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withacapitalp · 4 months

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile.

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home.

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with.

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye.

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived.

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!”

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.”

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.”

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again.

That made sense.

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable?

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong.

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more.

Thump.

Mostly alone.

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom.

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining.

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight.

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right.

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian.

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing.

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El.

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success.

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one.

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.”

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable.

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought.

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better.

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did.

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included.

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more.

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet.

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in.

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke.

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly.

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!”

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going.

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered.

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve.

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this.

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real.

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids.

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared.

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side.

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was.

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad.

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.”

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence.

“... Who do you talk to?”

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look.

“What?”

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down.

No one.

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind.

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.”

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted.

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way.

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends.

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment.

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word.

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face.

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone.

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out.

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered.

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing.

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked.

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids.

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up.

El had no such qualms.

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep.

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips.

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide.

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound.

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare.

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms.

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max?

Mike?

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn.

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night.

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it.

But what should he sing?

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Who could hate this song?”

Steve had the answer.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

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atopearth · 6 months

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Final Fantasy XVI Part 3 - To Live is to Hope

I'm glad they addressed the anklet on Torgal's leg, I've been curious about it. Nice to know it was from Cid. I'm glad the kids helped stand up for L'ubor because I was just about ready to leave this town to die. But of course it's better for everyone to be alive because then that can truly change the situation of the people and the Bearers. I liked the quest following in the will of Archduke Elwin. I'm sure he must be really proud to see both his sons living as he would have wanted them to, unwavering in their beliefs for a world where Bearers and everyone can live as they will. I like Isabelle, she's very strong, mature and cool. Her story was very bittersweet too, it's a common story but you could really feel how grateful she was towards Northreach and the Veil for taking her and her lover who was a Bearer in when no one else would, and how much they treated her like family and kin that she's willing to give everything to protect this town and it's people. Her strength and resolve throughout the game in caring for this town goes to show how beautiful Northreach is and also why I have a soft spot for this town too.

It was really sweet to know that Clive tried to take Jill to see snow daisies when they were young because she was sad. He didn't get to show it to her back then but at least now he's been able to fulfil that promise. It's not as romantic as the flower scene in FFVIII before the end but not many things can top the feelings I had back in the day. Anyway, I'm really glad we got this scene because I was like, what about Jill the whole time I was doing all these side quests haha. Glad she got a bit more screentime and it really warmed my heart seeing them hug each other so comfortably and happily. I'm happy that we got the Dion side quest, I think he and I really needed it. Harpocrates also needed it I guess since he never got to watch over Dion any more than the brief time he did when Dion was young, but the fact that Dion remembers and respects him goes to show his importance in his heart. It was cute how Mid also hugged Dion before they left for Origin and he was so surprised haha. But what about Terence? Did he die? I really wanted Dion to get a proper farewell too. I really like Gav's relationship with Clive, so when he started crying, I wanted to tear up too😭 What?! No Torgal for the final battle? That's ridiculous, we've never separated from him, how could we go without him? What is life without Torgal? I mean I should say the same for Jill but I have to admit that I feel more incomplete without Torgal than Jill lmao.0

I knew it was basically impossible for Joshua to live until the end but having to watch him die and Clive absorbing the Phoenix just makes me sad. Little Joshua knighting Clive was the cutest thing ever. As for Ultima, honestly have no feelings for him because he's a pretty typical JRPG villain lol. What, I couldn't believe that was the ending because it was so anticlimactic, I wasn't sure what to feel even when I got back to the title screen. And honestly, what I hate most aren't endings I dislike but inconclusive endings and this is one. It reminds me of Gantz and I'm still salty to this day. I honestly don't care if our main characters really died or not, I don't care if the ending is sad or happy, but I hate that they showed nothing that was an "ending". Everything was just the aftermath of the final battle and then the end. Even that book is just a cop out to make you feel better or something, is it written by the real Joshua resurrected? Clive in his name? Jote in his memory? It could be anything but because they refuse to show it, I don't think I really care either. Just seeing Jill and Gav cry as they welcome in a new life is very unsatisfying. I felt bad for Torgal. How many people he cared about died before him? Anyway yeah, I have no doubt that a world with L'ubor, Martha, Byron and Isabelle and them will be perfectly fine but that doesn't mean I spent 60-70 hours on a journey with Clive just to not see a proper ending for him and I'm just disappointed in this decision. Maybe they're trying for DLCs again or a sequel (EDIT: DLCs coming as expected I guess) but seriously, it leaves a bad aftertaste considering everything that's happened. Dion's implied death was the worst. And the battle where we couldn't play with Bahamut or Phoenix was lacklustre considering how great the battles with Titan and Bahamut were. Anyway, it's crazy how the Bahamut fight was so long, but the ending to an entire game was so short and meaningless.

Overall, I still enjoyed FFXVI. The highlights of the game are definitely the Eikon fights and the side characters. I'm not one to fall for the sway of graphics considering I grew up with the blocks in FFVII but I can very assuredly tell you that the fight against Titan was great, and the fight against Bahamut was pretty freaking cool despite how terrible of a situation it was. In terms of Eikon fights though, I was quite disappointed that Shiva never really got to shine considering how beautiful she was and how cool Shiva always is. Even Garuda had better screentime. Odin had his splitting the sea moment too. As for the side characters, honestly the side quests were tedious at times because running around was annoying and there's only so many times we can kill bandits and fetch materials that are super far away.

I'd say the side quests were worth doing because they really helped towards world building and giving me a better view of how towns and people were. I won't say I liked all of them but Martha and Wade, Isabelle, Eloise and Theodore were great. In terms of main story characters though, my favourites were definitely Joshua, Dion, Gav and Cid. It's funny but this is one of the rare times where I actually loved the younger brother more than the older brother hahaha, I guess I just loved how even though Clive was Joshua's shield, Joshua turned out to be the one to protect him more than he did once they got older. I loved the sibling love and care for each other. I loved Dion's story the most because it was very straightforward and understandable. He was a good guy who cared about his people and his father but wasn't able to stop the destruction caused by Ultima because of these feelings he had for them. Gav and Clive is my favourite relationship because their trust and heart to heart to each other just makes me happy to watch all the time. Cid was cool and a great role model, charismatic and strong in his beliefs, a good way to show what Clive was to become as he continued his journey.

However, I do have to say I probably have more negatives than positives for this game. Personal preference but I wasn't a fan of the combat system. I can understand why there's no "magic system" but the utter lack of debuffs and status changes etc really makes battles quite one dimensional in that your focus is really to combo and dodge/block. Attacks from enemies are basically meaningless because the only difference is how much damage they do and not what they do. Weapons and accessories aren't any better because weapons can only have better damage and stagger but nothing else, and accessories don't really add much change to make me really care what I was using. I mean as I've said, I was using the accessory that does attacks for me so you can take my words with a grain of salt lol but I was just so disinterested in the combat, I couldn't bring myself to bother. Oh and the non-existent party system was disappointing because it never really mattered if you had a party or not, it was just more characters on screen but really, I always felt alone in battle and completely forgot their existence. Anyway, as I was disappointed with Shiva's lack of screentime, I was also disappointed with Jill's presence in the story because her character fell flat for me. She and Clive were cute at times but I kinda wish she had more of a character if that makes sense. Barnabas was also disappointing considering he was closest to Ultima and that he was Odin, so he could have brought more insight and development to those things but nope. I have to say though, the story was very average. I thought the story was going to be more "mature" and go for the exploration of politics, Clive's revenge and fight for forgiveness etc but instead it went down the JRPG killing god route which was very disappointing to me especially considering how boring Ultima was. Oh well I guess. Despite my grievances, I'd still give it a 7.5, it was a nice ride but nothing really hit me, it basically met my expectations which was that even if I don't like the game, the Eikon fights should be cool, and I'd say the game definitely delivered in that aspect with Bahamut, which is kinda ironic because when I first saw Bahamut, I thought he was the ugliest out of all the Eikons hahaha! Who would have thought I'd like his Dominant Dion, and the Eikon fight the most in the end? Odin was the most beautiful but also the most disappointing. Anyway, I'd say the game is worth playing just to see the Eikon fights haha, they are just that visually stunning!

#final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #ffxvi

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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years

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Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 2 - Give me your answer, do

Underthecut - NSFW, Male Masturbation, Oral - Male Receiving.

Brahms sat idly in his living room, leaning back in his large leather recliner. Feet shuffling along the Egyptian carpet, thumbs twiddling as he hums Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre,

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." He smiles as he thinks of her. How her hair shines in the sun, like a halo above her head. Her eyes sparkling whenever she laughs, how the corner of her eyes crinkles ever so slightly. How her smile makes his heart skip a beat.

Brahms sucks in a breath, his hum-singing continues, "There are bright lights the dazzling eyes of beautiful Daisy Bell." He sits up straight, eyes on the unlit fireplace, the gold gate held an ornate Chinese dog welded on the front. He looks above the fireplace to the mantel, the rows of photos in their ash wood frames.

His face is stern as he glances at a particular photo. He, a half-smile as his hand rests on his son's shoulder. Lawrence when he was a boy of eight. Lawrence's other shoulder had a delicate white hand upon it. Gerti, her lips dark with her favourite shade of lipstick, her slight freckles littered her face, her silky blonde hair up in a beautiful age-appropriate bun.

His hum-singing fades as he continues to stare, the family photo, the family in the photo appearing as sharp and elegant as their social standing. That day, Gerti had scolded him all morning, her eyes wide and glossy, her alabaster skin held a blue and yellow hue under her eyes. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

"For the love of everything, Brahms, hurry for once." Brahms flinches as he can still hear her screeching, "Lawrence, get the cat's paw out of your mouth and stop pulling its tail!" He chuckles,

"I miss that cat," Brahms laughs to himself. Never one for pets but how that scraggly little beast could make his son laugh in the most jovial way, warmed him greatly.

His amused grin falls as his eyes lock with Gerti's. Grabbing the photo, his thumb ghosts over her image, remembering how once soft her skin was. His stomach churns as a chill seeps into his bones, shaking him in his spot.

He places the family photo back on the mantle, right next to a photo of her. Her hands grasping each other, face tilted slightly, a timid smile upon her face. "Sir, I don't need my photo taken!"

"Y/n, as my employee of a year, you are practically family." Brahms let out a shaky breath as his mind replays the conversation. "And you may call me, Brahms. You address Gerti by her full name."

"Gerti and are intimate in ways that have allowed us to be close."

"Pray tell may I watch these intimate moments?" His cheeky reply had cost him an ear full from his wife when she had found out. Brahms still never understood why women used such charged words to describe a close friendship.

Brahms left the living room, a stirring in his gut had him heave. He wanted to call upon her for aid, 'Fetch me a water with some ice, and actually bring some black tea and one of our lemons from Italy.' he clears his throat at the thought of dryness being washed back by the cold refreshment.

He had given her a few hours a week for personal time. Free to be spent however she pleased. Ever since the death of his wife and Lawerence attending Rugby School for Boys she had more free time. Much to Brahms immense displeasure.

Brahms had taken to stalking her on her days off. Wanted to see what she got up to. Where she went and specifically with who. He would linger twenty feet behind, always darting behind stalls and other tall men to hide, he even took to wearing a coat that he kept hidden in hopes she would not recognize him further.

He stared in amazement at how well she helped an old lady onto the trolley all the while juggling her belongings, refusing a 'tip' "It's the nice thing to do." in reference to helping others.

His cheeks flushed whenever she stopped to smell the flowers, literally. A quaint smile as she turned down the offer for a free one from the vendor. She often stopped to sniff the white and yellow flowers. He had noticed Daisys were her favorite.

He seethed when one day you were stopped by a handsome Youngman, his tall lean frame stood confidently as his dark brown eyes held a softness as they looked down at you. He had overheard the name in a distinctly American accent, "Dan, yeah I'm studying medicine with my colleague, I'd introduce you but..." He hated that you always walked near the campus, hated all the young men eager, too eager to chat up a single young lady.

Dan had never gotten farther than chaste conversations and one quick feather-light kiss on her cheek.

Brahms wondered if he should up and move, just to be a little further away from the university, away from the young men, away from one of them stealing her away. She was his, he had just yet to convince her. Ask her, even bring it up in any conceivable way.

One occasion made the blood sear in his veins. He should have been more away, should have been more vigilant of this Dan fellow. He watched from a distance as Dan rounded the corner and collided with her. His tall body fell over hers, his hand had just managed to catch the back of her head, softening to the blow to the ground.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry!" Dan's eyes wide in shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

She laughed, "No, no, it's fine," Brahms gritted his teeth.

"No, it's not." Dan pulled himself and her up, his hand holding her in a firm grasp. "I am so sorry." He scratched the back of his head, his expression doleful.

"Accidents happen." She assured, grabbing his hand still wrapped around hers. " It's okay Dan."

"You remember me!" Dan's brown eyes lit up. A Radiant smile over his face as he stepped closer to her.

Brahms seethed as the scene played out before him. She smiled, he smiled. She laughed, he laughed. The words between the two began to fall effortlessly between them both.

He watched despondently. How she could let herself relax so easily in another man's presence. How her demeanor shifted around Dan. Those stiff shoulders eased themselves as Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and winked.

Brahms cursed, the university's chapel bell rang out. Every thunderous clang shot through Brahms. Every clang was a reminder he had another place to be. The dreaded desk in the dreaded little corner of his office.

He turned one last time, eyes watched as she smiled with a warmth he'd never seen, how she leaned into Dan as his smile shined bright.

Brahms walks up to his maid's room, thanking Gerti for installing a sense of comfort in Y/N as to never locking the door.

He jiggles the door handle, "Hm..." Again, "Weird," his eyes narrow, "Bloody thing is locked." He jostles the handle, "Bloody woman..."

Click

"Ah, there we are." He hums in approval as the door creaks open. Forever grateful for the previous owner teaching him how to easily unlock a door in the house without a key "Rickety ol' tings" Brahms mocked the man's heavy accent.

He inhales as he enters her room. The simple little abode warmed his heart. Her bed and the nightgown left upon it stirred his loins. He walks to the bed, grabs the nightgown, bringing it to his nose, he growls as he inhales, her natural scent lingered on the garment.

Brahms holds the garment in his teeth as he shucks off his pants, freeing his painfully erect cock. The thoughts whirl in his mind as he plops onto her bed, sighing with content as he sinks down into the mattress and a sneer as he grips his cock.

The same bed she slept, where when the night calls for it, he knew she'd sleep naked. "Fuck..." He growls through the nightgown, ripping it from his mouth to place it over his chest. Her bed, her bed where she no doubt has touched herself, even if briefly in a beautiful sinful manner.

Does she shy away as she dipped those delicate little fingers into her dripping pussy? Does she bite her cheek to stifle her pitchy moans when that jolt of pleasure shot through her?

Brahms collects some spit in his large hand, sucking in a breath as his cold spit touches his cock. His hand pumps eagerly around his thick member, a low groan as the image of her crawling up to him floods his mind. He sighs as he pictures it as her hand gripping him, gasping at how large it is,

"Brahms, my fingers can't even wrap around it!"

"That's okay, love, use those pretty little lips and that wet little tongue to help you."

"What if my make-up smears?"

"Oh, love, that's what I want." Brahms throws his head back, thumb circling his swollen head, picturing it as her delicate wet little tongue. He grips himself harder as he swears he can feel her lips wrap around his cock.

His low groans and breathy moans fill her little room, her name falling from his lips, "So beautiful, Y/N. My love, so perfect, mhm, yes, further down your throat, moaning around it."

Brahms breathing hitches as he pictures her, clawing at his chest as tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I'm a little nervous," She says as she rubs her glistening pussy, inches over his leaking cock.

"You got this, my love." Brahms keens,

"Will it fit, Brahms?..." She bites her lip, a hand groping her beautiful chest.

"My love, just relax, I have you." He pictures gripping her hip to ease her down onto him, gripping his cock as he imagines her warm pussy gripping him.

Audible slaps from the fisting of his cock, mixing with his now desperate pleas and moans fill her room. She's on top of him, her chest flushed against his, she's commenting on how she loves the feel of his hairy chest, praised-filled moans as she comments on his pecs flexing under her.

Brahms bucks his hips into his hand, "Hold you close." He moans as he pictures rolling on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lower half, arms pulling him in close, whispering in his ear,

"Brahms cum in me, cum in me, make me yours." He grips squeeze around his cock, imaging it's her pussy clenching around him, "I love you, Brahms."

He hisses as his body shakes, muscles flexing, toes curling as he snarls out his release. The image of her accepting his seed sends heat washing over him. His cock pulses in his grip, his cum spraying over her nightgown, the remaining spilling down his fingers and cock.

His temples pulse, his ears ringing. His toes unfurling as his legs ceased in their shakes. He squeezes his cock a few more times, hearing her breathlessly thanking him, "It's so warm in me. Thank you, Brahms." He swears he can feel her nuzzling into his chest as if she was there.

Brahms coughs as he sits up, shaking his head as he gingerly throws his legs over the side, placing his feet on the door. The nightgown falls over his cock. He snorts, using it to clean himself. He stands up, placing the nightgown where he had found it. A wicked and mischievous grin spreads over his face at the thought of her wearing his spent at night.

He grunts as he retrieves his trousers, pulling them up in haste, tucking his chub back in. A content sigh as he eyes the bed and nightgown. She wouldn't be sleeping alone for much longer.

Brahms snaps his attention to the trill of his front doorbell. He clicks his tongue as he makes haste to the door. He debates on if he has time to properly clean his hand, decides to just wear a fancy white-glove he leaves, conveniently, near the front door instead.

"Coming! My Maid is out currently," He sucks in a breath as he pulls a glove over his right hand, he cocks his head quickly before opening the door. "Sorry, it'd have been answered sooner...who are you?"

Brahms stared down at the short man before him. His brown hair combed expertly to the side, his brows immaculate under his thick glasses. He wore a glowering expression, his lips in a tight line.

The man clears his throat, "Herbert, Herbert West." Brahms makes note of his American accent, "I believe this paper is for the lady of this residence." Herbert whips the paper in front of him, his expression changing to say "Well, hurry and take it!"

"Mr. West."

"Herbert."

"Herbert, If by Lady you mean, Gerti? She passed awa-"

"I don't mean your dead wife."

Brahms's eyes narrow at Herbert. He opens his mouth the speak.

"I mean, Y/n. She is the only lady living here. So Dan tells me."

Brahms's jaw slackens, "Dan." He says more to himself.

"Yes, it's an invitation to a formal at the university. He already invited her. Just wanted to make sure she got all the details, it's all there on the paper." Herbert whips it again in front of Brahms.

Brahms yanks the paper from Herbert, eyes scanning it wildly.

University of London

Residents of Handel Mansions we formally invite you to bring along the most beautiful dame for the start of our fall formal.

September 28th, 1900

Entrance fee 1 pound, with a beautiful dame on your arm the fee is waved.

Brahms stares back at Herbert who pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well," Herbert begins, "I figured be best to drop it off for Dan. He's been awfully busy." He flashes a smile to Brahms as he turns, "Dan also says to let Y/n know he wishes her luck at her new job on Robitaille's farm." He turns back around to Brahms, "Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr.?"

Brahms pauses, clearing his throat, "Brahms Heelshire."

Herbert clicks his tongue, "I knew that." He walks down the stairs, a pep in his step, "Was nice meeting you Mr. Heelshire."

Brahms stares at the short man walking away, nodding to a man walking past. He turns back around, slamming the door behind in, the frame shook.

He stares down at the paper, eyes reading it over and over again. "A formal." He starts, "That Dan..." His breath catches in his chest, "A job?" he questions aloud.

He collapses against his door, slumping over as he crunches the paper in his hands. His thoughts raced to her, cursing himself for not intervening that day she ran into Dan. Wishing he just took the reprimand from his employer and raced in to shove Dan away from you. Creating some fantastical lie as to why he was suddenly there.

Brahms's thoughts slip to his son. Lawrence, his green eyes shine whenever he and Y/n play. He hugs her like he did his mother. How y/n always promises to play with him, tuck him at night. How were you going to tuck him in if you were to be away? How were you going to be there to kiss his little cheek as he falls asleep?

"How are you going to be there for me?"

#brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Female reader #Slasher x reader #Slasher x you #Slasher imagine #Herbert West #Dan Cain #Smut #Lemon #Victorian AU #Victorian era #late victorian era #edwardian era

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silverflame2724 · 3 years

Note

WWX decides to kill two birds with one stone and with the help of WQ reforges the Stygian Tiger Seal into a artificial golden core replacement which she implants into WWX.

WWXs eyes are now permanently red and he has the full power of the seal at his fingertips at all times because its part of him now.

Another side effect of this Stygian Core is discovered when WWX misses JZXs ambush and is instead attacked and disembowled in Carp Tower in full view of the cultivation world but then immediately regenerates without a scratch and blood ruined robes.

Watching WWX be more annoyed at the bloody robes than being disembowled because the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation has apparently cultivated to immortality USING RESENTMENT shakes a lot of people.

“Huh.” Wen Qing says as she observes yet another failure of Wei Wuxian’s inventions quite literally blow up in his face. “So this Seal of yours protects you?”

Wei Wuxian coughs from the smoke of his busted invention, “Well, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s sentient, correct?”

“Yeah....?”

“Hmm.” Wen Qing observed the Seal slowly bobbing up and down. “Can you circulate resentful energy through the Seal for a moment? Don’t make it do anything. Just channel resentful energy through it like you would if you channeled spiritual energy normally.”

“Okayyy??” Wei Wuxian was perplexed but nevertheless obeyed and watched as Wen Qing’s eyes brightened. “What? What is it? Wen Qing, tell meeeeee! Don’t leave me out!!!!!”

“Brat, I’m trying to concentrate.” She scolded him, but her tone was fond.

Wei Wuxian waited a few more moments before it seemed like Wen Qing had seen enough.

“I want you to calm down when I say this, but I think you can reforge the Seal into a core which I can transfer into you.”

Wei Wuxian was silent......for about two seconds. “............What?”

Wen Qing sighed. “Wei Wuxian, when you channeled resentful energy through the Seal, the Seal acted much like how it would if someone were to channel spiritual energy through their core. The Seal can be made into an artificial core is what I’m saying.”

“I.....you are sure?” Wei Wuxian asked. He knew Wen Qing wouldn’t joke about this.

“Yes. I’m about eighty percent sure this will go well. I can even knock you out when I cut you open this time.”

“I.....okay.” Wei Wuxian was at a loss for words.

“So I’ve rendered you speechless.” Wen Qing smiled. “That kinda feels good.”

Wei Wuxian pouted.

...........

It took a few days to reform the Seal into a form that would resemble a core but Wei Wuxian was a genius and having Wen Qing there to bounce ideas off of helped in giving him a clue as to how a core should look and feel like.

“Are you ready?” Wen Qing asked.

Wei Wuxian, who was one hundred percent not ready, said, “Yes.”

Wen Qing saw through this. “It will be alright.” She squeezed his hand. “This time, it will be alright.”

That was the last thing he heard before he was knocked out.

When he awoke, his eyes had burned for a little before the pain dissipated.

Wen Qing had been in the midst of declaring the operation successful when she suddenly paused, “Huh.”

“What is it?” He asked nervously. Did something go wrong?

“Oh.....it’s, hmm. A’ Ning, get me some water, will you?”

Wen Ning returned not long later and locked eyes with Wei Wuxian. He seemed quite startled and that made Wei Wuxian even more curious. Based on Wen Qing’s reaction, it wasn’t anything bad, but still.....

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Yes?”

“Look at your reflection and you’ll understand why A’ Ning and I looked startled.”

Wei Wuxian did.

And he was shocked to see that his eyes have now become a brilliant shade of red. “What the hell?”

“Mmhm.”

“Why are my eyes red???”

“Well, Wei Wuxian, I’m not sure if anyone’s told you, but you’re aware your eyes turn red everytime you use demonic cultivation, right?”

“Umm, no??”

“Well, they do. And considering what your core is, well. I’m not entirely surprised this happened. It was certainly unexpected though.” She finished cleaning up and left Wei Wuxian to just sit and admire his reflection.

...................

A week and some carefully supervised experiments later, Wei Wuxian had full control over his core. It was really just the same thing as how one would normally use a golden core, so it didn’t take long for him to get the hang of it. However, considering his core is the Seal, he also had the ability to control thousands of corpses and this time without any of the side effects.

He also spent time trying to get Suibian to respond to him using resentful energy. Considering that the sword was a spiritual sword, he was unsure of the compatibility but Suibian seemed to adapt well enough and Wei Wuxian was so glad he didn’t have to give up ever using his beloved sword again.

The next step on his agenda was to update the wards. Using the power of the Seal to strengthen it was a walk in the park and Wei Wuxian finally felt like despite how the cultivation world was always on the verge of killing him and the Wens, they’d be safe. The wards would hold out.

He then started absorbing all the deep-seated resentment in the soil to make it more fertile as well as trying to clear the Burial Mounds resentment by listening to the stories of the dead and helping them pass on. He also painstakingly dug up all the strewn about corpses, burned them and held proper funeral rites for them.

The crops flourished, the Wens and him were well-fed, and the Burial Mounds started to lighten up. Wei Wuxian no longer looked to be on the verge of death and he was able to cultivate without any problem.

Like this, time passed peacefully.

..........................

He was invited to his nephew’s one month celebration not long later and Wei Wuxian decided that this would be a good time to show the cultivation world that he truly is the grandmaster of demonic cultivation they all claim him to be. (In truth, he never considered himself to be any sort of grandmaster considering how little he knew of demonic cultivation, but it was different now.)

He told Wen Ning and the other corpses - of the resentful spirits that stayed behind saying they wanted to help him - to watch for any Jins since he trusted they’d take this chance to attack the Burial Mounds.

After he put on a concealing talisman for his eyes - since he knew that his different eye color would make a huge uproar -, he took to the skies with Suibian and nearly teared up. He’d missed flying. He’d missed this feeling. Laughing happily, he circulated the resentful energy in his core and sped up, becoming a black blur as he flew straight over Qiongqi Path.

When he landed at the foot of Koi Tower, invitation in hand, the Jin guards seemed surprised to see him there but had to let him in, not wanting to offend him.

Jiang Yanli-- no, it was Jin Yanli saw him and waved excitedly, beckoning him over. Out of his sight, Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan seemed surprised to see him there.

“A’ Xian!”

“Shijie!” The form of address slipped out.

Her face softened. “You made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The whispers of the people around him, wondering why he was there, surrounded him, but he ignored it. “Shijie, here’s my present!”

She looked at the bell with a little bit of wonder. “What does it do?”

“It’ll ensure that high level resentful beings and below won’t be able to move!”

“Oh, A’ Xian! This is perfect.”

“Thank you.” Jin Zixuan said, awkwardly. Wei Wuxian had forgotten he was there.

“No need! If it’s for Shijie’s son, I’d do anything!”

“He’s my son, too.”

Wei Wuxian made a face at that. “Well, yeah.”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng called and then stopped. “You have your sword?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, “Yep!” He twirled around. “I started picking Suibian up again! But let’s not focus on that, Jiang Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng seemed hesitant but dropped it readily enough as they started bickering like they used to.

Suddenly--

“Wei Wuxian!” Someone yelled.

Wei Wuxian groaned. Can one day go on without someone yelling my name with hatred??? Like, please??

“Yeeeeeees?” He drawled tiredly.

And some Jin guy that vaguely looked like Jin Zixuan stomped in, looking murderous. “You, remove the curse that you put on me!!”

Murmurs started up all around them.

“Curse?” Wei Wuxian looked confused. “What curse? And who are you anyway? Am I supposed to know you from somewhere??”

“You know who I am!!”

“No, I don’t actually.” Wei Wuxian scratched his head as he walked forward to get a better look. He really didn’t know!

“That’s Jin Zixun.” His shijie said, coming up to him. “From the Phoenix Mountain hunt?” Before Wei Wuxian could say anything, she continued. “The one that was supposed to apologize to you.”

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian thought really hard. “Oh! I remember you now!” He said to a rather red-faced Jin Zixun. “Sorry about that buddy, but uhh I didn’t curse you! I didn’t even remember you until now!”

“It must be you! It has to be you!!” He screamed and it was really grating on his nerves. “See! Look at this!” He ripped his robes open and everyone gasped at the evidence of the Hundred Holes curse on his torso.

Wei Wuxian whistled. “Well, that’s quite some curse. But I still didn’t do it.” Jin Zixun looked ready to refute so he continued, “Why would I curse you secretly when I usually make a big production of those I kill?”

People had to admit he had a point.

Jin Zixun continued to scream expletives until he finally rushed forward and in a rather bold move, drew his sword, plunging forward. However, in his anger, he completely missed his target and the direction of the blade pointed towards Jin Yanli.

“A’ Jie!!” Jiang Cheng screamed

Wei Wuxian was the closest to her and pushed her back, stepping in front of her taking the sword to his gut.

“A’ XIAN!!!” “WEI WUXIAN!!” “WEI YING!!” Jin Yanli, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji, who was actually there, all screamed.

And Wei Wuxian who had just been disemboweled, grit his teeth and pulled out the sword. Which, in hindsight, was a horrible decision since blood got everywhere. Though not so much when his stomach stitched itself back together. “................Huh.” I knew I regenerated quickly considering how often I got hurt plowing the fields and digging up the corpses to put them to rest, but damn that was quick. Though..... “My robes!” He fake-cried, turning his attention to a stunned Jin Zixun. “You ruined my robes! I just managed to scrounge up enough money to buy this new pair and you ruined them!!!!” He fretted over the large rip over his abdomen. “What am I going to tell Wen Qing? She just told me not to stain them!”

The entire cultivation just stared at him in silent shock, making Wei Wuxian feel a little self-conscious.

“Uhh, what are all of you staring at me for?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said with all the patience of an exasperated brother. “Is that the only thing you can ask?!” He glared, signaling for two Jiang disciples to restrain Jin Zixun from anymore stupid ideas he’d like to enact. “When did you cultivate to immortality?”

“I didn’t??? What do you mean??”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, checking him over. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? I’m a little dizzy considering all the blood I’ve lost, but it’s nothing big!” He grinned. It felt nice to have Lan Zhan care for him rather than fight with him.

“Wei Wuxian, stop flirting with Hanguang-Jun and answer the damn question.”

Wei Wuxian turned his attention back to his brother and pouted at him, missing Lan Wangji’s red ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A’ Xian.” Shijie said and Wei Wuxian abruptly realized her robes had his blood on them.

“Shijie, I’m sorry I got your robes dirty!”

“It’s fine.” She patted him. “But A’ Xian, I know you didn’t pay attention to those lectures, but only immortals can heal from wounds like that that quickly.”

“Really?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan confirmed.

“Huh. So I’m immortal?”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng deadpanned. “And you didn’t even notice it. In true Wei Wuxian fashion.”

Lan Zhan frowned then. He had still been checking Wei Wuxian’s pulse. “Wei Ying, what happened to your core?”

“Hmm? .........Oh shit.”

“Why is it covered in resentment?”

“Oh. Umm.” Wei Wuxian really was at a loss for words now. “We can discuss that later?”

“Wei Ying.”

“Aiya, how do you make my name sound like reprimand?”

“Don’t try to deflect the conversation.” Jiang Cheng said, now paying attention.

Wei Wuxian groaned. “Okay. Well, everyone would have found out sooner or later but umm. I might have cultivated to immortality accidentally via demonic cultivation? Haha, ha......”

No one laughed with him. They all looked pretty shaken and Wei Wuxian wanted to laugh at their reaction. He felt pretty detached from it all, to be honest.

“Can we all just forget about this and continue celebrating Jin Ling’s one month celebration?”

And everyone collectively said, “No.”

“Aww.”

___________________

To this day, I’m still unsure of whether it’s Carp Tower or Koi Tower.

#mdzs #wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #immortal wei wuxian #fluff #wei wuxian has a new core #but it's not a golden core #wen remnants #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #jin zixun #humor #lan zhan #lan wangji #mild warning for blood

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

everything happens for a reason part 6 - zuko x fem!reader

The thing about forever is that it's a fucking lie

part 5 | masterlist | part 7

a/n: you all know whats coming lmao i got nothing to say for myself

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): pakku's usual sexism, typical siege of the north stuff, mostly angst but a lil bit of fluff in there

chapter title comes from forever is a lie by bea miller!

“I can’t believe that your tribe doesn’t teach waterbending to women!” Katara fumed, the snow beneath her feet packed tightly from her continuous pacing. “I mean, how can they even do that? Master Pakku’s all about ‘his culture and his teachings’ but his teachings are completely sexist!”

Y/N just nodded along as she listened to Katara — Master Pakku had refused to teach Katara, and after a disappointing healing lesson she had found Y/N to rant. “Yep. It’s unfair, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

Katara frowned and stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you want to learn how to fight too? I love being able to heal and help people, don’t get me wrong, but healing isn’t all I want to do.”

A shaky sigh fell from her lips and she shrugged, adjusting her position on the platform of ice she had made to sit on. “Well… yeah, I guess. I know a couple of martial moves, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know more. But Katara, I—”

Y/N was silent for a moment as flashes of the past played behind her eyelids. “I’m not like you. I’m not the kind of person to challenge the rules. Not anymore.”

Katara shook her head, already back to her pacing. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I saw your healing during your class — you’re really talented, Y/N, and I know that skill will transfer over to fighting.”

“Thank you, but— but it doesn’t matter how good we are. Master Pakku is just as stubborn as he is talented, and I think he’d rather die than be a decent person. It’s a shame though. I’d really like to see someone knock some sense into him.”

“Yeah…” Katara sighed. “Hopefully Aang is having a better time than I am.” She looked up at the sky then fixed Y/N with a wry smile. “Speaking of Aang, I should probably get back to him and my brother. Sorry for talking your ear off the whole night.”

Y/N waved her hand around nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. You have my permission to rant to me any time you want while you’re here.”

Katara grinned and offered her hand, which Y/N took with a small smile as she got up from her ice platform. With a slight movement of her hand she bent it back into the ground, and the two girls began their walk back to the city. “I just wish I knew how to get Pakku to let up.”

“You’ll think of something,” Y/N reassured.

Katara did indeed think of something. Y/N’s wish of Pakku getting some sense knocked into him was granted when Katara challenged him to a fight, which was quite possibly the best thing that Y/N had ever witnessed. Though she ultimately lost, he still decided to take her on as a student — and in a move that Y/N would forever be grateful for, Katara had gotten Pakku to take her on as well. Katara made history that day, and she felt a shining sense of admiration for the girl for shaking things up.

And now, her days consisted of early mornings spent training, afternoons in classes, and nights doing homework, as well as fitting in time to hang out with Yue — it was a miracle she had any free time at all.

Lately though, it seemed like all Yue could talk about was Sokka. She liked him just as much as he liked her, but Yue was good — no matter how much she cared for someone, her tribe would always come first.

(“Did I hear that you and Sokka have a date later tonight?” she teased. “Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Yue was silent at her attempt at humor and Y/N frowned. “Yue, are you okay?”

Silence lingered in the air for so long that Y/N almost thought she didn’t hear her, but finally the princess spoke as she pulled down the collar of her jacket to reveal an engagement necklace. Y/N gasped.

“It’s from Hahn,” she said quietly. “He proposed an hour ago, and I accepted.”

“You what?” Y/N cried, prompting a slight grimace from Yue. “Hahn— you can’t stand him!”

“Y/N, please,” Yue sighed. “He’s not that bad — he’s handsome, I guess. And he’s the son of a noble, and he’ll be really good for the tribe.”

“Yue, you’re the one who has to deal with him. He proposed to you, not the tribe — Spirits, half the boys in this tribe like you, why him?”

“It’s best for the tribe,” she repeated, her words an attempt to convince Y/N as much as herself.

“But what’s best for you?” Y/N countered.

Yue hadn’t answered, and had made up some half-baked excuse that she had to be somewhere. She had watched her go sadly, hoping that she would figure something out with Sokka.)

And it’s not like she wasn’t happy that her friend had found someone, it was just…

Y/N was upset that someone wasn’t her. And she didn’t know how to deal with that revelation.

But one morning, while making idle conversation with Katara as their lesson came to an end, a matter much more pressing came to hand.

Black snow. Soot raining down from the sky, tarnishing everything it touched.

A feeling all too familiar brewed in her chest as she met her friend’s eyes, and one thing was clear.

The Fire Nation was coming.

The air was even more frigid than usual with the knowledge of an imminent invasion, and Y/N had parted ways with her friends once they reached the town hall to be with her grandparents. The tension in the air was thick as Chief Arnook stepped up to address the people.

“The day we have feared for so long has arrived — the Fire Nation is on our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe, but they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence, I call upon the great spirits. Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sokka stood up. “Count me in.”

Her eyes widened as she met Katara’s from across the room, and she looked equally surprised. “Sokka…”

“Be warned: many of you will not return.” Several other men stood up after Sokka, including her grandfather. Despite his age he was a skilled fighter, but that was no comfort to Y/N. She reached up for his hand and shook her head almost desperately, but he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand, a sentiment to express words unsaid. “Come forward to receive my mark, if you accept the task.”

As he walked forward to join the line, she found the only solace she could in her grandmother’s open arms, burying her face in the fur of her jacket. “He will be okay,” she soothed. “He’s just as strong as he is brave. You have to have faith.”

She hoped that her grandmother was right. She couldn’t handle another loss.

Once all the men had received their marks, they left to confer about the battle plan. Y/N found her way up to the stage where a tearful Yue sat. It pained Y/N to see her in such a way, and when she sat down and offered her hand the princess immediately took it.

“I saw that your grandfather volunteered,” she said after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For Sokka.” Y/N adjusted her position so their shoulders were touching, and she sighed heavily. “I can’t stop thinking about my village. My father.” She met Yue’s eyes, her own beginning to tear up.

“What if it happens again?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t— I can’t do it again.”

Yue let go of her hand to wrap the girl in a hug, the warmth of the embrace managing to chip away at some of their hopelessness. “You won’t have to do it again,” she stated, the reassurance seeming like the truth when coming from her. “You’re not alone this time.”

She finally pulled away from the hug as she wiped the tears off her face, and Y/N nodded. Yue somehow always knew exactly what to say. “What would I do without you?” she asked, her voice slightly watery.

“You’re never going to know,” the princess smiled. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” That got a laugh out of Y/N and the two of them stood up as Yue gestured outside with her head. “I think I saw Aang and my father out there. It’ll help to talk with them — I think you need some fresh air anyways.”

Y/N nodded and the two girls walked out hand in hand, a small reprieve from carrying the weight of the world.

Things were so much worse than she had been anticipating.

After a short talk outside the hall with Katara, Aang, and the Chief, Yue had been transported somewhere safer as Y/N steeled herself for the front lines. After all, as a student of Master Pakku, she could fight damn well — it was just a matter of putting it into action.

But a line of warriors and children alike were no match for the strength of the Fire Nation from afar, and the first few fireballs had done their job at disrupting both the fighters and the wall — Seeing her home get destroyed hurt nearly as much as constantly getting thrown around.

After Aang had taken off on Appa and Chief Arnook took a section of his soldiers off for a different plan, the work on the ground began. The fleet of ships seemed endless , and the same went for their artillery — the fight went long into the day as Y/N worked with various other waterbenders to stop fireballs and repair broken parts of the city’s infrastructure, but just as the full moon began to show, the attacks stopped coming. Limbs heavy with exhaustion from their work in the field, Y/N and Katara met up with the princess back at the balcony of the palace.

“They’ve stopped firing,” Yue noted as they all gazed off into the distance.

“Thank the spirits,” Y/N muttered as she worked out a knot in her shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept going.”

Just then, Appa came into view and a grin spread across Katara’s face. “Aang!”

He landed below them and the three girls hurried down to meet him. Aang landed on the ground, exhaustion clear in every part of him. “I can’t do it,” he muttered as he placed his head in his hands. “I can’t do it.”

“What happened?” Katara asked as she ran up to him, Yue and Y/N close behind.

“I must’ve taken out a dozen Fire Navy ships, but there’s just too many of them!” His large grey eyes were full of hopelessness, and Y/N’s heart ached for the boy. “I can’t fight them all.”

“But— you have to!” Yue pleaded. “You’re the Avatar.”

“I’m just one kid,” Aang countered wearily. He buried his face in his arms and Katara kneeled next to him in an attempt to comfort him. Y/N could almost forget about the pain in her body at that moment, feeling an odd responsibility to this boy as she looked down at him.

“Aang,” she muttered, following Katara’s example and kneeling next to him. “You’ve already done so much for us. Just by being here, you’ve inspired hundreds of people — you’re a beacon of hope all on your own! We don’t expect you to take out this whole navy by yourself. As long as you’re here, fighting with us? You’re helping us more than you know.”

He managed a slight smile at that and he took her outstretched hand, getting pulled back to his feet with her help.

“We’ll have a better view from up there,” Katara noted, pointing back up to the balcony. “You can help us keep watch, Aang — in case they start attacking again.”

He nodded and the four of them began the walk, the Avatar in slightly better spirits.

“The legends say the moon was the first waterbender,” Yue said once they had reached the balcony, all of them gazing at the sky. “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

“I’ve always noticed my waterbending is stronger at night,” Katara mused, causing Y/N to hum in agreement.

“Our strength from the spirit of the moon, our life from the spirit of the ocean,” she said. “They work together to keep balance.

Aang’s expression brightened at her words as he popped up from the ground. “The spirits! Maybe I can find them and get their help!”

“How can you do that?” Y/N questioned.

“The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World,” Katara explained excitedly. “Aang can talk to them!”

“Maybe they’ll give you the wisdom to win this battle!” Yue exclaimed.

“Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy amazing spirit attack on the Fire Nation!” At that, all three girls met him with strange looks. Aang coughed and straightened his posture. “Or wisdom. That's good, too.”

“The only problem is, last time you got to the Spirit World by accident,” Katara said with a frown. “How are you going to get there this time?”

Yue’s eyes lit up and she looked at them with a smile. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

A few minutes later, they were standing in the Spirit Oasis, the most spiritual place in all of the North. Yue, Y/N, and Katara all shed their coats as Aang walked around, marvelling at the beauty.

“I can feel… something,” Aang said as he sat down, getting into a meditating position. “It’s so tranquil.”

Soon enough, after a few moments of silence, Aang’s eyes as well as the arrow on his head began to glow.

“Is he okay?” Yue gasped.

“He’s crossing into the Spirit World,” Katara reassured. “He’ll be fine as long as we don’t move his body. That’s his way back to the physical world.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Y/N whispered, astonishment etched into her face. For as much as she had been taught about the ocean spirits, she wasn’t well-versed in the Spirit World as a whole — she was thoroughly fascinated by every part of this.

“Maybe we should get some help,” Yue suggested, still on edge as she took a few steps away from the gate.

“No, he’s my friend. I’m perfectly capable of protecting him. Besides, I already have some help here.” She smiled at Y/N, a sentiment that she returned happily.

A deep voice, almost mocking, broke the silence as it echoed throughout the oasis. “Well, aren’t you a big girl now? Even got yourself a little student.”

The three girls all whipped around to find the source of the voice, and Katara’s whole body stiffened. “No…”

“Yes. Hand him over and I don’t have to hurt you.”

Y/N immediately eased into a bending stance along with Katara as the princess fled to get help, but her confidence faltered when she took the time to focus on their assailant.

She almost didn’t recognize him — it had been nearly four years since she had last set eyes upon the boy, but it was as if he had become a completely different person. His head was shaved completely save for a ponytail, and blues and reds marked his skin in various cuts and bruises. His eyes held an anger she had never seen before, an expression only heightened with the addition of a large red scar across his left eye.

“Zuko?” she breathed, her chest tightening up beneath the weight of the revelation. Katara stared at her in bewilderment — she had no idea that Y/N knew the prince that had chased them halfway across the world, but Katara supposed that she had no reason to ever suspect she did.

His eyes flashed with recognition as they ran over her, and it seemed as if he had a similar epiphany as he staggered backwards. “I… I thought you were dead.”

“You’re with them,” she muttered, blood turning to ice. “Your nation is invading, and you’re helping them— you’re after the Avatar? What are you doing, Zuko?!”

The momentary surprise was replaced by steely determination as he shifted his weight forward and kicked up his leg, sending a blast of fire that she barely managed to dodge. “You know nothing!”

Y/N fell back into position next to Katara, but the newfound knowledge was like a fog over her mind. “Whoever he was when you knew him, that’s not him anymore!” Katara yelled as she bent water out of the pond and blocked his following attacks. “He won’t hesitate to hurt you, so you can’t either!”

“O-okay!” she stammered. This was the moment she had been waiting for, wasn’t it? After training with both Katara and Pakku, her martial skill had increased tenfold, and she was desperate to try it out — she only wished her first opponent didn’t have to be him. But another fire blast snapped her out of her paralysis, and she jumped into action.

The two girls worked impossibly well together, one stepping forward when the other fell back, the bending between them nearly seamless. Any fire that the prince sent their way was quickly extinguished, and with two against one on home turf, Y/N and Katara were able to hold him off with relative ease.

Y/N bent another jet of water up from the oasis and shot it at Zuko, the force of which knocked him several feet back. Katara took the opening and froze his feet to the ground, then began to move her arms about as she formed a ball of water around him — one more movement and it was frozen solid.

“You little peasant,” he growled. “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?”

The orb of ice began to glow, the air around them becoming hotter and hotter until it melted around him. Blasts of fire were flying at them as soon as Zuko hit the ground, and they were forced to retreat back towards the oasis as they grew more intense.

Y/N drew up a shield of water, extinguishing the flames on impact. Zuko dodged around them, his fingers inches away from Aang’s collar. Y/N propelled the water already at her fingertips towards Zuko with a grunt of effort, which sent him flying into the shallows on the other side of the oasis. She conjured up a large wave and sent it towards the prince, sending him up the side of the wall and trapping him once Katara froze it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and let her arms fall, a part of her wondering how they were still connected after the tediousness of the earlier battle. But this, one on one in a fight with real stakes? It was as exhilarating as it was nerve wracking, and she had never been so thankful that Katara had gotten her in with Master Pakku. Y/N felt intensely guilty over the pain she had inflicted on Zuko, but she tried her best to push it out of her mind — like Katara said, he would’ve done worse if she hadn’t fought back.

“You fought well,” Katara smiled. “I told you that you were talented.”

She chuckled and shrugged, cheeks heating up slightly at the praise. “It’s not exactly my first fight, just… the most intense.” It reminded her of the early mornings and late nights spent sparring with Zuko, a memory that only twisted the dagger in her heart even more.

The two girls smiled at each other as they began to walk back over to Aang — it seemed the boy was undisturbed by the fight by virtue of his glowing tattoos and closed eyes — when Y/N found herself squinting from the rays of light filtering in.

“Huh,” she mumbled. “The sun’s out. The sun’s out— Katara!”

Y/N turned to find the prince free from the ice, and the pair barely had time to draw water from the pond to shield themselves from the impending flames. But it was too little too late, and the power of the blast sent them back several feet. They slammed into either side of the gate, the force of it immediately knocking Katara out.

Y/N gasped in pain as she tried to push herself up, but the fight combined with the impact of her landing had taken a toll on her and she collapsed once more against the gate. When the smoke from the fire cleared, Zuko was there with Aang’s collar in his grasp.

“You rise with the moon,” he muttered, his face tinged with the slightest bit of guilt as he met her eyes. “I rise with the sun.”

The last thing she saw before her consciousness faded out was the boy she loved escaping with the Avatar.

why did i make yue and y/n like this when i KNOW what i have to write next omg i hate myself

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy

atla: @marianne1806

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader fic #zuko #zuko fic #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #avatar fic #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar x reader #sadie writes #ehfar #i already had this chapter half written so thats why its out so soon lmao #SOMEONE doesnt know how to hold their chapters and wants to release them as soon as she finishes them #its me. im someone

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ao719 · 3 years

Text

Strike A Pose

It's @zaffrenotes birthday! 🥳🤩

Happy birthday, Donna! You have been such a bright spot for so long for both Gen and I. What started out as a love for Liam and a thirst for Henney a couple of years ago has turned into a friendship that we both are grateful for. Between rice, all things potatoes, TVD, loathing and loving characters, Dino, and things we can’t unsee no matter how much we wish we could, we’ve had a lot of laughs. We hope your day is as amazing as you are! Love you! 🍚❤️

A/N: This is a collab written with my favorite asshole, @cocomaxley. Absolutely nothing in this fic should be taken seriously. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever written together, but we had some laughs while working on it. Thank you @burnsoslow, @emichelle, and @the-soot-sprite for reading this over for us!

Summary: Charlotte finds a buried secret from Drake’s college days.

This part of my Full Disclosure AU.

Charlotte, along with Liam and Maxwell, were at Drake’s cabin, looking around his cluttered garage. Drake had been using it for storage, and he now wanted to brew his own beer since Liam had given him a brewing kit for his birthday. He decided that the garage was the best place to set up the station for his new hobby. The only issue was that the garage was jam-packed with years’ worth of junk.

Drake pointed to the different machines that were scattered around the space and addressed Maxwell. “Beaumont, move that equipment outside. We can put them in different spots after the garage is cleared out.”

Drake then turned to Liam, gesturing to the open loft. “Li, can you get the crap from the storage space up there and bring it down?” Liam nodded and began making his way up the narrow steps.

Charlotte bounced on the balls of her feet, awaiting her instructions. “What about me, Drake? What do I get to do? Do I get to demolish walls?”

Drake shook his head. “We aren’t demolishing anything, Brooks. I repeat, nothing is to be demolished or broken.” He eyed a large steamer trunk in the corner of the garage and pointed to it. “You can look through that and sort through what looks like it’s worth keeping or tossing.”

Charlotte’s face fell in disappointment. “That’s it? I get to sort through trash?”

“It’s not trash. There are probably important documents in there that I need. Besides, the only risk of you hurting yourself by doing that is getting a papercut.” Drake chuckled as he watched Charlotte stomp towards the corner.

“Ha ha ha. So funny, Walker.” Charlotte opened the lid, groaning when she saw the mess of papers inside. She grabbed as many as she could in her hand and pulled them out. “Ouch!” She looked at her finger that was starting to ooze with blood from the first cut.

Drake burst out laughing. “Did you seriously just get a papercut, Brooks?”

Charlotte hid her hand behind her back. “No, I did not! I just said ‘ouch’ to make you think I got a papercut.”

****

Over the next few hours, the friends worked in silence. Every once in a while, the men would hear Charlotte groan or say ‘owww’ or ‘son of a bitch’ or ‘that stings like the devil’ as she accumulated more papercuts. A long while later, the silence was broken by Charlotte’s shriek of laughter. She was holding a stack of Polaroid photos in her hand, laughing like a hyena. Curious, the men gathered behind her to see what was so funny.

When Drake caught a glimpse of the first photo, his cheeks immediately flushing crimson with embarrassment, and he grabbed them from her hand.

I thought I got rid of these. “These are … uh … they’re nothing.”

Charlotte snorted. “I can’t unsee it! You tried to be a model? You don’t even like to smile!”

Liam plucked the Polaroids from Drake’s hand while he was busy scowling at Charlotte, and he dodged away when Drake tried to take them back. Even the King couldn’t keep his laughter at bay upon seeing the top photo as his eyes widened. “What the fuck is this?” Liam shrieked.

Charlotte burst into laughter over Liam’s inability to keep his amusement contained. “Even Liam thinks it’s funny!” Charlotte shook her head. “That poor bag. What did it ever do to you?”

“Um … just why?” Maxwell asked.

Drake ripped the photos from Liam’s grasp and sighed. “Back when I was in college in New York … I needed some extra money. So … I took up a modeling gig.”

“You … you modeled?” Charlotte giggled. “Like … really modeled? With a real photographer for a legitimate modeling agency?”

Drake looked up at her, recalling the memory. He wished it wasn’t real.

****

Drake got into the waiting taxi, feeling optimistic about this opportunity. He had seen the advertisement for male models pinned to the bulletin board inside the entrance of his dorm just a couple of days prior. It wasn’t something he had ever given thought to before, but the advertisement said experience wasn’t necessary, and he was in need of some extra cash as he worked towards getting an apartment of his own. They weren’t cheap in New York City. When he called the number, the agent that answered seemed eager to meet with him.

Drake watched as the buildings of New York got taller the deeper they drove into the city. He looked at his watch, expecting to arrive at his destination at any moment, but the cabbie continued to drive over the Verrazano Bridge to Staten Island.

Drake chuckled nervously. “Did you miss it? Are we turning around?”

The cab driver grunted. “Nah, man. We’re almost there.”

The taxi drove into a seedy neighborhood and stopped in front of a brown brick house, and Drake laughed. “This is a joke, right? You’re supposed to take me to Ford Modeling Agency. This is someone’s house!”

The cabbie rolled his eyes. “This is the address you gave me. That’ll be $69.60.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Seventy dollars? Are you insane?” He was doing this to try to make extra money, and after today he would be $140 in the hole. Good thing he still got a monthly allowance from the King.

After reluctantly paying the taxi driver, Drake got out of the vehicle and stared up at the house. I might die here today. He shook the thought; honestly, how bad could it be? As he walked up the pathway towards the door, he noticed a cardboard sign staked into the yard that read ‘Forde Molding Agencee’ written in bubble letters in black marker.

Drake mumbled profanities under his breath, and for a moment, he considered just walking away, but then the front door opened. A man with shaggy, greasy brown hair, an odd-shaped nose, and a full beard smiled from the doorway of the house.

The stranger extended his hand. “You must be Drake. I’m Neal. Neal Spooner.”

Drake extended his hand, trying his best to smile like it didn’t hurt his face. “Yes, I’m Drake Walker.”

Neal opened the door wider for Drake to enter. “Welcome to Forde Modeling Agency.”

Drake went to take a step but stopped and looked at him curiously. “Did you say For-day?”

“Yes! F-O-R-D-E. It’s pronounced Forday. It’s French.”

Drake’s brow quirked; the man spoke with a heavy southern twang, lived in Staten Island, and was now telling him his name was French. Yep, I’m definitely going to die here. He kept his mistake of thinking he was heading to a meeting with Ford, a legitimate modeling agency, to himself. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, and he also wanted to save himself the embarrassment. And he still needed the money.

Drake took in his surroundings inside the house. There was brown carpet that he was sure was a different color back in the 80s, along with wood-paneled walls. He then looked at his agent. He was wearing brown house slippers, a pair of New York Rangers pajama pants, and a dingy white t-shirt with a small hole in the chest and a larger hole in the armpit. This is one hairy dude.

“Let's go to my studio, shall we?” Neal broke the silence.

Drake felt a glimmer of hope at the word ‘studio.’ That hope immediately turned into dread when Neal led him through the kitchen and to a set of horror movie stairs in the mudroom; they walked down to the musty-smelling basement. The ‘studio’ had orange shag carpet and unfinished concrete walls. In the far corner, there was a makeshift “shooting” area with a white sheet attached to the wall with blue painter’s tape.

Neal walked to a closet and opened the door; he reached in and removed a couple of props and some outfits. He turned and threw a pair of tighty whities, a white ribbed tank top, and a black unitard at Drake. “Here, put one of these on.”

Drake looked at the articles of clothing in horror. “You want me to wear these? Have they been worn before?”

Neal chuckled at Drake’s facial expression. “Does it really matter? You’ll only be wearing them for a few minutes.”

“I don’t think so, man. I’m not going commando in another man’s fatigues.” Drake put the items onto a nearby table.

Neal rolled his eyes. “Fine, then strip!” Neal turned his back on Drake to prepare the camera.

After a lot of grumbling under his breath and more contemplation over leaving, Drake finally complied. He stood in the middle of the room, buck naked, covering his manly goods with his hands. Just then, he heard the basement door creak open and the sound of footsteps.

“Neal, dear, I made cookies for you and your friend.” An elderly lady rounded the corner with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Neal grinned at his mother. “Thanks, Mamaw! They smell delicious. Just hand them to Drake.”

The woman smiled at Drake, offering him the plate. Drake internally panicked. If he removed both hands, he would surely give this lady a sneak peek. He opted to leave one hand in place and take the plate with the other.

“Erm … thank you, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

“You’re welcome, dear. Neal’s friends are always welcome.” Without another word, she made her way back upstairs.

Neal approached Drake and plucked a cookie off of the plate. “Have one. She makes the best cookies.”

****

Charlotte’s cackle interrupted Drake retelling his story. “You mean to tell me, this guy’s mother baked cookies, and you were standing there, ass out on full display while covering your slim jim?”

Liam was sitting on a crate shaking in silent laughter as tears streamed down his face. He was clutching his stomach, and his mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Maxwell shushed Charlotte. “Shhhh, I wanna hear the rest of this story.”

****

Neal looked at Drake as he held the plate of cookies in his hand; his expression was filled with apprehension as he stared at the “photographer.” “Cookies not your thing?” Neal asked as he took a step towards him.

“Uhh …” Drake trailed off.

“I like beef jerky myself.” Drake’s eyebrows raised, and suddenly, Neal procured a bag of beef jerky from the pocket of his pajama pants.

****

“Wait, wait, wait,” Maxwell waved his hands. “This dude just pulled out a random bag from his pants and offered you some meat sticks?”

Drake just stared at him, ignoring Liam and Charlotte who’s laughs became louder, but his attention was pulled when he heard a snort from behind him; he turned to see Bastien in the garage doorway. “Sounds like this Neal fellow wanted a bit of your meat stick, son.”

At Bastien’s words, the normally stoic King completely lost it. Liam’s heel kicked the crate he was sitting on as he doubled forward with a wheezed rush of air; his eyes were squinted, and he struggled to breathe through his laughter.

Charlotte rolled to the floor from her seat, curling into the fetal position at Liam’s feet as she shrieked with laughter. “I … I think ... I think I just wet myself,” she squeaked. Liam’s foot slid as he began to slip off the crate, kicking Charlotte in the head with the tip of his sneaker. “Ow!”

That only caused the pair to laugh harder, and Liam crumpled to the floor, covering Charlotte’s body with his own as they failed miserably to compose themselves.

Drake glared at the hysterical couple. “You guys are such fucking assholes.”

“Well, did you eat the offered jerky or not?” Maxwell asked, causing Liam to screech as he buried his face into the crook of Charlotte’s neck while his entire body shook.

“Yes, Drake, did you eat his meat stick?” Charlotte asked in between laughs. Another loud snort escaped Bastien; Drake turned in time to see the head guard walk out of the garage. Charlotte began to cough, trying her hardest to stop laughing. “Sorry, Drake. Keep going. Please, tell me more.”

“No! Fuck you guys!” Drake stomped away towards a pile of trash that needed to be swept up.

Maxwell pouted. “I really want to know what happens next. Like, did your picture wind up in Women’s Hustler?” Another loud guffaw came from Liam; Charlotte could feel his body vibrating against hers as he failed to stop laughing. Seeing Liam this way was Charlotte’s favorite thing and only made her laugh more.

Drake huffed but continued on as he swept the floor. “So then …”

****

Drake shook his head at Neal. “No, man. I’m good. Thanks …”

Neal shrugged his shoulders. “Alrighty, then.” He pointed towards the shooting area. “Sit on that stool with your feet on the top rung and cross your ankles together, knees apart.”

Drake sat down with his hands still covering his manhood. “Uh … I didn’t realize these were going to be nude photos.”

Neal shook his head, “No, they aren’t nudes. Here …” He tossed Drake an extremely large leather crocodile print handbag. “Put that between your legs.”

“Excuse me? Put what where now?”

“Between your legs! Then put your arms behind your head and flex those muscles.” When Drake did as instructed, Neal approached him; he combed Drake’s hair forward and floofed it; Drake shuddered as the man’s hands touched his hair, and not in the good shudder way. Neal took a step back to examine his work before nodding. Then he held up the camera. “Now give Neal your best smoldering look.” He pronounced Neal as “Nay-al,” speaking with a French accent.

Drake arched his brow. “Did you just say ‘Nay-al’?”

“It is my alter ego when I am in photographer mode. NOW, SMOLDER!” Drake’s eyes slightly widened at Neal’s sudden change of tone before he heard the first click of the camera. Is that … a Polaroid camera? “Pout de’ lips!” Drake looked back at Neal and jutted his bottom lip out awkwardly, unsure what he was doing exactly. “CHIN UP! Hollow those cheeks!” Drake sucked his cheeks between his teeth, still with his lip out as he flexed his muscles. Click after click came, and the camera spit Polaroids out one after the other. Neal suddenly dropped the camera to his side. “No, no … this is all wrong. Something is missing …” Neal popped his hip as he tapped a finger to his lips, thinking. “AH-HA!”

Neal turned on his heel and headed towards a closet, flinging the door open. He began throwing items behind him while he looked for something: a hot pink feather boa sailed through the air, a can of glitter spray, some rope and duct tape, a pair of heeled combat boots, a deflated blow-up doll, and what Drake was pretty certain was a dildo.

Neal emerged from the closet a moment later, holding a pair of sunglasses in his hand with a triumphant smile. “All of that and sunglasses was what you were looking for?”

“Do not question my creative mind! Put these on.” Drake did as he was asked and slipped the sunglasses on; Neal fixed Drake’s hair again and looked at him with a broad grin. “PERFECTION! Now strike that same pose as last time.”

An entire roll of film later -- and after putting on the offered clothes that he had declined to wear before -- Drake was thankful to be slipping back into his own clothing. Neal gathered up the Polaroids scattered around his feet, wearing a gleeful smile. “Uh … so did you get the shots you needed?” Drake asked as he slipped his shoes on.

“Oh, yes,” Neal giggled. “These are splendid.”

Drake watched as he flipped through the pictures, almost as if Neal had forgotten he was even there. Drake cleared his throat. “So, uh … my payment?”

“Oh, right,” Neal said. Keeping his eyes on the photos, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled one dollar bill and outstretched his arm, handing it to Drake.

“A FUCKING DOLLAR?” Drake bellowed; his booming voice caused Neal to snap his gaze over to him.

“A set amount was never agreed upon.”

“GIVE ME THOSE!” Drake snatched the pile of photos from Neal’s hand. “You fucking greasy ass freak!” He turned and stormed up the stairs.

“Did you two have fun?” Neal’s mother asked Drake as he stormed through the kitchen.

Drake didn’t answer. His eyes fell on the plate of cookies; he reached out and snatched one before running outside.

****

“You … you got a whole ass dollar for all of that?” Charlotte howled. Liam was now lying on his back with his hands on his chest; his face was red, and the veins in his neck bulged from lack of oxygen as he continued to laugh. “You can’t even get something from the dollar menu at McDonald’s for just a dollar. You were short of the tax,” she squealed through a giggle, resting her head on Liam as he laughed harder and rolled towards her.

Maxwell stood and clapped Drake on the shoulder. “Sorry your modeling career didn’t work out, buddy. I’m gonna be honest, these aren’t the most flattering photos, so maybe it worked out for the best.” He went back to cleaning out the garage, singing, “I’m a model, you know what I mean. And I do my little turn on the catwalk.” Maxwell spun in a circle and began to moonwalk backward. “Yeah, on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah.”

Charlotte stood up. “Drake shakes his little tush in Neal’s basement.” She turned towards Drake and shimmied her butt. Liam threw his head back in another laugh as he finally attempted to stand.

****

Several days later, Drake was in the newly cleaned garage with his brewing station set up. He was eager to get started after spending a lot of time researching different ingredients and methods. He was interrupted by an urgent knock on the garage door. When he opened it, there was a delivery man holding two large thin packages.

“Drake Walker?” the man asked.

“Yeah, that’s me. What’s all this?”

The man shoved the packages into Drake’s arms as he replied, “Delivery from Her Majesty, the Queen.”

Drake peeled off the envelope from the front of one of the boxes.

Dear Drake,

I thought these would add a nice touch to your brewery.

xoxo,

Charlotte

Drake opened the boxes and noticed that they were large pictures. When he saw what they were, he groaned. He looked at 24 by 36 framed canvases of his modeling photos. “Why did I think this would be something I actually wanted?”

****************************

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

no grave can hold my body down – 1/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 5,500

A/N: I am very new to this fandom and extremely nervous to write something for it. To clarify, I have not read any of the comics. But I’ve watched a lot of the TV and movie adaptations, and have done a lot of research. Jason is much older in this – like 30? – and therefore the rest of the BatFam is older, as well. But this takes place after Jason Todd is resurrected, but is still on rocky territory with his family.

Jason dropped down to the fire escape of his apartment with a quietness that seemed impossible for how large he was.

On the other side of the small fire escape, Y/N sat with a blanket over her lap, a book in her hand, and a mug of coffee balanced perfectly on the metal grates.

“Thought I told you not to wait up for me,” Jason greeted, knowing she noticed his arrival, but just kept reading her book. His book, to be precise.

It was almost 4AM and Jason had called it a night after taking out an entire drug cartel. It had been a lot of waiting, until it finally led up to 20 minutes of utter chaos. He left them on a silver platter for the police to arrest them and actually clean up the mess.

Y/N finally looked up at him and he saw how tired her eyes seemed. But she gave him a soft smile, clearly happy to see him home and...alive.

A pang of guilt went through him. He did that to her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she told him with a shrug.

Jason slowly nodded. Then he nudged his head towards the book, “Jane Eyre again?”

She smirked. “It’s a comfort read.”

He smiled back at her – which she couldn’t even see, because he was still wearing the red helmet that covered his entire head.

“You shouldn’t stay out here so long. It’s too cold.”

“I was waiting for you,” she countered.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep.”

“I couldn’t…because I was worried about you,” she finally admitted.

There it was.

“You have a voicemail on your cellphone. Alfred called,” she quickly added to change the subject.

Jason left his personal cellphone at home when he was on patrol, not wanting any sort of pointless distractions. Y/N had a direct line to his comms if there was an emergency, which was the only thing he cared about. His old family could figure out ways to contact him if they really wanted to. But he didn’t go out of his way to give them that info.

“Get inside before you catch a cold,” he told her as he nodded toward the open window.

She chuckled at his attempt to sound stern. It was hard for her to take it seriously. But she listened to him anyway, knowing that if she tried to ignore him, it would end in him dragging her inside. And that was not a physical battle she ever had a chance at winning.

30 minutes later, Y/N was laying in bed and still reading her book as Jason tried to erase the night.

He always took long, scolding showers after patrol. Even if there was no blood to be washed away, there was always a need to cleanse himself of…something.

Y/N had asked him if he was hurt as she crawled through the window back inside their apartment.

“I’m fine,” he’d insisted.

But she knew “fine” just meant he didn’t need stitches, or bones reset, or the need to call the actual doctor he had a certain under-the-table deal with. She also knew she shouldn’t be surprised when he took off his clothes and she would see new bruises and shallow cuts covering his skin.

Jason finally crawled into bed with nothing but his black briefs. His hair still wet from the burning shower he just took.

He let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling.

It was always a battle for Y/N, trying to figure out when to leave Jason to his thoughts and when to force him to talk. She knew he couldn’t drown himself in his own mind. But she also knew she couldn’t pretend to be his therapist.

“J?” She asked him softly as she put her book down.

“Hmm?” He asked, looking at her.

“You OK?”

He nodded.

She let it be.

Jason turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “Alfred has a foundation to raise money for under-funded schools in Gotham. It’s all him, but it has Bruce’s name all over it so all the rich assholes will want to save face with the Wayne family by donating.”

“I can support that type of manipulation,” Y/N said with a smirk.

“He holds a gala at Wayne Manor for it every year. Gets them at least a mil every time.”

She listened closely.

Then Jason looked at her again. “He asked me to come this year.”

“Oh,” her face fell.

Jason had told Y/N about his tumultuous relationship with his family. While he mended most of the damage with his brothers, he wasn’t quite willing to do so with Bruce. Y/N didn’t try to push Jason to reconcile with his adoptive father. She understood his heartbreak and frustrations there. She wasn’t a huge fan of Bruce herself after learning the damage he’d done to her boyfriend.

But it was because of the past traumas that Y/N hadn’t met any of Jason’s hodgepodge, vigilante family.

She also guessed that it was his overprotectiveness of her that stopped him from wanting to fully submerge her in that part of his life. To Jason, the less she knew about the Bat Family, the safer she was.

“He asked me to bring you, too.” Jason suddenly added.

Y/N blinked. “I…I didn’t realize they knew about me.”

He smirked at that. “Of course they do.”

“Even Bruce?”

His smirk disappeared. “Well, I didn’t tell him. But he’s a nosey son of a bitch. And even if he didn’t figure it out for himself, one of my brothers probably ran their mouth.”

Y/N didn’t think Jason and Bruce had a conversation out of uniform since he became the Red Hood. Probably hadn’t even addressed each other by their actual names in years.

Y/N fully turned on her side to face her boyfriend and scooted closer. “What do you want to do?” She asked carefully.

Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he too turned on his side and stole a look at her. She looked so tired, but still beautiful. He knew he put her through too much. He didn’t deserve her. And she deserved a better man than he could ever be. He had guilt on his conscience, blood on his hands. He was the poster child for the harshness that was Gotham. She was a normal woman who would’ve never gotten mixed up in this world if it weren’t for him.

But Y/N insisted that she wanted to be here. Told him so by just staying each and every day, and never questioning her decision. Even left New York City to slum it in Gotham with him.

Jason brushed some hair away from her face.

“You’d come with me?”

Her face scrunched from him even feeling the need to ask. “Of course.” Then she gave him a sad look, “I’ve been wanting to meet your family for awhile.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked.

Her eyes darkened. “You know why, J.”

He stayed silent.

“Listen, I know things haven’t been…good with your family. But I also know that they raised you. Whether you want to admit it or not, a lot of the man you are today is because of them. And I happen to love that man. So, yeah, I’ve wanted to meet them.”

Jason had a look full of love that he was trying to contain. “Come here,” he demanded with a grin.

Y/N giggled and moved into his arms.

Jason immediately pivoted her body so she was hovering over him. Without any hesitation, he pulled her down for a kiss.

“It’s gonna be filled with rich snobs and ass kissers. Don’t go hoping for a fun time,” he warned her as he narrowed his gaze playfully.

“Then you’re really gonna need me there. Who else is gonna make fun of them with you?” She teased.

Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Will this be a fancy affair?”

“Unfortunately.”

Her gaze darkened. “So, I’m gonna see you in a suit, huh?”

Jason pinched her sides.

Y/N yelped before laughing, “Do you even own a suit? I’ve never seen it in your closet.”

Suddenly he flipped her body so he was now the one hovering over her. Y/N couldn’t ignore Jason’s massive size when she was caged below him like that. “You’re on thin ice, kid.”

“Oooh. I’m so scared,” she mocked.

Jason almost looked offended.

But he sighed, getting back to the previous subject. “If I have to wear a suit, that means you have to wear a dress.”

“Or I could wear a suit, too.” She countered and raised a brow at him.

He smirked at her challenge. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one either.”

That seemed to please her.

“I promise I’ll look real pretty. Ya know, really play the part of the arm candy for the famous Jason Todd.”

Jason scoffed. “You’re always beautiful.” Then his gaze darkened. “And the arm candy was always Bruce and Dick’s thing. Not mine.”

“OK. So what should I be?”

“My accomplice,” Jason confirmed.

——————————————————

Y/N fidgeted in the back seat of the car as the black car drove to the outskirts of Gotham and to the Wayne Estate.

Jason had sent her a text from his patrol comms about something coming up. Vague, as always. He did it to keep her in the dark as much as possible.

Apparently he’d tried to tell Alfred they couldn’t make it. But the old man wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. He told Jason he’d send a car for Y/N and that he better show up too.

Y/N had worn her fanciest dress, curled her hair, and done her makeup to perfection. She knew she could dress the part, but it was the acting bit that had her stressed out.

Despite Jason’s relationship with his family, she still dreaded the thought that they wouldn’t like her and that they wouldn’t approve. Yeah, they were secretly vigilantes, but they were also the richest people in Gotham.

Y/N swallowed as the car parked right outside the front entrance of Wayne Manor. There seemed to already be hundreds of people there. Everyone looked rich and fancier than Y/N could ever even pretend to be.

‘You’re here for Jason. You’re here for Jason.’ She repeated in her mind as the driver opened the door for her and offered his hand.

Y/N told herself to become a character as she held her head high and made her way into the mansion.

“Mansion” didn’t even seem to cover it. Y/N felt like she was in a Jane Austen novel or Downton Abbey.

Guests eyed her as soon as she made her way inside. She was much younger than the general demographic of the party. It seemed that old money also meant literally old.

She did a once over to see if she could find Jason. But he was nowhere to be found. Y/N decided she needed a drink to face a gala full of unwelcoming strangers alone.

She ignored the curious and judgmental gazes as she made her way to one of the many bars set up through the home.

‘Maybe red was too much,’ her imposter syndrome was telling her. Clearly it was making her stick out. But she knew Jason loved seeing her in red.

Y/N quickly ordered a strong drink from the bartender, who was kind enough to sense that this young woman needed liquid courage and she needed it fast.

“Are you sure you meant to use that bottle?” A male voice came up beside her, speaking to the bartender on her behalf.

Y/N turned to see a very boyishly handsome man with blue eyes and brown hair so dark that it was almost black.

He gave that bartender a look and Y/N watched as he nervously grabbed the much more expensive brand – the one Y/N would never in her life buy for herself.

“Thank you,” Y/N said as politely as possible when the bartender slid the drink towards her.

Then she turned her attention to the young man. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gave her a crooked smirk. “You deserve the very best.”

Y/N might not have ever met Jason’s brothers. But they were famous enough to make frequent appearances in the media. Everyone in Gotham knew what the Wayne kids looked like. Especially Dick Grayson, who seemed to thrive in the spotlight in a similar manner to his father.

“Oh? And how do you know what I deserve? You don’t know me at all,” Y/N challenged with a tilt of her head.

Her sass seemed to excite him.

“Well, I was hoping, since I saved you from the cheap stuff, that you’d give me a chance to.”

Y/N shook her head with an almost baffled smile. This faux charm and air of confidence was so unlike Jason’s. While Jason was quietly confident and sure of himself. It came almost from a place of nihilism. But Dick…Dick had an edge of haughtiness and self importance.

“Your reputation precedes you, Dick Grayson,” Y/N cooed, with mischievous glint in her gaze, before taking a sip of her drink. He was right: this was the good stuff.

Dick’s amusement seemed to falter now that she confessed to knowing exactly who he was. “And what reputation is that exactly?”

“Cocky, charming…flirtatious.”

Dick didn’t seem to mind these adjectives at all. In fact, he seemed rather proud of himself. He stepped a little closer to her. “It feels a little unfair that you seem to know me, but I haven’t even gotten your name.”

Y/N tried to suppress her smile. She was really starting to enjoy this little game. “You’ll realize soon enough.”

“Well, until then…” He stepped even closer and somehow managed to put his hand on her back without it feeling creepy. “Would you like to dance?”

“Move that hand any lower, Dick, and I’ll fuckin’ break it,” Jason said from behind Y/N.

Dick barely moved away from Y/N, but looked at his brother with confusion.

Y/N turned and maneuvered her body away from Dick’s grasp.

Then she smiled at Jason as she took in the sight of her boyfriend wearing a suit. Like, a real suit, not one made for a vigilante. He managed to tame his hair without using too much product. And his face had its signature scruff but cleaned up a bit.

“How long has this one been annoying you?” Jason asked her.

“Not long,” she replied before giving him a sweet kiss.

Y/N turned to face Dick again, but remained close to Jason’s side. On instinct alone, Jason placed his hand on her back and pulled her even closer. It wasn’t possessive, but a habit he formed to comfort himself.

Dick blinked as his mind clearly figured out the change in situation.

“You’re Y/N?” He asked her.

She smirked. “Told you that you’d realize it soon enough.”

“Dick, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is, Dick Grayson.”

Y/N didn’t miss how Jason didn’t refer to Dick as his brother.

To his credit, Dick recovered rather quickly and politely offered his hand. Y/N didn’t hesitate to shake it. After all, she still wanted to make a good impression on his family. And the flirting was harmless.

“I apologize for…” Dick’s words died out.

“Hitting on me?” Y/N offered with a laugh. “I would say I’m flattered, but I’m sure I’m one of many women you will be making moves on tonight.”

“Do it again, and I’ll swap out the rubber bullets in my guns, Dick.” Jason half warned and half joked.

Dick seemed unfazed by the threat. “Why don’t you say it a little louder so more people can hear?”

Jason ignored his brother’s warning.

He turned his gaze down to Y/N. “Let’s go introduce you to Alfred.”

Jason held her hand as he made his way through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to do. Y/N assumed it had to do with him technically being a Wayne or perhaps it was his large and imposing frame that told people to get the hell out of his way.

Then Y/N was standing in front of an elderly man who had perfect posture and mischievous edge to his welcoming smile.

“Master Jason, I see that you have finally brought Ms. Y/L/N for me to meet,” Alfred said with a smile.

Out of all his siblings and father, Alfred seemed to be the only family member that Jason didn’t hold any sort of grudge against. Though Y/N wasn’t really sure what anyone would have against him. From everything she heard, he sounded absolutely lovely.

He held out his hand, which Y/N instantly went to shake. But instead, Alfred brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. There was something about this family that made everything they do seem charming rather than creepy and uncomfortable.

Y/N laughed at the gesture. “It’s so nice to meet you, Alfred. I’ve heard so much about you.”

He patted her hand before letting it go gently. “I wish I could say the same for you, dear. But it would appear Master Jason prefers to keep you entirely to himself.”

She just gave him a polite – yet controlled – smile. Another side effect of Jason being overprotective of her.

“Thank you for sending the car for me. You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.

“Oh, nonsense. I would not allow this one to use any excuse for missing tonight.”

Y/N asked him about his foundation with genuine interest. Alfred answered all of her questions with enthusiasm. She wondered how often Alfred got to talk about normal things with the Wayne family. She could only imagine the manor was entirely consumed with matters of vigilantism.

Alfred also asked Y/N far more questions about herself than she was prepared for. It made her realize that Jason really did keep her quite the secret. Y/N knew she shouldn’t be offended by it, but it made her sad that Jason’s family had clearly shown such an interest in her. Had she known, she may have put more pressure on Jason to introduce her.

There was a lull in conversation when Alfred’s gaze turned to Jason.

“Have you spoken with him yet?” He asked evenly.

They all know who ‘him’ was.

“I’m here for you, Alfred.” Jason quickly answered. “And we’ve kept you selfishly to ourselves for far too long. I’m sure everyone here wants to talk with you.”

Nice save.

Alfred dipped his head and lowered his voice, “Oh, you are two of the few people here whom I actually wish to converse with…” He finished with a wink before leaving them.

“And here I thought you got all your charm from Bruce Wayne,” Y/N teased her boyfriend.

But when she looked up at Jason, he had a dazed looked in his eyes.

“Hey,” she squeezed his hand in comfort. “You don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want to. In fact, we can go now if you want.”

Jason snapped out of it then. “And leave without destroying this open bar? Absolutely not.” Then he seemed to take her in for the first time that night. “Plus, you deserve to be shown off.”

He leaned down to her ear. “I was so distracted with saving you from Dick that I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight.”

No matter how many times he said things like that to her or made her feel this way, she still managed to blush at such compliments.

And for good measure, Jason sealed the praise with a kiss, lightly gripping her chin to make sure she didn’t escape too soon for his liking.

He barely pulled away from her lips when he smiled and muttered, “Come on. Let’s go steal ourselves a bottle of Dom Pérignon.”

“Jason,” she scolded in a whisper, “Those cost like $2,000!”

“Exactly.”

The next hour or so was filled with Jason and Y/N drinking champagne while standing in a corner that protected them from being interrupted. And Y/N did exactly as she promised: joking with Jason about all the stuck up rich people that just came to kiss ass and social climb.

They were laughing about an old man that was desperately trying to hit on a young woman half his age when someone politely cleared their throat beside them.

But Jason smiled at the interruption.

A young man, who couldn’t be older than his early 20s, was giving Y/N a delighted smile. However, the first thing she noticed were the shadows under his eyes and how tired he looked. But that didn’t stop his excitement from showing.

“Y/N, this is my younger brother, Tim Drake. Tim, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

With a dorky enthusiasm, he shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. We’ve all been annoying Jason about bringing you around for quite some time.”

She smiled, “So I’ve heard…” Then she gave Jason a subtle accusatory look.

Tim’s face turned serious, as if he just remembered why he came over in the first place. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Jason would you mind…umm…looking at something for me real quick?”

Jason’s back straightened.

Tim was trying to be polite to the two’s relationship by keeping out any and all details pertaining to their night life.

But it was clear to Y/N that was what Tim was referring to.

Jason looked down at her.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she teased him. “Go. I can entertain myself.”

He kissed her cheek and whispered, “If I’m not back in 30 minutes, please come rescue me.”

She chuckled. “I would, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to find you...”

“I’ll bring him back in no time, Y/N. Promise.” Tim told her with a beaming smile.

Y/N watched them go and Jason gave her one last reluctant look over his shoulder before he disappeared around a corner.

Y/N sighed and poured another glass of champagne and told herself it was time to mingle. But when she looked up, there wasn’t a single person that looked like they had any interest in making new friends.

‘Some party this is,’ she thought to herself before abandoning her post and deciding to take herself on a tour of Wayne Manor.

Y/N decided she wanted to escape the curious and judgmental gazes of the party, and found herself in a darker hallway. Candles were lit everywhere, giving it a gothic semblance.

Y/N’s heartbeat quickened when she realized she’d discovered a hallway filled with artwork. Millions upon millions of dollars worth of artwork, to be precise.

She was glad no one else seemed to have wandered this far, for she could take her time to look at all of it.

“I think you might be the only guest of the manor who has ever taken the time to look at the artwork.”

Y/N jumped at the voice and turned to see the infamous Bruce Wayne watching her with what seemed to be amusement.

He was nearly as tall as Jason – nowhere near as stout, though. But that didn’t seem to matter because he had an intimidating presence that had Y/N realizing it made perfect sense that this man was also Batman.

She had no idea how long she’d been staring at the paintings. It was easy for her to get lost in art. It tended to consume her.

“Well, not everyone has a Caravaggio casually hanging in their home.”

Bruce chuckled at that.

“Sorry,” she quickly told him. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I feel like I’m at the Louvre.”

“Please,” he declined such an apology. “No one in that party could tell the difference between an oil and acrylic painting. It’s refreshing to meet someone who can appreciate art.” He paused. “Have you been?”

“Have I been where?”

“To the Louvre.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “Umm...no, sadly. It’s been my dream to go to Paris in general. I don’t speak French, though. So I don’t know how that would work out.”

Bruce Wayne seemed to be listening closely and had genuine interest in what she was saying. Which felt strange to her for some reason.

Suddenly, Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be talking to him. Jason made it clear he had no intention of making peace tonight. So Y/N figured she was meant to keep her distance as well.

“I’m…” she began.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” Bruce finished for her.

She raised a brow, unimpressed.

Of course Batman would know every single person coming into his home. He probably caught her lingering in this hallway from multiple hidden security cameras.

He reached out his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between his fixed stare and his offered hand.

But it ended with her shaking it, nonetheless.

“Thank you for bringing Jason tonight. I have a feeling he would’ve never shown had it not been for you.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched in an attempt to stop herself from lashing out at Bruce.

Yes, Jason was protective of her. But Y/N was also protective of Jason.

It wasn’t the Wayne family that talked Jason out of the darkness. They weren’t the one who comforted him after his nightmares. They weren’t the one who kissed and touched the autopsy scars that he was ashamed of. They weren’t the one who made him realize he wasn’t a failure or a monster, that he was worth something.

That was Y/N.

And she wasn’t going to let any of them cause him to relapse.

“Did he tell you not to talk to me?” Bruce questioned.

He wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Jason doesn’t tell me what to do.”

Bruce smirked at how she didn’t back down and met his confrontation with confidence. “You’re not too fond of me, are you?”

Y/N shifted her weight a bit, but kept quiet, not wanting to confirm or deny his suspicions.

“I’m not sure what Jason told–”

“He told me everything,” Y/N cut him off sharply.

Bruce tilted his head. “Surely not everything.” Proving that he knew Jason completely kept Y/N away from his vigilante and crime life.

Then Y/N lost her composure and took a step toward Bruce. “You call him your greatest failure,” she accused him.

“Because I let him down.”

“But it doesn’t matter how you meant it. How do you think that makes him feel?”

Bruce’s body tensed and his jaw tightened.

Suddenly a dog came running out of nowhere and nearly tackled Y/N. She managed to stay on her feet, but her glass of champagne was knocked from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

“Titus!” Bruce growled at the dog.

A second later, a boy came running.

“Damian, what did I tell you about keeping pets away from parties,” Bruce scolded.

“I apologize,” Damian told Y/N in a voice that should’ve belonged to an adult, rather than a pre-teen boy. But he seemed rather annoyed that he had to apologize to a stranger.

Y/N chuckled at the black Great Dane. She barely had to bend down to pet the giant dog. “It’s fine. Dogs are always my favorite people I meet at parties.”

Damian looked between his father and Y/N, immediately getting the sense that she was not the average party guest.

“Who’s she?” He asked bluntly.

“Damian, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N.” Bruce gestured with an upturned palm.

“Todd’s companion?” Damian stated, clearly sounding unimpressed.

Jesus. They really did all know about her.

“Damian…” was all Bruce said to warn his son.

“I don’t know what you see in him.”

“That’s enough, Damian.” Bruce snapped.

That finally got the boy to shut his mouth.

Y/N was about to tell both of them that it was fine. She had expected such greetings from Jason’s youngest brother.

But her attention was diverted when she noticed Jason standing at the edge of the hallway.

Bruce followed her gaze.

There was a stare down between the two men that felt like an hour to Y/N.

“Jason,” Bruce greeted steadily.

Jason looked at his family coldly. “Bruce,” he replied with even less emotion. Then he looked down at his youngest brother, “Demon Spawn.”

“Todd,” Damian spat back.

Jason’s gaze softened when it landed on Y/N. Ignoring the tension, he reached out a hand in her direction. “We should say our goodbyes to Alfred.”

Y/N nodded and walked to her boyfriend, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He quickly guided them back to the party without a second glance to Bruce and Damian.

As soon as they were in a mass of people again, Y/N turned to Jason to ask him if he was OK. A part of her felt guilty, like she’d been caught doing something bad by being alone with Bruce Wayne.

But Jason seemed to sense her concern and spoke before she could. “I’m stealing another bottle of champagne before we go,” and quickly went to the bar.

“He lasted longer than I expected,” Dick’s voice came up beside her.

Y/N barely glanced at him. “I’m proud of him,” was all she replied, as they both watched him.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. I’m afraid I didn’t give you the best first impression.”

Y/N fully turned to face him and laughed lightly. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m sure you think we’re all just being polite…but all of us really were looking forward to meeting you, Y/N.”

“Even Damian?” She teased.

Dick laughed. “Well, rumor is that Titus took an immediate liking to you. And Damian trusts his pets’ judgement of character more than any of ours.”

News really did travel fast in this family.

Y/N smiled at that. “I’ve wanted to meet all of you for so long. I’m glad we finally made it happen.” She went back to their original topic.

Dick winced. “I’d rather not think about what Jason’s said about us…”

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised,” she countered.

“Ready to go?” Jason interrupted, ignoring Dick.

For good measure, he dipped down to kiss Y/N’s bare shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s go say bye to Alfred.”

But she turned back to Dick. And to everyone’s surprise, she wrapped him into a hug. Dick was surprised, but welcomed the gesture.

“Please keep an eye on him out there,” she whispered to him quietly enough so Jason didn’t have a chance of overhearing.

“Of course,” he told her.

————————

Bruce pretended to be listening to a conversation with old family friends as he watched Y/N and Jason hug Alfred goodbye.

He noticed Y/N say something to Alfred that made the butler’s face go serious. Then she handed him a business card.

Bruce wanted to talk with Jason. He’d been both dreading and looking forward to tonight, hoping a miracle would occur and he could finally mend things with his son.

But the way Jason had looked at him, Bruce knew everything he was feeling and it was clear Jason wasn’t going to let things go between them any time soon.

Bruce politely excused himself and went to Alfred’s side.

“What was that last bit about?” Bruce asked, indirectly telling Alfred that he’d been observing their conversation.

Now the two men both watched Jason and Y/N from a window that gave a view of the front drive.

Y/N threw her head back and laughed loudly at something Jason had whispered in her ear.

“She asked if I could teach her first aid.”

They both know it went much deeper than first aid. Y/N was asking Alfred to show her how to stitch wounds, how to extract bullets, when to know Jason was too hurt to be fixed up by his inexperienced girlfriend.

“She’s good for him,” Bruce thought aloud.

“That she is, Master Bruce.”

“I forgot what his laugh sounded like.” Bruce paused for a moment before adding, “I’ve never seen him smile like this. Not even before…” His words died. They both knew what ‘before’ was referring to.

Suddenly Y/N pointed to Jason as she walked backwards, clearly giving him a warning of some sort.

But Jason ignored her as he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around her thighs, securing her body to his chest, while the other hand held a bottle of champagne.

They could hear Y/N’s laughter, even from inside the mansion.

Alfred observed how Bruce watched his second son. “You must give him more time, Master Bruce.”

However, Bruce said nothing in return.

--------------------

Part 2

Please, please, please let me know what you think. I will take constructive criticism on my characterization of Jason Todd, as long as it’s done nicely😅

[Also, I finally stopped being lazy and made my own header. 😂]

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rowyn-writes · 3 years

Text

Confidence (Jack x Reader)

Warnings: Fluff, strong language, arguing siblings

Pairings: Jack Kline x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jack, Castiel (mentioned only,) Claire (mentioned only.)

Word Count: 2124

Summary: You start to notice that Jack tends to stay by your side whenever he can.

Requested by: @nancyangel

Part Two: Dying From a Broken Heart

You sat in your room in the bunker, casually reading on of your many books that lined your walls. You were a bookworm, much like you older brother, Sam. You liked being by yourself with your books and a cup of coffee, as cliche as it sounds.

Right now, you needed an escape from your world and into another one where you know how everything ends. Your half brothers, Sam and Dean we're currently trying to figure out a way to get their mother back from apocalypse world.

You were John's daughter, being the youngest Winchester there was. Along with being the baby of the family, your brothers were over protective of you.

Most of the time you weren't allowed out on a hunt, so you stayed in the bunker and helped with lore and things like that while Sam and Dean would do the hunting.

Lately, however, you were getting more involved, much to your brother's dismay. You loved Sam and Dean with all your heart, but they could be overbearing at times.

You closed your book when you heard a knock on your door. "It's open." You called.

Jack popped his head into the room. "Hey, Y/n. Can I come in?" He asked.

"Sure." You nodded.

Jack took a seat on the chair that sat in front of your small desk. "What's up?"

"Sam and Dean are going on a hunt and I was wondering if you were going?" This was news to you. You're had no idea that your brothers were going on a hunting trip.

You frowned as you go up off your position on the bed. "Now I am." You said, getting your bag ready. "You coming too?"

"Yes." Jack nodded. You told him to finish packing while you did the same.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?" You asked just as Sam and Dean were about to walk out of the bunker.

Dean let his head fall as he sighed. "You're not coming."

"The hell I'm not." You snapped.

"Dean's right." Sam agreed. "You should sit this one out."

You let out a frustrated grunt. "C'mon. Why are you still treating me like I'm twelve? I'm almost 22."

"You're not ready, Y/n."

"I'm not ready?" You scoffed. "But you let Jack go, and technically, he's barely three months old."

"That's different." Dean said.

"How?! How is that different?! I grew up hunting with you guys and Dad, I know what to do!" You argued.

"It's different because you'll die if something happens! Jack has powers and can defend himself! You don't!" Dean hissed.

"This is ridiculous!" You huffed.

"Maybe next time, Y/n." Sam gave you a smile, which you didn't return. "Alright, Jack!" Sam called out. "Let's go!"

Jack appeared beside them in a second, making you jump slightly. "See you later, Y/n." Dean said. He looked like he wanted to give you a hug but decided against it, because you might knee him in the groin if you had the chance.

"You're not coming, Y/n?" Jack asked, seeming disappointed.

"Apparently not."

Jack seemed to hesitate by the door. "On second thought, I think I'll stay here. You guys don't really need my help, do you?"

Sam and Dean seemed surprised by his change of plans. Jack had been wanting to go on a hunting trip with them for a while. "I guess not." Sam said. And with that, they were gone.

"Why didn't you go with them?" You asked Jack. "You've been wanting to go on a hunting trip with them for a while, so why did you back out?"

"I thought you could use the company." He shrugged.

. .

. . .

Sam and Dean returned about two days later, clearly pleased that you and Jack had stayed at the bunker. You had thought of finding you own case, maybe even hunting with Claire, but decided against it.

But that doesn't mean you still weren't pissed at your brothers. They kept treating you like you were five, when you were 21. It was infuriating. That's why you were determined to find a case.

"Hey, so look what I found." You said, holding your computer up to your brothers. "Five people dead. All found without their hearts. However, there was six victims. One survived. If we can find out who's killing these people, we can put down the son of a bitch."

"Where's this happening at?" Dean asked gruffly.

"Little Rock, Arkansas."

Dean nodded his head. "Okay. Sammy, pack your things, Y/n, send us the address. We'll call you when you get there."

"Wait a minute." You protested. "You said that I would get to come with you on the next hunt! This is the next hunt."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're not coming."

"Oh come on!" You yelled angrily. "You have got to be kidding me! You promised that you would take me out on the hunt!"

"I never promised." Dean reminded her. "I never make promises I can't keep. You know that."

"You're being ridiculous! C'mon Sam, back me up here." You looked over to the man, giving him pleading eyes.

"I think Y/n's right Dean." He agreed. "We've seen what she can do, handling a werewolf or two isn't anything she can't handle."

Dean frowned, looking back and forth between you and Sam. "I'm not gonna win this argument, am I?"

"Nope."

"Fine. Go pack your things. Tell Jack to do the same." You nodded, calmly walking away. But as soon as you were out of sight from Sam and Dean, you gave a tiny squeal and did a little dance.

"Are we celebrating something?" Jack asked from behind you, making you jump slightly.

You gave him a big smile. "That we are, Jack. Sam and Dean are letting us go on a hunt! So pack your bags, we leave in an hour!"

You quickly packed your bag full of clothes and other essentials and put them in the trunk of the Impala.

Jack sat in the back seat with you; it was only logical, since Sam was the Jolly Green Giant and could barely fit back there.

While you loved the Impala, you did not love the kind of music that played constantly. As Sam once put it, "It's the greatest hits of Mullet Rock." So you had brought your phone and a pair of earbuds.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked curiously.

"Listening to music."

"But Dean has music playing?" He furrowed his eyebrows, making your heart soar at his cute little scrunched up face.

"Yeah, well, Dean and I have very different tastes in music. Here, listen to this." You gave him the other earbud you had.

Jack seemed to like your selection of music, as he grinned as the song played on. After a while of driving, your legs began to cramp. Whether you were tall or short, being in the back of the Impala for a long time did nothing to help your legs.

You tried to find a position where you weren't invading Jack's bubble, as not to touch him because you didn't know how he would react.

"You can stretch out your legs." Jack said, as if reading your thoughts. "I don't mind." You gave him a grateful smile as you rested your legs in his lap.

About four hours in, you began to doze off. Car rides were always relaxing to you, seeing your surroundings blur as you sped past, feeling the Impala rock beneath you, and being able to spread out in the back seat.

Although, you couldn't count how many times you had to disinfect the back seat because of your brothers. Mostly Dean.

You were woken up rather unpleasantly by Dean. You had been leaning against the door of the Impala when he yanked the door open, causing you to tumble out of the car. "Thanks for the awesome wake-up call, dick." You growled.

"No problem, fuck-face." He grinned as he helped you up. You grabbed your stuff and checked into your motel room.

It was like every other motel you've ever stayed at, rock hard beds, ugly wall patterns, and a small box T.V.

You went ahead and changed into your FBI clothes, a light blue button down shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans, matching boots and a blazer. "You boys ready?" You asked, exiting the bathroom to see all of them had changed into their uniforms.

You all piled into the Impala once more and headed to the local police station, and then to the hospital.

. .

. . .

You had found out nothing. There was no victimology, no connection, nothing. You figured there wouldn't be a pattern, it was a werewolf, after all.

You did know, however, that the werewolf was a Purebred, as the moon cycle didn't line up with the victims deaths.

And the surviving victim was a fifteen year old girl. Thankfully, she hadn't been bitten. But she was in so much shock that she couldn't remember her attackers face.

"Poor girl." You commented, shrugging off your blazer. "She's never going to be the same."

"She'll learn to cope." Dean assured you. "Okay, so Jack and I are gonna go to where the bodies were found and dig around a little, you and Sam stay here and see what you can find out about this town. See if there's any kind of pattern with the killings."

"Actually, could I stay here with Y/n and help her?" Jack asked.

Dean looked taken aback slightly. "Uh, yeah, sure kid. Sammy, let's go." Once the two brothers were in the car, Dean looked over at Sam. "Jack has a crush on Y/n." He frowned.

Sam snorted. "Okay? And you couldn't tell that before? I kinda thought it was obvious."

Dean cuffed Sam. "Alright, Captain Jack-ass. I was just saying maybe we shouldn't leave Y/n and Jack alone."

"Oh, please." Sam scoffed. "Nothing's gonna happen."

You got out your laptop and sat on one of the beds. You noticed that Jack was watching you from the couch. It was obvious be wanted to say something.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Yes, Y/n?" He looked excited to see that you engaged in a conversation with him first.

"How come you wanted to stay behind with me?"

"Oh, did you want me to go with Dean?" Jack seemed disappointed.

"No, no. That's not it!" You assured him quickly. He looked extremely relieved to hear that. "I was just curious. On the last hunt that Sam and Dean went on, you decided to stay behind with me too. And whenever I go out to grab food or something, you always come with me. I love your company, so please don't take that the wrong way. I was just wondering."

Jack thought over your words for a few moments before answering. "I don't really feel confident around anyone. Sometimes I feel like another burden onto Sam, Dean and Cas. But with you, I feel like I'm not judged."

"You're not judged by any of us, Jack. You know that." You frowned.

"I know that, I just can't help but feel that way sometimes. But things are different with you. I feel confident and safe, like I can be myself whenever you're around. I enjoy being around you, Y/n."

You felt your heart melt at Jack's words. You felt exactly the same way about him. While growing up, you never really had boyfriends, just a one night stand here and there (which your brothers definitely didn't know about.)

"Jack." You started. "Do you see me the same way you see Sam and Dean?"

"No. It feels different. I can't really explain it. It's like. . . When I'm with you, I can feel my heart start to beat faster, and my palms get kind of sweaty. I don't do that when I'm around Sam and Dean." He explained.

You smiled as you realized what he was saying. "Jack, I think that means you have a crush on me."

"Crush you?!" Jack looked startled. "I would never hurt you!"

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant." You sighed as you tried to break it down to him. "It means you really like someone, but not as a friend. Kind of like a boyfriend or girlfriend."

Realization dawned on Jack as he soaked in your words. "Then can I be your boyfriend?" He asked eagerly.

You gave a small laugh. "Yeah, you can." You kissed him on the cheek. Jack's face became pink under your gaze.

"Could I kiss your lips?" You didn't answer as your lips brushed over his.

"Does that answer your question?" He nodded happily as a smile formed on his face. He felt happy and safe with you standing in front of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I was thinking about making a part two? Tell me what you think!

#dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #castiel imagine #gabriel imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline x reader #jack kline x winchester!reader

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?

There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.

About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.

Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.

Or at least not today.

He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.

It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.

Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.

But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.

Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.

With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.

“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.

“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”

Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.

“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”

“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”

“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."

“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”

“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”

“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”

It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.

“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”

He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.

Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.

She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.

Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.

With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”

“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”

Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.

“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."

“I’ve been better.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”

“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”

“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”

Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.

“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”

“Ethan…”

“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.

“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”

Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.

It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.

Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.

Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.

“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”

“Where is the deal part?”

“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”

“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”

They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.

But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.

“Ethan? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”

“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”

It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.

“I’m thinking about Francis.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”

“I take it you mean the opera?”

“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”

The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”

It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.

“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”

It was her turn to be speechless.

Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.

Tu pure, oh Principessa

Nella tua fredda stanza

Guardi le stelle

Che tremano d'amore

E di speranza**

She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.

Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.

Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.

She knew.

He will always be here.

And she will always be here, too.

-----

** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".

Translation:

Even you, oh Princess,

In your cold room,

Watch the stars,

That tremble with love

And with hope.

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x noelle

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onegayastronaut · 3 years

Text

Regret (Jennifer Jareau x Reader)

Words: 2592

You weren’t sure when you started having feelings for JJ, but once you realized what was happening, it was too late for you to turn back. Every time she looked at you or touched your arm, you were sure that she could hear how fast your heart was beating. Most days, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, and either Tara or Emily would have to kick your leg under the table so that you wouldn’t be too obvious.

On one of your weekly get togethers, Garcia came in with her usual offering of tequila. JJ had texted the group chat that she would be coming in late because the nanny had run into traffic, and the girls have decided to take this time to interrogate you about your feelings.

“So, (Y/N)! Tell me, how deep are your feelings for our JJ?”

“Feelings? What feelings? I don’t have any feelings for her!”

“Oooh, she’s defensive!” Tara raised her eyebrows at the others. “We all know what that means. If the lady doth protest too much, then we’ve hit jackpot!”

“Listen, guys, we all know JJ’s amazing in every sense of the word. And it doesn’t help that she is ridiculously good looking. I know that I will die for her without hesitation if the need ever arises, but she’s married to Will and seems happy. I don’t want to be the reason that she loses the family that she has spent the last few years building.” You felt your cheeks start to flush after your heated pronouncement, but it seemed to have the desired effect on the others. The topic was left alone for the rest of the night, and you were grateful that you didn’t receive the regular number of underhanded jabs when JJ finally made it to your house.

The new case that Garcia had brought the team thankfully kept you close to home, and you were paired with JJ to case out a possible lead. You couldn’t help but feel as if Emily had done this on purpose – she knew how big your crush was on JJ, and both her and the team enjoyed watching you blush whenever the blonde addressed you directly.

As soon as the car stopped, JJ put her arm over your torso. “I’m going to need you to be careful this time. Garcia hasn’t been able to get that much information from this unsub, which probably means he or she has more up their sleeve that we haven’t uncovered yet. It would make me feel better if you let me go in first this time.”

“Wowww, JJ, are you feeling protective over me?”

JJ didn’t answer, but something flashed in her eyes briefly before she masked it. “I just want you to be careful, okay? For me.”

You got out of the car and frowned. For me. That was not something that you were prepared to hear and was very unlike JJ. You shook your head; JJ was just being a good friend. That’s all it was, there was no way she could have meant anything besides concern.

As you approached the house, you noticed a flap of curtain fall back into place, and you made eye contact with JJ. Both of you pulled out your sidearms and approached the house. The team already knew where you were and was on route, but it didn’t seem wise to wait for backup now that you knew whoever was in the house had seen you two. As you got inside, you saw the contraption that was certain to have been the cause of death of the victims. It seemed that you were right after all – whomever was responsible lived here.

Before you had a chance to step further into the house, there was movement out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of JJ as the sound of a shotgun went off. You were barely able to register JJ returning fire before you hit the ground, and everything went dark after that.

As the team were on the way to the scene, Emily received a call from JJ. “Emily, send a bus to the house. (Y/N) is hurt real bad, she needs help as soon as possible.”

“How bad is it?”

“She’s bleeding everywhere, Em. There’s so much, I’m trying to stop it, but I don’t know if she has enough time. I can’t lose her, not like this.”

“Okay, the ambulance is on the way. Just hold on. (Y/N) is a tough girl, she’s going to make it.” Emily tried to project confidence in her voice, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful or not.

Luckily, the EMT’s were able to get you to the hospital in time for the doctors to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss was so severe that they had to induce a coma in order for you to recover. Throughout the operation, the rest of the team waited for news of your condition in the waiting room. JJ was still covered in your blood, but she couldn’t bring herself to go wash it off. Everything was answered in a short nod or a slight shake of the head, and pretty soon everyone knew to leave her in peace. It seemed like she could barely even register Will and her sons coming to visit her, but everyone knew that she was dealing with the shock of what had happened.

The most infuriating part of the whole situation was that the doctors could not give anyone a clear idea as to when you would wake up. It could be a few days, they said. Or it might take years. Nothing was for certain, and all they could do was wait and see if you made any progress.

Throughout the next few weeks, a routine set into place. JJ visited you at the hospital after work without fail. It didn’t matter how bad the weather got or how tired she was, she came in every single day and held your hand. She would talk about everything and anything that came to mind. Even though you didn’t respond, she still felt like you were there for her, and in a sense, you were. You could hear every word that she said, but it was the getting your mouth to open part that was hard.

As you stayed in your coma without any outward sign of getting better, JJ tried to get back to work and gain a new sense of normalcy. But something that she didn’t count on was that she couldn’t get you off her mind. She didn’t realize how much she missed your little jokes and pranks in the office, and girl’s night was just not the same without you there. It felt like a huge part of her was stuck in the hospital room with you.

JJ didn’t realize this, but the people around her noticed the changes in her behavior ever since you got shot. Everyone on the team felt your loss, and they tried to be there for her. However, there was only so much anyone could do when there was no update on your condition. The team learned to work with a JJ that barely looked up from her work and didn’t spend time talking to anyone. It was like they lost two team members at once, but they understood why she was like this. Will tried to be as understanding as possible, but there came a time when he needed support too. JJ was rarely ever home, and when she did come home, she barely talked. He couldn’t help but feel as if she was in a coma along with you.

March

April

May

On one of her visits to the hospital, JJ was surprised to see Emily already there. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“I just wanted to stop by and say a few things to (Y/N). I always feel as if I don’t come by as often as I should.”

“I’m sure she understands. The two of you have always been so close.”

“I know. How have you been holding up since everything?”

“I signed the divorce papers, so I guess it’s official that I’m newly single.” JJ laughed mirthlessly. “Although, I don’t see what the point of being single is at this point.”

“JJ, I know going through a divorce is hard. Especially after both you and Will have gone through so much together –”

“That’s not what I mean.” JJ’s words came out harsher than she had meant it to. “I meant that I should never have married Will in the first place. Not when there was someone right there in front of me all along.”

Emily put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. “She cared about you too.”

“I know that, Emily. But don’t you see? It’s too late for both of us. I should have realized sooner that what I was feeling for (Y/N) wasn’t just ‘friendship’ or anything of the type. I loved her, and I didn’t do anything about it. And now that I’m finally ready to confront my feelings toward her and tell her what’s been in my heart, she might never get to hear what I want to say.” Hot, angry tears came out of her eyes, but JJ didn’t care who saw her cry anymore.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t believe what you were hearing. JJ loved you after all! But she was crying right now, and you wanted to let her know that you were there to comfort her. It took all of your strength to concentrate on moving your hand a little bit, but you didn’t know if she saw the movement or not. Taking this tiny action drained all the strength from your body, and you felt yourself slipping back into the darkness.

June

July

August

September

The feeling of slipping in and out of consciousness were getting more and more frequent, and you were now sure that JJ could feel the small movements that you made whenever she was around. It felt like you were fighting against a fog every time, but you were sure that you wanted to fight your way out of it. The doctors were more hopeful that you would be able to make a recovery, but they still held off on giving an estimate on when you would actually wake up. Given the amount of time you had been out, they didn’t want to give JJ too much hope.

It was during a night when JJ came into your room to “discuss” a case when you felt the strength to try and open your eyes again. She was talking about an unsub that was murdering young women in the Tristate area, and she wanted to voice things out with you. Even though she knew that you wouldn’t respond, she felt like conclusions and ideas came easier to her whenever you were in the room.

As she was talking, you managed to fight through the fog and open your eyes. You had to shut them immediately, as even the low lights in the room were too bright for you. You tried opening your eyes again, and you managed to bring the room into focus. The first thing that you saw was JJ, and you were fairly sure that you had never seen anyone prettier than she was at this moment. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing her favorite sweater. Her legs were tucked in the chair, and she had the file placed on the table in front of her.

“So, as I said, the unsub seems to take their victim out in broad daylight. Nobody has heard any struggle as these women disappeared, and there have been no overlap in terms of witnesses. It’s frustrating because this is during the day when people are supposed to be more aware of their surroundings –“

“Are you sure this person isn’t using a lure or a trap?”

The sound of your voice seemed to have stunned JJ into silence. The way that her mouth was hanging open as she gaped at you would have been comical under any other circumstance, but you knew that she was shocked to see you awake. “Did you miss me?”

“Oh my god! You’re awake! Oh my god! How is this happening?”

“I heard your voice, and I knew I had to wake up in order to see you. And I might have heard a little bird tell me that someone was in love with me.” You gave JJ the smirk that she had made her fall in love with, and she ran over immediately to hug you. “Don’t suffocate me now, or I might not be able to wake up from this one.”

“Sorry, I just got so excited. I’ll go tell the doctor that you’re awake.”

“Hold on, not before I do this.” With a great effort, you leaned over to give JJ a quick kiss. The smile on her face made you feel like everything that you did up to this point was worth it.

The doctors were deeply impressed with the fact that you had managed to wake up after all this time. All they recommended was physical therapy for the next three months, but otherwise, you seemed healthy enough to head home.

After you had arrived at your house, you turned to JJ and reached for her hand. “So, when will I be able to take you out on a date?”

“Right after you face the welcoming party that’s waiting for you in there.” She nodded at your house, and you were pretty sure you caught Garcia peeking from behind the curtain. “They’re all very excited to see you back.”

“And I’m excited to see them too. But I want to spend time alone with you as soon as possible.”

“Are we jumping to the bedroom already, (Y/N)? How very forward of you.” JJ got out of the car and helped you out.

You gently punched JJ in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Once you got inside your house, Garcia was the first person to run over and hug you. “I’m so glad you’re back! Did you know how much I missed you? I mean, we all missed you, but I’m pretty sure I missed you the most, right next to JJ, of course.”

“I missed you too, Garcia.”

Emily made her way over, and after hugging you, said “Don’t scare us like that again, okay? I don’t think anyone would be able to go without you again.”

“Oh, she knows she’s in real trouble if she gets hurt again.” JJ came up behind you and kissed you on the cheek. Her hands moved down to your waist and stayed there as she leaned closer. “I won’t let her out of my sight from here on out.”

Luke whistled from the back of the group and yelled, “Get it, JJ!” before he was shushed by Tara, and the rest of the group snickered.

“Wait, so does that mean that the two of you, are, you know?” Garcia put two of her fingers together.

“Oh, we haven’t gotten to that part yet, but if I was a betting woman, we’re going to get there really soon.” JJ gave you a firm pat on the butt as she said this and laughed.

You were pretty sure that your face was about to light on fire, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Jennifer Jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau imagine #jj x y/n #jj x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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quickspinner · 3 years

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S4E1 Truth Reactions

Just a reminder, you can filter #quickrants if you don’t want to see this kind of thing.

So...I’m not that upset. I think I’m in the minority here, but clearly my expectations were sufficiently low and I’m really mostly okay with it. I wanted one thing out of this episode, for them to not screw up Luka’s character, and I got that.

There’s a lot of things I’m not happy about, but all indications from early on were that they were going to break the ship up way sooner than we expected, so I kind of had time to make my peace with that. I just wanted them to keep Luka’s character intact, and for him and Marinette to part on good terms so that we can HC that they get together later when they are both more mature.

The things that I didn’t like were so typical that they didn’t even bother me that much:

Literally every character they could possibly shoehorn in saying “Marinette is in love with Adrien Agreste” (however, note, that while every other character was talking about Adrien, aside from that first convo, Marinette was not)

Adrien didn’t even show up and it was all about him, from the rambly confusion in Marinette’s bedroom, to Luka saying “hey, if you’re still in love with Adrien, I’ll understand.”

Chat Noir saying he would never force a secret from Ladybug when the entire episode Siren exists. I mean, regardless of how you feel about Chat’s behavior in that episode...he was trying to force the issue. If not from Ladybug, then to get Ladybug’s secret from Plagg, all without being akumatized.

The biggest issue I have with the episode is the way they shoehorned the Couffaine family drama into it, which meant that neither plot thread got the attention it needed/deserved, and as a result, they had to skip over a lot of stuff, and the entire narrative of the episode was choppy. Would it have been that hard to have a few episodes leading up to this where we saw Marinette ditching Luka on dates, instead of cramming it all into one montage of pain? And we’re really going to go from Jagged saying that he basically ditched his family for no good reason, into Luka hugging him and letting him be the dad-comforter at the end of the ep? AND WHAT ABOUT JULEKA? Does she just not count because she’s a girl and men only care about their sons? Astruc just doubled down on the twin thing on Twitter, but we’re not even going to address that at all?

That whole thing should have been dealt with in another episode; Luka could have found out in this one, and then we could have seen him approaching Jagged as a civilian later (maybe we’ll still see this, but I don’t have any faith it will happen) to work it all out.

I admit I kinda screamed when Anarka said it, though. I didn’t think they would ever confirm it on air. The way it was handled, though, ugh. Jagged really comes off like a deadbeat jerk and then he just, what? Gets forgiven for no reason? After he wrote a song called “My Guitar Is My Only Family”????

Also, the episode as a whole was visually really ugly, and Luka really got the worst of it. Like, yikes. I don’t know why they went full on Lord of the Rings with the special effects, either, can’t you make a character look shocked without inverting the entire background? Multiple times?

Side note: can I just say how hilarious I find it that Hawkmoth repaired the peacock Miraculous with a 50 cent pin back from Joanne’s and by saying “Repair yourself!” Just...so ridiculous.

There were a lot of things I liked.

The sincerity of the movie date. Marinette may have flaked big time not remembering it, but once they actually got out together, away from other influences, they were having so much fun! Going to see a movie they knew was terrible because they both love Jagged so much! I have hearts in my eyes. They were super cute! Their lyric guessing contest! They way they were so focused on each other and having fun. Marinette’s cute way of giving him his gift for ‘winning’ the contest, and Luka using their lyric game to ask for a kiss, and having that cute little nervous look before he really went for it. I’m gonna be watching that scene like a billion times.

My heart broke for both of them when Marinette kept running off. I like that they made it clear that this was an ongoing thing. That one moment of Luka being snarky and upset that she didn’t come to the concert just hurt that much more because he’s normally so calm. It really hurt when he didn’t get excited that she finally arrived.

But what happened after that was so Luka. He didn’t get sulky and passive aggressive. He didn’t get upset with her in front of everybody. He took her somewhere private, somewhere that was important to him, and he gave her context for how he was feeling by sharing something private about himself, and he asked her as gently as possible what was going on. I think it’s telling that he made a point of letting her know that he was okay with it if she was still hung up on Adrien. All he really wanted from her was confirmation that she was committed to this relationship, because after being ditched so many times it’s natural to start questioning whether she was really ready for this, and he didn’t want to be pressuring her into something. He just wanted her to tell him the truth. I think the parallel he gave her was nice, too; not only was he sort of letting her know he maybe has some abandonment issues that are making this hard for him, he’s giving her an opening to admit that she gets overwhelmed for whatever reason and that she ditches him to go hide and collect herself. In spite of all the things he is clearly feeling, he’s so careful with her, and it shows even more when he’s fighting his akumatization. Because his feelings are that she should tell him, that she should trust him, and he’s hurt that she doesn’t, but what he says, and what his behavior backs up, is that you can’t force the truth out of people (nice callback to Silencer there, where Ladybug said something similar about forcing someone to tell the truth is meaningless). He wants to believe that Marinette trusts him and has a good reason for not telling him; he wants to believe that if he can make her feel safe enough she’ll choose to confide in him. Poor guy is just trying to understand without spilling his bad feelings all over her. That’s really the core of what I like about Luka; he’s thoughtful, respectful, and gentle, but he confronts issues head on. He did it in Silencer, he did it in Felix, he did it in Miracle Queen, each time getting right to the heart of what Marinette was having trouble saying without putting pressure on her to admit anything she wasn’t ready for her. That’s what I was really, really scared of losing in this episode and I am just over the moon that they handled it so well.

The akuma is another story, but akumas are akumas. Those where his emotions without control and I’m not upset about that. Both of Luka’s akumas were about anger and powerlessness.

I feel deeply cheated that we didn’t get any kind of scene of Luka coming back to the boat, and Anarka having to tell him again about Jagged because he doesn’t remember, but she said it in front of everyone (including Juleka) so there’s no way to keep it a secret anymore. The cut to the breakup scene on the bridge was just so abrupt, and there was so much that should have happened between that that we should have seen.

I would have liked to have seen Marinette finding him, and asking if he’s okay, and giving him a little sympathy before finally giving him the honesty he asked for. Even when she tries to say it, that she can’t give him the relationship he deserves right now (and I’m eternally grateful that she didn’t lie to him and tell him that it actually was because of Adrien), Luka makes a choice. He closes his eyes as he hugs her (which I think is significant, given the whole third-eye imagery of Truth) and he doesn’t make her say it. Honestly, I usually feel gross about using the word ‘deserved’ in relationships, but I think it’s justified here--he deserved for her to look him in the eye and tell him that she couldn’t be with him. But he didn’t make her do it. He wasn’t angry at her, and they didn’t part with bad feelings, and he was Luka right up until the end.

Maybe it’s sad that that’s as much as I felt could be reasonably hoped for in this episode, but there it is. I’m not happy, but I’m satisfied.

#quickrants #truth spoilers #spoilers #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers

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vintage-squid · 3 years

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Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together Word count: 10 363

-----

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

#anxceit #healthy anxciet #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #fae au #eros and psyche #squid scribbles

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Sweet Revenge

Oberyn Martell x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1365 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Oberyn finding himself drawn to the reader, the only legitimate child of Robert and Cersei and deciding to take her back to Dorne with him.

——————————————————————————————————

Perhaps it was revenge that motivated him, or maybe it had something to do with his own loneliness. In any case, Oberyn knew one thing to be true...he wasn’t going to return to Dorne without you on his arm.

His desire to marry you wasn’t absolute, at least, not at first.

Oberyn found himself drawn to you at first, interested in the way that you carried yourself.

You were a Lannister, he was sure of that, but it was that simple fact that interested him most. Oberyn knew about as much about the Lannisters as anyone did, and they were all the same, in his vast experience.

It didn’t matter how low or high they were, or how they’d been raised, each and every Lannister walking the planet was an arrogant, cruel liar who couldn’t be trusted, and yet, he didn’t believe that with you.

There was something different about you.

Had he known enough about your bloodline to confirm the rumors that had been heard in every corner of the seven kingdoms, he would have known why but he didn’t. Oberyn didn’t know that you were your father’s daughter, and that was the difference.

Your brothers were pure Lannister, and so was Myrcella but you had been born long before any of them. You had been born shortly after your mother and father were married, before they realized just how much they despised each other.

That had changed, of course, rather quickly but they spent just enough time together to conceive you, to your mother’s distaste. She always wanted a son, an heir to take over the kingdom so she wouldn’t have to touch Robert again.

...And she found a way around it.

It was clear to anyone close enough to observe that your siblings didn’t belong to your father, but Robert didn’t care enough to address the issue and no one else was in a position to do so.

Still, Cersei’s general refusal to acknowledge you led to your Uncle Tyrion, which could have been why Oberyn couldn’t quite place your mannerisms.

He was least familiar with the half-man, as most people were.

In any case though, as far as Oberyn was concerned, you were an oddity among these parts and he’d always fancied himself a sort of collector in that regard. The trouble came when he tried to get your attention.

The Dornishman had found himself used to people throwing themselves at him wherever he went, but he didn’t seem to have that effect on you. If anything, you seemed to be systematically avoiding him.

That just wouldn’t do.

“You astonish me, little lion” he purred, maneuvering his way over to your side in as smooth a motion as he could muster. It confused you that he would even bother, but you nodded in greeting nonetheless.

There wasn’t anything you had to say to him, and his hatred of your entire bloodline was no secret, but sitting beside you wasn’t a crime. Besides, if this man had any ill intent toward you, he wouldn't get very far with all these guards around.

He wouldn’t be allowed to kill you, he couldn’t and that wasn’t going to change in the throne room.

“Whatever for?” you responded, keeping your eyes forward as you watched the rest of the surrounding crowd. Your posture was stiff and conservative, in stark contrast to the way the dornish prince stood.

He was so relaxed, so comfortable in a place full of his enemies, with not a care in the world.

For a brief moment, you wondered what it would be like to be that free. You couldn’t help it, knowing that you’d always longed to shred the title you bore and this tight corset that bound your frame.

Your mother has spent every day since your birth trying to turn you into something other than what you were. She wanted to make you better, wanted to make you a presentable lady to one day marry off but you’d never wanted that.

The same freedom that Oberyn wore around his neck like a badge of honor was the one thing you’d always craved, and the one thing you couldn’t ever have.

“I have always hated Lannisters, and yet, when I look at your face, there is no anger in the pit of my belly” Oberyn commented now, shocking you even further with the way he spoke.

Anyone else was risking the loss of their tongue by saying something like that and yet he did so without a bat of his eye.

It confused you, but you didn’t take issue with his comment.

You had always felt more at home by your fathers side and couldn’t blame him for holding the position that he did. Since Robert’s funeral, you had felt more alone in your own home than anywhere else.

In fact, Oberyn was the first person who seemed to understand the true corruption of the Red Keep and you were grateful for that. If nothing else, it helped you feel more seen.

It was comforting in some sort of strange way. “My father would share that opinion, if he was alive” you shrugged, trying to let yourself relax a bit, in a similar fashion to what he was. It felt odd to you, and you immediately worried that someone would correct you.

However, that reprimand never came.

No one even seemed to be paying attention to what you and Oberyn were talking about, with Cersei much more focused on your brother on the throne. She couldn’t care less about what you were doing.

“A wise old man then” he joked back, that wicked smirk on his face as he thought about it. There was an obvious hesitance in his voice, proving to him that he didn’t have the same opinion of your father as you did.

Still, you found yourself uncharacteristically unmoved by his words.

You had come to terms with the things your father had done in his life and you weren’t living under any illusion about what kind of man he was. Where Oberyn was concerned, you understood.

In his youth, your father had made his fair share of enemies and done quite a lot of damage to a lot of people.

It was only fair that Oberyn get justice for his sister and her children after what had happened to them. In his position, you would have wanted the same.

~ You could have never imagined that you would have found something in common with someone from such a faraway land who you knew very little about but Oberyn was quick to prove that wrong.

As the two of you talked, you understood just how much freedom Oberyn had and you wanted nothing more in the world than to experience that. The man picked up on that as you spoke and was quick to come up with a plan.

You wanted to experience the life that he lived, and he wanted nothing more than you so there was only one way for both of you to get what you wanted.

“Come with me to Sunspear”

The offer came out of nowhere, though the way that he delivered it showed very little of the way he was actually feeling. Talking to Oberyn offered very little relief to your concerns.

Though, you weren’t going to hesitate too much.

You knew that there was nothing here for you, and if nothing else, your mother would be glad to be rid of you. You also knew that you wanted to experience life in Dorne.

It would give you a chance to visit Myrcella where she was living and it didn’t hurt that the prince was offering to accompany you himself. Only someone completely out of their mind would pass that up.

“With you? You’re suggesting that I leave my home to travel with a complete stranger” you clarified, noting that he must have been a complete madman.

...But you may have been much more mad for actually considering what he was offering.

In doing so, you would be giving Oberyn everything he was looking for, a beautiful travel companion and the sweetest revenge he could ever have against your family.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x ps reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x plus size reader #oberyn martell imagine #got #got x ps reader #got x reader #got x plus size reader #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x ps reader #game of thrones x plus size reader #game of thrones imagine

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saphirered · 3 years

Text

Fight For Dessert?

And here it finally is, part two to the last Essek x Eldritch Knight reader request.

A walk through the streets of Rosohna did you good but Essek was still refusing to let you go anywhere isolated with him without supervision besides his home or the Xhorhaus after the whole ordeal with the Volstruckers. The presence of the Aurora Watch brought him more comfort than it ever had done. Not for himself but the sense of security that you wouldn’t be alone if trouble found you.

The two of you walk or float perhaps a little bit closer than may be socially acceptable but neither of you seem aware or care enough. A guard of the Aurora Watch rushes over to you a little out of breath and gives a short bow to both you and Essek.

“What is it?” Essek asks in a tone befitting of the Shadowhand, demeanour changing to a more cold and distant one at the approach of the guard.

“A message for you Shadowhand. And one for the Knight.” The guard holds out two delicate envelopes stamped with a deep purple seal, names written in beautiful cursive. You take the one addressed to you with a confused look and can see a hint of annoyance from Essek.

“You may go now.” Essek dismisses the guard who keeps waiting.

“My apologies, Shadowhand. I was instructed to await your answers.” The guard looks to the envelopes. Essek takes his and opens it as well reading it. His expression does not change.

‘You have been graciously invited to attend a formal dinner in your honour at the estate of Den Thelyss tonight.’

“Essek?” You give him a glance allowing him to see the invitation. Essek shows you his invitation too. His has and additional note; ‘bring your friend’. You see Essek lift his chin with a deep sigh giving the guard a bit of a glare.

“Please tell my mother-“ Seeing where this is going you cut him off.

“-that we accept her gracious invitation, isn’t that right, Essek.” You would have stepped on his foot to shut him up if he weren’t floating. Essek gives you a surprised look as the guard nods, excuses himself and hurries off.

“Why would you…” Essek doesn’t finish the question.

“Because even I know you simply do not refuse an invite from nobility let alone a Denmother, your mother no less.” He can’t deny. You have a point.

So there you are, dressed in the fanciest clothes gold could buy in such a short period of time, courtesy of Jester and her impeccable taste. The fine silks in hues of purple, dark blues, black and silver made you stand out in the crowd for sure if it weren’t the design itself, like it was made for you. Many garments were tried on. None but this passed Jester’s approval. Luckily for you the outfit wasn’t so heavy or tight you couldn’t even lift your arms, or would feel like you were carrying both Fjord and Caduceus on your back. You had your full range of motion and a perfect fit.

Essek escorted you to the estate which is every bit as grand and impressive as you expected it to be. You’re a bit on edge and nervous. It’s not every day one gets such an invitation, let alone one by the family your ‘friend’ belongs to.

“You are calmer ahead of battle than you are attending dinner. I do not think I have ever seen you this on edge.” Essek couldn’t keep his observation to himself. It’s quite a funny one in his eyes. You’d be prepared to walk into a moorbounder nest no hesitation and no fear yet a social gathering is enough to nearly throw you off your feet and have you panic.

“Don’t laugh! Not all of us have spent our lives making friends with the leaders of nations.” He stops, you with him and turns to you.

“And yet I doubt that’s what unnerves you so.” He places his hands on your shoulders as you take a deep breath.

“What if she doesn’t like me? Or if she doesn’t approve your blatant admiration of me?” You manage to lighten the mood with your last question.

“If my mother didn’t approve of you she would never have invited both of us to dinner. As for my ‘blatant admiration of you’, as you put it, I think it is more than deserved after everything.” Essek looks around seeing no one but the guards in front of the estate and pulls you into his embrace.

“You’ll do perfectly. My mother will love you just as much as I.” He speaks as you return the hug. Pulling apart he offers his arm and the two of you make your way through the gates.

“You’re biased.” You whisper as the guards open the doors for the two of you.

“I am. So what?” You scoff at the wizard’s answer as you enter Essek’s childhood home.

Worked stone, stained glass windows and geometric designs make up the majority of the structure. It’s quite beautiful and comes close to what you expect a private palace might look like. Though, you didn’t expect any less from one of the most prominent and well respected Dens in the Dynasty. Your eyes wander taking in the beautiful art work displayed within the foyer alone. You can’t begin to imagine what the rest of the building looks like.

Walking down the stairs as the servants take your and Essek’s cloaks, is the Denmother herself in all her glory. You can see the family resemblance and are taken aback by the sheer presence the woman radiates. Sensing you panic as you resist the urge to gulp Essek pats your arm leading you forward.

You take a deep breath. For the first time you feel like the roles are reversed, Essek being your support and saviour when you’re in need instead of the other way around. He keeps you grounded. You squeeze his arm linked through yours in a quick thank you.

It’s no different from a battle. Except your sword has been exchanged for your wit and your words are your weapon and shield. The strategy remains. You can do this. You got this. The words echo in your head only to realise Essek whispered them. You nod. You got this.

Essek and you meet Deirta at the bottom of the stairs. You offer a brief bow in respect, returned with a bow of the head and a smile.

“Welcome. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. My son speaks very highly of you. I am Deirta Thelyss.” Deirta takes the lead, you and Essek following into the dining room.

A large table enough to fit half the court alone, houses only four chairs, one at the head, two on one side and a single one at the other. The table is set for four, plates, cutlery, beautiful glasses and everything. Leaning on one of the chairs is a handsome drow, dressed appropriately for the dinner bearing the vestiges of a Taskhand, or at least so you’ve been told. This drow, while elvish age might be more difficult to pinpoint seems to be a bit younger than Essek and shares similar features. A sibling perhaps? Essek doesn’t really talk about his family much.

Essek guides you along to the two chairs next to each other, one of which the other man is leaning on. The man raises to a more proper stature and bows to you.

“My, my, you must be my dear brother’s heroic saviour. Taskhand Verin Thelyss. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Verin pulls out the chair next to the one he was leaning on and offers it to you. You unlink your arm from Essek’s and take a seat thanking the Taskhand. Before Verin can, Essek takes the seat next to you at the right hand of the Denmother. Verin sends him a glare but Essek looks on innocently. Sibling rivalry? You’ll never let him hear the end if this goes on.

“Don’t look so glum, Verin. It doesn’t suit you.” You raise an eyebrow at Essek’s comment as Verin takes the seat opposite of his brother and Deirta takes hers.

“And pomposity suits you perfectly brother.” Verin raises his glass.

“Children. No bickering at my table. We have a guest.” Deirta smiles at you as servants fill your glasses and uncover the plates set out in front of you to reveal a delicious looking meal.

“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m grateful you were able to accept my invitation on such short notice. When my son speaks about your exploits he tends to leave out the mortal danger of it all and I have to learn from others the details of the risk you put yourself at to keep him safe. You have my eternal gratitude.” Deirta places a hand over her heart.

“You talk about me?” You give Essek a look and can just see the tiniest of blushes creep on his face for just a second as he tries to repress it.

“Gushes on about you really, singing your praises. ‘Such an intelligence, a fast learner, strong and clever’. It never ends.” Essek glares at Verin as you lean into the arm of your chair giving him an ‘oh really’ look waiting for him to come up with some clever comment or witty remark in return to deflect from the fact he’s not been subtile about his affections towards you around his family.

“I only shared my conclusions based on the information and evidence provided to me first hand.”

“I believe that’s what us common folk would call ‘an opinion’, darling.” You laugh amused by the whole situation. You earned a snort from Verin with your comment. Deirta looks between the three of you before turning her attention back to you directly.

“I heard you had gotten rather seriously injured. I hope you’ve recovered well enough?” Deirta asks.

“I have thanks to my rather talented healer friends. Though if it were not for Essek’s quick response getting them, things may have played out very differently.” You praise the wizard next to you trying to put him a bit more at ease and give him something to return fire if he has to against his brother, letting him know you have his side still. Esseks gives you a thankful smile.

“So you’re recovered then?” Verin’s expression turns a bit more mischievous and you can see Deirta giving him a scolding look.

“I am according to my clerics, though I feel they held off on my release from bedrest and confinement to the house for several days. It’s good to be out and about again. I’ve missed it, even though the company has been good I definitely missed being allowed to swing a sword and throw a proper punch.” Verin’s smile grows.

“Since you’re good to fight again, how about you show me what you’re made off? How much of my brother’s opinions prove true?”

“Verin.” Both Essek and Deirta warn each for different reasons.

“Oh come on, I’m merely joking. Unless you’d take me up on the offer of course.” Verin gives you an innocent look you’ve seen so many times on Essek. Plausible deniability apparently runs in the family.

You lean your elbows on the table, clasping your hands together. Essek mutters an ‘oh no’ under his breath and takes a big gulp from his drink as you grin.

“You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight.” You wink.

“Verin need I remind you of your manners. We do not challenge guests to a fight over dinner.” Deirta scolds her son.

“It’s just a bit of fun, mother.” Verin complains and where he not presenting himself as a renowned official and the person he is, it might have sounded like the plea of a child being told no.

“I would not wish to overstep any boundaries and forgo all rules of social engagement. Nor do I wish to ruin a perfectly pleasant evening, Denmother. Perhaps another time, Verin?” You earn the Denmother’s approval as she says something to Verin in Undercommon you do not understand but by the tone of her voice alone and Verin’s response you can tell it’s probably not positive.

Essek sighs deeply next to you pinching the bridge of his nose as Deirta and Verin continue their argument.

“Oh for the love of… Can you two please cease this useless fight. I’d much rather see Verin being put in his place than listen to this endless argument one more second. Thank you.” The two of them slowly quiet down when Essek speaks up. Verin gets up from his chair.

“It’s settled then, we’re all in agreement.”

“We are not all in agreement but to cease this argument, very well. You have my permission.” Deirta concedes despite all better efforts.

“If you wish to take my son up on this fight you have my permission.”

Before you know it you’re outside in what you can assume is Den Thelyss’ private gardens. It’s simple and large enough of an open space to not break anything in the near vicinity should things get ugly. Both of you drop the heavier and unnecessary layers of your outfits. You’re pulled aside by Essek before you walk into the fighting ring.

“Not that I do not have full confidence you’ll win, but please do not get injured or I fear I might find my next cup of tea poisoned or my books desecrated.” Essek worries taking hold of your hands giving them a brief squeeze.

“I’ll do my best to protect your precious books and keep any attempts of poisoning at bay. Now please excuse me while I go kick your brother’s ass.” You pat his cheek as you step back and into the makeshift fighting ring. Verin offers you a sword but you don’t take it.

“I’ve brought my own.” You summon your trusty sword and earn a nod of approval from the drow.

“Nice trick.” The moment you’re ready Verin swings at you but you’ve lived this long thanks to your reflexes and step to the side with ease. You tap the blade of your sword against his to inch it out of your way as you go for a high strike giving Verin enough time to counter block.

This isn’t a fight to the death and you’re not deliberately trying to seriously injure your opponent so you both hold back but you do get a glimpse of the soldier within Verin and see where he gets his reputation from. It’s earned. The ‘dance’ between you and Verin continues until it gets more competitive and the both of you come to a nonverbal understanding to find out who’s going to be the clear winner here.

Verin summons his echo letting it come at you while putting some distance between you and him to give him the advantage. You’re quick to respond with a lightning lure. A satisfying grin visible as you pull Verin back within your range. You deflect a blow from the echo while kicking Verin’s wrist preventing his sword from striking you. Bringing your own sword around you cut the echo in half, turning it to wisps of shadow. You strike back with a hit directed at Verin. He dodges and comes around with a hit you use your blade to parry. Another echo comes in play but you pay it no mind having had enough of this back and forth. You grab the blade of Verin’s sword, not nearly tight enough to pierce your skin but just enough to hold it in place, drop your own sword and reach into your component pouch.

You speak the familiar words and release the gold dust you re-summon your sword back to your hand and point it at Verin’s chest. Verin tries to pull the sword from the air but is unable to move it.

“Do you concede?” Verin holds up his hands in surrender but you notice a glint in his eye. He quickly moves around the other side of the sword frozen in the air kicking at your leg. You toss your sword to the side, punch once to break his defence and another directly to the chest. Verin’s breath hitches and you kick his legs from under him. He groans, the air is knocked out of him as he lands on his back. You put your foot on his chest standing over him. He grabs it purely by instinct but loosens his grip quickly.

“Very well. I concede.” Verin speaks out of breath. You remove your foot and offer him a hand pulling him back to his feet. From the stairs you hear a slow clap. Both of you look over to see Deirta standing next to an amused Essek.

“Impressive. My son’s words have proven true. You have my approval.” The Denmother speaks rather indifferently but offers a smile no less before retreating back inside.

“Perhaps one day we might fight side by side. I look forward to seeing you around more often.” Verin slaps a hand on your shoulder before he wanders off to clean up. Essek joins you, the two of you left alone in the gardens outside the building.

“What just happened?” You ask confused about how you just gained the approval and respect of Verin and Deirta Thelyss.

“They saw exactly why you have my affection.” You bump into Essek’s shoulder in a ‘shut up’ and he offers you a genuine smile.

“I am that great, aren’t I?” You joke as the two of you begin making your way back inside. You’re still processing unsure of how to take and handle all of this. This was unexpected to say the least.

“And I’ve told you many times. I don’t plan to stop doing so either.” You give him a little side hug as you look around the abandoned remains of dinner being cleared off the table by the servants.

“Is this how fancy dinners always go?”

“Certainly not. Though, I can say watching my brother be put in his place certainly has been the highlight of my day, second to you showing off.” You both laugh as you’re ready to head back leaving the Thelyss estate behind you. Perhaps it’ll become a place you’ll visit more often. Though you’ll still always prefer the towers. And feeling some bruises form already, you have some books to protect from the wrath of a doodling tiefling.

#essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #mighty nein x reader #critical role x reader #critrole x reader

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

Text

Falling Together Part I

Author’s Note: After receiving such kind words from Tall Tale, I had another idea that I ran with. There will be a part two, so if you want to be added to the tag list for this as well as future works to come, please let me know.

Summary: You enter into an arranged marriage with Ivar, a marriage of convenience, but can you both come together to make it more?

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Language, mild angst

"You need to fuck your wife, brother."

Those were the words that came out of Hvitserk's mouth after they had been sitting in silence. How he longed for better advice from Ubbe, but his eldest brother remained back in Kattegat with Torvi. They had parted as equals, peace finally coming to the sons of Ragnar. For Ivar, Kattegat held only pain and misery, so he had taken to the sea with a handful of ships and a map to Ireland, and once again Hvitserk had chosen to remain at his side. He didn't know what inspired such loyalty from his brother, but he was grateful for his company, most days. Today was not one of them.

"Are you listening, Ivar? I said--"

"Yes, I heard you," Ivar interjected before he could repeat himself. "I'm just choosing to ignore your advice."

Hvitserk shrugged as he pulled meat off of a chicken bone with his teeth. "Alright, but you know I'm right. She's going to want someone to warm her bed eventually, and she won't wait around for it to be you."

"Christian women don't like sex," Ivar said with a huff.

"Not the ones I've been with," Hvitserk said, smirking around a mouthful of meat. "They don't like sex with devout Christian men, but we are not such men."

Ivar frowned into his mug of ale as he thought about you. You were his wife in name only, an alliance forged with your father for lands in the first few weeks they had arrived in Ireland. The wedding had been small, in accordance with Viking tradition, not Christian. You weren't as devout as the Saxons of England, but you had insisted on keeping your cross.

There was no love in your marriage. At first you had appeared hopeful if not reluctant to be sharing in this union, but as many moons had passed, you'd begun to realize you were alone in your efforts. Ivar didn't hate you, even if you were a Christian, but he did not want to be in love again, not after Freydis. She was everything he had ever wanted, and she had betrayed him.

"Why the sudden interest in what goes on in my marriage?" Ivar said, setting down his mug as he watched Hvitserk.

"I'm sure King Conall will be starting to wonder about grandchildren soon," said Hvitserk, leaning back in his chair. "And you have a pretty wife. Others have taken notice already, and she might start to consider picking one. Women don't like to be lonely."

Ivar scowled, hating the apprehension his brother's words stirred up. "She is free to take a lover if she wishes." His voice wavered. Even he didn't believe himself.

"You have changed, Ivar, but not enough that I don't believe you wouldn't kill the man she was with."

Hvitserk wasn't wrong. He still lacked self-confidence as far as women were concerned, and he would take it as a personal slight if you humped some lesser warrior in his army. You never voiced any discontent in his presence, and Ivar was sure he would notice any man becoming too enamored with you.

He rose from his throne, a sudden need to get away from the doubts that the turn in conversation had brought up. Hvitserk looked at him with a grin while folding his arms back behind his head.

"Going to take care of your wife?"

"Be silent," Ivar grumbled. "My marriage is a solid alliance. There's nothing that needs fixing."

"If it's as you say, then forget what I said," said Hvitserk, returning his attention to his plate of food.

Ivar growled as he started for his chambers. He hated not getting the last word in, but nothing he could have said would've proven Hvitserk wrong. Truthfully, he knew little about you or how you spent your days. When he was preoccupied with the duties of ruling, you were off amongst the people, though not without a guard. Ivar was surprised that you had taken an active role in being Queen. Freydis never had, nor had his mother. Your father was a great King, and you must have studied under his exemplary tutelage.

His crutch ticked down the corridor with each slow step, the damp causing his legs to stiffen. Ireland was greener than Norway, but the warmth of the sun would disappear for days behind a wall of grey cloud that brought heavy rain. The long torrents left him miserable with agony, something he fought to conceal from his men.

He leaned on the door as he came into his room, the fire low since the last time it had been tended to by a slave. The bed was empty. This had remained the same since the wedding night. There was a smaller room attached to his main chambers, meant to be used for any future children you birthed. Instead it had become your own personal wing, with no one growing wise to the fact that you slept away from your marital bed.

Ivar slept better alone. The space allowed for him to shift about if the pain became unbearable. Tonight was different. He couldn't keep his eyes from the door to your chamber, even as he eased himself down onto the furs. Reaching for his crutch, he rose again, letting out a low hiss as he forced his body forward. Just one peek would be enough to satisfy him.

Ivar doubted you'd bring any man to your room, as it meant you'd have to drag them past his bed first. Hvitserk's comments had burrowed into his head however, and he needed to be sure. He eased his way through the door, and took a step into your space for the first time. It was a smaller room, not meant to be used as sleeping quarters for an adult, but you had made it into something personal. There was no hearth for a fire. You kept warm under a pile of furs, twice as thick as he needed. There you slept in the middle of the small bed, unaware as he watched this private moment of solitude.

You didn't appear to be in despair. A ghost of a smile sat on your lips. It was a look Ivar was familiar with, even if he hadn't been on the receiving side of it for some time. At first you had tried to smile for him, all attempts to forge a bond with your new husband. He didn't know when you had stopped trying, but now it was a smile you only reserved for others. You never referred to him by name anymore either. It was always 'My King' or 'My Lord', the latter of which he detested.

He breathed a sigh. This was not how he imagined his life would turn when he set out to new lands. There was still the desire to grow his father's legacy, and thus far his Kingship in Ireland was progressing much better than it had in Kattegat. He had been driven by blind ambition and false beliefs that he was anything other than a crippled mortal. The loss was humbling, and even with his new found success he refused to rest on his laurels.

Now that his curiosity was satisfied, he pivoted back towards the door to leave. The thin light coming from the fire in his room illuminated the table beside your bed where you kept your cross. There was something else there as well, a small thing that stopped Ivar in his place. It was a hammer of Thor, whittled from wood and tied to a piece of twine. The craftsmanship was poor, but the meaning of it was something else entirely. Someone had gifted it to you, and you had kept it in a place within reach.

He wanted to inspect it further, maybe even take it back to burn it in his hearth, but he wouldn't risk Thor's wrath, or the chance that you could wake up. Hvitserk's warning about you taking a lover came back with a vengeance and had his stomach feeling like it was filled with rocks. He would have to sleep with this knowledge until he could question you about it, a conversation he did not desire to have. How to broach it would be more difficult still, and combined with the pain in his legs, Ivar found no rest that night.

ooOOoo

Ivar was behaving strangely. Your father had come to visit, which meant there was an unspoken agreement between you and your husband to behave cordially. You had done so many times when the situation called for you both to act as united rulers, but the efforts on your husband's part had never felt this...forced.

During the feast his hand kept pawing for yours beneath the table until you gave up and let him cling to your limp fingers. He was attentive, patient, and even addressed you by name. You concealed your frown as best you could between bites of food. One glance down the table at Hvitserk and you understood that he was perplexed by Ivar's behavior as well. It pleased your father to witness such fondness from your husband towards you, and that had you holding your tongue. You would give your King an earful later.

"Daughter," Your father said, raising his arms to embrace you after you had managed to pry out of Ivar's iron grasp. "You are a smart match together, I am glad you are happy."

"Thank you, father," You whispered into his ear before parting.

"Might I see a grandchild soon?"

You flushed from what looked like embarrassment, but was actually shame. It was a constant hurt inside you, that you had failed to be desirable to your husband.

"Maybe, if we are blessed," You said evenly.

"I'm sure you will be. This is a successful alliance, and I have no doubt your union will be fruitful. We have a son of Ragnar on our side, that is no small thing, but remember you are my daughter, and you will always have a place in my court."

He placed his large hands over your shoulders, as he often did when you were a small child. His cheeks were flushed as red as his beard from drinking, and a merry grin was upon his lips. It had just been you and him for so long, after your mother had passed from sickness a lifetime before. You used to think you could tell your father everything, but now that you were a Queen, your loyalties had shifted to protect your husband and the integrity of your new settlement.

With your practiced smile and a reassuring hand upon his arm, you eased whatever burdens he felt for giving you away to heathens. "I am well father, and my place is here with my people."

"Then I shall depart, and leave you with your husband."

"Hvitserk," You called, and he stood with uncoordinated abruptness. "Please escort my father and his men to the gates."

He seemed to understand your true intentions, shooting you a nod to confirm. You had grown fond of your brother-in-law in a short time, and had come to see him as someone you could rely on. He had no qualms about answering anything you wanted to know. If you had asked, he would have spilled every secret about Ivar as well, but you had refrained from going down that path. You would rather get the truth from the horse's mouth as it were, and now you were about to be alone with him.

Ivar's eyes did not lose the mischief behind them. They were cold blue, like the winters of his home you thought. But the patient smile you had been rewarded with at dinner had vanished, replaced with something shrewd.

"What are you playing at, husband?" You stressed the word as you steeled your stance against him.

"I'm not sure I understand, (Y/N). It is a husband's duty to dote upon his wife as he sees fit," He remarked while his hands gripped tight to the armrests of his throne.

"You can stop pretending now that we are alone. Lord knows I have," You mumbled the last bit, but Ivar had heard. Maybe you had wanted him to.

"Come sit, and talk with me," He said, indicating to your throne next to his.

The seriousness of the request left you with little choice, and you gathered up your skirts while keeping your head high as you made your way beside him. There was a constant cloud of anger that seemed to follow your husband wherever he went, but you didn't think he would hurt you. Sometimes when he would look at you, a wave of sadness would fall over his face, and it was as if he was seeing through you to something else.

"What do you wish to speak of, My Lord?"

Ivar winced, but he recovered by bringing his hand down on top of yours. This again. You kept your hand still as he laced your fingers together, the roughness of his palm stroking against your soft one.

"Are you happy here?" He asked, and the hesitation in the question was tangible.

"Yes. The people are content, and the settlement is thriving."

"That's not what I asked." His tone was curt and to the point. It seemed he wanted to discuss the nature of your marriage, but the timing of it was mysterious to you. "I know the people talk of an heir, as I'm sure your father also mentioned."

"The people will always talk, My Lord. All you have to do is listen and decide what's worth hearing," You said, feeling your fingers start to tingle as his grip held firm. "As for my father, he is as any old King would be. Anticipating a grandchild so that he can pass from this world knowing his blood will live on."

His brow was furrowed into a frown. "When we are alone, call me Ivar."

"Alright...Ivar," You said, sampling the feel of his name on your tongue. You hadn't addressed him as such since your wedding.

"If we had a child, would that make you happy?"

His eyes were downcast as he spoke, which you were glad for, as he didn't see how his words had embarrassed you.

"I never said I was unhappy," You remarked. "And I don't think a child is something we are ready for yet."

"Because we are not in love," He sighed.

"Well, yes and no. I always knew I would marry a stranger with whom I wouldn't be in love. But marriage is a tool to strengthen kingdoms, and spread prosperity to its people. If you have that, you don't need love."

His eyes scrutinized you with something indiscernible, and he let go of your hand. You thought that perhaps your words had hurt him, but you didn't know why. When you had first been brought forth by your father to meet with Ivar, you had thought he was handsome. Perhaps a bit too quick to act in anger, as you had witnessed during the meeting, but you had hoped he was a man you would grow to love. Months later, and you were sleeping in separate beds with your virtue still intact, so it frustrated you to see him be upset by what you had said.

"Is that why you accept gifts from other men," His tone was harsh, and you thought he hated you then by the dark look in his eyes.

You jumped up from your throne, and rounded on him with fury. This marriage had insulted you long enough. "What are you accusing me of?"

He searched for something just beneath the collar of his tunic, and what he showed you was the hammer pendant of one of his Gods that hung from his neck. "I know you have one. Which man gave it to you? I will not have my reign tarnished by a whore Queen, not again."

Your stomach burned from the insult, and much of what he said you did not understand. His insinuation had stung, and you had little care for finding out about what he meant by 'again'.

You pulled the small bracelet out of the sleeve of your dress. The twine was too short to be a necklace, but you wore it all the same because it was special to you.

"You mean this I presume. How you came to discover it, I can only assume you have entered my chambers without my consent."

"I'm your husband, and King, I don't need your consent," He shot back.

"Then let me tell you about the man who gifted it to me one day while I walked the market. His name is Einarr, a son of one of your warriors. He is eight years old, not even old enough to have an armring yet."

You took a small bit of satisfaction to see him struggle to retort. Whatever argument and claims he had built up against you in his head disappeared after your explanation. He sunk back in his throne, and you were pleased to see he had the humility to look guilty.

"Then why keep it hidden?"

"It's special to me, proof that even as a foreign Queen to your people, I can be respected. We haven't established a relationship to share such things," You exclaimed, everything that you had been holding back spilling out in an instant. It took a deep breath to calm yourself, to bring you back to the matters at hand. "I think we should stop...for now. Our alliance has thrived by us acting separately, and perhaps that is how it should stay."

"I regret the things I've said," Ivar hurried to say, his voice now thin from weariness.

It was a small comfort, and you both knew it. "If there is nothing else, My Lord, I should like to retire?"

There was nothing he could have said in that moment that could have kept you there and not made you resentful, so with a wave of his hand, he dismissed you.

When you were far enough away, you let your shoulders sag, and let out a quiet sigh of defeat. Despite how he had hurt you with his words, neither of you walked away the victor. The hill to surmount in your marriage had just become a mountain, and you weren't certain it could ever be conquered. Judging by the crashing and shouting coming from the Great Hall, Ivar's black mood had returned. Maybe he felt the same. You held the small wooden hammer in your hand all the way back to your chambers, praying to any God that would listen to guide you on your way to mending your marriage before it was too late.

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#vikings #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings imagine #ivar fic #history vikings #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar angst

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