#the way he abandons his tea in the ninth one like 'tea is not as important as bantering at lucy's side'
Text
First Date
First Doctor
You don't know it was supposed to be a date because he acted as if it was a typical day. He took you to a planet, and while Ben and Polly chatted behind you, you went off exploring with the Doctor. Only when you returned to the Tardis did you realize it was supposed to be a date. Polly had figured it out, and you spent most of the night talking about it.
Second Doctor
You were helping him keep up appearances. Ramón would be back soon; you began to fear, and you wanted to get to know the man who had taken his place before he had to flee for his life.
You got some food from the kitchen and surprised him. You spent hours getting to know each other, and he told you stories of his adventures. You even convinced him to play the flute, and he played, your head on his lap. It was at that moment you realized you had fallen in love with him.
Third Doctor
He took you to see a constellation, and you sat for hours, admiring the stars while you talked about how you felt, how he felt now he could travel again, and what you believed The Master would do next, laughing at some of the schemes you had come up with.
Fourth Doctor
He took you to the Middle Ages, where you were almost married to a King until he intervened, and you ran back to the Tardis, trying out to keep a comfortable distance between you and the warriors.
"Are our dates always going to be like this?"
He only laughed, opening the Tardis, and you rushed inside, locking the door while he ran to the console to put the Tardis in flight. He took you to see a planet, finding a market where you bought small items to remember your trip by, not that you could forget this.
Fifth Doctor
He took you to a planet known for its hospitality, and you enjoyed a romantic dinner on a hill.
"So," you smiled at him, "are you glad I came back?"
He knew his future self would remember all this and would no doubt seek her out in the future. It would be the reason they found each other. And he had to admit, he didn't want you to go, but the longer you were in his timeline, the messier it would get in the future. He knew from experience.
"I wish you could stay, " he touched your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone. "but you'll have to go back eventually."
You nodded with a frown.
He leaned in to kiss you, mentally saying, 'sod it,' and you smiled against his lips. From that moment on, he wasn't so reserved about intimacy. He helped fix your vortex manipulator but still made every second he had left with you count.
Sixth Doctor
You walked hand in hand with him as you stepped onto the yellow-colored grass, looking around at the river that went on for miles. "Shouldn't we wait for Peri?"
"She'll catch up." He lied.
You nodded, smiling as you continued to walk. You rested your head on his shoulder as he brought up a memory of a date you had shared in his last incarnation. You were surprised that he remembered and realized where he was taking you.
"Peri isn't coming with us, is she?"
"No."
You grinned, pulling him along, and he chuckled as he followed you to the boat that would take you along the river, giving you the best view of the city.
You talked about the last time you came here and realized he had brought you back for the anniversary of your date with the Fifth Doctor.
Seventh Doctor
You went to a planet that was filled with different 'animals' from different worlds. A few escaped, and you spent your date, saving other visitors from the terrifying beasts.
"And it's face opens up in four points and all you could see were these large teeth coming towards you." You told Ace later in the Tardis, "and he, right, runs towards it holding the screwdriver, and the thing is like ten feet tall and hit him to the side in one swipe."
She laughed, looking at The Doctor, who was sipping the tea you made him. He was scowling, but when you walked over to kiss his head, he placed a hand over yours that you had put on his shoulder, smiling up at you.
Eighth Doctor
He took you to various planets and different points in time. This Doctor is a huge romantic and made your first date last two days.
War Doctor
He took you to watch a star being born and you admired him as he explained how it happened. He let you name it as you sat with your legs out of the Tardis, your head on his shoulder. It gave you hope that one day you could find a way to save Gallifrey. To give your home a new start.
Ninth Doctor
He got you to choose a point in time, and when you went there, havoc unfolded.
"That's not supposed to happen." You said.
"Hey, that's my line." You shared a grin with him, and he held a hand out. You took it and ran to the source of the commotion.
Tenth Doctor
Donna told him about a restaurant you always wanted to visit, and she visited her family while you enjoyed your date with The Doctor.
Eleventh Doctor
It was cliche, but you loved your date to the carnival. Although giving the already hyperactive Doctor candy was not the best idea in hindsight.
Twelfth Doctor
He took you to a planet, and your date got off to a great start until he insulted the inhabitants, and you had to leave earlier than planned.
Thirteenth Doctor
A romantic date on the Tardis.
Delgado!Master
He took you to a star which he forced to explode, and you sipped wine while watching the supernova.
Ainley!Master
He took you to a planet known for its riches, and you were admiring necklaces when alarms went off. You made it back to the Tardis and found he had stolen you a jewel.
Roberts!Master
You spent your time cooking as it eased your nerves, and he came over, finding you had enough food to feed an army. You sat at the table as you ate dinner, and when you fed him a chocolate strawberry you had made, he stared into your eyes, sending pleasant shivers down your spine, and when he returned the favor, some chocolate dripped down your chin and he caught it with his thumb. You blushed, leaning in when he cupped your cheek, lips meeting halfway.
Jacobi!Master
It wasn't supposed to be a date at the time, but years later you looked back at it fondly. And he often referred to that night as your 'first date'. Although it didn't seem very romantic to some people, but at that time it was perfect. You had brought dinner for you both to eat while you worked, and the dim lighting in the lab added to the moment. Just you two, working as you chatted about Utopia, planning a future somewhere better.
Simms!Master
You brought cooked lunches for you both every day. So when he invited you over to 'work on the next phase' of his plan, you weren't suspicious, although unsure of why he told you not to bring anything with you. He surprised you with a candlelit dinner.
Missy
She stole The Doctor's Tardis, abandoning him and Clara on a hostile planet to take you to the first place you ever traveled with her before returning hours later to save The Doctor at your request.
Dhawan!Master
You were traveling with The Doctor when he found you. He convinced you to go with him that the chaos would still be there when he brought you back from your date. And you couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes.
Jamie McCrimmon
The Doctor dropped you off on an inhabited planet, and you spent a few days exploring together and getting to know each other more.
Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart
You were still adjusting living in his time, and what women were supposed to behave like. He knew it was difficult for you to be so outspoken, and the way you did your hair or your makeup was judged a lot. But he always stood up for you when he heard about it.
You had went shopping and bought yourself a beautiful dress, returning home to find he had come back early from work and cooked a romantic dinner for you both.
And he told you that he wouldn't change anything about you.
Mike Yates
You were teenagers at the time, and he took you out dancing.
Alydon
He found a quiet place away from the farmers who had returned to warriors and he wanted an evening that didn't include war strategy. You enjoyed a lovely picnic, and he asked as many questions as he could, wanting to know more about you as you were a quiet person and since your father lived apart from other Thralls for years no one knew anything about you.
Rory Williams
He took you to a quiet coffee shop and you tried various coffee flavours for the first time. You were settling into his time period although every now and then a car horn would make you flinch.
Ian Chesterton
Your first date happened back on Earth when you returned home together, months after you had started dating. Ian didn't consider Tardis rations a good first date so he cooked dinner for you once you had settled back into your lives. You enjoyed the candlelit dinner, knowing there would be many more to come.
#first doctor x reader#second doctor x reader#third doctor x reader#fourth doctor x reader#fifth doctor x reader#sixth doctor x reader#seventh doctor x reader#eighth doctor x reader#war doctor x reader#ninth doctor x reader#tenth doctor x reader#eleventh doctor x reader#twelfth doctor x reader#thirteenth doctor x reader#delgado!master x reader#ainley!master x reader#roberts!master x reader#jacobi!master x reader#simm!master x reader#missy x reader#dhawan!master x reader#jamie mccrimmon x reader#alistair gordon lethbridge stewart x reader#mike yates x reader#alydon x reader#rory williams x reader#ian chesterton x reader#doctor who#doctor who preferences
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
[[ CC Character Profile ]]
Fandom:
Doctor Who
Full name:
Rose Tyler
Nickname(s):
•The Bad Wolf
Sex/Pronouns:
Female
Birthdate:
April 27, 1987
Age
19-20s years old
Powers:
None
Skills:
Rose was able to use firearms to effect. She was a skilled gymnast; Rose told the Ninth Doctor she had "got the bronze" during her school years.
[[ About ]]
Personality:
•Resourceful
•Brave
•Sweet
•Kind-hearted
•Intelligent
•Observant
•Romantic
•Jealous
•Selfish
Likes:
•Tea
•Pretty Things
•Traveling
•The Doctor
•Helping People
•Space
•Flitting With The Doctor
•Chips
Dislikes:
•Losing The Doctor
•People Dying
•Daleks
•The Doctor Enemies
•Other Girls being flirty with The Doctor
Background:
Occupation:
Shop assistant, Dinner lady
Fears:
•The Doctor dying
Sexual Orientation:
Straight
Species:
Human
Faceclaim:
•Billie Piper
•Young child (Julia Joyce)
[[ Relations ]]
Father: Peter Tyler {Dead}
Mother: Jackie Tyler
Adoptive Father: Peter Tyler
Little Brother: Tony Tyler
Husband: John Smith (Clone of Tenth Doctor)
Significant Other(s):
Ex:Mickey Smith & Meta Crisis
Husband: John Smith (Clone of Tenth Doctor)
(Opened to only ten doctors)
[[ Biography ]]
Rose is introduced in the eponymous premiere episode of the 2005 series. There, she is saved from an Auton attack by the mysterious alien Time Lord known as the Doctor (Christopher Eccleston), and assists him in preventing an invasion of Earth.[1] Subsequently, the Doctor invites Rose to be his travelling companion, taking her to the end of the world and giving her a "superphone" so she can remain in contact with her mother Jackie (Camille Coduri), and boyfriend Mickey (Noel Clarke).
In their travels through time and space, Rose learns the importance of not tampering with history, when she attempts to save the life of her father Pete Tyler (Shaun Dingwall), who had died when she was a baby. Throughout these journeys, she and the Doctor are haunted by two mysterious recurring words: 'Bad Wolf'. Rose, the Doctor, and new companion Captain Jack (John Barrowman) come to understand the meaning of this phrase when they encounter an unstoppable army of evil alien Daleks on the space station Satellite 5. To return to the Doctor after he sends her home to Earth in series finale "The Parting of the Ways", Rose tears open the console of the Doctor's time machine, the TARDIS, and becomes suffused with the power of the time vortex. Returning, she uses her power over the infinity of time and space to spread the words "Bad Wolf" over its entirety, then saving the universe from the Dalek invasion. Rose resurrects Jack, who died from Dalek fire, and destroys the Dalek fleet before the Doctor drains the energy out of her—by kissing her—to save her life from its harmful effects. Rose is horrified as the Doctor appears to die and regenerates into a new man (David Tennant), who proceeds to take the TARDIS and a terrified Rose to Earth, abandoning Jack on Satellite 5. The new Doctor and Rose arrive on Earth on Christmas Day, where he passes out from the strain of regeneration in the midst of a Sycorax invasion in the 2005 Christmas special "The Christmas Invasion". Having woken up and saved Earth, the Doctor enjoys Christmas dinner with Rose before the two once again depart to parts unknown.
Over the second series (2006), Rose and the Doctor grow increasingly close to one another. After defeating a werewolf, they are knighted by Queen Victoria (Pauline Collins), who banishes them as threats to the Empire whilst setting up the Torchwood Institute, which aims to track the Doctor and other aliens. Their relationship proves a source of tension once Mickey joins the pair in their travels, at the suggestion of the Doctor's former companion Sarah Jane Smith (Elisabeth Sladen). Whilst stranded in a parallel universe, Rose meets a rich, entrepreneur version of her father who never died. Mickey decides to stay behind on this world to battle the Cybermen—emotionless cyborgs which seek to convert humans to their ranks—as he no longer wants to feel like a spare part. Alone with the Doctor again, Rose faces the mythical Beast (Gabriel Woolf), who prophesies that Rose will soon die in battle.
This day comes when, in the present day, the Torchwood Institute's director Yvonne Hartman (Tracy-Ann Oberman) accidentally allows the Cybermen army and Dalek Cult of Skaro into Rose's reality, where they begin a war. In sealing the Cybermen and Daleks back into the "void" through which they came, Rose is transported to the parallel universe by Pete, to save her from also being pulled into the void. Rose becomes trapped in the parallel universe with Jackie and the alternate universe Pete as the walls between universes seal; she is later declared dead in her own universe. Months later, the Doctor is able to transmit Rose a goodbye message. She reveals she now works for that universe's Torchwood, and confesses her love for him. Before he can reply, their connection is lost
When the Doctor is reunited with Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) in the show's fourth series (2008), Rose mysteriously begins to appear in the Doctor's life—first seen only by Donna, and later in silent video messages which the Doctor fails to notice. When a "Time Beetle" creates an alternate universe in which Donna never meets the Doctor and the Doctor dies, Rose travels from her parallel world to this world, working alongside the organisation UNIT to send Donna back in time, and make Donna's younger self turn left at a junction and not right. Rose tells Donna to say two words to The Doctor; 'Bad Wolf'.
The Doctor concludes this is a sign that the Universe, and reality itself is under threat. Later, in the midst of Davros' (Julian Bleach) plot to obliterate existence, Rose unites with the Doctor and his companions Donna, Martha, Jack and Sarah Jane to make a stand against him and his army of Daleks. In the midst of the battle, a part-human Doctor is created and destroys the Daleks. The Doctor returns Rose to the parallel universe along with Jackie, and his part-human counterpart. Rose challenges the Doctor to say the words he did not say to her during their previous farewell. The Doctor does not answer, but his part-human counterpart whispers in her ear and Rose kisses him. The Doctor retreats, leaving Rose behind with his part-human counterpart.[19] In the closing scenes of The End of Time (2010), just prior to his regeneration, the Doctor travels to Rose's housing estate in the first minutes of 2005. He speaks to her from the shadows, asking her what year it is. She tells him it is January 1, 2005.
The Doctor promises her that she will have a really great year. Piper returned for the show's 50th anniversary episode "The Day of the Doctor" (2013) as the interface of a sentient weapon of mass destruction known as "the Moment". The War Doctor (John Hurt) intends to end the raging Time War by using the Moment to destroy both the Daleks and the Time Lords. Using Rose's image, chosen for her future significance to the Doctor, the Moment attempts to persuade him to seek an alternative course of action by showing him how the decision will affect his future.Back with real Rose Tyler, she had married the part-human counterpart of The 10th Doctor, he used the name John Smith. The continue their days together and working with Touchwood
#doctor who#love love love#tenth doctor#fangirl#obsessed#canon character#rose tyler#ten x rose#rose icons#roleplay#canon#canon roleplay#ten and rose#they are married#rose x tentoo#billie piper#love her#she is amazing#otp forever
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
For Me
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: Spencer and Y/N meet for coffee after that night...
Warning: Angst
Words: 1,441
A/N: I’m depressed... hence the angst. I’m sorry
PART ONE HERE PART THREE HERE
Master List Permanent Tag List
You threw the teabag in the bin before turning back to stir in the milk. You turned your nose up at the milky brew, dropping the teaspoon in the sink before picking the cup up. As you walked back into the front room, Natasha sat up eagerly from her spot on the couch, buried beneath a thick blanket.
“Thank you, servant” Natasha said, taking the cup from you and cradling it in her hands.
“Say that again and I’ll beat your ass” you warned, wagging a finger at her. You sat beside her on the couch, pulling the blanket over your legs as you leant back into the cushions.
“What time are you meeting him?” she asked quietly, taking a sip of the drink. “mm, you make the best tea.”
“You like to much milk in it” you scrunched your nose up before sighing at her question. “We’re meeting at four.”
It had been two weeks since you had left the flat, left Spencer. By the time he had gotten up in the morning, the spare bed was made, and you were gone. Leaving him was one of the hardest things you had ever had to do, you loved him more than anything, but it was something which had to be done.
For the first week and a half, you had refused to take his phone calls or speak to him when he came to Natasha’s flat. He needed to have the space and time away from you to fully consider what he wanted, whether he wanted to open the line of communication in your relationship or not. This was an important decision which wasn’t to be made lightly, this could make or break your relationship.
Eleven days after you had walked out, you had answered his call. Upon hearing your voice, he had let out a huge breath of air and what sounded like a sniffle. The sounds clawed at your chest and the guilt licked at your soul. You hated for Spencer to feel like this, you hated to feel like this, but this was something you had to do – like it or not.
You had agreed to meet Spencer at a café a few blocks away from Natasha’s. This was a conversation you had to have in person, and the café was often sparsely occupied with the far back booth empty of neighbours. It was in a neutral setting but still private enough for your conversation.
You had meant to meet him yesterday, but he had called you in the morning, telling you his plane home was running late and wouldn’t be able to make it. Honestly, you had marvelled at the notification and were even more shocked when you received a text from him this morning confirming that you were meeting today.
It was something so small, so minuscule, but it had made you turn to Natasha and say ‘Why couldn’t he just be like this? This is all I wanted.’ You had promptly burst into tears, thinking of the times that Spencer could have just communicated his hold-ups with you but had instead left you abandoned.
Like that time, you had waited at a restaurant for nearly an hour, but he had never turned up. Or the museum tour where he had texted you ten minutes after the start time to say he was across the country on a case. On the family dinner where you were meant to introduce him to your family, and they thought you had been making him up because he was your first ‘serious’ boyfriend.
That had been embarrassing.
“Do you want me to come with you? I can don a hoodie and sunglasses and sit in the corner” Natasha offered, tucking her feet under your curled-up legs to offer both comfort and to gain your warmth.
You snorted softly, shaking your head. “That would be so obvious, Tash, he’s an FBI agent. He’d notice you straight away.”
“I can blend in!” she defended, mock offence in her tone.
“You can blend in as well as your foundation to your neck in ninth grade” you sass, pressing down on her toes teasingly.
“We don’t speak about that time!” she growled, switching the cup into one hand to hit at you as you laughed.
This was why you were so close with Tash, why she had been your friend for so many years. She helped to turn a serious moment into something more light-hearted, make it something you weren’t so worried about anymore. Through thick and thin, high and lows, she had been the best-friend, the sister, that you needed.
After your laughter has calmed down, she gave you a soft smile and rested her hand on your knee, “No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. It may take some time, but you’ll be okay.”
And that was just what you needed to hear.
When you walked into the café, your eyes went straight to the back-right corner. Spencer sat up straighter in his seat as his eyes met yours. His tongue poked out, wetting his bottom lip as he nervously watched you walk towards him.
“Hey, thanks for coming. I got your favourite” he pushed the cup towards you with the tips of his fingers.
“Thanks” you gave a soft smile.
Looking at Spencer, you’re not sure whether he looks good or not. He looks more tired, the bags under his eyes a little more pronounced and his hair a curly mess. Was this because of the case, or because of you? Either way, it made you feel guilty. He did, however, seem healthier in other aspects. His skin wasn’t as pale and his lips not as chapped.
You blew the steaming drink gently before taking a sip, nodding your approval. “It’s good.”
“I’ve missed you” Spencer says gently, his eyes tracing every aspect of your face.
“Spence” you sigh, leaning back in your chair.
“I know…I know…” he nods. “Its my fault that we’re here, and I know that, and I take responsibility for it. I wish it hadn’t have gotten to this, Y/N, really. You mean the world to me, you’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful, smartest, kindest, most selfless person in the world. I love you; I know I’m not good at showing it but I do. I just… I want you to come home, Y/N, please. Please come home. I’ll try and change, I really will try. Just… come home.”
Your heart broke at his pleas. His elbows are on the table as he leans forwards, his hands grasping yours and his eyes swim with tears. Here he was, the man that you loved, begging you to go back to him. His words were kind and heart-warming, but they weren’t the ones you wanted to hear.
“Try? That’s not good enough, you’ve said that you’d try before” You shook your head, pulling your hand from his. “I-I don’t deserve this Spencer. I love you, I really do, but I shouldn’t be a second thought like that.”
“Y/N, no, you’re not a second thought” he began, his eyes widening in horror as he began to shake his head.
“Are you sure, Spencer?” You couldn’t help but ask the rhetorical question. “I need to look out for me, I need to consider my own worth. I deserve better, I deserve to be remembered and not left at a restaurant, forgotten about. Do you know how much I worry when you don’t turn up at the time you say you would?”
Spencer doesn’t respond and watches you sadly as you wipe a tear from your eye.
“I used to worry a lot but now, I don’t. It’s like the boy who cried wolf” you shook your head with a snort. “What worries me now is that one day, you’ll be in trouble and that’s the reason you don’t turn up, but instead of going for help because you’re missing, I’ll just shrug and think nothing of it. How sick is that, for me to have a worry like that? So, while you’re thinking about what you want, think about also what’s best. What’s best for you and what’s best for me?”
Spencer doesn’t respond and you push to your feet. It’s the second time in two weeks that he watches you leave, his throat closed up with emotions and his heart in shreds. You were right, you did deserve more. More than what he could offer you at the moment. You should have to think that way.
So as you walked away, Spencer accepted that this may be for the best because you deserved so much more than him.
Permanent tag list: @sskhair @sammypotato67 @spencerreids-wife @yoongi-holland @bucky-babygirl @youareperrrfectls @alexxcorona113 @tired-draculina @rachelxwayne @itsmoony @shigarakis-fifth-hand @andreasworlsboring101 @fantasticalfuchsbau @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @ourmrswonderlandlove @loverboyreid @kburgenstein @pinkdiamond1016
Those that asked for a Part 2: @itshatertatertotblog @skullwithemotions @aperrywilliams @lovebodymindstuff
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer x reader#spencer x you#spencer x y/n#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#Criminal Minds#criminal minds fanfic#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#part 2
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
The One Where The Doctor Meets You (Ninth Doctor x Reader)
Summary: After saving London from the Autons, the Doctor is surprised when the TARDIS takes control and brings him to meet an old/new friend.
Warnings: None, I think. Unless you don’t like butterflies or butterfly-like creatures.
Notes: it’s the disappearing for months and then coming back with a part two that’s been finished in google docs for weeks, for me. (seriously though, sorry i disappeared for so long. i will post more often, i swear)
Word Count: 2.3k
The One Where You Meet The Doctor
Masterlist
The Doctor closed the doors to the TARDIS, watching with a sad smile as Rose stood on the other side. He’d liked her; despite everything he’s been through, he liked having a friend with him on his adventures again. But Rose had a life, and she’d chosen to stay. That’s fine, she’ll be safer that way. Live a short but happy life with Mickey and her mom. And he’ll continue getting himself into trouble, and doing his best to help people.
The Doctor moved towards the TARDIS console, and began piloting her to a new place. “Where should we go next? 18th century? 39th? How about the 52nd, we haven’t been there in a while…” As he began to pilot the ship, pulling at the controls he knows so well, the TARDIS seemed to disagree. She whirred in disapproval, then seemed to take the wheel herself, despite the Doctor’s movements. “Where are you taking me now?” The Doctor was confused, as he’d never seen the TARDIS act this way, but hey, she usually knows what’s best. So he followed her lead, and flew the TARDIS to where she’d wanted him to go. Eventually, the TARDIS’ wheezing stopped and they landed in the early 21st century, still on Earth. Curious and excited, the Doctor ran to the TARDIS doors and opened them, only to find himself standing on a seemingly normal street in the suburbs. He guessed it was the late 2020s, give or take a few years. Before he could get a better guess of where the TARDIS had taken him, a voice calling his name distracted him.
“Doctor? What’re you doing out here?” He turned to see a girl he’d never met before. She clearly knew him, as she pulled him into a hug, despite his arms being crossed over his body. “Must be early days for you, because I clearly remember telling you that you should park her in my living room.” The girl said as she pulled away from the hug. She ignored the confused look on his face and instead made her way into his TARDIS.
“What do you mean early days?” He asked. That’s probably not the first question he should’ve asked, but it was the one that intrigued him the most. He entered the TARDIS after her, closing the doors, and watched as she easily began flying her. “And who do you think you are to fly my TARDIS? How do you even know how to do that?” As he finished speaking, the TARDIS landed with an impressive lack of violent shaking.
The girl lightly laughed in response, before making her way out of the TARDIS into what the Doctor could only assume to be her living room. “Doctor c’mon, you know I can’t tell you how I know how to fly her. Spoilers, remember?” She paused for a moment once she was outside, waiting for the Doctor to follow her out. Once he did, reluctantly, She made her way into her kitchen, and she started grabbing things from various cupboards. “By the way, where’s Rose? I’ve never seen you with this face without her.”
“Rose? What - Who are you?” The girl finally stopped her actions, from the look of it, she was going to make a pot of tea, and looked up at the Doctor with wide eyes.
“Are you serious?” She said, just above a whisper. When the Doctor didn’t answer, she took a deep breath and looked away, collecting herself. The Doctor could’ve sworn she mumbled something under her breath as she did so, but when she looked up, a smile had been slapped onto her face. “Uh- sorry. I kinda forgot this would happen eventually. I’m Y/N. We’re, uh, friends. Or we will be one day.” At this point, she’d abandoned the tea all together, and made her way back over to the Doctor. She held a hand out for him to shake. “You see, we’re always meeting in the wrong order. That’s why I know you and you don’t know me.” The Doctor held out his hand as well, allowing her to shake it. He didn’t know what to think; on one hand, it’s amazing, but on the other, he thinks he should run for the hills. Knowing your own future is a dangerous game to play, and he doesn’t want anything to do with it.
“I should probably go then. I wouldn’t want to mess up the future.” He said, turning around and heading back into the TARDIS.
“What? No!” Y/N followed him in, closing the door behind her. “You’re not messing with the future by being with me!” She argued.
“Of course I am! You’ll end up telling me something about my future, and then it’ll be solidified. Unavoidable. A Fix-”
“I know how the future works, Doc. You’ve explained it to me hundreds of times.”
“See! Now I’ll have to explain it to you over and over, because you just told me that I did.”
“No, you explain it to me over and over because you like being the smartest person in the room.” The Doctor scoffed at her comment. Whoever this girl is to him, she’s not making the best first impression. “Scoff all you want, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re mad at me right now, because for the first time in forever you’re in a room with someone who knows more than you.” She leaned against the console towards him, a smirk on her face. The Doctor would never admit it, but she’s not entirely wrong.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” This only made Y/N laugh. He almost started laughing along with her when the TARDIS suddenly began moving. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Well it’s not like she’s flying herself! You must’ve done something!”
“I flew her perfectly! If anyone did something to cause this, it’s the idiot that stole her but never bothered to read-” The TARDIS suddenly and violently landed, causing Y/N to lose her grip and land on the ground. They both stayed silent for a moment, before Y/N quietly spoke, “Do you have any idea where we are?”
“Nope.”
They looked at eachother, and almost simultaneously, smiles grew on their faces. The pair walked over to the door. The Doctor opened it, peaked his head out, and once he deemed it safe, opened the door wider so that Y/N could walk past.
“Where the hell are we?” You asked, taking in the view. You’d landed on an alien planet, that much was obvious- the multi-colored grass and two moons rising in the distance made it so even an idiot could figure that out- but neither you nor The Doctor had been to a planet like it before.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” The Doctor answered you with a grin slapped on his face. Even though he didn’t know this girl, and all logic said he should stay the hell away, something about her felt right. Especially when you returned his grin with just as much enthusiasm.
“Fantastic. I love a good mystery.” And with that, you picked a direction and began walking, leaving The Doctor, dumbfounded, to follow you. “Come along, Doc, we don’t have all day!” The Doctor only scoffed, but followed the mystery girl anyways.
“So what did you mean by us meeting in the wrong order?” The Doctor questioned, trying to figure you out. “Why don’t I just visit you linearly? After all, I’ve got a time machine.”
“Oh, you tried. The TARDIS won’t let you. Whenever you visit me, she won’t let you land where you want. She never seems to have a problem getting me home to the right time though.” You explained, marching through the tall rainbow grass. “Except for once, we accidentally landed at; well, spoilers. But it all works out in the end, always does. She probably brought us here for a reason too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Sure, sometimes the TARDIS influences my travels a little bit-” You interrupted him with a scoff, which The Doctor happily ignored- “But she doesn’t just fly herself. Not without help from me. Something else must have brought us here.”
“Oh, so you think a random, seemingly uninhabited planet was able to hijack the TARDIS?” The Doctor would never admit it, but you did have a point. They’d been walking for a while, and so far there were no signs of any civilization. Certainly nothing with the kind of technology to hijack a TARDIS.
“No, I think you don’t know how to fly her properly and you did something to make her bring us here.” He lied. He’d watched her flying, and even he had to accept that she knew what she was doing. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Oh, please-” You cut yourself off, distracted by something happening behind The Doctor. When he turned around, his breath was taken away by the sight. As they had been talking, the sun had begun to set and the moons of the unknown planet began to rise higher. Around them, a flurry of insects had begun flying around. They looked like butterflies, only bigger. Their wings had a faint glow to them, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Y/N moved next to him, taking in the sight for herself. Soon enough, The Doctor found himself looking at her rather than the insects. One of them landed on her arm, and she turned to look at The Doctor with a wide grin. Just as The Doctor returned it, however, your grin morphed into a look of pain.
“Jesus Christ!” You swatted the bug off of your arm, where it had left a quickly swelling bite.
“Back to the TARDIS!” The Doctor yelled, grabbing your hand and dragging you back. Now that you’d brought attention to yourselves, the insect swarm seemed to be flying after you.
“What are the odds of these things being poisonous?” You asked as you ran, the TARDIS coming closer and closer.
“I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be worried about them being poisonous.” He answered.
“Why not?”
“Cause you didn’t eat one. You should be worried about them being venomous.” He corrected, despite the dire situation.
“Doc!”
~~~
Turns out, those insects, which The Doctor had identified as Derruliflies from the planet Taurillia once you two had made it back to the TARDIS, weren’t any more dangerous than a mosquito. Besides the initially painful bite and the inflammation, you’d be fine. That didn’t stop you from complaining though.
“I can’t believe the TARDIS brought us to that dreadful planet!” You’d been complaining for a half hour now, as The Doctor tried to bring the swelling on your arm down. Despite the fact that the venom wouldn’t harm you much, Your arm ended up extremely swollen, and The Doctor couldn’t very well drop you off on earth without knowing how long the swelling would take to go away or if there would be any other side effects. So now he was doing his best to remove the venom, despite your complaints. “I mean seriously! What was she thinking? You know, I bet she knew those creatures would bite me. I think this is payback for when I was learning how to fly her.”
“What’d you do when you were learning how to fly her?” The Doctor asked, still focused on your now slightly less swollen arm.
“Let’s just say it took me a minute to figure it out.” You said, with a slight grimace. “My teacher was very patient with me, though, so I got there in the end.”
“You’re welcome in advance, then.” The Doctor assumed he’d been the one to teach her in the future, after all, no one else knows how to fly a TARDIS anymore, but your laughter proved that was not the case.
“Please! Riv-um, my teacher had to kick you out because you kept trying to be a backseat driver. You were worse than my dad when he was teaching me to drive a car.” You joked. “And you and I both know you’re hardly qualified to teach someone how to fly a TARDIS, considering you can barely fly her yourself.”
“That’s not true! I’m an excellent driver!”
“You didn’t even pass your exams!” The Doctor only rolled his eyes in response, causing you to laugh even more.
“Whatever. Your arm is all fixed, by the way. You’re welcome.” He said, dropping your arm from his hands. He’d managed to remove the venom, which had caused the swelling and itching to go away rather rapidly. “You may have some residual itching for a few hours, but you’ll be back to normal in a jiff.”
“Thank you.” You said, genuinely, causing The Doctor to meet your eyes. “Really, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Course I did. I’m a Doctor, and you’re my friend.” He paused, “Or, you will be, I guess.”
“C’mon Doc, you and I both know I’m already your friend.”
~~~
When The Doctor brought you home- you were right, the TARDIS was more than happy to drop you off in the right time- he didn’t really want to say goodbye. He wanted to get to know you more, take you with him.
“You sure you wanna go?” He asked, just before you could open the doors back to your life. Your eyebrows shot up, surprised he had asked. Surely he’d asked you to join him before, right? “I mean, I can drop you off here anytime. Why not stay a while?” You gave him a soft smile, before coming over and doing something unexpected; you kissed his cheek.
“Time machine.”
“What?”
You were backing up towards the doors, still with that knowing smile on your face. “Rose. You forgot to tell her that it’s a time machine.” And with that, you turned around, walking out of The TARDIS. Even though he knew he’d see you many more times in the future, The Doctor was still sad to see you go.
~~~
#the doctor x reader#the doctor x you#the doctor x y/n#doctor who#ninth doctor x reader#ninth doctor#doctor who fic#doctor who series#the tardis
65 notes
·
View notes
Note
galaxies: what are three things you want to do before you die?Twisted Family and Pirate Au? Please?
(All right small side note for those who come across this, twisted Family au is an au set on where black hat and flug were in a relationship but Black Hat kept treating Flug like trash and so one day Flug tries to leave, Hat can't handle that Flug would try to leave him, he snaps like mentality wise.
Turns Flug into a life size marionette.
(usually dressed but this was for me to figure out a basic design for him)
He takes in abandoned children or sometimes adults and turns them into puppets, saying they're one happy family now.)
Black Hat pulled at the lace gloves embroidered with finely stitched top hats, placing them beside his tea cup, after all he did not want to ruin them with the wood varnish he was about to use.
Acylius’s head was tilted to the side, cheek on his shoulder.
“Amadeus…please…may I have some freedom to move? It would make it easier to apply the varnish would it not?”
Black hat paused, considering his words, nodding he gave him enough free movement to lift his head at the very least.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh darling, please call me Amadeus or Amy, I miss the fondness in your voice sometimes.”
The eldericht was sweet in his tone, to anyone just passing by you would think it was natural…but upon closer inspection you could see those hints, feel that unhinged ring in his voice.
Black Hat stroked his marionettes face, finger tips caressing over smooth wood, smiling as his doctor leaned into his touch.
“Did you get my favourite varnish Amy?”
Amadeus’s ears perked under his hat, which now donned a long pink mourning ribbon with a bow at the back, watching as Acylius shifted his jaw into a smile, wood tapping as the joints of the doctors ears shifted.
“Of course sweetheart, only the best for you!”
Black Hat replied affectionately as he dipped the cloth into the varnish only to be interrupted but Acylius clearing his throat
“Amadeus , do not forget our guest asked a question.”
“Ah yes, our new addition, well now let’s see…”
Black Hat began while applying smooth strokes over his lover’s cheeks.
“I would love to marry Acylius, but according to him we haven’t quite reached that point just yet…maybe have a few more children, I am trying to decide if we should go natural or wood shop it and well when one are two are true that will be enough for me.”
The demon was so happy and Acylius was practically purring as his wooden body was getting treated to an expensive…you had to wonder was it akin to a sponge bath with how Black Hat tended to him.
“Little one I will have to apply this to you next, after all you are new to our family and I should make sure you are properly treated.”
Amadeus chirped.
You only stay silent, you cannot move, unable to speak now, eyes unblinking, frozen in place, body conforming , changing to be another of the many child like puppets you see and realise are all watching you…were they ever children to begin with…were they once a child…faces become familiar heroes and villains that also once were can be seen there…and for one moment you can see past the illusion that made this place look so beautiful, so perfect…
The reality is , the manor is derelict , dusty, broken and strung with cobwebs, Hat’s dress is tattered and the doctor…god…the marionette is full of holes as insects scuttle across his face and into an empty wooden eye socket, perhaps once he’d been alive and if he was still…
“Time to sleep, baby doll.”
Hat whispers and once again you see the lie, lush rich and beautiful colours, full of such life…perhaps what you saw was a nightmare crafted by Black Hat to torment you…
Or was it?
Pirate Au answer
Acylius folded his arms on the edge of the tank, tail splashing lightly , water lapping gently as he moved.
Black Hat was at his desk going through pages of a book his merman had told him of, however he keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you are up to no business he might disapprove of.
“So you want to know what three things I want to do before I die huh?”
Acylius smiled resting his cheek on his arm, glancing over at the Pirate king, ear fins flicking, oh he was so clearly in love it was bloody adorable, even if he didn’t say it out loud you could see it for yourself.
“Well one is to be free of White Hat…Amadeus I believe is working on that though so I suppose I am half way there on that one.”
Black turned a page without looking up
“Damn right, no self righteous brother of mine will get to lay a hand on Flug.”
You watch in awe as the merman’s scales turn from the iridescent likeness of a peacocks to hues of pink and yellow with glowing sky blue fins
You can't help but smile, awww he's blushing.
"Let's see, what else, ah yes another thing would be to spend more than one day on land every twenty ninth of February, it can really make keeping time quite difficult and sometimes one can be so busy the opportunity is missed.”
Black Hat listened to Acylius talking, he’d not actually turned his page for five minutes…his merman could transform once every four years?
That meant…oh no…
Pulling open his desk drawer, he recalled someone he’d once seen, a face human in appearance, similar to the merman’s, features hauntingly beautiful only , Flugs were far finer, far more beautiful…but what if…they were one in the same.
Setting the sketch on the desk, remembering how he’d paid heed only to their title and not their name…picking up a pencil that sat in the skull of the last crew man that had dared defy him he added ear fins and those scars, those delicate silver lines on white marble…
He stared at it , it was him, it was Acylius, looking up he found cold blue eyes staring back, he in his nonchalant manner had handed Thaddeus the Ocean and dethroned a king…if it were anyone else he would not care…but he’d done this to Flug, his Flug, was karma finally catching up to him, would the Great and Powerful Black Hat be torn down by the simple act of rejection…
Perhaps, he felt, perhaps he deserved it.
“You do not need to be a land walker to be you Flug, don’t do an Ariel she soon found herself sick for the sea and fell deep into depression when her Father had not even given her the choice to decide when she could go back to her home.”
“Who said I wanted to be human, that would be crazy, they’re all dreadful messes though there are the few exceptional such as Demencia and 505.”
Acylius raised a brow and splashed him a smirk forming on his face
“Oh I see, someone is finally putting the pieces together, stop worrying you egotistical buffoon, if I cared about being king I would have bitched about it already, true I was a caring king who took care of his subjects but they quickly changed sides when an Eldericht came to take the throne.”
He settled on the sand, shoulder to the glass and sighing, you and Hat still being perfectly able to hear him despite his being under water
“How quick they were to abandon me…fuck them, I chose to talk instead of devouring humans to be always at my full power to show I wanted peace between worlds, they wanted destruction…however…”
He looked at you with the saddest eyes and Hat felt a twist in his chest
“There were those like me, deep sea in their breed, most of them were scattered for being devoted to me, Thaddeus and his soldiers hunted them out, slaughtering them to near extinction, oh they certainly got the monster they wanted and I believe perhaps they even regret their fickle loyalty.
You ask him softly
“What is the third thing?”
“Save what little of the deep sea merfolk that still remain.”
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alexander Vodka lines
I did most of the characters, but some I don't know or genuinely can't think of anything. Hope this is good >-<
Hello: Hey there, your that Traveler fella ain’t ya? Hope I don't owe you copyrights for the name. Hm? I don’t? Well then, what can I help ya with?
Adventures? Sure why not, I could use the inspiration.
Two names: You’re curious why I have two names? Well it's sort of a thing in Snezhnaya that officers and other high ranking people have two names, like how harbingers do. Since I’m a high ranking member of the Schneznayan authors association, well former member, I have the name “Eis Cay’zar” meaning “ice ruler”. And Alexander Vodka is a pen name. Hm? What's my resistance name and real one? Well now Traveler, a man must have some secrets.
Change of tone: Ah yes, people often find the way I change from more eloquent speech to more casual off putting. Well it's the same reason I wear two sets of clothes: sometimes I feel like looking like an old noir hero, other times I like looking like a new age caped crusader. Sometimes I like sounding high society, other times I enjoy sounding like I’m from Khaen’ria.
How do you know about Khaen’ria: Well I was looking for accents and found out about a place called “New York” or something, a bit of investigation and I discovered everything. My source? That's a secret, ehe.
Good morning: Mornin’ Traveler! What's in the mornin’ paper?
Noon: Lunch time, my favourite time of the day. Let’s go get some pizza, I’m famished!
Afternoon: Almost time to punch out, let's go knock some skulls first.
Night: *yawn* Today was fun, thanks buddy. Get some shut eye, or if you can't come meet me at (wanmin/angels share/the tea house), first rounds on me!
When it rains: I am so glad I got over my fear of contacts.
When it rains(with glasses outfit): Hey can we get under something? I can barely see!
When it stops raining: The smell that comes after rain has always been one of my favorites.
When it snows: Perfect weather to bundle up with a nice hot cup of hot chocolate!
When it stops snowing: Do you ever miss home, Traveler?
About freedom: I warned Barbados, you know that? I knew that as long as he saw it coming, Signora wouldn’t stand a chance. But he just looked at me and said, “good, when I’m gone mondstadt will be truly free of the gods”. That’s a man I’d follow to the depths of the abyss and back.
About Venti: Speaking of Barbados, he’s a great drinking buddy. Me and him knock back a couple hundred rounds whenever I’m in Mondstadt! Course I’m always paying the tab, but I consider it a way of repaying him for making songs about my books.
About Kaeya: The cavalry captain? He’s pretty cool if you ask me, modeled as Rex Mondoleon for the cover of a historical fiction book I made. But I’d still like to know what he’s hiding behind that smile.
About Diluc: Don’t tell him I told you this, but one time I found Diluc after he was hit by an abyss spell that made him drunk. While he was drunk he kept ranting about how sorry he is for kicking out his brother. The poor guy has all that forgiveness in him but he’s too afraid to let it out.
About Jean: The acting grandmaster of the knights is someone truly deserving of respect. She leads by being a good person and earning the respect of her people, and she has never once tried to cover up the mistakes of the knights. In fact if a knight makes a mistake she’ll rush out to fix it. Jean should be the grandmaster, not that crooked old bastard.
About Lisa: Lisa was my first friend in Mondstadt. She mailed me about getting copies of my books into the Mondstadt library, I said I’d do a signing to promote a new one, one thing led to another and now we have tea every ninth day of the month.
About Rosaria: Don’t tell anyone, but I’m very sure she’s a vampire. A nice one, but still.
About Barbara: Awe that little doll? I once saw her kill multiple fatui because they threatened some sick and injured travelers. So I think she’s a great person, takes compassion to save lives and guts to handle taking them as well.
About Bennett: Bennett? Yeah I know him, nice kid. He likes my books but kept breaking them, so now I make special enchanted ones so he can’t break them even if he tried.
About Razor: The guardian of wolvendom? He’s a weird one alright, but he’s not a bad guy. I taught him how to read and write.
About Fischl: That crazy kid? I don’t care what everyone else says, she’s nice. People need to learn to just leave people alone, she’s not hurting anyone with her persona.
About Noelle: You will never find someone more dedicated too...well anything than Noelle is too the knights and her training.
About Klee: Klee and I are great friends! Nothing is more stimulating than massive explosions!
About Amber: She always has interesting stories to tell, like one time where she got rid of some bandits by making a dummy merchant cart filled with explosives! Or the time she had to help a kid get her pet giant snake out from the cathedral!
About Zhongli: Heh, he thinks he’s slick, but I know he’s Rex Lapis. Gotta say I kinda hate him for just giving up his gnosis, however he did it to free his people so I can’t be mad.
About Ninnguang: Never much cared for economics because I don’t know much about ‘em, so I can’t say anything about her business sense. But I can say that she’s a great leader who puts her people first.
About Keqing: Haven’t talked to her enough to know much, but she’s dedicated to her people and that's enough for me. Her dislike of blind faith in the gods is definitely enough to make me want to get to know her better though.
About Qiqi: Qiqi’s a nice kid, I don’t care what anyone says her being a zombie doesn’t make her bad.
About Baizhu: Snake man? Nice guy, helps me be accurate in my books. Always worry about him though, one hot breeze and he’s out like a light.
About Xingqiu: Xingqiu always tries to hide his good deeds, and while I can respect anonymity I can’t let a hero go unsung. So I’ve written multiple short stories about him using a different name, and put in the beginnings that it’s based on a true story.
About Chongyun: His popsicles are great inventions, I’ve played around with the idea a bit and made flavored ones. So far I’ve got strawberry and grape down and am working on this weird fruit called a..Banananana? I think?
About Beidou: Captain Beidou is so cool! She tells me stories about her journeys out to see and I write about them, but after seeing her in action I can’t really say that I do her justice.
About Kazuha: Kazuha has suffered so much, yet he refuses to give up and curl up away from the world when he so easily could. I have immense respect for him.
About Xianling: You’d be surprised at how good slime and boar tusk can be.
About Xiao: I’ve written down many myths and legends of the yaksha, but sadly I've never seen him in person.
About Verr Goldet: Oh she’s great company! Good business sense, and always polite.
About Gorou: Many people rightly attribute the Resistance’s survival and victories to general Kokomi, but it’s wrong to say general Gorou isn’t a brilliant strategist. He knows how to rally his men against impossible odds, and how to keep them standing against them. I’d follow general Gorou into battle any day.
About Ayaka: Ayaka seems so lonely, I hope when this is all done she can have some form of social life.
About Thoma: Thoma’s as cool as he seems. He always has a level head, and solves problems smoothly and without issues.
About Yoimia: KABOOOM!
About Kokomi: One time I was doing an interview of her excellency, to boost morale and draw new members. I intended on asking for her autograph, only for her to ask for mine! I’ve been riding that high for a while now and still ain’t come down.
About Signora: I hate fatui, but without that she has some good qualities: most of her power is her own unlike most other harbingers, and she’s a sharp dresser. Plus she’s actually justified in her choice to join the fatui, not excused, but isolation can justify many crimes in my book. But no matter what I can’t forgive her. She attacked my friend without a chance for him to fight back, and was unfairly cruel. Nothing can justify that, and I will not forgive her as long as she remains unapologetic for her cowardly cruelty.
About Childe: Fatui are scum, but Childe’s probably the best of them: he personally tries to keep civilians and the weak out of fatui business, and he’s only in it to make sure his family lives well. He also is powerful on his own, but most of his strength is the Tsaritsa’s well deserved gifts. Still though, he’s just a single stressful day from losing all his morals. I can’t leave the fate of my homeland to a madman like him, not unless he gets therapy.
About Scaramouche: Scaramouche...that bastard, it’s been five years and he still owes me 30,061 mora.
About the Fatui: The fatui are really just people who are lost or genuinely believe they’re in the right, and while I can sympathize and respect many of them I can't agree nor can I just stand by and watch. The grunts usually aren’t that bad, honestly they’re more like underpaid graduates new to the workforce, but the fighters you see daily? Almost all of them are scum no better than raiders, and debt collectors are the worst of them because they’ll do anything they can to scam you out of everything in their contracts.
About us-commissions: You know, if you’d like to commission a biography it’s 100 mora per ten pages.
About us-inspiration: You’re a font of inspiration for me, ya know that?
About us-fellow rebels: I’ve been with ya enough to know that this path you’re on, the one to find your sis/bro, you’re fighting against something far beyond my ability to deal with. I won’t abandon you, I’ll be here every step of the way.
About us-friends: We’ve been through a lot pal, I’m glad to call you my friend. Please, call me my rebel name: it’s Belgrade, named after the city where some very brave men took their last stand against oppression.
Hobbies: Well you have reading and writing, otherwise? Can't think of anything.
Favorite food: Grilled tiger fish, come get it while it’s hot!
Least favorite food: I really wanna try it, but I can’t have almond tofu. Or any nuts. Closes my throat right up.
Something to share: Hehe, I got embarrassing dirt on all the harbingers. Signora? She has a Tsaritsa body pillow. Scaramouche? He knits sweaters for his pet pig, cute but he hates letting people know. And Childe? Hoo man, the pics I’ve got on him have put a pretty mora on my head.
About me: Hey have you seen my dice? I wanted to teach the mondstadt kids how to play them...hm? What?! No, not gambling! It’s, uh, a tad embarrassing...h-hey look! Literally anything else, let's pay attention to it!
About me II: Alright! These rolls are great, can’t wait to use them next game. I’m so proud of Fischl, so young yet so imaginative. She’s already-ah! T-traveler! What are you doing?..
You know I’m the one meant to be learning the secrets here.
About me III: Back in Snezhnaya, everyone looks down on things that don’t “conform” where even the most rigid of nations like Inazuma have stopped caring. Adults can't play games, men can’t wear dresses, can’t even have a “weird” sense of humor. No laws against it, but being outcasted is...it’s not good…
About me IV: I wish I grew up in Mondstadt. The kids there are so free to be themselves, and the adults aren’t pressured to be nothing more than working hands. It’s not perfect, after all people are rude to Fischl and Benny for being “different”, but it’s better that’s for sure.
About me V: Hey traveler...this is...no it’s not embarrassing. You’re my friend and I have no reason to be embarrassed by wanting to enjoy time with you! Fischl’s going to run a pen and paper dice game, ever played one? It’s super fun, you get to be anything you want really, and it’s a great way to bond.
You will? Great! I’ll help you make a character!
Alexander’s troubles: It’s so hard to find publishers these days. Noone wants an actual plot, they just want twist after twist. What’s up with that?! Shock value is no substitute for characters you love living fulfilling lives.
Happy birthday: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday you crazy bastard, happy birthday to you! Seriously pal, you put yourself in harm's way every day it seems, we literally met when you were fighting an actual god! Actually, know what? No danger all day! We’re wrapping ourselves in blankets and just relaxing!
Feelings about ascension-intro: woah, somethin’ feels different. I like it!
Feelings about ascension-building up: man, I’m feeling inspired all of a sudden! Hey traveller, give me a prompt!
Feelings about ascension-climax: HA! I don’t know what high I’m riding but I like it, I just finished writing a whole book series!
Feelings about ascension-conclusion: WOO! YEAH! ULRICH MIKAEL KEEPS WINNIN’!-I-I meant Alexand-ah forget it, I’m feelin’ too good to care!
OCs:
About Louis: That crazy inventor guy from Fontaine? I heard he got used by the fatui, damn shame that. Noone deserves to have their heart played with like that.
About Spritefather: You ever heard of Spritefather? I’ve only heard legends, but the fanmail I keep getting tells me that sometimes things are only legendary until someone writes them down.
About the Storytraveler: There’s this woman who travels from universe to universe to fix things, she’s in Teyvat right now. You should meet her, really nice person. But her powers are a bit weird, why does she transform like that? It takes so much time!
_____________________
Tagging: @love-psxlm, @storytravelled, @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!
- The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized
- Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.
- You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen
- Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.
- Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.
- I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.
- The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.
- The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.
- The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city
- Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.
- Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find.
Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is.
Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.
- The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.
- I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.
- Summer Bird Blue Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.
- Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.
- The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.
- By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.
- Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.
- Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.
- Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.
- The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.
- Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner Kinky-haired Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.
- Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’
- Queen of Coin and Whispers Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.
- Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.
- This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored
- Seven Tears at High Tide- C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.
- Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.
- The Last Beginning- Lauren James- (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.
#i think i did a good job at finding alot of diverse ones and with different sexualites etc represented#i haven't read all of these but i've read some!#queer ya masterlist#book blogging#pride reads#queer books#lgbtq boo#lgbtq reads#ya books
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
TW - This story contains murder, swearing, and lots of blood. Please read at your own risk.
This is a somewhat short (~2.7K words), angsty fanfiction about Felix after the war losing his grip, and taking out his frustration in the form of, well, murder. I also would like to say that this is in no way me trying to hate on Dimitri. He is one of my favorite characters, and that is a piece of fiction. I do not agree with everything Felix thinks here, it is fiction. Enjoy!
Felix woke up in a cold sweat. He jolts awake, gasping for air. Glenn... He buries his face in his hands. It's been 10 years, so get out of my head!
Felix hasn't gone a single day without questioning why he alone had to be the sole survivor of his family. Peace was attained, the war was won, Felix was married to the love of his life. Everything was supposed to be good.
He was supposed to be happy.
And part of him was. Truly was happy. Being the new duke of the kingdom had its downsides, but he could finally live freely.
But another part of him was dying, eating away at his very existence. They left you, Felix. They all left you for him. Felix clenches his fist in the silk sheets of his bed, his knuckles turning white. All for that stupid, blond bastard.
Why him?! Why did they have to die for him?! All because of him, Felix had lost everything. With every single day that passed by, that small voice in the back of Felix's head grew louder. It's all his fault, Felix. It's his fault that they're gone.
Felix sighs and gets out of his bed, extra careful to not wake up his lover. He makes his way down to the back door of the Fraldarius Estate, the wood stairs softly creaking with every step. He remembers his childhood. "Felix, little bro!" Glenn would harshly whisper. "Yes, I know. It's the third, ninth, and sixteenth ones that creak." Felix would nod, making his way down as fast as he could. Felix smiles at the thought. They would always sneak out together at night to play...
Felix told his retainers that he simply wanted to be left alone for the time being. He doesn't bother grabbing a jacket. He steps outside into the snow and sighs, his breath foggy in the frigid temperatures of Faerghus.
"Felix... Do you think there will ever be a day where we can rest peacefully?" A voice that sounds too much like Glenn whispers in his ear. Felix gasps, turning around. "Glenn?! Who's there?" He says, stepping backwards in shock and falling back into the snow.
But there was nobody.
Felix takes a deep breath. I'm sure I'm just imagining things. What nonsense, how pathetic. Felix pushes himself up from the snow, his body beginning to shake from the cold. "I should go train." He mutters, turning to the direction of the door.
He hears a deep sigh coming from behind him. "Felix, my son, we've talked about this several times. It's rude to ignore people, especially your own brother."
Felix turns around to be met with his father, who was still looking the exact same as he did the night of his death. He burned with hatred. "Huh. That's damn funny coming from you. You were always the one ignoring me for that idiotic blond mop! Dimitri this, Dimitri that... I'm your son. But you never acknowledged that. Leave me alone, you old bastard."
"Felix, bro, calm down. Why fret over it? The dead are dead, right? We're gone. Forever. You have no right to criticize dad for what he's done because he's dead. The dead are dead, and the living are living." Says Glenn, stepping towards his father. He had seemed to age from when Felix had last seem him. Still towering over him, of course. Felix looks up into his blue eyes, the same shade as his father's, "I know that. Unlike some people around here, I know how to practice what I preach. But... But... I... Nevermind. I'll be going now. Goodbye." He begins to make a beeline towards the door.
"But what, little brother? Spit it out, I know you want to. How did you expect us to rest peacefully when he's still out there?" Asks Glenn, reaching up to tighten his ponytail. Glenn hadn't changed at all. Still obsessed with his hair, still clearly following that 5 step skin routine he was so insistent on, still had that one stupid strand of hair that was more wavy than the others and refused to sit flat upon his head, still Glenn. He was still Glenn. Felix feels a pang in his heart. His brother... He felt like home.
"He took us from you, Felix." Says Rodrigue, nodding along.
"Shut up. You're wrong. Both of you gave up your lives for him. How foolish." Felix says through clenched teeth. The cold of the air was beginning to bite at him, but he didn't care. "Both of you left me for him! For him! You gave up your lives like fools for one man. That's what you chose to do. Why? Why couldn't you have just lived? Why is he so important?!" Felix screams.
"Felix, sweetheart, we didn't want to die for him. He only did it because we had to. This is all his fault, Felix. Blame Dimitri, not us. Right, father?" Says Glenn, the a small smirk on his face.
"Of course, my son. He did this to us, and you're the only person who can avenge us." Nods Rodrigue, a gentle smile on his face. It's been so long since Felix had seen that smile...
Felix clutches his throbbing head in his hands, "Get out of my head! Y-You're wrong! There is no avenging the dead! Go away!" Felix shouts into the cold air.
Glenn chuckles.
"Maybe you'll finally get it when you stop lying to yourself. You hate him, Felix. You always have." He purrs, leaning in.
"No! The war is over. He's saved us so many times and he's... he's... my friend!"
A sigh from Glenn. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I forgot about that phase where you couldn't do crap without your pretty little prince by your side. You were a damn cute kid, but damn were you annoying."
Rodrigue softly chuckles, "Glenn, my boy, that sharp tongue of yours truly is relentless."
Felix clenches his fist and tries to throw a punch at Glenn. His hand just goes through him and he falls back into the snow. So cold...
"So quick to resort to violence... You really just a kid, Felix. Just a lost, scared kid who's neck-deep in denial. He's a horrible man. Just open your eyes to the truth." Says Glenn, looking deeply, too deeply, into Felix's eyes. His glare was intense. Felix topped a step back..
"Indeed. How long is it going to take for you to avenge us, Felix?! How long is it going to take for you for bring us his head, like how you've wanted to for so many years?" Sighs Rodrigue, gently rubbing his temples from stress.
"Yeah, Felix. We've been waiting for too long. You're disappointing. We lost everything because of that boy..." Whispers Glenn, staring up at the pale sky.
Felix blinks and they're gone. He buries his face in his hands, tears burning at the edges of them. He shivers in the snow, sniffing from the cold.
One of his retainers comes running outside with a thick, wool blanket. "Lord Felix, please, I insist that you come inside. You're going to catch a cold." She says, offering him a hand.
Felix ignores it and stands up on his own. He stares hole into the ground. "Fine. But, um, I have a question." Felix says, hesitating. "Nevermind, forget I said anything." He needed time to think. Is this truly the right decision...? Felix sighs. Maybe it is. Glenn and Father can finally rest peacefully...
"Of course, my lord." His retainer nods, wrapping him in the blanket. "Would you like for me to brew you some tea? Margrave Gautier gave us a new blend from Almyra. He said that he's been saving it for you and that it's extremely spicy."
"Hmph, fine." He mutters, walking through the door and back into the warmth of his home. He sits down on the large couch in front of the fireplace, watching his retainer prepare the teapot. Father... Glenn... They're hurting. It's all his fault. I was stupid to think that they truly and willingly gave up their lives for him...
"My lord, if I may speak freely, why were you out there? You looked like you were in very much distress. Are you... okay?" The old woman asks, preparing the hot water.
"... Glenn. Father... I must avenge them." He whispers, hugging his knees to his chest.
"Pardon? I didn't quite catch that."
Felix stands up abruptly, tossing aside the blanket and slamming his hand down onto the table. "FATHER AND GLENN NEED ME! THEY'RE IN PAIN AND I'M SITTING AROUND AND BLUBBERING FOR NO REASON!" He scowls, "Make arrangements for me to travel to Fhirdiad as soon as possible. It's for important work."
"M-My lord, are you alright? You're not yourself..."
"You heard what I said. Make the arrangements. Now." He says, storming up the stairs to his study, abandoning his tea.
Felix sits down in the chair of his study, pulling at his own hair. Father, Glenn... No. This is what they would want.
He reaches over to a small, but effective, hunting dagger he kept on his desk. He gently runs his fingers over the textured, wooden handle of the blade. I've skinned so many animals with this... One more won't hurt.
The professor gave this dagger to him on his birthday. He remembers the day vividly. What would the professor say? Would they be disappointed in him? Or would they encourage him to walk his own path?
It doesn't matter, Felix. This is what you want, and it's all for us. For your family. This is the only way we can rest peacefully.
Felix takes a deep breath.
"I'm doing this for you. Both of you."
~~~~~~
It had been weeks since the day he first saw his father and brother begging him to allow them to rest peacefully. Every single day, their voices only grew louder. Felix felt like he was going insane. They were everywhere. Do something, Felix... Bring us his head...
And now, he was at the Palace in Fhirdiad.
Dimitri's advisor couldn't do anything but sigh upon seeing the Duke.
"Good morning, Duke Fraldarius. You requested a meeting with the king?"
Felix nods, "I did."
"For what? And please make it quick, he has an extremely busy schedule full of things much more important than you."
"Hmph," Grunts Felix, "I doubt it. I just... need to play him a visit. Just want to see how an old friend's doing, nothing more."
"Ugh," The young adviser sighs, "He should be taking a break from his papers soon, you can go on ahead to his room."
"Got it. Thank you." Felix mutters, already making his way to the king's office. Felix was dressed in his formal Duke robes. Truth be told, he hated them. It was hard to move quickly and the fashion choice is just... Felix shivers at the thought. He always knew his father had horrible taste, but when did it get this bad?! He made a mental note to commission a new outfit, perhaps something more similar to his war uniform. Practical and stylish, two things the Fraldarius family were always sure to balance. With the exception of his father, of course. What even was that mustache?! At least Glenn knew what he was doing. He cared about his outfits almost as much as he did his knighthood.
Felix can feel the knife inside his sleeve. It was lightweight and small, but it seemed to be dragging him down.
He feels a pair of eyes on him.
Felix turns around in a flash, hand instinctively reaching for the sword he always kept by his side regardless of what he was wearing.
There was nobody there.
Felix sighs and lowers his hand from his blade. "I'm sure I was just imagining things." He whispers to himself, continuing to walk through the carpeted halls of the palace. "Sir, are you alright?" Questions one of the knights who was assigned to his side for safety.
"Yes, my apologizes. Don't worry about me."
Felix continued to walk until the reached the large door on the highest floor of the palace. He remembers following his father here when he met up with Lambert.
Felix takes a deep breath. Glenn, Father... I am doing this for you. He knocks on the door firmly.
"You may come in." Responds a voice behind the door.
Felix opens the door and steps inside. "Hello, Dimitri."
Dimitri looks up from his paperwork, almost like an excited puppy. "Felix! Hello! What brings you here?" He smiles, pushing all his papers aside, "Pardon the mess, things have been rather hectic as of late!" He chuckles, standing up from his chair. Felix takes a good look at him. He looked... happy. His long, blond hair was tied up in a small ponytail in the back of his head, and the scar on his eye was healing nicely. He was dressed in a thin, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Around the desk was several broken quills. Felix would smile, but he couldn't. Not after what he was about to do.
"I just... wanted to visit, that's all. Can we... chat? We need to talk." Felix says, and he could've sworn that he heard a chuckle that sounded a bit too much like Glenn come from behind him. But he payed it no mind. Felix's imagination had been running rampant as of late.
"Of course!" The young king smiles and reverts his attention to the knights behind Felix, "May you please leave us alone for a bit?" They all left.
Felix's heart starts pounding faster in his chest.
"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Felix?" Dimitri asks, stepping close to Felix. Was this really the right choice..?
"You." Says Felix, grabbing the knife from his sleeve. He roughly shoves Dimitri against the wall, the bookshelves shaking from the force.
"Me?! Felix... What are you doing?" Dimitri asks in a panic.
"What father and Glenn couldn't!" He screams, plunging the knife into Dimitri's stomach. Dimitri gasps, "Stop this! Knigh-"
Dimitri tries to call for help, but he couldn't. Not when Felix was tackling him to the ground. Felix hovers over him.
"You took everything that I loved!" He screams, his face red with fury. Almost as red as the blood staining his hands. He takes the knife out and plunges it back into Dimitri's shoulder.
"They all died for you, you bastard!" Felix sniffs, tears stinging at his eyes.
"Felix... No... They died for what they... believed in." Dimitri says weakly, rolling them over so that he was on top. He stands up as fast as he can, shirt soaked with crimson. He attempts to stop the bleeding with his hands, but there was too much.
"You took them away from me. All my life, it was always Dimitri this, Dimitri that. Have you any idea how painful it was?! When Father came to me in tears, telling me that Glenn was gone because of you?! Of course you don't, you useless bastard!" Felix shouts, kicking at Dimitri's chest, knocking him down to the floor.
"Felix, stop this nonsense. It... hurts..." Dimitri whispers, his blood soaking into the wooden floor. But even so, he kept fighting. He tried to push himself back up.
"It hurts, huh?! Good!" Felix says, hot tears streaming down his face as he tackles Dimitri back down to the ground.
Felix grabs the knife again, holding it up to Dimitri's neck, applying just enough pressure to make him bleed.
"Glenn was hurting too." Felix whispers in the king's ear.
Felix removes the knife from his neck, and stabs him again. Again and again. "That one's," the plunges the knife into him once again, "for father!"
"YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM YOU! YOU TOOK THEM BOTH AWAY FROM YOU! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! YOU'LL PAY!"
"Felix.... why...?" Was all Dimitri could get out before collapsing, becoming as limp as a ragdoll.
Felix sobs, he can't stop sobbing. He holds the body close to him.
He looks down at his hands.
Red.
He looks at his clothes.
Red.
He only sobs harder.
"I-I'm sorry. Father... Glenn... You can rest easy now..."
The Knights come rushing in upon hearing the ruckus.
"Your Highness!" They scream.
There was so much blood, and Felix felt sick.
He clutches the body close to him, and he keeps sobbing. He couldn't stop sobbing, damnit.
The knight looks at him in horror, "You traitor! You bastard!"
Another one lifts him up by the neck. "I would kill you here and now, but where's the fun in that? Take him away."
"I-I'm sorry..."
"It's too late for apologies. He's gone! To hell with you!" He ties Felix's hands together, "I'm looking forward to watching you suffer.
#tw murder#tw blood#so um yeah that was a fun one#fire emblem#fire emblem three houses#fire emblem 16#fe3h#fe16#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#dimitri fire emblem#felix hugo fraldarius#felix fire emblem#fanfiction#fire emblem fanfiction#fire emblem fanfic#fire emblem angst#glenn fraldarius#rodrigue achille fraldarius#my writing
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
good omens tinyfic prompt: gasping
Crowley feels he is handling things extremely well, overall. Aziraphale came back from Hell proud and laughing, and Crowley pushed back his own worries, laughed with him and praised his cleverness and took him to lunch. Aziraphale phoned him at two in the morning, saying with a shake in his voice “I’m sorry, I just, I had to check–” and Crowley, still mostly-asleep, said “Half a sec,” slid down the phone line and manifested in the bookshop to hold him until he could stop trembling: here I am, angel, here I am, no one’s taking me from you ever again. He’s spent days on end loitering in the back room of the shop, waiting for Aziraphale to need him; he’s fetched cups of tea and bottles of wine and, once, when he felt Aziraphale particularly needed comforting, a slice of Sachertorte retrieved directly from Vienna (this effort went unnoticed, but he did get to watch Aziraphale eat the cake, so it was worth it anyway). He has been the very picture of a pillar of support.
Crowley has not had a good week. But Aziraphale has had a worse one – lost the bookshop (even if he did regain it), lost the corporeal form he’s so attached to (even if ditto), lost whatever faith he had left in Heaven, very nearly lost the entire stupid, splendid world he loves so much. He needs comforting, needs looking after, and Crowley is here to provide it.
And if he’s spending more nights than usual sleepless, if he’s drinking a little more freely and being a little less careful to sober up before bed, if once or twice he’s woken up breathless and panicked and nearly made a two o’clock phone call of his own before dragging himself back under control – well, it’s no one’s concern but his own, is it? He’s doing it in his own flat, and well out of Aziraphale’s way, and not giving the angel anything more to worry about than he has already.
He can’t tell Aziraphale about the dreams, anyway, because he’d have to tell him about what happened in Heaven first. And he hasn’t done that because – well – because he doesn’t need to know, obviously, because it would only have hurt him and it was easier to shrug a little too casually and say “‘Bout the same, really,” and let him go on believing Heaven would show at least as much mercy as Hell.
Not because he doesn’t think he could say it aloud. Not because it would break something in him, to see Aziraphale’s face fall. Only because Aziraphale has had enough troubles as it is, and Crowley isn’t going to give him any new ones to deal with.
Anyway, he’s a demon. Demons lie. It’s what his forked tongue was made for – although lying to spare the feelings of an angel probably didn’t factor into Hell’s intentions at the time.
And it doesn’t matter, anyway. He has everything under control. He is handling the situation fine, he is under no stress at all, and this is all very good and very convincing until the ninth day after Armageddon, when he’s half-dozing on the couch in Aziraphale’s back room and hears the door jingle, and a startled little oh from the direction of Aziraphale’s desk, and then a big, genial, American-accented voice saying, “Hi, I’m looking for–”
Crowley is off the couch before he’s even fully awake, charging out into the front of the shop, his sunglasses abandoned and hellfire in his eyes. Aziraphale is in front of the rarely-used till, the intruder standing on the other side of the counter; Crowley bolts for the angel, shoulders his way in front of him, and spits, “Touch him and I ssswear I’ll sssssee you burn.”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale snaps at him, a reprimand. It’s not the sort of tone people normally take when confronted with the Serpent of Eden in all his hissing, flaming glory, even people who have known him for six thousand years, and it gives Crowley pause for just long enough to look up and realize that there is not, in fact, an archangel in the shop. That he’s just come roaring out of the back room at some poor ordinary human, who doesn’t even, now that his conscious mind has time to think about it, sound that much like Gabriel.
He subsides, a little, and manages with an effort to turn the boiling hiss into a, “Sssorry.”
The human bolts anyway.
“Showss what good it doess you, apologizing,” Crowley mutters, trying to rein himself back.
Failing to rein himself back. The hissing, spitting rage has deserted him, but it hasn’t left him calm; he can’t stop thinking how the stranger was within arm’s reach of Aziraphale by the time he got there, how if it had been Gabriel he would have been too late, even as close as he was – can’t stop thinking of the pillar of hellfire–
“Crowley,” Aziraphale says again, from just behind him, and then, alarmed, “Crowley, what just happened? Are you all right?”
You’re upsetting Aziraphale, you idiot, shape up, Crowley snarls at himself, but he can’t seem to pull himself together enough to answer. His hands are shaking, his breath coming in desperate little gasps – he doesn’t even need to breathe, why can’t he get under control–
He can hear Aziraphale step away, glass clinking in the back room. A moment later the angel’s back at his elbow, pushing a glass into his hand. “Sit down,” Aziraphale says. “Drink this. I mean – come sit down first.”
There’s a hint of that terrible two-in-the-morning shake in his voice again; Crowley curses himself for a bastard, but even for Aziraphale’s sake he can’t make himself settle down, can’t steady his breathing. He takes a long sip of the liquor, which helps a little, and says hoarsely, “Gabriel.”
“What,” Aziraphale says, sharp and alarmed.
“I mean – I thought it was Gabriel coming in here. From the voice.”
“Why would–”
“They won’t leave you alone,” Crowley says, desperately. “Hell might, but Heaven – you didn’t see Gabriel’s face, he’ll come after you, I know he will–”
He doesn’t dare look at Aziraphale, but he’s close enough to hear the angel’s intake of breath. “And you came charging out to protect me.”
“I have to.” Crowley’s still shaking; he takes another swallow of liquor, but the panic’s still there, bubbling just below the surface. “I didn’t mean for you to know – I didn’t want you to worry, you’ve had so much to worry about already, I thought if I could stay close enough, keep you safe–”
“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale says gently, takes the half-empty glass from Crowley’s hand and gathers him into his arms, and that’s all Crowley can take; he feels something give inside of him, and he buries his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder, sobbing, vaguely conscious that this should be humiliating but unable to bring himself to care.
When he surfaces, eventually, he’s mildly surprised to discover they’ve somehow made it to the couch, Aziraphale leaning back against one armrest and Crowley draped across him, nearly in his lap.
He starts to straighten up, opening his mouth to apologize. Aziraphale puts a firm hand on the back of his neck and says, “Absolutely not.”
“Angel–”
“Stay put. Sleep, if you can.” Aziraphale’s grip softens, his hand shifting up to stroke through Crowley’s hair. “You’ve been looking after me so well, my dear, and I didn’t even realize. Let me look after you for a bit.”
I don’t need looking after, Crowley wants to protest. But he’s so comfortable, and Aziraphale is so warm, and he feels so worn and weary, drained of the desperate tension he’s been carrying…
He does drift off, slowly, Aziraphale’s fingers tracing patterns in his hair. And if he wakes gasping again, the pillar of hellfire vivid in his mind, to find Aziraphale already holding him close and murmuring comfort – maybe there’s something to this, to not bearing it all on his own.
#anonymous#good omens#good omens tinyfics#ineffable husbands#'tinyfics' somewhat less accurate of a tag than usual#askbox prompts#as i have said: i have a boundless appetite for the eventual total freakout crowley is going to have#the inevitable result was that i would write it myself
460 notes
·
View notes
Photo
( jordan connor, male, he/him )╰ ✧ ˔ ⭒ magic is in the air ! oh wait - that’s just our newest neighbor, AUGUST YOUNG, the 29 year old METAL WORKER WORKER. they’ve been relocated from pastoral city, and so far the locals claim that they’re HARD WORKING and EXTREMELY HOT HEADED, just like CALCIFER from HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE. if you ask me, they seem like the type to enjoy MORNING COFFEES AND CALMING MUSIC. apparently, they are STUBBORN about entering rome pines, and i don’t think their power of FIRE CONTROL will help them this time. let’s just hope they can adjust to the new neighborhood…⭒˔ ╮
Character Biography:
tw: abuse, exorcism
GENERAL
Name: august young
Age: 29
Place of birth: pastoral city
Spoken languages: English, learning ASL, chinese
Sexual orientation: heterosexual
Occupation: metal worker
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Black
Height: 6′4′’
Scars: across back and arms, hands (burns from the false exorcism)
Tattoos: back of both hands; rose on one and wolf on the other.
FAVOURITE
Color: any of the colors that associate with fall; brownish-reds, deep oranges
Entertainment: watching 80′s movies, cooking, listening to crime podcasts, parties
Pastime: beer pong, movies, flirting, reading
Drink: peach soda and double shot espresso
Character Biography:
tw: abuse, exorcism, harsh religion
Teeth snap, cold kitchen floor covered by broken glass, and a fear that if you don’t stand straight you’d be facing that tile at a much more close proximity. This would be the ruling of a father who was driven by golden liquor and a line of men before him who left him in the exact place that his son was standing before him. August would have been six when this started with his father. Nightly rants about discipline and failures only to turn against them again and again. He could quote his old man to the point that it was a record that played in his head constantly; loud and set a road of brash behavior and closed fists at his sides. The kitchen was where august learned; how to be emotionless, fearless, and above all, how to be angry. The anger was something that ran thick in the family’s blood and boy time did not wear it thin when it came to august. If it wasn’t at his father it was at the world that would grind him down and keep him from being victorious. heart of the demon spirit that fire only grew much stronger.
pastoral was not a small town, and new of magic. but people knew everything, and they all had a set views of rights and wrongs. an one of those wrongs were the august; a boy out of control when it came to his fire. sinful demons is what they have always been known as, and a curse on their town and that was only brought to pure hate toward august who never proved them wrong. always having destroyed everything when his anger set him ablaze. his town figured after so long they had to do something to stop these angry tantrums from continuing to ruin their city. a few pastoral citizens came together to stop the boy who they saw as a danger more than a benefit, wanting to get rid of that anger in him. it was a highly religious man, someone who thought he could fix this rage in the boy and then he would no longer be a threat to their ity.
one night, when august was 19 he found himself walking home after a football game and before he knew it there was darkness after someone had his him in the back of the head and more dragged him off. if anyone was witness it wasn’t as if they cared to report it. he finally woke up in the a warehouse, men surrounding him, holding buckets of water, or anything to settle a fire. but after getting such a hit to the head the boy was too out of focus to even get his magic going enough to cause damage. then they started. an exorcism was supposed to cast out what everyone had imagined was a demon... only they never knew how wrong they were. only a boy with a mean streak they were burning an innoent victim to just someone who didn’t know how to cope with growing up in a rough household. and after hours of grueling torture on the boy they left him off by taking hot bars and branding his skin with religious symbols on his back, hands, and legs. he had never felt so much pain before in his life and screamed through the night. only they never knew there was no casting out a young boys anger. he was just fire, and tired of not knowing how to control the bad things in his life.
august always knew hatred. it seemed every person hated him, all but one girl he met in the ninth grade. his beaming light who had helped him through every fall in his life. she was perfection in every way, so beautiful, so kind, and never once did she show phoenix fear. they were best friends. and he soon fell madly in love with her only always fearing to express his feelings and have the girl reject him. she had even helped him recover the night the men of the town preformed the exorcism on him. she made sure his wounds healed... even if he would forever have the scars to remind him by.
years of hiding his love came to an end, he was ready to tell her, confident that she had to feel something for him as well. he invited her to come to a place in an old building that they had always hung out, the one place they could be alone. but when he arrived he found she had brought someone she had just started dating, she was going to introduce them in hopes they could all be friends. but this only sent august into a terrible inferno and before he knew it he had set the whole abandoned building ablaze. the girl and the other male had just barely made it out alive and the group of men had enough. they wanted the boy taken in and dealt with whatever cost necessary. and with the random fires going on they only blamed him.
but when they went to get him august had already left. on his way to start over his life and hide from ever being found. he was ashamed of what he had done. once again his actions made people hate him. he traveled for a while and it wasn’t until he walked the streets of rome pines that he found he could stop running. no one knew of his magic there.
Headcanons
- he does what he can to hide his scars. keeping long sleeves on at all costs he hates to be able to look down and see how he was branded for life to remember what people thought of him.
- when it comes to dress you can image a boy like him doesn’t like to spend much on clothes. turning into a fireball has taught him to live cheap on clothes. the only expensive thing he’s bought were thick jackets mostly of leather or fire resistant materials.
- he doesn’t like to be around much people. but one would see why he is increasingly more harsh toward men. it was men who had always abused him. and he tends to find getting along with them more difficult.
-he is terrified of snakes. something about their bodies freak him out.
-he loves food and drinks though; his favorites being pasta, peach tea, fried chicken, and his absolute favorite thing ever is cinnamon rolls.
-listens to ASMR to sleep; nothing too strange. he ironically loves the sound of rain or anything that reminds him of rain. the sounds tapping sounds get him to fall asleep almost instantly.
-he works as a metal shop worker a few times a week. yeah, a boy who can control fire works around fire. call him basic.
-he loves breakfast. bacon, eggs, coffee, cook him breakfast and he might take a liking to you.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
tagged by @ashipwreckcoast for a question thinger. I’m bored out of my skull and I like these questions so here you go. You should do it. Yes, you. Why? Because? I don’t have real reazons.
Putting this under a cut because its long and I don’t want to clog up your dash.\
1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black, specifically Pilot G2 pens. But really? I like a good dark dark green. My dog ate my favorite pen and I haven’t been able to find one in that color since.
2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? I’ve sort of done both. I love living in a city, with all the vibrancy and life that it entails. There’s public transit, arts and culture, so many kinds of food, interesting people and always something going on. But for the last few years, I’ve been wanting to get back to something like where I went to school, where I lived for 7 months on a lake and the next closest people (besides us 9) were 5 miles away (the road up to the field station was 2 miles by itself and we got snowed in and flooded in on more than one occasion). I miss being close to deep nature and the peace that comes from being alone.
So which do I prefer? I don’t really know. I’ve been living back in a city for the past eight years but I’m feeling like its time for a change. I don’t think I’ll leave cities forever though. I like people and diversity too much.
3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? For fun, I’d want to pick up leatherworking, blacksmithing, and/or woodworking. I’m currently not set up well to do any of them though. For practicality though, I’d want to learn general house maintenance.
4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Depends on the tea, but often yes. Coffee gets an obscene amount of hazelnut creamer because I hate coffee but I love caffeine.
5. What was your favourite book as a child? The Hobbit. My dad and step-dad both read it to me at different points of my childhood and my dad gave me his copy (The Hobbit or There and Back Again, 1977 Illustrated edition)
6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers. Baths are well and good if you have a big enough one (which I don’t) and you don’t stay in so long it gets cold (I don’t).
7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Upon reading this question, every single mythical creature that I’d ever read about immediately vanished from my memory. I’m going to have to come back to this one.
I came back to this one and I still don’t know. I like the idea of flying. But I don’t really want to be hunted out to extinction.
8. Paper or electronic books? I love paper books, but I read much better via ebook. I still haven’t read Gideon the Ninths because the pages are so soft I just sit and pet them instead of read.
9. What is your favourite item of clothing? BOXERS! Or rather, boxer-briefs. I know this sounds weird but bear with me. For some reason, when I started transitioning, it did not occur to me to buy mens underwear. When I finally did, It Was Amazing. I looked great. I felt great. I finally understood why so many people had “fun” underwear that they liked. Before, I had like one or two that had patterns/stuff on them. Now? I’ve got Star Wars and Captain Marvel and Deadpool and mountains and mushrooms and one with boxers that makes me laugh because there’s boxers on boxers!! And I can wear them whenever the fuck I want! So I always have something fun on, even (especially) if other folks can’t see it. Switching to boxers was such a weirdly affirming thing for my gender and I love it.
10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? This is complicated. I like my legal name, sure, but its not me, not really. I did get the spelling updated on it legally when I was 16 so I could actually get my driver’s license. I haven’t had a chance to change my legal name since transitioning (between the election and COVID, I don’t know that I’d get through all of the legal rigmarole in time to vote in November), but I really like my chosen name and an altered version of my legal name will be my new middle name.
11. Who is a mentor to you? I’ve had so many over the years. I learn so much from people, but I had so many great mentors when I worked at the museum. Timshel stands out. If I can be half the mentor she is to someone, I’ll have put some real solid good into the world.
12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? No. Not in the everyone knows you sense. That’s not my jam. I wouldn’t mind having fame more in the sense of within a tiny field, being well known and respected.
13. Are you a restless sleeper? Yes... to the point where I’m seeing a sleep specialist in a month to sort it out.
14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Very much so. But there’s so many different ways to be romantic.
15. Which element best represents you? I hate these questions. I see bits of myself in all of the elements. People often associate me with air or water though.
16. Who do you want to be closer to? Distance wise, my family in California. I come from a bunch of very close knit families and so having folks on the other side of the country that I’m super close with is ihard.
17. Do you miss someone at the moment? “Everyone. Being solitary by choice as opposed to demand is a big difference.” I’m just going to leave @ashipwreckcoast‘s response here because it fits. I’m very lucky that I am still working in a (relatively) safe environment, but we’re all missing out on things like throwing a housewarming party for one of my closest friends/coworkers. Even though we see each other almost daily, we’re still missing out on a lot that we’d normally do. That’s even worse for folks I’m not seeing at all because of COVID.
18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I legit thought I was a wolf and would howl at the neighbors when mom packed me into the wagon to go do laundry at the laundromat. The neighbors, being good people, howled back.
19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? There have been a few times where I wasn’t sure what I was eating. One was at a wedding with 10 or 12 courses (I lost count) and some of them were foods I’d never seen before. I know jellyfish was on that list but there was a bunch of other stuff that I don’t know what it was. The few times I’ve been out of the country, I ate stuff I couldn’t identify (often due to language barriers). The seafood soup at the one place was just whatever they caught that day and it had a lot in it. I remember being disappointed in my fellow grad students when some of them turned it down. You don’t turn down food when you’re a guest unless you have a medical reason for doing so. But the thing is, none of these are strange, except by the US standards. So if that’s true, then the deep fried dragonfly should also be on this list.
20. What are you most thankful for? Most? That’s so hard to quantify. If I really think about it, it’s things like having a loving partner and a home and food and the ability to pay my bills, I guess.
21. Do you like spicy food? I do not like capsaisin related spices but I love horseradish type spices. I do liked well spiced, but not necessarily spicy, foods.
22. Have you ever met someone famous? A few times. Sometimes at the museum (worked with some of them). Sometimes at special events, like attending lectures.
23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? Generally no. I do sometimes get the urge to write and reflect on stuff, so I’ll do that when the mood strikes.
24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? I’ve been trained to use pens for everything (I work in a chem lab). Pencils are fine, but you need the right kind for the satisfying scratchiness. I cannot abide scratchiness in my pens.
25. What is your star sign? Cancer. Why is this important?
26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Not super soggy but not straight out of the box crunchy. Does that make sense?
27. What would you want your legacy to be? I want my legacy to be built on kindness and helping others. I know that’s cheesy and cliche, but I have so much privilege that I want to use to benefit others.
28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love reading. I’m on book 30 for the year. The last one I finished was Starsight by Brandon Sanderson, which is book 2 of 3 of the Skyward series and HE HASN’T STARTED BOOK 3 YET!! I read Skyward and Starsight in four days total.
29. How do you show someone you love them? I often cook for them.
30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Only for certain things. I don’t mind drinking most drinks at room temperature and ice waters stuff down. It’s good for iced tea though, but only if you need to cool it.
31. What are you afraid of? This isn’t a fair question. I’m afraid of being abandoned or fucking things up. I’m also afraid of spiders and the milk in my fridge expiring. I’m afraid of filling out forms (forms are really hard and make me extremely anxious). I’m afraid of phone calls, but I’m good at them. I’m afraid of public speaking, but you’d never know it unless I told you. I’m afraid of losing the people I love, of dying without having put some good into the world. I’m afraid for my neighbors, for my brothers and sister, for my niece. The world is overwhelmingly scary right now.
32. What is your favourite scent? Campfires, the smell of a fresh spring rain, leather, the weird musky scent of my kitten, of garlic and onions cooking low and slow. There’s too many.
33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? Depends on who and in what context I know them.
34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d travel a lot more. I’d donate to a lot of things. Museums, arts, individuals. I’d love to just go on to gofundme and just straight up fund folks to their goals plus a bit extra. And then go figure out where the systematic failures were that lead to them not being able to afford it in the first place.
35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Ocean. Absolutely. But this is also lake and river erasure.
36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? I guess exchange it for USD.
37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yeah. They’re magical every time.
38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? Be kind. To yourself and others.
39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I’ve got several I want. I was supposed to get an anchor with an octopus chilling on it on my inner forearm for my one year anniversary on testosterone but then COVID hit and well... who know when I‘ll get it.
40. What can you hear now? Mostly just the AC and the tack of the keys on the keyboard. Occasionally a particularly loud vehicle makes itself known.
41. Where do you feel the safest? Curled up with my partner and dog.
42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? Probs my anxiety.
43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be?
44. What is your most used emoji? The crying laughing one. I survive on sending stupid memes and shit back and forth with too many people. After that, the heart.
45. Describe yourself using one word. Oof
46. What do you regret the most? Not trusting myself when I figured out I was trans back in undergrad. That whole decade of burying it all and internalizing a lot of transphobia really did a number on myself.
47. Last movie you saw? I think it was Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn
48. Last tv show you watched? Rewatching Avatar with my partner right now. We just finished She-Ra.
49. Invent a word and its meaning. I just... I don’t know. I’m a Webster. I just compile what other people say in a book.
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Day 7: Free Day!
Did I ever mention about a fic draft I had since October? Because about that... 8)
Kisses
Summary: The first was an accident, the second an experiment, the third a challenge, and he kept track of all of them.
Words: 2345
Notes:
Special thanks to @nemirutami for editing this fic! <3
I wanted to post it on ao3 too, but I don’t have an account and my email is on queue to get an invitation, so I’ll be late there. orz
I hope you like it!
Their first kiss was an accident.
Tuesday was supposed to be just another afternoon exploring Mementos. It had become routine already, no big threats, a lot of bumps, a few treasure chests, some requests to fulfill, shadows blocking their way… just another day.
Until a badly executed curve abruptly threw everyone to one side of the car. And the two guys in the backseat just happened to be facing each other in that one instant.
It had almost gone by unnoticed, since the girls were too busy complaining about the driver and Mona to mind them. But for some cursed reason, their minds decided to register the very moment their lips clashed.
It was too fast to process any taste, too light because their masks were in the way - and it hurt -, but the mortified expression from the punk was printed in the painter’s memory, and that touch alone would disturb the both of them for the following nights to come.
*
Their second kiss was an experiment.
What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii. Or so they say.
It was with that thought that the blond invited his eccentric friend for a walk around the city. No one they knew was around. Everybody seemed too excited to make the last day on beach count, since it was unlikely for another chance like this one to appear.
Perhaps the fact that the boys were so different and distant, yet managed to become teammates and friends, was what allowed them to trust each other enough to conceal their doubts and curiosity.
That wouldn’t be their first time together.
The kiss was chaste, but now, deliberated. Their moist lips pressed lightly against the other, chilly on their flushed skin and warm breaths. Gawky fingers mindlessly brushed against tender palms, looking for some small ounce of support. It only took a second, but the turmoil they had been feeling inside was dissolved, like butterflies fluttering away.
They promised to not talk about it again and forget what happened. But the smile the vulgar boy had on his lips proved impossible to ignore.
That promise was doomed to be broken.
*
Their third kiss was a challenge.
It was like a silent, secretive game the two teens were playing, and the reward was the jolts of satisfaction whenever they exchanged affection without anyone else noticing. Every glance was a calling for the other, each time the troublemaker bit his lower lip, he meant “wait a minute, I’m coming.”, and in reply, the taller brushed his dark hair behind the ear, “I am waiting.”.
They stood next to each other more frequently, and the closer they got, the more they teased. A hand hovered on the other, a leg leaned against another under the table, shoulders nudged for attention, wishing for some contact, and small murmurs were exchanged in whispers.
It happened in Mementos again - a moment of distraction when the group found a locked treasure chest - when Skull tugged Fox’s sleeve and took a chance. It was as fast as they expected it to be; more like a face clumsily pushing against another as quickly as possible, and it wasn’t enough to cease their desires.
But it was something Ryuji was proud of stealing.
*
Their fourth kiss was an answer.
The two friends could keep pretending they didn’t know the meaning behind their caressing exchanges, feeding their needs with small hidden touches and excuses to stay close, fooling themselves that what they did was nothing more than curiosity and self-satisfaction. It was a fun game for them, and a somewhat comfortable one.
But they would never learn how it felt to have more than that.
Instead, Yusuke found himself holding Ryuji’s hand, leaning against the diner’s narrow corridor wall as they watched a sudden storm strike down right when they were about to leave.
They still agreed on keeping their exchanges a secret from others to avoid unnecessary attention, but when a cold wind blew into the corridor, the idea of being discreet escaped their minds. The athlete instinctively jumped in front of him, using his free arm to block the rain. Drops of water ran down Ryuji’s trembling chin as he laughed and looked up at his boyfriend to close the distance, humming.
“Not the ideal first date, huh?”
*
Their seventh kiss was a step forward.
They hadn’t been alone like that since the diner, and the safety of Ryuji’s home gave them the freedom to experiment to their heart's content. It was just a matter of time until little teases and caresses became more intimate.
They took it slow, letting lips meet again, relaxing as their touches became more familiar, and tasting the flavor of the beverages they both had just minutes ago. Warm tea coated lips brushed softly against cool coke coated ones, pecking them a few times while Yusuke’s slender fingers stroked the blond’s face, and then slipped behind his head to pull him closer and kiss him even deeper.
Soon, lips weren’t enough, and they pulled each other into embraces and new stirring touches. Naughty hands slid down their bodies, exploring the other’s skin and tracing muscles, provoking gasps and more kisses. Noses and teeth got in the way, and the teens laughed when it happened. But they kept going, and they got better.
Their kiss couldn’t go on forever though. At some point, both had to pull back to catch their breath. It was only then that Ryuji realized the current situation: He was lying on the couch, with Yusuke straddling on his lap. The mangas they were reading before were scattered on the floor, the sketchbook that was carefully placed on the couch’s arm got kicked away…
and he heard his mother arriving home.
*
“Ah! Sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.” Haru squeaked when she caught their twelfth kiss.
Maybe they really should stop trying their luck, now that the group got bigger.
Just maybe.
At least she kept it secret from the rest.
As if the others had never noticed it.
*
Their twenty-sixth kiss was a lull.
Yusuke sensed distress in his partner. He was even louder than usual. He tapped his foot and shrugged more often, he leaned against his chair so much he almost fell down twice, he read the same manga page three times over before proceeding, he made up excuses to just touch his boyfriend even more even if his hands were sweating cold.
He kissed Ryuji to shut him up, caressing his cheek to calm him down, and held his hand to give him some reassurance. It took a while to feel the torment inside the other slowly subside, his tense lips finally relaxing and his face tilting against Yusuke’s soft palm. When their lips parted, he gently leaned on the shorter’s forehead to confess one thing.
“I’m scared as well.”
*
Their thirty-seventh kiss was eager.
Tomorrow was the big day. Their target had been called out publicly, thus there was no turning back - not that they’d ever do it. However, as much as they prepared for it, no confidence could calm down their anxiety.
They could feel it in every touch, how rough hands quivered, grabbing the other fiercely to steady them, how Yusuke wrapped tight his arms and legs around the toned body, seeking safety, how Ryuji swore more often and louder under his breath, and how he instantly relaxed after humming his lover’s name.
The smell of the rainy breeze mixed with their steamy puffs, and the drops hitting the window didn’t match the sound of hearts drumming in their chests. Desirous lips smacked ferociously, getting side tracked to trail smooches across the jaw and neck to recover some air.
Their presence gave them some peace of mind, but restlessness only became stronger.
At some point, Yusuke broke the kiss again for another breath, and took this moment to gaze at Ryuji, admiring the way the dim light from the city illuminated his partner - he wanted to memorize everything, his short messy hair, the glossy brown eyes, the red spots on his neck down to collarbone, his flushed smile, and how his lips moved to form the phrase the artist heard for the first time.
“I love you, Yusuke.”
*
Their thirty-ninth kiss tasted like salt and fear.
Yusuke could feel his teammates around, shouting worried and powerless. One voice called out Ryuji’s stupidity and recklessness. A quiet mumble regretted the decision of going this far, another yelled in frustration, blaming and cursing their target, while someone else called an emergency. He also could feel a hand stroking his back, an attempt to soothe his mind, in vain.
The painter couldn’t focus on anything except his lover’s unconscious body.
Faltering arms enveloped and carefully pulled Ryuji closer, nesting the blond head on his chest, and hoping for this to be just some cognition or a bad taste prank. He pecked his forehead, cheeks, lips, ear, whispered comfort, love words, asking to wake up and not abandon him, that they all needed him, anything to get some reaction.
But there was nothing.
*
On the following days, their kisses tasted like paper and memories.
*
The last kiss was followed by a goodbye.
It was a simple, fast, but tender touch, enough to recall all the sensations that it brought back. The taste of his skin, the breath against his cheek, the smacking sound of their lips parting, the soft squeeze in his hand, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach…
Yusuke missed it. He missed it so much, he missed him too much. The thought of losing someone again was too dreadful, and no one could guess the kind of damage his mind had suffered, or if it left any brain damage.
But Ryuji was here, looking up with the most loving gaze and his always cheerful smile. A vision the painter wished to witness forever.
“See you tomorrow, babe.”
And for now, that was all that mattered.
*
*
*
“Is this for me…?” Ryuji held his present with a care, something that was rare coming from him.
“Yes. I want you to have it.” Yusuke explained, gently. “It’s not much. Most of them are quick sketches, but I drew them thinking of you.”
“What do you mean ‘not much’!? You filled the whole notebook!!”
“Not entirely. I ripped out the pages I was unsatisfied with.”
“Oh, so there was MORE!?”
The punk flushed as he leafed through the sketchbook, noticing that all of them were indeed scribbled. He could see himself clearly in some pages, smiling, posing or fighting, and recognize places they’d visited together before. Leblanc, the Diner, Okiburo, his house, even Mementos appeared a couple of times. A few of them depicted only hands touching in different ways, others depicted… things, like a curious sketch of a cup of tea and a glass of coke.
As much as he loved Yusuke, understanding his artistic views was a challenge. Still, even in the most confusing sketches, he could sense some familiarity, as if they were tickling his memories and making him giggle. Perhaps it was just the fact the artist mentioned before that those sketches were all done thinking of him.
Another page made him stop and burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha!!! What!? Damn! Is this Haru!? Why is she here!? Did she see it!?”
“Yes, she did.” The companion chuckled, amused by his reaction. “I drew this on the day she caught us. You could say it’s a small token of appreciation for not calling us out.”
“Hahaha! Yeah, true. That’s a good one, thou-” a sudden realization crossed his mind. “Wait a minute. These sketches… did you draw all of these since we started dating…?”
“I believe even before that.” Yusuke rubbed his shoulder, averting his eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you since our first incident in Mementos. It was bothersome.” He didn’t hear his boyfriend wowing, offended. “So I began to draw it to relieve my mind, and I found myself enjoying picturing you. You have an energy and passion that I wanted to replicate in my art, and a distinct beauty that is… hard to see at first glance. But once I opened my eyes and accepted it, I was captivated. In no time, I had fallen for you.”
The bedridden lost his words, cheeks flushing even redder than before, and soon he was laughing again. They had been dating for just a few months, but the way the painter’s thoughts were spoken was so charming and honest that it always struck him by surprise.
Ryuji flipped back to the first page again, this time, imagining a flustered Yusuke sketching it, probably fighting against his own heart rather than the shadows, and creating that chaotic first piece. Yes, that was definitely Mementos. Is that a skull silhouette?
“T-That’s effin’ cheesy, man!”
“You don’t like it…?”
“I loved it!! Hahahahahahaha!!”
In a certain way, the troublemaker related with those feelings. He remembered how disturbing those nights after the Mementos incident were, when his dreams only recalled that kiss and reimagined how it could be if they kept going. The more he tried to avoid thinking about it, the worse his dreams became. Little did his past self know how far they would go, and how happy they were because of it.
His laugh slowly fades, and brown eyes rest on his lover again, contemplating the present. His body didn’t have a notion of how long he slept, but it felt like an eternity.
“You know… Thanks…” the blond offered his hand to Yusuke, who gently took it so he could place a kiss on his knuckles. “Anyway, I’m guessin’ you got a fresh new sketchbook, now that you’re givin’ me this?”
“You guessed right. I just bought it before coming here.”
Ryuji brushed Yusuke's hair back behind his ear, hands caressing his face on their way down his cheek. A cheeky grin was drawn on his pale, pink lips.
“So… Do you wanna start fillin’ it in now?”
#persona 5#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa#ryukita#ryukitaweek2019#p5#persona#fanart#fanfic#warning: super cheesy bullshit fhodsifhos#also it has been months and i still piss myself on 'is a step forward' fjgsids#ok now that im on tags and only the chosen ones will actually read them#I. AM. RLY. NOT. USED. ON. WRITING. SO I RLY RLY RLY HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT BC I HAVE ZERO CONFIDENCE FDOGJDO#i prefer making comics than fics bc im terrible doing descriptions#so i prefer drawing them than all the effort of writing lmao#the reason this one became a fic is exactly bc i had this idea that i couldn't just translate into a comic#it's not one well constructed scene but a bunch of not detailed ones in a timeline that crossed my mind
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bottom of the Ninth, Two Outs, Full Count
Part Two of Opening Day, Starting Pitch, which is a prologue for Love, Baseball, and Other Things (Part One // Part Two)
Also on AO3
WARNINGS: This story contains both Millian and abusive Swanfire. Sorry if that's not your cup of tea, but this is a prologue, and I'm obsessed with traumatic backstory. This also contains death of a character, grief, alcoholism, verbal and physical abuse, and abandonment. It starts exactly where part one left off.
Thanks again to @welllpthisishappening and @profdanglaisstuff for prompting this story into existence, @ultraluckycatnd for reading over it, and @kmomof4 for flailing so much over this little verse that has become the only thing I can think about. If you'd like to be tagged for future installations, let me know!
(also, sorry there's no cut, I'm on mobile and apparently Tumblr hates me anyway.)
-----
By the time Milah’s birthday rolls around in the middle of April, he has the ring tucked inside a box of letters from his brother and a reservation for the night she turns 26 at her favorite restaurant across town. He even bought them a night at the quaint little hotel next to Washington Square, so they don’t have to trek back across the river to get home that night. And he has the whole thing planned out: dinner, then a show at the Walnut Street Theatre before taking her dancing and taking her back to the hotel through Independence Square, finally lit up for spring, where he’ll stop and ask her to marry him. It’s a perfect plan, really, and he realizes when he calls the restaurant two nights before to confirm the reservation that he has never been this excited for anything in his life.
His friends can tell, too. David is happy for him, planning to propose to his own girlfriend while they’re on their post-graduation vacation, and Emma pokes fun at him regularly about the smile that is always on his face.
So when two uniformed officers knock on the door to his apartment three days before Milah’s birthday and ask if he’s Killian Jones, emergency contact for Milah Smith , it takes all his strength not to lose the contents of his stomach all over their finely-polished shoes.
“Yes, I am,” he says, pulling himself together enough to talk to them, to make sure that he’s not overreacting. “Why, has something happened to her?”
The way their emotionless faces seem to fall at his question causes him to lose his balance, and he reaches out to hold on to the doorway before he falls at their feet.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Mr. Jones,” the one to his left says, and Killian doesn’t fail to see the irony behind the fact that his name is Marry . “I’m afraid Milah was involved in a car accident on the Ben Franklin Bridge this morning, and by the time the paramedics got to the scene, there was nothing they could do for her.”
“Oh, god,” he groans, his shoulder hitting hard against the doorway, the only thing keeping him standing. “No, no, no, no.”
“We’re terribly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he chokes out, starting to close the door before the men standing on the other side of him see him fall apart. But once the door closes, he loses the strength to stay on his own two feet, and he falls to his knees, his head resting on the cool wood of the apartment door.
In losing Milah, he lost everything. Three days from spending the rest of his life with her, and now he would have to live with the question of whether she would have said yes for the rest of his life.
Of course she would have said yes , he tries to convince himself, but it’s useless. He’s learned to never assume even the easiest of things, that’s how he’s survived everything that’s happened so far in his life. So that little voice in the back of his head keeps telling him over and over that there’s a chance she may have said no.
He has no idea how long he stays seated against the door. He does know that the sun has swung across the sky and begins to shine brightly through the front windows, and that by the time he pulls himself back onto his feet, his legs are numb.
He wishes the rest of him was just as numb.
So that’s exactly what he makes happen.
It started with one glass of whiskey, then turned into three, then six. By the time David and Emma come back from visiting their mother for the weekend, the sun has turned the sky a dark shade of crimson, and he is passed out on the couch, what remains of the last glass still in the cup his hand is wrapped around.
“Killian!” David yells, rushing across the living room to make sure he’s okay. He’s breathing, but refuses to budge, and once Emma finds the now-empty bottle of Jack on the counter, they figure out why.
“I hope he’s okay,” Emma comments, adding the bottle to the pile of recycling under the sink. “He usually doesn’t drink this much, and especially not whiskey.”
“Either something happened, or he just randomly decided he was in the mood for half a bottle of Tennessee whiskey.”
“Well, given that he usually refers to it as ‘number 7 swill,’ I doubt he decided just on a whim.”
David turns his eyes down to Killian, his whole face painted with worry, but there’s nothing they can do for him until he regains consciousness, so they leave him there, returning to the piles of papers they left spread across the kitchen table. They study in silence for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock over the stove driving Emma insane, so she speaks, her eyes flitting up to her brother for just a moment.
“I, uh, need to stay here again,” she says quietly, her eyes glued to the paper in her hands so they don’t have to reach what she knows is a worried glare from her brother.
“Neal again?”
“For fuck’s sake, David, don’t say it like that.”
“When are you going to leave his sorry ass for good?”
“I love him, David. I know you know this, and I know you understand. And he loves me, too, he just has some issues he needs to work out and everything will be just fine.”
“Everything is not just fine , Emma,” David growls, his back teeth grinding together angrily. “You think I don’t notice the marks he leaves on your arms? The fact that you’re always crying after you talk to him? You need to leave him, before he does something that he can’t just apologize for.”
“I can’t just leave him,” she says, her voice soft, and when she adds, “Not anymore,” he drops the textbook he was balancing on the edge of the table.
“What does that mean, Emma? Are you— did he—”
“I’m pregnant, alright?” she says bitterly, throwing the paper in her hands back down on the table so she can hold her head. “I’m almost three months pregnant, and I’m too afraid to tell him because I know when I do, he’ll just leave. Is that what you wanted to hear from me?”
“Christ, Emma,” he whispers, and as soon as he realize that her shoulders have started to shake with silent sobs, he pushes his chair back to walk across the table and wrap his arms around her. She turns in the seat, burying her head in his shoulder. “I can’t — I’m sorry.”
While they stay like this, David shedding a few tears for his sister, as well, Killian begins to slowly wake on the couch, head pounding and stomach churning, and when he slowly makes his way to the kitchen to find some water, he is surprised to find David and Emma, but when they see him, they begin to break away from each other.
Sitting down across the table from them, taking very careful sips out of his glass, he finally says, “I take it this means you heard about Milah.”
When they both seem to be more confused by this statement, he realizes he must have made an error.
“Is she alright?” David asks, and somehow Killian smiles instead of breaking down once more, but it only lasts for the quickest of moments.
“No, quite the opposite, actually. She was killed this morning in an accident on the Ben Franklin.”
“What a fucking day,” Emma says under her breath as David moves back across the table to pull his friend in for a hug.
Four days later, the day after Milah would have turned 26, they hold her funeral in one of the nicer churches in town. After asking Liam and David to wait outside, to give him a minute alone with her casket, there is nothing comparable to seeing her laying there, lifeless, surrounded by silk and flowers. Pulling the small velvet box out of his pocket, his hands grip the edge of the wood, the only balance he can find.
“I was — I was going to give this to you,” he chokes out, doing nothing to stop the stream of tears that fall down his face. “I still… I’ve been trying to decide whether I should give it to you, or keep it as a reminder of just how damned much I love you.” He reaches up to tuck his index finger under the buttoned collar of his shirt, pulling out the chain that holds his mother's ring. “But I think, now that I'm here and thinking about it, that I will keep this, both as a keepsake of you, of the years we spent together, and a reminder that my life has been torn apart one too many times from letting people into my heart.”
He holds the ring out in his palm, staring down at it for a moment before he closes his hand around it, feeling the edges of the diamonds cutting into his palm.
“I love you, my darling,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead, a sob fighting its way up his chest when he feels the coldness of her skin against his.
The pain overtakes him. He spends the next three days numbing himself, a dangerous combination of rum and whiskey and whatever else he can find in the apartment, only leaving the confines of his bedroom to find the next drink or relieve himself. On the fourth day, Emma, Neal, David, and Mary Margaret are sitting around the table in the kitchen, actively ignoring the subject of the grieving man who has locked himself away from the world.
Emma knows that David is worried about him — he’s told her that much at least a dozen times since Killian first told them of Milah’s death. The fact that her friend is struggling so much, so obviously, and no one is trying to reach out to him, though, just angers her.
So she decides she can’t take it anymore.
“Christ, enough of this,” she says, slamming her empty water glass down on the table. “That man in there needs help, and if I have to be the one to give it to him, then I will be.” She pushes her chair back, jumping to her feet, but before she can walk away, she feels Neal's hand wrap around her wrist.
“No.”
She whips her head around to face him. “Excuse me?”
“The darkness that took over Neal's face lightens, but his grip on her wrist does not. “He'll be fine, just give him time. Stay here.”
“What? No, he's — he's not okay, Neal. And on the off-chance that he is, he can be the one to tell me that, not you.”
Even if David wasn't watching his every movement intently, he would have noticed how hard Neal pulled on Emma's arm to get her to step back to the table.
“I'm not gonna tell you again, Ems,” he growls, his fingers beginning to leave marks on Emma's wrist. “I don't want you to go in there.”
“Good thing that's not your decision to make,” David says, his whole body tense, but when Neal snaps his head to face him and he sees some of the tension leave Emma's shoulders, he knows it was the right moment to step in.
“Well, it certainly isn't yours.”
“That is my sister that you have your hand around, if you'll remember.”
“David, please,” Emma says softly, and Neal smiles up at her, though that smile scares her more than anything else.
“Yes, David, please,” Neal repeats, the wicked smile still spread across his face when he turns back to him. “Emma knows how this works, and she knows what happens if she doesn't listen to me.”
“You son of a bitch!” David yells, jumping out of his seat angrily enough that it clatters to the floor behind him.
“David!” both Emma and Mary Margaret yell, but he's already halfway around the table, his hand flying out to grab the front of Neal's shirt.
Neal still hasn't let go of Emma's wrist.
“You're going to take your hands of my sister and never, ever touch her again, do you hear me?”
Neal is still smiling.
“And what, exactly, are you going to do to me if I don't?”
David pulls him out of his seat using the front of his shirt. His hand around Emma's wrist tightens further.
“See, that depends on just how angry you make me, because right now, I want to rip your fucking throat out.”
Mary Margaret has turned so white in her seat that Emma fears she may pass out — but she seems to be the only one that's noticed.
“Can I — can I ask you something, Nolan?” Neal asks, his voice free of any of the fear David was hoping to instill, but Emma feels the way his hand trembles. “Why the Knight in shining armor act all of the sudden? This can't be the first you've learned about me — “
“David, please ,” Emma begs, but David either fails to hear her or chooses to ignore her, taking the bait he's laying in front of him.
“She's pregnant, you bastard,” David practically yells, the secret that he's been trying so hard to keep, not even sharing it with Mary Margaret. “She's carrying your child and you're too goddamned selfish to care about it one bit.”
“David,” Emma whispers, and she is finally able to pull her hand out of Neal's grasp, that's suddenly loosened.
“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret says at the same time, her big brown eyes full of both excitement and sadness.
Neal turns slowly to Emma, who has covered her face to hide the tears that have started falling, and David finally releases his fist from his shirt. “Is he — is he serious, Ems?” He has the nerve to soften his voice so much, to suddenly take all of the anger it's always full of away, and it just hurts her all the more. She's so afraid of his anger, his temper, his fear of commitment, but he's —
She nods, a glimmer of hope lightening the pounding in her chest. Opening her eyes, she darts to look at him, and she can tell that he is thinking over something.
And then he shakes his head, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from the table. “I’m not — I can’t —” he sputters, but his coherency is gone. “I’m sorry.”
The three of them watch, stunned, as Neal grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and walks out of the apartment.
Everything is silent. Still. David and Mary Margaret are too afraid to move, knowing that as soon as they do, everything will crumble.
Emma will crumble.
But instead of either of them breaking the silence, disrupting the stillness, it comes instead from a bright-eyed and uniformed Killian Jones coming from his bedroom. The three of them dare to move enough to turn their attentions towards him, and when he finally senses the tension that has filled the apartment, added only by his escape from his bedroom, he raises his eyebrows in question.
“Where are you going?” David asks the question they’re all thinking.
Emma asks the other: “Are you okay?”
He pushes the front of his hair back to slide his baseball cap over it. “I, uh, have a game. I can’t wallow in grief forever, so I’ve decided instead to focus on my pitching game. It’s what…” his voice drops off, his eyes falling to the floor as his hand reaches up to grasp the same chain that always hangs around his neck, which they all see holds another ring beside his mother's. “It's what she would have wanted.”
The engagement ring , Emma realizes. It's what Milah would have wanted.
For a moment, Emma is inspired. Sure, it took him four days to get there, but he's pulled himself back together after losing Milah — and really losing her, not just having her walk out like she knew Neal was going to do. He's turning the energy he's been using to destroy himself back into something more productive.
She can do that, too.
Grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, she slings it over her shoulder and follows Killian out towards the living room.
“I'm going with him.”
“What?” Mary Margaret asks, at the same time David says, “Stay here, we can talk about it.”
She turns to Killian, his bright eyes lighting up the shadow the brim of his hat lays across his face, and shakes her head, turning back to David.
“I don't want to talk about it. It's over. He did exactly what I expected, so there's nothing to even talk about.”
“Emma—” David starts, but she walks out of the kitchen, leaving the three of them bewildered.
“No,” she calls through the doorway. “I'm leaving.”
“Yeah, uh, me too,” Killian says, a million questions on his lips, as he follows her out of the apartment.
Their walk down the steps and out to the street is silent, and it continues that way for a few blocks, Emma's hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket and Killian's fidgeting with the strap of his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
He has almost decided on how to ask the question lingering on the tip of his tongue when she speaks instead.
“I'm really proud of you, d'you know that?”
He turns to her, but her eyes are still set on the sidewalk at her feet.
“Come again?”
“Your whole world crumbles down around you, and you took a few days to grieve before you pull yourself back up and focus on something productive.”
“Thanks?” he asks, her words igniting a warmth in his heart that he wasn't sure he would ever feel again. “I watched my father drink himself half to death after my ma passed, and when I looked in the mirror last night, I realized I was doing the same thing. The only thing I ever wanted in life was to not end up like my father, and I saw myself doing just that.” He tugs at the chain around his neck, threading his pinky through the ring that has just been added. “And that's not what Milah would want. She always told me to — to stick with the things I enjoy the most, and I realized the reason I stopped focusing on my pitching game was in hopes of finding a career to sustain us. Now that I… now that I no longer need that, I can go back to doing what I love without the fear that it's going to be enough.”
Emma has no response to this, so they walk in silence again for a few more moments.
“Neal's gone.”
Killian breathes out a small chuckle, though once it's out, he can't figure out why. “How long do you think it will be this time until he comes running back?”
Emma flattens her hands against her stomach, but since her hands are in her pockets, Killian doesn't see it. “He's not coming back this time.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Well, for one, David threatened him. I believe the exact promise was to 'rip his fucking throat out,’ and I wouldn't put it past him to follow through on that.” They both allow themselves to laugh at this, a small release of some of the tension built around them after all that's happened in the past few days.
“And for two?” Killian asks, and when he sees Emma turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye, he returns her gaze.
“He’s too afraid of commitment to stick around and become a father.”
She watches as Killian's eyes grow wide before turning down to her stomach, a smile growing across his face.
“You're pregnant?”
He's relieved so see her begin to smile, too, as she nods her head. Stopping them on the sidewalk, he wraps her in a hug — and she realizes just how excited she really is, even if Neal is no longer in the picture.
Maybe it's even better this way.
“And you know you're not alone, right? You have David and Mary Margaret to help you, and me.” He leans back, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders, and when he smiles at her again, she believes for the first time since she saw that positive sign that everything might actually be okay.
#baseball verse#bottom of the ninth#love baseball and other things#cs fics#my fics#my writing#wordsbymeganmichael#ouat ff#millian#anti sf#anti neal#anti swanfire#tw: character death#tw: assault#tw: death#tw: violence#tw: negativity#tw: alcoholism#tw: verbal abuse#tw: physical abuse
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Nanny (Daddy Harry)
“Seriously, Y/N, I think you’d be stupid not to give this job a chance.”
Phone tucked between your shoulder and ear, you rolled your eyes as you continued chopping carrots for your dinner.
“I don’t know, Melissa. Child care? It’s so far from anything I’ve ever done before.”
“That’s why I think this will be perfect for you,” your cousin said earnestly. “Maybe it’s what you need; a little change of scenery. Take the company downsizing as a sign.”
You bit your lip. “I guess,” you said unenthusiastically.
“Y/N, I can hear it in your voice, you’re not convinced. But you’ve always been looking for an adventure. You’ve been stuck in a rut lately and you know it.”
You didn’t even bother to argue—she was right. You heard her shuffling in the background.
“My dad’s friend works with the man who needs the nanny. He’s a single dad with a young girl. How bad could it be?”
You leaned against the countertop, abandoning your cooking for a moment. This really was an opportunity.
“Fine. Send me the details.”
…
You emailed the address Melissa texted you and got an almost-immediate reply. He was interested in interviewing you, and wanted you to come in. You spent the next half hour Google mapping the interview location. It was a music studio? How odd. Maybe he worked there and wanted to interview you during his work time.
You arrived at the interview a few minutes early. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your white t-shirt and straightened out your denim skirt. You walked through the large double doors of the studio and were met with a dark-skinned woman behind the desk.
“May I help you today?” she asked sweetly.
“I’m here for an interview with Scott Ryan. About the nanny position.”
“Ah. Right this way, Ms. He’s right here.”
With a kind smile, she gestured for you to enter a room that had the door propped slightly open.
“Mr. Ryan, this young lady is here for an interview.”
“Wonderful, thank you Andrea.”
Mr. Ryan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Please, take a seat right here. I promise we won’t be too long.”
You sat down and clumsily adjusted yourself. The nerves were starting to show.
“So, Y/N, what makes you want to be a nanny? I read the resume you sent. It doesn’t look like you have a lot of experience.” He looked at you beneath his glasses.
You gave a small shrug. “I don’t, but do I need it, exactly? I mean, wouldn’t I just be taking care of one child? Darcy, you said her name was? Someone can have all the experience in the world, but if they don’t connect with that one kid, it won’t matter. I, too, read what you sent me. Darcy seems shy, inhibited. I was like that, in fact, I still am. I think I can connect with her.”
Scott looked at you with a pleased smile. “Okay, that’s that. I only have one more question for you.”
He noticed your look of shock.
“Like I said, I keep these interviews short.”
You nodded.
“Y/N, who is your celebrity crush?”
Your eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
“Who is your celebrity crush?” he repeated.
You thought for a moment.
“Oh goodness, I have no idea. I haven’t had one of those since the ninth grade. I guess the only crush I have now is on my boyfriend,” you answered sheepishly.
Scott nodded enthusiastically, like he was on to something.
“Okay, I lied. I have one last question. Do you know who Darcy’s father is?”
“Um, yes. You?” you answered nervously. Was this a joke?
Scott Ryan stood up and headed for his door quickly. “Come with me please, Y/N. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Slightly confused, you kept up with Scott’s fast pace as he led you down a long hallway. He winked at you before he opened a door. Your eyes took in a recording studio. You had never been in one, but you knew immediately what is was.
There were several people in the room, all men, but your attention was drawn to one in particular. He was leaning back in a swivel chair, feet perched on a stool in front of him. His black jeans were tight and his white button up shirt was comfortably loose. His curly brown hair curled beautifully over his ears. You recognized the man.
“Harry,” Scott began.
Holy shit. It was Harry Styles.
“Mmm?” he said, looking up, appearing stressed.
“I think I found you your nanny,” Scott smiled.
That was when Harry noticed your presence in the room. His eyes widened as he took you in. From your practically makeup free face, ponytail, and white sneakers, you felt his eyes roam. Heat flared in the pit of your stomach.
“Yeah?” Harry asked rhetorically. “What’s your name?” he directed at you.
You felt your face flush. “Y/N Y/L/N,” you answered nervously.
Harry nodded and looked back at Scott. “She’s really young,” he said disapprovingly.
Scott sighed. “She answered all your questions flawlessly. Come on Harry, we’re trying to get you back on tour, Darcy needs someone.”
Harry leaned further back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. “I know that! Y/N, Scott will send you my details. Please be at my place tomorrow at 4. Consider yourself hired.”
…
You were texting your boyfriend Andrew as you took the elevator up to Harry’s floor. He lived in the penthouse of a luxury condominium downtown. Andrew knew how nervous you were, and was trying to calm your nerves. Things had been sort of rocky between the two of you lately, so you were glad he was being supportive.
You knocked on the door of 174, Harry’s apartment and waited for an answer. Within seconds, Harry opened it.
Holy Toledo.
You didn’t follow the tabloids or gossip sites, but you knew enough that Harry Styles was in his mid-thirties now. And unlike most men, he only seemed to be getting better with age. His shoulders were broader, his eyes were kinder, and his face was always covered in a shadow of facial hair.
He was wearing an outfit similar to the one you saw yesterday, and you pretty much just stared at him.
“Y/N, come in,” he said cheerily.
Already, you could tell he was in a much better mood than he was in yesterday. Clearly, there was work stress.
“Hi, Mr. Styles,” you said shyly.
“Oh, call me Harry. Or boss,” he winked.
Jesus.
“Daddy, is this her?” a little girl said quietly.
“Yes, Darcy, this is Y/N. She’s really nice,” Harry told his daughter.
“Hi, Darcy,” you said, stepping inside.
She was situated by the corner, safely away from the door.
“I’m so excited to be spending some time with you,” you said, leaning down to her eye level.
Despite her shyness, she met your gaze steadily.
“I brought you something.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a stuffed animal. “It’s a teddy bear. His name is Mr. Patches. I had one just like him when I was your age.”
Darcy appraised the teddy and reached out for him. As soon as he was in her arms, she pulled it in for a hug. “Thank you, Y/N. I love Mr. Patches. I’d like to show you my bedroom now, if you’d like to follow me.”
Darcy turned on her heels and you followed her, giving Harry a quick glance. His lips were slightly parted in awe.
…
Three hours later, Harry gently knocked on the door and called the two of you for dinner. You were wearing a boa and princess crown, having a tea party with Darcy. He failed to hide his smirk.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Darcy continued to talk like an adult and Harry made small talk with her. You mainly just observed.
Shortly after dinner, Harry tucked Darcy in to bed. When you were playing with Darcy earlier, he must have brought your suitcase to your new bedroom. One of the perks of this job: you were going to live with them.
“Your stuff is in your room,” Harry explained needlessly as he closed the door to Darcy’s room.
“Yeah, thanks,” you said quietly.
“Look, Y/N,” Harry continued. “I didn’t mean to be so rude yesterday. Finding a nanny has been literal hell. Honestly…”
“I understand,” you smiled.
More people were probably more interested in Harry than Darcy.
“Well then goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
…
It had been three weeks, and things were going very well. You and Darcy had taken a liking to each other and your friendship was growing. Harry didn’t tend to be home very often, but he was a loving and attentive father when he was. He was also incredibly hot.
So far, all of your dinners had been ordered in. Tonight, you wanted to cook and treat Harry and Darcy to a roast chicken.
But his oven was so damn fancy. You used as much common sense as you had to figure out how it worked. You didn’t want to ask Harry in fear of not looking competent.
You were flipping through a magazine on the kitchen counter when you began to smell something burn. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Harry enter the room.
“Something smells…” he began.
Just as he was speaking, you opened the oven and a flame angrily escaped.
“Careful!” Harry roared.
Within seconds, one hand was wrapped around your waist as he pulled you away from the oven. Then he slammed the oven shut.
His body was pressing yours against the island and your heavy breaths were rising and falling rapidly. Lips parted, Harry was staring heavily into your eyes. Everywhere his hands were was tingly.
“Daddy, is the chicken almost done?” Darcy asked, holding Mr. Patches.
“Um…actually,” Harry said, still looking at you, “we’re going to order pizza.”
…
“Would you like a glass?” Harry asked as he poured himself a second glass of red wine.
Darcy had just been put to sleep and the apartment had a dark, cozy, calm. Despite being the pent house and immaculate, it was relatively small. Harry had said he wanted a place that no matter where he was inside of it, he would still feel close to Darcy.
“Yes, please,” you answered. You weren’t much of a drinker but after the dinner disaster, you needed one.
Harry’s eyes were twinkling as he poured it and already seemed tipsy.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking a sip.
“You know, Y/N, Darcy really loves having you here. She’s never taken a liking to someone before. And the same goes for me.”
You hid your blush as you took another sip. “Well, I like being here.”
Harry smiled and turn on the TV. There were some reruns of the Most Extreme Elimination Challenge on, and you and Harry were laughing so hard tears were forming in your eyes. Sometime during the show, the two of you had scooted closer to each other. Suddenly, you were practically on his lap.
It was now past midnight, and you were feeling giddy and light.
You were saying something and Harry was turned toward you, listening. Then you noticed his eyes travel to the corner of your mouth.
“What?” you asked.
His thumb pressed onto your lip. “You have a drop of wine there,” he said, eyelids heavy.
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips softly into yours.
And then they were gone.
“I am so sorry,” Harry exclaimed, backing away from you immediately. “That never should have happened. It was so inappropriate and I didn’t mean to do it!”
Well that stung. Kissing you was a mistake.
“It’s fine,” you said curtly, leaving him alone.
…
The next night Andrew was over. Darcy was going to her aunt’s house and Harry had to be at the studio late. So it was just you.
The two of you weren’t doing much talking. Andrew just wanted to make out, evidently. His hands kept groping your body despite your protests. His tongue was halfway down your throat when Harry entered.
“Excuse me?” He said, voice sounding seriously ticked off.
“Harry…” you began.
“You can leave right now, young man,” Harry said.
Immediately Andrew got up and left.
Your eyes narrowed at Harry. “You didn’t have to embarrass my boyfriend like that.”
Harry walked to the kitchen. “This isn’t part of the arrangement, Y/N. You keep that boy and his wandering hands out of here!”
“Oh, only you are allowed you to kiss me?”
He froze.
“I told you, that was a mistake.”
“Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear. Maybe this entire thing was.” You felt like crying.
“Y/N…” Harry began tenderly.
“Goodnight Mr. Styles.”
…
Harry found you on the couch the next night, sad and alone. The cushions dipped as he sat beside you.
“Y/N, I’ve been as ass, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so hard about you and Andrew. Just seeing him…I just got, jealous.”
You shook your head sadly. “You don’t have to worry about Andrew anymore. We broke up this afternoon.”
“Really?” Harry asked.
You nodded.
“Good.”
Before you could form a coherent thought, Harry’s hands grabbed your face and he pressed his lips into yours for the second time.
Thanks so much for reading! x
#harry styles#harry#hs#harry styles writing#daddy harry#harry styles one shots#harry styles imagines#harry writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#one direction one shots#one direction imagines#harry one shots#harry imagines
260 notes
·
View notes
Text
Our last winter, 29/31
► Our last winter - Human!Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler.
► Written for @doctorroseprompts 31 days of ficmas. Day 29: Fire.
► AU Verse, Teen.
► 1,574 words.
► A/N: This is a prequelle to Ghost of you.
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.” - Edith Sitwell.
They were all gathered in the living room again. They were sat around the table but no one was saying a thing. They were still shocked about what they had witnessed in the streets. No one could ever forget such an event. It had completely dispersed the good mood the celebration of Christmas had settled down. They had just gone back to Maxence and Rose’s flat and sat down around the table. They hadn’t even taken off their coats. They were cold, but it wasn’t because of the weather anymore: they were cold inside. Fear was having this effect on them. You would have thought that Tegan would have been the first one to break down after such a shock but he was being the strongest of them all, sat there, his arms folded on his chest, his face sullen. It was giving a seriousness Maxence wasn’t used to see on his face.
Clara and Liv were cuddling into each other. Were they doing this as friends or as lovers, it was a question that didn’t have any answer. The women were very vague on their relationship and they were having fun on this fuzziness. Maxence didn’t mind. It was their personal life. They were doing what they wanted. All his attention was on Rose. Since they were back home, she had been sitting by his side and her head was hidden in his neck. Her face was paler than usual. He had his arms around her and was rubbing her back slowly. His mind was thinking about this man again. If Rose hadn’t dragged him away, what would this man have done to him? He couldn’t help but be curious. He would love working on this case and finding out what was the cause of these symptoms that hadn’t been alerting anyone so far.
He wondered why no one was working seriously on this case. Just by what he had seen, he knew that this was far more than a bad reaction to an abnormally long eclipse. If he had been part of the sanitary authorities, he would have asked someone to list all the sick people and he would have built a team to start researches on this new illness. But maybe that was just his curiosity.
“I’m working on this case,” admitted Tegan. “The effects of the eclipse on the human brain. Harvey asked me to yesterday. I had scans but I had no idea what to expect until now.”
“I’ve seen many things during the war but this…”
Maxence raised his head. Jack was never speaking about the war and what he had seen and done on the battlefield. The fact that he was mentioning it here and now meant that the former soldier who had gone through the most terrible things was sincerely shaken. Everyone was certain that the next world war would be a nuclear one… but what if it was actually a bacteriological one? A dirtier and slower way of fighting. More dangerous too. Who could survive to a deadly virus unleashed in the nature?
“Whatever it is, we’re not letting any of you come home tonight.”
Rose approved this decision. She too thought that it would be a bad idea to let their friends go home knowing what was wandering in the streets. The flat was small and there wouldn’t be enough beds for everyone but they would have to do with what they had. She raised her head and Maxence softly kissed her temple.
“I’m gonna make some tea.”
“We’ll need something stronger than tea.”
“I’ll add rum.”
“That should do.”
Rose’s voice was shaking but no one was making a comment since they weren’t feeling any better. Both Clara and Liv knew that their voices would be trembling just as much if they were speaking. That was why they were keeping silent. Rose left the living room for the kitchen and they heard her filling the kettle and putting it on the heating plate. Maxence got up and opened a cupboard in the living room. He pulled out a bottle of strong whiskey and a few glasses. He put the glasses on the table and poured some whiskey in them. No one hesitated in taking one.
“What should we do?”
“I’ll try to reach Harvey tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you on holidays?”
“I think holidays are dispensable when something so big hits the country.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Liv drank her glass down in one. She kept her glass between her hands to stop them from trembling. She was a mess of anxiety and the simple sound of dishes breaking in the kitchen made her jump and hide in Clara’s arms. Maxence was in the kitchen as soon as he heard the noise. Rose was knelt down, watching the pieces of a mug that had slipped from her hands. He knelt down beside her.
“I’m scared.”
“I am too.”
It was rare to hear Maxence admit that he was scared but rose knew he wasn’t lying. She had seen him tonight. All fascinated that he was, the terror was filling him. He had sensed the danger long before them all and that’s how he had managed to keep them safe. What would have happened if he hadn’t been there?
“You saved me again.”
“And you returned the favour.”
He picked the bits of empty mugs and threw them in the bin. He finally got rid of his coat and helped his wife up. He trapped her in a tight embrace. They both needed the comfort. He took her coat off and lined up the mugs on the counter. The kettle whistled and he poured the water in the mugs. Rose pulled out the rum and tea and sugar.
“Do you think we can have a barbecue?”
“Not really the season.”
“No, but since we don’t have a chimney, I thought that we could grill some chestnuts on the barbecue.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. He just had to light a fire on the small barbecue they had on the balcony. It would be fun and nice. A good way to finish the evening on a better note. They brought the tea in the living room. Their friends had finally took off their coats. Maxence grabbed matches, torn papers and a lighter. He went on the balcony despite the cold and began lightning the fire. His breathing was forming smoke in the cold air. The first flame was a relief but it quickly went out. He groaned in frustration.
“Come on,” he mumbled. “I know it’s cold but you can do this for me.”
“Do you think it will answer you?”
Rose was joking but Maxence still found her pale and shaken. She put the bowl of chestnuts down on their exterior table with paper cones. She wrapped her new scarf around his neck and tucked it under his sweatshirt so it wouldn’t bother him. He threw some more papers in the tank of the barbecue and lighted another match. A couple of small flames appeared and he blew on them to make them bigger and stronger. It took him a while before he managed to have a good fire before him. He put his hands before it to get warmer. Rose came and did the same thing. She found it relaxing to watch the flames dancing and listen to the fire crack. Maxence put the first round of chestnuts in.
“Fire can be so fascinating. One of the first big inventions of the mankind. One of the most useful.”
“And one of the most dangerous.”
“And yet, we still gather around it and welcome it like a friend.”
“We cannot fear the things we are supposedly controlling:”
“But no one can control fire. It’s just… it’s got a mind of its own, a power we ignore.”
Maxence didn’t know if she was still speaking about the fire or if she was comparing it to the human kind. Just like fire, humans could be friends or enemies. They could be controlled at times but most of the time, they were going off limits. They were destructive and almost unstoppable. Playing with the human kind could result in getting burnt.
Maxence pulled his wife closer to him and they observed the fire silently as the chestnuts were slowly being grilled. He took them off the fire one by one and placed them in a cone formed with newspapers. He was filling other cones when their friends came out. Rose hadn’t moved from his side.
“You’ve abandoned us so we’re joining the fun.”
“Maybe if we’re all stuck one to another, we’d get warmer.”
“I’d rather have my face grilled like a chestnut.”
Tegan’s sarcasm made them all laugh. Alcohol was doing him lots of good. He was more relaxed, more normal. He could freely reject Jack’s flirting and laugh about things that would leave him indifferent in normal times. Once again, Maxence thought that he really liked this version of the man.
“I’m making grilled chestnuts. Who wants some?”
He filled one last cone but didn’t let the fire die. He made sure that he kept burning so they wouldn’t be cold while they stood outside and shared the chestnuts. None of them went back on the event of the night. They preferred forget it for the moment. Just for a couple minutes, they all stood by the fire, eating grilled chestnuts and enjoying the rest of their night…
Our last winter © | 2018 | Tous droits réservés.
×××
Buy me a coffee?
#doctor who#doctorroseprompts#ninth doctor#human!nine#rose tyler#doctor x rose#prompt fulfilment#31 days of ficmas#day 29: fire#our last winter
1 note
·
View note
Text
Lost Episode: “Going in for the Kill”
Hello! In what is certainly a surprise twist for both you and me, I have returned to the People and Rhythm universe with what I am calling a “lost episode.” A “lost episode” is a full-length episode fic, written much in the same way as an episode in either season one or two of People and Rhythm, but it does not belong to either season, or (at this point) a new season of its own. It’s a stand-alone episode, longer than a deleted scene. This episodes doe contain characters introduced in season two of People and Rhythm, so it’s probably best be caught up before reading this.
All that being said, I am extremely happy to be revisiting the fic that changed my life in untold ways, and hope you enjoy reading this episode.
Time: Sometime after 2x13
Alastair Duquesne doesn’t spend much time thinking about New Orleans. In fact, if he were to estimate, he would guess that he spends exactly no time thinking of the city to which he once made yearly pilgrimages. Now that Klaus Mikaelson and his entire wretched family has resumed running through the sunken streets of the city, Alastair chooses not to dwell on the seething rage he feels over the Originals’ triumph. Once the little Mikaelson witch bitch freed her father from the wall and Alastair made his escape, he made the decision to move on, to live to fight another day.
That is, until he was forcibly reminded of his evil sire at a pub in the south of Wales. He’s meeting a friend for a pint before a night of ambling through the streets of Swansea, looking for a vein to tap. He’s distracted from his tankard by a conversation his vampire senses overhear from the back of the pub.
“…trip to New Orleans. City’s turned itself around.”
The voice belongs to an American, by the sounds of it, and Alastair shifts just slightly to focus better.
“That one chap still in charge?” the American’s friend asks. “What’s his name…Mark?”
“Marcel?” Alastair’s interest is certainly piqued now. “Only in charge of the vampires. No, get this: the city has a queen.”
The friend scoffs. “A queen? Of a city? You Americans don’t do things halfway, do you?”
“She’s just a kid, too, maybe eighteen? A Mikaelson, of course.”
“Yeah, I heard of her. What do they call her? The tribrid?”
Alastair freezes. The witch bitch.
“I guess. They say she’s doing an alright job. A little rocky at first, but things seems to be going okay. Wasn’t the all-out war that I remember from two decades ago, at least.”
“Bloody hell.” The friend takes a swig of his stout and sighs. “And after all that, Klaus Mikaelson gets everything he wanted. Aye, what a shame.”
“Yes,” Alastair breathes, bringing his own glass to his lips. “What a shame, indeed.”
“Will you hold still?”
Hope’s got a pair of scissors in her hand, hovering just above her father’s head. They stare at each other in a mirror, a silent stand-off.
“I don’t see why have to be your guinea pig,” Klaus whines. “Your uncle Elijah—”
“Wouldn’t let me near his hair with a ten-foot pole, and rightly so,” Hope snarks back. “His hair looks fantastic.”
Klaus’s jaw drops in offense, but before he can retort, a head pokes into the studio door. “Vincent’s downstairs.”
Hope sighs and drops the shears onto a table. “I thought the meeting was at eleven.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Hayley shrugs. “Looks like he wants to move it up an hour. You can torture your father later.”
Klaus leaps out of the chair, smoothing his curls down. “Yes, well, I suppose you’d best run along to your meeting, luv, don’t want to keep our regent waiting.”
Hope narrows her eyes. “I’m cutting your hair today, Dad. You’re not wriggling out of this one.”
Klaus merely smiles in triumph and gestures with one arm toward the door.
When Hope reaches the courtyard, she finds Vincent next to the fountain, toe tapping. When he sees her approaching, he takes a step forward. “You heard anything from the ancestors today?”
Hope quirks an eyebrow. “I hear from the ancestors every day, Vincent. That’s kind of the problem.” She jerks her head toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll brew some tea.”
Vincent follows her. As she puts the kettle on the stove, he asks, “Do you know of a Seer named Ivy?”
“Hm…doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She’s got a stall down in the Cauldron. Tourists love her, mostly because she’s the best damn tarot reader in all nine covens.”
A small smile spreads across Hope’s face. “Vincent…do you like this woman?”
That throws him for a loop. “Do I—can we focus please?” Hope shrugs. “She was doin’ a card read this morning and she got…” He trails off.
“She got what? C’mon Vincent, you know I’m not as well-versed in tarot as I should be.”
“Maybe you should study more.”
“Maybe you should lecture me later and tell me about Ivy’s reading now.” She leans against the counter, arms crossed.
“Fine. She got the Tower, the Emperor reversed, and…Judgment.”
Hope’s brow furrows as she racks her brain for the meanings of these cards. “I know the Tower. That’s a sudden upheaval.” Vincent nods. “I can’t remember the reversal of the Emperor card.”
“Tyranny,” Vincent supplies. “And Judgement?”
“Judgement is…” Realization dawns on her face as the kettle begins its shrill whistle. “A reckoning.”
Vincent’s face is impassive. “Now who’s a tyrant we know who may be overdue for a sudden reckoning?”
When Alastair Duquesne walks through the Cauldron, he wrinkles his nose at the overwhelming number of scents. Incense, sage, candles, homebrews—he’s assaulted by smells from all sides, and he’s reminded once again of why he hates cavorting with witches.
He can’t find the face he’s looking for, so eventually he gives up and taps on the shoulder of a stall girl whose last customer is walking away. “Excuse me.”
She turns, surprised. “What can I get you?”
“Do you know someone by the name of Theo LeRoy?”
Surprise blooms on her face. “Theo? You lookin’ for Theo?” He nods. “Sorry, but she’s been locked up for…oh, ‘bout a year now.”
Now it’s Alastair’s turn to look surprised. “Locked up? She’s in prison?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” The woman cocks her head to the side. “You look familiar. How do you know Theo?”
“We…had a mutual understanding last year. A common enemy, you might say. I was hoping to work with her again to defeat that enemy.”
The woman smirks. “I think I can help you out. I’m Leanne.” She sticks out her hand.
He takes it. “Alastair Duquesne.”
Klaus wanders through Jackson Square, hands in his pockets, silently observing the street artists around him—trumpeters, spray painters, breakdancers. He’s trying to keep himself occupied; he may refuse to admit it, even to himself, but without a war bubbling under the surface of New Orleans’s supernatural society, he finds himself with little to do. Since he promised his daughter he would refrain from causing unnecessary trouble, here he is, bored and restless.
He stops near a canvas, and the young woman with loose curls dabbing her brush against it. She’s painting the square, and its myriad colors and textures. He finds himself particularly impressed by her rendition of a guitarist a few dozen yards away, and the yellow dog curled up at his feet. After a few minutes of observation, he feels a presence beside him. “She’s good.”
Klaus’s eyes dart to the side. The woman looks vaguely familiar, and judging by the confident set of her shoulders, he’s going to guess she’s a witch. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Theo LeRoy’s,” she begins. “Leanne. You probably don’t remember me.”
Klaus’s head turns glacially to look at her. His smile is sardonic. “Sorry. I don’t remember unremarkable people.”
Leanne lets that go. “Theo would have made an excellent leader in New Orleans—you know, before your daughter stole the Advocacy from her.”
“From what I understood, your ancestors thought Theo LeRoy underqualified to play the role of Advocate, and selected my daughter instead. I hardly see how Hope is to blame for the whims of dead witches.”
With a little shrug, Leanne says, “Perhaps. Still, Hope is out here, ruling this city like a queen, while Theo rots in an abandoned motel prison, alone and powerless.”
Klaus rolls his eyes. “And why exactly are you whinging at me? I’m not going to ask my daughter to release Theo LeRoy; she tried to kill Hope, and even if she hadn’t, I don’t care.”
“I don’t need you to ask your daughter anything,” Leanne says. A ghost of a smile appears on her face. “I just need you to kill her.” And before Klaus can react, she snaps her fingers, and his head twists horribly to the side, neck instantly snapped.
Hope steps out of her car, phone pressed to her ear. “Okay, Riv, where exactly are you?” She listens, and then looks back at her car. “I don’t know, on the side of a street?” A pause. “Okay, not to sound like a bitch, but have you seen the suits Elijah wears? I don’t care about a parking ticket.”
She listens some more, and then says, “God, why is this campus so confusing? And why are there so many quads?” She looks around. “Okay, I think you’re just around the corner from here. I should be there in a few. Love you!” She hangs up.
She walks down Freret Street and spies a break between two buildings. “Shortcut!” she sings to herself, and ducks between the brick walls. Her steps echo on the concrete, but then she hears it: a second pair of footsteps. She turns, confused, and suddenly there’s a loud clanking sound, followed by a heavy weight around her wrists. She looks down, bewildered, to see a pair of rusty manacles clasped around her arms, and then looks back up. Stunned, she says, “Dominic?”
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” the witch from the Ninth says with a smirk. “Your Excellency is needed elsewhere.”
And then the world goes black.
Klaus thrashes against his chains to no avail. Whatever crypt he’s being held in is macabrely decorated, with a plethora of lit candles and jars full of untold substances. His breath is coming in angry huffs as a sharp creak alerts him to someone entering. “I’ll tear your limbs off,” he threatens Leanne before she’s even in view.
But she’s not alone. Klaus sets his jaw. “Alastair. Long time.”
“Not nearly long enough,” Alastair replies. “Though I did come to visit you, several times during your…down period. Pity we couldn’t speak. I heard you were a little…tied up.”
Klaus is unamused. “What are you doing in my city?”
Alastair takes a few long, casual strides about the crypt, glancing interestedly at the items on the walls. “Is it still your city, Klaus? From what I’ve heard, the great Klaus Mikaelson has been waylaid by his own teenaged daughter.” He turns his head to smirk at Klaus. “Not quite the formidable tyrant we once were, are we?”
Klaus bites the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t give Alastair the reaction he’s looking for. “I suggest you keep all mention of my daughter off of your despicable tongue, Alastair, lest you find yourself losing it.”
Alastair saunters closer and leans in so his face is inches from his sire’s. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what you are about to lose.” Klaus’s face becomes drawn, but he doesn’t respond. “Do you remember what you did to me?”
Jutting his chin out, Klaus responds, “Oh, it’s so hard to remember our wayward youths, isn’t it? You’ll have to remind me.”
“You turned me into a vampire and compelled to kill my wife and child,” Alastair snarls, all pretense of nonchalance gone. “You destroyed my life for a laugh.”
“Ah,” Klaus breathes. “Now I remember. She was pretty, your little wife. Shame you tore her to pieces like that.”
Alastair swallows thickly. “Well, shame you’re going to the same to your daughter.”
The blood vanishes from Klaus’s face. “I would never.”
“You won’t have a choice,” Leanne interjects, and Klaus’s eyes snap to hers, blazing. “You like that, don’t you? Taking people’s choices away?”
Klaus jerks at his chains, but they don’t budge. “If you touch a single hair on my daughter’s head—”
Leanne throws up her hands. “I don’t plan on doing a thing to Hope.” She reaches behind her back and pulls out a familiar object: a long, dark stake with dozens of tiny skulls carved into one end, their eye sockets gleaming blood red. “We’ll leave that up to you.”
You have reached the voicemail box of: Hope Mik—
“Ugh!” River groaned, hanging up again. She wanders up West, head swiveling as she looks for her girlfriend. “An hour late,” she grumbles to herself. “How lost can she be?”
She takes a left onto Freret, and just up the road she can see Hope’s car, a ticket tucked under the windshield wiper. “I told her so,” River mumbles, and she approaches the car. There’s no sign of Hope around. She turns to head back to the quad, but then catches a whiff of something familiar in the air. She follows the scent, and it leads her between two brick buildings. There’s nothing there, just a narrow alleyway that leads to an open area behind the buildings. She’s turning to head back to the car when something catches her eye. She bends down and picks up a familiar piece of jewelry: a necklace with the Mikaelson crest on it—a gift from Elijah for Hope’s last birthday.
In a flash, River’s phone is in her hand. “Hayley, you need to come to campus right now. I think…I think someone took Hope.”
The chains must be spelled, because Klaus is exerting every ounce of force he has in an attempt to break free. He hasn’t seen a cursed stake like this since one nearly killed his sister over fifteen years ago. “Where did you get that?” he growls.
Leanne strokes the stake almost sensually. “When the Strix left town all those years ago, they left some things behind. And the witches of New Orleans are not ones to pass up an opportunity like this.”
“So this is your plan?” Klaus turns back to Alastair. “Stake me with that, have me attack my own daughter? Is this your retribution for a crime committed centuries ago?”
“Well…yes,” Alastair says simply. “You forced me to murder my own child, and now I’m returning the favor.”
Klaus opens his mouth to retort, but he has no words to spit back in Alastair’s face. There is no posturing, no grandstanding that’s going to fix this. If they stake him with the Strix’s cursed stake, he’ll rapidly become the killing machine he used to pride himself on being. And if Hope were anywhere near him…
“Kill me,” he says, bravado evaporated. “Bring me to Marcel and let him bite me, but kill me and leave my daughter alone.”
“Fatherhood does that to you,” Alastair says softly. “Reframes everything, makes you never have to think twice about laying down your own life for your child’s. It’s chilling, isn’t it? How easily you’d die for her?” Klaus doesn’t answer, so Alastair continues, “Don’t worry. You won’t have too long to mourn what you’ve done. Once she’s dead, you’ll follow soon after.”
“He’s got her.” Both Klaus and Alastair look at Leanne, who in turn is looking at her phone. “She’s all tied up and waiting for her father to come tear her to shreds.”
Alastair’s answering smile sends a chill up Klaus’s spine.
“Anything?” Hayley asks, pacing a hole in the floor of the study.
Freya shakes her head, which is still bent over the map of New Orleans, Hayley’s blood puddled uselessly in the middle of the French Quarter. “They’re getting even better at cloaking her.”
River’s curled up on one of the couches, tucked in to Rebekah’s side. “This is my fault.”
“You hush,” Rebekah says, rubbing her hand up and down River’s arm comfortingly. “You didn’t take her.”
“I asked her to come meet me, I was the reason she was even there—”
Elijah strides into the room, tapping on his phone. “Niklaus still isn’t answering.”
“Do we think they’ve both been taken?” Rebekah asks.
Hayley makes a face. “It’s not easy to get the drop on Klaus.”
“Unless…” Everyone turns to look at Freya. “What’s the only thing that could lure Klaus into a trap?”
There’s a beat, then River says slowly, “So someone kidnapped Hope to get to Klaus?”
Hayley’s eyes slide shut. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
River jolts with a sudden memory. “Vincent.”
Confused, Freya says, “What about Vincent?”
“He came to see Hope this morning. He told her something…something big, I guess. She wanted to tell me about it when we met up, but obviously…”
“She never got the chance.” Elijah resumes scrolling through his phone, and taps on Vincent’s contact. He presses the device to his ear, and a moment later says, “We need you here. Now.”
When Hope comes to, she’s in a dimly lit room, with no windows and one heavy metal door. If she had to guess, she was somewhere in the catacombs of New Orleans, in one of the witches’ infinite hideouts. She can barely see her hand in front of her face, but judging by the horrible metal jangling she hears every time she moves, she’s still chained up by the cursed manacles that prevent her from doing magic. Groaning in frustration, she awkwardly pats her pockets in search of her cell phone, but it’s gone—not like she would get reception down there anyway.
She clumsily pushes herself to her feet, her body aching. She paces along the back wall of the room; it’s a small space, maybe ten feet or so wide. She starts to walk up one side wall, but then stumbles over something large on the ground—a body.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, and she kneels down to inspect the person on the ground. The lack of movement tells her that whoever it is, they’re unconscious—or worse. It’s so dark she can barely make out the shape, but when her fingers touch curls at the top of the person’s head—too long, in desperate need of a haircut—she chokes back a sob. “Dad?”
Klaus doesn’t respond.
Hope’s breath is coming quick and shallow, but when she recognizes the vague shape of something long and thin protruding from her father’s chest, she leaps on it, yanking the stake from his heart and tossing it to the side.
“Wake up,” she pleads, shaking his shoulders. “Please, Dad, wake up.”
When Vincent arrives, he’s not alone. Just behind him is a beautiful woman with large eyes and flowing dark hair. The pair steps into the empty courtyard. “Hello?” Vincent calls, voice echoing against the brick and stone.
“What did you tell her?”
Vincent and his guest twist their heads up to see Hayley on the balcony above, face taut. She leaps over the rail and lands in front of them, as easily as taking a step. “Someone took my daughter, and if has anything to do with what you told her this morning, I will kill you.”
Vincent runs a tired hand over his face. “Hayley, look—”
“What did you tell her?” There’s poison in Hayley’s voice. Suddenly Elijah is there, just behind her, to put a hand on her shoulder.
“He told her of my reading,” the woman offers. She steps forward. “My name is Ivy, and I’m a Seer. This morning I was doing a tarot reading, and what I saw…I told Vincent, and he warned Hope.”
Hayley opens her mouth hotly, but Elijah cuts across her. “Please tell us what you read, Ivy.” Hayley closes her mouth.
“The three cards were the Tower, the Emperor reversed, and Judgement.”
“So it is about Klaus.” Freya’s coming down the stairs, Rebekah and River right behind her. “Whoever took Hope did so to get to her father.”
Quietly, Elijah says, “Please explain, sister.”
But Freya nods to Ivy, who continues, “These cards mean sudden upheaval, tyranny, and reckoning.”
“That certainly sounds like our Nik,” Rebekah says, but there’s no humor in her voice. “What are we going to do about it?”
“These cards couldn’t be any more specific?” Hayley snaps.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy says, and there’s an earnestness in her voice that Hayley can’t ignore. “Tarot is about patterns, themes, general things to be aware of. They’re not visions. I don’t get details.”
Hayley runs her hand through her hair, nerves frayed. “Okay, what’s our game plan?”
“She’s being cloaked, so either she was taken by witches or by someone with witch help,” Freya says.
Vincent nods. “I’ll start asking questions.”
“I’ll do another reading,” Ivy offers. “I can’t make any promises, but maybe I’ll get something helpful.”
“I’ll head to some vampire hangouts,” Hayley snarls, already halfway out the door.
“Right behind you,” Rebekah calls.
In a blink, everyone’s off to their tasks, and River is left alone, staring hopelessly at the bubbling fountain.
Hope bangs against the metal door, but it’s useless. “Help!” she calls out of the small, barred opening in the door. “Help!” But the only response is her own echo.
She hears a low groan behind her, and she whips around. “Dad!” She’s back on her knees, by his side. “Dad, you’re okay.”
“Hope…” He lugs himself up onto one arm. “…you have to get out of here…”
“We’re trapped,” she said. “The door is spelled. There is no getting out of here.”
Klaus is silent, but one hand comes up to feel the hole in his shirt where the stake once protruded.
“I took it out,” Hope clarifies. “It wasn’t white oak, so you should be fine.”
“You should have left it in.” Klaus climbs to his feet and stalks to the door, slamming his fist against it. It doesn’t budge.
Still on the floor, Hope’s confused. “Leave it in? Why?”
But Klaus doesn’t answer. Instead he yanks repeatedly on the bars of the little window, trying to dislodge them.
“Dad?” He keeps tugging on the bars, so Hope stands and puts a hand on his arm in an attempt to still him. “Dad, what—”
Klaus shakes her off violently, and whips his head to snap at her. “You need to stay away from me.”
Hope’s eyes go wide as she stumbles back. She’s never seen her father this angry—at least, not at her. There’s fury in his eyes, but even in the dim light, she can see something else—fear?
“What’s happening?”
He gives up on removing the bars, and slumps against the door. Hand on his face, he murmurs, “Hope…”
Hope notices something reflecting the little light from the lit candles outside the door. “Dad, there’s something on your arm.”
Klaus lifts his arm up to inspect it. Glowering back at him on his skin is a raised, pale skull.
Marcel steps into Rousseau’s, nodding to Amaya behind the bar. He slides onto the stool and asks her, “Busy day?”
“Not too bad,” she answers with an easy smile. “My shift ends soon, hoping to have some time to catch up with Freya.”
“How’re things going with you two?” Marcel probes as she pours him a glass of bourbon.
“Good. She’s a great teacher if you need a crash course in the supernatural world of New Orleans.”
“You could definitely do worse.” Marcel takes a sip. There a raucous laugh from somewhere behind him, and Amaya looks over, frowning. Setting the glass down, Marcel asks, “Got some rowdy customers?”
“Just some guy celebrating something,” she sighs, and she gestures toward the customer in question. Marcel turns, and is surprised to see Alastair Duquesne, seated a table with several other customers, surrounded by empty pint glasses.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Marcel breathes.
Amaya’s brow furrows. “You know him?”
“Sure do.” Marcel turns back around and downs the rest of his bourbon in one gulp. Then he stands and grabs two things out of his pocket: a twenty-dollar bill and his cell. He passes the bill to Amaya and says, “Keep the change. I gotta deal with this.” And then he heads out of the bar, already dialing.
“What is that?”
“It’s nothing,” Klaus insists, inspecting the walls for a weak spot and avoiding Hope’s gaze.
Hope clenches her jaw. “You’re right. It’s perfectly normal so sprout scars that look like skulls on your arm. My mistake.”
“You know, Hope, now isn’t the most convenient time for your particular brand of sardonic wit.”
“Now also isn’t the most convenient time for you to lie to me. I can’t help us if I don’t know what’s going on.”
For the first time, Klaus notices the clanking metal that follows Hope whenever she moves. “What is that?”
“Dark Object chains. They’re preventing me from doing magic.”
Klaus is in front of her in a blink. He grasps the iron and attempts to yank it apart, but it’s just as stubborn as the door. “They’ve been spelled on.”
“I would’ve guessed.”
Klaus’s nostrils flare, but he moves on. “We have to get you out of here, immediately.” He returns to the walls, feeling around.
Hope’s voice is quiet when she asks, “What does the skull mean, Dad?”
Klaus stops, braces himself against the wall with one arm, and hangs his head. Still not looking at her, he says, “Do you remember the hex that your mother had to have siphoned out of your aunt Rebekah?”
“Yes.”
“A stake just like the one you pulled out of me is what infected her with that hex.”
Hope stays quiet, trying to remember what her mother told her about Rebekah’s curse all those years ago. “That hex…it made her…violent, didn’t it?”
Klaus doesn’t answer.
“Okay…” She bends down to pick up the stake again. This time she notices that at the hilt, dozens of creepy skulls have been carved into the wood. “What if I stake you again?”
Finally, Klaus looks at her. “What?”
Hope shrugs. “It’s a stake. Cursed or not, it’ll knock you out, at least for a little while, won’t it?”
There’s a long pause, then Klaus steps over to her, places his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her forehead. “No matter what your mother says, you got your brains from me.” He wraps his hand around hers over the stake and gently moves the wood against his chest. “Best do it quick, then, luv.”
Hopes nods and takes a deep breath. Then, screwing her eyes shut, she presses hard with all her might, shoving the stake into her father’s heart. He gasps slightly, and when she finally pries her eyes open, a grayness is creeping up his face. He falls to the ground, dead.
“Okay,” she mutters to herself, moving quickly to the door. “Out of here, gotta get out of here…”
She tries whacking her manacles against the metal door frame, hoping to cracked the rusted iron, but it’s fruitless. She inspects the door and the walls around it for any sigil or sign of what kind of magic is keeping them spelled in, but either there’s nothing to find or it’s too dark for her to see it. With a frustrated groan, she kicks the door, immediately regretting it; she hops on one foot, cursing under her breath, until a cracking sound distracts her from the throbbing in her toe. She turns to see her father slowly pulling the cursed stake out of his chest.
“Guess that didn’t work,” Hope sighs, but instead of replying, Klaus tosses the stake aside and pushes himself to his feet. Slowly, he turns to face his daughter—and ice rushes down Hope’s spine as she sees cold, black eyes staring unblinking back at her.
Marcel’s steps echo off the stone in the compound. “Klaus!”
“He’s not here.” Elijah descends the stairs, approaching Marcel with long strides. “He and his daughter are both missing.”
That stops Marcel short. “Hope’s gone?” Elijah nods. “Then my news is definitely important.”
“What news, Marcel?”
“I just spotted Alastair Duquesne in Rousseau’s, having himself a party of one.”
Elijah’s brow furrows as he racks his memory. “Duquesne…Scottish fellow?”
“Yeah, he was one of the vamps who organized the yearly celebration of Klaus’s sirelings.”
Elijah’s voice turns light and airy. “Oh yes, that quaint tradition developed while you held my brother bricked in a wall, I’m quite familiar.”
Marcel’s eyes narrow. “If he’s in town, it can only mean one thing. He’s looking to get his revenge on Klaus, and probably on Hope, too, since she’s the one who sprung him from that wall.”
“And what exactly did my dear brother do to inspire retribution from Mr. Duquesne?”
“Turned him into a vampire and forced him to kill his entire estate, including his wife and child.”
Elijah’s face blooms in surprise. His eyes stare a thousand miles away, and his voice is a hoarse whisper when he says, “Marcellus, do you remember when I taught you Italian using Dante’s Commedia?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Do you remember the concept of contrapasso?”
“Yeah, it’s the idea that your punishment in Hell must be a reflection of the sin that landed you there.” As he says it, the realization hits him. “Jesus Christ.”
Elijah grows impossibly pale. “He’s going to make him kill his own daughter.”
“Dad…” Hope backs up slowly, only creating a few feet of distance between them before her back hits the corner. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Hope. Your daughter.”
“Do you know what my first instinct was when I found out about you?” Klaus sounds wrong, like it’s someone else’s voice coming out of his mouth. “I wanted to rip you out of your whore mother and kill you both.”
Hope flinches, but tries to calm her shaky voice, “Dad, this isn’t you, this is the hex—”
“A lesson from father to daughter…” He takes a threatening step forward. “Always trust your instincts.”
He lunges, and Hope shrinks down with a shriek. The sound echoes terribly in the tiny room, and Klaus jerks to a halt, eyes suddenly clear. He looks down in horror at his daughter’s curled, trembling body, and in a flash he throws himself into the opposite corner, as far from her as he can get.
“Hope,” he rasps, “Hope, I’m so sorry.”
Hope claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her dry sob, then claws her way up the wall. “It’s okay,” she breathes, and she’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “It’s okay.”
“Hope, the longer this goes on, the less control I’ll have over myself. You have to get out.”
“I can’t.” Hope’s voice is edged with desperation. “Without my magic I’m useless.”
“You’ve always been useless.” His voice is wrong again, and Hope’s heart stops. “Always the family burden. How many times have we had to save you from this threat or that?” She can’t see more than the outline of him, but he’s approaching slowly. “How many times have we laid our lives on the line for you?”
“Dad, please—”
And then he’s on her, gripping her upper arms so tightly that she feels the bone fracture, and she yelps in pain. “Don’t call me that,” he snarls viciously. “You’re not my child, you’re a mistake I made one night over too much whiskey.”
“You’re my dad,” she snaps, even though her throat is thick with tears. “You’re my dad, and you love me.” His face is inches from hers, twisted and unrecognizable. “You love me so much you sacrificed years of your life to keep me safe! You love me so much you faked my own death when I wasn’t even twenty-four hours old! You sent me to hide with Rebekah and let the world think you were grieving me! You don’t make sacrifices like that for someone unless you love them more than you love yourself!”
“Perhaps I’ve sacrificed too much,” Klaus hisses. “Perhaps it’s time I reclaimed my life from the curse you’ve put on it.” He pulls her closer and slams her back against the wall, and the breath whooshes out of her body.
Hope manages to squeeze her hands up between their bodies and shoves him with all her might. He stumbles back, and it’s enough for her to break free from his grip and dart to the other side of their prison. When she turns back to look at him, he seems shaken by the shove, and he blinks at her. His eyes are shining, and she knows her father is back. “Hope…” His voice is so small she can barely hear him.
She doesn’t know what to say. She just stares at him, tears flowing silently down her face.
Elijah finds Freya and Vincent up in the clock tower, both of them bent over another map of the Quarter, chanting low and in sync. “Anything?”
Freya’s eyes flash up and, without stopping her chant, shakes her head.
“Vincent, what do you know of Alastair Duquesne?”
That gets the witches to stop. “Alastair Duquesne? He was some dick vampire who’d come ‘round once a year with all the others to party over the fall of Klaus Mikaelson. Why?”
“He’s back in town, and Marcel and I believe…” He swallows thickly, and his voice drops low. “We believe he intends to have Klaus murder Hope.”
Freya covers her mouth with a hand, her entire body shaking. Vincent’s face is ashen. “What do we need to do?”
“Tell me everything you know about Duquesne,” Elijah says urgently. “Anything you can remember.”
“Can’t remember much, man, I never really knew him. He’d roll up to town with his posse of ancient vamp friends, they’d feed on locals, tourists, and skip out after a few days, leave the rest of us to clean up his mess. The last time he was in town…” Vincent quirks an eyebrow. “Last time he was in town, Hope was in the process of breakin’ her dad outta Marcel’s little prison. Marcel ‘n’ I had to fight all of ‘em off so she could do her thing. He left as soon as Klaus was freed.”
“Did he have any allies, anyone in the city willing to give him aid?”
Vincent snaps his fingers. “Theo LeRoy.”
Freya lowers her hand. “But Theo’s in the Penitentiary.”
Vincent shakes his head. “They were working together. I know where Theo used to hole up, plan her dirty work. Plenty of places for him to stash a vampire and a tribrid.”
Elijah’s already turned for the door, phone in hand as he searches for Hayley’s contact. “Let’s go.”
“Hope, I need you to find a way to kill me.”
Hope shakes her head vigorously, face still streaked with tears. “I can’t,” she breathes. “I can’t, I can’t…”
Klaus feels it, the white-hot rage bubbling under his skin. He’s on a tightrope, one breath away from teetering over the edge and out of control. “The things I say when I…” He swallows thickly. “They’re not real. You are the most important thing in a thousand years. The only important thing.”
With a sniff, Hope whispers, “I know.”
She wipes at her face and stands up, still shaken but resolved. “How are we getting out of here?”
Klaus’s heart is a chasm, yawning and deep. “I don’t know,” he admits, and the truth has never felt so sharp.
Vincent stops before a nondescript door in an alley off Ursulines. Elijah wrenches it open to reveal a dark, narrow set of stairs leading underground. Before he can take a step, he feels a new presence at his side.
“I’m going first,” Hayley says, no room for debate in her tone.
Still, Elijah says, “This could be a trap.”
Hayley doesn’t repeat herself. Instead, she pushes her way past Elijah and disappears down the stairs. Elijah sighs, but follows half a second later.
Once they’re in the tunnels, the sound of Vincent and Freya’s footsteps echoing above them as they descend as well, Hayley closes her eyes and breathes in. “I can smell her,” she murmurs. “I can smell her fear.” And she’s off, Elijah barely able to keep up.
“Dad?” Hope says into the dark.
“Yes, my littlest wolf?” They’re as far apart as physically possible, crammed into their respective corners.
“I just want you to know…whatever…whatever happens…”
“Don’t talk like that,” Klaus cuts her off, his voice edged with panic. “Don’t…you’re going to be fine.”
Hope presses on, “Whatever happens, I don’t regret any of it. All of the choices I’ve made, all of the choices you made…they gave us what time we had together, and I will never regret that.”
There’s a long silence, and then a cold voice responds, “I know a thing or two about regret.” Hope’s eyes slid shut, and tears fall anew. “I regret every minute wasted protecting you. The tribrid…” Klaus’s voice turns mocking. “Descendant of all three magical species and yet you’re comprised of the worst parts of each…” He starts to prowl toward her. “The weakness of the witch…the irrationality of the wolf…the arrogance of the vampire…”
Arrogance sparks something in Hope’s mind. “Is this really going to be the thing that defeats you? The great Klaus Mikaelson, the thing that monsters have nightmares about, this is what’s going to bring you down? Some chintzy stake and a hex?” Klaus pauses. “You’re going to let…to let some enemy force you to do something? Force you to kill the person you love most? You’re not even going to fight it?”
She blinks, and Klaus is looming over her, fangs gleaming in the dim light. “Why would I fight this? I’ve been dreaming of draining you dry since before you were born. I bet you taste glorious…”
His hand tangles in her hair and wrenches her head to the side, exposing her neck.
Her shriek is deafening. Just as the teeth sink into her sink, she breathes, “Daddy, please.”
And the teeth are gone, and Hope is crumpling to the ground. Klaus stumbles back into the middle of the room, eyes wide. He looks at his daughter, shaking and bleeding, and without saying a word, reaches up, places one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his head, and snaps his own neck.
Hayley and Elijah freeze, the sound of Hope’s scream reverberating in their bones. Vincent and Freya manage to catch up, both winded.
“It came from this way.” Hayley points down a dark corridor in the labyrinthine tunnel system, and they take off. In a beat, they’re at a metal door. The vampires can hear Hope’s heartbeat, fast as a hummingbird’s wing. Hayley yanks on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
“Let me.” Freya steps in front of the door and places her hand on the metal. Vincent joins her, and the two bow their heads. After a few moments of murmuring, the door creaks—it’s open.
Hayley whips the door to the side and is shocked to see Klaus’s unconscious body collapsed on the ground, head contorted at a gruesome angle. Her eyes dart to the corner, where Hope sits, arms around her knees, her own eyes locked on her father.
“Hope.” Hayley rushes to her daughter, wrapping her arms around her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Hope doesn’t answer.
Elijah steps carefully into the room, bends down, and picks up the stake. “Sister.”
Freya takes the stake Elijah extends to her. She nods. “You get him in a car. Looks like we’re taking a road trip.”
One arm still tucked around Hope’s shoulders, Hayley gently eases Hope to her feet. “It’s okay,” she whispers, kissing Hope’s head as she leads the way out of the tiny prison. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Hope is curled up on a sofa in the library, staring into the lit fireplace, unblinking. She’s got a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but despite the heat, she feels ice in her veins. Absentmindedly, she rubs at her wrists, where the phantom feeling of clanging metal still lingers; she’s all healed up, even the fractured bones in her arms, but the ache remains.
There’s a rapping of knuckles on wood behind her, and she starts, head twisting around in a snap. Stars burst in her eyes as they adjust from the warm glow of the fire to the darkness in the hall.
River’s leaning against the doorframe, and she frowns in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Hope shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Her voice is raspy; she hasn’t used it in hours. “Come on in.”
River gently settles beside her girlfriend, raising a hand hesitantly to rest on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
Hope’s back to staring into the fire. “Have you ever had so many thoughts going on at one time that it’s like you’re not having any thoughts at all?”
“…No?”
“Well, that’s pretty much where I’m at.”
“That sounds…shitty.” River sets her chin atop her hand on Hope’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”
“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, and to feel that way about my dad…” She trails off before scrubbing at her eyes. “Is it dumb if I feel guilty?”
River’s face twists with confusion, but it’s Hayley who speaks from the doorway. “What on earth do you feel guilty about?”
Hope doesn’t meet her mother’s eyes as she sits on the opposite sofa. “If I weren’t here…no one would be able to use me to get to Dad. To hurt him. I wouldn’t be his weakness.”
Hayley reaches across to grab her daughter’s hand. “Hope…that’s just what being a parent is. From the minute you were born it was like…someone had torn my heart out of my chest, and it was just…out there, in the world, for anyone to take or to tear apart.” She squeezes Hope’s hand. “You are the greatest joy in your dad’s life. I knew him before you were born, and let me tell you, he needed some joy in his life.”
That cracks a smile onto Hope’s face, and she wipes at her eyes again. “How is he?”
Settling back on her sofa, Hayley says, “I just got off the phone with Elijah. It took some convincing, but they got Caroline Forbes and Alaric Saltzman to agree to let their girls siphon the hex out of your dad. He’s all fixed up.”
“So they’re on their way back?” Hope asks.
Hayley hesitates. “Elijah and Freya are, yes.”
Hope curls in on herself. “He’s not coming home?”
Hayley stands and moves to sit on the other side of Hope, pulling her daughter into her chest. “Oh Hope…your dad just needs some time to…” She sighs. “I don’t know. But he promised he wouldn’t be gone for long.”
“He’s avoiding me.”
And Hayley doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to refute the truth, so she says, “I’m so sorry, Hope.”
Quietly, River asks, “Did they catch who did this?”
“Alastair Duquesne was being helped by two witches, Leanne and Dominic.” Hope sits upright, surprised. “They’re in the Penitentiary.” Hayley’s eyes grow cold. “Alastair is…being taken care of.”
Hope furrows her brow. “What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t have to worry about it.”
Hope’s too tired to feel much of anything, so she lets it go. She tips her head back onto her mother’s shoulder and weaves her fingers through River’s. “Today sucked.”
“Yeah.” River brings the back of Hope’s hand to her lips. “Let’s make tomorrow better.”
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
marktdispensary
Markt Dispensary
siriuseshusband
Moony
twistedappletree
I believe in Jin Ling supremacy. 💛