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starlazergazer · 2 years

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Just Wanted to Help

Pairing: Anakin x reader

Summary: Your master isn’t the greatest. Every mistake seems to fall on your shoulders no matter who was truly at fault and you aren’t sure how much more disappointment at the hands of those you look up to you can take. So what happens with Anakin a boy who you’ve been fighting with since you met him when you were kids finds you crying in the hallway?

Warnings: Hella sad, lots of angst, promise a happy ending though!

Word count: 4k

A/N: Honestly just wanted to write a “who did this to you” moment with our boy Ani and built a whole fic around it so let me know what you think!

You hadn’t made it far before you had to stop, had to find a small corner hidden as much as possible, because truly you weren’t sure where to go.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen the jedi council disappointed in you. Probably wasn’t the last. But there was only so much a person could take.

These were the people you looked up to most in the world (or at least most of them) and to have them day after day hear stories that were at best half truths about your insubordination and believe them, was heartbreaking. These were people who seemed proud of you as a youngling, people eager to see where your intelligence, ingenuity, and great command of the force would take you as a padawan and to see them slowly come to terms with who you had become…

No, you had to remind yourself, it wasn’t who you had become it was who your master was making you out to be. Because this wasn’t your fault. As usual it was some unfortunate circumstance. But how many accidents can one person endure before you start to wonder if it wasn’t truly their own fault.

You sunk down into a dark corner, throwing you head down into your hands and burying you face in your knees. You just couldn’t do this anymore. It went beyond just seeing master yoda, master Obi-wan, even master windu disappointed with you. Ultimately it was seeing things unfold one way and being told they happened a different by your master.

Too many nights you’ve come back proud of your progress, how you handled yourself on the battlefield only to be ripped apart for those very same actions and told that you made the wrong decision at every turn. It was like you didn’t know what to think any more, was it truly an accident or had you missed the signs that seemed so obvious when recounted by your master. Should you have just known? Was your connection to the force just weaker than you originally thought?

You could recognize the patterns in your own mind, your thoughts starting to spiral and more than anything you were just tired. Tired of thinking, tired of acting, tired of being a jedi.

You could feel the lump in your throat build, threating to burst, the pressure building in your chest, tears threatening to spill. The deep breaths you were told to use to calm yourself were turning into shallow rapid ones.

You had worked so hard to get here. Had given up a family and the chance to ever know them. Had given up the chance to ever make friends with the other younglings so you could train better. Had given up countless nights sleep studying, training. And for what? To come to the realization that you just weren’t good enough.

You felt his presence down the hall before you ever heard the footsteps approach you. Immediately you were trying to control your breathing, to quiet yourself, wishing harder than ever before that you could disappear on the spot.

But the odds were again just not in your favor, as Anakin’s boots came to stop right next to where you were sitting in the corner. You just couldn’t deal with him right now, couldn’t deal with another stupid fight, with another person looking at you like you were the most worthless person in the galaxy.

With a deep breath you tried to collect yourself, wiping furiously at your eyes to clear them and your face of any tears before you looked at him, not even bothering to stand.

“Anakin I’m not in the mood”

You watched his gaze harden beneath yours the way it always seemed to when he realized you were looking at him which unfortunately happened far too often. Anakin may be an ass but like it or not he was rather nice to look at.

Anakin, however, stayed rooted to the spot, not moving a muscle as his eyes scanned over your face. With a sigh you pushed yourself to your feet, if he wasn’t going to leave you alone then you would give in and be the first to leave. You did not have the energy for a petty squabble tonight you just wanted to sleep.

His hand was on your cheek before you could even process what was happening, a slight flinch running through you instinctively, but his touch was…soft? You looked to the mans face in confusion only to be met with a completely different look than before, one of concern.

One of pity.

You felt the anger rise in you instantly. If there was one emotion you were used to in regards to Anakin Skywalker it was anger. You didn’t need his pity, his was just about the last persons pity you wanted.

You pushed off his hand without a word, glaring at the man before walking past him tossing a “leave me alone” over your shoulder.

Though clearly not loud enough as you felt fingers enclose around your bicep stopping you from getting any further.

You whirled around in surprise, coming face to face with an Anakin wearing an expression similar to the one he had when he first caught you crying on the ground.

“Who did this to you?”

His tone of voice melted away any anger immediately. He was practically seething. You’ve known Anakin since you were 8, had spent about as many years since with him mad at you for one thing or another but you had never heard him this angry before.

“It’s nothing Anakin leave me alone” You tried to shrug off his arm but he didn’t budge, pulling you closer to him more than anything.

“It’s clearly not nothing Y/N” His tone was much softer at this point, a large part of his initial anger hiding back behind the wall he liked to put up between the two of you.

“Regardless it doesn’t concern you” You shook off his arm but remained planted in place, looks like you weren’t getting out of this as easily as you had hoped.

“You were crying on the floor” Anakin responded bluntly “that concerns me”

You shook your head and broke eye contact with him, feeling more pathetic than anything else.

“Look you can either tell me now or I can figure it out on my own but I’m not letting this go” Anakin sighed, crossing his arms over his chest “so just tell me what happened”

You glared up at the man, a familiar feeling of annoyance rising within you because you knew he wasn’t wrong. Anakin Skywalker was nothing if not relentless.

“My communicator was damaged in the fight” You explained with a huff finding your eyeline jumping to focus on just about anything other than Anakin’s eyes. “I missed the order to retreat and kept pushing forward instead”

Anakin’s whole body seemed to deflate before you with a sigh “How many troopers to did you lose?”

“None” You shook your head, crossing you arms almost defensively in front of you “That’s not the problem. I managed to get us all out. I’m being reprimanded for disobeying a direct order”

You could feel his anger spike through the carefully constructed wall immediatly “but you never got the order”

You could’ve laughed at the futility of it all. Right as he was that of course didn’t really matter “Order was sent, I didn’t obey that order, end of story”

Anakin shook his head “Well have you talked to your master maybe he can plead your case to the council”

At that you did laugh, a low defeated laugh that just escaped you before you could stop it “my master was the one who told the council I disobeyed”

You watched the confusion flash across his face because of course he didn’t get it, he got lucky, he got Obi-Wan a man who could be the posterchild for what was moral and just. You of course didn’t get so lucky. “It’s fine Anakin just drop it” You dismissed it, turning to walk away.

“But that’s not fair” You heard him call back at you over your shoulder.

“Yeah well that’s just the way it works” You replied with a shrug stalking off down the hallway, you could really use a nap after everything.

You had used his name. That was the first thing to tell Anakin something was really wrong. For about the last ten years you’d called him all sorts of things, sky boy, oh chosen one, a whole host of teasing nicknames but never once had he heard his name fall from your lips.

Until he found you crying on the floor.

And just like he’d never heard you say his name before he’d never heard you make that noise before either.

You were tough and not just in the physical sense. Yeah you had been able to take just about anything he could throw at you in training but also anything the other kids could throw at you. It was obvious from the time he had been brought in that you didn’t exactly get along with the other younglings. Like it or not you were a girl, a girl with an innate connection to the force and an uncanny ability to beat any of them in a fight. There were intimidated and they took it out on you and you took it all with your head held high.

So when he saw you crying on the floor he was ready to deck whoever had put you there no questions asked, his hands almost instinctively curling into fists at his sides.

Then you looked at him with your big sad eyes, a slight wobble in your voice from a lump you couldn’t quite clear, and you brushed him off.

No witty comment, no angry remark, just a total dejected dismissal. And he couldn’t help it, he just melted on the spot, watching a single stray tear snake its way down your cheek. And he wanted to be the one to wipe it away, to wipe every bad feeling away.

And it was fair that you pushed him away again. He knew he deserved it. He hadn’t exactly set himself up to be a guy you go to for comfort. But to be fair you never seemed like you needed one. You were constantly at the top, the person everyone went to for guidance and leadership, or at least he knows you were his first choice to be that person.

So if he couldn’t be there for you for comfort he would for every other sense. Because it wasn’t fair for you to take the blame for something that so clearly wasn’t your fault. You walked into a battle you weren’t even supposed to be in in the first place with no warning and managed to get every clone under your command out safely. If anything you deserved to be commended.

So he did the only thing he thought made sense, he went to Obi-wan.

It only occurred to him that that may not have been the right decision when you stormed up and kidnapped him from dinner. Roughly dragging him from the table he was eating at without a word into the empty hallway.

“Come on Y/N/N you know I prefer you buy me dinner beforehand” He didn’t know why he made the comment, regrets it the moment it slips out of his mouth. He had a long unfortunate history of saying the wrong things to you at the wrong times.

His comment has the expected effect as your expression grows even more angry, pushing him into a wall and holding him against it lightly with a hand on his chest.

“Did you talk to the council?”

His brain takes a moment to comprehend you question, an effect that seems to take hold of him whenever he’s in your vicinity only exasperated right now by your hand on his chest. Because even though you were clearly angry at him, and even though he was sure he somehow deserved it, you were yet again the only thing he could focus on. “I just explained what happened”

“Maker, Skywalker this wasn’t your situation to fix” You exclaimed angerly, pushing off of him and stepping back, running an angry hand through your hair.

“I got you off of library duty as punishment” He defended, anger slowly rising in him that he just couldn’t manage to push down. Afterall he had helped you how could you not see that?

“I didn’t ask you to” You yelled back at him. “You did nothing but undermine me to my master and the council”

“I was trying to help” Anakin yelled back anger rising and then falling as he watched you do nothing but shake your head at him dejectedly in response before turning on your heel and walking away.

And like after too many of his interactions with you Anakin was left feeling empty, regretting just about everything he had said.

You stalked back and forth in front of his door, talking yourself into and back out of knocking. You and Anakin had had fights before, your relationship was practically built upon them, but this one felt different, more personal.

For the first time you had opened up to Anakin, that was probably one of the deepest and longest conversations you had ever had with the man. And you don’t doubt he truly thought he was doing what was best but that didn’t stop your master from chewing you out after the fact. He notably wasn’t there to “fix” you being called a useless idiot unworthy of the jedi robes on your back. He had truly no right inserting himself into a situation he did not fully understand.

And before you could talk yourself out of it you were knocking on his door, coming face to face soon after with a very confused looking Anakin.

“Look” You sighed, ringing your hand awkwardly in front of you “Can we talk”

With a reluctant nod Anakin stepped back gesturing you inside. With a deep breath you took the invitation, strolling past him and taking a seat before you could lose any nerve. You’d never been inside of Anakin’s room before.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that” You apologized first, deciding beforehand that if you were to talk to him that would be the way to start “I know you were just trying to help but…” and you couldn’t help but pause, couldn’t help as you looked up at the man who had spent so long torturing you growing up, couldn’t help but wonder where it all went wrong “I just wanted to be you friend”

The shock and confusion was obvious on Anakin’s face and you were sure your face was a close match. The words slipped out before you could even think about them, but oddly enough you didn’t regret them, so you did the only thing you could think to do, you kept going.

“When we were eight” You explained, breaking eye contact with Anakin, not sure you could make it through what you wanted to say with him looking at you like that “You had to have seen how well I got along with the other kids. I just felt so…alone. And in comes this cute new kid and with him my hopes to finally make a friend. And you know what happened?”

With a sigh Anakin sat down next to you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees “I blew you off”

You shook your head softly “I just don’t get what happened. I met you and everything was fine, more than fine I thought we were going to be friends. We were laughing, talking. We hung out for like what a week? Two?. Then one day you were pulled into a training session with the rest of us and it was like I had punched you in the face with the grudge you seemed to hold over me. I just want to know what I did”

“You didn’t do anything wrong” Anakin was quick to assure you with a sigh, forcing himself to sit up straighter. You could practically feel him talk himself into the next words he wanted to say, pushing false confidence into himself. “Do you know how hard it is for me to think straight around you”

You nearly recoiled physically with your surprise. Of all the things you thought Anakin could say that was not one of them “What?”

“Back then, now, whenever I’m around you you are the only thing I can think about” His words came out quickly you growing more and more confused with each one “I find myself spacing out of everything else going on around me and just think about you. How beautiful you look, how wonderful you smell, I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re day’s like.” He took a deep breath, eyes only then breaking contact with the ground to meet yours “I can’t do that, I can’t drop everything else just because you walked into the room so I tried to push you away”

You shook your head “but you never really pushed me away. You were always there with some snide comment or some criticism”

A sad laugh laced Anakin’s voice as he responded “do you truly think there is any distance I could hold you at that would keep my thoughts from constantly returning to you?”

You just shook your head, your eyes bouncing in between his eyes you tried to draw any additional meaning from them “what are you saying?”

Anakin sighed, turning fully to take your hands into his, you barely even registering the contact at this point “I mean that even thought I know it’s against the code, and even though it makes my job exceptionally harder, I am totally and completely in love with you, and I have been since we were 8”

You opened your mouth to speak, stopping yourself as you realized you had no idea what to say, closing it again before opening once more“Ani I-“

He cut you off, not ready to hear you reject him yet, not ready to face the reality of the situation and choosing instead to stay in a period where you seemed to at the very least tolerate him. “And I’m saying that you can trust me completely when I say what happened wasn’t your fault”

Almost instinctually your eyes cut from his, not ready to face where you knew the conversation was headed next.

Instead, Anakin reached out, cupping your cheek softly and dragging your gaze back to his “you don’t deserve to be punished for mistakes that weren’t your own”

You could already feel the lump forming at the base of your throat, already forcing down deep breaths to steady yourself, refusing to let yourself do the easy thing and look away, instead opting to grab his hand off your cheek and clutch it in your own “But how do you know that?”

Anakin cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

And though try as you might you just couldn’t keep the wobble from your voice “how do you know it wasn’t my fault?”

You could see Anakin start to protest immediately but you just shook your head, sitting up slightly straighter commanding his attention with a big breath “he’s a Jedi master, who’s not to say he’s not right when he says I should have known, that I made the wrong decision, that there was a better way to go about my mission?” You could feel yourself starting to ramble, words rushing out of you as if trying to beat the tears “What if there were signs I missed, what if I should’ve felt something in the force, what if” you paused breathing in a heavy breath fighting down the uncomfortable tightness in your throat as you prepared to say the words you’d never spoken out loud before “what if I’m not cut out to be a Jedi”

“That’s absolutely absurd” the words were out of Anakin’s mouth seconds after you had finished your own “Do you know why it was so easy to get Obi-wan to listen to me when I told him what actually happened?” He didn’t even pause to give you a chance to answer “It’s because he already knew your masters story couldn’t be true, he already knew that you were better than disobeying a direct order. I don’t think he even trusts my abilities that much”

You tried to cut in, more fears and doubts coming to the surface though Anakin kept going, not giving you a moment to let your thoughts spiral any further.

“We’ve all known it since we were kids Y/N/N. You were always the one to beat, the one exceling in every training battle like it was nothing, the one with no issue connecting to the force. You deserve to be here more than anyone else, possibly more than even me”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, wiping tears threatening to spill over before they even got the chance. “It’s just hard” You tried to explain, reaching desperately for the right words “to be constantly told you’re wrong, inferior, undeserving by the very man meant to teach you”

“It’s why I wanted to help” Anakin sighed dejectedly “you deserve a master who acknowledges your skill, you walked into a battle you were unprepared for and overwhelmed in and still managed to get every one of your men out safely. That’s certainly not nothing”

You couldn’t even try to fight the smile that crossed your face, it was something you had been proud of to before your master had gotten to you. “Thanks skyboy”

A grin crossed the mans face at the sound of the use of his nickname, his posture relaxing for the first time since you had walked in.

“But I need to fight my own battles, stand up for myself”

“You know not all battles need to be a solo mission” Anakin responded slowly “there’s a certain strategy in having a partner you can rely on”

You smiled softly back at him “I know just…just can you talk to me first next time?”

Another grin spread on Skywalkers face and you nearly melted on the spot, a similar one slowly growing on your own face “next time?”

“I know we were only friends for a few weeks back when we were like 8 but I’ve missed you Ani” You admitted in a small voice “and I know its against the code, and it makes your job exceptionally harder, but I am totally and completely in love with you, and I have been since we were 8”

And before you could comprehend anything further Anakin’s had was cupping your cheek pulling you into him, your lips meeting his in a kiss you’ve been waiting on for nearly 10 years.

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iris-writesx · 5 months

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now that i’m grown i’m scared of ghosts | gentlebeard

read it here, or read it on ao3 <3

akdkwf i feel like this one is WAY worse than the last fic i posted, so everyone be nice about it. i wanted to write hurt-comfort so bad and i was thinking for ages about what to write, but then i realised i obviously had to inflict pain onto stede. go me :,)

but if anybody has any ideas for more fics like this please tell me!!! i’d love to get inspiration from other people <33

title is from “would've, could’ve, should’ve” by taylor swift x

2k words — hurt-comfort and whumpy, nightmare fic, mentions of stede’s trauma, panic attack, vomiting

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

He had never seen so much blood.

Of course, that was a hard statement to make as a pirate — but Stede wasn’t sure, now, if he had ever truly been one.

But he really hadn’t ever seen so much blood before. He didn’t even know that someone’s head contained so much of the stuff. He couldn’t look away.

Chauncey — or what was left of the poor sod, anyways — was splayed out on the floor in front of him, his head fired open by the gunshot, bleeding out into the damp greenery beneath him. Stede’s stomach lurched as he stared, but he couldn’t look away. Even as he heard himself scream — a deep guttural noise that he felt as it ripped itself from his chest — he couldn’t look away.

It was his fault. His fault.

People kept dying and it was because of him.

Nigel was dead, Chauncey was dead, Izzy had almost died, and he had essentially killed Blackbeard — “You even managed to bring history’s greatest pirate to ruin.” — and who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again-

Chauncey’s body shifted and Stede felt himself scream again, stumbling backwards. Just as he had seen visions of Nigel — impaled by his sword, talking to him — Chauncey lifted his head, or what was left of it, and Stede felt cold with the horror that flooded him, then, as Chauncey lifted the gun once more, aiming at him.

“The Stede Bonnet reign of terror ends toni-”

Stede was rigid as he flinched awake, his heart in his throat, breathing so rapidly that he was near on hyperventilating. It took him a moment to blink and recognise his surroundings, but it was the warmth of Ed beside him that grounded him. Asleep beside him, hugging most of the covers, Ed looked peaceful.

He didn’t even realise that he was crying until his chest hitched, painfully so, and Stede had to wipe his eyes as his vision blurred over with his tears. It wasn’t a conscious decision to get up and out of bed, he just started walking, out of the Captain’s quarters and out towards the deck.

He used to do it a lot, when he was a child. Sneaking out into the garden at night when he was upset to look at the stars. It always calmed him. A habit he had picked up again since going to sea, he went out when he was feeling upset to stargaze. Sometimes it helped. Distracted him enough from the plagues of his mind to calm down, and by the time he had named as many constellations as he could remember off the top of his head, he was calm enough to return to bed.

But as Stede reached the edge of the deck, gripped the railing with such a tight grip that his knuckles went white and his hands shook, he could tell that this time the stars wouldn’t help. In fact, being outside on his own probably made it worse. Stede gasped for air, sobs erupting up and out of his already sore chest, and he could do nothing but hold onto the railing and cry.

He felt like a child, and whenever he felt like a child, he thought of his father.

“A weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

He was right, annoyingly and embarrassingly so. If his father could see him now he’d just be disappointed. Ashamed. Regretful.

What had he become? A façade of a pirate who had nothing other than a string of deaths and mistakes haunting him.

He couldn’t even say that he had the accomplishment of being a father, after he had left Mary and the kids to chase his silly little dream. Of course, the second time he had left her he did it right, but he often thought about his old family sometimes, his children.

And Ed… he had messed up so many times on that front. Sure, now they were stronger than ever, they were something, but it didn’t change the fact that Stede had fucked up. He had left him, and Ed had become… become The Kraken, which in itself had caused so many unnecessary horrors.

Like Izzy’s leg…

Stede could remember the first time he had realised just what had happened. Saw the look on Izzy’s face — the grief — and realised that he had pushed Ed so far that he had hurt the person most devoted to him.

And that had been Stede’s fault. Because he had been so guilt-ridden after killing Chauncey.

…in a sick manner, he realised it all sort of came full circle.

Stede leaned further over the railing and his stomach actually lurched that time, his jaw clenching with the will to keep his dinner in his belly. After a moment he gasped around his tears, his face wet and cold, hands shaking, chest aching, lily-livered little rich boy.

“…mate, where are you?”

The distant call from inside the ship was registered, but Stede couldn’t make himself pull away from the railing. He was still making a poor attempt at choking back his sobs, and not throwing up, and it was all too much.

Would it have been better if Chauncey had successfully killed him that night?

“Stede! Fuck, man, I’ve been looking for you all over. Why’re you out here?” Ed’s voice was at that scratchy-deep tone it was at when he was sleepy, and where it usually filled Stede with fondness, it just piled up more guilt. He had woken him up, ruined his sleep. Now he’d have to comfort him.

“Just- just wanted some air!” Stede sniffled, not turning to face him. “Go back to bed, darling. Be there soon!”

Instead of hearing Ed comply, he heard boots knocking against the wood of the deck, growing louder and closer. “You alright, babe?”

The urge to accept the comfort was so strong, so strong he ached with it, but so much had been his fault and he wasn’t… he wasn’t deserving. Stede didn’t deserve anything good, he certainly didn’t deserve Ed.

Maybe Chauncey should have-

Stede did throw up that time. He gripped the railing even tighter, if that were possible, and leaned as far over the railing as he gagged, the contents of his stomach spilling out and into the ocean.

Ed was by his side in a second. His hand was on his back, a firm palm rubbing between his shoulder blades, and he knew Ed was talking, spoken comforts — not because he could hear him, just because he knew Ed. No, he couldn’t hear any of it, not over the throwing up or his sobbing or the sound of Chauncey’s gun firing in his memory or his father’s words or-

“Stede, hey, you’re alright, c’mere, I’ve got you.”

He only realised he was still hung over the railing just sobbing when Ed pried him off of it, away from the cold wood and into his arms instead. Ed was warm, and Stede was selfish as he clung to him, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

“Fuckin’ hell, man, you’re freezing? Why did you come out without shoes you nut? You’ll get sick.” Ed was being so kind — rubbing his back and talking to him and trying to warm him up — and all Stede could do was cry-

*“…lily-livered little rich boy-”*

It was after a minute or so that Ed must’ve realised something else was wrong. Stede felt his grip on him shift, hands on his shoulders instead, bringing him back enough so that Ed could see his face, and Stede could see his.

Ed deserved so much better.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” One of Ed’s hands cupped Stede’s face and the warmth was so nice, he nuzzled into his palm as he continued to cry. “Stede? You’re fuckin’ scaring me, man. Talk to me.”

His chest hitched, breaths nothing more than short sharp bursts, and he really did try to form a coherent explanation for his little tantrum, but all he could get out was a whimpered little sentence;

“I- I had a nightmare.”

Ed’s eyebrows scrunched — perceptive, his Ed was, he could probably tell that it wasn’t just a nightmare — but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he was just pulled into another hug, lips against his hairline, warmth surrounding him, and after another couple of minutes or so he felt like he could finally breathe.

It took him more time than that to calm down, but Ed was patient. He whispered soft comforts to Stede as he worked down from crying, until he could finally breathe smoothly, until there was merely silent tears tracking down his cheeks. Ed had been the only person to ever help like that when he cried. His father certainly had never done it, but then again, fathers weren’t supposed to be kind, were they?

…were they?

“Sorry,” was the first thing Stede murmured, the word muffled against the skin of Ed’s neck as he spoke, where he refused to pull his head from just yet. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t apologise for that shit,” Ed stroked his back again, kissed his hair. “Do you feel any better?”

Stede nodded, huffing out a breath. The breakdown really had taken a lot out of him, he felt so tired — his body lulled against Ed’s, head pounding, chest aching. He was actually feeling the cold, too — so much that he had started to tremble in Ed’s embrace, his teeth near chattering. Ed seemed to notice at the same time, as he wordlessly started to lead them both back inside, and Stede just silently went with him. He wanted nothing more than to lay down again-

Well, he wanted nothing more than to fix all of his past mistakes, all of his problems, but that would never happen. If anything, he’d just end up causing more someday.

His expression crumpled slightly, tears slipping faster down his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ed asked as he pushed the door to their bedroom open, ushering them both inside before he shut it again behind him. “The nightmare, I mean.”

He didn’t want to. Stede knew he’d have to explain it to Ed one day — Chauncey, what happened in the woods that night, what compelled him to go back to Mary. But he couldn’t say it yet, not when he would probably just get so worked up again.

Instead, he asked;

“Do you think it would’ve been better if I had died?”

Ed looked mortified. He froze stock-still, no longer walking them back towards the bed, and just stared at Stede for a moment.

“I just mean, I’ve had so many attempts on my life by now, surely I’ve got to give in sometime, right? Make it fair for everyone else?” He tried to joke, sensing Ed’s horror. But the sight of him — face red and blotchy, eyes teary, trembling — probably didn't help.

When Ed finally seemed to catch up with himself, he grasped Stede so desperately by the shoulders it shocked him. “Never fuckin’ say that again, okay?” Ed squeezed his shoulders again, and for a moment it looked like he might cry. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me so don’t- don’t say that.”

Stede’s eyes widened, once again feeling guilty. He was upsetting him. “I’m… I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, just… don’t say that. You’re fucking amazing-“

“I’m not.”

Ed scowled at him. “You are. You’re the best fuckin’ pirate out there, you hear me?” He brought Stede closer by the shoulders and kissed him, hard, his mouth hot and his urgency more pressing than any arousal that normally would’ve been in it’s place. “If you weren’t here, if you had died, it would’ve ruined my life, and everyone else’s on this ship. They need you. I… I need you,” one of his hands lifted, stroking Stede’s cheek gently. “Don’t say that, don’t… don’t even make me think about you not being here, okay?”

“Okay.” Stede’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, almost in shock. He had never had somebody care for him so violently before. It was foreign, but also selfishly felt so good.

…he was allowed this, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be happy?

“Tomorrow,” Ed started, only stopping to kiss him on the lips once more, just a gentle press. “We’ll talk about the nightmare, and what’s bothering you,” he kissed him again — kissed him until Stede hummed and nodded in agreement. “But tonight, I’m going to show you just how much you should be here.”

Stede was crying again, big fat tears that rolled down his cheeks, but he was smiling.

Maybe he didn’t believe that he was worthy of any of it, but Ed did. And if Ed did, then maybe — just maybe — Stede would some day have a chance or believing it too.

“I love you.” Stede’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew Ed heard it. Saw it in his smile.

Ed kissed him again, sighing. “Love you more.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

comments would mean the world <3 requests are open!

#our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death fanfic #our flag means fanfic #ofmd fanfic #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #stede bonnet x edward teach #edward teach x stede bonnet #blackbeard x stede #stede x ed #stede x blackbeard #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fanfic

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hozierandco · 3 years

Text

Henry Cavill x Reader / Lessons / SMUT

A/N: Henry has to learn how to play golf for a film but his teacher may teach him a bit more than golf. In which Henry is a clumsy cinnamon roll. Inuendos intended, sorry not sorry. SMUT: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, cursing, cumshot. Read at your own risk.

For the sake of a film in which he would play an aristocrat, Henry had to know how to play golf. He had agreed to it though he never had one single piece of knowledge on the matter.

Him who had done life-endangering stunts was not going to abandon for golf. He had three weeks before the beginning of the set and had decided to spend his holidays at a golf resort off in Scotland where he was determined to master the skills to that sport.

Y/N had been working at the Baurheid Club for the past five summers. The rest of the year, she lived in Glasgow but since her uncle was the club's manager and since she knew all about golf, she kept on working there.

The season was about to start and she was in charge of giving private classes for top-notch clients. Her rock solid privacy was celebrated by all and she was the perfect fit to deal with bankers and members of the idle class. An actor was about to complete the list.

"Y/N, here's the list of your clients for the next week"

Three names as each client required all attention. Quality over quantity was the motto of the club on that regard. The second one rang a bell to Y/N: Henry Cavill.

"Why does that name sound familiar? We've already have him, perhaps?" Y/N asked to Olivia who was welcoming the clients in the resort and who happened to be a close friend to Y/N.

"He's an actor, you fool" she replied in a moment of rest from the wave of clients "A handsome one too, lucky you!"

Instead of rejoicing along with Olivia, Y/N just hoped he was not the megalomaniac kind and that he wouldn't be a nightmare to work with. She went on with her day, many things had to be fixed before her first classes the next day.

Henry arrived by the entrance desk where Olivia acknowledged him and welcomed her just like any other client, in spite of her shouting internally. He had packed the bare minimum so his installment was brief.

The next day, it was almost noon when he woke up so he took himself out to the cafeteria.

Y/N had finished her first class of the day with a young member of the Dutch royal family and was gaining back the main accomodatio, up to the staff's lunch room. She had not changed clothes as she was not to meet any client.

Or so she thought.

"Oh, come on now!" Y/N heard someone grunting in her back as she was about to open the door to the place where she had left her food. She turned around only to see a frustrated Henry Cavill.

"May I help you, sir?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please!" Henry jumped on the occasion "I'm looking for the lunch room but I always end up in this corridor... It's a bloody labyrinth there", he added holding back a nervous laugh.

Henry came back from his frustration as his misery was coming to an end with Y/N's arrival and that's on his way back that he noticed just how splendid Y/N was.

"Please, let me be your guide"

"Thank you very much. By the way, I'm Henry"

"And I'm Y/N", she responded making the connection with the photograph of Henry Olivia had shown her on her phone.

Along their journey to the lunch room, the two of them made some small talk while Y/N had to keep her composure. Olivia was right, he was bloody handsome. Even more so that on any photograph. And besides, he was visibly not a douche but an angel, making her feel at ease early on in their conversation.

As they arrived by the cafeteria filled with expensive furniture, the actor accompanied his "thank yous" with an offer: "I'm all alone at the resort, I could use some company for the lunch"

It was tempting if it wasn't for the fact that Y/N and the whole staff wasn't allowed to eat with the clients.

"Oh I see..." Henry said as Y/N explained the situation "But what if it's the client's decision. Isn't the customer always right?" he completed, glad he had found this trick to make her stay.

"Well, I suppose that it's the rule, yeah..." Y/N had been upset to decline the offer but she figured that indeed, she could stay a little while. Besides, the cafeteria was big enough for her not to be seen by anyone.

"It's a yes, then?"

"Yes, it is"

"So, what do you do here anyway?" Henry asked her as he came back from the buffet.

"I'm a golf instructor"

"Well, in that case, I'll probably see you on the green"

"About that, I should probably tell you that I'm the one who's gonna take care of your lessons for as long as you stay"

"I cannot wait. Though I should apologise in advance"

Y/N quizzed him by fixing his eyes. Shit, those eyes... Don't stare, don't stare, Y/N thought.

"I'm probably the worst golf player in Britain"

***

"You want to hold it like that" Y/N informed the way to seize the putter as she placed herself behind the impressive stature she had in front of her.

She could not believe that she was giving in the cliché of being glued to get someone to play golf.

Henry had not exaggerated, he indeed was pretty bad. In fact, he lacked of coordination and Y/N had to constantly remind him of how he was supposed to swing his body.

"May I?"

"Yes!" Henry was relieved to hear that he would get more help from her as she suggested than she could grab his arms to show the move.

She took his arms by the elbows. Henry being in a polo, she could feel all of his muscles under her touch.

"There, that's right! You've got the move. Now try to hit the ball"

And Henry executed himself but failed to even graze it. He snickered and then gave in a frank laughter that Y/N echoed.

"Right, you're gonna need to spend more time with me, Mr. Cavill"

"It's all I'm dreaming of. Dinner with me tonight in the garden?"

The class ended and for Y/N, it meant the beginning of her third and last class of the day.

As it was only 4 pm, Henry joined the games room where he had a view on the green where Y/N was helping an old lady to practice.

Of course, Y/N was too busy to notice him but it didn't stop him to smile like a child at her.

He was admiring her grace and her air of benevolence when a man came to him "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Henry nodded at the stranger who in turns carried on "It must run in the family"

As Henry took his eyes oof of Y/N to see whom he was talking to, the stranger introduced himself "I'm Max, the club's manager. Y/N's uncle"

"Oh! How do you do? I'm Henry"

Max nodded, knowing very well who his select guest was.

"Is she a great teacher to you?"

"For sure. It's just that I'm a terrible pupil"

Max laughed along with Henry "Ah, son, she'll make a great player out of you"

The dinner happened. Henry had changed into another polo paired with camel chinos.

Y/N too had changed into a strapless floral dress with brown sandals. She greeted Henry as she sat down in the grass on which Henry had displayed a basket of fruits.

They started drinking and talking as the moon rose in the sky.

"I've talked with your uncle this afternoon"

"Oh have you? He's quite something, isn't he?"

"That he is. According to him, you're the greatest teacher out there"

"And you doubt it?"

"I'll try to be as good as a lamb for you"

After dinner, Y/N suggested that they take a walk around the resort. Any way to make the night last longer was worth seizing.

Everything was calm. No one around. Under their feet, the grass was slightly wet as dew had started forming and tinting their shoes.

Y/N took off her shoes, soon followed by Henry who had not done something as spontaneous as throwing a picnic in a very long time.

With their shoes in their hands, they carried on walking on the grass as crickets were going for a symphony and more and more windows got dark afar.

"It's been ages since I hadn't spent a lovely night like that" Henry sighed with pleasure "but that being said, I should hit my bed if I want to be at the top of my performance for my strict instructor"

The two of them had gotten very close to one another "If I stay now, I'm staying the whole night" Henry commented as Y/N's lips were dangerously close to his.

"I would let you" Y/N replied.

***

Henry and Y/N had met regularly apart from the times set for the classes over the last two weeks and if Henry had barely gotten better, the two of them had grown fond of the other. They had kissed on the fourth night, but both of them were not craving for more. Henry did not wish to rush things, nor did Y/N though the tension became unbearable.

"Do you think your uncle would kick you out if you spent the night at my room tonight?" Henry ventured as the class was over, wishing that he could kiss her right there, on the green.

"I wouldn't mind being kicked out if it meant spending the night with you" Y/N answered as she put back the clubs in the trolley.

After they finished eating at their favourite spot, Henry seized Y/N's hand and together they traveld to his room.

As Henry opened the door, he preceded Y/N,cupping her face with his hands to make her follow him in the suite.

He shut the door behind her and took her in his arms, only letting go on her after having carefully laid her on the bed.

"It is my turn to teach you a lesson, baby", he purred in her ear as he had let his lips wander from her legs to her face.

He placed his body over Y/N's but suddenly he got repentant and cursed "Fuck, I came here with nothing..."

Of course, Henry had no plans of making love to his instructor when he had booked holidays at the resort and found himself caught off guard, without protection for the night.

"In my purse" Y/N told him where to look.

"You might just be the most prepared teacher ever"

"Just grab it" Y/N begged him as he was going for encores, giving another sequel of kisses to her skin.

Henry ripped the scabbard and took his apparel out of his trousers, dressing it for the occasion.

Gracious God! There was lot to look at...

Fully erect, Henry came back in bed where Y/N was trying her best not to stare at the length.

"You sure about this?" Henry inquired as he aligned himself.

"Never been more sure in my whole life"

Henry then slid his member, inch by inch to be sure that Y/N was coping with what she was given.

He was just half through when it began to hurt.

"It's alright, doll!" Henry consoled her "I'm sorry, I'll go slow, I promise"

Henry found his way out as he had an idea to ease the process. Y/N still under him, he got down on her and made a feast of the flesh flashing before his eyes.

There was no doubt: he was much better at this than with golf.

As Y/N looked down at the face that had found shelter between her legs, she noticed just how dedicate he was. He was giving it all the attention required.

His eyes were glistening by the feeble light above their head.

Henry's cock was beating a rhythm of its own, pleased at it was that Henry was able to make Y/N moan with just his tongue and fingers.

The resort was known for "its quiet nights" and "tranquil setting" but tonight, Henry was eager to go off the rails.

It did have the expected effect on Y/N since her lair had gotten damp. Henry let her come back from the mountain she had climbed before he dived inside.

This time around, the whole length got in no sooner said than done.

"You're just so gorgeous!" Henry articulated with difficulty as he was carrying his moves, putting more energy by every second that went by.

Y/N's fingers borrowed the path drawn by his torso which was dripping with sweat "You're one very good student. And a very hot one too"

Henry's heart was pounding in his chest as he lifted Y/N's legs to put them by each side of his spine. That way, he reached a new spot with the tip of his penis which made Y/N pant with his name on her lips.

"Henry!" she cried her lungs out through the dark of the night. The tranquil nights long gone.

"Come for me, doll!"

She didn't have to hear twice as she was unleashing her falls.

But Henry was insatiable. Though teased twice by the sight of Y/N coming for him, his cock was still showing no sign of weakness.

He was willing to let go of her lover to give her some rest while he would take care of himself but Y/N stopped him as he was about to take off the condom.

"I wouldn't mind a third lesson" she told him "Let's change the angle. Show me how your swing's going. As for your stamina, Mr. Cavill, it got much better"

Y/N got on all fours, spreading her legs for Henry to come up behind her. As he entered the well, Y/N stretched herself so that she in turn allowed more of Hnery to get in and out.

Henry was admiring the view as he held Y/N by her hips, pounding her.

In and out, fast at first, the sounds of his cock hitting the bottom of her cunt.

Then Henry who got tired of the the action - and who was not going to hold it back for very much longer as Y/N's moans were rushing his climax - got slow, savouring every second he had ahead of him before he would come too.

Sensing that Y/N was close to get her third orgasm as she got tight around his cock, he decided for her to come to do so as well, and hoped that it would arrive soon.

She did come, shouting and laughing as she came back.

"I don't want you to come in that. I want to see you coming for me, Henry"

Henry then quickly removed the piece of latex which was soiled with pre-cum. The sole fact of taking it off almost made him come.

Henry kneeled on the bed by the level of Y/N who was laying down and emptied himself on her stomach.

"I cannot wait for our next class" Henry said in a sigh as he rested his limbs by Y/N.

#henry cavill #imagines #henry cavill imagines #smut #oops i guess #mind that i wrote smut in the train for the sake of science #henry cavill x reader

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years

Text

God-Fearing Faith

Can also be read on AO3 here

Word Count: 5.7k

Description: In the Great Celestial War, torn between Lucifer and his Father, Simeon chose not to fight. That comes with its own consequences. There's a reason Simeon's greatest fear is his own Father.

[cw: body horror, abusive parent, PTSD]

This was, of course, always going to have been the outcome.

He had made his choice. As soon as he heard that Lucifer was planning on rebelling, he had made his choice. It was not an easy choice, or a simple one, but it was his choice nonetheless.

Alas, they say that neutrality is the side of the oppressor, but a tyrant never sees it that way.

"You did this to yourself," Michael reminds him disapprovingly.

Simeon stands at the center of the Council of Seraphs, awaiting a judgment that was already preordained before he ever stepped in the room. They will convict him, because there is no other option - their Father has demanded it. The trial is merely a formality.

He did not plead his case. There is no point in trying, after all. Father will not listen, and the other seraphs will never listen to another angel over God. Lucifer had just proven that, hadn't he? And maybe he had chosen wrong - maybe, all in all, he should have chosen Lucifer's side. Because it wasn't as though he hadn't been asked, and oh, how Simeon had longed to stay with his fellow seraph, his closest friend who was like a brother to him.

But between a brother and a father, he chose neither, praying quietly that it could end in peace.

Yet, who do you pray to for peace when God himself is party to war? What higher power could he have appealed to when the highest power in existence was one of the ones at fault?

Though he cannot bring himself to regret his decision, he feels the slightest twinge of regret for not supporting Lucifer more. At least, if Lucifer had won, he wouldn't have ended up here now, standing trial for not being loyal enough to their Father.

Simeon stares Michael in the face, and reminds him that he too loved and adored Lucifer not too long ago. That he still does, no matter how he votes in this trial. That, after everything, Lucifer is still precious to all of them. He knows it, and so does Simeon, and so do all the seraphs in this room. All of them still deeply love Lucifer. Even now. No matter what they say.

Michael's expression twists with anger. How dare Simeon say such things in front of their Father.

With a vengeful sneer, he reads the judgement firmly, steadily - "With unanimous votes from the Council of Seraphs, we do hereby declare you, Simeon, angel of devotion, guilty of desertion and treason. For your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to demotion - from Seraph, to Cherub, to Throne, to Dominion, to Virtue, to Power, to Principality, and finally, to Archangel. The ceremony shall be performed two moons from today, in this room, at the highest point of the sun. You may not appeal this decision. You are dismissed."

And so it has to be. This has always been, after all, the only possible ending.

Well before the ritual has even begun, Simeon feels himself burning. He repeats a prayer, day after day, for two long months - praising the glory of God, worshipping his light, acknowledging his greatness.

Begging for peace and mercy, again. Because that worked so well before, right?

But there is nothing else he can do when the burning begins. So he prays.

“Master, now dismiss your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation and for glory.”

When the day arrives, the chill of the chamber feels like the coldest he's ever been. It isn't, not really, but after two months of flickering heat burning on and off within him, it's strange to be left cold this way. But he relishes the cool air while he can, because he knows what's coming.

Uriel gives him an almost pitying look as he wraps the chains around his disgraced colleague. For a split second, it almost looks like he wants to say something - but the look is gone as quickly as it came, and he retreats quickly back to his place in the circle. And Simeon is left alone in the center, wrists and torso bound in ropes of thick gold chains.

He looks defiantly at his Father, positioned directly before him in the circle. No matter how he thought it over in these past months, still he did not regret his decision. So he would stand by it. The punishment is coming either way, so he might as well be proud of the choice he made.

His Father glares back.

You will regret defying me, his voice echoes in Simeon's mind.

With a wave of his hand, the ceremony begins.

The seraphs kneel, pouring holy water into an intricate pattern engraved in the ground, which glows with magic as the liquid flows down to the center of the circle. It feels cool against Simeon's bare feet, for the moment at least.

Michael steps forward to recite the prayer chant:

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The seraphs clasp their hands together in a circle, locking the magic into the ceremonial space, and repeat the chant back.

At once, his Father's heavenly fire strikes him, a pillar of light beaming down upon him and spreading through his body. All six wings of fire burst from his back against his will, stretching out their full length as if to try to escape from the blast. He feels his form contort; his brown hair shifts to a snakeskin halo of spikes; his face melts away to reveal the twisting golden rings of his true angelic form. It travels down to his feet, absorbed by the holy water, which burns at his soles as though he is standing on coals. The gold chains, too, absorb the searing heat of the fire, and as he strains against his bindings in pain, it only serves to etch the curves of the chains into his body.

His eyes, normally covered modestly by his wings, ignite with the fire as it spills through him, but still, his Father maintains his cruel gaze, and even without eyes, it is all Simeon sees.

The heavenly fire has engulfed his entire form now, and he gasps at the sudden weight as his wings turn to molten rock. They rip themselves from his back, crashing behind him with a reverberating thud against the marble floor, and his shoulder blades expand behind him, tearing themselves out of his back to create four new wings of feathers and steel. Under the chains, his arms become metallic themselves, as do his chest and neck. He tries to scream, but there is only fire in his lungs, and it travels through his throat, tearing through every part of his head. When he feels a mouth to close again, it is not one mouth, but four - the four faces of the cherubim.

After what feels like hours but was surely only a few minutes, the fire drains into the holy water beneath him. He gasps, finally able to breathe, as his many faces and wings draw themselves back into his body. Everything in him aches at the transformation.

His Father's cold eyes are still locked with his.

The seraphs pour fresh holy water to the ground and begin the chant again:

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

It hurts no less the second time - the fire smiting him down, drawing back out the form that had just folded itself into him. His face tears into four; his wings again force their way from his back. His legs buckle beneath him, forcing him to the ground before burning away entirely. The metal of his hands breaks apart into floating shards, and thin wheels of gold extricate themselves from the gold plates of his waist. His vision blurs as hundreds of new eyes burst open upon the wheels, every single one trained on his Father's own unforgiving gaze as he watches the angel morph again. He feels the melting of the metal in his new wings, and feels with anguish the searing of the metal against the feathers of the same, as both shift shape to rounder wings that wrap the fire all around him.

Vaguely, Simeon can hear the echoing roar of his own lion's face as it is engulfed by the flames, followed by the eagle's caw, and the human scream. The ox face left behind stretches into a sphere of hollow rings of gold, and yet more eyes merge their way into his vision.

And then, in a flash, cold hits his skin, the fire retreating into the holy water as suddenly as it had come, pulling all his ophanic features back into his human-like form.

His father's contemptuous stare continues to bore into him.

Are you still so defiant now?

Is he? With the dizzying slew of transformations, Simeon can hardly think straight to even consider the question. His mind is still catching up to the vision of one thousand eyes bursting into existence across his body. His head is throbbing, and trying to cradle it in his hands only leads to the still-hot metal chains searing marks into his wrists.

What he does know for certain, however, is that his Father is far from done. Seraph, to Cherub, to Throne, to Dominion, to Virtue, to Power, to Principality, to Archangel. Step by step, stage by stage, the demotion ceremony would continue. There is still a long, long way to go.

As if reading his mind - and knowing his Father, he probably is - the ritual begins again.

Holy water. Hands clasping. The same prayer, again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The third time, he releases himself easily to the fire, giving in to it at once as it draws out his chariot-like Throne form, but it doesn't burn any less all the same. Wheels, rings, eyes - all dissolving to the flames, blasting apart and falling from his form.

For a moment, fire is all he is - no body, no mind, only soul and blazing heat. And then the pyre takes shape - brilliantly burning stars for arms, a halo of embers, sparks shifting constantly in his belly. His hands twist long and thin - one into a sword, the other to a sceptre, planetary orbs swirling into existence at opposite ends of each. A mass of dark matter settles as his face, and tiny galaxies piece themselves together beneath him for legs.

Simeon grasps helplessly at balance, trying to stabilize a form made of formlessness. He can feel himself spilling out of himself and coming back together, pulsing without edges, and all the while still - burning, burning, burning. Wet tears form but are immediately lost in the void of his shapelessness.

When he is abruptly returned again to human form, he is thankful just to feel himself contained within a definite body again, grateful to feel the warm wet streaks as the tears welling at the edges of his eyes roll down solid cheeks.

Yet, again, still trapped with the other definite - the harsh stare of his Father.

Any strength left in his legs leaves him, and he collapses to the ground, ignoring the pain as his wrists pull against the hot gold of the chains yet again. On his chest, too, the metal constricts against him as he frantically gasps for air.

It's almost a surprise to him that they give him this moment to recover - though, having been a seraph himself as recently as an hour ago, he knows it's purely out of strict adherence to the rules of the ritual, not out of any kind of sympathy for him.

When he pulls himself together enough to stand again, Michael motions to Uriel. Three levels down, which means he has fallen to the Middle Order already. Time to adjust the bindings accordingly.

"I'm sorry," Uriel whispers quietly to him, maintaining expressionlessness as he wraps new, thinner chains around him, reaching further along his arms and chest than before.

Bitterly,Simeon thinks to himself that there is no apologizing for this - it was voted upon, and it was unanimous. But he knows, too, that the other seraphs had no choice either. Their Father had demanded this verdict, and none of them could ignore a direct order from him.

Doing so was, after all, precisely why Simeon himself was in this situation now.

So without breaking eye contact with their Father, he responds simply, "Don't be. Or you'll be next."

His former peer completes the rest of his work in silence, and as soon as he resumes his place in the circle, the ritual begins again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Going from Dominion to Virtue is an almost welcome reprieve, relative to the earlier transformations. Fire strikes him down again, but Simeon braces himself this time for the feeling of nothingness as the edges of himself fall away, galaxies and empty space bursting from inside him. A million stars explode into existence along his body, then explode again out of it, the black holes left behind dancing with the heavenly flames coursing through him.

Gradually, the fire slows and hardens. The light of embers flickers through cracks in molten rock left behind along his core. His wrists, too, tremble with new mass as crags form beneath the chains, connected to his shoulders only by stormy flashes of lightning. Dark clouds fill his form like billowing smoke, and he almost feels like he will choke on his own existence. Blinding rings of light wrap themselves along his limbs like snakes. He is at once heavy and weightless, dark and light, chained and unmoored.

In this confusing contradiction of his newest form of existence, Simeon is almost glad for the holy fire and icy glare of his Father. He clings to them as his anchor, however painful of one to hold onto, lest his mind drift too far away and leave him entirely. Or is it better to lose himself by letting go, than to focus on the pain? He isn't sure, but he's not certain that he will come back to himself if he doesn't hold on. So he clings to the thread of stability he has, embracing the burning as best he can.

It makes it all the more jarring when the heavenly flames abruptly retreat again, leaving him solid and cold, everything around him a blur except his Father. The sudden chill sends an involuntary shiver through him, echoed by rattling chains reverberating through the chamber.

He shuts his eyes, tries to reorient himself. Deep breaths. Halfway through now. Just three more, and it will be done. His fall from grace will be complete, and he'll be free. Or at least, as free as the angels ever are, given their roles as God's warriors and messengers. But he'll be out of this ceremony, freed of these chains. And...then what? A low-level grunt worker, to be bossed around by all his former equals in this room?

Maybe that's a good thing. At least, that's what he tries to tell himself. True, a demotion is a demotion, and he'll have less power available to him, less respect from the other angels. Less freedom to do as he pleases. But in truth, can he say he's ever had that much freedom? Isn't that why he's here now? Because he never really had that freedom in the first place - just the space to do the things his Father approved of, which had just happened to be the same things he'd wanted to do, until now. And at least, once his full demotion is complete, perhaps the freedom he loses in the work he does will be a worthwhile exchange for being freed of the pressures of being a seraph, from being always close to their Father and his strict command.

That's what he thinks, at least, until he opens his eyes again and sees his Father still staring down at him.

There is no escape from me, his Father's voice taunts in response, and Simeon isn't quite sure whether the voice in his head is actually sent by his Father or just created from his own fear.

Regardless, another half of the ceremony is still to come, and so it must continue.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Heavenly fire comes down, and his insides ignite once more. His legs stretch and split apart into glowing rings; his arms turn stormy again. His chest hardens back to molten rock, tightening against his attempts to breathe before breaking apart, leaving trails of flame and lava dripping down through the rings of light below. The dark clouds throughout his form catch fire as well and burn away to steam and smoke.

His shape changes less drastically now as his rank falls lower and lower, yet the heavenly fire lingers longer this time. The transformation aches through him, new pieces stretching and pulling themselves into place.

Slowly, thin metal plates emerge through the fire and settle as his new face, locking his expression to neutrality - as if mocking the neutrality he'd tried to take in the war. More sheets of steel fold themselves together into layers of a round shield for a torso. A ring of eyes opens along the outer border of the shield, confusing his vision again, along with six larger eyes in a circular pattern around the center. It takes his mind a moment to catch up to processing all of them, trying to orient to so many new perspectives all turned to different directions. Thorns prick all over as two long rose stems grow from his chest, wrapping themselves around his neck, and another eye opens at the center of each flower. Sharp golden wings extricate themselves from his back, and a harsh golden halo slices in an arc behind his head.

Simeon clenches his fists as the flames travel through him, clinging to his insides and pulling his new form gradually, painfully back in. Unlike the previous times, it holds onto him on its way down to the holy water this time. He feels every inch of his wings scraping against his returning flesh as they drag themselves back inside his body, as with the rest of the form.

It's strange - angel transformations are usually instant. They aren't meant to be this slow.

That's when it sinks in that this isn't just rote punishment for law's sake - it is spite. He lifts his gaze again to see that his Father's cold expression has not changed at all, but there is wrath in those eyes. He can feel fury emanating from the light that always surrounds him.

Simeon has never heard of their Father drawing out a punishment for vengeance's sake before. This ceremony, the entire demotion process, was always just a ritual that was part of a judgment given for the sake of upholding a realm of law and obedience. But then, their Father had also never personally weighed in on a trial to tell the seraphs what way to vote until this, either. And there is no mistaking the anger coming from him now.

All for choosing neutrality...?

No, that's not it. It's not for choosing neutrality; it's for not choosing against Lucifer. The realization dawns on him - this isn't about him, never was about him or his refusal to fight. It is about Lucifer. It is about their Father's most beloved angel until the war, rebelling against him. It is about the fact that the war that ensued was the first time any of the angels had ever really questioned their Father's rule. It is about reminding everyone in this room of his power as the unmistakable, undeniable ruler of the Celestial Realm.

This is not about punishing Simeon. It is about punishing Lucifer.

And for the first time since his trial began, Simeon is truly, deeply afraid. He had known that the punishment for his refusal to fight would be intense and painful, but he had prepared himself for that when he made his decision in the first place. But to be a proxy for punishment against Lucifer for rebelling, now that the Morning Star himself was out of reach, fallen to the Devildom?

But the realization has come far too late, and there are two more rounds of this still to go.

New holy water flows down to his feet, and the seraphs begin the chant again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The heavenly fire burns hotter this time than any of the ones before, and in the fog of pain, the knowledge that the last one will only be worse briefly flits across his mind. But his thoughts are quickly pulled away by what is now a slow, excruciating transformation back into the form that had just left him moments ago.

His wings cut their way out of his back again like jagged knives, hot from the blazing heat pushing them from his body. They quickly melt away as they exit him, dripping molten streaks of metal down his back, as do the sheets of steel making up his shield-like frame. The liquid metal snakes its way down him, hardening back into rough shards cutting against his feet as they reach the holy water below. His neck feels choked with prickling flames as the blaze travels up the thorny stems of the roses growing from his chest, framing his face with fire.

The chains binding him stretch and grow, twisting themselves up his arms and wrapping his torso in a constricting suit of armor that feels more like it's meant to squeeze the life out of him than protect him. Each ring burns itself against his newly reforming skin beneath, merging into his flesh - it is not actually armor, after all, but a part of his own body. The metal continues threading its way up him, wrapping his neck, his face, his hair, until it grows past him into a twisting, tulip-shaped crown atop his head. From the flames at his core, jewels start pushing their way out of him, each one piercing him on its way out, and they spin together into a blinding orb in front of him. From his fingertips, thin needles of yet more metal prick as they join the gems, sending a reverberation of eerie music through the hall as they merge to form a long, thin scepter.

Simeon can feel his mouth being pried open by the flames, or perhaps it is being burned away entirely - in the shifting uncertainty of transformation, he's not quite sure which. Against his will, his voice joins the echoing notes of the scepter, until the sounds accumulate and stretch into haunting shriek.

And then, all at once, the flames leave him, the form of Principality leaves him, the scepter and the armor and everything leave him - and he is left standing, alone, silent, cold, enchained, mouth still agape with the memory of the sounds that had just moments before been wrenched from his throat.

He gasps for air, shuts his eyes as he readjust his vision from the now-gone blinding light of the jeweled scepter. Phantom pinpricks still tingle at his stomach, and for a moment, he almost thinks he's going to vomit. Still, he hangs on to the barest shred of dignity and composure until the feeling passes, and waits for the pain of everything to subside.

When he opens his eyes again, he meets the gaze of his Father in almost a plea. Stop this. Please. I am not Lucifer. Lucifer is gone.

But if his Father can hear the begging of his thoughts, as he seemed to hear him earlier, he doesn't show it. He doesn't respond at all, merely staring Simeon down with the same ice cold stare he's held this entire time. And the ceremony continues.

Michael waves to Uriel, who steps forth to replace the chains again. Simeon is down to the Lower Order now, the last and lowest ranks of angels. Redundant as it feels to replace his bindings, given all the transformations that have already happened, the ritual demands it.

Uriel doesn't meet his eyes this time - despite his remorse, he keeps in mind Simeon's earlier words of warning. But he can't quite bring himself to do this with pride, either. Just earlier that day, they had still been colleagues and equals. It's a cold reminder that no matter how strict or obedient any of them are, their Father is the ultimate in charge, and they are all only one displeasure away from the same fate. Likewise, Simeon avoids eye contact, neither ashamed nor proud of his current state.

The chains are even more slender now, almost elegant in the way they snake around his wrists. As a seraph, he could have broken these new chains easily, but now as a principality, they're more than enough to hold him. Deep inside, he can still feel the great well of power within him, but as if a glass cloche sits in the way, he knows instinctively that he can't summon any of that strength anymore. He will never be able to again.

Somewhere, just as deep inside, he starts to question whether he even wants to - to access the strength given him by the one now putting him through all of this.

He pushes the feeling far away though. He should be grateful that, following the war, he wasn't equally cast out of the Celestial Realm, shouldn't he? Those who had fallen, they were informed, had met a far worse fate. Lucifer and his brothers flit across his mind; though he wasn't close with all of them, he wonders if they are okay. Lucifer, at least, proud and full of conviction, surely must have made it out with his head held high as ever, right? What fate had befallen him worse than this, that Simeon was experiencing now...?

When Uriel finishes and retreats back to his place, Simeon hangs his head down, giving up on his silent begging to his Father. It's clear at this point that there is no mercy coming. Their father does not forgive; he condemns.

Until the war, Simeon had really believed that his condemnations were right and just.

But are they, after all? Can he truly believe it anymore? He had understood Lucifer well enough, but...he had really believed that trusting their Father was the right way to go. That Lucifer's rebellion was wrong. That their Father was, always, in all cases, correct, and that there was a reason for everything he did.

The cool brush of holy water at his feet pulls him back from his dark thoughts.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Even the heavenly fire seems to come slower, now on this final time. His Father's eyes, though still coldly distant and unreadable, almost seem to shine with the voraciousness of his vengeance.

The flames lick at his face like hounds hungry for a meal.

In the pain, time seems to slow to a stop.

And then it does. It stops. Everything stops. He doesn't feel the chain metal armor searing itself back into his skin, or the gems pulling themselves through his body. Everything falls away; all becomes just a bright, white brilliance. Simeon feels weightless.

Is this it? Has his Father abandoned the ceremony after all? Is this...

No, a booming inner voice answers him. You won't die. That's too soft for an angel like you.

"Father?" he calls back silently. His eyes would have widened, if he'd had feeling left of them to widen. So it was true, his Father could hear every one of his thoughts.

And yet, he had ignored Simeon's begging for this to stop.

I told you that you would regret defying me.

"Father, I-I'm sorry. I thought - Lucifer is so precious to us. He was acting on what he believed in. I know that he was wrong, but -"

Yes, he was. And you, Simeon. You are an angel, one of my children, my creations. And yet you dared defy me. Pathetic.

He almost wishes he could summon the courage to defy his Father again, but he is too exhausted from round after round of transformation. Instead, he feels only sorrow. For Lucifer. For the other angels that fell. For himself.

You still don't understand your lesson? Troublesome child, Lucifer wouldn't listen either. I've removed him. Miserable wretch as you are, you will learn. You ought to be more grateful I chose not to eject you too.

Darkness floods his blinded vision, and Simeon sees himself in his mind's eye. His reflection smiles sweetly at him, before its eyes widen. Its mouth twists into a scream, expression more pained even than the shrieks pulled from him in his last transformation, but rather than sound coming out, shadows spill inwards, consuming him.

As if in answer, Simeon's own soul suddenly twists equally in pain, choking on a flood of umbra enveloping him from inside, until he's unsure if the image before him is a reflection or just him seeing himself from the outside. The dusty taste of ash and soot covers his tongue, as a fire unlike the clean holy flames chokes him from within - the smoke of hellfire.

Feathers, light and dark both, explode in bursts through his body. Flurries of new wings extrude themselves from his back, pulling patchwork marble patterns in jagged edges, fighting with each other for dominance as they clash in their growth. He feels his face split into two, one side drawing the hoop of a thin metal crown behind him, while a thin horn twists out from the other and loops back over to pierce his cheek. Scattered across his hands, fingers stretch into sharp, wicked claws, while his palms turn to pure light.

Though this twisted form is removed from his actual, physical body, the heavenly fire burns harshly against him still, and harsher yet upon his new demon-like features, incinerating them away almost as quickly as they emerge from his body. His angelic elements fare hardly better, as the hellfire within him eats away at them.

And all the while, his Father's voice hums tauntingly in his mind.

Feeble excuse for an angel, you are blessed to still hold my power. Do not forget who made you. I created you, gifted you with my divine power, and I can wipe you from this existence. And it will make not a shred of difference, for I shall make another, one more obedient, who understands his place...unless, my child, you submit now. Surrender yourself back to my command, and I shan't destroy you completely. Or this will be the last of your miserable, wretched life.

Amidst the pain, the infinity of nonexistence blankets despair upon his mind in threat, an incomprehensible emptiness.

It's too much. He is not able - was not created to be able - to endure all of this agony. An infinite void, heavenly smiting, darkness corrupting, all at once - his whole soul feels on the verge of collapse.

"I swear, Father!" Simeon cries. "Please, anything! Anything you ask, I'll obey! Forgive me, please...!"

It feels like another eternity before his Father murmurs his satisfaction, letting the frozen moment fall away back to the reality of the seraph council's chamber.

The rest of the transformation ritual proceeds as before, though after the jumbled, aching blending of transforming into both angel and demon at once, turning to an Archangel feels as though it passes quickly by comparison. When the last of the fire extinguishes upon the holy water at his feet, and the chains release themselves to mark the end of the ceremony, he collapses to the ground, succumbing at last to the blissful release of unconsciousness.

For a long time after his demotion ceremony, Simeon cannot sleep through the night. He wakes at random times, gasping for air, from dreams of being on fire again. A few times, when he wakes, he finds his wings actually alight, as though they remember their seraph form when they used to be made of flame, and he screams at the half-asleep memory of how those wings turned to rock and tore themselves from his body. Other times, he is wrought from his rest by a phantom feeling of ash in his throat, choking on the taste of hellfire.

He wonders if these dreams are being sent to him by his Father, or by his own mind.

Which would be worse?

Night after night, he prays desperately for release, exhausted.

He never receives any answer.

It is years before he makes it through a night without waking, and many years more before he manages a peaceful, dreamless night. It is centuries more before those nights outnumber the dreams of flames.

All the while, he hears the whispers and snickering of older angels as he passes through the Celestial Realm halls now, particularly from Middle Order angels smugly delighting in now outranking a former seraph. Gossip of his restless nights spreads between them, rumors flying around of the demonic screams that come from his room when all should be asleep.

Some of them wonder if perhaps he's not an angel at all anymore. Others sneer that maybe he shouldn't be.

Maybe they're right. Maybe he shouldn't be.

He doesn't enter his angel form very often anymore. He still remembers the feeling of corrupting, of horn instead of halo.

Maybe he's not fit to be an angel.

He prays again.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me simeon #om! simeon #obey me fics #obey me angst #writings #body horror cw #abusive parent cw #ptsd cw #angels being terrifying #mod chaos in the devildom #very angsty and very body horror #my two specialties?#i am two months late responding to chapter 58 but OH WELL

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Note

Hello! For Mermay can you do Lambert x Aiden and #11 - courting season? ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

thank you for this one, I have been meaning to write more Lambden and this was an excellent excuse to do so! ❤

warning for monster anatomy and smut

It's a good thing the Cat school has long since been disbanded because if any of Aiden's peers knew what he was doing, he'd never live it down. There's still the caravan, but Aiden has never associated with them, so he couldn't care less what they think about him and Lambert is more important to him than their opinions. The only problem is that Lambert isn't, in the strictest sense of the word, human. Technically, Aiden was hired to kill him, but that's just details.

What's important is how Lambert makes him feel. Because he doesn't do sappy shit like fuck the same person more than once, but Lambert makes him want to. It's been months and he still keeps coming back.

It started with a contract back in the autumn; local fishermen had complained about a creature ripping holes in their nets and stealing the fish for itself. Petty squabbles that could likely be solved by other means, but Aiden won't say no to a job that easy, so he accepted it. It turned out to be a misunderstanding; Lambert was simply getting back at the fishermen who had wronged him or the villagers in town - he pretends to be rough and grouchy, but deep down he's actually quite soft. And Lambert had been very thankful when Aiden had cleared things up, assuring the fisherman with complaints that the creature was now dead and wouldn't bother them anymore.

So, if Aiden has come back a time or two, he can hardly help it. Lambert's a great lay and doesn't mind the weird bits that others usually shy away from. And, regrettably, Aiden likes him for more than just the sex. Because Lambert's a snarky bastard and he's funny and he's a great storyteller if he can be coerced into it. But the worst part is when they're just lying there, usually immediately after sex, and it's quiet except for the breaths mingling in the sea air. And they can just be. When Lambert will tentatively reach up and curl cool, webbed fingers around Aiden's and pretend like he's not, but he'll just lie like that for as long as he's undisturbed. It does something funny to Aiden's heart that he tries not to look too closely at.

But this time, when he arrives at the secret beach they've designated as a meeting spot, Lambert isn't there. Aiden can smell him still, so it hasn't been long since he was here - he probably isn't hurt, or anything - but he's just not around. He frowns to himself and sits down at the water's edge to wait. Maybe he had to do something last minute and he's just delayed.

Aiden leans against one of the rocky cliffs that juts out of the ground, stretching his legs out almost all the way to the next. The opening to the sea here is quite small and it's a wonder he ever found Lambert in the first place, but it affords them some privacy from the town on the other side of the cliffs. He shuts his eyes, letting the warm summer sun beat down on him and crosses his arms behind his head to wait.

After half an hour, Lambert still hasn't shown up. But the smell of him still hangs in the air. He's lingering somewhere, just on the edge of Aiden's range of sight or something and he's sick of it. Whatever his reasons for not showing up, Aiden's had enough of it. It's been months since he's seen him and, as much as he's tried to deny it, he's missed him.

"Hey," he shouts, clambering to his feet, "hey asshole, get out here, you're late."

There's nothing, not even the sounds of water rippling and Aiden frowns.

"Lambert, I know you're here, just come out and see me."

Nothing, again. Aiden sighs and shuts his eyes.

"Lambs, if something's wrong just tell me. If you don't come and see me I'm gonna assume something happened and I'm gonna have to go on a rampage through the village and-"

"You don't have to do that."

Aiden turns to see Lambert's head and shoulder just breaking the surface of the water. He's frowning at him, but Aiden beams.

"There you are," he says, crouching down next to the edge. "The fuck kept you?"

"Can't do it this time," he shrugs and Aiden's grin turns to a frown.

"Why not?"

"Just… not now. Come back in a couple weeks or something, I don't know."

Aiden pauses, doing a quick once-over of what little of Lambert he can see and he realizes he's tense. Unusually tense. He reaches out to him, but Lambert flinches away and that's the last straw.

"Look, if something's wrong-"

"Nothing's wrong," Lambert snaps, "just get outta here."

"Lambs, if you're in pain or-"

"Go."

"I'm not going," Aiden says stubbornly, dropping to sit cross-legged across from the merman. "If you want me to leave, you'll have to give me what I want."

"Which is?"

"You."

"Bribing me for sex now?" Lambert scoffs. Aiden just laughs at him.

"Like I'd need to. But I wouldn't. I just… I missed you, idiot, 's been a while."

"Told you," Lambert grumbles, a little quieter, almost regretfully, "come back in a week."

"You don't have to hide anything from me. I'm happy to go if that's what you want, but can you tell me why?"

Lambert crosses his arms and sulks, turning away from him and Aiden isn't sure what to do. He's never seen him like this before and he wants to help, but Lambert is sensitive and he doesn't want to press. He waits as Lambert continues to ignore him, but eventually, it becomes evident that Lambert is not backing down.

"Fine," he mumbles reluctantly, "see you in a few weeks, I guess." He's just about in the middle of the field when Lambert's voice breaks through the silence.

"Wait." Aiden is too stunned to even be smug about it and he turns back to him. "Don't... don't go."

"Gettin' some mixed signals here, Lambs. What do you want? Stay or go?"

"Stay," he mumbles quietly, "please."

Aiden turns back and crosses to sit between the cliff faces again, looking down at Lambert where he's still in the water. He crouches down, elbows on his knees, and raises an eyebrow.

"You wanna tell me what's going on now?"

"Mating season," Lambert mumbles, almost silently. "Hate this time of year." Aiden can't help the sigh of relief that accompanies him flopping to the ground again.

"Gods, Lambert, I thought something was really wrong."

"Shows how much you know."

"Then tell me." Aiden shifts closer to the edge, so his knees hang over the ground when he crosses his legs again. Lambert sighs but swims right up, resting his elbows on the rock as he grumbles.

"Everyone else is off building nests or picking mates and I- I'm not."

"Look, if I'm the problem-" Aiden starts, ready to get up and leave again and never return if it means Lambert's happiness. But Lambert stops him, lifts a hand to settle on his knee.

"No," he says quietly, "it's not because of you. Just the same bullshit as always; why would anyone want me?"

"Does it matter?" Aiden asks gently, "if you choose a mate? You've always got me."

"'S not the same. And it's hard... to be around you right now."

"I'm... sorry?" Aiden says.

"Never been like this before," Lambert mumbles, "never felt so strong before."

"What hasn't?"

Lambert's cheeks flush and he frowns at the rock beneath them. Aiden slips a hand over his where it's still resting on his knee.

"Whatever you're afraid of, you don't have to be."

"This time of year," Lambert grits, "I- we- it's some stupid shit to ensure the continuation of our species or some dumb shit."

"Oh," Aiden says, realizing with a start, "oh. You're in heat?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, Lambs," he grins, tipping forward onto his knees to lean over him, "if that's what it is, I can help. But I've been here before in the summer and-"

"You can't," Lambert says abruptly and Aiden drops back on his heels.

"Right, of course. It has to be another mermaid right? or a merman? merperson> I'm sorry-"

"No. It doesn't."

"Then let me help? You know I can make it good for you. What you need, Lambert, let me help."

"Can't ask you to."

"Why not? We've fucked more times than I can count, why not now?"

"Because it's different. Because usually that's all I want - to fuck - but this time I want you."

"And here I am." Aiden grins, spreading his arms wide and Lambert just gives him a look. It takes him a second, but Aiden realizes it's not just sex he's talking about. It doesn't take him any time at all to make a decision.

"If you want me," he starts, "I'd be your mate. If that's what you want."

"Fuck off, Witcher."

"I'm serious Lambs, please." He shuffles closer and this time, when he reaches out, Lambert lets him touch. He runs his thumb over Lambert's cheek and draws his fingers up under his chin. "I wouldn't keep coming back if I wasn't interested," he breathes and Lambert just stares at him.

Aiden knows he won't make the first move, he leans down, getting his hands under Lambert's arms and tugging him up and out of the water. Lambert eventually assists and they land in a heap, Lambert fitting nicely between Aiden's legs.

"I want you," Aiden whispers, bringing a hand to the back of Lambert's head and drawing him close. He kisses him softly, but when Lambert squirms, Aiden can feel the long length of his cock, already free and hard where it presses against Aiden's sodden thigh.

Lambert tenses for a moment but Aiden runs a soothing hand down his back and he relaxes, following the motion. He whines softly against Aiden's lips and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. It tugs a little, webbed fingers not being the greatest for combing through hair, but Aiden just smiles against him and slips his hand a little lower, moving over the swell of Lambert's tail.

"That's it," he mumbles, "let me take care of you."

Lambert doesn't speak, but he buries his face in Aiden's neck, whimpering as his hips rock urgently, pressing his cock between Aiden's thighs. He's still completely dressed, but Lambert seems unconcerned, nipping at his shoulders and jerking against him. It's hot as fuck and Aiden can't bring himself to do anything but watch, sliding both hands to Lambert's tail to help him keep steady.

"Gods, you're gorgeous," he mumbles, "gonna come for me, Lambs? Fuck my thighs and come just like this?"

Lambert whines loudly and seizes up abruptly, shoving his hips forward and biting down on Aiden's neck. Warmth seeps into his trousers and Aiden groans as Lambert's hips slow to a stop and he flops on top of him.

"Fuck, you really needed that, didn't you?"

Lambert rolls off of him, embarrassed, but Aiden moves after him, circling an arm around him and rolling him back again.

"No need to be embarrassed," he mumbles, tipping to kiss Lambert's mouth, "I know you, I want you, and seeing you like this is… fuck, Lambert." He winds a hand around Lambert's wrist, tugging his hand down to press against the front of his trousers. He's hard already and Lambert's hand closes around him reflexively.

He strokes a little, tentative, and Aiden is stunned to see him like this, so soft and nervous. He rocks into his palm eagerly, biting down on Lambert's lip.

"Touch me," he says, "don't hold back. Do what you want with me, I'm yours."

Lambert lets out another stifled moan, then shoves him onto his back, kissing him firmly even as Aiden laughs. He's pinned under Lambert's weight, delighting in the heavy warmth of him as he squirms back to settle between his legs. Strong fingers tear at his shirt, barely bothering to get the buttons undone before tugging it off of him and then he's pressing sharp claws into Aiden's chest, just shy of painful.

"Need you," he rasps and Aiden reaches up to cup the back of his head, drawing him into a fiery kiss. Lambert slumps against him, all but limp in Aiden's arms and he doesn't resist when Aiden pushes him back over.

He gets on his knees above him, sliding one hand between them to wrap around Lambert's cock, already fully hard and slick again, and stroking straight up to the tip. He presses his thumb inside, stroking slowly as Lambert bucks beneath him and doesn't withdraw until Lambert breaks the kiss to curse at him.

"Gonna set me off again like that," he pants and Aiden knows he wants to sound angry, but he comes across desperate and it's sexier than it should be.

"Want me to?" Below him, Lambert's dark eyes grow wide and his mouth drops open. "I will if you want. Whatever you want, Lambs."

"Please," he mumbles, "Aiden, please."

Aiden grins wickedly at him, bending to kiss him again as he presses his thumb deeper, stroking the outside of his cock with his fingers as Lambert jerks into the touch. He's never touched him like that and heat rolls up the back of his neck, the thought of being allowed to do this overwhelming. Lambert is so solitary, so private about anything other than what annoys him, and yet he opens himself immediately to Aiden when they fuck. So Aiden takes what he's given and does everything to give back.

He thrusts gently, careful not to push too hard, but Lambert throws his head back in a moan and arches off the ground, so he must be doing something right. But Lambert wasn't kidding when he said he could come like this. Before long, Aiden's entire hand is slick with pre-come, sliding easily into him and Lambert writhes under him, cursing and whining in equal measure until, as Aiden slides a second finger into him, he comes.

Lambert's hips buck and he covers Aiden's hand and most of his arm with his spend, but he's too lost to even notice it, letting Aiden guide him. It takes him a few minutes to calm down and Aiden holds him through it, kissing him softly and running his hands up and down his back. He hums softly against Lambert's skin until he squirms with impatience again.

Lambert squirms out of his hold and gets his hands on Aiden's trousers, getting them undone quickly and shoving them down so he can touch his cock. Aiden sighs as smooth fingers slip around him and he shifts lightly into the touch, rocking between Lambert's fingers. It feels good and he would be happy to come just like this, but he has a feeling Lambert isn't done with this yet. Lambert's cock is already swelling again and Aiden wants him, wants to touch him and feel him. He wants to make him come and see that look in Lambert's eyes when he finally tips over the edge into bliss.

Lambert draws him back to the present, reaching down to squeeze his balls and Aiden groans loudly, eyes flashing open to watch him. He rises onto his knees, staying low on his elbows so he's close to Lambert, so he can kiss his neck and nose at his jaw. He mouths at the skin as Lambert gets both hands around him, squeezing and stroking him firmly.

Aiden loves the feel of his hands, smoother and silkier than his own. He doesn't know if it's because he's a merman or just because it's Lambert but his hands feel better than any hands that have ever touched him.

He rocks into the touch, dropping to kiss Lambert's mouth, breathy and stilted. Pleasure zips up his spine and his cock jerks hard in Lambert's grip, earning him a small groan of approval.

"Mm, you gotta- oh, fuck Lambert- gonna make me come like that-"

Lambert just laughs and surges up to kiss him again as he slips one hand further down to play with his balls again. Aiden's eyes roll back with a groan and he grabs Lambert's wrists in one hand, pulling his hands off of him and rolling off to the side.

He lets go of Lambert's wrists and wiggles one arm under his waist, tugging him close so they're nose to nose. Lambert's breath catches and Aiden kisses him swiftly, nipping at his lip as he pulls away. Aiden presses a hand to his chest, slowly sliding it down Lambert's stomach, down past where his flesh meets scales. He loves the otherness of his scales, loves feeling like even though they are so different, they can still bring each other pleasure, can still care for each other.

He runs his fingertips down the entire length of Lambert's cock, pressing a little firmer as Lambert pushes into the touch. Lambert rocks forward and Aiden slips lower, pressing his fingers into the slit where his cock protrudes, fingering the base and pressing as deep as he can and circling around him. It makes Lambert squirm and Aiden makes a point of pressing more firmly and squeezing around the base of his cock.

Lambert's cock pulses under his hand and Aiden strokes right up to the head before pulling off altogether. He slips down again, pressing his fingers along the seam of Lambert's second slit, pressing in and rubbing into him. Lambert groans and Aiden slips deeper, pressing into the hot slick of him and Lambert pushes onto him, shifting closer to keep Aiden's fingers inside him.

"Mm, you like that don't you, sweets? You want me to fuck you, you want my cock?"

"Yeah," Lambert breathes, pressing in to nuzzle Aiden's neck, "please, fuck me."

"I think you can wait just a little longer," Aiden hums and Lambert groans at him, but when Aiden presses deeper into him, his protests fade into soft moans. "That's what I thought."

He curves his fingers, seeking out the little ridged area that he knows drives Lambert up the wall. It had been a fun discovery the first time around and now he just likes making him lose his mind. One day, he'll make him come like that, just his fingers inside him, but not now. Now, he's aching to fuck him and he doesn't want to tease too much, not when Lambert genuinely seems to need this right now.

He knows as soon as he's found the spot because Lambert's tail twitches and he curves in on himself, rocking forward and doing anything he can to get him to press harder. And because Aiden is feeling particularly generous, he does.

"Oh fuck, oh gods," Lambert rambles, "fuckin' love you, fuck."

He doesn't seem to catch the slip, but Aiden does and it takes all his focus not to slip in his ministrations. He keeps rocking into him, massaging that same spot until Lambert is all but crying with the need to come, writhing against him and whimpering into his skin. But Aiden's mind stopped some time back, still stuck on love you. He should know better than to put any weight into confessions in the middle of sex, but this is Lambert who would rather be caught dead than admit he loves his brothers.

All at once, everything makes sense and Aiden knows everything he's been feeling is more than just lust and respect for Lambert and he aches to tell him, but he doesn't want to spook him. Lambert is so flighty with feelings and emotions, that sometimes it's best to trick him into it, but his head is too foggy for that right now.

"You want it, love?" he asks and Lambert doesn't seem to even notice the pet name, just nods and nips at his shoulder. "Okay. Fuck, I've wanted you for so long," he mumbles.

Aiden withdraws his fingers, running briefly up the length of Lambert's cock before moving to his own dick. He rubs the head against Lambert's slit, teasing the slickness, but he wants it too badly. He slips forward, pressing into him, and Lambert rocks forward, abruptly taking him deep.

Aiden groans and pushes him onto his back, straddling him with both hands above his shoulders. He rolls his hips slowly, inching forward until he's settled deep in Lambert's body, slick heat completely engulfing him. He shuts his eyes, barely shifting his hips until Lambert squirms beneath him and commands him to fucking move.

When Aiden looks down again, Lambert's prick is dark and swollen, leaking from the tip, and he knows he's desperate to come again. He can't help but wonder how long it'll keep up for - not that he's not prepared to stay for a week if that's what it takes to get Lambert through this. But Lambert jerks again, pulling him from his thoughts, and Aiden picks up the pace.

He fucks into him steadily, forehead pressed to Lamberts as he shifts his weight to stroke Lambert's cock. He brings him off twice more like this and he's barely keeping it together himself when Lambert really starts to squirm.

He's barely recovered from his last orgasm and his cock is still soft against his stomach, so he shouldn't be ready to come again so soon. Aiden does everything he can think of to give him what he needs, but nothing seems to work. He fucks him harder, softer, quicker, kisses him, but Lambert is still twitchy and not in a good way.

"Tell me what you need," Aiden pants, "let me give it to you, love."

Lambert just groans and buries his head in Aiden's neck. "Come on Lambs, tell me. I wanna give it to you, what do you need?"

"Want you to bite me," he mumbles and Aiden could laugh. He's an idiot, it's so simple.

"Well, if that's all," he smirks, but Lambert presses a hand to his chest to stop him leaning closer.

"Not just… I want you to claim me. Bite my neck, make me bleed. Mark me."

"Oh." Aiden's mind races because this is different than a slip of the tongue; this is deliberate. "Yeah, darling, anything you want. Just tell me what to do." He rocks his hips quicker again, thrusting forward hard as Lambert stares up at him.

"Right here," Lambert breathes, tilting his neck and tapping his skin right where his neck and shoulder meet. "If you mean it, bite me here."

"Fuck," Aiden groans and his cock throbs as he sinks into him again. He shouldn't be so stupidly turned on by the idea of claiming Lambert as his own, by the idea of keeping him, but it's making his head foggy and it's hard to focus.

Under him, Lambert is fully hard again and Aiden gives him a quick couple of strokes before draping himself over his chest. He props himself up on his elbow, running his fingers through Lambert's hair and ducking to lick at the spot on his neck. He licks and sucks at the spot, teasing with kisses then running his teeth along it slowly.

And the swell of arousal rises, pushing him forward until he's pushing his luck with every thrust, so overwhelmed he can't hold on any longer.

"Gonna come," he mumbles and Lambert nods and mumbles something inaudible.

"Bite me."

Aiden bites down gently and it's enough to push him over the edge, coming hard still buried deep in Lambert. He tenses up and bites down hard, teeth breaking the skin and sinking in and it's so fucking intense he can't even focus. He doesn't even realize Lambert's coming too until he flops against his come-splattered chest.

For a few, sweet minutes, neither of them says anything and Aiden lifts his head just far enough to catch Lambert's lips in a soft, lazy kiss. It's more desperate breaths than kissing, but Lambert hooks an arm around the back of his neck and Aiden has never been happier.

It seems to take an eternity to come back from and Aiden's still feeling a little breathless when he finally finds the energy to throw himself into the ocean to wash off. It's the same thing he does every time and usually, Lambert goes with him, but this time when he pops his head above water, Lambert isn't in front of him. Aiden turns and finds him sitting at the edge of the rocks with his neck craned, looking at his reflection in the water. Aiden grins to himself and swims over, careful not to disturb Lambert's reflection.

From here he can see how he traces his fingers along the edge of the bite mark, still lightly bleeding, and stares at it in awe.

"Something wrong?" Aiden asks.

"No. Never thought I'd ever-" he cuts himself off with a huff and turns away, but Aiden reaches up and runs a hand down his arm.

"Hey," he says, "I am damn lucky to have you." Lambert looks down at him with the hint of a smile in his eyes and Aiden pushes himself up but finds himself held down.

"Can I bite you?" Lambert asks, one hand on Aiden's shoulder. "So you don't forget." Aiden laughs out loud, reaching an arm up to pull Lambert down into a quick kiss.

"I will never forget," he whispers, "but I'd be happy to have your mark to prove it."

#aiden x lambert #lambden #courting season #spicy #the witcher #Anonymous #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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maldito-arbol · 2 years

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Chapter 4 and nerfing Marcy’s eye

Just cause I am finally able to talk about this without spoiling my own fic I wanted to ramble for a minute about my decision to take out Marcy’s eye in IBYBF because it was a PROCESS, and I had been drawing little concept designs since freaking October on my post-chapter 4 Marcy. The very first one I only liked for about an hour before I changed my mind because the arm scars reminded me a little too much of something /else/ so I had to toss it out.

What you’ll notice too is here, her eye isn’t even completely gone. At this point I was still heavily debating it in my head so I put it up to a vote among assorted irl friends and the overwhelming response was…well….bye bye eyeball (oh and Anne’s antler was planned from the very start but as you can probably guess from the chapter drawings, her initial design got scrapped in favor of a Long Boi bc i like it more shut up)

So my next move came as I was writing the chapter itself because Marcy’s eye isn’t the only thing that gets utterly destroyed during the fight. I designed a new Marcy in a new-ish fit with the idea that she gets her armor pieces from Sasha and Yunan, and she keeps her ripped cape just cause she thinks it looks cool. This is where I give her a spiffy lil eyepatch as a callback to her Leviathan design from chapter 5 of PMIT.

Only problem is I wanted the patch to be a meaningful gift from someone and I,,,, could not for the life of me figure out who she could conceivably get it from that would reasonably own an eyepatch and also have a personal connection with her.

SO IT WAS BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD (literally!!) I wondered to myself what else she could possibly do to cover up the gaping hole in her face that would make sense for her character and also feel realistic here… at some point I did toss around the idea of giving her an orange glass eye (hahahahahahahahaha)

But I mean obviously I wasn’t /actually/ gonna do that. So that brings us to where I’m currently at, which is FINALLY something that feels like a natural progression in my fic and also makes a reference to canon, and that is her Maddie and Marcy hairstyle!

In addition to being fun to draw, it’s something she could feasibly pick up from Maddie considering their interactions in my fic thus far. As a bonus Maddie would be totally stoked about it because isn’t matching with a bestie just the greatest?

Finally…I can rest………..but not too much cause I still don’t have chapter 5 done *vibrates* just lots of ideas and nowhere to put them. Pray for mal 2k21

#IBYBF #PMIT #mal writes #mal arts #amphibia #marcy wu #sashannarcy #gonna keep these tags to a minimum because this is literally just a ramble post and the doodles are the only things that apply to the tags #but yallllllllllll #i am having so much fun!!!#that sounds terrible!#i meant i am suffering lots yup no creative excitement here

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dogbearinggifts · 4 years

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What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever.

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

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lacontroller1991 · 3 years

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Someone To You (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Reader gets jealous of Daryl and Carol’s relationship, feeling like he is neglecting her for Carol, so she avoids him and he confronts her about it

Author’s Note: Can I talk about how much I can’t stand Carol in season 10. She was so selfish and for what? I mean I still love her, but season 10 Carol wasn't it. ALSO ANGSTY AS FUUUUCCC, also Daryl is a bit of a dick in this

Warning: Language

You didn’t know when you and Daryl had become a ‘thing’ so to speak, but you did know when you started to really notice his relationship with Carol. It was the first night at the prison when they were on watch together and you were walking the length of the gates for something to do when you heard Daryl say ‘I’ll go down first’ and Carol shouting back ‘even better’. You knew deep down that they were probably joking with each other, it still stung. You shook it off, knowing that Daryl had stated explicitly multiple times that he and Carol were just friends.

Then Lori died and Carol was missing. Daryl was a mess. You tried consoling him, ensuring him that she was fine, that she wasn’t dead, but he turned a cold shoulder, lighting a cigarette and releasing a shaky breath. You walked away from him, expecting him to call out to you, but he didn’t. Deep down you knew they were more than just friends.

When Carol showed up in Daryl’s arms extremely dirty and almost passed out, you stood there in shock as Daryl brushed passed you and placed her in her cell. What really got you questioning his loyalty was that he wouldn’t leave her bedside.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked softly as he shrugged his shoulders, not even glancing at you. Walking away, you saw Rick look at you with sorrow. Offering a small smile, you went down to get some food that you had cooked for everyone. Getting a bowl, you poured the stew and grabbed a spoon, heading back to Carol’s cell, hoping that Daryl would eat something.

“Here, you need to eat something babe,” you stated softly, handing him the bowl gently as he took it and stared at it before throwing it at the wall next to you, getting stew all over your clothes and hair.

“What they fuck Daryl? I’m just trying to help!” You exclaimed in frustration as he looked at you with that infamous Dixon temper.

“Yeah, we don’t need yer help. Get outta here,” he yelled as you stood still, taking in the ‘we’ more than anything else, “go!” Running out of the cell, you passed Maggie and Glenn who looked at you in shock before turning back to each other.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Maggie suggested as Glenn nodded his head. Running after you, Maggie exited the prison to see you sitting on the floor in sobs. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she took a seat next to you and rubbed circles into your back.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it sweetie,” she whispered as you sniffled, looking at her through bangs before wiping your tears away.

“What does she have that I don’t?” You asked as she sighed and looked at the clouds in the sky as if searching for an answer.

“He just needs space.”

“Well, he can have it. I’m done looking after him while all he does is mope in her cell,” you stated harshly, grabbing one of the metal pipes before heading down to the fences.

You avoided Daryl and Carol like the plague. You even went as far as sleeping in an empty cell, away from them, trying to collect your thoughts. It had been a week since Carol has been up and running around. She would offer you smiles but you would never return them, always getting food after everyone else so that you could avoid the pity talk and avoid them. You laid in your cell, backed in the furthest corner but you could still hear everything happening outside. Your ears immediately perked up at the mention of your name.

“’ave ya talked to her? She won’t talk to me,” Daryl commented as you heard Rick sigh, blocking the entrance to your cell that you were almost certain that Daryl didn’t know about.

“Look, you messed up. I would even go as far as saying that you fucked up,” Rick replied, and you could image what they looked like. Rick with his hands on his hips and Daryl leaning against the wall.

“’ow the fuck did I fuck up? Carol wasn’t ‘erself.”

“I don’t know, brother. But throwing a bowl of stew at (Y/n) when she was just trying to help isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“I did what?” The surprise in his voice shook you. How could he not know what he did? Wasn’t he explicitly clear that he didn’t want your help just days before.

“She was bringing you food, you threw it at her,” Rick stated as you leaned closer in without making a sound.

“Shit,” was all that Daryl said before his heavy footprints walked away, leaving Rick at the entrance to your new cell. You stared at him as he walked in, taking a seat on your bed next to you.

“You should talk to him,” he suggested as you shook your head.

“No, I’m done talking to him. I don’t want to be a second choice to anyone. If it were me or Carol, he would choose her every time. Guarantee it.”

“No he wouldn’t.”

“Yes he would, Rick. You saw him. All he did was sit there in her cell, holding her hand and spoon feeding her. It was a mistake joining the group,” you whispered, trying to push the tears down, “maybe if I had never joined the group then I wouldn’t have fallen in love with that jerk.”

“Don’t say that, you belong with us and you know it. You contribute just as much as anyone else does, we all appreciate you and want you here.”

“I don’t know. I should just leave. Take my chances.”

“I can’t stop you, but if you ever decide to come back, you are always welcomed.”

“Thanks Rick,” you offered him a smile as he pulled you in for a side hug.”

“Of course. Although can you take watch tonight?” He asked with a smile as you laughed and shoved his arm playfully.

“Yeah, I got it.”

The breeze from up in the guard tower blew your hair across your face. You leaned against the rail, not paying attention to the door opening and who was coming in.

“Don’t leave,” a gruff voice said, causing you to spin around to see Daryl standing there as awkward as ever with some flowers and food in his hand. Your heart skipped a beat, urging to go back to him and forgive him, but you ignored the feeling and turned away, going back to look out at the empty field.

“Not your decision.” He sighed, placing the flowers down and walking over to you, offering you the bowl of stew. Taking it from him, you copied him and threw it at the door.

“Guess I deserved that,” he commented as you shot him a glare.

“Ya think?” He moved to stand next to you.

“I know I fucked up. Please don’t leave, we need you here.”

“We? You gotta be kidding me.” You spat out as you avoided his stare.

“The hell is yer problem girl?” He asked, his temper flaring up as you looked at him in disbelief.

“My problem? My problem is you and Carol. You care for her more than you do me. You couldn’t even look at me when she was down, all you could do was just sit in her cell. My problem is you. And here you come, with flowers asking me not to leave. Because you guys need me here. Not you. The truth is,” you whispered out the last part, wiping the tears away, “I fucking love you Daryl. But you love her more than me, and it really shows. I want you to pick me, choose me, love me.”

“That’s what ya think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Then yer an idiot,” he whispered, pulling you into him, kissing your lips with passion as you stood there, gradually returning the kiss before he pulled apart, “I care for her. But I love ya so much it ‘urts. If ya decide to leave, it will kill me. I need ya here. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep ya here. Hell, I’ll even stop talking to ‘er.”

“Don’t do that.”

“But I will.”

“I just want to be someone to you,” you whispered, hugging him, tightly wrapping your arms around his waist as he held you close to him.

“Yer my everythin’.”

Author's Note: AHDHEJWbfoewhfNEqoHFEP, think this might be my favorite fic I’ve ever written. In no way would I ever beg on my knees for a guy to choose me over another chick, but if it were Daryl Dixon I would make one helluv an exception.

Also Peep Grey’s reference

Also poor Rick, he has to deal with their shit when he just lost Lori. RIP

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #reader #reader insert #Female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #twd #rick grimes #Maggie greene #Glenn Rhee #Maggie Greene x glenn rhee #norman reedus

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broadstflyers · 3 years

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A/N: Welp, inspiration struck me, felt as though it quite literally hit me over the top of my head at like 1am, so I proceeded to write this at...1am. It was fun, honestly. It was meant to be a shorter blurb, but I guess it grew into a longer one. I have been experimenting with different writing styles to see which one fits me the best, so I gave the main character a name this time, Alessandra. Also, I was a slight idiot and on my first tag list, I made it specific to the other series I am writing. If you like this piece and the other Mat piece I wrote and you want to be tagged when I post any writing at all, the tag list is here. The semi lowercase thing I've got going on is purposeful. As always, feedback is appreciated, and if you like it, give it a like, reblog, or pop into my asks. Thanks! :)

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: When an ex comes back in a moment of weakness, you have to make a tough decision.

you say nothing as you approach the black haired boy sitting at a table in your english class. you sit down next to him. he looks up at you, and you lock eyes. no words are spoken, only a mutual understanding. one that only you two could define. you suddenly inch closer to him, continuing to lean in until your head is resting on his chest. you rest your arm next to your head, and he wraps an arm around you.

home. warm. it was.

you could feel his heart beating out of his chest. your heart fluttered with joy. it was instant. it was marvelous. it was beautiful.

“I love you, Alessandra.”

you lurch forward out of your bed, heart beating so fast you are shaking. you pant heavily, tears stream your face, startled. your eyes dart around your room to ground yourself through watery eyes. you hold up your trembling hands, something that has refused to stop since he walked out of your front door for the last time two months ago.

“please don’t visit,” you choke out. you find the strength to turn around and grab your pillow. your chest pounds with pain, every movement is agonizing. you squeeze your soft pillow against your chest to try and alleviate the self-sustained blow. you pretended the pillow could somehow suck the heavy feelings out of you, the way he used to use his hands of healing magic, the way he used to place them with gentle care on your chest to somehow suck the anxiousness out of you onto himself.

you mindlessly rock back and forth, waiting for the waves of mind numbing pain to recede back into the endless deep abyss of despair.

“please don’t visit,” you repeat in a weak voice. not that he could hear your begging, anyways.

he didn’t hear your pleas to love you how you loved him- with every bone in your body. he held a knife in his calloused hands and carved his initials into your soul. every inch of your soul belonged to him, and you let it.

how can you break a bond that felt as though the angels themselves used their delicate touch to hand-tie the gold string you once believed held you two together?

maybe that explains why this feels like hell.

you flinch as you hear a sharp knock at the front door. you should probably get that, but you instead settle back into your hazy gaze out into your room.

a second knock rings throughout the apartment, faster, with a sense of urgency.

“please don’t visit,” you croak.

“Alessandra,” a voice croaks back. “open up.”

your blood freezes cold, eyes grow wide in panic. fire spreads through your veins. hot and cold sensations rip you apart limb from limb. your voice feels broken. no sounds come out when you open your mouth.

I guess I should move.

so you do. you stand up a little too quickly, and your vision goes black. you place your palms down on the bed and wait for your vision to return. you tip toe over to the door and place your palm on your chilling door. goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“it’s Mat,” his once soothing voice whispers through the door.

“Mat,” you quietly repeat back.

“yes, it’s me,” he says with a sigh of relief that you answered him.

his voice of familiarity is catching you in a stint of anxiety where you just want something- anything that’s familiar. you know this. when you used to gaze into his kind, brown eyes, you would see the boy you met in eighth grade, not the man that walked out that door just two months ago.

you went to move the locks, and you unlocked both of them, until you pulled back with hesitancy. “I can’t, Mat, I can’t,” you breathe out, “I can’t see you. please,” you plead, “hear me. I, I can’t. you didn’t hear me all those months I pleaded with you. hear me now.”

you can hear him place his head on the door with a soft thump.

“I still love you, Alessandra,” he mumbles.

and that was it. you just about exploded. the emotions you had kept at bay were unleashed. you began to sob and you sank to the ground until you could hug your knees. you still faced the door. you knew he shouldn’t walk in, but you almost wanted him to. you wanted him to put an end to this, but was it a good idea?

no, it wasn’t. and you knew that.

you began to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. “it’s unlocked,” you hear yourself say in the distance. you didn’t immediately regret those words like you thought you would. you had scooted yourself away from the door so you wouldn’t get hit.

he slowly opened the creaky door, and glances down to see you blankly staring at your knees. what else could you do? it was awkward enough.

he doesn’t say anything. the apartment is dead.

he carefully sits down across from you, far enough where he isn’t in your face, but close enough that you could extend your legs and they would touch him.

you both sit in silence for a moment, trying to adjust to being in each other’s presence again. his presence felt so natural, yet so nerving. you weren’t used to feeling so on edge around him. so hurt.

“time,” you sniff and break the unbearable silence. “I need time,” you reaffirm.

he nods slowly. “I understand,” he whispers. “I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I fucked up badly.”

you don’t move a muscle from staring at the seam on your sweatpants. you take a shaky breath. it’s now or never.

“Mat, do you know how painful it is to have to practically beg someone to not treat you like shit one day and then to decide the next day I’m the fucking greatest human being on this planet?” you start to find your voice again.

“I had to beg my boyfriend to treat me with respect. the person I gave my soul to. do you know how much that fucking killed me?” your voice was seething with anger as you remembered the end of your relationship. feelings of betrayal and hurt overtook you.

you push yourself off the floor. he follows you.

“you don’t love me,” you assert. “you ‘love’ me because of when you met me. I’m just familiar to you.”

he makes a taken aback face, his eyebrows furrow. “hey, I know what I feel okay? and yeah, I was a fucking asshole. I realize that now. I shouldn’t have acted out on you like I did. I shouldn’t have made you beg for basic human respect. I’m sorry.”

you look into his eyes again. those brown innocent eyes were once filled with sparkling joy. you see 13 year old you dancing around with his favorite flower in your hair. you see hundreds of dates, each one more special than the last.

you see innocent you. it’s just familiarity. you know it is. you’re too hurt, mind too foggy to really sort through your feelings to figure out if you love the mat standing in front of you.

“I’m going to need time, Mat. I am still feeling too much hurt to decide how I feel.”

he swallows hard, but eventually nods. “okay.”

with a heavy heart, you walk him to the door. before he can walk out, he stops, turns around, and looks down at you one last time. you gaze up into those endless eyes of his, heart shattering because you know you have to send him on his way. it’s for your own good.

he opens his mouth to speak and you gently shake your head. he closes his mouth, and you offer him a nod as in, it’s time to go. you can see his body exhale. he steps through the door frame, this time you sending him through there yourself. you don’t wait to see if he will turn around. you don’t want to see if he turns around. you want to close that door knowing you are the one who sent him away, and that was all you wanted to remember in the future. and so you do.

you lock the locks with every ounce of you left, pressing your fingers down to make sure the door was actually locked. you just wanted to keep everything out. every weird feeling, any remote desire to go back to him.

you paused to touch the door one last time, letting a single tear flow down your cheek before turning to crawl back into bed and sulk for the rest of the day.

you knew deep down that was the last time you would ever see the face of your teenage love.

he won’t be visiting anymore.

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

again, here's the link to the tag list, and my asks are open if you want to talk about this piece! I hope you...well...enjoyed it, I guess? lmao

#mat barzal #mat barzal angst #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Broken" A Sharky ANGSTY O/S

So I made a one shot called Baby Shark where Sharky and Rafael get pregnant and after some bumpy conversation, decide to have the baby and she grows up to be a great kid, and you love being a mother.

However, at the time I also had an idea for the OTHER outcome of the pregnancy. But I let it go, and then I got a request from-- someone, I don't know if they want this out in the world-- to write a fic about a miscarriage. So, I figured I'd go with the idea I had already planned out.

AND SO,

I present to you, the alternative outcome of "Baby Shark".

Warning: VERY angsty, dealing with abortions and miscarriages. Also religion, if you're sensitive about that.

Read at your own discretion.

If you would like to read the happy version of this story, it is here.

Tag List

@objection-argumentative

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

You stared at the four pregnancy tests on the counter, waiting on the fifth. Plus signs and “Pregnant” words were sitting there, mocking you. You heard your phone alarm go off and picked up the last test.

Positive.

“Dammit!!!” You threw it across the bathroom. This was your worst nightmare. You didn’t want kids right now, you weren’t sure you wanted kids EVER. But you knew Rafael did, he probably wanted them as soon as possible.

“Mi Amor?” Rafael slowly opened the door.

“Raffi!” You spun around angrily. “Don’t you knock?!”

“Well I heard you yell…Oh my god,” Rafael suddenly noticed all the positive tests. “Y/N, are you…are you pregnant?”

“Yeah, well obviously,” You scoffed, gesturing to the many positive tests. You weren’t trying to be mean but he walked in just when you were trying to wrap your mind around this.

“…Why are you angry about this, carino?” He looked at you confused. “You…you do want kids, don’t you?”

“We really should have had this conversation before we got married, god why didn’t we have this conversation…”

“Oh my god,” Rafael stepped back. “You DON’T want kids?”

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up. “Rafael I had given up on being a wife a long time ago, let alone a mother,”

“I can’t believe this,” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Look I just don’t want to have to make this decision right NOW,” You tried to act softer, lowering your voice. “You know we JUST got married, and we JUST started the practice. I just wanted some time to BREATHE,”

“So…you want to abort it?” Rafael’s voice was soft and sad.

“Christ Almighty Rafael it’s not ‘aborting’ it’s…” You paused, noticing his face was getting more horrified. “What?”

“I thought when you were defending me, your whole ‘cold medical’ argument was a tactic…”

“Yeah well,” You ran your fingers through your hair. “Look, baby,” You took his hand again. “If I…got rid of it,” You saw him flinch. “It would just be taking a pill that rips apart cells and tissue. It doesn’t disintegrate arms or legs, or a tiny beating heart,”

“Yeah I get it, Y/N” He dropped your hands and walked out of the bathroom, you ran after him.

“Rafael, come on!” You chased him through the apartment, grabbing his hand and making him face. “At least hear me out,”

“Why? Why should I? You clearly won’t hear me out! You’ve already made your decision, I bet you weren’t even going to tell me about it,”

“That’s not fair,” You replied, hurt. Of course you would have told him, wouldn’t you?

“And…it’s not just this,” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you don’t want kids right now is one thing, if you don’t want kids EVER, then…” He wiped his eyes. “Then we’re just delaying the inevitable,” He said softly, you could hear the tears in his voice.

“What?” Your heart fell into your stomach. “What are you saying?”

“I want kids, Y/N,” He looked at you very seriously. “I want kids and I’m not going to give up that idea,”

“So, you would just walk away from me for some hypothetical kids you might have some day?” You were getting upset now. How dare he threaten you like that.

“I don’t…” He ran his hands through his hair, tears still falling from his eyes. “I don’t want to,”

“Then DON’T,” You crossed your arms.

“Why should I appease you when you won’t even THINK about it?” He suddenly went from sad to angry, matching your attitude.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t think about it, I said I really don’t want to decide NOW,” You yelled back, as you sat down on the couch. All of this yelling was making you dizzy.

“Then when do you want to decide, Y/N? When-- when our baby actually has fingers, toes? Is that going to change your mind about killing them?”

“Oh my god, you are so--” You stomped out of the bathroom and through your living room.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“To prove to you I’m not a heartless bitch!” You yelled back as you stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

=====

You drove to the clinic that Dr. Ramoray worked at, pulling into the parking lot and rushed into the waiting room.

“I need to speak to Dr. Ramoray,“ You informed her.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but we’re old friends,”

“Excuse me?” She looked at you quizzically.

“Can you-- can you just tell him Y/N is here and really needs to talk to him?”

“....Okay…” She looked at you skeptically but stood up and went to find the doctor. After a few minutes Dr. Ramoray walked out and greeted you.

“Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you,” He shook your hand. “Don’t tell me you have another case--”

“No, it’s personal this time doctor,”

“Personal?”

“I...can we…?” You motioned towards the rooms.

“Well...sure, Stella hold my appointments,” He informed his receptionist.

He walked you back and into a patient room. It was lined with charts of the different stages of pregnancy, lists of do’s and don’t during pregnancy, things like that. You took a seat in the regular seats as opposed to the patient stirrups.

“So, how can I help you dear?”

“Well, you know that man I defended?”

“The ADA? Well of course, that’s one day I will never forget,”

“Well he’s my-- husband,” You looked down, hoping that wasn’t a lie.

“I see,” He nodded. “Well, that makes a lot of sense now that I think about it,”

“Right,” You nodded sheepishly. “Well, see we uh-- I got us in a...situation,” You put a hand on your stomach.

“Ah,” He nodded again. “I see,”

“Yeah..”

“And guessing by your argument in court, you’d like to get rid of the...zygote?”

“I don’t know,” You shook your head. “I...I didn’t have the greatest role mode of a mother growing up, and I have no idea how to--” You rubbed your temples. Too much detail.

“Look my husband has the opposite stance on my...views, of a zygote,”

“Well that’s ironic, isn’t it?” He chuckled.

“Yes haha. I just want you--- I just need a picture of this thing to show him it’s just cells, it’s not a--”

“A baby,” he finished for you.

“Right,”

“Well, as you must know due to your research Ms. Y/N, depending on how far along you are it might be impossible to even see the zygote,” He explained.

“Well that’s even better,” You half smiled. “Then it will really prove to him I’m doing nothing wrong-- if I decide to get rid of it,”

“As you wish,” He nodded, gesturing for you to get on the patient table. You laid down on the table and pulled your shirt up, while the doctor got the gooey gel and rubbed it on your stomach. He pulled up a screen that recorded the sonogram, as he ran the scanner over your uterus.

“....Hmm…” He studied the screen intently.

“Hmmm?” You asked. “Hmmm doesn’t sound good,”

“I...well, there seems to be an...issue,”

“Excuse me?” You sat up. “An issue? What kind of issue?”

“Well Ms. Y/N according to this, your uterus is what we would call-- hostile,”

“Hostile?” You half laughed. “Why does that not surprise me…?” You shook your head. Of course you, the cold hearted shark, would have a hostile uterus on top of everything else hostile in your body.

“Yes, see all of this extra tissue? It’s not ideal for a fetus to grow and develop,” He pointed out clouds of white almost filling your uterus. “To be completely honest with you, it’s a miracle you even got pregnant,”

“...Oh Jesus…” You put your hands over your face. “Why...God why…”

“If you decide to terminate this pregnancy, there’s a slim to none chance this will ever happen again,” He continued.

“Great,” You chuckled sarcastically. “So now even NATURE is forcing me to make a choice right now,”

“Well,” He pushed the screen away. “If it helps your decision, there’s an 75% percent chance the baby will even survive full term,”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laughed harder. “So, even if I decide to concede to my husband and go ahead with this, there’s a 25% chance that he’ll get attached to it, and then it will die anyway?!”

“Look Ms. Y/N,” He put a hand on your shoulder. “In my experience, more often than not women with hostile uteruses that do actually get pregnant, end up having perfectly healthy babies. Granted most are preemies, but with today’s technology that’s almost never an issue,”

“...Right,” You shook your head with a dry sarcastic smile, still in disbelief this was all happening.

“And if you don’t mind me saying,” He added. “I really think this is something you should discuss with your husband,”

“I actually really do mind you saying, Doctor,” You said curtly. “I just...I need a minute, can I have a minute?”

“Sure, take a minute. Call him, maybe ask him to come down,”

“...Yeah, right,” You shook your head with a smile as you walked out of the room and down the hall through the waiting room and outside in front of the clinic. You walked over to a small bench off to the side of the walkway into the clinic and sat down, and before you could think your body just erupted in a loud, angry scream.

“....Do you think this is funny, huh?!” You yelled up at the sky. “Is this, what is this, some kind of TEST?” You stood up now as you continued your rant.

“Are you-- are you trying to test how much I love Rafael? Testing just how much I’ve REALLY changed? Or are you just trying to prove to me that I can’t be happy? I can’t have the nice, perfect man, with a perfect family? That I’ll just lose anything good that I touch? You’ve turned my own BODY against me?!” You started to cry in the middle of the grass.

“Why would you do this, huh?” You asked Him. “You know the kind of mother I grew up with, you know I have nothing GOOD to reference on being a mother!” Tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Why would you do this to me? Have I been that shit of a person? Really? I went through...I went through hell and back my entire life, and then I fought like hell for Rafael, for someone who actually loved me, for the very first time in my life! And now-- now you want to take that away from me? Or are you giving me a second chance? TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO!!!!!!!” You screamed, falling to your knees sobbing.

“....Y/N?” A soft voice made you leap to your feet and spin around to see Rafael standing there, his mouth slightly open with a confused look on his face.

“Rafa,” You quickly sucked the rest of your breakdown back into your body, wiping tears away and clearing your throat. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I...I came to support you,” He said softly as he walked closer to you.

“Support me?”

“Well I figured, you came down here to--”

“To what, kill our baby? Without even discussing with you?” You scoffed.

“No!” He cried. “Well, maybe..”

“Right,” You shook your head with a dry laugh.

“But I was going to support you no matter your decision!!” He defended himself.

“Oh well, that’s really big of you Rafael. Coming down here to hold my hand while I abort our child and then breaking up with me as soon as we walked out of here,” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“That’s not--” He shook his head. “Look, I think-- I think that what matters right now is your little...soliloquy there,” He gestured towards the bench where you were having your screaming match at God.

“...Right,”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me about your mother, carino?”

“Why would I, Rafael?” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “I already inadvertently told you I’d never heard the words ‘I love you’ in my life before you, I thought that was pretty obvious I didn’t have the greatest parents,”

“...Fair,” He closed the gap between you, taking your hands. “I’m sorry, I should have taken that into account when were...talking,”

“Arguing,” You clarified.

“Right,” He nodded sadly. “I just-- I ...I’ve always--”

“Yeah, I get it. You’ve always wanted kids. I should have taken that into account when we even started dating. I should have thought this could happen. I’m usually so level headed and ten steps ahead of things, but with you--”

“It’s different,” He finished for you with a sad smile.

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, looking at the ground.

“Well,” He tilted your chin up. “I don’t--I don’t want to impose anything on you, but--”

“But…”

“But...you did just ask the big guy what to do, and I was here,”

“...So you’re saying, God is telling me to go through with this?”

“All I’m stating is facts, Sharky,” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not telling you to do anything, I’m really not. I swear,”

“....Well, you should know all the facts then,” You sighed, leading him back to the bench where you both sat.

“All the facts?” He asked you curiously.

“...Dr. Ramoray says that I have a…’hostile uterus’,” You shook your head with a laugh, just saying it sounded absurd.

“A hostile uterus? You? I’m shocked,” He joked, trying to ease the tension.

“I know right?” You chuckled. “Anyway um-- he said, that it was a miracle I even got pregnant,” You said softly while you played with his hand in yours.

“...A miracle?”” Rafael’s voice perked up a little. Did that mean you were considering it? Surely you wouldn’t have told him that if you were going to get rid of it.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “And um-- he said, he said if I terminated this pregnancy, there was a slim to none chance that I’d ever get pregnant again,” You looked at the ground.

“I see,” He squeezed your hand softly. “So...basically, even mother nature is forcing you to make a life decision right now,”

“That’s what I said!” You looked up into his eyes; you really were so in sync.

“...Which is why you were yelling at God,”

“...Right,” You looked up at the sky. “But there’s another thing,”

“Oh?”

“The doctor said that even if I decide to go ahead with the pregnancy, there’s a 25% chance that it will die anyway,” You looked into his eyes sadly. “Because of course, my body would be just like my mother, rejecting it,” You looked away from him with another sarcastic laugh, thinking of the irony of your situation.

“Hey,” He put a hand on your face, making you look at him. “You are NOT your mother,”

“You didn’t even know her,”

“I know she wouldn’t be wrestling with this decision, would she?”

“No,” You shook your head. “She definitely would not. She made it very clear that my father MADE her have me, because he didn’t believe in abortion,”

“....Like I was trying to do,” He said sadly.

“No baby,” You took his hands. “I know you weren’t trying to force me to do anything,”

“....But I kind of was, when I threatened to leave you,” He looked down in shame.

“No, uh uh,” Now it was your turn to pull his chin upwards. “It’s not the same. Not even close,”

“....So,” He took a deep breath. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“....Well,” You gave him a small smile. “I can’t exactly argue with God for giving me what I asked for, right?”

“Wha--you mean me?”

“I asked him what to do, and here you are,” You pressed your forehead against his. “I’d say that’s a pretty big red flag of an answer,”

“Carino,” His lips curled into a huge smile before they were on yours.

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

----Six Months Later----

You were in your last trimester, and were finally starting to breathe about your impending labor. Every month, every doctor’s appointment, you’d walk into the office with the worst expectations, and every time you were proven wrong. In that time, you had grown attached to your little girl, who you decided to name Isabella. Izzie, for short.

Rafael would talk to Izzie as much as he talked to you, always speaking in Spanish thinking she’d pick it up in the womb. You’d just shake your head with a smile, it was adorable the way he was so excited. It made you even more excited, just seeing him so happy. You had never been so invested in someone else’s emotions other than your own, especially not someone who hadn’t even been born yet. But you loved Izzie already, you would smile to yourself when you’d feel her moving around inside you. It was like she was snuggling you in her own little cocoon inside you.

However, on the day of your baby shower, all of your new hopes and dreams came crashing down. You were doing your makeup, humming and bouncing along with the Spotify playlist you had playing-- when you felt it. A sharp, overwhelming pain struck your abdomen, causing you to hunch over, falling to your knees.

“RAFAEL!!!!!” You screamed as your insides felt like they were being stabbed everywhere. Everything you had feared was coming true.

Rafael sprinted into your bathroom half dressed and instantly was down next to you.

“Y/N, baby what’s wrong?” He asked frantically, checking your body everywhere as you writhed in pain and began to cry.

“It’s...Izzie,” You sobbed, knowing what was happening. “I’m losing her,”

“Oh God,” Rafael dialed 911 while he tried to help you stand. When he saw your pelvis however, he stopped moving you.

“What?” You asked in a panicked tone. “What is it?”

“You’re...You’re bleeding, Y/N,” His eyes began to fill with tears as he watched you quickly begin to bleed out in front of him.

“What?” You tried desperately to look down at yourself, all you saw was a pool of blood running down the floor to your feet. Everything started to go fuzzy, you could barely hear Rafael screaming on the phone for someone to hurry up and come to your rescue. Pretty soon, you blacked out completely.

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

The next thing you knew you were waking up in a hospital bed with a nurse taking your vitals.

“Welcome back, Ms. Y/N,” She smiled sweetly. “We almost lost you there,”

“...Lost me?” You looked at her in confusion before looking down at your stomach. A huge bandage was wrapped around your torso, covering several stitches and tubes coming out of your pelvis.

“Oh my god,” You whispered, beginning to panic again. “Oh my god, oh my god--”

“Whoa whoa calm down sweetie,” The nurse tried to keep you from squirming around. “You’ll pop your stitches,”

“Where’s Izzie? Where’s Rafael?” You asked her as you started to hyperventilate.

“Your husband ran to get a coffee” She assured you. “And um, your-- your baby is…”

“She’s dead, isn't she?” You began to sob. “I killed her,”

“No! No ma’am,” She shook her head. “Well, I mean she-- she is-- gone,” She said sadly. “But you did NOT kill her,”

“No, just my hostile body,” You continued to sob.

“Look I’m-- I’ll be right back,” She rushed out of the room, leaving you crying and screaming in horror and guilt.

After a few minutes, Rafael was bursting into the room, instantly at your side and taking your shaking body in his arms. He was still covered in your blood, he hadn’t dared to leave your side since they had gotten you there.

“I killed her, Rafa,” You sobbed into his chest. “I knew it, I knew this would happen. I’m broken inside, I told you I was broken,”

“Shhh, no no no mi amor,” He whispered as he tried to not start crying himself. “Shhhh, you’re-- you’re not broken,”

“I am!!!” You sobbed harder. “I killed our baby, just like I knew I would. It’s the one thing I was supposed to give you,”

“...Shh, baby I know. It’s okay, it’s alright--” He looked up at the sky as he began to cry himself.

“No it’s not, it’s not okay!!” Your sobs became heavier, you could barely breathe. All of your fears were coming true, you were being punished. You lost your child and now you were going to lose the love of your life. “Please don’t leave me, Please please please,”

“What?” He suddenly looked back down at you, pulling you from his chest. “Why would I--”

“I KILLED OUR BABY!!!!!!!!” You screamed. “That’s the ONE thing you asked me not to do!! The one thing! And I did it anyway!!!”

“NO, you did NOT,” He took both of your shoulders. “You did not kill our baby, do you hear me? You tried so hard, you took such good care of Izzie, carino--” He started to cry again as he said her name.

“She’s dead, Rafael,” You had just started to get your sobs under control until you saw him cry. You hated seeing him cry. You hated being the reason he was crying. “She’s dead!”

“And so were you!” He said through his tears. “You died on that table, they told me. But you came back to me,”

“....What?” Now you started to control your crying in shock from this new information.

“We may have lost Izzie, but I almost lost both of you. And I-- I don’t think I would have survived that,” He was still crying. “I...I’m devastated about Izzie, but I’m grateful you’re alive,”

“....Even though I’m broken?” You sniffled.

“You are not broken, mi amor,” He shook his head as he kissed your forehead, getting his own emotions to calm down. “...And if you still don’t believe me, then I promise you, I will spend the rest of our lives putting you back together,”

“....Okay,” You whispered, finally relaxing into his arms as he laid back against the wall.

“I love you, Y/N,” He whispered as he stroked your hair. “I will always love you, no matter what,”

“I love you too,” You sniffled as you started to fall asleep against his chest.

You wanted to believe him, but you knew deep down inside: You’d always be broken.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba one shot #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fanfiction #angst #tw abortion #tw miscarriage #law and order svu fanfiction

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unmitigatedsuperiority · 3 years

Text

Words Ain't Enough

Summary: After a particularly rough case, JJ seeks out some comfort from an old friend. Emily wishes things were different.

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Emily Prentiss

Word count: 3.0k

Category: Hurt/comfort, angst

Rating: T

Warnings: Alcohol use, allusions to sex, mentions of blood and death, emotional cheating/allusions to cheating, general angst

AO3 Link

This is the first fic I've ever written so please be nice 🥺

Emily had made the conscious and totally logical decision to raid her hotel room’s minibar tonight. Less in celebration and more in relief that this week’s case was finally over. Not that it’d ever really be out of her head. She knew the girl’s lifeless eyes would be in her dreams tonight. Hopefully with enough vodka she could drown it out and have a semi-restful, dreamless sleep.

Emily was good at compartmentalizing. She’d seen lots of horrible things over the years and had gotten worryingly good at shoving her emotions so far down that they barely registered at all anymore. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Numb. It sure as hell beat whatever the fuck she was feeling right now.

She ignored the way her hands shook as she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the mini fridge. Her mind was going a mile a minute, replaying everything that went wrong. She should’ve known the unsub was armed; should’ve reacted faster. She’d never felt as useless as she did then, clawing at her own clothes, ripping off what she could to help stop the bleeding except it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. If she thought back to the beginning of that night, she could pinpoint the exact moment things started going wrong. From the team getting split up to the flaws in the profile to the unexpected change in location. Emily’s brain was like her own personal greatest hits show except it was all fear and blood and death and –

Sitting down in front of the mini fridge, she unscrewed the top of the bottle and only hesitated for a second before she downed the liquid. She winced as it burned in her throat on the way down, settling in her stomach. She knew drinking wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but then again, she wasn’t the healthiest person. And tonight called for special circumstances.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her hotel room door.

Emily glanced at the clock and saw 1:40 AM flashing back at her in a particularly aggressive shade of red. It was pretty late. What could possibly be going on now?

Vaguely aware of the fact that she was only in an old tank top and shorts with a hole in the butt, she pushed herself off the ground and walked towards the door. She flung the door open, prepared to send off whoever it was with maybe a bit too much vitriol, but when she saw the blonde standing there, her mind was immediately put at ease.

“Oh, it’s you,” Emily said, mostly to herself. She couldn’t help but scan her eyes down the other woman’s body. Even in an old, oversized t-shirt, JJ was beautiful.

It was probably Will’s shirt. The thought made her stomach turn sour. While Emily was happy for JJ and Will – she was, yes, she was, she totally was – it still hurt to think that she was no longer the first person JJ would go to when things went south on a case or when she got good news or when she just needed some… stress relief. For a while they had a sort of unspoken arrangement, but that ended quickly with the pregnancy and the engagement and, well… she was with Will now. This couldn’t happen anymore. While seeing JJ every day and not being able to hold, to touch, to comfort her made Emily feel like someone reached down and hollowed out her insides, she could still be there as a friend. And damn it if she wasn’t going to try to be the best friend JJ ever had.

Emily couldn’t help but notice that JJ looked worse for wear much like herself. Her brow was slightly furrowed, and she was biting her lip – a nervous habit. “What’s going on?” Emily offered.

“I just… this case. It’s getting to me, you know?” JJ looked up, something unintelligible written across her face. “Can I come in? Please?”

Emily nodded and held the door open for her. JJ allowed herself an appreciative smile before stepping into the other woman’s bedroom. Emily eyed her as the other agent glanced around the room, pretending not to notice the empty bottle on top of the minifridge. Emily looked away as JJ sat on the bed, her shirt riding up just enough to show off her upper thighs. God, Emily missed those thighs. She cleared her throat and willed the blush away from her cheeks as she took a seat next to JJ, pointedly looking at the wall in front of them. “So, what’s up?” she sighed, hoping to get the concern in voice across more than the blush in her cheeks.

JJ let out a breath and put her head in her hands. A beat passed before she spoke. “I can’t stop thinking about that girl.” Emily instantly understood. JJ made some tough calls that night and was ultimately the first person at the victim’s side after the shooting. It couldn’t have been easy on her. “I mean, we were wrong, and she paid the price for it. It shouldn’t have turned out like that. It should’ve been me I –” JJ went silent as her fingers embedded themselves further in her hair, her chin tucking into her chest, folding in on herself.

Emily hated to hear her talk this way. Like her decisions were questionable, like her life was expendable. She gingerly wrapped an arm around the distraught agent and pulled her into her chest. “Shhh…it’s okay. No one could’ve predicted what happened. You did what you thought was best. It’s not your fault,” Emily whispered as JJ tucked her face into the crook of Emily’s neck. She rubbed small circles into her back and sat there, letting the other woman take all the time she needed, emotions coming to a peak and then softly crashing down, wave after wave. She placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. As awful as it was seeing the woman that she deeply cared for be in pain, Emily had missed these moments. No matter how tough this job got, she knew she was safe at JJ’s side, the two of them leaning into each other, folding under the weight of the case, letting themselves feel what they had to until their breaths would eventually slow, and they would just sit there, leaving everything unsaid but nothing unaddressed. See, they didn’t always need words to understand what the other was feeling. Sometimes they’d give each other a look, and then fall into this routine of care and comfort and words unspoken.

Emily couldn’t pinpoint how much time had passed before JJ spoke. “It’s okay,” she treaded lightly. “If you need to talk. Or cry. Whatever you need to feel. You were also close to everything that happened and I just….” JJ trailed off. Emily smiled sadly at her. She missed having someone who cared enough to see her cry.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth. JJ knew she was lying – Emily knew that. She still did it anyway. It was easier than the alternative. Easier than falling apart and showing a side of herself she never showed anyone.

JJ let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed her hand, sending a faint current of electricity up Emily’s arm and down her spine. She pulled Emily down onto the bed with her, so they were lying side by side. Falling back into their old routine after a particularly rough case. When words weren’t enough, and closeness was the only thing that quieted their haunting thoughts.

Emily looked over to find JJ staring at her. She couldn’t quite get a read on the expression on her face before JJ turned over and wrapped her arm around Emily’s torso. She welcomed the weight of JJ’s arm over her abdomen, her own personal weighted blanket. It was comforting. Emily splayed her hands up and down the smooth expanse of her shoulders and back, as if she was hoping she could absorb some of the pain the blonde was feeling. She wasn’t JJ’s go-to for emotional support anymore – that was Will’s job now – and she’d be lying if she said that fact didn’t make her heart ache. But she still accepted this role eagerly and with grace when it was needed. She’d absorb all the pain in the world into herself if it meant that JJ could be at peace. She was used to pain after all, and an expert at shoving the dark stuff deep, deep down into her psyche, until it rested far beneath the surface. Like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

The two women laid there on top of the hotel bed, holding on as if the other was the only stable thing left in the world. Occasionally JJ would pull Emily in closer, and if Emily returned the gesture by strengthening her hold on the blonde, no one had to know. JJ nestled her face into Emily’s neck and Emily allowed her head to rest on JJ’s. She felt the blonde’s breathing eventually slow to a more even pace as the anxiety melted away, bit by bit. No words needed to be said.

Emily was acutely aware of the way JJ’s legs curled up and their knees rubbed against each other, the way JJ was lightly tracing over Emily’s side with her thumb, arm not moving from its position across her waist. She was close enough to smell JJ’s shampoo: something floral and calming, like lily or jasmine. She could feel the faint outline of her lips where her neck met her shoulder and it made Emily’s mind race.

They hadn’t done this in a while, but it was just as familiar as breathing. The way JJ’s body slot perfectly into hers, the comfortable silence and mutual understanding… sometimes Emily felt like she needed to hold JJ in the same way that she needed air in her lungs.

Glancing down at the blonde, Emily suddenly felt the need to tell her everything. Her favorite place to go to growing up, her mixed feelings about orange juice, her unwavering love for the other woman. She almost felt nauseous at how badly she suddenly wanted to speak. Like she had a weight on her chest, a metaphorical one far heavier than the beautiful woman laying on top of her. JJ was always encouraging her to open up. And realizing that she had no idea when they would be this close, this alone, again, almost made her want to. But Emily knew what would happen. And it wasn’t a particularly happy ending. Taking a deep breath, she decided that she would open up, just a little bit, in a different way. Anything to get JJ to stay a bit longer. Besides, she probably should talk about what happened out there today. After several minutes of silence and breathing and just holding each other, Emily spoke.

“She reminded me of myself.”

JJ lifted her head up and gazed at the brunette. Emily rarely spoke about her feelings unless it was surface level or in a joking way. She felt JJ’s eyes on her as she continued staring straight ahead, purposefully avoiding the vulnerability that eye contact would bring. She continued before JJ could say anything.

“When I was talking to her the other day, everything she said… I knew exactly how she felt. That’s kind of what I was like at her age.” Emily dryly chuckled as she gripped the arm that was slung across her stomach, settling for touch instead of eye contact. “I think in a way…I looked after her as though she was me. When I was that age. There’s a lot of things I would do differently, and I guess I sort of felt like I could help her, outside of this case.” She looked down and JJ held onto her tighter. It was a several moments before she spoke again. “I failed her,” she voiced, barely a whisper.

JJ sat up a little and placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You didn’t fail her,” she started. “You did everything you could. It’s like you said, no one could have predicted what happened.” She trailed her hand up and down Emily’s arm before leaving her hand at the dip where her shoulder met her neck. “For what it’s worth, I think you did have a real impact on her. What happened was tragic but don’t for one second think you didn’t make a difference. Because you did, of course you did.” Her next words were barely a whisper. “You always do.” JJ stared into Emily’s pensive eyes with the utmost seriousness. Because she meant every word she said. Emily slowly sat up and met her gaze, trying to communicate appreciation and gratitude and love and everything that words couldn’t say. She tentatively placed her hand on JJ’s hip and began to run her thumb up and down, as if that small gesture of comfort could say what Emily couldn’t, and as if her hand on her hip could hold the blonde down before reality snatched her away again.

JJ glanced at Emily’s lips for the flitting moment. So brief, Emily nearly thought she’d made it up. But then it happened again. And just like that the air in the room shifted. And Emily felt the alcohol coursing through her body.

Whether it was the vodka that loosened her inhibitions, or she was just getting drunk off JJ’s gentle looks and touches, she couldn’t believe what she was about to do.

Emily slowly leaned in, as if some gravitational force was pulling every atom in her being closer and closer. Slowly, she brushed her lips over the corner of JJ’s mouth, planting a feather-light kiss there. The blonde let out the smallest gasp at the contact. When JJ didn’t pull away, she slowly turned her head and did the same to the other side. She heard JJ gulp, and hoped the other woman couldn’t hear the way her heart was hammering in her chest. She ghosted over JJ’s lips, feeling like every nerve ending in her body was on fire.

JJ’s grip tightened on Emily’s waist, and she ran her other hand further up her neck, like she couldn’t get close enough. Though her words told a different story. “We can’t,” JJ practically whispered, but she wasn’t pulling away. Then again, she wasn’t closing the minuscule amount of space left between them, either. This is where they existed, their feelings for each other, in limbo. They stayed like that, breathing in time to a melody that only they knew.

“It’s just us,” Emily gently countered. “Inside this hotel room, away from the real world… it’s just us.” She tangled a hand in JJ’s hair, playing with the ends. JJ let out a shaky breath and inched her lips the tiniest bit closer when she just as suddenly pulled away.

“I can’t do that to Will.” JJ avoided eye contact and instead stared at her hands which were now resting in her lap. Emily yearned for their touch once more. She sighed and placed a hand on JJ’s cheek, redirecting her gaze back at her, and looking at her as if for the first and last time. The blonde leaned into her touch, smiling sadly and lightly kissing the other woman’s palm. JJ’s blue eyes were piercing in a way that made Emily’s heart hurt, conveying all the emotions that they needed to keep locked away.

“At least stay with me,” Emily pleaded. She traced along the curves of her cheek with her thumb. “Just for tonight. Just until morning.” JJ closed her eyes and inhaled the subtle scents of Emily. Vodka and sandalwood. She opened her eyes with newfound resolve.

“Okay,” she breathed. Emily returned her sad smile. This is what it had to be. She pulled JJ back down onto the bed, lifting up the comforter over their heads, shielding away the world from this precious bubble they had. JJ curled into Emily, and Emily wrapped her arms tightly around the other woman. They both sighed, exhaling everything that could never be said. They were soldiers at war, fiercely protecting each other’s’ lives and guarding each other’s’ hearts, and this off-white hotel comforter was their first line of defense. Beyond this bed, this room, things would be different. But at this moment in time, they could hold each other. And that would have to be enough. Slowly, their breaths became shallow, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms, hearts beating in sync.

That night Emily dreamed of ocean blue eyes, soft hands, and lilies.

When Emily awoke, it was to an empty bed. She turned over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 6:57. Almost time to wake up and get ready to go to the jet. She flipped back over and glanced at the empty space before her, the subtle indent left in the bed. She brushed her hand over the side where JJ used to be, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent of floral shampoo and something else that was all too familiar. If she were to open her eyes, she’d have to get up and face the harsh reality that lay before her. The one where JJ does not love her, at least not in the way that Emily wants. Where JJ would be by her side at all times, but only in the workplace. Only professionally.

As the sun crested over the buildings outside and peeked in through the blinds, Emily soaked in its warmth, along with everything else she could before she got up. She didn’t want to let go of the night before. So, she basked in it instead. Her, this bed, and the ghost of the woman she loves, closed off from the rest of the world. Echoes of what could have been scattered about in the smallest crevices and the darkest corners of this hotel room. And for now, that would have to be enough.

masterlist | taglist

#criminal minds #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds fic #fanfiction #jemily fanfiction #jemily angst #fics by rj

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oreo-4556 · 4 years

Text

The thing that hurts the most,that has always hurt the most is the fact that Lexa really and honestly to God was the only pure person of the entire show.

Her life was never hers to begin with.

She became commander at 12 years old,before that she had to train from the second she learnd how to walk,probably lost her family early on and had to kill every single novitiate that had been with her since forever.

All she had ever known was violence blood and death.

Then comes Costia her first love,probably the only person who she could still be a kid with,but then was violently ripped away from her and killed..imagine finding the head of the woman you love in your bed, imagine that and the pain guilt and trauma that comes with it.

And still all she did was what was right for her people and not herself..from that moment on Lexa didn't exist anymore,only Heda Leksa.

Then come the sky people and that was the beginning of the end for her.

She lost Gustus and Anya,her mentors who were probably both some kind of parental figures for her..and she had to kill one of them..again think about the pain and trauma of this loss too.

On top of all this her people demand blood and justice from the sky people and Lexa has all these decisions to make while constantly dealing in silence and secret with all the pain and the losses she endured.

And then comes Clarke...the love of her life and maybe at the same time her demise.

Lexa had known since she was a child that commanders don't live long,she had made peace with that a long time ago,but still somehow somewhere she harboured hope in a corner of her soul that things could change,that things didn't need to always be so violent and bloody,that maybe war wasn't the answer every time.

And Clarke,well Clarke gave Lexa all the courage she needed to set things in motion...Lexa had already created a coalition between the clans,a clear sign that peace was her plan all along,she knew that time was the one thing commanders didn't have though.

Clarke made Lexa believe that together they could have peace,they could live without war and blood and death.

But most importantly,Clarke made Lexa believe in love like she never did before.

Lexa loved Clarke from the very first moment she laid eyes on her and both their first words to each other were "You're the one.." ,Lexa loved Clarke with all her heart even when she had to choose her people over her making that her biggest regret,a regret she had to live with knowing that she had to always put her people first. She thought she had lost every possible chance with Clarke she thought that again "love is weakness", but she hadn't and it wasn't..and Clarke,well Clarke loved Lexa when it was already too late.

Lexa was killed in the most tragic way and in the exact moment where all she actually wanted was to live and love.

She had started to believe that maybe for her it could be different,maybe she could hope for both peace and love..maybe she could be the first commander to actually die of old age.

That unfortunately wasn't the case.

She died killed by accident by her last parental figure who had been with her since she arrived to Polis.

She died having had Clarke and knowing that Clarke loved her,but she died nevertheless in the moment she wanted to live the most.

She promised Clarke to always be with her,she found Clarke again in the City of Light,in another dimension,she protected and saved Clarke and with her the human race once again sacrificing herself in the meantime.

Lexa has saved and protected and guided Clarke everywhere she went,no planet or dimension or time could keep her apart from her.

Lexa has always been with Clarke,exactly like she promised.

But in the end was it worth it?

The human race will go extinct forever and Lexa died for nothing,because even though they are soulmates and star crossed lovers,they didn't get their "maybe someday" together.

Yes,she was Clarke's greatest love teacher and failure(Clarke has always felt guilt and regret for not being able to save her) all at the same time,and somehow she found in a way Clarke again by accompanying her to her "next and last shore" and she did find it "in love", but her love died so long ago and yet she was all Clarke wanted but couldn't have.

Lexa gave Clarke her "maybe someday",but she wouldn't be with her to live it like she deserved.

And if there was one person in this damn story who deserved happiness and to finally be free of the weight of the world was Lexa Kom Trikru.

But instead all we got was a simple confirmation of what we all already knew and it breaks my heart all over again knowing that Lexa could have come back like Emori did,but instead Jason made sure that that wasn't possible by destroying the flame exactly before Judgment Day,the flame he so adamantly repeated was "eternal" apparently wasn't, seeing as all it took was destroying it..if it was so easy to destroy there's no point in saying it's eternal in the first place.

So yeah,I'm heart broken all over again, after 4 and a half years I'm back exactly where the pain started,but maybe it's even worse knowing that this time there is no way or time to fix the story.

Knowing that there is no happy ending for Lexa.

#lexa #clexa #alycia debnam carey #adc #heda lexa #commander lexa #the 100 #The100 #the100 #clarke x lexa #lexa x clarke #clexa soulmates #soulmates #endgame #star crossed lovers #meus #reshop heda

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jojo-fantasy-aus · 3 years

Text

Fantasy AU!

Josuke x F! Reader- CH 1.

First post, yay! This will be a longer series, so feel free to give me any criticism or suggestions!

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Being born into a peasant family was definitely not the greatest way to secure a happy life, but you made due with it. Your mother was a seamstress, father a carpenter, and you made it a point to learn everything you could from both of them. The more skills you had, the more likely you were to get a better job, and in turn, create a better life for you and your family.

And that was exactly what you did. You managed to get a job at the Royal Palace, a favor from some family friends, and quickly moved up the ranks. Everyone knew that it was because you were kind, and had made a good impression on the king, but you'd rather say that it was because of all the hard work you had done.

You had been the head lady-in-waiting for some time now, and had thought you'd seen everything. The Crown Princess, your beautiful best friend, tended to always get into some sort of trouble. You always made a point to try and prepare yourself for any incoming inconveniences, but today was... different.

"I just don't understand why Father makes me go to these things!" You hummed in response, currently focused on lacing up the powder pink dress she was to wear tonight. The beautiful fabrics elegantly draping just below her ankles, you regarded the dress with pride, it was one of your mother's designs. She was over the moon when Yukako asked for one to be made for the People's Gala.

The People's Gala was more of a festival than anything. An outdoor event, and favorite of everyone in the kingdom. The festival was a kindness the king gave the commoners every year to show his gratitude. It was a wonderful tool to keep the everyone in the kingdom happy.

"Well, there isn't another crown princess to attend for you, Yukako." She huffed, standing patiently still as you tightened her corset to a breathable squeeze. You checked her hem for any stains or rips once more, and stood once you were done, making sure she could move around just fine. Smiling a bit when you remembered something that was sure to lift her spirits.

"You know, rumor around the Palace is that the page boy you like will be attending. Koichi Hirose, was it?" Yukako's icy face lifted immediately, excitedly turning around to clutch your hands. She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly closed it. Brows furrowed, frowning. You already knew what she was thinking. A ball of sadness and empathy forming in the pit of your chest.

"I'm sure he wouldn't want to see me again. Not after what happened." You had almost forgotten. You sighed, the princess had... a bit of a manic episode a while back. Focusing on Koichi in an... unhealthy amount. Needless to say, he had become quite wary of her. But she still snuck glances at him when she attended the royal library during her studies. You had never been in love yourself, but you knew enough about it to know she had it bad.

"I'm sure he won't be too flighty Yukako. At least you will be able to see him once again?" You murmur half-heartedly, briskly making your way around the room to blow out rose-sented candles and put things you had used to get her ready back in place.

"I suppose..." you let out a pitiful chuckle, hoping that your friend would feel better once she was at the gala. It had become her favorite, but only because she always seemed to be able to speak to Koichi as he shadowed the head page during the king's speech. You didn’t actually know Koichi that well, so you hoped for the princess' sake that he had forgiving mannerisms.

You quickly brought the Princess' shoes out, and laced up your own boots as she put them on. Smoothing out your plain blue skirt as you stood, you held out an arm to escort the princess. Usually it was unseemly to see a woman escorting another, but Yukako refused to let anyone else escort her. The king only allowed it because you managed to keep her out of trouble. (It was also partly due to the fact that she was too infatuated with Koichi to have eyes for a woman.)

The walk down to the palace gates was unfortunately, and uncomfortably, long. Yukako was squirming in her corset the entire time, desperately trying to look ladylike while she did. You tapped her arm lightly, a simple reminder to keep her composure. Servants and cooks were running around the ground floor like crazy, frantically trying to get everything together. Weaving in and out if the fray was quite tiring, but eventually the two of you made it to the gates unscathed.

Vendor tents were proped up as far as the eye could see, sweet smells floating in the breeze to antagonize those who had not yet eaten. The guards let you through with a wave as you and Yukako prepared yourselves for the onslaught of people along the streets.

The tents were all decorated beautifully, flowers and suns and other symbols painted on the cloth roofing. The setting sun casting a beautiful golden hue on everything and everyone. Those who recognized the princess bowed and curtsied as you passed, and those who didn't just waved and gawked at her beautiful dress. Some simply said nothing, as her cold outside demeanor seemed a bit intimidating. You knew yourself that she could be a bit scary when she wanted to be, but right now she was in awe. Looking at all the vendors with a sparkle in her eye. It was good to see her be herself in public for once.

"Try not to get too enamored, Princess, your father wants us to meet him for his speech. Knowing him we'll be there all day." You mused, leading her through the crowd carefully, keeping away from alleys and sketchy figures. You knew you were probably being overly cautious, but for some reason you just felt the need to be careful. Nerves welling in your stomach telling you so. Having always had correct gut feelings, you search for something else to focus on to mask the concern, not wanting Yukako to lose her cool herself.

You thought about that for a moment, no, Yukako would never be thrown into a panic due to gut feelings. She'd be a bit more defensive maybe, but she'd never let weakness like that show.

Every once and a while you would pass a few royal guardsmen watching over the festival, you made a point to wave at them when you could to make sure they were watching you and the princess. This settling sense of anxiety was pointless, you knew, but you certainly would rather take precautions then suffer the consequences.

At last, you had finally made it to the gazebo. Elegant white and gold trim framed the marble pillars, ceiling slumped in a slender tent-shape. It had been freshly cleaned, but the doves still fluttered about in the rafters. The king was atop a temporary throne, speaking to his advisors. The knights at all four corners bowed as you two carefully ascended the steps.

"Yukako! Dear, just who I wanted to see!" The king cheered when he spotted her, calling out your name just after. The king was a rather large, jolly man. He wasn't quite handsome, not to the point of being ugly, but needless to say it was hard to believe that Yukako had come from, well, him. The king's crown sat grandly upon his head, dressed in fine fabrics and deep indigo colors he certainly looked the part for his title.

"I assume that there were no problems arriving?"

"No, your majesty." The words fell from your mouth robotically, more of a reflex than an answer at this point.

"Wonderful!" The king started to ramble on as he does, and your thoughts drifted to lunch, the chores awaiting you at home. You wanted to think about anything that could make the time possible pass faster. The king continued to drone on, always prone to these things. Yukako herself looked like she was about to fall asleep from boredom. Her arm slipped out of yours quite a bit ago, but you hadn't really noticed. Blankly staring at the king as he spoke about the splendid flower arrangements, and the farms that they came from.

"Yes your majesty, the hydrangeas are quite beautiful." He heartily laughed, sending a friendly wink your way.

"They always have been Yukako's favorite! Ever since she was a girl she- Yukako?" The king looked around with a confused look, you didn't understand why. The princess was right next to you-

But then again, she wasn't. She had disappeared from you side. You spun a around in a panic, searching through the wide, open, gazebo. She was nowhere to be found. You were right about the gut feeling yet again, weren't you. Panic built up from your stomach and pushed into your chest, overwhelming any other sense.

"Princess?" You try your best to push the words out of your throat, turning to the side exit. Your eyes desperately search through the crowd. The king was talking to you, words muffled, you had blocked everything out, just until you saw a flash of pink in the crowd.

"Hurry and find her!" And just like that, you took off in a sprint. Calling for her as you pushed through the crowd. Your heart was pounding in your ears. Didn't she know how dangerous this was? The least gaurded festival of them all and she decided to disappear like that? Was it even her own decision to run off, or was she taken. You didn't know, and you certainly couldn't rationize anything right now.

The methodical feeling of your boots hitting the ground and pushing you forward was what you focused on to keep you calm. Step, push. Step, push. Rinse and repeat until you had almost collected your witts. There!-A flash of her pink skirt around the corner. You had found her. Or, you did, before your foot skidded across the gravel, and you plummeted to the ground. You slammed against the gravel, hard.

"Whoah! Are you ok?" You pushed yourself off the ground as quickly as you could, but a pair of hands steadied you as you stood. They belonged to a taller man, blue eyes peering at you quizzically. He was a muscular build, probably a knight, you assumed. His hair was done up in such away that you would assume he was a royal, if it weren't his dirtied chain mail armor. You certainly had no time to gawk however. You tried to take off running once again, but he caught your arm.

"Let me go!"

"Just hold on a moment, would you? Why the rush? Are you being chased?" You didn’t have time for these questions! To no avail you tried to tug your arm away from him. And when you realized he wouldn't let you go you blurted out the only thing you could think of in that moment.

"The princess is missing, I'm trying to find her, so let- Go!" His eyes widened, grip loosening for a split second, just enough for you to slip away. Once again sprinting in the direction you saw her last, turning the corner. The guy who had let you go was calling for you, and somehow made it to your side almost impossibly quick.

The crowd started to become denser as the pathways winded farther away from the gazebo. Carts rumbling around the walkways and vendors passing out samples in the streets. Unwillingly you had started to slow, the man pulling ahead of you by just a bit.

It was hard to pay attention to the people around you while you searched for Yukako. Bumping into one person and then another as you squeezed through the crowds. Turning your head just a bit you saw that the man still had an eyes on you. Peering over his shoulder as he ran. He mouthed something to you that you couldn't quite understand.

You almost tripped again when he grabbed your hand, and yanked you into a makeshift alleyway.

"What the hell do you think your doing!?" You yanked your hand away from him, running back to the entrance and trying to peer over the dense amount of people. Nothing. You started to get angry. Yukako could be in danger and you had lost her trail thanks to him.

"I'm helping you find your princess." You wiped around in rage, a mouthful of words ready to fire. But once you looked past him, you saw that characteristically long hair, powder pink dress dirtied from her disappearance. A little man with silver hair, Koichi, defensively standing in front of her. You stood in shock, he did help you find her.

"Oh, Josuke! Its just you," Koichi dropped his defensive demeanor, and Yukako's eyes followed him, completely enamored. She hardly even notice your disheveled, panicked self next to the handsome stranger that Koichi apparently knew.

"Yeah, sorry for the interruption-" Your shock started to wear off a bit as they talked, relief and anger overwhelming your senses. Yukako was actually smiling as she watched Koichi talk though, at least she was happy.

That's what you wanted to think anyway. You were too overwhelmed with emotion to think if anything but the fact that she wasn't hurt, and she was certainly not dead. Both men looked at you quizzically as you passed them and wrapped Yukako in a hug.

"Yukako, what were you thinking?!" You had started to tear up, holding onto her tightly. You had forgotten about formalities just this once, thankful that your friend was ok. Once you let go of her she simply shrugged, pointing a sour look at you. Making eye contact and flicking her eyes to Koichi and back. Oh.

You eyed Koichi with suspicion, and he immediately stiffened up, starting to ramble.

"I'm sorry! I was just enjoying the festival and then I saw Yuka- her highness! And I thought she was lost so I-" Honestly it became harder to understand what he was saying the more he went on. The man from before, Josuke? Clapped a hand on Koichi's back, and he started to chill out a bit. Josuke looked up at you with a slight smile, and you almost blushed. He was quite handsome. You cleared your throat.

"I suppose I should thank you. I'm sorry for the rudeness." He laughed, and you knew you were blushing, you tried your best to suppress whatever spell he had you under, treating it as a simple, shallow emotion that you wanted to rid yourself of.

"Don't sweat it," He said curtly. "You had me thinking that she was in danger though, I'm a little pissed at that. But I don't mind." The crude words almost hung in the air, it was strange to hear people cursing so openly. You used to have the mouth of a sailor yourself, until the proper poise of the castle servants started to rub off on you too. Lord help the soul who curses in front of the king.

"I know that her highness can be a bit unmanageable sometimes." His eyes grew serious, looking dead at you like the Princess wasn't even there. You could feel Yukako prickle behind you. She was definitely pissed. your face had twisted in a foul way at his words as well, but you pushed out a sigh, pushing down the defensive words you wanted to say because you knew he was right.

Koichi started to complain at Josuke's attitude and you almost felt relieved when his serious gaze shifted away from your own. You turned back to Yukako with a sigh as the friends bicker. She still had her eyes squarely on Koichi.

"Yukako, what happened?" You whisper, lacing your hands together to resist popping your knuckles or fidgeting. Yukako folds her arms, dark gaze pointed at you once again. You probably would've been afraid if it weren't for the fact that you knew her well enough that she wasn't going to pose any threat as long as Koichi was around.

"I'm not going to apologize because I'm not sorry. The old man should've known how boring his speeches were anyway." She explains why she ran off, Koichi was in the crowd, he waved, mouthing something to her. She ran over to him on impulse, and he panicked, trying to get her somewhere where there were less people, and where there was less of a chance of her getting hurt.

She started to blush when she started to get to the end, you suppose that something more happened between her and Koichi that she was leaving out, but didn't press. Instead, you raise your eyebrows at Yukako with a slight smile. She playfully swats you away, fully flustered now.

Neither of you knew what to do when you heard the screaming.

It was everywhere, women, children, and men alike, the crowd outside the alley clearing out fast, people frantically running from something or someone. You slowly step forward to stand beside Josuke, Koichi backing away to make sure yukako was ok. You tried to peer over the crowd looking for what the commotion was all about.

You yelp as someone yanks you back, but you already knew who it was, recognizing the restrained tug. You snap your head up to spit out a retort at Josuke, but the words die in your throat, he was focused on something that you couldn't see. His eyes set in a terrifying manner, you couldn't tell if the fear stinging in your chest was because of him or the mass panic. His hand remained on your back, softly holding onto you.

"...Jo…Josuke…" Koichi's cough causes you to jump, heart pounding in your ears as you and Josuke whipped around. Both Yukako and Koichi were in a coughing fit, a mysterious gas filling the back of the alley. You didn't think it was even possible for any more panic to settle in your chest until you saw Yukako double over, falling to the ground in her fit. Koichi fell beside her as you ran to them. Josuke was calling for you to come back but you could only hear the blood rushing in your ears.

The moment you stepped into the mist it felt like you couldn't breath. The gas ripping coughs out of your chest, lighting your lungs on fire and leaving you to struggle to push out the smoke. Your eyesight became blurry as you saw figures step out of the thickest part of the mist.

"N...no…" You struggled out, watching as they picked the two of them up.The insignia on their backs burning into your memory. Your eyes began to get heavier and heavier, you started to slip into the abyss.

You didn't know how Josuke pulled you out of the mist. In fact, you didn't even realize you were out until you were in his arms as he ran. You tried to speak, but only a groan came out. It was hard to focus, hard to stay awake… Everything was hazy and hard to understand.

"Don't you fall asleep on me, ok?" Your chest felt wet and sticky, a pain in your chest starting to reveal itself. Were you bleeding? You couldn't think straight. What had happened? Where were Koichi and the Princess? You could hear arrows whiz past you and Josuke. He cursed under his breath, and you weakly held onto him as he made a sharp turn.

He suddenly stopped. Shit. Dead end. He held you a little tighter as his face shifted into something unreadable. You were beginning to wake up more, but the pain in your chest remained constant. Josuke suddenly set you down with an apology as he set you against a wall to keep your balance, hands grazing your waist as he pulled away. It was getting easier to focus, you pressed a hand to where the pain was centered on your chest, sticky blood coating your hand when you took it away.

You almost felt faint, the adrenaline starting to set in again. You frantically looked for Josuke again, scared that he had left you. You spotted him at the very end of the alley, flinching as the sound of metal on concrete echoed off the walls. Josuke was catching his breath after setting the sewer grate down, facing you slightly.

"We're going in there, aren't we." You murmured, the anxiety returning as shouting grew closer to the alley. Josuke let out a pained laugh as he quickly made his way back to you. Helping you hobble over to the open grate. He hopped in first and you sat down, feet dangling through the hole, when you managed to move in just the wrong angle. A stabbing pain shot through your chest and you sucked in breath, unable to move.

Thank God Josuke noticed, a worried look flashed across his face. He grabbed your arm with one hand and hooked the other under your knees, awkwardly maneuvering you through the open grate. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but the pain only grew worse. Your face contorted in pain as he gently set you down on the concrete maintenance path, his arms remaining put. You glanced up just in time to see the grate slide shut on. it's. own.

"What the Fuck?" You whisper, earning a wide smile from Josuke. His face quickly changed when loud voices shouted overhead.

"I thought you said they went this way, dimwit!" Josuke pressed you to his chest protectively, ready to take off with you in his hands if he had too. You could feel how built he was through the chain mail, and realized he had supported your weight along with the armour the entire way he had carried you. The thought alone makes you blush. You needed to put out this crush, he was a stranger you just met.

"They did go this way! I swear!" A scoff and the sound of a slap echoed, you flinched a bit, keeping your eyes closed tight as you prayed for them to leave.

You and Josuke both started to calm down as the footsteps grew farther and farther away. Josuke's stiff posture relaxing, yourself letting out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

It was silent for a while after, you assumed Josuke was waiting a while longer to speak just in case the men returned. You almost missed the warmth of his body as he pulled away to look through the grate. Satisfied with whatever he had seen, he sat down next to you, completely relaxed. Confident in that the men were long gone, (Thanks to Josuke's reaction,) you gathered the strength to speak.

"Where are they?" Your voice cracked. Josuke avoided eye contact with you, leaning his head back on the cold stone behind the two of you. You could clearly see that he was ashamed, and worry started to boil over in your chest.

"I couldn't get to them." He was struggling with the words, and you just knew he was holding something back from you. Keeping some sort of detail to himself.

A rush of mixed emotions flooded through you. Did he just leave them behind? Why?! What did he even mean he "couldn't get to them"? You decide to keep your manners in check as you sit. He was obviously a close friend of Koichi, and out of everyone you knew it was clear to you that Koichi was too honest and respectable to remain close with someone unworthy of trusting. If Koichi trusted him, you decided that you probably should too.

Shifting uncomfortably where he was sitting, Josuke turned towards you and oh so gently moved your arms a bit so he could see the wound on your chest better. Chills ran rampant across your arms, and you hoped he wouldn't notice.

"I managed to drag you out of there with my stand. But when I hesitated to get us out of there they started to shoot." Your brows furrowed in confusion as he scooted closer. You shuddered as he pulled open the ripped part of your white blouse just enough to see the shallow wound. It stretched from the tip of your shoulder to just below your armpit, and damn did it hurt like hell when he exposed it to the open air.

"Stand?" Josuke shook his head, and you were in too much pain to demand an explanation. Josuke's hands remained on the edges of the ripped fabric, and even though you could see them it somehow felt like he was touching the wound.

"An arrow grazed you a little too close while I was standing there like a dunce, I want to apologize for that. I should've registered that we needed to escape before you were hurt." You suck in a ragged gasp as the pressure of the invisible touch increased just lightly, and suddenly the pain stopped. You look in awe as the wound starts to heal itself up completely.

"A knight and a Mage too?" You mused after the initial shock wore off. It wasn't uncommon for "magic" and healers to be heard of, but it was certainly a shock to actually meet one. You honestly had been a little skeptical until now, and it was still hard to believe.

"Something like that." Josuke smiles lightly, sitting back against the wall where he was before. You didn't talk much after that. He asked you if you remembered what the men looked like, and you tried your best to explain the symbols on their cloaks, but you were afraid that you weren't very good at it.

Josuke couldn't quite understand what you were describing, and you both ended up agreeing that you both needed to look for Koichi and Yukako. Josuke as the muscle and you for… information? Moral support?

You didn’t know, but with Yukako's life on the line you weren't going to take no for an answer even if he wanted to find them alone.

Your eyes started to grow heavy, but you didn't want to sleep. You felt too open, to vulnerable to sleep. Josuke was a complete stranger, and yet he had done more for you than anyone else had in ages. He had helped you, saved your life even, but doubt still trickled in through the back door of your mind. How long would it last?

You wouldn't follow down that rabbit hole anymore tonight, sleep taking over your body swiftly as you truly started to process everything that had just happened.

#jjba josuke #josuke x reader #josuke higashitaka #josuke 4 #jjba #jjba x reader #fantasy au #it takes two fic

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

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“The Past Should Stay In The Past...”

(Basically the whole idea behind this is that SoSu was romantically involved with Roger Maxson before the bombs fell and now they are faced with his only living descendant- Arthur Maxson.)

How could you have been so foolish?

Perhaps it was the last breath of hope you had fueling your actions, whatever shred of a dead past you could scramble to sink into. Of course, you knew damn well that your love didn't survive. There was no way that he could've. Against all odds, you knew deep within the pit of your stomach that Roger Maxson- the man you called your dearest, had burned to a heavily irradiated crisp. His acerbic wit couldn't have saved him, nothing could've.

Just like with everything else you knew, he was yet another piece of a world that was violently ripped away within the blink of your eyes.

Or..at least that is what you had thought.

When the truth of his survival reared its atrocious face, the sorrow you felt couldn't have been consoled even by sleep. No tears shed, yet all the hollowness of true melancholy sickeningly twisted your gut. Nothing could quite compare to this final blow. Roger Maxson, the man you adored, the man you had planned to make caramel apples with as a part of your Halloween festivities- not only survived the bombs, but didn't bother to even see if you had made it. Instead he courageously created this..this Brotherhood Of Steel.

Was there a greater pain than knowing you were purposefully abandoned? Sure, there was comfort in the musing of him leaving you within that icy prison for your own safety..but you didn't even know if that was a thought that ever crossed his mind.

So, again, How could you have been so damn foolish?

Joining the faction your former beloved created was a strange decision on your part. At least you were safe. Hell, the routine, the safety, and the ability to trust another person was probably the best thing to happen to you since you entered the wasteland. Alas, following the trend of your horrid life- this too was disrupted.

It was simple enough to board that vertibird with your new commanding officer, even friend, heavens know it wasn't the first time you flew in one. Roger was always able to weasel his way into being able to use military resources for anything but their intended purposes. It was actually quite liberating, being able to fly so high with the promise of meeting whatever unlucky bastard it was that assumed the position of the man that broke you.

That's when it all came crashing down.

The moment you entered the glorious metallic halls of the Prydwen, something told you to turn on your heels and leave it all behind. Something felt wrong deep down, and yet even your own intuition couldn't have prepared you for what met you next. The very second you locked eyes, you felt sick to your stomach.

Ice blue eyes. Those terrible, gorgeous eyes, blazing into you with some terrifying strike to your very soul. Yes, a plethora of people posses blue eyes- some even more beautiful than the pair that stared back at you with unamused confusion. However none could quite compare, for you knew these were the eyes of the man that haunted your dreams at night. Shadows of his loving kisses, passionate trysts, and even the sorrow those remarkable eyes held whenever the man behind them had to bid you fair well and leave you for months on end at your little home all alone.

Those were Roger's eyes. You knew it. You knew it the second he looked at you, you knew it and you hated it.

As though that wasn't enough, the Paladin at your side had confirmed this painful conclusion- proudly announcing that you now "stand in the presence of Elder Maxson, last of the revered Maxson line." That in itself was enough to make the floor lose its solidity, feeling as though instead of being stable- it was now swaying like an untamed sea beneath your feet.

The longer you gazed upon the esteemed boy in front of you, the more it hurt. The more you could spot similarities of Roger in another man, a man that descended from him.

It was all you could do to stomach speaking to him, your throat catching on every sentence as an unbearable throb in your chest began to resurface after months of laying dormant. That night hadn't been any easier- the realization that Roger not only abandoned you, but also had an entire family with another woman carving away at what was left of your fragile sanity. That was supposed to be you..you were his wife, not some other woman. What did you do to deserve this pain? All you could do was stare emptily at the ceiling above you, sleep not even once serving as an option.

Now you truly felt that your life had been shattered.

How were you going to tell your Elder that you couldn't look him in the eyes because he was nothing but a reminder of your greatest heartache?

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 companions #paladin danse #elder maxson #angst #danse #Maxson #Arthur Maxson #Roger Maxson

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toooldforfandom-liveblogs · 3 years

Text

RWBY Liveblog V08E07 - War

Okay! The band aid has been ripped off so let's continue with RWBY! War seems to be a pretty self-explanatory name but who knows, maybe nothing bad will continue to happen? I don't know so let's do this!

I wonder why Atlas went with human soldiers versus using robots. Wouldn't a mass invasion be the perfect place to use all that canon fodder? Although, maybe Ironwood could be scared of getting hacked again.

Plain fields are Rooster Teeth's biggest enemy.

Other than getting distracted by the textured flat ground, I was thinking about how terrifying it'd be to see a whale that size just floating around or crashing close to me.

Very terrifying I'd say, even without the gross Grimm spit.

Okay. All I know about battle formations comes from playing some RTS games in the 90s and Mount & Blade... but, wouldn't using square formations be really bad for ranged units against melee units in a frontal attack?

Uhh, looking a tiny bit intense there buddy.

Can't imagine Manta Squad Omega is anything good if that soldier dared to almost question Ironwood's orders. What is going to be the new addition to Ironwood's list of war crimes?

That's a really late reaction considering THE GIANT GRIMM HORNETS

It shouldn't surprise me they arrested them in the middle of an invasion, but it does. * sigh * priorities

Huh. What could they have against a giant whale?

...somehow this is going to get Pietro inside that whale, isn't it?

Interesting expression here. What Ironwood is describing sounds like a suicide mission so I guess this is acceptance?

They left thousands to die in Mantle and Jaune still thinks they'd care? Although, once they are close to the whale Winter could go "go find Oscar, we'll detonate the bomb" to win back some karma points.

For a second there Salem looked like she was conducting an orchestra and * chef kiss *

watcha doing emerald

…how is her semblance affecting that Grimm? I was already confused by her semblance working against Penny...

A world order that will consist of having no world at all. Revolutionary, really.

Cinder's backstory? Really good. Hazel's? Waaaaaaaay down in the list.

I couldn't care less about Hazel, but Emerald is listening and that is interesting. What is she going to do? Oz hasn't revealed anything she hadn't heard before but she hasn't drunk Salem's kool-aid so anything helps.

oh right, these characters exist

"It's been a couple of episodes, did you forget Nora's deal this volume? No worries, here it is."

This volume has been rather blunt. I mean, RWBY has never been subtle but this volume has been trusting the viewer less than usual. Or maybe it's just that there have been more chances to make it noticeable.

I'm glad they are having this conversation, if only to know what's going to happen with them. Still a lot of episodes left, can't spend them all here.

And there's no way Ruby is not going to see and probably fight hacked Penny at some point. Writers gotta extract all the drama juice they can.

I wondered last season if May's being trans would be more than just a twitter message so, this is great!

May is already taking out and sharpening the guillotine.

I know this is supposed to be serious but she looks so incredibly shocked at the softest possible rebuke ever.

wtf are you doing May

(I know, I know, she doesn't like being compared to "the other side" but still, she seems to be just under Harriet in the "needs an anger management session" list)

…I mean, there are sides. Multiple sides even, trying to kill or capture you, Ruby.

But I guess she's right about the general population of both Atlas and Mantle.

A hint of character development???

It's nice to see Salem's goal finally be explicitly stated by someone. Oz could be guessing but at least it's the same guess that everyone had.

I mean, he's right.

Bold strategy Oscar, let's see if it pays off.

I'd usually say that it could work but EMERALD IS OUTSIDE. She could give the password to Cinder in hopes it could help her. Or stay quiet and escape with Hazel. Or, more interestingly, she could use the lamp herself. Although, I'm not sure what she'd be interested in asking. Hopefully not "Does Cinder care about me?"

Ohh, preparing for next volume. Mercury is probably at the bottom of my list in terms of being an interesting villain, next to Tyrian, so I hope he's joined by someone else.

While they have not been the greatest of friends, Emerald keeps going to Mercury since they were at least partners in being underlings to Cinder. Now she's going to be alone and I wonder why.

Isolating Emerald could work if the writers want her to have more of a reason to escape, but it's not like she wants to oppose Salem, she just wants Cinder [to care about her]

lol, and of course Tyrian would be around to confirm it all

oh no

oh noooo

Are they going to end up fighting each other in a future volume? I kinda hope they don't, or at least wait until they get a good dose of character development. As they are right now it wouldn't be very interesting.

ooooooh, nice one Jaune.

Winter was obviously struggling with the decision so that's the perfect excuse.

Harriet: "lol no."

REEEEEEEEEEEEEN, FINALLY, YOU'RE MAKING SENSE AGAIN

Who could've guessed that freezing his ass off for a couple of hours and getting arrested was what he needed.

Who killed Harriet's pet bunny

Having Harriet nearby is doing an excellent job showing Ren how wrong he was in idolizing how they worked. Thanks Harriet, you're a wonderful bad example.

...is Ren leveling up his semblance? Is that a thing they can do?

Huh.

"the power of friendship... is real 🤯"

I bet this episode was directed by the same dude that directed episode four.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh take that

I also bet someone already made the connection between the colors and the emotions they are supposed to represent. Which is not me, I'll just trust new and improved Ren.

end of the season: qrow and robyn save them

Wow, Heisenberg cameo.

aw, Whitley

One more mind blown this episode.

you baka

lol at Ruby in the background going "just like her sister"

awwwww

I'm glad there was this moment of brightness before everyone goes to die fight.

OH C'MON

This is so dumb.

I thought the writers would at least make an effort to have them fight somewhere else instead of having Penny somehow crash right in front of Ruby.

Oh Penny, I'm sorry too. You're just a vehicle for cheap drama. Made to suffer and rebuilt last season just to do it again.

---

So, besides those awful 30 seconds, that I'm going to totally ignore for as long as possible, I liked this episode. Lots of things happened.

Hazel, Emerald and Mercury now know the truth. Hazel and Emerald have the password for the lamp (maybe they'll hide who is going to call Jinn and just have it not respond when Salem tries to use it). May got an in-universe reveal that she's trans, which is great. Whitley gained a soul. Ren recovered his along with leveling up his semblance. And they made it explicit that both Marrow and Winter are not big fans of what it's going on (which feels... unnecessary)

It feels like the end of season is brewing but there are still a ton of episodes left so I'm very curious about what's going to happen. Until next time!

EDIT: Also, this episode was indeed directed by the same guy as the one who directed episode four! A lot more restrained this time so at least it wasn’t immediately obvious.

#rwby #rwby liveblog #rwby v8 #rwby v8e07

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