#Guess maybe I should mix his up a bit. He saved me last time. when I had to fight BIG CUBE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyidkyay · 1 year

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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Fourteen

A/n: Hello! This part honestly took me a while to work out so here's me hoping it came out alright:) Big thank you to @Youlookjustfinetome btw for finding me some more G pics, honestly lots of love to you, practically saved my life🥲 And I hope you all enjoy part fourteen!!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: There's some medical stuff here, lot of mixed feelings, bit of an angry rant but not much to warn you about tbh

Masterlist

—

I'd found myself nodding away, head in another place when the doctor had come in to speak to me.

Wishing I’d been on another plane.

Or in a different fucking reality altogether, I really didn’t know.

But I’d hardly paid her any attention, even when she’d rattled off the extensive list of the injuries they’d discovered since the paramedics had wheeled me in.

Severe blunt force trauma to the head. “There’s no need to fret, I know it can sound daunting but the induced coma you were put into on arrival was used to protect your brain from any further swelling after the initial hit. We’ve also done multiple scans since so we’re almost certain that there will be no longterm damage.”

“Hang on- almost? What’s that meant to mean?” Matty had piped up in retort, having held my hand through it the entire time. He hadn’t let go, not even for a second, once the shorthaired woman had arrived not long after Lee, my nurse, had slipped out.

“Only time will tell with these sorts of injuries.” She’d tried to appease us with a clinical sort of smile, but then had gone on to describe the hit to me…

I had to shake away the thoughts of it even now, long after she’d left.

It sounded so violent. So harsh to what I could barely even recall.

“You were hit head-on. Meaning that your torso took the brunt force of the collision, which also resulted in you being thrown backwards nearly three feet. That in itself left a lot of room for damage when your body collided with the ground. The back of your head will have a rather large scar but we did our best to minimise it, and the hair should fall nicely over the top without any notice.”

I’d nodded at her once and had fought the urge to reach up and touch beneath the thick gauze they’d padded there.

Another scar.

I’d had to look away when Matty had tried to catch my eye.

One perforated eardrum, left-side. “There was a severe rupture in one of your inner ear canals which was a cause for concern too. At this moment, we’re still left unsure on how long it could take for the damage to repair itself, or if it ever will as a result of the injury to your head. Currently, we’ve got you taking a high dosage of-”

She’d prattled on after that. Talks of antibiotics and surgery (if things really came down to it), and then the warning of me maybe having to deal a with a total loss of hearing incase of any infection in the future.

I’d checked out rather quickly at that. But in truth, it had explained a lot. The ringing that wouldn’t stop. The earaches and the itching. As well as the feeling like I’m underwater, hearing everything through a tinny in-ear piece, or trying to talk over the sound of a very rowdy washing machine.

Matty had asked the doctor a plethora of questions on my behalf at that. Or I only assumed, because the woman had replied telling him that she would be happy to pass on a couple of pamphlets for him to look over. I remembered that he’d been anxious in his agreeable nod, thanking her a few times under his breath. And that had been the last of it before she’d moved on again.

A distal radius fracture. Multiple breaks in the ribcage. “The distal radius is the larger one of the two bones in the forearm. You suffered two fractures there, one on the distal end and another a little further up. It’s a very common break though and you were able to avoid any surgery on the arm. Though, it will take between six to twelve weeks to heal. And after that, some patients still find that they need physiotherapy to get back full usage of the wrist.”

I’d looked down at my hand in that moment. Stared at the cast which started at the centre of my palm and worked its way up to the crook of my elbow. The small cut I'd received in the shop earlier that same week had nothing on this.

It was my right arm too. Which only fucked me further, and I’d had to laugh at that. As though I hadn’t suffered enough. Now I had to forgo the next few months trying to manoeuvre through life and work with my left. fucking. hand.

I’d tried not to let that thought get to me in the moment. Focused on the fact that I could still move my fingers somewhat, even if they were swollen and a tad bit numb. It hadn’t helped then though and hardly reassured me now.

The detailed description of my ribs current state had followed swiftly after. Which explained the trouble I had breathing, as well as the severe burning pain I felt whenever I even thought about moving.

“It was just the three fractures.” Just, I’d wanted to scoff at her. “All on one side, most likely due to the first impact made by the car. Most cases of broken ribs can be treated with rest, icing a couple times a day and pain relief.”

The doctor had then gone on to explain about the breathing and coughing exercises she was going to have me do whilst I was under-observation. Something about preventing pneumonia or the sorts. Which had just been another thing I had ended up not having the heart to hear.

Although the fracture in one of my ribs had quickly waylaid her onto her next point. She’d actually had to pause when she’d come to it and really took the time to look me in the eye, her stoic and impersonal manner dropping.

I mean, the woman had been nice enough, she’d smiled when necessary and took the time to explain things to me in thorough detail, but she was also evidently detached, that much was clear. She didn’t want to get overly involved in my case. Couldn’t. But then, something had ultimately shifted. Even Matty had appeared to notice it, he’d clued in to the way she’d propped herself forward in her seat, the slight glance she’d gifted her colleague before she’d cleared her throat, eyes trained back on me.

She’d begun her account in a sincere but well-practiced tone, informing me of the injury that had been a result of my broken ribs. And as she had, I’d actually felt my entire world tilt on its head. And I only wished then to be floating again.

Splenic rupture. That one had been the toughest pill to swallow.

“One of the ribs on your left side pierced the spleen on impact but it only tore the organ further during transport I'm afraid. It had been hard to determine at first, the three breaks had been one of our first concerns and because of your difficulty breathing our first thought had been a collapsed lung. By the time we realised how much damage had been caused, after we’d witnessed a CT scan result, there was a large amount of blood that had poured into the abdominal cavity.”

I’d just stared blankly back at her.

“You were put under an anaesthetic rather quickly and rushed into theatre…”

“Surgery went well, although there was an altercation or two…”

“Tried to minimise scarring…”

“Risk of infection…”

“Future treatments..”

“Medications…”

I had tuned it all out.

Physically I’d still been there. In that room with her. And Matty of course. But mentally, my mind had been far away. Beyond even my own compression. It’d felt like I’d sort of drowned and the struggle to find air had suddenly stopped. Leaving me with just an empty head. No thoughts. No feelings. Nothing on the matter.

Just the fact that I had another scar.

And that, that made me feel like a walking voodoo doll.

—

My stay in the hospital was beginning to grate on my nerves. Slowly but surely I was starting to lose my mind. And I was so sure of it.

It had taken two days for me to come to the first time around. Two days since the hit, I mean. But now, I’d been here almost a week. Sleeping mostly, but bored beyond belief or in mind-numbing pain for the rest of it.

Ross had come to visit. He came daily, sometimes even twice. He brought food (sticking to what he knew best) and it often ranged from the chocolate pasties he knew I tended to drift towards in the Danish bakery up near his, to all of the sugar he could smuggle inside the lining of his coat.

He liked to keep me company too; told me all about the football, who was top of the league and what players were currently injured; kept me updated on how things were going with his mates down at the pub (the very blokey bloke types he’d always seemed to get along with); and whispered to me about all the hot gossip that was making its way around the hospital that he often caught wind of on his way up to the ward, and during his frequent visits to the vending machine.

Ross didn’t ask too many questions either and after his first frantic visit, I found myself wanting to ask him less and less too. He was also one of the fair few that still treated me like an actual person. The usual bullying and typical snarky responses were a very welcomed change of pace, as were those eye-rolls of his that he usually gifted me each time I had a coughing fit.

“Here we go,” He’d say with a put-upon sigh, slumping in the chair he tended to drag up beside my bed whenever Matty gave him the chance. “Always the centre of attention! I mean, can’t we just talk about me for once?”

Which only proved to worsen things because then I’d been coughing, laughing and spluttering all sorts of obscenities at him, all at the same time.

Yeah, it was safe to say that my doctors weren’t too fond of Ross.

Adam though, they liked. He popped in too, and brought Carly along with him whenever she could make it. Those two were oftentimes too empathetic in their visits though, which was sometimes hard to bare. But they’d also brought me my favourite kind of teabags and the lactose-free milk I opted for. As well as my own little kettle that they’d gone and plugged into the wall beside my bed for me- but only after I’d nonstop complained about the hospital’s lack of fulfilling drinks.

Their tea tasted like piss water was the shorter defence there.

But Hann had also been the one to bring me over some of the things I’d been missing from home, like my pillow, laptop and my charger- seeing as my phone had been dead since it’d been handed back to me in a plastic baggy, alongside an array of other things I didn’t much want to look at. Mostly just the clothes I’d been wearing the night of the accident.

It was a heaven send though, to be able to distract myself with a shitty Netflix series or the odd scroll through social media. Although I did have to limit my usage. Stop myself from googling questions I knew I wouldn’t like the answers to. Still, it had been a nice gesture in all, made even better by the comfort of finally wearing my own clothes and actual underwear! Instead of the itchy gown they’d had me in.

Though mentioning that, the one who knew me best, who I thought would be by my bedside, holding my hand, and making sure I stayed well-rested. Who soothed me during the moments of panic and disorientation. Who whispered quietly in my ear and held me close when the reminders became too much to bare, and when pain was all I could think about.

He was nowhere to be found.

Because Matty had gone and stepped into that role for him. For me, I guess. Sweet, chaotic Matty who could barely even look after himself at the best of times, and who’d spent most of his adult life revelling in the fact that he had no strings to tie him down. He was there for me. A constant.

Only ever leaving in a rush to shower and change so that he could make it back in time for when I had to take my medication.

Charming Lee into letting him stay long past visiting hours and having the sweetheart swindle him a makeshift bed that he could use, instead of the clump of chairs he’d converted into a shitty lounger.

Talking the rest of the patients into doing a bit of karaoke and dancing by my bed to keep me entertained. He’d even had Ross bring him his guitar so that we could sing together before lights out. Him crooning like he did best, me all muffled and croaky. Though he still claimed that my voice was as angelic as the last time he’d heard it.

Matty. My best mate Matty.

I didn’t think I’d ever been more thankful to have another human being in my life. Nor would I ever be.

So after prodding him with multiple questions on where George could’ve possibly been. What was keeping him away. And only receiving vague responses in turn, or worse, being easily distracted. I finally decided to give up.

Well. Not give up, per say. Just allowed Matty some peace and quiet. I knew it wasn’t his fault that George had been a no-show. That he’d gone and left me when I needed him most. So the questions had become less and less frequent, until I’d decided to not ask them at all.

“You sure you’re alright?” Matty repeated for what felt like the fifteenth time since I’d accidentally woken him that morning.

He was setting out my lunch for me, something I found infuriating but was also what kept his hands occupied and brain busy, he was eyeing me a bit strangely. Like he felt as though something was inherently off and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I rolled my eyes, a fond smile limning my lips even as he pierced the straw through my smoothie’s carton for me.

“I told you I could do that.” I scolded lightly.

Matty merely hummed in reply, “Yeah, well you say that but you can hardly hike down your own knickers even after I’ve dragged you all the way to the loo, so…”

He snorted at my sudden glare, waving me off with a smirk as he handed me the drink and stole the sandwich the nurses had dropped off for me.

“What kind is it today?” I asked him, sipping at the smoothie that came with it whilst he plopped himself down on the other end of my bed, kicking his feet up near my uninjured wrist.

“Ham and cheese, I reckon. Maybe a bit of mayo but can’t be too sure. Stingy fucks these lot.” He retorted through a mouthful. I grinned and withheld a painful laugh.

This had become a bit of a pastime for us. Him stealing the sandwiches that I refused to eat, because they always seemed to line the bread with a crap ton of butter, which even thinking about had my stomach rolling. And him then critiquing every flavour to me.

Yesterday’s had been stuffing and egg, something that had had Matty grimacing even as he fought to finish the first few mouthfuls. He’d quickly given up on that one though and washed the foul taste out with one of the many cans of San Pellegrino he'd asked Hann to bring in for him. Prat.

“Anyway, you never answered me.” Matty mentioned again, bringing me back to the present. I hummed at him with only a tilt of my head. He rolled his eyes and prodded my hip with his socked foot. “Come on, something’s up. Can sense it, can’t I?”

I snorted softly at him, quirking a brow. “What, you become a self-proclaimed empath in the time you went home to shower?”

He flashed me a toothy grin which wrinkled his brown eyes. “Summat like that, I reckon.”

I huffed, shaking my head albeit in a measure of amusement. “Nothing’s wrong, Wonder Woman. Dr Mann even said I was improving, did she not?”

I wasn’t met with a reply though, so I glanced away from my smoothie and back towards Matty. I found him to simply be staring back at me. A prominent line etched between his brows.

“What?” I asked him with pursed lips.

It was his turn to shake his head then, looking away to gaze out the shuttered window. We were quite high up, 6th floor if what I can recall Ross saying is true. The sun was high in the sky, and there was not a drop of rain in sight.

I looked away then and kicked at Matty’s elbow. “Come on, what is it? You’re bein’ a right weirdo.”

He shrugged, chewing away, eyes still cast outside. “Just, you haven’t mentioned it is all.”

I frowned at him, unsure of what he possibly could've meant. “Mentioned what?”

Matty’s gaze pivoted towards me for a brief moment, looking for something I was sure, probably a a tell only he could make out. Then he shrugged at me again.

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“Matty…” I tried, but my tired groan was cut short by the prominent arrival of Ross.

An angry looking Ross, actually.

I boggled a little at the sight, as did Matty who'd jumped around to see what had caught me by so much surprise.

“Matty. A word.” Ross demanded of the curly haired twat curled up by my feet, having stuck half his foot in the door and not had the common decency to even spare me a hello. What would his mother say?

“Erm, morning to you too, MacDonald!” I scoffed as I made a face, but it'd been futile seeing as Ross was already back out the door and pacing up and down the hallway. Matty patted my shin in quiet comfort and gave me an apologetic smile before he gestured his head over towards the hall.

“Best go see what he wants.”

And all I could do was watch as Matty left, still chained to this hospital bed. Once the door had dragged close behind him, I found myself with literally fuck all else to do. So, like the adult I was, I threw myself back into my nest of pillows and groaned pathetically. Wishing I could do more than just lie here day in and day out.

—MATTY’S POV—

“I’m gonna fucking kill him, Matty.” Were the first words Ross spoke to him as Matty slipped out of the room, catching him mostly off guard.

Ross was hardly ever the aggressor. In actual fact, he was one of the most tolerant guys Matty had ever known. It truly took a lot to get him to crack, or even tell you to piss off, let alone this riled up. He didn’t actually think he’d ever been witness to Ross’s ire, but reckoned he could easily check that off the list now though.

Matty blinked for a moment then cast a chance glance back through the glass and towards his best mate. The girl who was currently holed up in a hospital room with a frown as huffy as it was prominent. It was hard seeing her like that, so broken. When in actuality, she was the toughest fucking person he’d had the privilege of knowing.

Cut deep.

“Right,” He dipped his chin and took a much needed breath before he ushered Ross a little farther down the ward, away from the room's entrance. Not wanting her to hear or see the state Ross had seemingly worked himself into, although Matty could already guess what the cause would be. “What’re you playing at? You can’t storm in here like that, mate.”

Ross groaned into the palms of the hands he dragged harshly over his face, tugging on his temples for a second before he dropped them altogether. His shoulders were still tense though, practically touching the lobes of his ears.

“Yeah, yeah ‘course, sorry.”

Matty jerked his nod back down the hall. “No need for that, ‘cause you, man, are gonna be the one dodging all her questions when she ultimately starts asking what that was all about.”

Ross almost came very close to pouting then. Matty was sure of it, if only it hadn’t been for that fiery wall of anger he was still shrouded in. “Really? Alright. Fine, yeah fair. Deserve that much, I ‘spose. Just- I’m beyond fucking livid, mate.”

Matty’s brow pinched. “Why, what's happened?”

“What didn’t, you mean.” Ross scoffed, back to pacing in his big boots. Matty just hoped that none of the morning staff came to see what was causing the sudden commotion. They already seemed to hate the pair of them enough.

“Alright, mate. Just, I don’t know. Start with what’s got you so…” Matty shrugged a hand aimlessly towards his bearded bassist.

Ross tugged another hand through his long hair, loosening the bun he had it in by a tad.

“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Maybe with the fact that I’ve tried everything. Fucking everything! Phoning, texting. Even passed by his a couple times. He won’t open the poxy door. Won’t answer Jamie or Hann either. I went over again this morning- saw some shit on Twitter last night so I reckoned I might find him there. Stole that spare key from you too, like you said, and tried using it on the locks but the prick’s only got the chain on. Latch too. So I didn't make it far.”

Matty was already chewing at his lower lip. Something he’d found himself doing more and more often as of late. Ever since that sodding fucking phone call, the one he’d almost missed. He could still hear George’s muffled cries now. The sirens. The pleads. Then the apology.

His hands shook even as he recalled it all. Fucking coward.

His attention was swiftly brought back to the present when Ross started up again, only getting more and more irritated the longer his story went on.

“So, like the twat I am. I sat outside his all morning. Just managed to catch him dragging himself home, though. Don’t know how the fucker had gone and locked himself out from the inside but, well, it’s G ain’t it?” He said through gritted teeth, “Looked a right state, too. Still halfway to pissed and smelt a bit. I mean, is he deluded? She’s in here. Whilst he’s off, doing fuck knows what, out there! It’s an utter piss take, mate. Everyday she asks after him, asks if he’s doing alright, if things are okay. And he, he could not give less of a shit.”

“Hasn’t today.” Matty found himself mumbling, dark eyes casted out towards the lifts as a familiar itch passed through his veins. Which was convenient because just as Ross went to question him on it, Hann stepped out through the sliding metal doors.

The man paused, catching sight of them just as the lift closed behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

“George.” Ross muttered with venom.

Whilst Matty sighed “Nothing.” at the exact same time. He simply shook his head dismissing it all when Hann approached them. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

Hann’s sharp gaze darted between the pair of them before he answered, “Was on the phone to Jamie most of this morning, then popped by to talk to Y/n’s boss. Lovely woman, actually.”

A real grin stretched its way across Matty’s face at the mention of Delia. “Isn’t she just?” He fawned.

Hann gave him one of those famous smiles of his and then proceeded to hold up a bag. “She mentioned she’d be stopping by again soon, but wanted me to bring this over.”

Matty’s attention dropped down to the bright bag, a prominent ‘Get well soon!’ engraved in gold on its side. “Nice of her. Did you get the stuff I asked for too?”

Adam rolled his eyes and moved his right shoulder, showing off the other bag, this one a duffle. “Yes, all here. Don’t stress.”

He went to reach for it when Hann’s eyebrows did a weird sort of dance on his forehead. Matty pulled a face at it and glanced over at Ross, who was still acting a bit aggy with his arms all crossed and nostrils still flared. Though Matty couldn’t fault him. He was still rightfully pissed off too.

“Tell me what’s gone on and then you can have the bag.” Adam bargained, receiving a pair of narrowed eyes in return.

“Drive a hard bargain, you do.” Matty huffed, falling back against the wall as he gestured outwardly towards Ross. “Was gonna tell you anyway.”

Hann merely hummed at him, dropping the bags between his legs as his head rounded on Ross. “What’s G done now?”

Ross’s jaw ticked and he went on another ramble, rehashing things to Hann in a bit more detail before Matty had to stop him.

“Where’s he at now then?”

“Passed out back at mine.” Ross told them, though he didn’t appear too happy about that fact. “Fucker had me drag him back to my car, wouldn’t move from the curb otherwise.”

Matty tucked his tongue between his front teeth, mind whirling. He hadn’t been to George’s yet, hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital let alone the place where everything had happened. He could only imagine what torment George has been faced with having to look at it day in and day out.

From what Ross had told them, the road had been fully blocked off until late afternoon the very next day with police patrolling and removing the vehicle from the scene. Matty grimaced at the thought of it all and listened to the quiet tones of Hann’s voice trying to calm Ross down. He deemed the moment as the easy access he needed to grab hold of the duffle and head back down the ward, deciding not to think too much about it right then.

Adam’s tut echoed and followed after him. Matty threw him a smug smile from over his shoulder.

Now it was time to get to work.

Part fifteen>

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teaberrii · 2 years

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Chapter 3: The Climb (Love Blues)

You're both running from a traumatic past. In a fated mix-up, you end up hosting this man for two weeks at your family-owned villa where sparks start to fly.

Alhaitham/You

Notes: Cross-posted on Ao3.

The chapter index is at the end of chapter one.

Alhaitham is an early riser. That’s a fact you wish you knew before he knocks on your door at five in the morning. You had told him to get up early for the hike the night before, but you weren’t expecting him to be this early. He’s dressed in a dark tank and shorts with a pendant around his neck. It’s a simple outfit that’s strangely attractive.

“Morning.”

Oh, geez. And then there’s that smile. You open your door a little wider. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” you ask, half-jokingly. “Maybe I should’ve been more specific.”

“Sorry, but I want to ask if I could use your kitchen.”

“Er, go ahead. But, why?”

“Why else? Breakfast, of course.”

Hang on. Is he willing to make you breakfast? Or are you dreaming? You’re suddenly wide awake. “Wait. Shouldn’t I be the one making you breakfast? I mean, you’re still paying to stay here. At least, isn’t that what we agreed on last night?"

“Does it matter?” he asks kindly. “It looks like you still want to sleep. I’m up already, so why not?” This man is full of surprises. “Should I take your silence as a yes?”

"Well, I can't stop you... But, I was thinking of buying something.”

Alhaitham puts a hand on your door. “Well, save the money.” You get a whiff of his shampoo, and you look away as if his scent has you unable to look him in the eyes. “I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”

Finally, you look up to see him walking away. You lean against your doorframe and cross your arms. Well, let’s see what he’s got.

When you’re downstairs, you get a whiff of a bread-like smell. Pancakes? You walk into the kitchen and see Alhaitham bring two plates to the counter. When he sees you, he says, “That was fast.”

“It’s not every day I have someone cook for me.”

You sit on a chair, and he sits beside you as he passes you a drink to go with your breakfast. “You live alone?”

For three years. “I do." As you cut into the pancake, you say, "Not everyone is as lucky as you to have such a kind roommate."

Alhaitham catches the playful tone and says, "Oh, you wouldn't be saying that if you met him."

You laugh. "Harsh, aren't we?"

"That's considered harsh?"

A small moment of silence passes as the pancakes on your plate disappear. Finally, Alhaitham notices as he glances from your plate to you. “...I take it that it’s good?”

“Do you want the truth?”

He smiles slightly. “Are my feelings going to get hurt?”

“It’s not half bad. Maybe you should open a bed and breakfast one day.”

“That would probably be tough.”

You swallow the pancake in your mouth and cut the rest into pieces as you ask, “Why?”

“I only cook when I’m interested.”

You don’t want to overthink, but what does he mean by that? Interested… in what? When he feels like it?

“Do you cook for your roommate?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer your question. But, you swear you see a slight smile tug on his lips before it’s gone.

You and Alhaitham are out the door before the crack of dawn. You’re walking side-by-side when he asks, “Should I be afraid that you’re not telling me where this hiking trail leads?”

You stop at a bus stop where a few others are waiting. “Well, if you don’t come back, at least there are witnesses.” But, to give him some peace of mind, you take out a map of the area and show him the trail you plan on taking him on. He puts his hand just above yours on the map as you talk. Then, you look to your right and realize how close he is.

Then, without warning, he turns to you, and you're staring into his green eyes.

Your grip on the map tightens unexpectedly. Your heart races as he’s inches away from your face. The scent of his shampoo, although faint, is suddenly overwhelming.

The last time your heart raced for a man was your ex-husband, the only person who made your heart flutter and mind go blank. He had been your first and only in everything. You were childhood sweethearts, and you relied on him. Perhaps a little too much. So, when you finally uttered those three words, your world shattered into a million pieces.

So, what is it about Alhaitham that has you so intrigued? You’ve seen guys like him. You even went on a couple of blind dates courtesy of your friends after your divorce. But none of them are like him. None of them reminded you more of yourself than this man beside you. How are you so sure? Because his eyes look like yours.

There’s something about you that Alhaitham can’t put his finger on. It’s the banter, he thinks. But he knows it started before that. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight; it’s silly.

Yet, he couldn't look away when he saw you on the train. Perhaps it’s your eyes—one of intrigue and curiosity. But, there’s also something else. Lonely. Broken. Damaged. There’s no spark in your eyes like what he saw with most people. But, oddly enough, he saw himself in you. Someone who’s barely above water and is doing everything they can to survive.

He’s curious, and he only wants to study whatever interests him.

◆◆◆

You stretch and take a deep breath when you reach a small mountain peak. Alhaitham isn’t far behind. You see the sea in the distance and a large and small fishing boat sailing on the water. A far-off island is barely visible, but you can still make out its turtle-like shape. It’s the perfect day for swimming, and that’s exactly what some people are doing below underneath the hot sun and bright blue skies.

You and Alhaitham sit next to each other, enjoying a well-deserved break. As he puts his drink down, he glances at you. “So, how’d you discover this place?”

“Actually, it was my brother."

You needed to sit. Your legs were killing you, and your lungs felt like they were on fire. It took one hike to realize how out of shape you were. Your brother had to jog back to check up on you.

“We’re almost there!”

You shielded the sun from your eyes as you looked up at the never-ending mountain trail. He had been saying that for thirty minutes, so you gave him a deadpan look. “Are you saying that so I won’t turn back?”

“No, really. Trust me. You’ll love the view.”

You groaned loudly as your brother grabbed your wrist and tugged you along.

“It was worth it in the end,” you say, looking at the view. “But, I had to hit him a few times just to get it out of my system.”

“Sounds like you have a good relationship with him.”

“What about you?” You turn to him. “Any siblings?”

“Only child.” He takes another swig of water. “Sometimes I wished I had a sibling, though.”

You look at him with a smile. “Well, you have that roommate of yours.” Alhaitham scoffs quietly with a slight grin. “Your parents must’ve spoiled you then.” Of course, you meant it as a joke, but when you see his smile disappear, you instantly regret it. Did you say something you shouldn’t have said?

“My grandparents were the ones who mostly raised me.” Alhaitham twists the cap on the bottle shut and puts it down. “My parents were away a lot for work.”

“It sounds like they would have a lot of interesting stories to tell.”

“You’re right… but travelling also has its dangers.” He looks in the distance. “...They got into an accident abroad.”

Your smile instantly vanishes. “...I’m so sorry.”

Alhaitham looks at you with a gentle smile. “Still, they influenced me a lot, despite their absence. It was always exciting to hear about their adventures. But, I’d like to stay in one place for work, at least for the most part.”

“I can relate to that.” You lean back and spread your hands out behind you. “I had no idea what I wanted to do after I graduated… but I knew I didn’t want to be jetting off somewhere new every few months. Sounds kind of odd compared to what most people are into nowadays.”

“Everyone has their preference. There’s no right way to live.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “True." A pause. "Then, I went to grad school."

“What made you go, if you don't mind my asking.”

“Just go back to school.” As you watched your husband slip on his coat, ready to head off to work for the day, your heart sank. He looked over his shoulder. “You like to study, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

He suddenly kissed your head. “Let’s talk more when I get back, okay?”

Before you could say anything, he was out the door. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it. You were already doing your research on graduate programs in psychology, but it was what you wanted out of it. Sure, you loved the subject, but studying didn’t pay the bills. You occasionally mentioned it to your husband, but his response was always, “You should just do what you like.”

While it was initially a nice response, it soon became one that got on your nerves. Was he really listening to you?

“...I enjoyed the subject a lot.”

If Alhaitham has a hunch that there’s more to the story, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he says, “That definitely makes studying easier. I can never concentrate on anything I don’t like.”

Your look turns skeptical. “You look like the type of person that got straight A’s without even trying in school.”

Alhaitham chuckles softly. “Do I? Well, at least I make a good impression.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I would’ve hated you,” you say jokingly.

“...Then, maybe it’s good we didn’t meet until now.”

You don’t want to overthink that statement. It can be interpreted in various ways, and you don’t want to drive yourself crazy. But, regardless, it makes you smile, and that’s all that matters. As soon as Alhaitham sees you smile, he does too.

Then, you look at the time on your watch. “We should get going if we want to make it back before sundown.”

As he follows you with the empty bottle in hand, he says, “Hm, an evening hike doesn’t sound so bad.”

You look over your shoulder. “So does a nice hot bath. I don’t know about you, but I know which I would pi—ah!”

Your fall is fast, but Alhaitham is faster. His tight grip on your arm stops you from falling forward. Then, he slowly pulls you towards him. “Careful,” you hear him whisper. Your mind tells you not to, but your heart says yes. You turn to him, meet his eyes, and hear your heart thump loudly in your chest. He lets you go. “I’ll lead this time.”

“...Be careful.”

He looks back and smirks, “Just take care of yourself.”

◆◆◆

Alhaitham is in the shower that night when the fire alarm suddenly goes off. With a towel wrapped around his lower half, he rushes out and sees a cloud of smoke in the kitchen. You had just turned off the alarm and waved the smoke away when he approached you.

“What happened?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—” Holy moly. The water droplets that run down his bare, toned torso are a sight for the eyes. You pry your gaze away to look at his worried face. “I, uh, I was trying to make us dinner.”

“By setting the place on fire?” he asks with an amused grin.

You look away sheepishly. “...It’s the thought that counts.”

Alhaitham stands in front of you now, and you’re fighting every nerve in your body not to look down. Then, finally, he takes the spatula from you. “...Let me finish my shower, and I’ll make something for the both of us.”

“Or… we could go out and buy something.”

When he smiles mischievously, your fingers start rubbing against your palm. What is he planning? Suddenly, he leans closer. “Or… I could give you a cooking lesson.”

Your bottom lip slightly curls inwards. “For free?”

He steps toward you. You would be staring straight into his chest if you weren't looking up. “What do you think?”

You’re sure of it now. He’s flirting with you. And you’re enjoying every minute of it.

Chapter Four

Tag List: @suoshiii @lordbugs

#alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #al haitham genshin #al haitham fluff #al haitham

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 4 months

Text

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 37

Chapter 36

Masterlist

Just a heads up I'll be jumping ahead in time a bit for the first two sequences before we head back to the present point in time.

---------------Temerian dungeon a few weeks later-----------

"The Targaryen princess seemed to recognize you right away," Roche addresses an imprison Geralt, "the look in her eyes, it was almost as she'd seen a ghost the moment she turned to face you. But you on the other hand...what is your relationship to the princess, Geralt?" "That I don't remember," Geralt admits. "Well it appeared you were one of the people she was looking for in her solitary quest," Roche says, "something about you being connected to her mother, the Lady of Larks. I never would've guessed..."

"How do know her?" Geralt questions. "I had the very high honor of meeting her years ago," Roche explains in his usual sarcastic way, "my men saved her from these bandits. Then, I had the very displeasure of meeting her father as well as the dragons."

"Go on, then," Roche insists, "finish the rest of the story. If I remember correctly, after your little confrontation with the princess she disappeared to meet with the sorceress Tris."

"She did," Geralt confirms, "but then she rejoined us in the monastery. She had some questions she wanted to ask me..."

---------Meanwhile in King's Landing-----------------

In the small council chambers, a meeting was held. Present for the meeting, apart from the small council members was Queen Alicent and the Hand of the king. The king himself was not present,. In fact, Viserys hadn't been present for any of these meetings for the last few years or so, around the time when his health had taken a sharp decline, to the point where the king barely leaves his chambers for most of the day and had become dependent on Milk of the Poppy to keep the pain at bay.

The meeting was about to conclude, before a servant knocked and enter the chambers. "Beg pardon your Grace, my lords," the servant addresses, holding a scroll in his hand, "this message is addressed to his Grace the king...or at least we think it is." "You think it is?" Otto raised a eyebrow at that statement.

"The uh...the message, I'm afraid is written in a different language," the servant explains, "it came from the Continent, but no one here appears able to speak it."

"...maybe there might be one," Alicent suggests, "send of Ser Ivan. Maybe he may able to translate the message for us."

The servant bows and goes to do such. Otto had the rest of the council members dismissed in the event this was something that needed to be kept under wraps from the rest of the Keep.

"You sent for me, Your Grace?" Ivan speaks, lightly bowing. "I have," Alicent nods, handing Ivan the scroll, "this message came from the Continent. As a Continental yourself, I am hoping you have retained what languages you may have learned there so as to translate this message. For the Hand, for your queen...and for your king." Ivan looked to Alicent and to Otto and nodded as he unrolled the scroll, thankful that learning to read and write was also part of his knight training.

He recognize the language as it was one his mother had taught him before she died, and it was the language of his father's people. "Well? What does it say?" Otto questions, noticing the worrying looks on Ivan's face. "Oh, forgive me, Lord Hand," Ivan says before he translates the letter.

---------------Temeria: La Valette castle, present time-----------------

Aemma stood where she was, speechless and feeling all sorts of mixed emotions as she stared into the eyes of the man who was supposed to be the bane of hers and her father's existence. The man, she had been told had taken her mother away from her family.

The White Wolf...Geralt of Rivia...the Witcher....

Aemma clung to hilt of her sword, not sure what she should say or do. All those years in her childhood and adolescent she had dreamed of this day. She had dreamt all different kinds of scenarios of what she was going to do, what she would say, how she would've made the white hair witcher confess his crimes before she plunged her mother's silver dagger into his heart and before feeding his corpse to Cirillia. There had even been a scenario where Aemma would've burned his body herself before offering it to her dragon as she had believed then that he was not worth the trouble of being burned with dragon fire.

But now, given everything she had been told to the contrary from sources that were not her father, Aemma had never imagined a scenario where she would've just talked to the man...and ultimately spare his life and absolve him of the crimes he may not have actually committed. Aemma's hand began to shake, and she struggled to keep it under control.

"You...you're....you're him...Geralt of Rivia."

Foltest and the Blue Stripes stood there as the standoff continued, not sure what to do, and were curious as to how this was going to go down.

Aemma pulled out her dagger, somewhere in the middle of wanting to carry out her plan and fighting against it. Geralt stood there, feeling confused. This young woman knew him...but he didn't; even in his visions of the Wild Hunt, this individual was never present. Yet, she did look familiar, though Geralt couldn't figure out why.

"You...you know my mother," Aemma accuses, bringing the witcher's mind back to reality, "where is she? Where is my mother? What did you to the Lady of Larks?"

Once again, the present company exchanged looks at the mention of that name, some even whispering among them. "Princess Aemma?" Foltest speaks up, "did you say your mother was-" "The Lady of Larks!" Aemma ignores the Temerian king, keeping focus on the witcher, "what did you do to her?! Answer my question!"

"...I'm sorry," Geralt shakes his head, "I don't know what you are talking about." Aemma stood there, speechless, eyes wide, unable to understand it all. This man was a prominent figure in her mother's story...yet he did not seem to know this, "you...you don't remember her?" A single tear escaped the princess's eye, not able to comprehend that it was such a possibility.

In a fit of rage, Aemma charged at Geralt and pushed him down. The witcher, though surprised as anyone else, did not bother to defend himself, even when Aemma had the dagger at his throat. "What the fuck?" she hears Roche's voice.

"No! No! NO!" Aemma cries out, "you don't get to DO THIS! YOU DON'T GET TO FORGET MY MOTHER! NOT AFTER EVERYTHING SHE'S BEEN THROUGH! WHAT YOU'VE PUT HER THROUGH!!"

"I'm...I'm sorry," Geralt speaks in a regretful voice, "I don't-" Geralt suddenly had a vision of the past. It was back to the that time in Rivia, when he and (y/n) had supposedly died during the pogrom. They were taken to another place to some island, thanks to the help of...Ciri, yes, that's what happened. It had been paradise, though he could see (y/n)'s face, the sadness in her expressions; even during moments of happiness, she had this longing to return and reunite with...

The vision then turned to (y/n) being taken away from him...the Wild Hunt...they took her away from Geralt, and he needed to go and bring her back.

The moment of contemplation was cut short when Foltest's voice boomed, "Aemma, stop this madness!" the kings demands, "the witcher is with me! Whatever grievance you hold against him, you shall not harm him!"

"You can't forget her!" Aemma sobs out as more tears escape, "you just can't...I need to know where she is...I've waited so long for her to come back! I..." She dropped the long forgotten dagger as she pulled back and continued to sob. Geralt was at a loss about what do and the rest of the party had some awkward looks, not sure to console the poor woman. The witcher looked at Aemma, "your mother...(y/n), that was her, wasn't it?"

Aemma looked at the witcher again, nodding, "you remember?" "No...at least, not the parts you want me to remember," Geralt says standing up and helping Aemma to her feet, "It's a long story, and one I can't quite put together. But I do have some memories of (y/n)..."

A portal suddenly pops up and a woman with red hair comes out. "Geralt," she says, "you're alright and...who is this?" she turns to Aemma. "This, Merigold is princess Aemma from Westeros," Foltest announces, "I'm sure you know of that place." Tris' eyes widen the moment she heard that name, "Aem...Aemma?" She approaches the young woman, "Aemma, is...is it really you?" "Yes?" Aemma frowns at the woman in confusion. A smile on her face, Tris pulls Aemma in for an embrace, "Oh Aemma, it really is. My, you really have grown up, you look just like your mother." "You knew my mother? Wait who are you?" "Tris Merigold," Tris tells her, "I'm a mage, I serve the king." "Tris?!" Aemma's eyes widen, "I've...I've been looking for you," she says, "I have questions."

Tris nods and excuses herself and Aemma and escorts the young woman into a portal so the two can talk.

--------------meanwhile---------------

"The plan has been set into motion," the witcher of Gullet assures the Scoia'tel commander, "soon as the pieces will fall into place and Foltest will be out of the way."

"I know you have no wish for gold or anything else," Iorveth says, "but there is a change of plans." Letho raises an eyebrow at that. "Scouts have reported a new piece has been added to this game," the elf explains, "A Targaryen princess from Westeros. I don't know what you know of that place, but my people still hold grudge against the ruling family there for personal reasons. Do what you will to Foltest, and whoever will try to protect him, but I want you to bring me the girl. Alive. We need her as leverage. Whatever price you wish, we shall grant."

Letho was silent for a moment when he thinks on this, "keep what you have. The deal still remains. I will bring you the princess."

Unknown to the Woodland Fox, the presence of princess Aemma Targaryen had also become personal to the witcher.

--------------somewhere away from La Valette Castle---------

"How do you know me?" Aemma asks of the mage, "I...I don't remember us ever meeting before." "I wouldn't expect you to," Tris tells her, "you were just a baby. I met your mother when she first came to Kaer Morhen. I helped her through her labors when she fought to bring you to this world." "You...you helped deliver me as a newborn?" Aemma realizes, "but my mother...she came there on her own? Or was she forced to?" "What exactly were you told of your mother, Aemma?" Tris asks. Aemma looked away a bit before she answered, "my father...he used to tell me I was born on Dragonstone. My mother was later abducted by the witcher, by...by Geralt. He took her away from our family, and there was nothing father could do to bring her back."

Tris scoffed at that, something that didn't go unnoticed by Aemma. "Sorry," the mage says, "it's just...after seeing what your father was capable of, I have a hard time believing he couldn't have done anything to bring your mother back. Especially with the trouble and determination he had to take her away from Kaer Morhen the first time around." "He took me and my mother back to King's Landing from Kaer Morhen," Aemma says, "Vesemir told me, I uh, I found myself back at that place six years ago. I met the old man there, he's been training me with the sword and...he told me what happened when my father arrived on Caraxes. I...I want to know the truth, that's why I'm trying to find my mother, to rescue her from the Wild Hunt and hear the whole story from her."

"What do you know of the Wild Hunt?" Tris raises an eyebrow, wondering what a Westerosi would know of these beings that were considered Continental lore. "I...I've seen visions of them," Aemma explains, "I have this gift...it's similar to that one gift Ciri has." "Ciri?" "I've seen her in my visions," Aemma explains, "Ciri chasing after the Hunt. Vesemir also told me what happened to me, the spell, the one you used to subdue Ciri when she lost control of her powers."

Tris' eyes widen when she realized what happened, "Aemma, Ciri's gift...the spell, it must've transferred her powers to you." "I think so," Aemma confirms, "but it's not quite the same. I don't know why that is the case. That's why I wanted to find you. You were the sorceress who cast the spell, maybe you could tell me."

"I...it's been years, Aemma, but I shall do my best to find out what," Tris assures, "but with everything I have to do right now for King Foltest, it will have to wait. Until then, is there anything else you wish to know?" "The witcher," Aemma says, "he...why doesn't he remember my mother? How is that even possible?" "Geralt has amnesia," Tris explains, "he was abducted by the Wild Hunt along with your mother. He managed to escape, but it came at the cost of his memory. I've been working at trying to restore but...it's been difficult. He has dreams of the Wild Hunt every now and again, but nothing before that. I can't quite restore what isn't there, it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

Aemma sighed, "he's the only other person apart from my mother who could tell me the truth of my parent's relationship. I just want to know, I need to know for certain, without a doubt that everything my father told me was the truth...or all a lie." Tris placed a hand on Aemma's shoulder, "I don't exactly know what their relationship was," she admits, "but...I don't think it was a happy one, Aemma. When you find out, you may not like what you'll hear." Aemma looked to Tris, "you know something, do you?" "I...all I know is your mother was determined to get away from him," Tris says, sadness in her tone, "your father...it seemed he was dead set on keeping her close. A bird in a cage, you mother would say, that's how she felt when she was brought back to King's Landing or Dragonstone, or wherever in Westeros you father placed her."

Aemma felt her stomach turn, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to believe her father would treat her mother like that. But she knew her father could be quite possessive of what he felt belong to him. He didn't part with his possessions lightly, be it his dragon, his family, or anything that was part of the Valyrian ancestry.

"She did everything she could to come back to you," Tris tries to console, "she loved you very much. That's why she left in the first place." "Was...was she afraid my father would try and harm me?" "I don't know," Tris shakes her head, "I believe there may be more to this story then meets the eye, more then what your mother has chosen to disclose when she was still around."

Aemma stood up, "I need to talk to Geralt. When this conflict is over, you will help me?" "Yes," Tris nods, "I shall help you understand this gift you possess as well as help Geralt with his memory. We'll uncover the truth together." "One more thing," Aemma says, "My mother had a brother. I need to find him too, maybe he could provide insight to my parent's relationship." "Jaskier?" Tris realized, "Well last I checked, he was in some small fishing village in Aedirn. Once all this is over, I'll create a portal to take us there. You'll get to see your uncle again Aemma, I promise."

"Thank you, Tris." "It really was good to see you again, Aemma," the mage tells her, "I wish it was under different circumstances. You really do look so much like your mother. She would be proud to know what you have accomplished."

"I'll know for myself when I see her again," Aemma nods.

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

Aemma walked out the portal Tris opened up for her, leading her to the monastery where Foltest had just received information on the whereabouts of his children. The king, Roche, and Geralt were about to head back to the castle when Aemma ran into them.

"You again," Foltest states. "I have no intention of attacking the witcher again, your Majesty," Aemma assures, "I only wish to speak with him." "You can do that once I have reunited with my children," Foltest assures, "until then, he stays with me."

Before any protests could be made, the gold dragon that attacked them previously and had abducted Aemma had returned, swooping down, separating Roche from the rest of the group. Geralt helped Foltest to cross the bridge as the dragon chased them down. Aemma ran up and pulled her sword out to confront the dragon. The dragon surprisingly stopped in its tracks. "Lykiri, zaldritzes, lykiri!" Aemma speaks, not sure if she could even command this dragon, or if the dragon even understood her. The dragon stood its ground, merely staring at Aemma. Perhaps it did understand her. "Jikagon qrīdrughagon!" Aemma demands, feeling a little more confident, "Jikagon qrīdrughagon! Henujagon īlva mērī! (Go away! Leave us alone!)"

"Is she actually speaking to the dragon?" Foltest looked back, "Fuck me, Roche was right about her lot. Inbred dragon tamers, they are."

The dragon stared, then it growled, and charged once again. Aemma turned and ran, knowing it was not a good idea to reason with this dragon anymore. She ran to the end of the bridge and jumped through the door. The dragon tried to grab her again, but Geralt stepped in and stabbed the dragon, causing it to pull away, and the door closed. The dragon fled, roaring in agony as it did so.

"You saved my life," Foltest says, "both of you." "I was only vying for time, your Majesty," Aemma insists. "That language you were speaking to the dragon," the king says, "What was it?" "Valyrian," Aemma answers, "the language of my ancestors." Foltest nods and gestures for her and the witcher to follow.

Aemma kept her eyes on Geralt during this time. "How much do you remember of my mother?" she questions. "I...I see visions every now and again of (y/n)...her and the Wild Hunt." "Tris told me," Aemma nods, "she said she's trying to restore your memory. Can you promise me something then?" "What is it?" Once you remember...when you remember my mother. I want you to tell me everything. I need to know the truth. About you, about her...and about her relationship with my father. I don't want anything to be held back." "...I promise then...princess Aemma," Geralt nods.

Aemma still held on to some hope that her mother and father were happy together, but if what Tris told her was the truth, and if Geralt was the one who tried to help her mother get away...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of children playing and laughing, seemingly blissfully unaware of what had just occurred outside.

Twins, they were, Boussy and Anais. Foltest's children by the Baroness La Valette.

The children stopped playing the moment they see the king along with Geralt and Aemma. They run to hide behind another man that was present, a blind monk by the looks of it. Foltest has Geralt and Aemma stay behind so the man could greet his children without scaring them. Anais was first to approach, running to her father and embracing him. Boussy was a little more hesitant, but the monk insisted and the boy approached the king as well.

"What exactly is their relationship?" Aemma asks, feeling curious. "They're Foltest's children by the baron La Valette's wife," Geralt tells her, "the Baroness and Foltest had...some kind of disagreement between them, hence the reason for this civil war." "She was married to another man?" Aemma realized, "so they're...oh." "Foltest has already declared them legitimate," Geralt tells her, "he hopes his son will succeed as king someday."

Aemma felt glad that was the case; being bastard born herself, she could relate somewhat to the situation. Her own father was married when her mother and him coupled and conceived her in the process after all. She could only hope they won't be treated as pariahs, that the king will protect these two from slander as her uncle protected her cousin's sons.

It may have been Aemma's imagination, but when she saw the monk look up, she almost thought he was looking towards her specifically. She brushed it out of her mind when Foltest sent his children to the other room, insisting Boussy wash his face so the others outside won't see that the boy had been crying; he is to be a king after all, and kings don't cry.

Once the children were out of sight, the monk placed a hand on Foltest's shoulder, "Sire, let us pray." "They must look like the royal children that they are," Foltest insists as he walks past the monk. "Hmmm...they have your eyes sire," the monk whispers as he removes the wrappings around his eyes to reveal the gold irises that were similar to Geralt's.

Aemma walk to approach the king, hoping he would give the order to dismiss Geralt so she and him could talk properly over what he did remember. But little did she know, the monk snuck up on her from behind and covered her mouth and nose with a chloroform soaked cloth, causing her to pass out. "Apologies, princess," the monk, who was actually Letho in disguise says as he approaches the king, "this has become personal."

It all happened so quickly. The tall, bulky witcher pulled out his dagger and slit Foltest's throat, blood spilling out. Geralt ran over, having realized earlier that the monk was actually an assassin, but it was too late. The deed was done. Letho threw the king's body at Geralt before he pulled off his monk robes and grabbed an unconscious Aemma, slinging her over his shoulder.

Geralt ran after the man, but Letho jumped over a window and seemingly fall to his death. Geralt stood at the window, seeing no signs of Letho or Aemma down below, it was almost like they disappeared.

Geralt then ran to see to Foltest, who laid dead as the blood pooled around. The Temerian soldiers showed up, crossbows armed and pointed at Geralt, believing he was the one who committed this horrendous act. No way to escape, and no one to vouch for him, Geralt was left with no other option then to turn himself in.

-------------King's Landing: several weeks later-------------

Ivan read through the letter once more time before he translated for the Queen and the Hand:

To the King of the Seven Kingdoms across the Great Sea,

Your family's wrongdoings have gone on long enough these last twenty years. Twenty years of no peace, and no accountability. But that finally ends now. The Aen Seidhe call for justice for the dozens of brothers and sisters that were needlessly murder by dragon fire at the hands of Prince Daemon Targaryen.

We have one of your own in our custody, the princess Aemma Targaryen. She resides with the Scoia'tel in a secret encampment outside of Flotsam in Upper Aedirn. She remains unharmed and alive, and her maidenhead has not been defiled, and will remain this way for as long as we will it.

Produce us Prince Daemon, have him brought before us to confess his crimes and see to it that justice will finally be served and that our fallen brethren will at long last be put to rest. Only then shall we see fit to release the princess Aemma afterwards. You have two months to complete this task; should you delay, we shall have the princess brought back slowly in pieces. If you doubt our threats, you will find a lock of her hair attached to this letter, so you know we are telling the truth, for we know it is the dhione's nature to doubt the words of others.

Make haste, for some of my comrades wish to carry out justice already by silting Aemma's throat, and I cannot hold them back for much longer.

-Iorveth, Commander of the Scoia'tel

Chapter 38

#hotd #the witcher #ciri #triss merigold #vernon roche #letho of gulet #iorveth #oc #saskia #foltest #daemon targaryen #geralt of rivia

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wretchedmosses · 9 months

Text

Cycle

I woke up at 9 today, but I left my bed at 11. It always seems to happen that way. I just lay there until my hours are gone. Hoping noone sees me, that I'll be left well enough alone for a little bit if I don't move much, that things will be quiet and I can sleep. Eventually, I do get up, though.

My head is heavy. I feel weak, there's something gummy between the ears. That means I haven't eaten enough. My hair feels greasy as I touch it, I haven't showered in a little while. Maybe a few days. Those are both better than they used to be, I think. There isn't much in the house, so I start to make some toast. My father is awake now, he comes to show me the news he found today.

Malaria and dengue fever are running rampant in our home state, and the podcasters he likes have mixed feelings about the Barbie movie. cool.

The toaster pops at me loudly, insistently. I don't remember putting the bread in. Guess I got absorbed in his talking. These things he talks about have a way of biting. I think as I work in the kitchen, think about the danger we're in. The money I've made and spent and it feels like on nothing in particular, but I don't know if I'd be here if I hadn't spent it and I don't know how much longer I could go on making it. The new workplace is crushing me with nerves. I've never worked an office before, these new people are terrifying and they expect me to speak to them. It's only been a week and I don't know if I feel better or worse than I did at the last job, or during the time between. Everything seemed dim and hopeless then, but it's not that it doesn't now. I guess what I really wanted was something to take the time off my hands. So they'd stop shouting me down for my hobbies, so I'd be a real adult. Do I feel adult?

Oh, the toast is jellied and plated. I could make some tea or coffee, but my teeth are getting worse. I should be saving for my first dental appointment, but I have a whole list of stuff to save for, and I still haven't decided how I'll budget, have I? I guess I'll put that on the list today.

It's a big list now. I don't know if that's good.

The tasks seem to fill a gap there for a while, but I'll feel bad when not all of it is done, won't I? It's all so important, too. To someone else or to me, and few in betweens. It doesn't feel very adult for a to-do list to be so thoughtful and crushing. They're not very outlandish tasks for my age or anything.

I'm sitting to eat now, and I haven't even written any of my tasks down. I'm starting to lose them already. What did I just say I'd add?

I've eaten, and I'm not in so much pain or exhaustion when I stand. My head still feels wrong, but it's been a while since it felt right. Maybe the shower will do it. Or the water, or the tasks. I don't know how I can be so strong to think about other tasks when it's so hard to take care of myself already.

Is that strength? Is that adulthood? I don't feel strong. I don't feel grown.

I wish there had been more time, but I don't rue how I spent it. I was happy in those days. I didn't know the sun well then, but with it missing, I miss it so badly now. It's sunny, but my sky is dark.

In a week I won't remember today. I'll pity my past self for thinking it was so bad then. Or maybe I'll weep for the state I was in. I can't see the bottom, I can't even feel if I've hit it. Maybe that's why I feel sick, and my head is reeling. I hope I've gone as low as I can. There might still be hope of reaching the surface again.

I'm going to have my shower. I'll drink my water, play a game. I have a meetup with my friends tomorrow, and with my DND group today. That thought makes me smile a little. Maybe I'll go for a walk, too. It's not good to be inside so long, my freckles are fading. I'm sure my dad won't like that, but I don't want to think about that. There's a happy picture at the end of the line. I think I can make that a scene from my life. Maybe it's just a matter of the effort I put in. I haven't got much left in my bones, but for joy, I'll lift with my whole back.

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sarah-dipitous · 1 year

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 22

We're at the Season 1 penultimate episode for both of these series (and I guess the next Sherlock episode I watch is ALSO the Season 1 penultimate episode, but like...that's a three episode season. We won't even SEE Jim til almost March :( )

"Salvation"

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: If the first five minutes are just sitting through a recap of the last 20 episodes? I can survive sitting through that (but I won't be happy about it). Nevermind, seems like we're getting a real first five minutes. Know what? I'd let Meg kill me. If she's gonna do it anyway, might as well make it my choice or something.

I relish Winchester infighting. There's been so much of it this season and it's so good even if a little pointless. And now there's three to fight with each other??

What a wonderful name for a midwest town to wrap this season up in: Salvation, Iowa. Damn.

So, I think I'd be more...invested in this whole "Pastor Jim is dead and that's hitting too close to home for the Winchesters" if, you know, the first time we met him it wasn't when Meg slashed his throat open.

It's kind of convenient that Sam has psychic visions at just the right times.

I'm. No. SIR! NO. Disrespectfully, no. You fucking DISAPPEARED, you don't get to tell Dean that if something weird starts happening with Sam, that you need to be told IMMEDIATELY. Fuck that noise. Stop it. Do not make me laugh. I'll fucking do it.

I paused before Dean got his say in, and OH MAN. YES, Dean!!! Nah, bitch, you don't get to abandon your kids and OCCASIONALLY leave cryptic messages, but then tell them you don't like the tone they're taking with you. Nu uh.

Oh. Okay. Her picking off John's friends one by one is, frankly, delicious. I should not be this attracted to her right now. I really do just love when villains

I...am truly heartbroken over what John wants for his sons. He wants Sam to be able to go back to school, which is nice and fine. He should get to follow his dreams. But then he says "I want Dean to have a home." And that's one of those moments you realize how much Dean has lacked for so much of his life. Sam had Stanford for all the time he was there, and he would have likely had a settled life, but DEAN? (I'm shifting into my "Being Broken Hearted Dean and Touya At the Same Time For Similar Reasons" mode)

I *DON'T* like the boys (*coughsamcough*) trying to say good bye "in case something happens," even if I do get it.

John IS smart though. Smart even if he's reckless. The boys, a little less so. Or the father of the family they're trying to protect is also...very protective, as he should be. Two guys in their mid-twenties just broke into their house in the middle of the night. Usually, they build a better rapport with whomever they're trying to save. Guess they didn't really have the time today.

Oh shit. Dean got that baby out not a moment too soon.

I mean, we had to know they weren't going to get the demon tonight.

Dean just doesn't want to lose the only two people he has, and those two people seem to be a-okay with just throwing their lives away, sacrificing themselves for this cause. I'm distraught.

"Been On My Mind...": No. And I didn't expect to with all plot that's happening

"Bad Wolf"

This is such a fun and weird way to enter the episode: the Doctor being sucked into some future form of the show Big Brother. And Rose is on The Weakest Link (does that even exist anymore?? Does it have actual new episodes on the Game Show Network or is it just reruns? Do they even have reruns of it anymore?)

You gotta love Jack's confidence "Ladies, your viewing figures just went up"

I think this bit would have been maybe funnier back in '06? Now it's just...I dunno. It's not hitting like it's probably supposed to. It's probably supposed to be a mix of funny and horrifying? But the whole Weakest Link part is now just horrifying....seventeen years later.

Don't tell me she gets vaporized too...wtf.

Finally. Some development.

(I feel bad because I remember liking this episode a lot more in the past.)

I shouldn't laugh because it's not actually funny (or it is in a grim way). But the actual news getting shut down and then governments collapsing because of that and the rise of all of these inane yet extremely dangerous game shows and reality tv shows...feels poignant for some reason.

Rose's disintegration doesn't hit as hard when you know she's not actually dead. Or at least she comes back.

I even SAW the daleks in the preview the other day and forgot they were coming back for this episode.

This episode was what would have been a lot of confusion in the first half (if this weren't a rewatch) and set up in the second half, so there wasn't a lot to say, sadly.

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023 #in which i (to my surprise still) have much more to say about spn again

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ill-heart · 2 years

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Heal my soul before I die

‘Kay... I never thought I write something so explicit between Dar and Salim but here I come, I guess.

This Hoathememonth is gonna be the end of me, I swear.

Hope you will be enjoying it anyway, it’s shorter than what I wrote during these last weeks but I’m kinda proud of it anyway!

TW: Explicit death

When blood flowed out of his mouth like an endless fountain, Dar knew what fate would await him. His fingers twitched in pain on a corpse, as a pathetic whine followed the red river; the one which sealed his death. All sort of noises surrounded him, and his ears were about to exploded; too much pressure rested on it. The demons’ screams melted with loud exclamations from a language he didn’t speak, bones shattered all around as torches creaked at his side. His vision became blurry, as he felt his own mind diving away; in a lake of tremendous pain, redden by his own blood.

“D…!”

His eyes abruptly shut as another whimper escaped his dirty lips. His thoughts mixed memories with apprehension for his future, replayed the attack and the horror which crushed him seconds ago. A creature grabbed him; a ferocious and disgusting being dug his dark nails into him.

“Da…!... ar!...”

He should have listened.

He should have listened to Salim when he got the chance to.

But instead, his pride pushed his loyal friend away and spitted his poison on him. His stupid and stubborn pride made him run into a losing battle.

Now, Allah was punishing his fearless behavior with his vengeful hands.

“DAR!”

As he managed to open his eyelid once again, Dar saw a friendly shape kneeling at his side. He recognized Salim, even though his vision remained fuzzy. His comrade’s hands closed around his shoulders before their hands attempted to slow down the hemorrhage. Useless.

“You were… Right.” He admitted between two helpless cries, as his hands grabbed the other’s man uniform and hanged up on it. “You were right about… The demons…”

“Don’t talk.” Salim’s trembling voice ordered. Despite the pain killing drowning him, Dar heard his friend’s despair louder than anything else. The demons’ fury almost disappeared when he felt a warm and fearful breath against his cold cheeks. “Don’t talk while I am saving you.”

“Too… Late.” Basri’s eyes looked at the man upon them. They knew Salim’s round face by heart, fancied the beauty of its gentle curves and imperfections, envied the woman who had laid hundreds of kisses on its hot and tempting skin.

When he came to the man’s house this afternoon, Dar’s mind hoped to ravish him for good. He might claim him and banished his sinful wife and son away. But Allah didn’t let him.

Maybe he was the sinful one after all. Maybe God chose death for him, because he deserved it. He deserved it for being hungry for a man’s body and moans, for a soul he shouldn’t have loved in the first place, for the thoughts of Salim and him laying in the same bed.

“Stay with me, Dar!” His lieutenant’s command stopped his eyelid from closing.

His pupils stared at the round face once more, then his hands violently grabbed Salim’s shoulders. What gave him the strength of hugging the man and kissing him with possessiveness? He didn’t know. However, what he knew was that his friend’s tasted like Heaven despite the blood and the saliva flowing from his own mouth.

Salim’s grip fainted, before Dar fell on the ground once again. Death caught up with him as the scenery became distant. Bit by bit the pain seemed vain, like a long-gone souvenir, but he couldn’t let go now. Not before he heard Salim says…

“Say you… You love me.” Dar begged with a low voice.

His fingers gripped on the other man’s wrist as he asked one last time. “Say you love me.”

His whispers transformed into a silent echo, as he felt one last thing.

Salim warm and reassuring breath against his ears singing: “I love you, Dar. I love you.”

#hoathememonth #hoathememonth22 #injurymay2022 #dar basri #salim othman #dar basri/salim othman #I guess everyone enjoyement for Dar gave me ideas #*cough cough* but not joyful ones #more like knives in the heart #writing

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hellshee · 2 years

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I've seen your recent anons and replies. Mistakes can happen, I agree. However, some of them could have been easily avoided if the Duffers kept track or notes. I don't want to beat the dead horse, but them mixing up Billy/William on the gravestone and forgetting Will's birthday is a pretty lazy and serious error. Billy & Will are not my favourites, but I like them in the narrative and I care about the whole puzzle. So I expect good writing on all characters, even the ones I don't care much about. They are still important pieces and messing up such details however tiny they might seem makes me lose faith in them as writers. I like so many other made the biggest assumptions and theories based on these 2 details. Billy/William is in a short trailer for God's sake! And Will's birthday was mentioned by Joyce in a pivotal scene to try and save Will. During El's bullying scene they chose to show that date exactly on the camera recorder screen. It's normal everyone made theories. So when it turns out those were just mistakes oh oopsie, it feels like a slap in the face. I was so worried, too, because I couldn't believe Joyce or Jonathan would ever forget Will's birthday.

Sorry for prolonging but this is careless for me. I may have closed and eye or two on other things, but this is too much. I lost faith on the writers and am scared for season 5.

Also certain writing choices annoy me, and I haven't even talked about Mike's senseless monologue yet.

don't get me wrong, i think everyone is entitled or allowed to be critical of the writing the duffer brothers put out. and i do understand why messing up / forgetting details can be frustrating to fans, myself included at times. and furthermore, i understand why that creates anxiety for s5. people care about this show very much, that is pretty obvious, so i get why it's an issue. and the duffer brothers should also realize that just because the show got so big doesn't mean they shouldn't still try their best.

but i guess at the end of the day it's a question of whether or not as an individual you can still enjoy the show while knowing all of this.

i'll be honest, because of some of the mistakes + choices made this season that i do not particularly agree with, i also have my fears for s5, and my expectations are a bit lower, but there are still a lot of things i love about it and i'm curious to see where it goes.

i'm gonna be honest about one thing regarding mike wheeler's storyline with eleven this season (tho i do wanna say to anyone reading this that while i'll reblog a post or two which kind of makes fun of mike, this is not anti mike blog so do not come in my inbox with negativity like that because i will not reply to you): i do not think they should have waited till s4 to deal with a "mike can't tell el he loves her due to not being able to express himself because he didn't really have the best of models in his life"

i feel like by season 4, this should have been dealt with. like i think it's sweet that mike was there for her and encouraged her to fight when she needed the confidence, but i also feel like eleven seeing max like that should have been enough.

idk i'm also trying not to nitpick. clearly i wasn't a fan of the way they handled both mileven and byler this season and i thought we'd find mike in a better place than the "it's not my fault you don't like girls" thing he had with will last season because i'm still clueless as to why he made that hug weird in episode 1 but who knows, maybe they're foreshadowing something in s5. or maybe their intention with that scene didn't translate well enough to people in the audience like me.

from what we gather later, they didn't talk that much the past year with mike mostly talking to eleven, but i still don't see that as a reason for mike to make that hug awkward.

anyway bottom line is i get those things can be frustrating, but at the same time there's not really much to do when you're in the audience

#💌 answered 💌#anonymous #long post #stranger things discourse #for anyone who wants to block it

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vitaminwaterreviews · 5 months

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Isak N Jiyeon - Tell Me Baby

Average of 7.1, and that kind of speaks for itself. Definitely my favorite overall out of the groups so far. The vocals were genuinely so good, in other groups I felt like they were hiding behind the mixing a bit, definitely not in this one. Their sound did start to get predictable by the end, and I still have no idea who Mr. Unnamed Rapper is, but that aside, I liked them a lot. They even got me to enjoy some of their slow jams, and that doesn’t happen often. Plus, this group is actually on Spotify, which means I can save their songs to my playlist (and I think I’ll do that for a few of them!). Their music never felt quite as repetitive as the others, and I think that helped a lot. Even though it got a bit predictable, there was enough variance that I couldn’t predict everything. If you’re gonna listen to one of these 1st gen girl groups, I highly highly suggest this one.

Come Back to Me

Love this intro

I’ve been told this is an r&b duo, and so far we are definitely r&b

This “here we go” is cool

Did they just burp in my ear?

I guess they’re going to continue burping in my ear, that’s awkward

Tasteful autotune

Mixing in the chorus is maybe a bit odd

Oh look a random male rapper, how fitting

8/10, This could totally get stuck in my head

Tell Me Baby

Why does this feel like a Red Velvet song

A bit slower and slow jammy, and we know I don’t care much for that

The timbres themselves make it way better than Sinvi at least

Yeah, you can tell this is early kpop because of how ballady the title track feels

The bridge was super impressive vocally

7/10 purely because it’s better than Shinvi in like, every way

One

Prominent bass

Counting to four!

Omg we’re counting past four

I wonder how high we can go!

Eight! We can go up to eight!

Dude this bass Exists

Oh okay, the counting to eight is the chorus, I thought it might be just an intro thing

Ooh this bridge with the water droplets is super fun

And it bleeds into a rap verse! That was so neat I liked that

Or is this part the bridge? Really it’s like there are two types of verses

9/10, this was so fun, I wasn’t sure at first but it totally won be over

The Sign

Back to slow jam land I guess

Oh my god, there was a time when they used this type of electric piano unironically?

6/10

The Way I Love U

I guess it’s gonna alternate uptempo and downtempo songs

Opening with a random male rapper

But the vocals overtop his rap are super fun

Alternating male and female rap lines, that’s fun

Mmm people singing over a rap beat is totally my style

Dude this guy has so many lines?? He’s literally doing a third of the song!

8/10, I quite enjoyed the addition of Mr. Unnamed Rapper

Everything For You

That high note was SO good, fading into the guitar, mmm

This outro section with the ad libs is SO good too

7/10, the first half was meh but the last part totally made up for it

Easy Come Easy Go

This is totally jarring compared to what I just listened to lol

There’s a bit going on in this song but it’s just not that interesting to me?

It’s kinda dark and it has pretty vocals but yeah it’s just not the vibe

6/10

Bad, Good Thing

Why does this intro feel kinda Nmixxy to me?

Does this have choreo? Some choreo synchronized to those hits would go hard

The chanting chorus is nice and spooky

Actually, this group feels kind of Red Velvet in general. Obviously Velvet RV

This would be really fun to sing along to

7/10, kinda not sure what to make of this song, I feel like I should listen to it again

My Wish

This group loves to have sudden stops in melodic lines

Ugh, I want to dislike this song but the vocals are genuinely so pretty

I do take issue with just how much falsetto there is in general, could go for a bit less

Tasteful outro, very much like Everything For You

7/10

Double

This group uses silence really well. Like, they cut out the vocals or the background music or the bass or the drums or whatever with good effect

More Unnamed Male Rapper

Actually, this guy has appeared so much on this album I kinda wanna find him

Well he doesn’t appear on the Wikipedia, sooo I dunno

7/10

I Don’t Know How

Speaking of I dunno…

I like how urgent the bass and the drums are, contrast with vocals and guitar

The chorus is so standard for this group

Holy shit we got the “tick tock you don’t stop” sample I’m crying

6/10, this is the first song where I felt like I could predict the whole thing, not ideal

Pray For You

“What a friend we have in Jesus,” wow, this is Rather Christian

The only other Christian kpop song I know is Kingdom Come, I guess?

Still, it’s surprisingly catchy

7/10, kind of a weird end to the album but I’ll take it

#album #kpop #Isak N Jiyeon

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moonrisecalamityretreat · 11 months

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Our Boxed Garden | Miyazaki | Trial 6.6 | Re: Loic, Mikazuki, Hanji, Maxime

Still he breathes still he moves as the devil breathes down his back yet again. Those claws wrapping around his shoulder and neck. Whispering in his ear the things that need to be said. Miyazaki could never silence the devil. It was too loud…though actually…Miyazaki was the devil the whole time wasn’t he? The one whispering in his ear has always been divinity.

He tilts his head in Loic’s direction with that same small smile thrown at him with an empty chuckle.

“Ahaha…you’ll understand one day I think.”

He lets himself turn back into the puppet sheep and stands straight as he prepares himself for the rest.

“Mmm…I think you’re mistaken, Mr. Knight. Or…do you want me to call you Mr. Archambeault? I just don’t want to get you and your brother mixed up. Either way, you are mistaken in the relationship that Hajime and The Shepherd have. They are far from actual lovers.”

He runs his finger over Diabelle’s ear, circling it lightly with his fingertip.

“You see…Hajime was always a very…troubled person. He had AEDS before I met him and I wanted to help him but…I wasn’t able. I wasn’t equipped or mature enough to really know how to help…and we couldn’t go to anyone or they would’ve taken him away. The Shepherd came along and behind my back…manipulated that troubled nature of Hajime’s. They taught him to embrace the suffering that love always brought him…And Hajime tried to deliver that onto me. I…didn’t accept it…and in seeking love he turned to The Shepherd…You see…Hajime…his mind is shattered and beyond saving. After what The Shepherd did to him, he lives forever in the delusion of The Shepherd’s love…He will…never be Hajime ever again…and The Shepherd will never actually love him…But as long as they keep Hajime on a chain…he’ll do whatever The Shepherd wants…anything to try and prove his delusional love to them. And hope…for something that will never happen.”

Miyazaki…there is a hint…of something in his expression that didn’t feel like a doll reciting lines. A glimmer in his eye that was quickly extinguished with a blink. The last question…he turns from Loic to Mikazuki.

“And what if I do give you a straight answer, Soma-san? Would it change anything? Regardless of whether my reactions to Doigawa-san’s death…and my friendship with you…Regardless of whether it was truth or lie…I have betrayed you and you should hate me for it. It’s not what The Shepherd might do to me…It is what they will do to me.”

He cringes at the mention of…Pachi-chan.

“The others…well…this is the Homecoming…”

He believes that that word speaks for itself on where the Lambs are. Miyazaki supposes that next he has to turn to them…to the one whose expression he doesn’t want to see. The one who he feels…maybe the slightest bit of shame towards. He puts on a smile though…as fake as it is. It is there.

“Yes, that elitist piece of shit academy. Hope’s Peak Academy…The Academy that is the origin point of everything…Even this killing game has its roots in Hope’s Peak Academy...For more than just because The Shepherd was inspired by those previous games.”

He chuckles at that…oh Hope’s Peak Academy…hopefully when this final game is over it’s reach into the future will end. It’s bloody legacy can finally end…

“Otsuka’s voice…that would be the first one. The second…that was the character I made from him. And the third, maybe I was just trying out other traits? It really doesn’t matter. As for those logs…I’ll let you all believe whatever you’d like to believe.”

Miyazaki’s expression glazes over at the mention again of those logs…Those damned logs…

“As you can guess now, The Shepherd was with me when I dated Hajime. Maybe our connection does expand past just one year. But how far back it actually reaches? Early teens? Childhood? Who can actually say? What do you all think?”

He turns the question back on them. But he does have one final thing to say to Hanji.

“Hmmm…I guess the answer would’ve been in that brochure had it not been desecrated. I guess I can tell you that…The one who built the ARK is the one that built the theme park, the museum, everything that The Shepherd used for the game. Though…that wasn’t the original intention of anything that was built…they just used it for this game.”

And where to next? Maxime…He can’t help but plaster that smile on his face again. These Archambeaults…

“I’d be happy to answer whatever questions you would like to pose I really don’t mind. Hmhm. That backstory…I guess there are many I could’ve come up with but I wanted to get creative. I got the idea from some book I read awhile back…nothing big really.”

He moves from that question and onto the next.

“Yes, one of the volunteers indeed had AEDS. I don’t have AEDS though if that’s what you’re thinking. As for Otsuka-san…where we killed him? I guess I can’t really remember all that well…It didn’t particularly stick out in my mind. His body however was taken when the Lambs cleaned out the facility of the doctor’s bodies. Where he is now? I really couldn’t tell you.”

He shrugs his shoulders loosely at the simple thought as he gives Diabelle more head scritches.

“No, I didn’t infiltrate the facility until I came with the rest of the Lambs. As I’ve said, The Shepherd was the one that infiltrated Happy Smiles with you all. The two of us however remained in contact through their time there. I was waiting for them to essentially give the signal for the game to begin with you all as the victims.”

#ch6 #jinpachi

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himemeika · 3 years

Text

Did I just accidentally start his boss battle?? Perhaps. And do I know anything about fighting him? Fuck no

#But he looks pretty impatient. I'm sure he has no mercy when he's mad.#oh boy. My party is only 3 levels higher than the recommended..#agh I wanted to change K/aeya's artifiacts bc his elemental mastery is literally zero but. Bursts heal him..#Guess maybe I should mix his up a bit. He saved me last time. when I had to fight BIG CUBE #I just. NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING #.txt #Nick.txt #Nick talks too much #Vamppostz

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petersspidey · 3 years

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Laundry Day

Summary: Y/N needs help carrying her laundry down to the laundry room and Bucky steps in to save the day. But he also has a load of his own ;)

Warnings: a lot of smut

Word Count: 3154 (its so long wtf)

MASTERLIST

Sometimes you hated Tony.

Like when he was overly cocky, and almost ruining your missions but somehow coming out the hero. Or when he tells the team something you didn't want all of them to know.

But you have never hated him more than when he put the laundry in the basement of the Avengers compound. You argued with him when he was first building it. He put your room on the top floor in the furthest possible wing from the laundry and unlike almost all of the Avengers you did not have super strength. So carrying your laundry across the entire building and down eight flights was not exactly easy.

So every two weeks you would spend 15 minutes just getting your dirty laundry from your room down to the laundry room, cursing Tony's name every time.

So there you were, the second Sunday of every month leaving your room, with an overflowing basket of laundry in your hand. As soon as you opened your door it felt like you ran into a brick wall. You toppled backward landing on your ass, and you had completely dropped your basket. Your clothes had spilled everywhere.

You sighed, and looked up.

"Sorry, Y/N." Bucky said

He bent down, starting to help you pick up your clothes.

"It's ok," you sighed, joining him in placing everything back into the basket.

"What were you doing standing outside my room anyway?" you asked

"I wasn't standing outside your room … I just happened to be walking past right as you opened your door."

You laughed, "ok Buck. Whatever you say."

He huffed in frustration. You always knew how to get under his skin, but he also knew how to get under yours.

Bucky helped you pick up the last few items of your laundry, when he held up something in front of your face.

You black lace thong. Your eyes widened, and you quickly snatched it from his hands.

You quickly threw the last things into your basket, and stood up.

"Well, thanks for the help. I gotta go."

You tried to get out of there as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burning red over the fact that Bucky just had your dirty underwear in his hand. But, your basket once again held you back. You lifted it, but had to walk slowly, barely able to see over the top of the mountain of clothes.

"Do you need some help?" Bucky asked, watching you walk away

"Nope. I'm good," you yelled back.

Bucky eyed you for a second, before turning to walk away. You continued down the hall, slowly making your way to the elevator. After barely making it anywhere. You placed the basket down for a moment, resting your arms. You stretched your back, and before you could bend down again to scoop up your basket Bucky was standing beside you, reaching down to grab it.

"I said I didn't need help," you said

"Yeah, and as much fun as it was watching you struggle to carry this and need to take a break five seconds in, I figured I'd just lend you a hand," he said

"Well it's not my fault I'm not a supersoldier like you," you muttered

Bucky chuckled and started walking down the hall toward the elevator.

"You carry this by yourself every week? How do you go through so many clothes?" he asked

"Well, every other week. But, yes."

"And! This is not an abnormal amount of clothes for two weeks, thank you very much." you continued

"You know, if you did laundry every week you might not have such an issue getting down to the laundry room." Bucky said, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever, Barnes."

"You're just upset because you know I'm right."

As you approached the elevator, you pressed the button and Bucky put your laundry down.

"Thanks, I think I've got it from here," you said.

The elevator doors opened, and once again, before you could grab your basket Bucky managed to get a hold of it first.

"Really, Bucky. It's ok I'll be fine from here."

"Are you forgetting about the long hallway downstairs?" He said, stepping onto the elevator with your clothes.

You huffed, and followed him on.

"I'm a big girl. I can do it myself."

The doors closed and you began to descend.

"Oh don't get your little lacy panties in a twist, I wasn't doing anything else I don't mind giving you a hand." Bucky said, smirking at you, knowing exactly how you'd react.

Your face became red again.

"Don't talk about my underwear."

"If you don't want me talking about your underwear maybe you should move the hot pink g-string that you have sitting at the top of your basket."

You lightly gasp, and reach over, pulling the pair off the top and shoving them down the side of your basket.

Bucky chuckled again. Knowing he was embarrassing you.

The elevator stopped, and you both stepped off into the basement, heading down the long hall to the laundry room.

"You must've done something to make Tony mad if he put your room so far from the laundry."

"I'm fully convinced he just likes to cause me problems. He probably has FRIDAY watching me on the cameras. I do not doubt one bit that he laughs at me hauling this downstairs twice a month."

Bucky laughed at your statement.

You smiled back at him. You don't see him smile much. It was a good change.

You turn the corner with Bucky. You could see the laundry room door at the end of the hall now. The two of you walk silently until you reach the door. You open it, and Bucky walks in in front of you and places your basket full of clothes down in front of one of the washers.

"Thanks for helping me. Would've taken me twice as long to get down here if I was by myself."

"It's no problem. It's always fun to show off my strength to a pretty lady."

"Oh so I'm a pretty lady?" you teased

Bucky blushed.

You smirked, and opened the washing machine lid. You began loading your clothes in. Bucky stood near you, leaning on the dryer right beside.

"You don't have to wait down here with me," you told him

"I figured I'd just wait and walk back upstairs with you."

"It's really ok, Buck. I usually just hang out down here until my loads are done. It's only a 30 minute cycle."

"Well maybe I'll just hang out down here with you…" Bucky said, as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Sure, I guess. If you really want to."

You filled up one machine, and threw the detergent in, shutting the lid. You moved over to another machine and began putting in a second load.

You heard Bucky chuckling, and turned around to look at him.

"What?" you questioned

"You have so many clothes that you have to use two washing machines." He said, shaking his head.

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever Barnes. It's because unlike you, I don't wear the same Henley's and jeans every day."

"No, you wear different coloured thongs every day." he teased

You finished placing all the laundry in the machine, and left your basket on the floor.

You walked back toward where Bucky was standing and jumped up onto one of the empty machines, sitting on the lid.

"You really just sit down here on top of a dryer waiting by yourself? You know there's a table and chairs right there." Bucky said

"Usually, yeah. Sometimes I bring a book down, but it's nice and quiet down here…" you started

"Well, usually I'll sit on top of one of the washing machines that I'm using, and not the empty dryer," you added, knowing exactly what you were insinuating.

Bucky's eyes shot up to you. "What?" he asked, thinking he hadn't heard you right.

"You heard me." you confirmed

"Well, alright. So why aren't you sitting on one of those today?"

"Well, usually only something I do while I'm down here alone."

"Don't be shy, doll."

Something about the way Bucky said doll, made you squirm. You hesitated for a second before you got off the dryer, and walked toward the machine that you had just turned on, climbing on top of it. You sat, letting your legs hang over the edge, eyes on Bucky.

The vibrations from the machine were shooting through you, pulsating right to your center. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You could hear Bucky walking closer, he lightly spread your legs and stood in between them. You opened your eyes. Bucky's face was inches from yours. He leaned in closer, taking either side of your face in his hands. You expected his metal hand to be cold against your face, but it was almost as warm as his other.

He looked you in the eyes, before bringing your face towards his, pressing a sloppy kiss against your mouth (ok but think Endings, Beginnings kiss - his character with Shailene Woodly). You leaned into the kiss, opening your mouth more, allowing him to slide his tongue inside. You wrapped your legs around his back, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could. The vibrations from the machine, still sending pulses right to your core.

You could already feel yourself getting more wet by the second. Bucky's mouth on yours mixed with the feeling of the machine below you. You needed more. You ran your hands down Bucky's body, reaching underneath his shirt to feel his skin. Bucky ran his hands over you, one of his fingers grazing against you hard nipple poking through your shirt. You moaned into his kiss.

Bucky slid his hands under your shirt and began lifting it. You raised your arms over your head, allowing him to take your shirt off. You broke your kiss as he lifted your shirt over your head. He stared at your bare chest as he threw your shirt to the side. You pulled him close, shoving your lips back against his.

His hands roamed your bare back, holding you tight against him. He began kissing down your neck, toward your chest. You leaned back on your hands, allowing him easier access to your hard nipples.

You moaned, and allowed your head to fall back as he swirled his tongue around your breast. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your jeans, undoing the zipper. He pulled away, and urged you to lift up your bottom so he could rip your jeans from your legs.

He tossed them aside, and looked at you sitting in only your underwear. He smirked, seeing how wet they were.

"Granny panties?" he questioned

"Shut up, all my good pairs are in the laundry." you said, taking your panties off yourself, leaving you completely exposed. He stood, looking at you, enjoying the sight. You looked down and saw his cock fighting against the zipper of his jeans.

Bucky groaned before touching you.

"Lie down," he ordered, placing one hand on your chest, getting you to lie your back completely flat on the machine.

You twitched as your bare back hit the cold metal of the washer, before settling in.

You looked down at Bucky, just as he was bending over placing a long lick against your slit. You moaned loudly, not expecting him to do that. He looked up at you as he placed another lick, taking in your wetness.

He saw the look of ecstasy on your face and took it as a sign to keep going. He dove into your pussy, face first. You gasped, and arched your back, only pressing your wetness deeper into Bucky's face. Bucky teased you, leaving small, gentle strokes along your clit.

You wrapped your legs tight around his head, "stop teasing me," you begged

You could feel him smirk, "anything for you, doll."

Bucky began pressing his tongue harder against your clit. Moving it up, down, and in circles. You moaned loudly, your grip tightening on his hair.

The vibrations from the machine and his tongue on you were too much. You began thrusting up against his face. You wanted nothing more than him inside of you.

"Buck, please." you moaned

Bucky brought one of his hands up toward your breast. He kneaded it in his hand as his tongue dove around your pussy. He flicked your hard nipple between his fingers. You cried out in pleasure. You could feel your orgasm building.

"Don't stop, i'm so close," you whined out

Bucky didn't stop. He continued sucking on your clit until you could feel your walls come crashing down. You pulled on his har, and tighten your legs around his head as he continued through your orgasm.

When you finally calmed down, you slowly let your grip on him go. You were panting, lying back on the still vibrating washing machine, staring at the ceiling, taking in that feeling of ecstasy.

Bucky stood up and stared at you. He loved the sight of you. You were panting, cheeks red, a total mess. All for him.

Bucky looked around, thinking of how and where he was going to fuck you. He eyed the table.

"Get up, doll." he told you

You sat up, breathless, "Why,"

"Machine's too tall, beautiful. Can't fuck you up there."

Just hearing Bucky say that made your pussy twitch. He placed either hand on your hips and helped you down. You stood, leaning against the washing machine as Bucky began undressing in front of you.

He tossed his shirt to the side, and began taking his pants down. He stood in front of you in only his underwear.

"Take them off," you begged

Bucky gave you a smug look before pulling them down as well.

You moaned, just at the sight of him. You hadn't realized that the supersoldier serum would affect that part of him as well.

You moved toward him, taking his huge cock in your hand. You ran your finger over his tip, precum already leaking out

"Fuck," he muttered

"That's the idea," you said.

Bucky gripped your hips tight, shoving you toward the table in the corner of the room. He lifted you up and sat you down on the edge.

"Lean back, so I can shove my dick in you." he ordered

You obeyed. Lying flat on the table, bringing your heels up so they were resting on the table as well. You kept your eyes on Bucky, he traced his finger up and down between your folds. You twitched at the smallest touch.

"Please," you whined

Bucky grinned at you, before taking his cock in his hand, and lightly brushing it up against you.

Bucky lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly slid inside. You cried out in pleasure the deeper he got. You felt so tight with his massive cock. You watched Bucky push the rest of himself in. He shot his head back, mouth open, moaning loudly.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he said breathlessly

You both stayed still, taking in the feeling of Bucky stretching you out. He pulled you closer to him, taking either of your legs and putting them over his shoulders. When he pulled you tight against him, you could feel him get even deeper inside of you.

Bucky slowly began to rock in and out of you. The feeling overwhelming. You couldn't hold in your moans. Never had it felt so good to have someone so close and so deep inside of you.

You shot your hand down to your clit, moving it slowly between your fingers as Bucky began to pick up his pace. You already knew it wasn't going to take much for you to come again, especially with how Bucky was moving in and out of you.

Bucky slowed his pace, sliding out of you, and then pushing back in hard. You circled your clit harder as he continued thrusting in and out.

He pushed in, and you moaned hard, arching your back.

"Right there, don't stop." you said

Bucky kept his pace, thrusting in and out. He knew you were close to coming again.

"Such a good girl," he said to you

Hearing Bucky call you that was enough. You circled your clit twice more before your walls came crashing down. Your other hand gripped the side of the table.

"Oh my god,"

Your pussy twitched around his dick, but he didn't stop moving. He continued fucking you through your orgasm.

You groaned, knowing if he kept going like this another orgasm wouldn't be far behind. Both your arms were spread, gripping different ends of the table. Bucky brought his hand down to your clit. Running his thumb over it, over, and over, and over again.

Bucky rocked his hips into you, thrusting hard and fast. You moaned every time you felt him hit deep inside of you, his thumb still running over your clit. Your walls clenched against his dick once more. That was exactly what he needed. Bucky threw his head back, pulling himself out of you, spurting his come all over your stomach.

Bucky stood in front of you, letting your legs fall from his shoulders. you were still lying back on the table. Both of you stayed silent, trying to catch your breath.

The washing machine began to sing.

"Guess you got three loads done today," Bucky joked, cracking a small grin, looking down at you.

"Oh my god." you said, rolling your eyes at his awful joke.

Bucky held out his hand to you, offering to help you off the table. You grabbed his hand, and stood up. Your faces were only a few inches from each other.

"We should probably clean you up," Bucky said, not taking his eyes off of you.

You sighed, as Bucky turned away to grab you a towel from across the room.

You cleaned yourself off, and you both got dressed again. Bucky stayed with you as you switched your laundry from the washing machines into the dryers, 100% eyeing your ass as you bent over.

"Ever sit on top of the dryer?" Bucky joked.

"Too hot," you answered, laughing slightly.

You walked toward Bucky, he was sitting in one of the chairs at the table. He grabbed your hand pulling you close to him. You sat down on his lap, and he gripped your face with one of his hands, placing a long kiss on your lips.

"Maybe I should start helping you with your laundry every week," he stated

"Every other week," you corrected.

"No, darling. Every week."

#Peterspidey #sebastianstan #the falcon and the winter soldier #Sebastian stan smut #Bucky barnes smut #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier smut #the winter soldier fanftiction #the winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier smut #Sebastian stan imagine #seb stan smut #Sebastian stan x reader #mcu #smut

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x yoonbum #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo #yoonbum x you #yoonbum x y/n #yoonbum x reader #killing stalking yoonbum #killing stalking #ks yoonbum #ks sangwoo #yang seungbae #king x reader

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thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Hell On Earth

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you barge into clay’s office to complain about his broken air conditioner, unaware that he’s streaming.

Florida was hell.

You liked to say it as a joke, during October when the rest of the world was freezing, during December when the insane temperatures finally went back under control, and the sun granted you its blessing of a refreshing gust of wind every now and then. You liked to say it as a joke, mostly, but God, did you mean it whenever summer would creep around the corner and you’d get reminded of why you told your boyfriend so often that the devil must’ve left hell, came down to America, and bought himself a nice penthouse in Florida.

It lived up to its title of the hottest state in the US, by far, considering the hellish temperatures that constantly made you dizzy whenever June rolled around. You had great air conditioning in your apartment, though, and as soon as the sun started burning skin, plants, water, and everything in its way, you and your college roommate would lounge at your place as the air conditioner blew cold wind and thank the lord (and the person who invented AC, bless his heart) for providing you with at least one blessing during these trying times.

So, of course that as soon as summer came about, your air conditioning conveniently broke.

Your roommate was out of the apartment within two days, flying to her family in Wisconsin, bidding you farewell as she left you to cook like a raw chicken in your shared apartment. Thankfully, you had a boyfriend - and what a boyfriend he was.

You don’t like to brag, but at these moments, you feel grateful to the universe and whoever else is looking over you for providing you with a rich boyfriend, with quite a big, echo-y house, and air conditioning made of pure heaven. As soon as your roommate packed your bags, you packed yours too, - if one backpack filled with makeup, your laptop, meds, underwear and hopes that he’d let you steal all of his clothes could count as “bags” - locked the apartment and left, ready to leave the AC on snowman temperature for two days minimum and ignore all his complaints.

Bad luck seemed to follow you everywhere, though, because you were there for merely three days when the air conditioning started stuttering.

You were sprawled on the cold sheets of his bed, listening to the low hum of the AC as you scrolled through your phone, his white T-shirt sticking to your back, the cold air cooling the sheen of sweat that covered your body, leaving goosebumps all over. One of your fingers started lazily petting Patches’ stomach, and you could faintly hear Clay talking in the background, the sounds coming from his office.

“Thank you for the gifted subs! Um, yeah, it’s really hot here, I can barely, like, breathe in here. I have the AC on at highest, but all it’s doing is giving me a headache. Even-even my water bottle is completely hot.” You heard him rant and chuckled, turning on your side and continuing to scroll through random videos.

You sort of tuned out his talking, knowing he’d most likely be cooped up in that office for hours before your shared dinner, and started watching random YouTube videos, ignoring your surroundings as you shoved your earbuds in your ears.

The longer the videos lasted, the more you felt like you were suffocating. The heat crawled up on you slowly, sneakily, almost unnoticeable yet undeniably there, hand made up of pure fire gripping at your throat tighter and tighter. It started off seamlessly, with you rolling around, trying to find a new cold spot on the sheets, to pulling at the shirt, trying to create cold air to soothe you, to wiping the sweat that basically covered your entire forehead, when your eyes finally peeled away from your phone and you realised you were basically choking in the heat, feeling like you’re breathing fire.

You lift your head off the bed way too quickly, head pounding, and look at the one thing meant to save you from this madness - just to see it leaking water down the wall, barely coughing out any air. Your head miserably falls back down on the bed, hands rubbing at your face, dangerously close to both crying and screaming in distress. After a few moments of self-wallowing, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend’s office, being met with nothing but silence as you walked to it, happy he ended the stream so you could complain and wail to him, possibly cool down using the AC in his office.

You slam the door open, seeing him hunched over in his gaming chair, Minecraft open as usual, and as soon as he takes one headphone off, turns around and sends a surprised but oddly panicked gaze your way, you start ranting.

“Babe, you won’t believe what just happened.” you said, rubbing a hand over your face again, eyes closing as you feel the coldness - in comparison to the living hell that was his bedroom right now - of the room wash over you. You don’t even let him speak before you continue.

“The fucking AC in your bedroom just broke. It’s leaking right now.”

Clay looks like he wants to say fifteen words at once, and the first one that comes out is: “What?”

“I swear. I was watching something on my phone, and I realised it’s crazy hot, so I looked up and realised it’s broken. Why does this happen to me!” you complained, and he tried pulling his headphones off for a second but instead pulled the cord out of the computer entirely, letting you hear everything that goes on in his headphones.

It’s silent for a second or two, before you hear a familiar voice.

“Dream.” you hear a British man with an awfully posh accent speak, and your eyes meet Clay’s in pure horror and realisation, when you slap a hand over your mouth. He looks as equally terrified as you, but also disappointed, because oh, that’s why he looked so panicked when you stormed in.

Then you hear another voice, equally British, but higher pitched. They laugh. “Is that Drista?”

Clay seems to snap back into reality, turning around towards the computer and adjusting his mic before speaking. “No- it’s- Tommy she said babe, why would Drista call me babe?”

“You’re so stupid, he was trying to help you.” You hear his long-time friend, Sapnap, deadpan, and you can practically feel all of them freaking out, while you stand in the doorway in horror, cheeks heating up despite the fully working AC.

Another laugh. “No, I wasn’t, I was genuinely asking. Why- Sapnap, why would I be helping Dream?”

“Dream, you are so stupid.” you hear George laugh into his mic and your boyfriend immediately starts stuttering, trying to defend himself.

“How-how am I stupid?! She’s the one who walked in, what was I supposed to do?” you lean against the doorway as he defends himself, head buried in one of your hands.

“Mute!” you hear Sapnap borderline yell, almost mad.

“Wait- I don’t get what’s going on- Does Big D have a girlfriend?” you hear the British boy, Tommy, ask, and all of them go silent for a few seconds before a loud, screeching laugh breaks out through the speakers, and when Clay turns around to look at you, all you can do is mouth an apology as you almost break out into laughter at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

“Oh my God, chat is going crazy right now.” George says while Tommy is laughing his lungs out in the background, still.

“Did you actually- did she actually- oh my GOD, Dream has a girlfriend! I can’t believe this!” Tommy keeps on laughing, coughing between sentences. “Dream stans, I am so sorry, this must be just a terrible, terrible day for you all.”

“You’re probably already trending on Twitter, dude.” Sapnap adds, sounding more worried than your own boyfriend did at the moment.

“It was bound to happen at some point, I guess.” he huffs out, turning around to look at you every so often, gesturing for you to close the door and come in, which you did, guilt weighing you down as you moved.

“Are you serious? Can I- Can I speak to your girlfriend, Dream?” you can practically hear the grin in the boy’s voice and Clay doesn’t even turn to you before replying.

“No, you can’t.”

“Oh, come on! You let me speak to your mum but not your girlfriend? Just for a little bit, please? I just- I just wanna see which lucky woman managed to get the attention of the Minecraft God, Dream himself. That’s it.” Tommy asks and you don’t even have it in you to laugh because of the anxiety that eats away at you, but then Clay sighs.

“...Fine, I guess.” he looks up at you. “D’you wanna speak to Tommy?”

You’re not quite sure what the expected answer is, but you shrug, gaze darting from his eyes to the computer, and then back to him. “Um… I don’t mind, I guess.”

You hear him sigh and plug the headphones back into the computer, handing them to you. “Alright, she said yes. Here you go.” he stands up out of the chair and lets you sit, placing the way too big headphones on your head as your heart races, standing closely by your side as you roll the chair further towards the desk and microphone.

“Um… hello?” you shyly speak, and you hear something like groans of mixed annoyance, confusion and nervousness coming from George and Sapnap as Tommy starts laughing immediately, greeting you loudly.

“HELLO, DREAM’S GIRLFRIEND!” you hear him yell in response as your shaky hands land on the keyboard, moving his character left and right.

“Is the AC really broken?” Sapnap asks and you hear George laugh in response, considering how unimportant that information is right now. You know both of them, obviously - you’ve talked to them more than a few times, joining in on their jokes when Clay talks to them on speaker, growing as close as one can with their boyfriend’s friends.

“Yeah, it is. The AC in here is really good, though. Maybe I should stay and just take over the Dream channel.” You joke and they laugh.

“Yeah, I mean it would probably be better. A woman owning the Dream channel would make it so much better. The views would skyrocket.” Tommy says and you see his character walk up to you before he randomly laughs again.

“I can’t believe- I can’t believe Dream actually has a girlfriend. Is he, like, paying you to do this, or are you really…” he trails off and you giggle at his question, switching tools in the hotbar as you try to figure out how to play the game again.

“No, he’s not. We are dating, yes.” you confirm with a nod, and you feel Clay’s elbow sink into the chair, almost trying to listen.

“Say 1 if he’s keeping you hostage.” he says and you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, he’s not- he’s not keeping me hostage.” you reply and you hear Clay go “WHAT?” right behind you.

“Well, of course, of course, I mean, who could ever pass up dating the great Dream. With all those subscribers, and Twitch primes, and Minecraft skills. Did- did his Minecraft skills get you?” Tommy asked, but before you could even respond, Sapnap jumped into the conversation.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She loves it. Yes, Dream, speedrun faster!” he sarcastically replies and for a few moments the whole call is blown into loud laughter, screeching and yells before it quiets down.

“Yes, what Sapnap said. I was so impressed, he just blew me away, with um… with his, um, Manhunt skills? I dunno, I don’t play Minecraft.” you hear him laugh at “Manhunt skills” behind you as the rest of the boys start laughing too.

“Dream’s girlfriend doesn’t play Minecraft?! What?! Dream- how could he allow this, seriously…” Tommy argued dramatically, his character staring at yours - or rather Clay’s.

“I can’t imagine if we were both Minecraft players, that would be a nightmare.” you replied.

“Why?” you heard George laugh through the headphones.

“Who do you think peels him away from the damn computer? If I was just like him we would never get out of the house, probably.” you argued.

“Dreamfriend, what is Dream like, you know, in real life?” Tommy spoke up and you heard George giggle again.

“Dreamfriend?” you repeated, a grin forming on your face at his stupidity, finally deciding to move the character around and switch back to the sword in the hotbar.

“Yes! Dream’s girlfriend, Dreamfriend, Dreamgirl, Girldream, whatever you like.” Tommy said and you laughed.

“Dream girl… if I wanted to get clout off Dream I’d use that, that’s genius.”

“Thanks, I know I’m a genius, everyone tells me so.” Tommy claims and you shake your head, checking your boyfriend’s inventory to see if there’s anything interesting in there.

“Alright, I’m gonna check on the AC, I’ll be back in a second.” Clay says to you, before lowering himself to the mic so the boys could hear him. “Tommy, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Oh you know it, big man! I’d never!” Tommy yells back, despite Clay being unable to hear him, and he leaves the office with one last, quick kiss to your temple.

“Is he gone?” Tommy asks, and you nod and hum, despite him not being able to see you.

“Okay, so you don’t play Minecraft, right?” he asks.

“No, I don’t.” you reply.

“So there’s this really cool thing, right. If you just go in and type /op tommyinnit, there’s this thing that’s gonna-” Tommy doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s cut off by Sapnap, whose character suddenly appears in front of you.

“No, no, no, no, don’t trust him, you should-” Sapnap cuts in, but Tommy still loudly protests in the background.

“BE NICE TO OUR GUEST, SAPNAP! Let her do what she wants! She is Dream’s girlfriend after all, the most powerful woman.” Tommy claims and you laugh, sort of blushing from all the attention. You don’t even dare to check the chat or the donations that come in from Twitch, because it must be blowing up by now. As if he can hear your thoughts, George speaks too.

“Oh my God, Dream’s already trending on, like, five different spots on Twitter.” he says, and you instinctively grab your phone to check, before you can even think about it.

“What?” you and Sapnap both say in sync.

“Yeah, ‘Dream’ is trending #2 worldwide, and ‘Dream girlfriend’ is #4.” he lets out a shocked laugh.

“Oh my God…” you mutter out in both excitement, nervousness and dread as you open Twitter and confirm that George is indeed correct. You don’t even dare to press on either of the trends, simply turning off your phone with a sigh and moving back to stream.

“Wow, you’re famous now! How does it feel?” Tommy asks and you let out a quite dry laugh.

“Amazing. I can feel my value as a person increasing as we speak.” you respond sarcastically and hear George quietly laugh in the background.

Just then, you hear the door to the office opening again, but you ignore it because Tommy starts speaking.

“Okay, well, I’m sure that must be very fun and exciting for you, but I really will need you to type in /op tommyinn-”

“No! I’m not listening to you, Tommy! I’m not about to type in some stupid command and get yelled at!” you cut in, but he keeps on whining.

“Come on, we know Big D would never yell at his… beloved girlfriend! Listen, just do it, I promise he will not be mad.” he argues.

“What does /op even mean?” you ask out loud, and suddenly Clay is yelling behind you.

“Who is asking you to op them? Give me the headset!” he says, one hand already tugging at the headphones as you laugh while Tommy panics.

“Well, it was fun talking to you guys, but I have to go. Bye!” you bid them farewell and heard George and Sapnap say goodbye as well while Tommy yelled, and you took off the headphones and passed them to Clay who immediately put them on and adjusted them, plopping back into the chair. You left, moving to the living room to process everything that happened and abandon your phone for the next few hours because you were not ready for that type of attention in the slightest.

You laid in front of the TV, watching random shows on Netflix and grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen while you could still clearly hear him yelling and streaming, wondering how he’s still going as if nothing happened. The temptation to check what people were saying was overwhelming to the point your hands were itching to grab your phone and open all social media - before you even realised it, you were on the trending page again, thumb tapping on the “Dream girlfriend” tab.

You braced yourself for the worst, but that’s not what came at you - sure, there were a couple of tweets telling people to lay off you, and delusional shippers getting ratioed, but they were mostly positive, lighthearted jokes, from single people making jokes about how a Minecraft YouTuber can get bitches but they can’t, to people calling you cute/funny. One hate comment obviously stings more than a million positive comments make you happy, but they were mostly misogynists calling you annoying for the roughly five sentences you spoke on stream or shippers disappointed that their favorite YouTuber isn’t gay, so you didn’t really let it get to you.

When the house finally quieted down the sun was lowering itself into darkness and melting into a pot of blinding orange and golden honey, and you heard Clay’s footsteps when he finally turned off the stream, stepping into the living room a few seconds after you heard him. He sat down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him, sitting there in silence with you.

“So… that was something.” he finally broke the silence and you nodded.

“It really was.”

Another beat of silence passes.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I really need you to stop breaking all these ACs.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE BREAKING THEM-”

“Sorry, but I’m noticing a pattern here.” he wheezed, obviously just trying to get you riled up as you pulled away so his hand gets ripped off your shoulder.

“Shut up. You better have called someone to repair that damn thing, cause there is no way we’re sleeping in there without an AC.” you huffed, and he shuffled closer to you, arm wrapping itself around your shoulders once again.

“I did, they’re coming by tomorrow.” he assured.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief. “How are we gonna sleep tonight?”

“Who says we have to sleep?” the glint in his eye and the stupid grin plastered on his face tells you everything you need to know, and you roll your eyes.

“If we fuck, I’ll actually die of overheating. Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, I need to get that AC fixed as soon as possible.”

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dream fluff #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

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