#like the absolute relief at realizing i can still draw stuff okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withered--s0uls · 1 month

Text

OKAY, I think I'm done for now.

@electrozeistyking and I a little while ago talked about how GD!N would react to DAS!Cyn. They went on about in a reblog but basically he would be extremely happy bc DAS!Cyn is a separate entity to the Absolute Solver, therefore meaning she's not the one behind everything.

So at first they probably both would be extremely happy. DAS!Cyn in her own AU upon meeting N first is absolutely terrified that he might hate her after everything the AS made her do. So the fact GD!N would react very positively to her presence would be a huge a relief to her.

Now, the issue is that the "Dormant" in "Dormant" Absolute Solver is in quotations for a reason. It simply lost interest in her as a main host / had no need for her anymore. It still has admin rights over DAS!Cyn and she still has a Solver Form. Though she doesn't use it by choice bc of PTSD triggers (until possibly a specific point in Ep7 but I'm waiting for ep8 to decide).

So yeah I think that would make both GD!N and DAS!Cyn kinda anxious to put it lightly.

(More Art and stuff under cut because this crossover has been living RENT FREE IN MY HEAD)

Also fun fact

@electrozeistyking has mentioned and shown Beanie finding comfort in the sound of her fathers core.

Well funny story.

DAS!Cyn always was comforted by her brothers core back at the manor, when they first reuite at the start of Ep6 and she sees DAS!Uzi summon her Solver wings and tail, her instinct is pressing closer to DAS!Ns chest for comfort. Her memories of the Solver features are very very blurry, but she is triggered by seeing them regardless.

I thought It was cute the girls have that in common, so I decided to draw them and GD!N sleeping with the girls having their heads close to his core :3

OKAY FINALLY WE GET TO THE DOODLE PAGE

I didn't feel like fully making these so they're sketchy doodles :"

The first two are based on Zeisty saying GD!N would probably pick DAS!Cyn up and spin her around. Also you probably noticed between this doodle, the first drawing & the Tiny!N & DAS crossover post, but DAS!Cyn displays flowers on her visor to emote happiness!

The 3rd and 4th are just random interactions between the kiddos lol. I feel like Beanie probably would be happy to have another Auntie, not to mention one closer to her age so they can do silly kid stuff together. DAS!Cyn... oh boy

She would feel a whole range of emotions; grief about missing so much of her brothers life (like he has a kid ffs), guilt and self blame after finding out what happened to Uzi (she blames herself for everything the AS caused, even tho she never agreed to it) which might end up in a "slight" breakdown, anger at the AS for causing GD!N that kind of pain and eventually once she processed all those emotions she probably would be excited to get to know Beanie. Like!! Imagine finding out you have a little Niece!!

She probably would struggle to easily keep up with Beanie bc she still has motor issues like in canonverse so she's a little slower, so it'd be mostly her trying not to fall over her own feet whilst being dragged around by an excited toddler who probably even with child lock is stronger than her lmao.

Also I drew DAS!Cyn in an alternate outfit bc I wanted to actually kinda show the oil reserve canister,,,

Ok wanting to respond to the hashtags specifically bc :)) yay

Also ig this is some DAS lore fact drops lol

Yeah, DAS!Cyn kinda didn't take it well either when she first realized the AS technically can still take over if it really wanted to after she transferred bodies in an attempt to escape. Imagine getting your core nearly crushed in an attempt to flee from robo satan just to find out entity STILL can use you for their bidding. Like!!! Damn that's not fair the kid nearly fucking died trying to break free!!!

DAS!Cyn definitely would want to spare Beanie the horrors too. DAS!Cyn herself is mentally like 7-10/11 at best 6-9 at worst -- despite kids usually just saying whatever comes to mind, she repressed most AS related stuff for a reason, she definitely wouldn't share what she knows with her newfound niece

I feel things would be either super great and happy or super traumatizing depending on when in the timeline we throw DAS!Cyn at them. If she's there during ep 6-7? Oh boy. Oh no. DAS!Cyn & DAS!N have an exchange during Ep7 that would not go over so well if it was GD!N in DAS!Ns place, because it would be awfully similar to GD!Uzis death -- she doesn't die, because DAS!N can't get himself to shoot with her being so close to the AS, despite her literally shouting at him to do it and that she won't be angry, that'll be fine. -- yeah I don't think GD!N would handle that well 😭 Zeisty feel free to get the angst train rolling if you wanna add your two cents on how that'd go over -- any point before that? Probably fine. Post S1? I'd imagine also fine depending on what Ep8 throws at us (except like... look at ideas list for more info*)

I'll assume that'd be Beanie reacting to seeing DAS!Cyn having the Solver tail and possibly the glitching Solver symbol in her visor. Yeah she definitely would try to play it off and go try and hide somewhere until she can get it under control again. High stress or negative emotions causes her Solver to act up (unrelated to the AS, just her own Solver form without the entity controlling anything!!) So what I said above to her reaction to the news of GD!Uzi being dead? And possibly finding out the reason why? Yeah that might trigger her tail and wings to pop out and her to basically be reduced to a hyperventilating ball on the floor because of proceeding to blame herself for all of GD!Ns suffering due to thinking the AS actions & it being a danger are her fault

Other things I kinda wanted to doodle but didn't for now, might do at a later point;

Cyn still has a Solver Core, which is the same as a DD core (except smaller lol). So I was playing with the idea of Beanie noticing that her core sounds different from GD!Ns due to hers being severely damaged and actively leaking after the AS attempted to crush it during the body transfer. DAS!Cyn then trying to play it off

Some kind of acknowledgement of the Oil reserve canister on DAS!Cyns back, it was made by Tessa before the AS did the medurder and stuff. It's supposed to help keep the Solver in check by preventing overheating, hence why its directly connected to her chest where her core is

There was something else but it slipped my mind

Smth I'm not gonna say publicly for now until Zeisty posts something about it and/or eventually posts the chapters bc I don't want to spoil esp not bc it isn't my place to :" (if you're curious, Zeisty, lmk I can tell you in VC or DMs lol) but it partly would possibly be related to the 1st idea listed

* I have an idea for what happens to Cyns original body (the one the AS uses & that wears Tessa) post Ep8 IF Ep8 let's me do it that is. I think it could be fun to crossover that idea bc of GD!Ns ghost sight.... tho it definitely also would be fucking stressful and trauma inducing bc Solver stuff sooo yeah rip (again, if you want I could elaborate in vc or DMs on this bc I want to first wait and see what the season finale brings before I do anything "official" with this)

GD!N reacting to the information that DAS!Cyn canonly shot "Tessas" gun at the AS (well technically at its tentacles. Point being that kid fired a gun/knows how to use one) -- which again could be very interesting if we were to toss them into the same Ep7 bc that's when she does it

Possibly GD!N finding out ab the scars/cracks surrounding DAS!Cyns core bc,,, yeah

Anyways uuuhh heightbsheet bc I'm 99% sure I drew stuff inaccurate

These were actually so fun to draw and think & talk about. I'll post the GD x IC crossover once I'm done with that (yes, yes there is more than what you already saw Zeisty. Not much more but more nonetheless)

77 notes · View notes

magpiing · 2 years

Text

drawing with a pencil after painting for 2 hours makes me feel like those people whove been at sea and when they finally get to land they kiss the ground

#the solidness of a pencil i missed u so #and #like the absolute relief at realizing i can still draw stuff okay #bc when im painting i feel utterly lost sobs #im so out of shape.. need to paint traditionally more #so many things to improve so little time..#magpi rambles

22 notes · View notes

whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

#2222 words because that's how i get my kicks n' giggles hue hue hue hue #will there be a part three? who knows #better question is Should there be a part three amirite?#my words.

434 notes · View notes

gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

Master of His Own Fate-2

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader, dark!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, jealousy, spanking, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Probably gonna be a four-part series.

Part 1

MASTERLIST

+++++

Why did it feel like everyone had to do their shopping exactly when you had to? You’d bet it was not this crowed earlier. Or maybe it had something to do with the two super-soldiers flanking you that drew people in. You should have just ordered stuff online since this was super embarrassing. Steve’s hand was in the back pocket of your jeans and Bucky was on your other side, pushing the shopping cart with one hand while holding your waist with other. You’re sure you must have made quite a picture, a little woman sandwiched between them.

“Can you remove your hand?” You asked Steve under your breath and he looked away from the cereals he was perusing to glance at you.

“No” He answered and then pinched your ass for good measure. You jumped, your face flushing and you vowed to look at the floor until you left. You had no desire to see what other people thought about you.

“Why are they so colourful? Why can’t it be simple? There are too many!” Bucky exclaimed and you almost snorted. The cereal aisle was like wonderland for Bucky and you’d been walking back and forth here for 10 minutes now.

“I’m gonna go with this” Steve said throwing in a pack of Cap’n Crunch and you rolled your eyes.

“Then maybe Bucky can get Frosted Flakes and we can leave?” You suggested. Steve chuckled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss on your head while Bucky took your advice and got Frosted Flakes.

“I’m gonna eat them off of you” He muttered in your ear and you bit your lip, flushing dark. You let them lead you around the store, checking off items off their list. It was so domestic you felt sick. This was not normal, and you unconsciously kept scratching your soulmark hidden under a wristband. You tried not to look at it if at all possible.

Bucky had stopped in front of the shelves containing condoms and quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He asked with a sinful grin and you wiggled until free of their holds. You had to bear their presence at home anyway, anymore and you’ll be smothered.

“We’ve forgotten the cheese dips. I’ll go get some while you finish here.” You said and turned away before they could say anything. You heard them chuckling softly behind you and willed your tears of frustration away.

Your life had changed drastically in the past few months since the night Steve and Bucky marked you as theirs. Try as you might, you couldn’t escape them, not when they are two of the most powerful and influential people in the world. You lived with them in their apartment at the compound now, and to say life was hell would be an understatement. Steve and Bucky have separate rooms but most nights you’re sandwiched between them in one bed since neither wants to spend a night away. You’d had more sex in these few months than people probably did in years.

You veered left into the sauces and spreads aisle, absentmindedly looking at the display. It wouldn’t matter what flavor you got, it would end up spread all over you and licked by your two lovers. You randomly took a jar off the shelf and were about to go back when you bumped into someone standing behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You apologized to the man behind you. His hand took hold of your elbow for a second to steady you before he stepped away and shook his head.

“It’s alright miss, not a problem.” He said with a small smile. You got a look at his face and your heart skipped a beat. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair, his genuine smile framed by a well-groomed beard. You saw his eyes dart to the jar in your hand and his lips twitched in amusement.

“I’d advise against this” He said pointing to the jar and you looked down at your hands in confusion. “While one may handle blue cheese, you don’t want to try its dip.”

You winced once you realized what you had picked and the man behind you laughed a little as he saw you put it back.

“What will you suggest?” You asked him. This was probably the only normal interaction you had had in a long time outside of work. It did help that this man was what some would call daddy.

“Oh, I am not a good cook. I just stick to the basics you know, less chances of messing up a dish.” He answered and handed you a classic cheese dip. You took it from him with a smile and thanked him. You lingered a moment, for some reason wanting to stay. It seemed like he had the same idea for even though he had picked his own jar, he didn’t leave.

“You, uh – you should get nachos to go with this. They have them on sale.” You said and internally cringed.

“Oh, alright then. Will you show me the way?” He asked and you nodded, leading him around as he followed with his cart.

“You new in the area?” You asked him since all locals knew the store layout pretty well.

“Ah yes, just moved here from Newton, Massachusetts. My name is Andy Barber” The man said and offered you a hand. Your smile vanished even as you mechanically accepted his hand and shook it. Andy Barber. AB. Like the initials on your wrist. Your hand squeezed around your wristband, your heart beating a mile an hour.

“Hey, you okay?” Andy asked and you realized he’d been speaking to you.

“Ah yes, yes I’m okay. Just lost in thought. Here we are, nachos.” You said and uselessly pointed at the display. You told yourself you were being silly, a lot of people with same initials existed. He may not even have a soulmark. Yet as you looked at him selecting his flavors, you couldn’t help but feel lighter than you had in months. You felt belonged, stupid as that may sound.

“So, you live around here?” You wished Andy would stop talking. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to stay and talk the rest of your life away with him.

“Yes, I am a doctor at the Avenger Tower.” You managed to say and saw his eyebrows raise appreciatively.

“Damn, that’s so cool” He said, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I am a lawyer, starting as a professor in NYU from next term.”

“Damn, that’s so cool” you mimicked him and you both breathed out a laugh. You didn’t realize it as you spoke to him that you were walking aimlessly with him around the store, telling him about the sites he absolutely must visit in New York and the best places to get coffee and hotdogs from. You had circled back to the spreads section and stood awkwardly facing each other.

“Uh, it may seem a little forward, but will you show me around the city?” Andy asked, fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt. You wanted him to take it off and see if your initials were tattooed in his skin like his were in yours. You were about to open your mouth when a hand wrapped around your waist from behind.

“There you are sweetie, you had us worried.” Steve’s words felt like a splash of cold water. For a few glorious moments you had forgotten your predicament, lost as you were in conversation with Andy. Your eyes met Andy’s and you saw him frown, his gaze narrowing on Steve’s arm around you and noticing how you tried to get out of it.

“I – uh, couldn’t decide so settled with the classic.” You showed Steve the cheese dip, but his eyes were fixed on Andy whose face was clouded with suspicion.

“Steve Rogers” He offered his hand to Andy, a useless introduction since most people recognized him with ease. You thought Andy would almost decline the handshake but, in the end, politely shook it.

“Pleased to meet you. Thank you for your service to the nation and the world.” His words were polite and yet there was a mistrustful edge to it. You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything and just walk away. You knew how Steve and Bucky could get about other men in your life, and right now you wanted Andy far away from here.

“Don’t mention it” Steve said preening and you took off his hand from your waist and laced your fingers together, trying to pull him away.

“We gotta go, lots to do back home. Thanks for the suggestion mister” You unnecessarily pointed at the jar again and tried to move back but Steve stood still. You were careful not to mention Andy’s name in front of him and you prayed with everything in you that this interaction would be over soon enough.

“Steve, you find her yet?” You closed your eyes in defeat and shame as Bucky walked from the other side and joined your little party. He closed in on you, hands cupping your face and drawing you in a deep kiss. You kept your eyes downcast, not looking at Andy and hoping the Earth will swallow you whole.

“Yeah, she’s was just having some trouble selecting the flavor until this gentleman here helped her.” Steve said and Bucky turned to look at Andy who was frowning harder than ever now. Andy’s eyes were searching yours, but you couldn’t let yourself meet his. Your shame and fear were profound and all you wanted was to leave.

Bucky’s eyes moved from Andy to Steve to you and he straightened, his arm curling around your shoulder, hand resting near your left collarbone just inches away from the scarred initials of him and Steve.

“Thank you, our girl here can be a little iffy when it comes to food” Bucky remarked affectionately but his emphasis on ‘our’ was not lost on either of you.

“Not a problem.” Andy finally nodded and took hold of his cart, ready to wheel it away. You almost sighed in relief, but your heart broke a little when he started retreating. Your eyes met for a brief moment and it seemed as if he would stop but then you looked away and he continued moving.

“What are we going to do with you Y/n?” Bucky muttered once Andy was out of sight. They didn’t care they were in a public place, both of them standing almost on top of you.

“I don’t know what you mean” You whispered and felt Bucky’s metal hand tighten over your arm. You hissed and tried to pull away but found your chin being raised up to face him with rough hands.

“Do you want another lesson on how to behave around strange men?” Bucky asked and your eyes widened, head shaking in negation.

“No, no Buck. Please, nothing happened. We were just talking” You begged, trying to convince him. You watched in horror as one of his hand outright cupped your left boob, fingers splayed so they pressed into the scars over your heart.

“You sure? I can show the whole store who you belong to my love.”

You were ready to start bawling when Bucky started fiddling with the neckline of your top, but it was Steve who saved the day. He gently pried Bucky’s hands from you and tucked you under his arm, pushing your head in his chest with a hand while the other kept Bucky away.

“Not here Buck, look at her. Honestly!” Steve started a swift walk towards the exit with you at his side and you couldn’t help but look back. It was one of those situations where you found the precious thing lost within a sea of garbage when you spotted Andy, his eyes not on you but your arm. You followed his gaze and suppressed a sob as you saw your wristband had shifted after your struggle with Bucky, bringing into view the initials that made your soulmark.

ASB: Andrew S Barber

You didn’t know his middle name but you couldn’t be any more sure of who your soulmate was when Andy’s eyes darted to his own covered wrist the moment Bucky shouted, “Steven Rogers and Y/n Y/l/n you both come back here this very second!”

Bucky was getting your stuff checked out, standing at the cashiers with his grumpy dad face on. Steve ignored him and continued dragging you away towards the exit. Your eyes watered and you tried to stem their flow so you could have one last glance at Andy without tears blurring your vision. You both stared at each other and just before you walked out the doors, even from the distance you saw Andy mouth a promise:

I will come for you

+++++

Fate was a cruel bastard, and you cursed your destiny as you lay curled in Steve’s lap after dinner. No one spoke much once you got home but you knew it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. You were wearing a short nightie, Bucky’s favorite and Steve’s hands were absently massaging you as he read through a new mission briefing.

“Wanda was asking about you again” Steve said, and you blinked at him. Just another thing you loved that they had snatched away from you. Wanda was obviously very suspicious when you announced you’ll be shifting from your apartment to Steve and Bucky’s since she knew you wanted to wait for your soulmate to show up. You would have confided in her had you not been aware of the damage your lovers could cause if displeased. Bucky had strictly ordered you to keep away from her until you were in control of your thoughts, which he was afraid Wanda would read. You had looked to help from Steve, who was softer out of the two, but he agreed with Bucky, “Better she not know anything than us having to eliminate her if she did.” They talked of death and violence with such ease it made your skin crawl.

“Can I see her now? I don’t think my texts are keeping her satisfied.” If only you could get a few hours away from their stifling presence maybe it would be more tolerable. The both of them clung to you like a babe to his mum, and your only respite were the hours you spent working.

“Do you think you’re ready to see her now?” Steve questioned you, finally looking up from his mission briefing. Before you could answer Bucky came behind you and plucked you from Steve’s arms like you weighed nothing and perched you in his own lap. Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“The better question would be if you think you deserve to see her.” Bucky commented, his hand fondling your behind under the silk nightie. You shifted under his touch and gaze, uncomfortable under the stern look.

“I’m minding my thoughts, I promise.” You whined and Bucky’s hand cracked against your ass suddenly. You squealed and he held you down with one hand, the second blow even harder than the first.

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant. I don’t like it when you act dumb.” Bucky snarled and you flinched as he raised his hand again. To your surprise, the slap barely had any force behind it and Bucky rubbed your ass softly as if in apology. You turned your face to peek at him and saw him and Steve locked in one of those silent eye contact conversations that you absolutely loathed. Steve was almost glaring at Bucky as if displeased and Bucky had enough grace to look a little ashamed.

“I wasn’t!” Bucky cried out suddenly, throwing his hands in the air and huffing. It was as if they were continuing a conversation that went from telepathy to verbal and your mouth parted in awe when Steve continued speaking too.

“You would have if I didn’t stop you.”

Your gaze moved from one man to another, confused beyond measure. In a flash Bucky was gathering you in his arms, holding you to himself like he was afraid papa Steve would take away his favorite toy.

“I know my limits Steve. She’s mine as much as yours. Stop it.”

You were sure if you tilted your head up you would see Bucky pouting but instead you observed Steve who was in classic captain pose with hands on his hips and disapproval on his face.

“Do you really? Because it sure seemed like you were about to strip her naked in a supermarket of all places.”

“I wouldn’t! I was teasing her.” Bucky said, his head buried in your neck. He took your hand and placed it on his head and you slowly scratched with your nails, making him purr in satisfaction. Steve didn’t look the least bit convinced and his eyes kept bouncing between you and Bucky. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh before getting up.

“She is sleeping in my room tonight.” Your head snapped up just as Bucky’s hold tightened around you in rejection of the idea.

“No, you can’t take her from me.” Bucky snapped and you resisted the urge to slap them both. It bothered you how they went on talking about you like you weren’t even present here.

“I’m not taking her away from you, pal. Just like she learns her lessons when she fucks up, so will you.”

Bucky didn’t look like he would want a lesson, but it didn’t seem like the first time they were having this talk because he said nothing more. He almost didn’t let you leave when Steve took your arm to take you away but finally relented.

“When can I have her back?” Yep, he was definitely pouting.

“When you learn that teasing is pinching her ass in public, not stripping her bare in front of strangers.”

+++++

It had been a while since there were two people in bed and not three. You stretched your feet out, glad to have some extra space. Even cuddled up in Steve’s massive arms, your thoughts returned to Andy. You had finally found him after years of searching, only to lose him on the same day. It was a cosmic joke to have you cross paths now when it was too late to do anything. Your hand unconsciously traced the letters on your wrist, a slight thrill running down your spine as you finally realized what and who these initials stood for.

It wasn’t just a legend anymore. They were right when they said that soulmates completed you. In those precious few moments you had spent with Andy, all your worries had fallen away. You both had built a bubble around yourself where the outer world was nothing but a distant blur and you saw only each other. Conversation didn’t sound strained and you felt so connected despite having just met. You wished you knew he existed a few months ago. How different would life have been then if you were laying in his arms and not Steve and Bucky’s?

You bit your lip when you felt Steve take your hand in his from behind you, his fingers too tracing the initials on your wrist. You stiffened and held yourself back from snatching your hand away. It was never a very good idea to resist when it came to them both.

“Bucky doesn’t know yet” Steve murmured in your ear as he tapped your wrist. You felt your heart drop in your stomach, your fingers curling in your palm. “He thinks it was just some man you were speaking to. His jealousy makes him sloppy and he doesn’t notice details.”

You were turned around to face him, your eyes locking on Steve’s which were a vibrant blue even in the dark. His hands played at the hem of your nightie, teasing it.

“I noticed of course. How could I not, I have never seen you smile the way you smiled at him” You didn’t seem capable of speaking or protesting when Steve’s hands slipped up your clothing and caressed your thighs and belly. His hands were moving but his eyes were fixed on you and try as you might you couldn’t look away. Slowly, gently like one does to precious cargo you were stripped, your body baring itself inch by delicious inch. The calluses on his fingers rubbed against your nipples and you let out a moan, your slick coating your walls and thighs. Your lips met his in a desperate kiss and you couldn’t help but make pathetic mewls as his tongue raced across your throat. He came to rest above your heart, tracing the scar over it. JBB and SGR

“How are these any different to those on your wrist?” He questioned as he entered you slowly, looking deep into your eyes like trying to search your soul. “If we carve your name on our body, would that make you look at us like you looked at him?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to, the heat of Steve warming your insides. You met in a familiar dance, bodies slapping, and moaning together until pleasure took over every cell in your body. Steve pulled out and released on your thighs, rubbing his essence in your skin, his breath warm on your cheek.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if I find you talking to that man again” It was not a question and you shook your head, tears travelling down the sides of your face and getting lost in your hair. “Good girl. We can forget it and Bucky will never know. Because if that happens, even I won’t be able to help you.”

You reminded yourself that Steve was just as much of a monster as Bucky was. He had taken you against your will too, and while he may as well be the lesser of the two evils, you could not trust him. You turned to your side, automatically curling into Steve out of habit when he held you. That is what this relationship felt like. A habit. It was a routine you were stuck in with no way out. You closed your eyes, seeking the escape of sleep and tried to sooth your broken heart over a love it may never find again.

+++++

Bucky was a terrible stalker and you wondered how he remained a ‘ghost story’ for all those decades. Steve had been hoarding you in his room for nearly a week and you knew Bucky was at his wit’s end. He wasn’t even pretending to hide anymore; he’d just stand across the med bay and ogle you like a roadway creep. You didn’t even know what to do, who should you listen to. Being caught in the crossfire between them is not fun.

You finally had enough and made your way over to him. You were a few feet away when he snatched you in his arms, crushing you to his frame and kissing you soundly. Pulling away, he put his forehead on yours and bit your lip.

“I’ve missed you baby.” He cooed and you sighed.

“Is that why you’re lurking here and scaring my nursing staff away?” Bucky nodded, pecking your lips once more before you moved away.

“I’m sorry about the other day you know. I just…lost control.” It was rare that he would apologize, and you were too smart to reject this small consolation. He will probably be kind and soft for the coming few days and you took what you can. You smiled at him, promising him you forgave him.

“I have just one public hour and then we can go home together. Sounds good?” You asked and Bucky’s smile was almost shy when he agreed. Sometimes you believed it when they say they loved you, but how can someone hurt whom they love?

“You asked me once what I see in you, but have you ever looked at yourself the way I look at you? Here you are, one of the most accomplished doctors working for the Avengers, and yet you give your time to general public to treat their common cold and flu. That’s what I see in you. Your kindness, that light, it guides me away from the darkness in me.” Bucky confessed and you looked away from him. He could be so sweet when he has to be. Both him and Steve. You wonder again if they could always be like that, will you be able to love them.

“I – uh, I’ll see you in an hour, okay? Wait in the common room for me.”

You watched Bucky go and returned with a perturbed mind. The hot and cold behavior almost gives you a whiplash. In the past few months, you have spent several nights crying, but just as many moaning in pleasure. Maybe it could have been easier if you’d given in and just accepted them, but love does not come by force. They can carve their names in your skin a hundred times over, and yet it won’t leave a mark on your soul.

Your assistant entered, informing you that general patients were waiting for you and you nodded. Tony gave you an hour free every day to treat patients outside the tower for free. You believed being a doctor your job should be more than saving just superheroes. One by one your patients trickled in, most with common diseases. Some you prescribed for additional testing; all costs covered by the Stark Industries.

“Your last patient ma’am”

You nodded to let your assistant know you heard her and entered the room. You were looking over a report as you entered, the door shutting itself behind you automatically.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” You looked up and the report fell out of your hand. Sitting in front of you was Andy Barber, his eyes crinkled at the sides due to the wide smile he supported.

“I believe I have a heart problem doctor. A beautiful lady stole mine.”

+++++

Taglist is open for all characters

#dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve x reader #bucky x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #soulmate au

721 notes · View notes

ladyfogg · 3 years

Text

First Date

Fic Summary: The time has come for you and Colin to finally have your first official date. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: M

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language & some making out/suggestive language

Last week when you flirted with Colin and followed him to his hotel room, it had been a quick, spontaneous decision. While it hadn’t worked out quite how you wanted it to, you got your chance a few days later when he slept over at your place.

You didn’t expect to spend the following day in bed with him, nor did you expect to feel so goddamn horny for the man the second he left. Even the quickie in your car wasn’t enough. You want more of Detective Colin Zabel and it’s driving you crazy.

You’ve never wanted someone this bad before. But your stomach is a jumble of nerves for an entirely different reason. Because tonight, you and Colin are having your first official date and you have no idea how to act.

Dating is new territory for you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a relationship and even then it wasn’t serious. When Colin asked you to join him for dinner at his friend’s restaurant, you said yes before you could overthink. Of course, now that means your anxiety has been building.

The case Colin and Mare are working has kept them busy over the last few days so you haven’t been able to spend much time with your…friend? You don’t know what to call him. Boyfriend sounds too formal. Lover is a weird word that never settles quite right. Potential romantic partner? Booty call? Really close friend?

See, this is why you never date. It gets too confusing and messy.

At least, that’s how you used to feel. Now, you’re not so sure. Because every time Colin catches your eye and smiles at you, those old thoughts aren’t as loud as they used to be.

You keep telling yourself to relax and go with the flow, but it’s easier said than done. Which is why you find yourself running around your room trying to find something to wear.

Currently, most of your clothes are piled up on your bed. Digging through them, you reject everything you see, almost to the point of tears. It’s not until you sit yourself down and take a few deep breaths that you realize just how nervous you are.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself. “It’s Colin. You know him. You like him. And he likes you. He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met and he’s not going to care what you wear as long as you have a great time.”

Bullshit. Dress to impress. Knock him dead. Take the beath out of him.

After several long minutes of internal debate, you manage to find something relatively dressy that fits and looks good on you. Shoving all your clothes back in the closet, you try to make your room mostly presentable on the off chance you and Colin end up back there after dinner. You’d like to assume you will but are trying not to put any pressure on him or yourself.

You just finish getting ready when there’s a knock on the door. Checking yourself over in the mirror one last time, you take a deep breath, before going to greet Colin.

Dear GOD, he looks amazing. While Colin tends to dress very well for work, it’s different seeing him in a suit jacket and tie.

“You look beautiful,” he says, eyes taking you in with appreciation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Just lead the way.”

Colin offers you his arm in an endearingly formal way and you can help but accept, letting him lead you to his car. The sweet man even opens the door for you. With a quiet word of thanks, you climb in, your heart fluttering with nervous energy.

As he drives away, you sense the nervous tension between you two.

“So…” Colin says. “I know I suggested my friend’s restaurant but if you’d rather go somewhere else that’s good too.”

“No, no, your friend’s place is fine.”

Colin nods, flipping on the radio to help fill the awkward silence. You don’t know what to do with your hands and find yourself fidgeting with your coat, seatbelt, purse, and whatever you can.

“How was your afternoon?” Colin asks. “You were gone by the time we got back from canvasing…”

“It was fine. Made some coffee runs and filed a bunch of stuff.”

“Cool...”

More silence. As Colin pulls into a parking space at the restaurant, you feel the need to clear the air.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company tonight,” you say. “The truth is, I’m really nervous.”

Colin smiles and puts the car in park. “Honestly, me too.”

You both laugh, partly from relief and partly by amusement. “Look, I don’t have any expectations,” Colin continues. “I asked you out because I really like you and I’ve never connected with someone like I’ve connected with you.”

“We have connected very well,” you tease.

Colin’s cheeks turn red and he ducks his head as he tries to hide his smile. “I meant emotionally but yeah, physically too.”

“I also meant emotionally,” you say. “Mostly.”

He laughs and looks at you again. “I’m really happy to hear you say that. Glad it’s not all in my head.”

Hearing the self-deprecation in his voice, you slide your hand into his hair and pull him into a kiss. He responds instantly, melting into your touch and kissing back with equal intensity. When he draws back, his eyes are hooded.

“It’s not all in your head,” you assure him. “There is something here. Why wouldn’t I feel something for you? You’re smart, considerate, fucking adorable as hell…” He smiles and blushes harder. “You’re a great guy, Colin.”

He kisses you gently one more time. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I do,” you tease. “Now can we go eat?”

“Absolutely.”

Feeling lighter and less nervous, the two of you get out of the car. Colin takes your hand as he meets you on your side of the car. Heading inside, you can’t help but focus on the feeling of his hand in yours. It was solid and warm, just like the rest of him.

You’re seated right away and Colin let’s your hand go so he can hold your chair our for you. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, the low lighting set the right mood. Colin looks even more dashing than he did on your front porch.

The waiter takes your drink orders and you pick up your menu, trying to figure out what to have. Colin does the same.

“This is a nice place,” you comment, glancing around. “I’m not used to going out like this.”

“Stick with me and I’ll take you to all the nice places.”

“What? The backseat of my car isn’t nice enough?”

His ears turn red this time and he chuckles. “I didn’t say that. It has its merits.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks and takes your orders, before leaving once more.

“So, Detective Colin Zabel,” you say, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like Easttown?”

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I’m no big shot,” he says shaking his head. “I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” you realize. “Talking about that big case.”

“Can we not talk about that case?” he asks. “I’m not…I’d rather talk about something else.”

“No problem. Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay. What about you? I never asked what it was like for you starting out. You know, after the academy.”

He seems relieved that you are willing drop the subject and as the conversation starts to flow, both of you get more comfortable. Wanting to take his mind off things, you decide to tell him about your more memorable moments as a young trainee.

“Oh, and THEN! Then Mare arrives right as I’m trying to detain this guy,” you say, hands moving wildly as you talk. “And she just gives me that stern, unamused look that she always has…”

“Yup, I know that look.”

“And when I finally get him into the back of the car she goes, ‘Hey, kid, I think you’re forgetting something’.”

“Oh god, no…”

“Yeah, the guy’s dog. He came tearing out of the house and I chased me around the car while Mare just fucking laughed.”

Colin throws his head back and laughs, a sight that makes your own grin widen. You’ve never seen him so jovial, well without alcohol, and you vow to think of more stories that’ll make him laugh that hard.

“Didn’t you go there because of the reports of his dog being loud and aggressive?”

“Sure did. Then promptly forgot when I noticed the stolen merchandise from the theft. Needless to say, I got a little too excited and, whelp, got chased by the dog.”

Colin is still laughing, shaking his head while he does. “Wow. Just…just wow.”

“I am so glad you enjoyed my embarrassment.”

“I absolutely did.”

His face is bright and you want to reach across the table and kiss him.

You wonder why you were even nervous to begin with. Once the food arrives, Colin lifts his wine in a toast. You follow his lead with your drink and you both smile as you clink glasses.

“Any particular plans after dinner?” you ask as you both start to eat.

Colin shakes his head. “Not in particular. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a soft bed that’s been missing you.”

His pupils dilate and you see his breathing pick up. “I…yeah, that sounds great. I kind of hoped you’d say that but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Under the table, you run the tip of your shoe up the back of his calf and he jumps in surprise, almost dropping his fork. You smirk as he gets flustered.

“You have my complete permission to assume all you’d like,” you say in a low voice.

The evening takes on a very different energy after that. Heated looks are exchanged as you both eat as quickly as you can while still being polite.

“Are we thinking dessert?” the waiters asks when he gathers your empty plates.

You shoot Colin a raised eyebrow.

“I think just the check will be fine,” Colin says.

The drive back to your place is different than the drive to the restaurant had been. Colin’s hand rests on your knee, and just the pressure of it is enough to get your body going.

He barely puts the car in park before you reach for him, yanking him into a searing kiss. Colin is just as eager, hands fumbling to turn off the car before he can get them on you.

“We should go inside,” he pants between kisses.

“Yes, please.”

You stop just long enough to get out of the car. Coming around to the front, you both meet in the middle, Colin cupping your cheek while snaking his arm around your waist. God the way his mouth slots over yours is just so perfect.

The ringing of his cellphone cuts through the quiet night.

You groan in frustration. “Noooooo.,” you whine.

Colin huffs in annoyance, pulling back. “I’m so sorry,” he says taking the phone out of his pocket. “Shit, it’s Mare. I should take this.”

Sighing but understanding, you motion for him to go ahead.

Colin answers the phone. “Zabel, here. Yeah, hey, Mare…”

You know work has interrupted your date and you probably won’t be getting to the best part anytime soon. Colin’s face is somber as he listens to his partner.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says, giving you an apologetic look. “Bye.”

He hangs up.

“Duty calls?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “She wants me to meet her in an hour. There’s a club we need to check out.”

“An hour, huh?” you ask, lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah. It’s across town so it’s going to take me a—what are you doing?”

You push him so his back bumps into the hood of the car. “You have plenty of time to get there. I want to at least make out a little.”

Colin gives you that lopsided smile before pulling you into another heated kiss. You slide your arms around his neck as his go around your waist, crushing you against his chest. It’s filled with promises and silent wants. Neither of you wants him to go, both of you would love to go inside and pick up where you left off the other day.

But work is work, and you won’t make him feel guilty for doing his job.

Your tongue finds his, deepening the kiss as your fingers dig into the collar of his coat. Colin draws back just enough for his nose to brush yours as he lays several pecks on your lips.

“If I’m not done too late, can I come back?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

“You better.”

His smile widens and he gives you one final, sweeping kiss before gently pushing you back so he’s not pressed against the car.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Colin watches you walk up to your door but doesn’t get into his car until you’re safely inside. You wave to him from the door, hoping he’ll come back sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you are going to find the sexiest underwear you own and wait.

---

Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @xmaximoffic @marshmallow--3 @stellarbound @kais-messiahbaby @margaretboothsear @slightlyvicked @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @liandav @billyhxrgrove @TheOriginalDoll87

#colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #evan peters #love exists

130 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

caught out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i am SO excited to share this installment with you! There are a few key developments in this chapter, so get excited! we fly through route 66 and in the blood in this part, and we might get a ring..... :)

an ajf fic that requires little to no context!

words: 5.3k warnings: canon-typical injury, medical setting, some really soft stuff

summary: foyet’s scars leave more than trauma in their wake, but aaron finds he has more to live for - a future, a life, a family. (au!october 2013)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Before this moment, you’d never fully considered what it would be like for Aaron to die in front of you. You’d certainly come close before - between close calls with unsubs and a fair few stupid decisions, close calls weren’t unheard of by any means. But even in those moments, as scared as you were, there was always part of you that knew he’d be okay. A part of you that knew he’d come home to you.

Right now, that knowledge is universally absent as he collapses out of nowhere in the conference room.

“Aaron!” You shoot out of your chair and drop to the floor beside him, immediately reaching for his wrist. You’re relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. You know you’re already crying, absolutely terrified.

Somehow, you manage to look up at JJ, meeting her wide, scared blue eyes. “Call EMS. They’re in the building and faster than an ambulance.”

She snaps to, running to Aaron’s office for the direct line.

“Hang in there, baby.” You wrap his hand in yours, and Derek helps you turn him over. Aaron’s halfway in your lap now, your body bowed over him.

He stirs a little, and you shush him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His breath rattles in his chest, struggling, as he reaches for you.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You don’t realize you’re talking until Derek lays a hand on your shoulder.

EMS arrives, and you’re not sure how much time has passed by the time they get him onto the gurney and down the stairs. You keep up with them for as long as you can before Anderson and Derek snag your arms, holding you back.

Derek tugs you once, gently, by the wrist, and you fall into him. He’s already moving, guiding you to the elevators and down to the car. He repeats the same things, over and over, every minute or so, as you make the long journey to the hospital.

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s tough. Hotch isn’t going anywhere.”

+++

A doctor opens the doors, a clipboard in her hand. “Hotchner?”

You rise, approaching the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you his next of kin?”

You nod, reaching for your wallet.

The doctor smiles at your obvious agitation. “No need to show your credentials. Agent Hotchner is out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “The scar tissue from his previous wounds tore, causing slow, but significant internal bleeding. It was touch and go on the table, but he’s a fighter. Something kept him here. Your attending will have more information for you once you’re settled with him.”

You swallow, trying to keep your throat clear as your eyes well up again.

She presses a hand to your arm. “You can see him now. He was asking for you before we put him under.”

“Thank you.”

When she disappears behind the doors again, you return to the chair you’d been glued to for the previous six hours.

Dave stands with you as you gather your things. You look at him and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Take your time. We’ll be reachable. Let us know when he’s awake.”

You nod. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you mentally draft a text message to Jessica before sending it off. JJ let her know what happened after she called EMS, and she’s been standing by ever since.

As a pair, you decided to keep things from Jack until you were certain of an outcome. No need to make him worry longer than necessary.

4:27pm Aaron’s out of surgery. Not sure how long they’re keeping him. I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to bring Jack over.

She replies right away.

4:27pm. It never ends, does it? 4:28pm I’ll have my phone on me. Thank you. 4:28pm Love you.

With a little tug at your lips, you reply.

4:28pm Love you too. Kiss our boy for me.

A little whoosh sounds as she replies.

4:28pm Of course xx

You’re finally able to breathe when you see Aaron. Though he looks shockingly small in that big bed, hooked up to intimidating machinery, he is alive.

Bar’s on the floor, today.

He’s still out, like the doctor said, and probably would be for another few hours. You cross to his side - the one without the IV - and sit beside him. When you get there, you take his hand and press his palm to your forehead, leaning into him. Even among the sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital, he smells like himself.

His touch, as it always does, heals you from the inside out. You can feel your blood pressure drop, your heart rate slow. The warmth of his hand sinks into your head, your chest, letting you take deeper breaths that are far more satisfying.

After you're sure he’s well and truly alive, you wrap his hand in both of your own and scoot your chair so you can drop your head against his pillow. Uncomfortable in the extreme, you close your eyes, happy for the weight of his hand in yours.

+++

When Aaron wakes, he’s confronted with a few things that confuse him (the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his head, to name two) and a few that don’t (the smell of your skin, the familiar feeling of your fingers laced through his). He decides to address the less confusing elements first.

He turns his head, a shockingly difficult maneuver, and finds you out like a light - your head on his pillow, your arm tucked under your face. Even in sleep, your brow pinches and your mouth draws a tense line.

There’s an attempt to move his hand so he can touch your face, but you wake and startle before he even makes it a quarter inch.

Your eyes meet his and you heave a sigh of relief. “Aaron.”

His lips pull at the corners. “Hi.” There’s a scrape in his voice, raw from disuse.

You haul yourself up, bringing one of your hands to his face, mindful of his nasal cannula. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” His sincerity breaks your heart, and he tries to sit up, but you shake your head, reaching for the remote.

You prop him up a little and he reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

He whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He leans back, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Did they tell you what happened?”

You nod, your eyes still roaming over his face. “Well first of all, they lost you twice on the table, but before that, the scar tissue from your stab wounds tore and caused significant internal bleeding. They’re sure it was a slow bleed - over the course of hours, maybe days.”

You swallow, and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks. It’s frustrating.

“If you didn’t go down when you did, when you were awake, it’s possible you could have bled out in your sleep without even realizing it.”

You’re proud of yourself for getting through your thought, even if you were shaking toward the end. It’s close to unbearable to consider the possibility of waking beside him, finding him cold and unmoving beside you. The horror of it pushes at your eyes and a sob rips through your chest.

For some reason, you apologize.

He shakes his head, his brow crumpling. “Come here, honey. Come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I -“

He shushes you and moves over, leaving space for you to shuffle onto the bed beside him. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Come here. I’m alright.” You tuck your face into his neck as his other arm wraps around you the best while attached to his IV. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

You kiss the skin you can reach, placing a hand over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.”

One of his hands traces up and down your back, dancing in patterns you don’t have the brain space to follow, while the other covers yours on his chest. Soon enough, you’re asleep again.

+++

When Dave comes back to check on you both, he finds you curled together - as much as you can be - in the hospital bed. Aaron’s cheek is smooshed against your head, his cannula knocked out of place, your leg hooked over one of his on top of the covers. Your hands are still clasped together over his chest, his IV easily accessible to the nurses that flutter in and out as the day passes.

The tear tracks are still visible on your face, the exhaustion still pulling at your eyes.

In all his years of knowing you, Dave had never seen you as distraught as you were when Aaron went down in the conference room. Up to that point, he thought you both somewhat invincible, even at your weakest.

Though you both had your fair share of hospital stays over the years, none of them ever broke through that ceaseless calm that arced between you and Aaron. When you’re in the room together, there’s a pervasive comfort, almost moving as two halves of the same person at any given time, hardly capable of the wild panic he saw in your eyes this morning.

Satisfied you’re both alright, he takes his leave. There is a case to solve, of course.

+++

Jessica brings Jack over the next morning, and he’s quick to gingerly crawl into his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Jack says something you can’t hear, but Aaron’s response carries across the room in his low, murmuring baritone.

“I’m okay, buddy. We’re alright. I’ll be home soon, and off work for a little while, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Jack’s head before his flicker to Jess’s. He nods once, and holds Jack tight to him.

When they part, Jack trots back to you and you rake your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

He looks up at you, and something passes between you.

I’ll take care of him. He’ll come home safe to you, bud.

Jack sighs and tucks into you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

+++

“I saw Haley.”

You look up at him, your chin propped on his shoulder. “What?”

“I saw Haley. We -” he laughs a little, with only the barest hint of a wince. “We were dressed like old Hollywood movie stars and we were in this...theatre.” He shakes his head a little and you know he thinks it’s absurd.

“Don’t do that. Tell me. What did you see?”

He throws you a grateful look and continues. “She found me in the lobby and we went inside. Foyet was there too, but she wasn’t scared. They were almost friendly. It was...strange.” He squints, remembering. You gingerly place your hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his healing wounds. He places his hand over yours again, his thumb tracking back over the back of your knuckles. “There was this massive screen and she had popcorn...and then a bunch of little scenes from our,” his arm flexes around you, “life since she died started rolling. We talked - about Jack, about you, the way you are with him.”

He’s holding something back. “What did she say?”

“She said,” he swallows thickly, “that you’re good with him. She looked really happy watching you two together.”

You smile, but there’s an edge to it, something long-suffering and raw. “I’ll never be her, though.” You know he misses her and you know it’ll never be the same. But even then, you know you aren’t a replacement, either.

Aaron closes his eyes and presses a desperate kiss to the top of your head. “You’re just what we need, sweetheart. You’re everything.”

You look at him and he looks at you. There’s something at work behind his eyes. You blink once, slowly. “What are you thinking about, over there?”

The thing playing in his eyes sneaks down to his mouth, dancing at the corners. “Marry me.”

A hysterical laugh leaves you, but there’s no anxiety in it, just disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me.”

He’s dead serious. Weirdly, that observation doesn’t send your heart racing like you thought it would. Nevertheless, you find yourself without speech. You open and close your mouth a couple times, struggling.

Of course you’d talked about this before. You already lived together, already co-parented Jack with teamwork and consistency - almost every step accomplished completely out of the traditional order of things. There were moments where you brought him a beer or cashed in some favor or another in the bedroom and Aaron would say, “I could marry you, just for that,” but there was always a playfulness to it. You always told him you’d meet him in Vegas by way of response, only half-kidding.

Marriage was always on the table, always the implication, but you always figured you’d get around to it later. It never seemed to be the right time and you’re happy right where you are, so it never mattered much.

But here you are, suddenly sitting at the proverbial table, staring engagement in the face.

Aaron Hotchner just asked me to marry him.

Well, actually he told you to marry him.

True. I mean it’s not like he has to ask. He already knows the answer.

So answer him, stupid!

He waits for you with an endless patience. There’s not a hint of concern or anxiety in his gaze - just a soft adoration you’ve seen thousands of times before. He knows what your answer will be. He always has.

“Okay.”

Aaron snorts. “Okay?”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Okay, Hotchner. I’ll marry you.” You shrug while he gingerly lets out another laugh. “I’m more than happy to be more than your quasi-spouse and Jack’s quasi-parent.” It’s obviously a joke and he mirrors your grin. “So...okay. Final answer.”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go into the back pocket of my go-bag and bring me what you find in there.”

You frown at him, but follow instructions, clambering off the bed.

There’s a little, flatish box with the smallest of code-locks securing the lid in the pocket. It’s made of something reinforced, and it’s heavier than you anticipated.

Returning to the bed, you sit on the edge, handing him the box. He adjusted while you were shuffling about, now sitting up almost all the way in the cocoon of pillows you built for him.

With a sly smile, he rolls the code into the lock, and the box springs open. He turns it around toward you, and you’re confronted by a simple, gorgeous ring.

You blink rapidly, your eyes shifting from the ring to Aaron, and back to the ring.

“I bought this after I installed Derek as unit chief, four years ago. You rightfully tore into me after I pulled that stunt with that unsub, and I…” he trails off, thinking.

You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, picking around years and years of feelings.

“I don’t know. I knew something I didn’t know, if that makes any sense at all. I knew it was yours, too, when I got it, but I didn’t acknowledge it even after I tucked it in my old go-bag for safe keeping and kept it there, ever since. The only time I didn’t have it with me was in Pakistan. I left it in a locked box in the office at home.”

He laughs at himself, looking down at the cable-knit blanket over his legs.

“I’m an idiot, and of course you set me to rights after Pakistan, and Haley told me I was still an idiot not fifteen hours ago. She said you’re the best thing that’s happened to our family, she misses you, and I’ll only be four years late if I ask you to marry me now.” He looks back at you with a little smile. “I love you. It’s not enough, but I love you.”

There’s nothing to say, so you just let him take the ring from the box and slip it in your finger. The silver shines against your skin, the tiny diamonds casting rainbows against the wall in the morning sunlight.

It’s gorgeous.

When it’s in place, you scoot closer to him. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, smiling against your mouth.

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me,” you say against his lips. You lean back, carding your fingers through the hair at his temples. “You couldn’t have proposed to me in the absence of a near death experience, could you?”

He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

Wearing your ring around the house feels right. Jack was, of course, in on the whole operation and was absolutely stoked when he saw the ring on your finger as you helped his father through the door.

You take a few days off together before the next case. Much to your surprise, Aaron lets you help him as he recovers, taking it easy until all of his wounds close back up and his whole regimen of pain meds are almost completed.

He’s home for a few more days while you return to the field. The team asks after him when you return, and you keep them abreast of his recovery without mentioning your change in status.

“They’re gonna figure it out eventually,” Aaron said, putting his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag.

You roll your eyes, throwing your pajama shirt over your head. It’ll likely be removed once you actually get into bed, but it’s the thought that counts. “Yeah, but I’d rather handle that when we’re not actively solving a murder without you, don’t you think?”

His brow quirks and his head tips the slightest bit - a concession. “Fair point.”

When you lean over to grab your jeans off the floor, the ring and chain slip out of your collar and hang down, swinging a little. It falls back against the center of your chest as you straighten, bouncing against your shirt with the lightest of clinking sounds. You find Aaron’s eyes on it when you look over at him and offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

He startles and his eyes jump to yours.

“I love you.”

A wide smile and an eye roll return your sentiment.

Wearing your ring on a chain seems like the best way to keep it safe in the field. Aaron doesn’t mind, and you like to have it close to your heart anyways. The indent it leaves in your skin when you remove your vest brings a smile to your face.

“What’s with you?” JJ asks. “You’re all smiley.”

You shrug. “I just feel good. It’s nice to have Aaron home and safe, you know?”

She nods, squeezing your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

+++

When you get to the door with Aaron and Jack in tow, Penelope opens the door with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!”

She wraps Aaron in a tight, but careful hug, presses a kiss to your cheek, and ruffles Jack’s hair. Her all-intents-and-purposes nephew jets past her, finding Henry and Spencer in the dining room playing cards together.

“We were feeling up to it, and Jack’s friend offered to pick him up here for a last-minute sleepover, so we figured we’d come crash the party,” you tell her.

She snags Aaron’s sleeve as she steps back into the house. “Oh, happy almost-birthday, sir.” You glance at Aaron with a suppressed smile, and he presses a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep it on the DL, don’t worry.” With another wide smile at the both of you, she ushers you into the house. “Alright everyone .”

Emily rounds the corner to get Spencer, leaving the boys to play. You have your photo ready, as does Aaron (but he cheats - he always has his photo with him), when you all step up to the beautiful altar Penelope has set up in the middle of the living room.

Penelope grabs a glass of wine with a fake eyeball in it for Aaron, and one with a fake ear floating in it for you.

“Uh... I want to thank everybody for doing this with me,” Penelope smiles at you all, “and our altar's burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here. I will start. Uh…” She pulls a photo out of her dress. “This is my mom and dad. I miss them.”

She places another photo, this time of a cat. “And this is my cat Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He's a weird cat.” Everyone laughs, and she passes it to JJ.

“Uh, ok. Well, uh, this is my sister Roslyn.” She sets a photo of her sister on the altar. The resemblance between them is uncanny. “Ros. She always dreamt that someday she'd live in Paris, so, um...it didn't happen, but I thought this would bring her some happiness.” Careful fingers drop an Eiffel Tower trinket beside the photo and it draws a little smile to your face.

Dave steps up, pinning a photo of two smiling young men in Vietnam and two tickets on one of Penelope’s tiny easels. You recognize one of the men as a very young Dave.

A much older Dave tells you the other man is, “Private First Class Darryl Jenson. We lost him during the Tet offensive.”

Derek looks around, trying to get a better view. “What are the tickets?”

“Opening day next season, Wrigley, right behind the home dugout. Jenson was a die hard Cubs fan.”

“Sweet.” Derek claps Dave on the shoulder and you all direct your attention to Alex.

“Um... My mom.” Alex places a photo of a smiling older woman next to Roslyn, propped up with a fountain pen. “She was the one who got me into crossword puzzles-- no erasing allowed-- which got me into linguistics.” She looks over at Spencer, who pulls two photos out of his pocket.

“You said we could bring more than one, right?”

Garcia nods vigorously. “Oh, yes. This is a come one, come all altar.”

Aaron pulls you close, and you loop your pinkie through the belt loop at his hip.

Spencer places a picture of Maeve near a red rose, and your heart breaks for him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s got the second of his photos ready in his hands. “Nikola Tesla. I figured he's probably been inventing things on the other side, so hopefully he'll bring something to us.” You smile as Spencer meets your eyes.

I love you.

He smiles a little back. Love you.

Derek’s next. “I guess that's me. Ok. I brought... My pops.” He props a photo of his dad against a candle, keeping him secured with a cigar. “He was a cigar aficionado, big time.” He laughs a little, as do the rest of you. “And, actually, Rossi, he was also a huge Cubbies fan, so I was thinking maybe he and Private Jenson over there, maybe they could go to the game together.”

Rossi smiles, and tips his glass to Mr. Morgan. “They can sort that out when they get here.”

They look at you, and you slip the photo out of your back pocket with your right hand, keeping the other tucked against Aaron. “This is Jenny. Some of you know her as the late Director of NCIS, but she was a mentor of mine for the entire time I knew her. She was killed in the line of duty back in ‘08, protecting a friend.” You laugh a little. “Once, over lunch, she told me to chase what I wanted, to push hard, and advocate for myself.” You throw a glance at Hotch and he catches it with warm eyes. “The next day, I asked the SSA in charge of my NAT class to consider me for a unit placement to complete my case hours.”

A little smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be at the BAU, I wouldn't have my life,” My Aaron, you add to yourself, “if it wasn’t for her.” You place her photo next to a candle on the other side of Roslyn. Jenny’s red hair and bright smile match the flame.

Wordlessly, Aaron pulls the photo of Haley out of his wallet and places her beside Jenny while the team looks on with quiet eyes. He carefully places an opalescent barrette beside her. You recognize it from her box of jewelry - the same one that holds her engagement and wedding rings - that lives in his bedside drawer.

He tucks you under his arm and kisses your temple. You rest your head against him, wrapping an arm around his waist under his sport coat, winding your fingers in his shirt. You’re wearing your ring, but nobody’s noticed it yet.

Dave takes the proverbial stage again as he raises his glass. “Well, I guess this is proof positive that ancestry ain't all bad.”

Garcia follows suit, raising her glass as you all share fond looks. “How about a toast to the... 30 or 40 of us?”

You all cheers, and drink to those in the room and out of it. Haley and Jenny smile back at you. You look at them both, for a moment, before meeting Aaron’s pensive gaze. The same thought floats through your head.

These are the women that lead you to each other. These women built your future, your present. One to guide you to Aaron and the other to guide Aaron to you.

It’s only when you absent-mindedly reach over JJ for a snack, after Aaron abandons you for Dave, that the levee breaks.

“Oh my god.”

Finally caught out.

Instead of looking at you, her head whips up toward Aaron, who’s watching her with a smug smile on his face. Her mouth drops open and she grabs your hand, looking at the ring in the low light. It’s all happened within a split second, but Penelope is the next to catch on.

“‘Oh my God’ what? What’s going on? What did I miss?” She turns, trotting over in her heels to see what JJ’s going on about.

Her squeal almost deafens you, and you crane your neck to look over at Aaron, who’s taken refuge by the fireplace.

With a squint, Asshole.

What? His brows say. I’m just standing here. I didn’t do anything. He takes a sip of his wine and you roll your eyes.

Help me!

You can see him snort. Not a chance.

“I can’t believe you got engaged and nobody told me!” Penelope’s indignant shout carries across the room, and Derek’s the next to whip his head toward you.

“What?”

She turns toward him, her hands on her hips. “Hotch proposed and nobody said anything.”

You bite back a smile as the rest of the team advances on you. Your hand seems to fall into everyone’s palm once or twice as they look at the ring. They all coo over it in one way or another before the information actually sinks in.

“Wait, hold on.” As usual, JJ is the first to bring everyone back down to the ground. “When did this happen?”

Two hands land on your waist, and you tilt your head, giving Aaron space as he slides his arms around you. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to straighten your priorities, don’t you think?”

Alex laughs. “Don’t tell me you proposed in the hospital.”

You give her a yikes expression, and she huffs.

“C’mon Hotch. Really?”

He chuffs good-naturedly. “Like I said, I experienced a certain...clarity regarding the direction of our lives.” He squeezes you, and you laugh. “Don’t just jump on me for this, though. This one,” you know he’s gesturing to you with his chin, “just said ‘okay’ when I asked.”

You twist around to glare at him. Traitor bastard.

He looks way too smug.

“No you didn’t,” JJ insists. “No you didn’t!”

“Oh come on, Jayje. You left Will hanging for three years. You don’t have a single leg to stand on.”

She rolls her eyes, but you know you’ve got her when Will steps up beside her and kisses her cheek. “Got you there, darlin’”

Rossi, of course, takes your face in his hands and plants two kisses on your cheeks and then does the same to Aaron while Derek pulls you to his chest.

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. He looks over your shoulder at Aaron, still holding onto you. “Hotch, if you fuck this up, I’ll make your death look like an accident and cry at your funeral.”

Aaron laughs, and you duck out from under Derek’s arm while they embrace with some manly back smacks.

Alex gives you a hug, followed by Spencer, who offers you a quiet congratulations. Jack and Henry wander out after a few minutes, drawn by the commotion. Henry goes straight to his mom, while Jack runs to you.

“Did you tell them?” He asks.

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. Both Hotchner boys have the best hair - thick and soft - and it's nearly impossible to keep your hands out of it whenever one of them makes themselves available for head scratches. It also helps that they’ll do anything for head scratches.

Win-win, by your standards.

Dave taps a fork against his glass, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “We have much to celebrate tonight. Not only do we celebrate the lives of people no longer with us, we celebrate the love between two people who are.” He raises his glass. “To our past, to our present, to our future.”

The rest of you toast, clinking your glasses together. A sense of something you can only describe as normal winds around you all as you drink and chat and laugh in Penelope’s living room.

Aaron steps up beside you and kisses your temple. “Having a good time?”

“Mhmm.” You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back. “Really good time.”

There’s music playing - one of Dave’s playlists - and you sway back and forth, only loosely connected to the beat. You tip your head back, letting your weight rest in his arms for just a moment before remembering he’s still healing, pulling away from him all at on

You can feel him pull you back toward him. “I’m fine, honey. Relax.” After a moment, you do, melting back into him. You almost feel silly for pulling away from him. If you’ve learned anything in the years you’ve known Aaron, he’s anything but fragile.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @a-dorky-book-keeper @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

487 notes · View notes

tipsydipsydo · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Gender of the Reader: Female

Word Count: 1.2k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sexual Language; Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub Dynamics (Switchy Kook and switchy Reader; Kook was dominant at first and slowly turns into subby! Kook 😇💕); Wall Sex; lowkey Strength-Kink; Marking; Petnames; Praising; Begging; Mentions of Pubic Hair; Teasing; soft Edging; unprotected vaginal Sex (please stay safe!); Creampie; Mentions of Face-Sitting; Mentions of Cumplay;

A/N: Like usually, my dear Sibi @borathae was my Muse again after we thirsted about Jungkook's bulky Biceps together and she gave me a lot of Inspo for this here! ♡ (It's also more like another thing to tease the shit out of her and make her feral and angy at me 😂 Sorry not sorry Babe 😇)

Her Statement in one Audio Message:

"Why do you do this always to me? I swear, I'll never gonna tell you any of my fucking kinks again because you just gonna fucking use them against me!"

....yes, I would say that's kinda accurate? I'm sorry not sorry? 🤷🏻‍♀️😁

Synopsis: You don't know why but today was the first Day you realized how buff and bulky Jungkook's Biceps are. And the fact that they look delicious when they're tensed up...

Sources: My Inspo-Sources for this Fanfic/my Header

[Links]

▪ My Writings

▪ My Blog Navigation

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

A guttural, almost animalistic grunt leaves Jungkook's throat as he crashes with his muscular and well defined body once more into yours and pounds you against the hallway wall.

His forearms are hooked under your knees and holding you up against the wall, giving him the best access to bury his thick length with every thrust balls deep into your juices dripping cunt.

Jungkook lowers his view to the spot where you two are connected, a deep feral growl found his way out of his gritted teeths. The cute curls of your pubic hair are drenched in your arousal, in lube and probably in his precum too and glisten seductively in the dummes light of the hallway.

His almost wolfish noises send an electric shock of lust down your spine. You feel it, deep down in your chest, how a loud moan full of pleasure and primal sexual desire builds up and waits for his chance to be freed.

Your own sounds of pure and raw need joins Jungkook's audible expressions and creates a filthy and so intoxicating melody. The exchange of his deep growls and your moans and whimpers makes you even wetter and lets Jungkook's girthy cock twitch noticeably in your pussy.

You purr in delight as your lips came in contact with his soft and sweaty skin and immediatedly starts sucking harshly on his smooth skin.

A trembling and high-pitched whine escapes his so beautiful swollen lips, a noise which stands in complete contrast to that low growl before. Quickly he presses his lips together and hid his flustered face with red flushed cheeks in the crook of your neck.

At the beginning of this naughty intercourse he was surrounded by such a massive Dom Aura. He pounded the shit out of you and showed no mercy, loved the feeling to be fully in charge and used you like he desired. As if you are his little fuckdoll.

...and honestly, you loved it. Even when you're more a Switch with a strong dominant side, you truly loved it to get manhandled by him.

But his Dom starts to crumble, piece for piece he falls slowly apart and reveals his strong submissive Side. Kook's sweet whimper and his adorable Shyness about his cute noise draws the attention of your inner Dom to your sweet and shy Boy.

Your Switches works perfectly with each other. Whenever Kookie turns back into a more submissive behaviour, your own Dom comes out and couldn't wait to claim tje precious Boy as your own again.

The need to mark him, to re-new the fading hickeys and to ruin him all over again is incredibly high. Your mouth leaves a trail of dark marks behind and wanders over to your personal favourite spot, his pulse point.

Jungkook gasps and a strangled, whiny moan comes in pants over his cherry red lips. Greedy desire shoots through his veins and his hips speeds even more up, fucking into you in a rapid pace and are searching for any kind of relief.

You're lost in your own pleasure but you are still able to manage to clench around him just right. It drives him insane and he's not joking at all.

He knows this feeling, it feels like as if it's already too much but still not enough for him to cum. He gets this feeling very often since you two are in a relationship, you're almost always able to make him feel this way.

This feeling is tortourious but also unbelievable amazing and it already made him lowkey addicted to it.

You chuckles at the sight of him in front of you, he's all subby and and needy for you again. Gently you push the few sweat-soaked strands of hair out of his face before you lift his chin up to you to give him a long and passionate kiss. He mewls and his body trembles when he hears your greedy growl as your palm and fingers wraps around his buff and tensed up biceps.

"Hm? What was that? Was your inner Dom not strong enough to keep the façade of being all bossy up? Was your sweet Sub stronger than you want to admit, so you turned in my sweet precious Baby Boy again? Oh Baby, don't be shy~ being a submissive Boy isn't a Bad thing at all! You know how much I love it to have you that way, my sweet Darling~", you coo at him and make him blush even more.

Your teasing words makes him all flustered and shy but whebeveryou call him 'Baby Boy', his cock twitches inside of you and tiny whimper comes through his slightly open lips.

"Bab- Mistress! P-Please... I-I need to c-cum! I can't take it and longer...", pants Jungkook in a whiny and trembling voice, some hiccups follows and it sounds like he's near to tear up. Maybe from your teasing words or the humiliation of his own body to fall so quickly back into his submissive position.

"Oh Baby, don't cry, okay? It's absolutely okay and normal to fall back into the position you're most used to. It's fine, Baby Boy. Cum for your Mistress, stuff your creamy cum deep inside of her pussy and fill her all up to the brim~", you wisper sweetly in his ear. Pulling him with your calves on his lower back even further into your greedy cunt.

"O-Oh my God, y-yes! T-Thank you so much, Mistress, thank you! Will fill you up like the Good Boy I am!", he cry out and promises you over and over again.

It doesn't take long anymore, just a few more thrusts to make Jungkook cum deep into you. Shoots rope after rope of thick creamy white cum into your tight, velvety walls until you feel in a special way pretty full. Yes, your sweet Boy is a very healthy Boy and has huge loads to give and to play around.

"That's it, pretty Boy. Such a good Boy you are for me~", you praise him softly and smiles fondly at him while you play gently with the hair in his nape. Nevertheless, your Darling is a shy bean and doesn't dare to look up at you. Until a certain realisation hits him.

"Miss... You didn't cum. Can you sit on my face so I can make it up to you? Pretty Please? Wanna make you feel good too and wanna taste myself in your pretty pussy...", he begs and looks now into your face with those adorable big doe eyes.

Gosh, why is this Boy just so awfully cute and sweet?! You can barely say no to such loving doe eyes.

"...oh Baby, you're too cute for your own good! Go on then, get yourself what that Golden Boy desires."

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #bts smut #bangtanarmynet #jungkook smut #purplearmynet #sub! bts #bts jungkook wall sex #song inspo: the walls by chase atlantic #bts x reader #sub! jungkook #sub bts x dom reader #jungkook x reader #subby jungkookie #bts x reader smut #the walls by tipsydipsydo

583 notes · View notes

doodleimprovement · 4 years

Text

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization”

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He”

Enjoy!

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?”

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

#ahit #ahit coffee shop au #coffee shop au #moonjumper #ahit moonjumper #ahit oc #nell #ahit nell #backstory #antonia writes #this was fun

207 notes · View notes

destiniesfic · 4 years

Note

For the smut dialogue prompts: Darklina, 30 & 99 🖤

Note: Thanks for the prompt! I set this in one of the modern AUs that lives rent-free in my head, which is why the characterizations here differ from, say, OOT. It is definitely more explicit than my norm, so 🔞, thank you very much. Roughly 1800 words, with dirty talk, some mild comeplay, and edging under the cut.

(list of smut dialogue prompts)

Aleksander always woke up first. That’s how it had always been, even since the early days of their relationship, when they didn’t have a label for what they were. She would wake to find him looking at her, and laugh out of nervousness, and tease, because it long had been a habit of hers to hide her nerves with barbs.

“Do you like me?” she remembered saying. “Gross.”

And he smiled. The lines at the corners of his eyes had been fainter then, but they were there. She already liked tracing them in her mind, mapping them for the inevitable sketches she’d make of his face in the little notebook she kept in her bag.

“I’m starting to,” he murmured, in that voice, with that accent, and she was gone on him.

Later, once they’d moved into the condo together and settled into the rhythm of a life, she was not surprised that he was often up and out of bed before she was. It meant that they had fewer morning trysts, unless he finished his workout early, but it was also weirdly comfortable. She didn’t worry when she woke up and he was already in another room. She knew he would always come find her.

And that meant she could take her own sweet time getting out of bed on the days she didn’t have work. She could pull on one of his old shirts and saunter into the kitchen with it skimming her thighs, and she could raid his—their—fridge for ingredients to make herself a smoothie. (Almond milk was almost as good as dairy milk if it was vanilla and you put a lot of stuff in it, and he was right, her skin had gotten much better since she started swapping it in.)

Aleksander was already in his home office with the frosted glass door closed. She could see his silhouette pacing back and forth in front of it, and hear the low tones of his voice as he spoke emphatically to someone on the phone. She couldn’t make out what he was saying but found herself mesmerized anyway. Even in silhouette form, he was something. Broad shoulders, lean waist, power in his every step.

Alina didn’t realize she was staring until the talking stopped and the door slid back. There was Aleksander, still in his workout clothes, hanging up his cellphone. His shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his torso and she could almost make out the contours of his abs.

“Making breakfast?” he asked, wiping his face on the towel that hung around his neck, and Alina realized she was so distracted she hadn’t even put anything in the Nutribullet.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in,” she said, an easy smile curling the corners of her lips.

“Cheeky,” he said, crossing through the living room to her side of the kitchen island so he could give her a kiss. Alina stood on her toes to receive it. She knew, somewhere in her logical brain, that she should maybe be turned off because he was still sweaty, but the weird fact was that she was kind of crazy about the way he smelled. Supposedly that was a good thing, meant that they were physically compatible. All Alina knew for sure that she wanted to press her face in his neck and inhale until she had her fill.

“I’m serious,” she murmurs against his lips.

She felt his smirk. “Well, you do need to eat regardless. Compliments won’t hit your macros.”

“I can think of a way to get more protein.”

“Alina.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. It was getting long again, a couple of inches past her shoulders—grown out from when she’d cut it for her film debut, nearly two years ago now.

“What?”

His grey eyes sparkled. “That was very bad.”

“You like when I’m a little bad,” she teased. She ran her hands down his shirt, and then followed their path, sinking down to her knees. The kitchen floor was cold, but not unbearably so, and she was distracted anyway, running her fingers around the elastic waistband of his athletic shorts. He was already responding. Just the sight of her on her knees seemed to get him hard.

“I do,” he said, placing a hand on the back of her head. “But I like it better when you’re very good. Can you be good for me now?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, pulling down his shorts and drawing his cock out of his briefs. And then there was no more talking. She knew it was time to get to work.

To think when she started she had no idea what she was doing. She thought she had to fit the whole of him in her mouth, which was just not a realistic possibility most of the time, and usually made her choke. Now she knew better. Now she knew she could wrap her hand around the base of him, use her other hand to touch while she started just with licks, with brief teases, before wrapping her lips around him for real. (And no teeth, ever.)

He groaned when she really got going, a sound that zinged straight to the core of her. She remembered that back in the day, when she knew so little, some girls, older girls, framed this as a chore. To her it wasn’t, not for the privilege of licking the salt from his skin in the early morning, to glance up at him and see him watching her with those glowing grey eyes. Alina still didn’t know what it was that made him notice her, made him like her, made him want her—talent, sure, but talent wasn’t hard to come by in this town, and he had to be used to seeing it. Maybe she never would never know.

Aleksander pushed on the back of her head a little, and she picked up the pace. He was efficient. He liked things hard, fast, and on his terms. She knew when he was close before he said anything, and she could swallow, but today he tugged her hair and pulled her off of him and growled “Shirt. Off,” and so she pulled his t-shirt over her head and knelt patiently on the floor while he finished himself with his hand. The result was—well, it was splatter on her mouth and chest, which was okay, because it wasn’t her eyes or her hair and she hadn’t showered yet today. Besides, there was something very bad about it, very forbidden, and Alina was still so horny herself that any residual grossness hadn’t really sunk in.

“Aleksander,” she said. “My turn.”

He reached down and took her chin in his hand, brushing a thumb over her lower lip and smearing some of the residue in the process. She shivered. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He asked.

“Aleksander.”

“You know what to say.”

She took a breath, sighed it out, and gave him a roll of her eyes for good measure. “Please?”

And then he was lifting her up like she weighed nothing at all and placing her on the marble countertop. He pressed her onto her back and got his hands on her thighs, pulling up her underwear. “Already soaked,” he remarked, his voice dark with lust, and she shivered. “Does sucking my cock make you wet, Alina?”

“Oh, fuck, Aleksander. Please.” She really meant it this time.

Despite her pleading, which usually drove him to decisive action, Alina quickly realized that he was taking his sweet, sweet time with her. He slipped one finger inside of her, curling it, rubbing back and forth in a way that drove her absolutely crazy and added a second at his own pace. When he finally tugged her underwear off so his head could come to rest between her thighs she moaned so loudly she was sure their downstairs neighbors would hear even though the condo was completely soundproof.

But just as she was inching toward climax, he pulled back, kissing her thigh instead and withdrawing his fingers entirely. She whimpered, and after he decided she had enough time to cool off, he began teasing her again, stopping just before she hit her peak. If her mind wasn’t completely numb with wanting she’d ask him if he had time for this, if it wouldn’t get in the way of work, but if he was taking this time he probably had it to burn. It was so unfair that she was the one set aflame.

“What are you doing!” she finally asked, out of desire, out of despair.

“Yes, haven’t you been good?” he asked, sliding his fingers back inside of her. “Isn’t it fitting you should get a reward?”

“Let me—”

“Don’t you want to come around my cock, Alina?”

Oh, was that what he was waiting for? Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for him to get hard again, with her spread and bare before him. Still, she squirmed. “I want to come.”

“Be patient.” His other hand was no longer on her thigh, or hip, and although she couldn’t see it she could see his arm moving, and she knew he was touching himself. Not too much longer.

She writhed, feverishly hot against the cold marble. “Aleksander, please.”

That did it, it seemed. He took his fingers from her and his hand from himself and gripped her hips to pull her onto him. He groaned, but she practically howled from the relief, and all it took was another push of his hips to push her over the edge of release, the heat in her core spilling into the rest of her body.

He kept fucking her while she was seeing stars, hard and fast—he liked it that way. She was uninhibited, moaning, her nails scratching at the granite. His eyes were on her face, on her breasts, still glistening with his semen. She felt almost like she never stopped coming, like she was suspended in perpetual climax, until somehow she tipped over another cliff and clenched around him and it was just shaking, shaking all over. That did it for him, too, and a moment later he slumped over on top of her, one of his hands closing over her breast, breathing hard.

“Oh, god,” Alina panted. “Oh god, I hate you.” She slung her arm over his shoulders. “I love you.”

She didn’t know if he would say it back. Sometimes he did, and sometimes he didn’t. But this time he straightened himself and slid his hand up to her neck, caressing the hollow of her throat. Alina let her eyes fall closed.

“I’m thinking of getting you something,” was what Aleksander said.

#darklina #alarkling #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #the darkling #mine: fic #nightbringer #ask #intern au

157 notes · View notes

littlestarofthewest · 4 years

Text

Tip Request for someone who likes to stay anon (Thank you again! 💙)

Title: Changing Tires | Words: 1,577 | Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Arthur x male reader | Tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, modern AU

"Can you hand me those nuts?"

It takes a moment for you to comprehend Arthur's question since you've been too focused at ogling him. If you're honest, you only agreed to help him change the tires on his car because you figured he'd be nice to look at while working.

The thing is, you got more than you bargained for. Arthur's been working hours before you came over to his place. He's sweaty, dirty, and dressed in jeans and a tight muscle shirt. Giving him a tool is the last thing you want to do right now unless it's your own one.

"Sure, I'll take care of your nuts," you say, putting a lot of emphasis on the last word, and instead of just dropping them in Arthur's hand, you make sure to run your fingers over his skin.

You can tell by Arthur's look that he knows exactly what you're doing. You've only been together for a couple of weeks, but that relationship was a year in the making. Arthur's been your friend long enough for you to know a lot about him, and you're desperate to find out more, especially the juicy stuff.

"How much longer do you think this will take?" you ask.

"Well, if someone would help me like he promised," Arthur says, his voice cutting out for a moment as he leans on the wheel cross with a grunt, "then it might go faster."

You move over to him and let your fingers glide up his neck and through his hair. When you see a little shiver run through his body, you lean over him, breathing hot on his neck. "I thought you called me over for something else."

Arthur growls, and although he has to look up at you, his voice still holds absolute authority. "Do I really have to put you over my knee, or are you going to help me?"

"Seriously?" you ask with a grin, and Arthur rolls his eyes.

"Right, wrong question."

Ever since your first kiss, you and Arthur can barely keep your hands off of each other. You started out slow, and even after weeks, there's so much more to explore. Still, the last time you've been together was after not seeing each other for two weeks, and things got a little out of hand. You didn't mind at all that Arthur roughed you up way more than usual, and he knows it.

"Fine, I'll help," you say. After all, the quicker you get this done, the sooner Arthur has time for you.

--------

You do whatever Arthur tells you, but can't help but keep up the teasing. When you're done with the car, he curtly throws you over his shoulder to take you with him to the bathroom.

At first, you plan to only wash your hands, but realize that Arthur already messed up your clothes, so you might as well have some fun. You join him in the shower, and he welcomes you with open arms.

"Are you going to behave yourself now?" Arthur asks, drawing you close.

"Can't promise anything."

Arthur kisses you, and with your naked body pressed against his, you forget to tease him for a while. You even make yourself useful by washing all remnants of grease and dirt out of his hair.

Out of the shower, Arthur doesn't even bother to get dry. In between kisses, he tells you to move, and seconds later, you're sprawled out on his bed with Arthur crawling over you.

He kisses along your neck and collarbone, throwing in a few small bites for good measure. Then, Arthur chases a few droplets of water that still remain on your skin with his tongue, making you shiver.

You reach for him and bury your fingers in his hair. "Can we get to what I came here for?"

"You're such a brat," Arthur grunts, but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

He reaches over to the nightstand to grab the lube while you eagerly open your legs. You've been with a few guys who wanted to get in and out as quickly, but Arthur enjoys preparing you.

Usually, your grunts and moans are what gets him going, but tonight, you do your best to stay quiet. Biting your lip, you breathe evenly, even when Arthur raises his eyebrow at you, knowing full well what you're doing. He keeps teasing you, and although it kills you, you give him no reaction.

"Alright," Arthur says, a dark edge to his voice, "you want to play this game? Let's play."

Arthur goes in position, his fingers digging into your thighs as he rubs his length between your cheeks. Although you're turned on beyond measure, you keep quiet. Only when Arthur pushes in, you let out a groan, followed by quick breaths to regain your composure.

Looking down at you, Arthur's eyes hold something dark. One of the reasons you like him is that he's actually a lot softer than most people think. Still, you can't help being intrigued by his other side, especially during sex.

It takes all you have not to show him your excitement when he pushes into you, but the longer you stay quiet, the more Arthur retreats. Finally, you're so desperate that you lift your hips, all too eager to meet his thrusts.

Arthur lets out a mean chuckle. "Oh no. If you want more, you have to tell me."

You groan, biting your teeth together. In a desperate last attempt, you snap your hips up, but Arthur moves away again.

"Goddammit," you huff, angry that you are this needy. "Please, just fuck me, daddy."

The room goes eerily quiet, and you don't move anymore. You don't even dare to breathe. The word just slipped out, and you have no idea how Arthur might feel about this.

"What did you say?" he says, his voice dry.

"I'm sorry, it just-"

Arthur puts a finger over your lips, making you stop. He licks his lips while staring at yours. "Say it again."

He takes his hand away but rests it on your chest. You swallow hard, not sure if you can form another word ever again.

"Daddy," you whisper, your voice weak.

"Like you mean it," Arthur says, his fingers reaching up to go around your throat.

It's too late now, so you might as well go all in. You look at Arthur as innocently as you can manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "Fuck me, daddy."

Arthur rolls his hips, his cock twitching inside you. He looks surprised by his own reaction while heat rushes through your body. You just stumbled upon a gold mine.

"Daddy, please," you whine, and Arthur's fingers dig into your skin.

He thrusts into you, a lot less controlled than before. "Yes, daddy. I need more."

Arthur lets go of you and props himself up next to your face, his hot body covering you. He gains a bit of control back, his thrusts slower but deep.

"Keep talking," he growls into your ear as if that wasn't impossible with the way he pounded into you. "Say it again."

"Fuck me, daddy," you moan, letting everything out that you tried to keep in before. "You feel so good, daddy, so damn good."

It seems Arthur can't get enough of hearing it, getting more into it every time you say "daddy." He brings your arms up over your head, and with his hands pinning you down, he pounds into you while you keep begging for more.

The constant rub of his cock inside you makes you shiver, your fingers soon clawing at Arthur's back.

"Fuck, I need it so bad," you moan, unable to control the higher pitch in your voice. "Please, let me come, daddy. Please."

Arthur moans, his body holding you down as he thrusts into you in a frenzy. His grip tightens as he snaps his hips forward again and again. There's not a second of relief for you.

"This is what you get for being such a brat all day," Arthur groans, his lips right by your ear. As if this wasn't bad enough, the idea of Arthur disciplining you for bad behavior makes it so much worse. "You'll be a good boy and come for me now."

"Yes, daddy, yes," is the only thing you manage to moan as you fall over the edge.

Your cock is pumping between you and Arthur, painting your stomachs. You can't breathe until you're totally spent. Then, you suck in air as if you've been drowning.

Arthur leans his head against yours, still panting. "You okay?"

"Me? Yes," you say, although you feel like you just ran a marathon. "Not so sure about you, though."

"I'm fine," he says, but he sounds almost embarrassed.

"Didn't know about your massive daddy kink there," you say. "You could have warned me."

"Huh," Arthur huffs before a weak chuckle breaks out of him. "I didn't know either."

"Seriously?"

Arthur shrugs, and you push him over to get on top of him. "Well, we better figure out how bad it really is."

"I don't-" Arthur starts, but this time, you put a finger over his lips.

"Don't worry. I'm going to take good care of you," you say, leaning in as close as possible, "daddy."

Arthur groans, and you kiss your way down along his body. Now that you know, you're going to milk Arthur's little kink for all that it's worth.

#arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #my writing #fulfilled requests

228 notes · View notes

daaedoodles · 3 years

Text

Building walls (just to tear them down) | 2, Memories

A/N, TRIGGER WARNING for semi-graphic descriptions of self harm and anxiety.

Cloaked in the darkness of night, the urges come again.

She knows she shouldn’t do it.

She knows she shouldn’t hurt herself anymore than she already has.

She knows she shouldn’t throw away all of that progress, all of the good in her life.

But she does.

That feeling is intoxicating, the quietness and the sense of calm that passes over her - a promise for a release in the pain she causes herself, a way to escape, to feel better - Sarah Reese can’t find the strength in herself to refuse.

It tempts her with every birthday that comes and goes, with every time she's taken the backseat, watching a past version of herself wandering through the endless halls of her childhood home.

She’s suddenly 18 again, standing in the kitchen staring down at a stove she once remembers being so much taller that despite her 10 year old self’s best efforts at tippy-toeing could hardly see the top of. Dragging the pads of her fingers against every wall of the house and memorizing each and every bump and dent beneath her fingertips. Sitting at the foot of the tiny bubblegum pink bed that was hers once upon a time.

The image of a little girl, a shiny rainbow party hat sitting on top of her lion's mane of curls that frames her chubby cheeks, catches her eye from across her bedroom. She’s sitting before a massive cake that’s at least twice the size of her head with the biggest smile on her face, flashing a missing tooth. Carefully piped clouds of white cream surround the words ‘Happy Birthday Sarah!’ piped in a pink, messy scrawl she recognizes as her own mother’s, atop the cake. Tentatively reaching out, she picks up the photo frame. A lump rises in her throat as she studies the photo with intent, feeling the grime of the dust that’s collected on it over years of never being even looked at. Thumbs sweep across the glass thoughtfully, hot breath shuddering against her cupid’s bow. Her father is grinning too, bending down to the left of the young girl as he reaches out with a flickering flame in his hands to light the number ‘5’ candle that’s stuck haphazardly by tiny hands into the chiffon. Her mother is at her other side, an arm slung around her shoulders as she draws her close to her chest. It’s the only memory Sarah can begin to place as the last time she or her family were genuinely happy.

Because come her sixth birthday, her father is gone.

He’d simply packed his things and left without a word.

She remembers her mother’s voice, screaming and shouting protests through broken sobs. They paint the walls of a home she once loved in the dark blues and purples of the pain in her every cry. She remembers her father, his silhouette through the cracks of her bedroom door, grabbing fistfuls of her mother’s shirt. She can’t tell whether it’s the floor beneath her feet or her that trembles with every thud that reverberates through her home.

Then, silence.

The next morning, his study has been cleared of every book that lined his walls, his half of the closet is suddenly empty and the photos of her family that hung in the living room are on the ground- cherished memories, now shattered beneath the glass of broken picture frames.

Even then, aged five and three-quarters, she knew things would never be the same again.

Sarah Reese isn’t a sentimental person. There isn’t much sentiment to spare for the things in her life. They’re empty and hollow, she tells herself, nothing but painful reminders of the memories she could have made if things were different.

Despite every rational thought in her head pleading with her not to, she’s removing the backing of the photo frame and removing the photo that was affectionately placed for display all those years ago. She holds onto the foolish hope that after being let down so many times, she’d be ready to let go. But she stuffs the image in her pocket and packs her memories hastily into cardboard boxes. They’re crammed and shoved desperately into the back of a U-Haul, a last minute addition to a boot packed to the brim crisp, white boxes, full of more brand new things that could ever use.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there Sarah.” Her mother’s voice crackles through the speaker, the cold screen of her phone pressed against her ear. This time, she doesn’t feel her heart sink into her stomach.

Although, she can’t help but hope - that her mother might still come home and scoop her up in her arms like she’s five again, tears tracing down her cheeks as she places lipstick-stained lips against Sarah’s forehead in a goodbye. She knows better now than ever that it’s nothing but wishful thinking.

“I want to make sure you have everything you need.”

She’d convinced herself months ago where she’d go.

Chicago, thousands of miles away from Amsterdam. Thousands of miles away from all of it, maybe she’d finally be free of all of the haunting memories, of all of the silly hopes and pain.

But it isn’t so different after she leaves home and the dread that she’ll never escape begins to close in on her.

Sarah was alone on her 19th birthday, like the year before and the one prior and pretty much every birthday she could remember; left only with her thoughts that easily filled every inch of her apartment. They hang thick, full of grief as she mourns the loss of hope in the way the whiskey seems to coat every inch of her mouth and burn as it makes its way down her throat. Grief, a bitter companion in her isolation that refuses so adamantly never to leave her side.

She can’t tell how much she’s had to drink, too out of her mind to even think straight because suddenly the air is too thick to breathe and she feels like she’s choking, her chest tightening as she feels her heart begin to race. Her skull feels like moments away from exploding, the thoughts in her head too loud and too quiet all at once. Sarah can’t stop herself as her hands scramble, clawing desperately at her skin and pressing her face into her knees as the scraping of her fingernails cuts through the noise, a scalding heat spreading across her entire scalp. It’s the only thing she can focus on at that moment. The sensation of her fingernails digging into her skin, the strange dampness that begins to stick to her fingers and the harsh smell of metal that hits her nose. It doesn’t even register in her brain what she’s done to herself until she’s scrubbing her hands and fingernails of her own gore.

When it happens again, she finds herself subconsciously beginning to scrape at her skin, sending shocks of pain throughout her body under her touch.

It became a crutch that she found herself relying on more and more over time as things grew hectic with the turn of 20.

As the competition between her classmates grew tighter at 21, it wasn’t enough anymore.

So completely blind and oblivious to it - the way her entire life tears away at what was left of Sarah Reese by 22.

At 23, she was nothing but a terrified girl who’d learned to pin every last hope on her own self-destruction.

She’s 24 now. Sarah grew to appreciate the brief moments when that crushing feeling she’s lived with all of her life releases it’s relentless grip on her, where she smiles and laughs and then the weight on her shoulders suddenly lifts, in the memories of quiet comfort she holds close to the heart that she’d collected over the years in Chicago. It’s an absolute relief while it lasts.

But just as quickly as they come, they leave. It becomes easier to hate the good because those fleeting moments of freedom only begin to hang over her head, pointing at her, taunting, mocking, laughing at her.

25 and she finally feels like for once in her life, things might turn out okay. It’s still hard, every single day is a struggle because that hurt never truly goes away, no matter how badly she wants it to. She falls into the cycle of throwing her feet over the edge of her single bed in the cold winter mornings, wandering through her apartment with her mind still cloudy with sleep, slipping her flannel pajamas off her feet and into her work clothes then catching the bus to Gaffney Chicago Medical. In the ED, that girl realizes a warmth, a genuine sense of comfort and belonging in her colleagues and the companionship. Sarah Reese is exhausted and she can’t help but feel like she’s found a home, even a family, in these people. There’s a part of her that wants so badly to push them away so she can never get hurt again but she’s too comforted by the way her heart swells in their company, with what she can only discern in joy, to listen to it. Now, there’s a reason to fight and she doesn’t know if she wants to give up anymore.

Near 26, her pale skin.once a blank canvas was left brutally scarred and damaged in hues of purples, reds and whites. Scars layered on top of one another as she’d run out of space in places easy to conceal, easy to hide from people. There’s a sickening feeling of guilt that fills her each time she sees the damage she’s done to herself.

In the moment, she's too far gone to care. She’s lost count of just how many there are, just how many times she's found herself frantically trying to patch herself up, just how many times she's woken up to blood on her sheets and scabs under her fingernails.

Her thoughts barely come back into focus only as she’s shakily pressing the adhesive of the bandages around her wounds. It’s absolutely silent, her mind foggy and clouded with pain - the panic, fear and anger have passed - and she’s focused on nothing but the heat of the blood pooling at her skin and the darkness seeping and spreading across the white gauze. Sarah’s vision flickers in and out of focus, eyes hazy and heavy, begging for rest. As the adrenaline too begins to fade, just how exhausted she is becomes apparent as she falls back onto her bed, greeted by a pitch black when her eyes fall closed despite her willing them to stay open.

Sarah's jolted awake when her phone buzzes on her bedside table. Through her foggy vision, it's lit up with a brand new notification.

She groans, reaching for her phone and pressing fingers blood encrusted onto the power button. It flashes on, the time displayed in bold in the foreground of an image of herself caught mid laugh as she's surrounded by the people in the ED who are donning cheap Christmas hats and silly expressions, the ward around them decorated with paper ornaments on the glass of each bay in some attempts to brighten the place against hospital policies. Beside her is Dr Charles who has a hand raised and stroking the fake Santa beard strapped onto his chin. Halstead is directly behind her with sparkling red tinsel wrapped around his neck that extends its way down the row of Dr Manning, Connor and Choi.

The memory of the banter and laughs shared that Christmas Eve rises in her head and she feels lighter already.

She's staring blankly at her superiors and the tinsel that hangs off their shoulders with enough left over on either end to fall to a heap on the ground, brows furrowed and lips pursed. "Found it at Party City," Maggie announces nonchalantly, motioning from her spot where she's kneeling with the rest of the nurses, April on her left turning to face the younger girl with a tinge of concern in her eyes.

Sarah blinks, shaking herself out of her thoughts, eyes wide as she looks at the Head Nurse. "They sell Christmas decorations?"

Maggie laughs, "Never been Reese?" She queries, earning a shaking head in response. "They sell just about damn near everything."

She's dismissing the memories from her mind as she taps the text notification that pops into her vision.

It's from Dr Charles.

As her eyes scan the words, Sarah feels her lips begin to tremble as they turn upwards in the tiniest of grins.

‘Happy Birthday Reese :).’

It's funny how just three words could mean so much to her - how just a simple text could make her heart shatter into a million pieces and so carefully piece it back together again.

It’s a bittersweet feeling.

For the first time in years, she's not alone anymore.

12 notes · View notes

the-phantom-ender · 3 years

Text

Hello folks! This is actually my first Foolish request from ao3! The request was basically just. Foolish overworking himself on the mansion and worrying Ranboo and Tubbo. So I hope you enjoy it!!

Gods did not get sick. So he wasn’t, no way, Foolish was absolutely not sick. And even if he was, which he wasn’t, he was far too busy to care. There was lots of work to be done and no time for downtime! The mansion wouldn’t build itself and only he knew what he was doing. Maybe it was a little picky of him, but he didn’t like having other people build too much for him. There was room for mistakes that way.

He sighed, watching the sun dip under the horizon. It was beautiful, really, all of the sunsets in Snowchester were. It also meant a very rapid temperature drop, though. Part of him wished he could slip back into the interior to work on that. No, though, he’d checked on the roof just in case earlier and realized that he’d managed to completely swap an entire section of it. Which meant he needed to rework that entire thing.

His breath had begun to come out in foggy puffs in front of his face. If he were more relaxed, maybe he’d imagine himself being a great dragon, blowing fire and smoke in front of him. Fire was never really his thing, though. And he was busy, so he shouldn’t be doing anything silly like that. Foolish sighed, looking back at the work at hand. The roof wouldn’t fix itself.

His hands were calloused and raw from the woodwork, he’d had to deal with more splinters than he could count. Of course, he wasn’t too bothered by it! He actually kinda liked the sensation of having rough hands. If he were a warrior, it would be a sign of strength and power. Even if Foolish was no fighter, it was nice getting the perspective of working so hard on something.

Which reminded him. He really did need to get back to working. So he did. Pulling things up and swapping them out in a rehearsed and calculated way. The motions almost blurred together sometimes. It was all very repetitive. That could be nice, sometimes, but it was… tedious, now.

The cold really wasn’t helping, truth be told. His hands were numb, the parts of him that were more… shark-like were chapped and moving slower than they should have been. It was alright, though! Necessary in the long run, so he wasn’t bothered at all. Even if he was shivering and his thoughts were… slightly foggy. That was all alright, he was a busy bee with a lot to do! Ain’t no rest for the wicked, though!

Finally, he finished reworking the roof. His chest felt tight and he took care to double and triple check to make sure it was finished. No more mistakes, right? If there were any more mistakes he’d fix those too, obviously, but he couldn’t have managed to mess up anything else! He didn’t, no, he didn’t. And he made absolutely sure of it.

By the time he’d finished making 100% sure that there were no more flaws in the roofing, the sun was coming up again. It didn’t feel that long since it had gone down, really, but time flew when you were working, he supposed. Foolish had something to focus on and that was all that really mattered.

Now, though, came the issue of getting back down. Something had knocked into his scaffolding, it seemed, while he was on the roof, and it all came down. He sighed. Jumping wasn’t going to work from this height. It was too high up to risk. Maybe he could try for some water, though? He was relatively consistent with it.

…

Foolish woke up in a bed. He did not remember getting there. There was a cold compress on his forehead, he could tell that much. Who had… that was totally unnecessary! He wasn’t- he wasn’t sick and he didn’t need to be taken care of. The sound of gentle chatter filled his ears as he forced one emerald eye open.

Someone entered the room, short, hard to make out- his vision was blurred slightly. “OH HOLY SHIT YOU- you’re not dead! That’s good!”

Yeah, okay, it was Tubbo. Foolish opened his other eye, biting back a curse as his head spun. He pushed himself up against the bed frame, looking around the room. Or, at least, he tried to, until the aforementioned cold compress fell over his eyes. He sighed, tilting his head forward and letting it fall on his lap. The room was… not his! A guest room, maybe? It wasn’t Tubbo’s, at least.

“Ranbooooooo! Foolish is awake!!!!” Foolish scrunched his nose, jeez that kid could be loud.

A few moments passed before the other teen rushed into the room, eyes wide. His expression was laced with worry, and it seemed like he had been running around for a while. Ranboo let out a soft puff of relief upon seeing Foolish, but concern still managed to outweigh it.

“You- you really should take it easy. Uh. I don’t know how high your temperature should run because you’re kinda a god, but Tubbo and I went out to check on things this morning and you were- you were passed out in the snow and you were way more still than I’ve ever seen you and- I am! Rambling. So I’ll stop now.”

Foolish raised an eyebrow. Unconscious in the snow. No, no, that didn’t sound right at all! He couldn’t have been unconscious, that was silly! Oh, who was he kidding? He probably was, they were probably right. For a moment, he opened his mouth to defend himself. There was really nothing to say, though, so he just shut back up without a word.

“How… long had you been working, Foolish?” Ranboo asked after a very long moment of less-than-comfortable silence.

How long had Foolish been working before that point? It… hadn’t been that long, right? He remembered the sun going down and rising again more than once, working and reworking sections until ichor covered his fingertips. How much time had passed since he stopped, when had he last taken more than a momentary break?

Foolish looked around,” Not to take your shtick or anything but… I don’t remember?”

“WHAT?!” Shouted Tubbo, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Foolish…” Ranboo started, eyes trained on the ground,” That’s… really dangerous. You could ha- you did get hurt!”

He shrugged, wincing slightly at the unexpected rush of pain. The fall must have done a number on him, he usually didn’t react much at all to pain. “Eh, I’m kinda a god. Pushing beyond human limits is kinda… what I do.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t still have your limits! You c- you can’t push yourself that far. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have all the same weaknesses as a human, you can still… get hurt.” The half enderman was pacing slightly, his hands knotted together.

Out of the corner of his eye, Foolish saw Tubbo place a hand on his forearm, stilling the nervous teen. It was sweet, those two were always sweet. That was part of why he agreed to build for them, to be honest.

“Look, look, if I like… agree to take it easy, will you calm down?” Foolish sighed, feeling slightly awkward,” I can like… work on room plans and stuff, nothing physical.”

“Or!” Tubbo interjected,” You could take time off! So you don’t pass out in the snow again.”

He groaned. There was that look in Tubbo’s eyes. The kid could be pretty stubborn given the chance and he could tell that there was just about nothing he could do to change his mind. Especially when he got that expression. Foolish tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Fine, fine. If you insist. I’ll just go back to my summ-” this statement was cut off by him attempting to get out of the bed he was in, only to crumble uselessly to the floor. He let out a frustrated huff, grumbling,” Or maybe not.”

“You can stay here until your health improves…” Ranboo offered tensely,” It won’t be too much trouble. Uh. I’m not always around but I can… clear some time to check up on stuff.”

To be honest: Foolish was not sure what to do here! He was thankful for the help, really, he was. But he didn’t want two stressed teens doting on him. It was embarrassing, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself! The help was appreciated, he figured they were just going by what other people had done for them in the past.

“I can take care of myself, man. You focus on your own stuff. I’ll let myself get back into working order, but you two don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. You’re kids, I’m not gonna make you two take care of an adult, much less an immortal adult.”

He refused to draw attention to how taken aback both boys seemed by this. He refused to draw attention to the way Tubbo looked genuinely confused. This place was unkind to the children, he knew this. They were just kids, he refused to put more on their plate. Besides, Foolish really was more than capable of handling himself. As long as he didn’t force it, he knew he’d recover quickly enough.

… Didn’t stop him from knowing they’d still worry. He’d cross that bridge when they got there.

#transcribed from enderspeak #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #foolish gamers #c!foolish #tubbo #c!tubbo #ranboo #c!ranboo #woooo big bro foolish in this bad boy #tw: caps

31 notes · View notes

spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/9

Additional Notes: Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick"

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Excerpt: Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

Despite last night's promise, Janus was different. Or rather, he was the same: flashing only a token smile at Patton as he draped himself artfully over the kitchen island.

From the moment Janus had set foot in the kitchen, Patton could feel the regression. It was written in the gentle boredom resting atop Janus' features, in the way he made a show of fussing with his capelet. Like he had better things to do, and anything, even the drape of his clothing, was higher priority than Patton.

It hurt, but Patton swallowed it down because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and did his best to make Janus feel welcome.

"Morning!" he said brightly, already reaching for the coffee pot. Despite last night's lack of sleep, he had awoken to his natural rhythm (which was, much to Logan's curiosity, separate from Thomas' own), and immediately set about consuming as much caffeine as he could get his hands on. It had worked its magic, to a certain degree, and Patton found the day much easier to face. "Coffee?"

Janus nodded without making eye contact, glancing instead over his shoulder, then leaning forward to look into the white fog where the hallway turned back into the subconscious. "Don't tell me the others are still sulking?"

That stung. Patton tugged at one of the friendship bracelets encircling his right wrist, reminded himself to be patient. "They're allowed to be upset," he said, polishing his tone to a gleaming, brassy shine.

"What about Virgil?" Janus asked. Patton frowned, remembering how distant he had been, and turned away from the coffee pot to face Janus.

Patton wasn't sure what he'd expected. Janus' face gave nothing away, but... could he be worried about seeing Virgil? Why else would he ask? "Virgil might wander in," Patton said cautiously. "He's a late sleeper."

Janus nodded, studying his nails with a nonchalant expression even though he was wearing gloves. Patton squinted, opened his mouth to speak, remembered something. "Right, coffee." He took a mug down from the cabinet by the refrigerator, choosing a pale blue one with a pink heart on it. They had lots of mugs because that was how a home should be. Extra everything for guests and travelers and family.

"I had forgotten about Virgil," Janus said quietly. "So he's still practically nocturnal?"

"Only sometimes," Patton admitted. Hopefully Virgil wouldn't mind his saying so. It wasn't like Janus was a stranger, after all. "Milk in your coffee?"

"I'll take care of it," Janus said. He was smiling and sitting up when Patton turned to hand him the mug, and although he was no longer draped over the kitchen island, he seemed more relaxed, somehow.

Patton sighed, relief coursing through him at the return of this Janus. His Janus. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," Janus said, and Patton wasn't sure whether to believe him. He was so guarded all the time. He never seemed to give anything up by accident. "I suppose you did as well?"

"Actually, I did," Patton said. He leaned over the kitchen island so he could face Janus, who had put his head down, staring fixedly into the shimmering black of his coffee. The set to his jaw was familiar, the refusal to look up. He looked embarrassed, although Patton couldn't fathom why. He decided to continue talking, to make the space more comfortable. "Yup, I fell asleep pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. Guess you could say I was frog tired." He winced, grateful that Janus wasn't looking at him, and pressed on. "Anyway! Want me to make you breakfast? I can do happy face pancakes better than Denny's."

"Better than Denny's?" Janus said, finally looking up. All traces of embarrassment were gone from his face; he turned his human side to Patton and gave a crooked smile. "Why, Patton, are you boasting?"

Reflexive shame warmed Patton's cheeks at the call out, but Janus was still smiling. Oh. He was teasing. "Better than Denny's," Patton affirmed. This was new territory, but it felt safe, somehow. Janus was being… Well, nice. Smiling and relaxed, he looked as at-ease as any of the others would. Like he belonged here.

"Who could say no to that?" Janus said. His snake eye lit up when he smiled, Patton noticed suddenly. It wasn't the same as the human side, but then, it was probably hard to get any expression at all out of the left side, what with the scales getting in the way.

Patton smiled, too, and for a moment, all his troubles seemed like distant things. But the respite didn't last and guilt turned in his stomach. He would make enough pancakes for everyone, and deliver them to Roman and Logan if they didn't show up. None of them technically needed to eat, being imaginary; none of them needed to do anything at all. But Patton liked to cook, and the thought of Roman and Logan sitting alone with nothing made his breath hitch. Yes, he would make enough for all of them and then some.

Neither Janus nor Patton made any attempts at conversation while Patton got all his ingredients together. Logan had told him the name for that, some Italian phrase, or maybe it was French. That sounded right. "Hey, Janus?" Patton called over his shoulder, tossing a bag of butterscotch chips onto the counter.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what this is called?" Patton asked, already transitioning to the fridge for the whipped cream.

There was a pause. "...The kitchen?" Janus said.

"No, no." Patton set the whipped cream down on the kitchen island and popped the cap off. "When you get all your stuff together before you cook. I think it's French?"

"Oh," said Janus, his face growing thoughtful. " Omelette du fromage."

"No!" Patton turned away to laugh, one hand still on the whipped cream canister.

"Scout's honor." Janus held up his gloved right hand, facade not cracking for even a moment.

"It starts with an M, I think," Patton said, twisting up his mouth as he tried to remember.

This bubbled over into laughter when Janus said, deadly serious, " Momelette du fromage." That was when he finally lost it, and hid his mouth behind his hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

His palm began to ache with cold, and he realized he was still holding onto the whipped cream. Remembering his idea, he waited for Janus to surface from behind his hands before brandishing the canister. "Open."

"Shut," said Janus, eying him with obvious doubt.

"Open!" Patton insisted, shaking the can a little.

"Absolutely not!" Janus said. "Here." He finished his coffee in a few swallows and held the empty cup out to Patton. "They do this for dogs at drive-throughs, you know."

"A puppaccino for you," Patton said, filling the mug with whipped cream. He was just about to tilt his head back and spray some into his mouth when Virgil rounded the corner all cloaked in shadows, with his hood up like the Grim Reaper. Patton flinched so hard it almost hurt. "Virgil! Good morning, kiddo!"

"Not with him here," Virgil said, jerking his hooded head at Janus.

The change was nearly instantaneous and it came down in front of Janus like heavy iron bars. He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on the back of it so he could toy with what few strands of hair peeked out from under his hat. "Now, Virgil , is that polite?" he asked, affecting shock and offense. His eyes flicked to Patton, but he stopped short of making eye contact and directed his gaze downward instead. "Here I am talking with my friend--" a pause-- "and you come in here and insult me."

“Seriously.” Virgil looked at Patton. “What is he doing here?”

“Sitting,” Janus said before Patton could even think. “Is that allowed?”

"Uh, since you're asking my permission, no. It's not allowed. Get lost."

"Yes, that obviously wasn't a rhetorical question. You're so clever."

Panic welled up in Patton’s throat and he couldn’t control it-- they were just bickering now, but it would spiral and someone’s feelings would get hurt. He didn't even realize he was backing away until he hit the wall behind him. Oh, god, he wouldn’t have to choose, would he? He couldn’t. Just the thought made his breath hitch like croaking in his throat and no no no--

"Virgil," Janus said, a touch too loud. "Truce."

Patton looked at him, panic falling away in the face of his confusion.

"What?" Patton watched Virgil's posture open a little, shifting from defensive to something a bit more neutral, versatile. "What are you trying to pull?"

Janus waved a hand, flashing yellow in Patton's peripheral vision. "Patton can fill you in the gory details as he sees fit. Here's what you need to know: I'm in."

"You're in?" Virgil repeated.

"I'm in," Janus said again. "Quid pro quo." He paused in between each syllable, his gaze intense and never wavering from Virgil. "I gave up my name--"

"You what?"

" Please interrupt me; that will make this go so much smoother." Janus paused, but Patton and Virgil remained silent. "I gave up my name, and in return, was given a voice." He turned his face downward and began to fuss with his right glove, and it took Patton a moment to realize that he was taking it off. For what? Another vow? What else could he possibly have to swear to?

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked, drawing back as Janus stepped away from the kitchen island and approached him.

Janus held up his bare right hand like a magician at a street show, then held it out for Virgil to shake. "Truce, Virgil. You don't like me, I don't care about you, blah blah blah. That doesn't have to change. But for Patton’s sake, for everyone’s sake, we can at least be civil."

Patton watched them in wide-eyed silence. For his sake? Janus was doing this for him?

The silence stretched on.

"Look," Janus said, clearly losing patience. "There's nothing I can do to make you trust me--"

"Uh, you could start by losing the attitude," Virgil sneered. Something clicked in Patton's head, but he had no time to pursue it as Virgil turned toward him with a hard look in his eyes. "Patton."

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"What's his name?"

Patton pressed his back harder against the wall, letting it take more and more of his weight. That was all he wanted, someone to hold him up for a while. But he had nothing, nothing but the turmoil before him and the cold, white wall behind his back and friendship bracelets like circles of fire around his wrists. "It's Janus."

Virgil scoffed, and something akin to a smile flashed on his lips for just a moment. And then, to Patton's surprise, Virgil shook Janus' hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway sounding as cold as the air around them, though Patton was reasonably sure that was poor Roman’s doing.

“‘Morning, Teach,” Virgil said, withdrawing his hand from Janus’ and shoving it in his pocket. “You’re not interrupting anything. What’s up?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” The words left Patton’s mouth in a frantic yelp, all high-pitched and desperate. He didn’t care. He just needed Logan to be okay; it was his job to make sure Logan was okay.

"No, thank you," Logan said firmly. "I only came to invite you to a meeting." He lifted his head and looked at Janus. " All of you."

"What kind of meeting?" Patton asked.

"A meeting regarding Thomas' functioning from this point forward. I believe we have cause to reassess some matters and re-examine some notions that were previously regarded as truths," Logan said "Please meet me back here at precisely 9:30. That is one hour and 23 minutes from now. I am telling you this now so you have adequate time to prepare and do not keep me waiting." Logan turned to leave.

"Wait!" Patton said, throat aching with the urge to cry. "Don't you want-- I can make toast or, or you can put Crofter's on the pancakes. The batter’s almost done."

“No, thank you,” Logan said, just as firmly as he had turned Patton away last night, before he’d gone to see Janus. And he turned and walked away.

“Jeeze,” Virgil said, his face still half-hidden under his hood. “What happened to him?” So Patton told him what had happened the night before.

And when he was done, Virgil had knocked his hood back, angry tears glimmering in his eyes. He rounded on Janus, practically shouting. “That was completely out of line!" Janus was silent. "It wasn't enough to completely shatter Roman's trust in himself, no , you just couldn't handle the insult to your precious pride , could you? God, you're such a jerk. I should drag you down to Roman's room right now and make you apologize, you-- you snake. "

"Virgil!" Patton interrupted, feeling the shards of his broken heart shatter into smaller pieces. "That's not fair."

"Not fair ?" Virgil repeated. He had gone bright red, both his hands clenched into fists. "What's not fair is that Roman's all alone in his room thinking that Thomas doesn't care about him!" He rounded on Janus again, angry tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes, "It should be you; I wish it was you. You just fucking break things, don't you? You keep trying to tell us you're not the bad guy, so why is it that everything you touch ends up like this, huh? Why can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

“Enough, Virgil,” Patton said, shooting an apologetic look at Janus. But Janus seemed unperturbed, standing with his arms crossed and a pitying expression on his face, like Virgil had just made a gaffe at a dinner party.

For some reason, that only made Patton feel worse. He was supposed to be their shepherd, the light to unite them and guide them through troubled times, and all he had done recently was cause fights and make people miserable. He would have to try extra hard at Logan’s meeting. They could all be friends again, for Thomas’ sake. They just had to work together.

"Aww," said Patton, desperate to break the chilly silence the only way he knew how. "It's nice to all be together, isn't it?"

He scanned everyone's faces for some trace of happiness, grasping for something, anything. Eye contact, half a smile. Just some hope that he hadn't broken things beyond repair.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, which was… Well, it was something. It was more than Logan's sickening lack of expression, it was more than Janus' closed-off scowl. Roman made a noise that Patton recognized at once as a choked sob, and continued to stare into middle distance.

Logan had gathered them into a conference room, evidently of his own invention; Patton had certainly never seen it before. Sitting down felt wrong, since they usually had these conversations standing and facing each other, but there wasn't really anywhere to stand. So they all sat in the high-backed leather chairs, spread out around a massive wooden table so varnished and clean that it reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

Patton, not Logan, sat at the head of it. He hadn't noticed, at first, until they were all seated and everyone had turned to face him. The ensuing case of nerves made his stomach turn. What did it say about him, that he had taken the seat at the head of the table without even thinking? No one else had gone for it… Had Patton trained them all so well, manipulated them into being obedient for him?

Over to Patton's right, Janus planted his elbow right on the lacquered tabletop and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Alright, let's see Paul Allen's card."

From Patton's left, he heard Virgil snicker and clear his throat, but when Patton turned to look, he had gone back to glaring at Janus.

"American Psycho?" Janus continued, evidently unbothered by the lack of response. "No? Tough crowd."

Patton frantically tried to think of an American Psycho quote to answer back with, but he hadn't been paying attention when Thomas had watched the movie. All the blood made him feel queasy, not to mention the drug use and sex.

He was paying for it now, with no way to support Janus. Not that Janus seemed to mind; he was lounging in the stiff leather chair like it was his own personal throne.

"Let's begin," Logan said. He was sitting straight upright in his own chair, all the way down at the other end of the table. He sat across from Roman, the two of them as far from Patton as they could possibly be. "As you all know, Thomas doesn't know what to do in his immediate future. He is currently lying in bed staring at the wall, a behavior which was previously considered unacceptable. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how we should guide Thomas through this… fraught time."

Logan stopped speaking, and what Patton had thought would be a pause stretched out into an awkward silence. "Uh, don't you have any suggestions, Logan?"

"No."

"Well, um. Shouldn't he get up and make breakfast or something?"

"If you feel that is the best course of action, I will write it down." A legal pad and a pen appeared before Logan and he began to write.

"Roman?" Patton said. "Anything? Maybe he could watch Parks and Rec while he eats? Or, uh, something else. Whatever he wants to watch."

"I don't care," Roman said in a hoarse, ragged voice.

"What?" Patton's heart wrenched, and the sensation was painful enough to make him twitch.

"I don't care," Roman repeated. "Whatever you say."

The scratching of Logan's pen seemed to echo in Patton's ears and he swore he could feel a physical weight on his chest. "Wh-whatever I say?" This wasn’t right; they were supposed to contribute… They were supposed to help...

"Oh," Janus' voice cut through the fog. Patton focused on him, the only light in this storm. "You've got to be kidding me." He laughed, all his features lighting up in a parody of mirth. " That was your takeaway from last night? That Patton should be in charge of everything?" He lifted his head and shifted in his seat, bringing up his hands in tandem like an orchestra conductor. "I'd love to know what factored into that decision. Was it the part where he cracked under the pressure you already put on him? Because that makes perfect sense. What do you do when a bridge is collapsing? Put more weight on it, of course! How very logical!"

"And I'm sure you'd prefer it if we all put you in charge?" Virgil snapped. Patton turned his head to look at him, not wanting to be rude, but Virgil didn't seem to notice. He had somehow found space to draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. Only his eyes peeked out from behind his legs, and his gaze never wavered from Janus.

" Yes , Virgil, that's my point! Take all that pressure off Patton and put it on me, that's exactly what I want. Congratulations, you uncovered my evil scheme to work myself into a nervous breakdown. I wonder what video game character I'll turn into."

"Like you haven't been aiming for a total takeover this whole time! Patton's probably your next target."

Janus actually laughed at this, which Patton almost couldn't conceive of. How could Janus laugh when Virgil was throwing such terrible accusations at him? They were both being so-- so ugly . The idea that Virgil might be right-- No. Patton couldn't even consider it. He had made the choice to trust Janus and he had to stick with it, right or wrong.

He slammed his palms onto the tabletop, marring its spotless surface with his touch. "Just stop! Stop arguing!" Great, everyone was looking at him now. "I can't be in charge of Thomas all by myself. Please help me."

Roman planted his forearm on the table and buried his face in it. Logan made a note on his legal pad. Patton had never been a violent soul, but for a moment he was nearly overcome by the sudden urge to grab Logan's rollerball and snap it in half.

"Patton," Virgil murmured.

"Just help me," Patton repeated, staring at the smudges his palms had left on the lacquer.

Janus stretched one arm across the table and stole Logan's legal pad and pen. He tore off the first page and began to write, speaking aloud as he did so. "Breakfast. Cereal, something easy. Parks and Rec. He gets three episodes, then he's getting up to brush his teeth, then going for a walk around the neighborhood. With headphones."

"Without," Virgil said. "In case someone tries to sneak up on him and jump him."

Janus paused in his writing and stared at Virgil. Then his gaze flicked to Patton and, to Patton's surprise, he nodded and went back to writing. He was honoring the truce after all. "No headphones." He pursed his lips, as though physically holding back whatever comment he wanted to make. After a moment's pause, he added, "In fact. He's putting his phone on 'do not disturb.'"

"But what if--" Patton blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hand until he noticed Virgil glaring at Janus. He shook his head at Virgil and dropped his hand. "What if someone needs Thomas?"

"And they think he's ignoring them," Virgil added. "And they get mad and stop trusting him."

"Any point on this list is negotiable," Janus said, and Patton had known him long enough to tell that Janus was only setting up the pins for the sake of knocking them down, "but only if your argument is reasonable. Hypotheticals are not reasonable arguments."

"Told you so," Virgil said to Patton. "He wants total control."

Janus slapped the pen down on the table with an unpleasant crack and pushed the legal pad toward Virgil. "Behold! My nefarious agenda."

Before Virgil could move, before Patton himself could be tempted to look, he flipped the legal pad over and slid it back to Janus without reading a single word. "I believe you."

"Patton--" Virgil protested.

"We can work this out like adults," Patton said.

"Well," Logan said frostily, standing up from his chair. "It appears as though you have matters under control without the need for my further involvement." He sank out before Patton could even start thinking of something to say.

Roman lifted his head, revealing tired eyes. At least he hadn't been crying at the table, Patton supposed. "I'm going to go, too," he said, and sank out without another word. The temperature rose noticeably, but remained uncomfortably cold. Poor Roman. It wasn’t often that he got so upset that he lost control of his imagination.

"You next," Virgil said to Janus. "Me 'n' Pat have got this handled. We can do this on our own." He looked expectantly to Patton, gesturing with his head for Patton to dismiss Janus.

Patton sighed. Why was Janus the only one who didn't seem to want something from him? Janus, who Patton even a day prior had suspected of puppeting them toward some bleak apocalypse, was the only one not trying to get him to do anything. Patton almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Everything was wrong.

"I don't think I can do this," Patton murmured, staring at his palm prints. Even after his colossal screw-up last night, they were all looking to him. He had failed, let them all down. He was the one who had manipulated everyone into seeing him as a good person, a leader, a father . And even after watching him fall, they all still trusted him to make it right.

Everyone except Janus.

Patton never could have guessed that the idea of not being trusted would be so comforting.

"You have to!" Virgil said.

"I know."

"Anytime you want to wrap up this little soap opera," Janus said. He was lounging in his chair looking supremely unbothered, spinning Logan's pen across his gloved fingertips. "We need to decide what Thomas should eat for lunch. He just bought a bag of granola--"

"No!" Patton and Virgil shouted in tandem.

"Don't we have to worry about, like, nutrition or whatever?" Virgil continued, smoothing his hair back.

"Logan would know all about that," Patton said, staring at Logan's empty chair. "I wish…" He let the sentence go unfinished. It didn't matter.

" One day of mindless self indulgence isn't going to kill him," Janus said. "See what I did there?"

"Read the room, dude," Virgil said.

Patton let them bicker for no other reason than that he no longer had the mental energy to tune in. They were only arguing, after all, and he was here if they needed him.

He really hoped they didn't need him. That ugly desire dominated his mind, the sudden, selfish urge to be completely unavailable. It was wrong . It was wrong to be selfish, it was wrong to shut down like this when the others were depending on him.

Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in. He wished Logan had included some windows or something, some decor. Anything other than this sickening seafoam green paint.

"Thomas can put his phone on 'do not disturb,'" Patton announced. He wasn't sure if Virgil and Janus were even still arguing about that, but they were definitely arguing about something.

"What?" said Virgil. "You're seriously taking his side?"

Janus said nothing, but the splotches of yellow and black in Patton's peripheral vision had gone very, very still.

"Virgil, I need you to understand, I'm not taking anyone's side. It's just that… Well, you heard what happened when I tried to guess the right answers."

"But you're--"

"Fallible," Janus interrupted. "As are we all."

"Except you, right?" Virgil said.

"When have I ever said that?" Janus demanded.

"It's obvious! You don't have to say it. Every time you come waltzing into one of our discussions, you just bring it with you."

Patton sighed and sat back in his chair. He couldn't fix it. Everything he said and did was wrong . Everyone was at odds, and it seemed they all wanted Patton on their side.

He stared at the legal pad and thought, seemingly out of nowhere, of the Judgement of King Solomon. "We'll do it half and half," he said.

"What?" said Janus.

"Virgil decided that Thomas won't listen to music when he goes for a walk. Janus gets to decide whether Thomas puts his phone on 'do not disturb.' Virgil gets the next decision. And so on."

"Fine," Virgil said. "He's going to have salad for lunch."

"And then he's going to take a long shower and sing as loud as he wants without worrying if anyone can hear him."

"Fine, but then he's going to watch true crime videos and start working on a strategy for what he would do if he ever ends up getting interrogated by the police."

"He's watching cat videos afterward to cheer himself up."

Patton sighed, seeing that they had forgotten about the legal pad, and started writing.

The plan they settled on was a lazy one. If Thomas stuck to it, he would ultimately accomplish nothing with his day. But Logan wasn't there and Roman wasn't there, and Patton barely had the will to advocate for himself . He just wasn't strong enough.

He wondered, briefly, if there was some way he could split himself up, and give a little bit of support to Roman, to Logan, to Virgil. They really seemed to need it, and it had to be hurting them that Patton wasn't there. And the rest of him, whatever was left, could seek comfort in Janus and his total lack of expectations. What else was he supposed to do?

"That's a wrap," Janus said, pulling Patton out of his morbid fantasies.

"Good job, you two," Patton said, and the praise sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Great teamwork."

"Don't get used to it," Virgil said.

Janus stood, sending his chair rolling back until it bounced off the wall. "I'll be going, then. Virgil, it was a pleasure ."

"Wait!" Patton yelped, suddenly panicked. "I wanted-- I…" He faltered and looked at Virgil, who was watching them closely. "I want to talk to you."

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with him," Virgil said, and Patton wasn't sure whether Virgil was addressing him or Janus.

"It's okay, Virgil," Patton said.

Virgil shook his head, and Patton's heart dropped when he noticed that Virgil was shaking a little, his breaths coming shallow (but thankfully, even). "It's not okay. He's dangerous, and I… I couldn't protect Roman. I couldn't protect Logan. I can't let him get you, too."

Patton thanked all the stars in the sky that Janus had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not wind Virgil up when he was clearly upset. "It's okay, kiddo. That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And… I know you don't trust Janus, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

"I-- I guess so." Virgil bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something else. He dropped his voice to a murmur, so much that Patton had to lean in to be able to hear him. "I just want to help. I spent so long causing problems; I just want--" he sighed "--to be good."

"You are good, kiddo," Patton said, reaching out slowly. Virgil didn't flinch or shake his head, so Patton put his hand on Virgil's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But if you really want to help out, maybe you can go try to cheer up Roman? I haven't had much luck with him, but he might listen to you."

Virgil nodded. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I'm never gonna forgive myself if Janus hurts you."

"Ah, your ol' pop star will be just fine," Patton said. "Better than fine! I'll be gay-OK."

Virgil didn't smile, exactly, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a little and that was good enough for Patton. "Alright. I trust you." With one final dirty look over Patton's shoulder, he stood and sank out.

Patton turned around slowly, suddenly nervous. Part of him knew it didn't make sense. Logan had created this space; he and Janus were on neutral ground here.

"Parley?" Janus asked from the far end of the table. He had summoned up a chessboard and was evidently playing a game against himself.

"If we're gonna parley, should we do it in a par- lor ?" Patton joked, chuckling weakly.

Janus' smile was crooked and Patton couldn't tell if it was sincere. "You're absolutely right." He vanished the chessboard with a wave of his hand and stood up. "Follow me."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

12 notes · View notes

imaginedhaven · 4 years

Text

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Two

Link to Masterpost

So I realized today I hit 50 followers! Wow. That’s amazing, and I love you all so much. Plus, it was so inspiring I got to work on some more prompts for this wonderful little AU. I combined two prompts in this part:

1. “Are those slippers?” / “Is that you being mean? AGAIN?”

-and-

2. “You don’t know how to change a tire?” / “Give it a rest, would you?”

As I mentioned last time, I am still taking prompts for this universe! It’s been a great time playing in this particular AU, and of course I have the rest of the story vaguely sketched out but it’s been way too much fun incorporating these prompts. Hope y’all enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin was still marveling at the turn in her morning as she got dressed for work in the afternoon. She and Rowan had spent an hour or so finally getting to know each other a little like they probably should’ve when he first moved in, only stopping when he had to leave to go on a run with one of his coworkers. They still had quite a ways to go, but Aelin already felt more at ease than she had previously.

She still felt a twinge of embarrassment at how it had happened, but she had gotten herself into more awkward situations before and Rowan had seemed content to not bring it up further.

Aelin hummed along with the music playing on her phone as she wriggled into the dark pants that served as the bottom of her work outfit and then sat to braid her hair back. In her month and a half working behind the bar at her current job, she had learned in a single shift that leaving her hair down was absolutely not worth it; the golden waves that she was so proud of had an annoying tendency of getting in the way while shaking drinks, and choosing to tie them back instead left her hair much neater at the end of a long shift. Lately she had taken to braiding the long strands into a crown around her head, the style elegant enough to please her but practical enough to survive the night.

Smiling with satisfaction, Aelin pinned the last few strands in place and stood to leave. She took a few extra moments to glance in the mirror and make certain that her shirt was presentable enough for work before grabbing her keys and heading down the stairs.

She made it all the way to the driveway before her good mood evaporated.

“Fuck,” she whined as she stared at her car. It had been fine when she had gotten in, or she thought it had been. But now in the daylight the left rear tire was obviously flat, almost cartoonishly so. There was no way she would be getting in to work on time, not with her car out of commission.

If he had been home she would have asked Aedion for a ride, but he was absent and his car was garaged wherever it was he put it while away so that he could save on his insurance payments. That left trying to get in touch with her coworkers to see if they could pick her up.

Taking a deep breath and preparing to grovel, Aelin scrolled in her phone to Lysandra’s contact information and was about to press the call button when she heard a surprisingly welcome voice from the edge of the driveway.

While Rowan’s voice was a relief, his words certainly were not. “Are those… slippers?” he asked.

Aelin crossed her arms, not ready to deal with this kind of interaction when she was still trying to figure out how she was going to get to work. “Is that you being mean again?” she retorted, shuffling her feet. The motion only served to draw attention to her choice of footwear, however, and when she looked back up at him she was met with an expression she could only call amused exasperation. She sighed and decided to end this probable fight before it could begin, if only to preserve the remnants of her sanity after an already-stressful day. “I always wear slippers when I drive to work,” she admitted. “My work shoes are great when I’m actually on my feet, but I hate driving in them.”

“All right,” he allowed. “I can’t say I relate, but I suppose that makes more sense than anything else I was coming up with. Doesn’t explain why you’re staring at your phone like it’s your only lifeline instead of actually driving to work, though.”

At the reminder of exactly why she was stuck here and not at work, Aelin sighed and wordlessly gestured to her tire. He glanced down at it and then back at her, clearly confused, and began to laugh.

“Oh, what is it now?” she demanded, immediately on edge again.

He crouched beside the tire and braced his hands on his knees, inspecting it as he continued to chuckle. “You don’t know how to change a tire?”

Just as it had a few hours ago, Aelin felt heat flood her cheeks. “Give it a rest, would you? So what if I never learned, I didn’t exactly have anyone around to teach me.”

Aelin bit her lip to stop the words from coming out, though she had already revealed far too much. Even if it was true, and even though the theme of the day had been building some kind of camaraderie with her roommate, she firmly believed there was such a thing as oversharing and that had been it.

A small part of her brain noted that she felt more exposed now than she had been literally exposing her backside to him just that morning, but she carefully stifled that thought to be dealt with hopefully never. Instead, she blurted out, “And I’m not sure I have a spare anyway.”

Rowan gave her a skeptical glance. “Open your trunk.”

“What?” Aelin asked, stunned. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Deciding to humor him, she did, and in less than five seconds he had opened a compartment and revealed exactly what he had been looking for, a spare tire as well as a few tools. “Oh.”

Rowan shook his head. “Most cars have the essentials in case this happens on the road. The replacement isn’t meant to be driven long-distance, it’ll only get you to the nearest repair shop. I’m assuming you don’t have time for that.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ve only got about an hour before I’m supposed to be at work.”

“All right. You have tomorrow off?”

Aelin checked the picture of the schedule she’d saved to her phone. “Yeah, tomorrow and Monday are my ‘weekend’,” she replied.

Rowan pulled the tools out of the compartment and straightened. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to put the replacement on now, because that tire’s flat enough that you’re risking damage to the rim if we let it sit and that gets expensive fast. I can drive you to work tonight, and tomorrow we can take it to someone to see if you can get away with patching the tire or if you need new ones.”

Aelin stared at him, surprised. “Wait, you’d drive me to work?”

“Would I say I’d do it if I wouldn’t?” he retorted.

Before today, she would’ve bristled at that comment and perhaps even snapped back at him. However, through their talks after his aunt had left she’d learned that he had an incredibly dry sense of humor bordering on outright sass. With that knowledge in mind, she bit back her immediate urge to fight back and instead simply said, “Thank you.”

Rowan’s head spun around to stare at her, and she shrugged, uncomfortable under the intense focus of his gaze. “What?” she asked. “You didn’t have to offer, but I appreciate that you did. Honestly, before you got here I was running down my list of coworkers, trying to decide who was most likely to pick up.”

“You may still want to see if one of them can bring you home,” he cautioned. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, but I’m not exactly used to staying up that late and I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep.”

Aelin laughed at the admission. “And here I thought you were the life of the party. Have you ever done something just because it was fun?”

“Says someone who is currently reaping the advantages of my lack of a social life,” he snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be grateful.”

“I can be grateful and still comment on your life choices.”

Rowan carefully set one of the tools next to the tire and got to work, pointedly ignoring her and leaving her with nothing to do but watch him.

Even before today she’d noticed in a distant kind of way that her roommate was unfairly attractive, for all that he didn’t seem to do himself any favors. That recognition was only affirmed as she watched the muscles of his shoulders and back while he worked to change her tire. He hadn’t even had the time to change out of his running clothes, and sweat lingered at the back of his neck, darkening the short strands of his hair.

She’d never bothered to ask if he’d naturally gone completely grey at a strangely young age or if he simply dyed his hair that color, but either way she could admit it suited him in a way she wasn’t sure would work on anyone else. Paired with piercing green eyes and angular features, what would have been a noteworthy feature on anyone else was a stunning combination on him.

It was really too bad that they barely tolerated each other. And now that they were roommates, she knew too much about him to be swayed by looks alone. All it took was one recollection of him reorganizing their living space and those thoughts retreated to the back of her mind where they belonged.

It was just in time, too, because she realized belatedly he was speaking to her. “—got lucky,” he was saying. “I’m no expert, but I think they should be able to just patch this and you won’t have to get new tires.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, curious.

Wordlessly, he rotated her tire—which she noticed was now freed from her car—and pointed at a large nail driven right through the rubber.

“Oh.”

“Here, stuff this into your trunk while I get the spare on and then we’ll get you to work,” he said, rolling the tire in her direction. She rushed to comply, and by the time she had tucked it away as neatly as she could manage he had finished his part of the job as well. “All right, get what you need and we’ll go.”

“I already have what I need,” she replied.

He looked at her, gaze moving from her braided hair down to her slippered feet, and said, “Your work shoes?”

“At work,” she said.

“And you’re not bringing food when you’re working a full shift?”

“Rowan, I work in a bar. They have food there.”

Her statement granted her a withering look that promised a painful end to her admittedly-unhealthy usual diet. “Do you even have food in the house?”

“If you’re going to judge me, I’m not going to answer that,” she evaded.

“Fine. We don’t have time to fix that right now anyway,” he muttered. “Get in my car, and I’ll get you to work.”

They drove in silence the entire way to the bar, but it was somehow less uncomfortable than Aelin would’ve expected. Maybe there was something to be said for utterly humiliating yourself in front of your roommate, after all. She could only go up from here.

As they arrived, before she could slip out of his car she turned to face him. “Hey, thank you,” she said. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He waved off her thanks with a single gesture. “I know you have my number. Just text me if you need me to pick you up as well.”

As it turned out, Lysandra was able to get her back home after her shift and she texted Rowan about a half an hour before her shift ended, receiving no reply. But as she crept into the house, she noticed a sight that made her freeze and then smile. Rowan was passed out on their couch fully clothed, phone prominently placed on the coffee table as though he’d fallen asleep waiting for her message.

Not willing to risk waking him, she quietly crept up the stairs to her room, but the image lingered for quite some time as she prepared for sleep herself.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

#rowaelin #haven writes #reluctantly rooming

92 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

31 notes · View notes

prinxlyart · 4 years

Note

just any individual toh character hc would SLAP. mebbe ur thoughts on the twins idk this is vague

Nah it’s cool, I can dig it let’s do this

I only put this under a line break cuz it got so long oops lol

Emira:

Defo has a stutter that she went through a lot of intensive and grueling speech therapy sessions for (when she was about 7 years old) that she hated. Amity and Edric both know this and know it’s a sensitive topic for her. They’ll tease her lightly about it, but never in front of anyone else and they know where to draw the line. In my last Vinera post, I mentioned how much Viney adores her stutter. She absolutely loves getting Emira flustered enough to start stuttering. She’s incredibly patient and understanding when it comes to Emira’s stutter and Em’s feelings about her stutter, and she helps Emira learn to be okay with it again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of (and it’s cute).

My girl likes carrots. Like, really likes carrots. As in she’ll eat them straight out of the ground if she’s given a chance to wash it first. She really loves carrots. This is only an issue later on after she and Viney start taking care of beasts together and Emira’s been caught eating their entire stock of carrots that’s meant for the beasts. Viney has to keep the carrots in a secret box away from Emira after that point.

Emira actually really loves beasts/animals but has never been good at handling them. Any time she’d try to approach an animal to pet it, it would try to bite her. She’d get extremely pouty whenever this happens because beasts/animals love Edric. It’s not until after she and Viney start dating that Viney actually starts teaching her how to approach different creatures and her love for creatures reignites.

Emira’s a giant pushover for Amity. Only Edric knows this because he’s also a pushover for her. If Amity ever found out what power she actually holds over them, they’d be in so much trouble. They mask their love for their sister with constant teasing. Yes of course they get annoyed by her, that’s how siblings are, especially when Amity tattles on them, but at the end of the day, they’d help Amity hide the body if she asked. (The few times they witnessed her crying by someone other than their parents, they had gone on a warpath. Nobody hurts Mittens.)

Defo had a brief infatuation with Luz for like 5 minutes before she realized how head-over-heels Amity was. As long as they’re both happy, that’s what matters. She’ll take that secret to her grave though.

L O V E S having her hair played with, but like, only with people she’s super comfortable with. She has so much hair (mostly due to her mother’s wishes) and any time they all have attend some fancy gathering, Emira has to be seen by a stylist in order to get all her hair into whatever wild fancy shape her mom wants for the event. That she hates more than life itself, but whenever she’s upset, Edric or Amity grabs her hair brush and just gently brushes her hair out until she’s chill again. (She absolutely melts when Viney starts playing with her hair). In an act of defiance and because she needed this Change, the moment she and her siblings leave the Blight Manor permanently, she cuts off all of her hair. It’s very reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Viney loves it. Everyone loves it actually, but the biggest reactions come from Viney and Luz (they both love running their fingers through the newly cut hair because it’s so soft).

She likes to sing to herself when she’s alone. It’s rare that it ever happens because if she knows there’s other people in the same building as her, she won’t chance it. But when she knows she’s alone and no one will notice if she casts a silence bubble around herself so she can sing at the top of her lungs? You better believe she closes any doors or curtains in the area, locks everything, casts that spell and goes nuts. Her voice isn’t all that great, but it’s lovely when she’s singing quietly to herself while she does homework or something. On especially bad nights, Amity will ask her to sing to her. Emira sang to her once when they were like, 3 and 5 respectively, and it’s been their secret thing ever since for especially rough nights/nightmares.

Edric:

Yknow how James from Pokémon is just super good with Pokémon ?? Like, he knows how to treat them, he knows what they like, he asks them gently if they’d like to join them, etc. That’s exactly how Edric approaches creatures. He’s a natural with them, but he and his sister’s natural affinity for illusion magic kept him from pursuing that track of magic.

He’s always wanted a pet, but every time he brings it up to his parents, he’s met with the same firm No as always. He’s definitely gotten in trouble for trying to sneak wild creatures into the house to keep in his room. Thank Titan for Em’s cool new girlfriend who’s not only a multi-track student, but studying the exact subject he wants to study and is super eager to teach him everything she knows. He learns vicariously through her and helps her study for her tests. At first, Emira is suspicious of them, but she knows her brother wouldn’t be so cruel as to try to steal her girlfriend away from her. He’s just a dork.

My boy’s got a sweet tooth. He loves desserts and sweets and fluffy baked goods and often tries to sneak candies when he thinks no one is looking. Chocolate is a big weakness for him. When Luz introduces him to Human Sweets, he’s practically bouncing off the walls. Cotton candy??????? Flan?????? Dulce de Leche en Tabla??? He nearly passes out when Luz busts out what she calls a “chocolate fountain” and turns it on. Y’all remember that one image of a bird bathing in a chocolate fountain from a million years ago? That’s Edric.

Edric Blight LIVES to see his sisters laugh. He would pull all sorts of silly faces and dumb tricks to make Amity laugh when they were little. He still tries to make her laugh, but usually those have grown from giggles to disgruntled mumbling. He’ll never admit how much it breaks his heart and it’s not until he sees her laughing at something Luz has done that he has hope he may still be able to get her to laugh again (it’s also the first time he’s heard her laugh in years and it makes his heart soar in relief. He was almost certain their parents had stamped any concept of laughter out of her).

My boy Edric is so full of love and passion; actually quite similarly to Luz. What makes them different though is that Edric is Aromantic. He’s never had a crush in his life. He’s happy with his sisters and all of their friends and their family as it grows in the future. He has some best friends that he lives with for a while (after his sisters move in with their respective partners), but for the most part he’s chill. He loves his family, he loves spoiling his sisters’ kids, and he’s content with himself. It takes him a super long time to be content with himself, but he gets there. I will literally never get over the fact that his biggest fear is “being alone forever”. He’s never alone. He will always have his friends and family. And, thanks in large part to Luz, he has his parents back. His parents that actually were excited when he cast his first spell and tucked him in at night when he was a toddler, giving him kisses goodnight and pleasant dreams. Not the parents he’d run away from; those were the cold, uncaring, obsessed with fake concepts of popularity and status people he ran away from with his sisters. It took years, but Luz helped bring his real parents back. He loves getting to know them for who they are now that he’s an adult too.

He and Gus become best friends. Like, dumb buddy cop movie levels of best friends. They get into so much trouble when it’s just the two of them and they have the time of their lives. At first, he and Em just sort of took Gus under their wing because he was a little bit of an outcast in their homeroom for being so much younger than everyone else. But he’s a friend of Luz’s and a friend of Amity’s after a while, which automatically makes him cool in their book. They soon find themselves actually enjoying his company, rather than just protecting him from stray bullies, and they find his ability with illusion magic exciting. They themselves are considered prodigies so having another prodigy to show off practice with is super stimulating for all of them. As the years go on (and Emira spends more time with Viney) Edric starts calling more and more often for “Bro Time” where they go do stupid teenage stuff or test the limits of their magic or even just hang out and talk for hours. It’s actually all this time hanging out with just Gus that Edric discovers he’s aro; somehow it comes out that Gus has developed a crush on Edric and (major age differences aside) Edric realizes he’s never had a crush on anyone before. It’s a conversation that sucks a lot, but they’re besties and they manage to get through it. Gus maybe needs to take a day with his original gal pals to just cry about it, but he gets over it just fine. He also helps Edric understand what it means to be aromantic. Well, with the help of Luz and Willow as well; Luz is a walking dictionary for lgbt terminology and Willow’s super good at helping dissect feelings (when they’re not her own cough’outofsightoutofmind’cough).

I genuinely don’t know what he might pursue for a career. Part of me wants him to be independent and do his own thing, but a much stronger part of me wants him to just be part of Viney as Emira’s business. He loves creatures so much and he loves taking care of them, but I don’t want him to feel like a third wheel around his twin sister either. Maybe he becomes a dual track teacher at Hexside specifically for healing and beast keeping so more students can learn about Service Creatures. He can substitute for the Illusion track homeroom when needed, but he’s super passionate about the Service Creature sub-track he and Viney pitch to Principal Bump.

#prinxly inquiries #anonymous #the owl house #emira blight #edric blight #toh headcanons #I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about these two

99 notes · View notes