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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA:

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you��ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all!#THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

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plantsarefun06 · 3 years

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Creation of Lazarus

"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."

-Ra’s al Ghul ----

Ra’s was born in the Arabi desert, to nomads, in 1430. If you asked any person from that tribe what Ra’s was, they would say “A boy with dreams”. Ra’s had dreams of knowledge, dreams of helping others, he dreamed of having a legacy, and a great one at that.

His dreams led him to leave his tribe. He knew that as a nomad, he would never truly achieve what he wished to and the best course of action was to settle down in a great city and continue the measly education that he got as a nomad, and the great knowledge the libraries of the Sultan provided.

His studies led him to a physician. Ra’s requested to become a physician, he wanted to help others, this would offer him an opportunity to study and learn about diseases and ailments, firsthand, and offer him chances to help the sick and injured.

The physician asked for one thing. “I am infirm and soon for the grave. My daughter, Sora, she will need a husband to look after her.” That’s when he heard a yell from the curtain behind the clerk’s desk. A woman swiftly pushed back the curtain to scold her father. “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to marry me off!”

The girl, clearly about his age, looked at him, let out a quick huff before grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragging him behind the clerk’s desk, behind the curtain, into what he could now see was a closet, with medicines and serums lining the walls, all filled with cobwebs and dust, clearly having not been used in a while.

“I’ll be honest with you Ra’s… I don’t really like boys much… but I can offer you companionship and support. And if we get married it will make my father’s last days much happier.” He was evaluating what she said as she said it when she quickly looked over to the shelves “And him stop pestering me.” She mumbled more to herself than Ra’s. At that he let out a light chuckle and having thought over her offer gave her his thoughts.

“I admit, I’m more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than women. We might be able to come to some… mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Sora gave a light smile to Ra’s, and he returned it. They both understood the agreement they both had created.

----

Within the year, as they all had expected, Sora’s father had died.

Despite them knowing that the time was drawing near, it was still hard. Sora would never admit it, but she shed a tear at his funeral, watching the bird fly through the skies as he was laid out in the Tower of Silence for a sky burial, traditional for his Zoroastrianism.

To cope Ra’s delved into his studies and found a project of the late physician. He had seen him look over it many times, but he had never been allowed to read the texts. He would simply watch as the physician would spend hours pouring over the texts, before the physician would finally come over and teach him about traditional medicinal herbs and serums and their effects. Ra’s forever acknowledges that he learned more in his months under the physician's tutelage, than he ever did in the library.

He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.

He was eternally grateful for the lessons he was given. They helped him serve the city in incredible ways. Ra’s performed near miracles for anyone who needed it. His reputation started to grow, some upper-class citizens would refuse to come, because Ra’s would cater to slaves, but others would request the treatment of Ra’s and would always find themselves healed within the week.

But these texts that he found of the physicians, seemed to have some pages with herbs and brews, but the majority held drawings of people, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, all bright, with texts in a script he couldn't begin to understand. He looked among the pages and found what looked to be a cypher in the physician's handwriting. The physician had part of the unfamiliar script figured out… no not script… it was CODE! The texts were coded!

All he would need to do was complete the cypher and he would discover what the texts were for.

----

Ra’s poured hours into the texts and completing the code, with no such luck.

“It’s no good. These codes your father was working on have me beat. I can’t break it…” He called to his wife, who was currently working in the front of the shop after it closed about an hour ago, she was preparing for the next day, he supposed.

“Perhaps I can help?” She poked her head in from behind the curtain to peer at him being over the table.

“Thank you, Sora. A warm bowl of goat’s milk and nutmeg would be most refreshing.” Ra’s commented back to her, without lifting his eyes from the texts in front of him.

He could practically feel the glare she was giving him. He wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t burn him with the intensity he could only feel from it, and he wasn’t even looking at her.

“I mean with the code. I learnt much from my father and knew he was struggling to complete his final great work, just as much as you. You’re not married to a servant girl, Ra’s. Warm the milk yourself, and let me see those figures.” The defiance in her tone was thick and her anger was subtle yet tangible. He didn’t understand it but that defiance, and strong will made him want to love her.

He knew that their relationship was built on the agreement of companionship, and for the safety of Sora after her father’s death, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love her. Love the way she would snark him when he would ask her to do things, that he could do himself, love how she would hum as she cooked the dinner that they ate every night, her loved how she would ever so lightly furrow her eyebrow when she was concentrated on work.

Ra’s let out a small smile and turned to meet his wife by the curtain. He bent down to kiss her forehead, “Sora… I believe this is going to be a beautiful marriage.” He gave her a light hug before giving her another kiss on her forehead and mumbling to her just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll go warm some goat’s milk for the both of us, and you can look over the codes, until I get back, and we can work on them together.” He gave her a light squeeze before unraveling himself from her and going off to warm the goat’s milk, and Sora heading over to the table to study the texts.

----

“More code?” Ra’s asked no one in particular. He and Sora had stumbled upon a trapdoor underneath a floor mat in the medicinal closet while cleaning. Ra’s could tell from the hinges alone that it was used regularly. When they opened the hatch they saw that it led down a small ladder, the ladder led to a room, an underground cave almost, despite it being quite dark he could make out the sound of lightly sloshing water and summarized that there was a pool in this cave.

They both held small candles, and when holding them close to the wall they saw it. It was a wall full of more texts! They were familiar enough with the code to recognize that the code from the texts upstairs matched the one in front of them.

A glint of recognition and understanding was in Sora’s eyes. “My father was working on a map of the Tibetan mountains, using the wisdom of the stars and other maps from the libraries of the Sultan. And figuring out the meaning of the code from texts of the ancients. A code showing…” She stopped speaking, her eyes running over a few things before stopping.

“And code of what?” Ra’s questioned Sora’s sudden quietness and turned to give her his whole focus. Her eyes were completely fixed on one drawing. It was of the silhouette of a man, behind him was a circle of purple. The way it was positioned it seemed to be describing the man emitting the purple. Like he was glowing.

He refocused his attention on his wife’s face as she turned to him, “One which tells the way to achieve something men have long dreamed-” he saw the emotions his wife’s face held. Emotions he had never seen in her face before, it was complete and utter disbelief,

“-a wish to change reality.”

----

They soon were able to decipher enough code to learn that the Tibetan mountains was the location of the Temple of Guardians, the holders of two pieces of magical jewelry that possessed the ability, when combined, to grant a wish that could alter reality.

Sora and Ra’s had both packed enough for a 3-week trip on horseback, to the Tibetan mountains, and back. Ra’s had won the argument over who would be going, Sora wanting it to be herself, but eventually agreeing Ra’s would be better suited for the job, considering he grew up as a nomad, much to Sora’s chagrin.

He had been on trek for a week and was taking a rest on the side of the dirt road to fill his canteen with water from a stream he saw nearby, when he saw a flash of light blue and white out of the corner of his eyes. He immediately drew one of the daggers that he carried at all times and started to look around for what he saw.

He hadn’t fought anyone in a decade, last time being a practice spar with his uncle the night before he left to go live in the city alone, and even then, he was only okay, but he did know some forms of martial arts and weaponry in theory. He read about it in some of the texts from the library, while theory may not have anything on experience, it was better than nothing.

He was beginning to think he had either come down with a fever and been hallucinating, or he had simply been seeing things, when after five minutes of surveying the area, he could see that no one had been there.

He walked up to his undisturbed horse and grabbed the reins. Upon lifting himself on the horse he heard a light *jingle*. He looked down to find a small drawstring bag tied around the tip of his saddle. He was used to seeing little drawstring bags, like this one, around the shop. Sora often used them to hold the herbs they used for medical purposes, but he didn’t know why she would have packed it, or why it jingled when it was shaken.

He slowly picked it up, examining it as if it were going to spontaneously catch fire. He slowly undid the knot and overturned the contents of it in his gloved hand.

Out fell two earrings and a ring…

A ring that was a black as dark as the night sky he saw as a nomad child, with a pawprint, greener than any grass or any tapestry he had seen before…

And a pair of earrings red as the blood he had seen countless times as a physician, and five distinct spots, black as the ring…

Both the ring and the earrings looking exactly like the drawings he had seen of the Black Cat miraculous and the Ladybug miraculous he had seen in the texts.

Ra’s had learned many lessons in his life, but one of the biggest, most important of them all: There are no coincidences in the world.

Ra’s had no doubt in his mind that in his hand, he held the two most powerful objects in the universe, two objects that would grant him a wish.

Slowly, a grin grew on his face. He immediately seized the reins of his horse, and turned him around, heading faster than he ever had back to the city.

His father-in-law's final project was finally completed on its way to being completed.

----

The look on Sora’s face was one he had only seen once before, when they first discovered the small area underneath the shop, complete and utter disbelief.

“This… these jewels… are they really the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous?” She asked wide-eyed, just looking at what Ra’s had set on the counter after barging into the shop, in a ridiculously loud manner, might she add.

“I do believe it is, they practically feel powerful!”

Sora slowly inched her hand toward where the earrings fell on the counter. The moment she gently brushed her finger against one of the earrings, a bright pink light emitted from it, one that forced both Sora and Ra’s to cover their eyes.

Once the light dimmed, they saw something that was not in the texts.

Both Sora and Ra’s were in a state of shock. It was broken when the thing floated up to her face and began to speak, “Hello my name’s Tikki. I’m the Kwami of Creation!” She said, giving a little twirl in the air.

Ra’s, finally able to speak again, asked, “That does not explain much. What is a ‘Kwami’ and why did you suddenly appear when the earrings were touched by Sora?”

“Ooh. A Kwami is an entity tethered to this plane of reality by the jewelry that is sitting on your counter. I’m the entity of creation. When everything came to be, I came to be with it, not before, not after, some people confuse that.” The ‘Kwami’, as they both learned it was, giggled before continuing with the explanation they both needed, “I’m the thing that gives power to that jewelry, without me, that jewelry is just some antique junk.” She finished her explanation.

It made more sense than just ‘magical jewelry’ to have some entity tethered to it. “If you touch the ring Plagg will come out!” She exclaimed before going over to Ra’s and pulling off his glove and grabbing his hand. She pulled his hand from his side and he willingly allowed the ‘Kwami’ to lift his finger to touch the ring.

A second burst of bright light, green this time, came from the ring. This time Sora and Ra’s expected it so it wasn’t too bad. They only had to blink a couple times before they heard a yawn, “Well that was a good cat nap!” The other ‘Kwami’, who he was guessing his name was ‘Plagg’ from what ‘Tikki’ said, “Do you all have some cheese, I’m starving!”

Sora was the one who pulled herself together enough to answer ‘Plagg’s’ question, “There is some food in the cabinet under the basin. You may find what you are looking for there.” Sora gestured to the curtain and both Kwami got the memo, before floating off where Sora indicated the food would be.

Both Ra’s and Sora locked eyes. Their silent conversation led to them both leaving each other's gaze to eye the ring and earrings. They both agreed that they had no idea what had just happened.

----

“That is not a good idea.”

That was the only thing that was said after Sora and Ra’s took them to see the basement beneath their shop that held the texts and the pool. Both of the Kwami were faced away from the texts as ‘they should not see them’. Ra’s gave them an indignant look at their immediate dismissal of their want for a wish.

“This could help hundreds maybe even thousands of people, how is this not a good idea?”

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.” Tikki tried to explain to both Ra’s and Sora. The sincerity in her voice was deep, but they did not hear the sadness that lingered in it as well.

“Will you not allow us to make the wish?” Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, as if analyzing the situation.

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.” Sorrow again seeped into Tikki’s voice; this time Ra’s noticed it as well.

“Then I will make the wish, I have memorized the incantation and only one of us can make the wish itself.” He pulled the now silver ring and black earrings from his pocket. He placed the ring on his left middle finger. He prepared to force the earrings through his ears, worst case scenario he could use whatever came of the wish to heal himself, only to be pleasantly surprised when the earrings glided through his ear as if he did have a piercing.

Both the Kwami moved to the outstretched hands Ra’s offered and sat down. Ra’s failed to notice the tears in Tikki’s eyes, and the downcast look on Plagg’s face.

The moment he uttered the last syllable, the rush to Ra’s was undeniable. He felt immense amounts of power seeping into his veins.

“I wish to have the means to heal any injury and return any person from death.”

And everything went quiet. All the power he was feeling only moments ago, felt like it was running off him, like dirt would in a shower.

He looked over to see Sora sitting in the ground shielding her face, much in the same manner she was when they first met the Kwami.

Both the earrings and ring started to burn lightly, so he ripped them off and threw them behind him, before running over to Sora and helping her stand.

Ra’s felt at his ear, where he just ripped the earring out, noticing the earrings didn’t leave so much as a scar.

Looking to check over Sora, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a bright green glow.

Both Ra’s and Sora looked over to see a neon, toxic green color at the bottom center of the pool.

It was mesmerizing how the green stretched from a small center at the bottom of the pool out, almost like tentacles, or tree roots growing out in the dirt.

He continued to watch until the entire pool was filled with the green, when he saw the same white and light blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to turn quickly and catch it, but the only thing he saw was an empty room.

A room empty of both the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.

----

Life went on relatively normal for Ra’s and Sora. They cleaned out the basement and removed the texts, as they were no use to him anymore, and cleaned the area.

When finding a name, they settled on one- Lazarus Pit - from a biblical story that Sora’s father mentioned in one of the texts.

He had said ‘he wanted to be able to do the same as the Christian’s god, and revive the dead. And if the wish truly worked, it would be able to, they had yet to try the pit and test the magic that quite obviously resided within it.

----

As time went on, and the pit remained below their feet, Ra’s continued his work as a physician, continuing working miracles without the use of the pit, which was an actual miracle. His reputation grew both of his physician's duties, and of the great mind he held. He was referred to as “the greatest mind of his age” by some.

Ra’s had heard him referred to as this on occasion, but he didn’t realize just how far word of his miracles went until the Sultan’s guard requested his aid in healing the prince who had fallen ill.

As the guards left his shop, leaving him with the letter asking him officially of his aid he immediately turned to Sora with quite possibly the largest smile he ever had on his face, “If I could cure the prince-- our reputation would be made, I’d have the funding to push my research forward-”

He was cut off by Sora who he only realized was rubbing her temple with her hands at his rant, “The prince is nothing but a cruel young aristo-- I’ve caught him leering at me in the Bazaar!”

“Don’t do this Ra’s. We can do without the Sultan’s money!” Sora pleaded to him. She held a look of concern on her face that Ra’s completely ignored, rather thinking about what he could possibly do with the benefits of healing a prince.

“You’re wrong! When I walked through the desert, I nurtured a dream. This is my way to fulfill it!”

Ra’s turned away from Sora, and headed down below the shop, to the Pit.

----

Everything went wrong. And Ra’s had no idea how.

Everything was going fine.

The royal guards had brought the sick prince to his shop as requested by Ra’s. The moment he saw the prince Ra’s knew that he was on his deathbed… he knew the only way to help him was using the Lazarus Pit.

He had the guards bring him down the ladder and he followed them, with Sora by his side.

They dipped the prince in the Pit. They let him wade. It was only seconds, maybe a minute, at most, before the prince burst out from under the water. Certainly not sickly like he was, to the point of not being able to walk, not like he was when he arrived.

For the briefest moment Ra’s lived in this fantasy where the Pit healed the Prince, and Ra’s got the reputation he wanted, the funding he needed, and got to continue the research that he always wanted to. He lived in this fantasy where he and Sora worked side-by-side, studied medicine, and became great physicians known for their miracles.

This fantasy ended when the prince left at Sora his eyes, we're not the same as they were when he went in; they were yellow and feral. There was a snap before the guards were able to subdue him. They only realized that the snap was from Sora’s neck. And Sora laid on the ground with scratch marks on her face, her head bent at an unnatural angle, and a small drop of blood dripping down her cheek, from her mouth.

Ra’s fell beside her body, unmoving, he saw out of the corner of his eyes, the prince stopped struggling in the guards' arms and seemed to gain some form of coherency of the situation, but he could not look away from her. He didn’t even breathe until the guards grabbed him as well and put a bag over his head.

Everything went wrong.

----

They said he killed her. The Sultan was told by the prince’s guards that his son had killed the wife of the physician that treated him for his illness.

That he had snapped her neck. In return the guards were killed. They could not have the truth be spread. It could cause uprising if such rumors were told to others. So, the moment he was told the story, directly from the prince’s guards who had been there, and he got assurance that they had taken the husband -the physician- and put him in the dungeons, and after that assurance was placed, he had his personal guards slit their throats.

It wasn’t hard to say it was the husband who did it. Without the guards to tell what happened, and the physician in such a state of shock he wouldn’t even talk, no one questioned what the Sultan said.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

They were the only questions Ra’s was asking himself of late.

He was completely unreactive on the outside but was perfectly aware of what was happening. He was perfectly aware of how the Sultan was placing the blame on him. How the Sultan was saying he killed Sora. He killed his wife.

And yet he knew that regardless of the fact he was innocent, he would still be blamed and persecuted for her death. So, he sat still and continued to ask those questions in his head.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

He knew he was being gagged, tied up, and dragged from his cell from the dungeons beneath the castle. He knew that this is when they would punish him. It would be death.

How he would die?

He did not know.

Likely a public flogging, beating, or torture of some kind before then bend him over a rock and to take his head off.

And to be honest, Ra’s couldn’t feel anything, he was completely numb as his knees, calves, and feet were dragged over the dirt, and cobble leaving long scars. He knew they were supposed to sting, and burn, and just hurt, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He didn’t start to see anything until he saw it. There was a cage in the center of the courtyard, black iron, probably burning hot with the sun as it is, but that is not what caught his eye. It was the body of Sora that laid in it.

He started to feel the burn of the metal as they forced him in the same small cage as Sora. He was forced to curl in on himself as her body lay not 6 inches from him. Sat up against the side of the cage, with rope tied around her neck and waist, keeping her sitting upright, and facing the rest of the unbearably small cage. Her eyes still opened in the same shock they were in when he first was beside her body.

He felt as the cage was lifted up, the burn of the hot metal only worsening, as they carried the cage out to the city walls, to leave him in the desert to die.

----

His eyes never stayed off Sora’s for long. He remembered what her eyes looked like…

… these are not her eyes.

Sora’s eyes held none of what it used to. Her eyes held confidence, charm, they held stubbornness and defiance. All the things that made Sora the woman she was. All the things that were devoid in those eyes.

Those eyes were open and held only one thing: fear. And that was unlike Sora at all. Sora was never afraid.

But maybe she was of death. Maybe her eyes held fear because she realized what was going to happen…

...because she realized she was going to die.

----

Ra’s didn’t know how long he sat in that cage outside the city walls, staring into the unfamiliar eyes.

All he knew was that the trance was broken by the sound of creaking metal. The hinges. And the feeling of hands going under his arms and pulling him up. He had the strength to turn his head and be met with a face that was faintly familiar.

“Who are you?” He weakly rasped out. “Sabih, I’m a slave for the al-Hafiz family. You saved my mother from dysentery four months ago… I figured I owed you the same.”

And that’s all they said. That’s all they said when he walked back towards the al-Hafiz property. That’s all they said after Sabih settled him in the stables and fed him some water and leftover scraps. That’s all they said as Sabih handed Ra’s a small bag with some water, and food in it. That’s all they said before Ra’s returned to the outside of the city walls, and left on a search for the nomadic tribe he was born and raised in.

He didn’t know what to do, but he was going to figure it out, but not do it in that city.

----

It took him a few weeks, and some manual labor in return for supplies, before he found his uncle’s nomads and took control. It was relatively easy.

By the time he had found the nomads he had been able to sort through his mind. Find his priorities.

And right now, he wanted one thing: he wanted the great city to burn.

He wanted them all dead, he just had to be smart about it. He was thankful, now more than ever for the lessons Sora’s father gave.

It would be easy, he would start by giving a disease to the slaves, if the disease would spread quick enough, it could be passed down the classes and severely weaken the city. Especially if the slaves were hit first, considering that the city was built with them as their foundation.

----

The city was ravaged. Those who didn’t die of disease were killed by Ra’s and his men. When the priests of the Zoroastrian Delegation asked if they spared them and their Holy Towers of Silence. Ra’s turned to the man who was the messenger of the request and bared his teeth.

“Kill the priests. Burn their sacred buildings!”

Ra’s stood in before the destruction he caused. He returned to the city a very different man from when he first arrived there.

A man with a different dream…

Ra’s walked back to the old shop. One that he spent much time in. Leading the others down to the opening below the shop to allow them to see the Lazarus Pit.

“Uncle, you are still the leader of our tribe, but the tribe I am describing will stretch farther than the sands of Arabi. Stretch into every land… past the wall of every city.” Ra’s spoke keeping his voice low and authoritarian. His uncle let off a chuckle.

“Oh, nephew. Just like your father. You were always the dreamer. What you speak of it too… fantastical.” His words made Ra’s a bit angry, but a bit smug at the same time. His uncle had no idea what the Pit in front of his very eyes was capable of.

“*tch* My father never had half my vision, Uncle, nor half my talent.”

His uncle just sputtered in response, “But… it would take several lifetimes for one man to accomplish what you speak of!”

Ra’s just smirked at his words, “Yes, uncle. Yes indeed. And it will be quite some journey.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ra’s focused on the pit, reminded of Tikki’s words…

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.”

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.”

He truly did. The creation of this wish helped him achieve one of his life’s greatest desires, one of his greatest loves, and in return he lost the love of his life, Sora.

And if you are to use the Lazarus Pit to heal physical injuries, you will suffer from temporary loss of sanity.

Truly a balance.

“You will learn in time. Time is something we have a great deal of. The destruction of this city… has unleashed a demon.

And I… Ra’s al Ghul… I am truly the Demon’s Head!”

----------

Heavily based off of Batman Annual Vol. 1 26

‘al Ghul’ translates to Demon’s Head in Arabic. Notice how that ‘al Ghul’ is only used during the quote at the beginning of the story(yes I did use a quote from the Nolan movies. It fit really well), and at the end when he loses it.

This is the closest I could possibly get to DC canon on Ra’s al Ghul’s origin. In the original Ra’s does not create the pits he simply finds them, with the help of maps left behind by the physician. I wrote this because I really wanted a Miraculous created Lazarus pit, but one that also had Sora in it. I really like her for the scene with the goat’s milk (that is comic accurate, you can check) and what happened to her was NOT deserved. I also wanted to show the human side of Ra’s, and how rage drove him to be such an evil person.

Also a headcanon of mine is that any miraculous jewelry that is some sort of piercing, does not actually require a piercing to wear, it will just go through the skin as if there was a piercing.

The ‘light blue flash’ that Ra’s thinks he hallucinated was a holder of the Rabbit miraculous leaving both the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to him. This is done because the Lazarus pits are necessary to a stable timeline, not because whatever holder of the Rabbit miraculous is active, thought it was a good idea. They were practically forced.

Ra’s and Sora were closer to each other than anyone else, she was referred to as the love of his life, and they really had a deep bond and when Sora was killed he was broken. In the comic I based this off of, Talia even says, “[...]the death of Sora broke your grandfather’s heart… and forever darkened his soul.” when speaking to Damian.

#maribat #ra's al ghul #sora al ghul #lazarus pit #ml tikki #ml plagg #miraculous fandom #prequel #the blindness of marinette

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

What The Stark Spangled F**k?

A Stark Spangled Forever One Shot- Finding Rori

Summary: Rori gets a pet. And hilarity/chaos ensues.

Warnings: Bad language words…

A/N: This came to me yesterday and is inspired by my own fairground goldfish, Evans, who is 5 this year.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The little boy was happily colouring along, grinning and talking to his Dad as he went, occasionally glancing up at ‘Moana’ which was playing on the TV, sometimes he would start to imitate the singing, causing Katie to glance up and watch him, smiling softly. Out of their three youngest kids, he had without doubt been the easiest one to deal with. He hardly ever cried or made a fuss, never complained, he was such a placid little boy. Steve and Katie had no idea who he took after as neither of them were known for their patience or calmness really. And frankly, compared to his sister who could be the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, it was a welcome change. Which was why they liked to make time for him on his own as when the other two were around, they demanded all the attention, something which Katie hated, and Steve knew was worrying her about when baby number four arrived.

But their peace was shattered as the security system alerted them to the fact the gate had been opened by “Bucky Barnes” and Steve glanced up at the clock. It was gone five, he hadn’t realised it was getting that late in the day. He let out a sigh, and exchanged a look with Katie who had placed her book down in preparation for the onslaught.

Which arrived a few minutes later as Jamie sauntered into the room, baseball cap perched on his head backwards, followed by Rori who was clutching a plastic bag in her hand, and contained in which was…

“Oh you are kidding me, right?” Steve nodded to the offending fish swimming around in small circles as Rori held it up grinning. He looked at Katie who was trying not to laugh as he shook his head. Rori had been asking the two of them for a fish for weeks and they had persistently said no but surprise, surprise here she was with one.

“BUCKY! BUCKY!” Steve yelled as Harry grinned, joining in and clapping.

Buck appeared in the doorway, looking at Steve innocently whilst behind him Sam carried some form of small tank which held a pink castle and some other ornaments along with some food, gravel and a filter.

“I told you not to buy her a damned goldfish Bucky!” Steve looked at him, shaking his head

“I didn’t.” Bucky shrugged “I won her one.”

“Fisheee!” Harry said as he toddled over to Rori to get a closer look.

“That’s…that’s a technicality!” Steve spluttered before he looked at Sam who shook his head.

“I had nothing to do with this man.”

“Don’t lie Uncle Sam.” Jamie said, dropping onto the sofa, Stark licking his face “You helped Rori pick the tank in the pet store.” “Traitor” Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

“You,” Steve pointed at Bucky as he stood up from the rug, “are the biggest jerk ever, you know that?”

Bucky grinned innocently as Rori turned to Katie who examined the fish before she gave a shake of her head and sighed.

“Well it’s hre now so we might as well set the tank up.” And just like that, the Star Spangled Diva once more got her own way, as half an hour or so later, said bastard fish was safely in its new home, the tank sitting on the corner unit in the den where Steve had placed it once it had been filled and the ornaments arranged EXACTLY how Rori wanted them.

“I think we should call it Klaus.” Jamie nodded.

“What the hell kinda name is that?” Bucky looked at him.

“It’s the fish from American Dad.” Jamie shrugged.

“Okay. two things.” Steve looked at Jamie sternly. “One, me and your Ma told you that you were far too young to watch that and therefore were not allowed and two, I echo what Buck just said, what the hell kinda name is Klaus?”

“The fish can talk.” Jamie shrugged. “And he’s German, used to be a guy until the CIA turned him into a fish and-“ “Alright, just no.” Steve shook his head. “The fish is not being called Klaus and if I catch you watching that again, I’m gonna take the plug off your TV.” “Oh come on dad, like you didn’t watch shows you weren’t allowed to when you were my age.” Jamie protested and Katie gave a snort.

“Yeah, like TV existed back then.”

Jamie frowned for a moment before a look of realisation spread across his face “Oh yeah!” “Most Exciting thing we saw was the ‘Wizard of Oz’.” Bucky said, nostalgically “Man, Technicolour…what a revelation.” “That’s so whack.” Jamie mumbled.

“Yeah, now you’re talking and I’m hearing words but,” Steve shrugged and grinned as Jamie aimed a dig at him which Steve easily dodged. The two began to play spar with one another, their laugher and exclamations getting louder until Rori cut across the noise as she moved her head from where she was looking at the fish in its tank. “I’m going to call her Dori.” she said. Steve stopped what he was doing, which allowed Jamie to land a punch to his arm, which in all fairness was pretty fucking hard.

“Ow…” He said, rubbing at the place Jamie’s knuckles at connected with his bicep and looked down at the 9 year old “Good shot son…” Jamie grinned and they all turned to where Rori was stood, Katie crouched down next to her as they both watched the fish. “What did you say Princess?”

“I said her name. Imma call her Dori, like in Finding Nemo and Finding Dori…” she shrugged “And it’s like my name…”

“Dori and Rori.” Katie grinned at her daughter “Hey, Finding Rori…gedddit?”

Rori grinned and Hi-Fived her Momma the pair of them laughing whilst Steve and Jamie exchanged a look.

“Nah, I think you should call it Dot.” Bucky said simply. Steve turned to look at him. “What? It’s orangey red…so was her hair…”

“No,it’s Dori” Rori corrected him.

“Dot is better.”

“Dori!”

“Dot!”

“MY FISH, MY NAME UNCLE BUCKY!” Rori stamped her foot. And Katie turned to look at her, a firm expression on her face but it was Steve that issued the warning.

“Aurora enough! And you…” he pointed at Bucky who grinned at him, “stop antagonising her.”

“Chaos, confusion, my work here is done.” Bucky grinned, giving Steve a salute. “Same time next week?”

******* It was a few weeks later when disaster struck…

“Steeeeeeve!” Katie’s yell hit his ears and he stiffened slightly, before he put down his mug and hurried out of the kitchen and into the den.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned. She simply pointed to the corner of the room where Dori’s tank sat and he saw the fish bobbing on the surface.

Dead

“Oh fuck.” He swallowed. “How did that happen?”

“Well, I’m no expert but I suspect the half disintegrated cookie at the bottom of the tank might be something to do with it.” Katie sighed.

“I told her not to feed it them.” Steve groaned.

“You’re gonna have to go get a new one.” Katie looked at him “Before she gets back because I can’t cope with a diva meltdown Steve, not today.”

“Me?” Steve looked at her

“Yes, you.” Katie said. “I was up all night as you know, I can’t stop puking, I’m tired and you’re not in today and…”

“Ok, ok.” Steve nodded, placating her as he dropped a kiss to her cheek “Right…leave it with me.” She smiled at him, leaned up to give him a kiss before she swept out of the den, Harry toddling behind her. Steve glanced at the dead fish before he pulled out his phone.

“S’up Punk?” Bucky greeted him.

“Me and you got a mission, a big mission.” Steve said, “Meet me at the Coffee shop in 30.”

And that’s how both World War 2 Veterans, the Captain and his Sergeant, ended up in a local Pet Shop an hour or so later with said dead fish in a Tupperware container, a very bemused assistant looking at them.

“I need one of these” Steve explained, showing the fish to him.

“You need a goldfish, Sir?” “Yeah but it needs to look exactly like this one.” Steve said.

“Ok, they all look similar…” the assistant began until Bucky cut him off. “No, you don’t know his daughter.” Bucky shook his head “When we say exactly the same, we mean, exactly the same…” Less than an hour later, Dori The Second was placed in the now cleaned tank, the 3 adults and Harry watching it carefully.

“Think she’ll notice?” Steve asked, looking at Katie.

“Hmmm, it looks the same to me.” she said. “Suppose we’ll find out later.” Steve was crapping his pants all day. And when he finally collected Rori from school, he was on tenterhooks until she headed into the Den after getting changed and having a juice box. He glanced at Katie, as the pair of them held their breath, and they thought they’d gotten away with it for a few minutes, until they heard her yell.

“Shit…” Katie mumbled, as they both headed into the room.

“Everything ok?”

“Why does Dori have a white spot on her tail?” Rori looked at her mom and dad.

“Where?” Steve frowned.

“There!” She exclaimed, pointing. Steve leaned down to look and there was the tiniest white spot on the tip of the fish’s tail, no bigger than a pin prick.

“Some fish get markings like that.” Katie said, her quick thinking kicking in “it might go again, or it might get bigger…maybe you should keep notes and some pictures, then you can track it.” “Oh, ok, yeah that sounds cool!” Rori grinned and Steve glanced at his wife, relief flooding his system.

A little later, once Jamie, Rori and Harry were in bed, Katie and Steve sat down to dinner.

“I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Steve sighed, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork “I mean, of all the missions we’ve run…”

Katie chuckled, “You know, when I was a kid I had a goldfish. Tony got him for my 8th birthday, called him Flounder, you know after the fish in the little mermaid?”

“Yeah?” Steve looked at her.

She nodded “Yup. He lived for like 11 years…or rather I thought he did. On my 18th birthday Tony confessed that Flounder, who was at this point still alive, was in fact Flounder the 9th. He had in fact died 9 times and each time Tony replaced him without me knowing.”

Steve paused, his fork raised halfway to his mouth before he gave a groan. “So basically I’ve turned into Tony?”

“There are worse people you could have become.” Katie snorted as Steve shook his head, swallowing his food.

“Bucky is a dead man.” he sighed, “This is all his fault.” “Well he’d do anything for Rori.” Katie shrugged “She has the pair of you, and Sam for that matter, wrapped around her pinkie.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Steve looked at her “I mean, can you blame me? She’s basically Tony with your looks.”

A couple of hours later, after some TV and a cuddle on the couch, both of them decided to head to bed. It was still reasonably early but Katie was tired and Steve decided to go with her, he could watch TV in bed. They both checked on their kids, and Steve left Katie to tuck Harry in properly as he wandered over to Jamie’s room. He opened the door, Stark pushing in to take his customary place on the foot of the bed.

“Lights out pal.” Steve said gently as he dropped a kiss to his forehead. He reached for the remote, turning his son’s TV off as Jamie reached for his lamp, clicking the switch, leaving the only source of light as that which was coming from the hall way. “Night buddy.” “Night…” Jamie said, before he spoke again just as Steve was about to leave the room. “I know you swapped the fish.” Steve turned back to look at him, shrugging “I don’t know what you mean.” “Mom’s right, you’re a terrible liar.” Jamie said and Steve could just make out his face, a smirk was playing on his lips “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Rori…if you give me twenty bucks…” “How about I don’t, and you still don’t or you’re grounded.” “Grounding me aint gonna reverse time and stop me telling her in the first place.” Jamie shrugged.

Steve blinked. He paused for a second, contemplating his options. He could come down like a tonne of bricks on the kid, which to be fair was very tempting, or he could take the easy way out which frankly, at that moment, was far more appealing. And so, Steve Rogers, the first Captain America, once-upon-a-time leader of the World’s Mightiest Heroes found himself reduced to bargaining with a blackmailing 9 year old. His blackmailing 9 year old to be precise.

You little shit.

“5 bucks.” Steve opened the negotiation.

“15.” shot back Jamie.

“10.”

“Deal.” Jamie grinned. “Night dad.” “Yeah, whatever…” Steve grumbled, closing the bedroom door behind him. He stopped dead as he saw Katie looking at him, her hands on her hips.

“Did you seriously just let him do that?” she shook her head.

“Do you wanna deal with a diva tantrum?”

“Steve, he just completely…”

“I know what he did, Doll.” Steve sighed, following her into their room “And for the record, this is on you.” “Me?” she frowned as he reached out, his arms wrapping around her from behind, hands softly cupping her bump. “Yes, because that part of him that just blackmailed me, was his 50% Stark.” he said, placing a kiss to her neck.

Katie tilted her head and looked at him with narrowed eyes. He arched an eyebrow at her and she gave a snort, shaking her head. “Who knew that your own daughter would be your downfall.”

“She’s Tony but with your looks.” Steve shrugged “What do you expect?”

“Well,” Katie mused, “you said you’d give him 10 bucks but you didn’t say when. You can point this out to him tomorrow, if he wants it he can have it when he’s tidied his room.” “That’s…sneaky” Steve grinned.

“Fight fire with fire Soldier.” she smirked “You pointed out he’s half Stark, well, I’m 100% Stark, which means I can out Stark him all day long.”

**Original Posting**

#what the stark spangled fuck #stark spangled forever #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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that-sw-writer · 4 years

Note

Prompt #3 was so good!! can you please do a part 2? I love your writing💕💕

Thank you!! And thanks for requesting it, I was meaning to write a part 2 and totally forgot 🥴

I’ve also renamed the series ‘come back to me’

Summary: Kylo isn’t ready to let you go, he’s willing to do anything to bring you back from the brink.

Word count: 2218

Warnings: probably terrible use of medical dialect by me, lost of angst, mentions mental health/trauma, mentions death

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

Come back to me II

It had been a month, and Kylo still felt numb.

He still visited you every day, but there was always that impending sense of doom lurking around you like a dark shroud. It was just a matter of time before one of the doctors became brave enough to tell their Supreme Leader the harsh truth.

The truth that his wife had been in a coma for a month, that he had sourced the greatest medical professionals in the galaxy and even they couldn't draw you back to consciousness. You had sustained extensive injuries, and that was before the malnutrition and presumed mental trauma had been taken into account.

Eventually somebody had to speak up. The medical staff had spent a long time arguing over whose responsibility it was to tell Kylo that he needed to start thinking about letting you go, and eventually they decided to approach him as a pack... after all, the saying was 'safety in numbers.'

When the Chief Medical Officer had given him his two options: let you go, or keep you alive on the basis that you might never wake up, he had said that only by giving your body a chance to sustain itself would you possibly awake; although the chances were extremely slim. Kylo had simply ordered them all out of the room in an angry fit.

He wanted to demolish the walls with his Saber, but you were laying there so peacefully, he couldn't bring himself to do it. You had been the source of all of his happiness for so long now, he had no idea how to cope without you - in short, he wasn't coping without you. He was becoming more and more destructive by the day, especially where the pirates who kidnapped you in the first place were concerned. He was ruthlessly hunting them down across the the galaxy, following up every lead, every rumour, no stone was left unturned when it came to your captors. If he couldn't have you, he would at least have their blood as compensation.

Part of his destructive nature was stemming from his own guilt. If he had just gotten to you sooner, perhaps he would have caught you in time for the medical team to save you. But he hadn't made it fast enough, in fact the doctors had said that it was a miracle in itself that you had survived, even if you were comatose. On paper, you should have been dead, but your sheer will to live had kept you going.

Kylo sat by your bedside, and clutched his head in his hands as he tried to process his frustration. He wondered what you were dreaming about - one of the doctors he had brought in from Coruscant had told him that your brain was still active, and that you were able to dream, as well as possibly register things that were going on around you.

He just hoped that you were dreaming of happier times together, like when you had taken a trip away to Bespin together. Just the two of you, pretending that you could have a life outside of the First Order, although naturally the Supreme Leader and his wife were two very recognisable faces. Nevertheless, you had never felt so at peace in one another's company.

You strangely looked at peace now, Kylo thought. Your features were relaxed and soft, and for what it was worth you were looking in much better health than you had when he and the Knights had brought you back from Bor.

"Please don't let those animals be your finals thoughts, my love." He quietly urged you. If you could subconsciously register what was going on around you, he knew you would hear his voice. "You deserve the galaxy, and I promised I would give it to you. I'm just sorry I let you down." Emotion now filled his voice, and he prayed that nobody would come in and see him in such a vulnerable state. "I will hunt them down and avenge you, that's a promise I can keep."

He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that if you had your way you would be hunting down your kidnappers and getting revenge singlehandedly. He owed it to you to find them, either that or he was just trying to rectify his own mistakes.

"D-don't blame yourself."

Your final words still haunted him, he heard them every day. How could he not blame himself? He could have done so much more, or even better, he could have stopped you from pursuing that distress beacon in the first place.

Another day passed, and he once again found himself sat at your bedside. Even Kylo had to admit that he couldn't do this forever, it wasn't fair on either of you.

"If you stop supporting her, what happens?" He asked the Chief Medical Officer, his eyes not leaving your face.

"Her body has to either sustain itself, or it will fail. But Supreme Leader, you must know that the chances of her surviving are extremely low. In fact, I would say near impossible." He didn't want to get Kylo's hopes up, he understood that. But Kylo believed that your will to survive had brought you this far, and he wasn't ready to give up on you yet.

"Do it." He quietly said, every muscle in his body screaming at him to do something to stop this, but he knew it was necessary. If he lost you, he would never recover, but perhaps this could be the spark you needed to finally wake up and come back to him. Either way, he couldn't allow you to live out the rest of your days unconscious in the med-bay.

A team were gathered, ready to deal with any possible eventuality. They had tried to suggest that the Supreme Leader leaves the room, but Kylo was adamant on staying, because the second you were close to consciousness he would have something they didn't - the Force.

Despite you not being Force sensitive, he could sense your presence from a mile away, and he always knew how you were feeling. It was now his last lifeline to you, if he felt even a spark of life come from you then he wouldn't dare give up on trying to save you.

It all happened so fast, the machines were cut, the only thing left active being you heart rate monitor. The steady beeping immediately began to rise, up and up until it was dangerously high, then suddenly it flatlined.

"She's going into cardiac arrest." The Chief Medical Officer exclaimed, the team sweeping into action to try and save you.

He couldn't get a look in, the sea of bodies surrounding you had his own heart rate rising. Could he have just made a terrible mistake and lost you for good?

When the medical officers stepped back, the only sound filling the room was the monotone beep that symbolised your heart rate.

"I'm sorry Supreme Leader." The Chief Medical Officer spoke quietly, "we'll give you some time."

When everyone else left the room, tears were already uncontrollably pooling in the corners of his eyes. His whole world was shattering before him.

He wasted no time in moving to your bedside and gently taking one of your hands to hold in both of his.

"This can't be it, I can't have failed you again." He whispered, bringing your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to them. Your hand was still warm, and he couldn't believe he had come so close and still failed to save you.

"Please-" he begged, unsure as to who he was even speaking to now, "please don't take her from me." His voice cracked as the weight of losing you finally hit him like a tonne of bricks.

As if the Force had heard his pleas it called to him, and he listened. It drew him towards you, but he wondered what the point was - it was too late now... But then he felt it, tiny, almost non-existent, but it was there.

The smallest flicker of life remained in you, your will to survive still fighting, but quickly fading. He knew he had to at least try and pull you back.

His hands ever-so-gently released yours, placing it back by your side in favour of placing one of his hands on your chest. He dug deep, deep enough until he could reach that tiny flicker of life within you and he started to pass his energy to you.

Kylo felt himself becoming physically and mentally drained as he passed almost everything he had into you, but when he heard intermittent beeps coming from the heart-rate monitor he knew that he had to push through.

His hand was then met by yours, warm, gentle, alive. Your eyes fluttered open next, your pupils taking a moment to adjust to the harsh light in the room. Usually when people awoke from comas, it would take them weeks, months even, to recover. But you felt reinvigorated, as if you were ready to jump up at a moment's notice and undertake a mission. Whatever Kylo had done hadn't just brought you back to consciousness, it had brought you back to almost full health.

Satisfied that you were alive, and unable to physically give you anyone, Kylo stopped and collapsed to the ground, his breathing laboured as he tried to regain his strength.

"Kylo-" you tried to speak, but your voice manifested as a mere croak, barely audible. Your throat was so dry, you were starving hungry, your limbs were aching, but all you could think about was your husband. He had just saved your life.

"Supreme Leader-" assuming he was about to walk in on a grieving Kylo Ren, the Chief Medical Officer's expression was truly one of shock when he saw the scene before him.

Kylo hunched over on the floor, trying his best to remain conscious after giving up almost his entire life-force to his wife, who was now alive... You were trying your best to sit up, but struggling due to your limbs being out of practise, and all of the machinery you were wired up and attached to.

"I need a full team in here, now!" Was all he could think to yell, and immediately he had doctors and nurses arriving in the room behind, each and every one of them looking just as shocked at the scene before them.

As the Force began to catch up with Kylo and fill his veins once again, he was able to pull himself back to his feet, although he still looked like he could collapse at any given moment. Nevertheless he shoved everyone aside, paying them no mind whilst they tried to read your vitals and work out how in the galaxy you were alive and well suddenly. He moved to your bedside and cupped your face in his hands.

"You're really here?" He quietly asked, part of him thinking that he was dreaming right now.

"Yeah, I'm really here." You whispered back, your voice beginning to sound more recognisable as you now.

He didn't say anything else, he just pulled you close to him and momentarily buried his face in your neck. He usually refused to show such vulnerability when you were around people, but he was beyond caring about that right now.

You could feel his tears dampening your skin, and your hands gently weaved through his hair, soothingly stroking his dark locks to remind him that you really were there. Had you not been so dehydrated, you probably would have also been crying - but in your current state you weren't physically capable of it.

When he became aware of your need for medical attention, he reluctantly pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before withdrawing to allow the medical staff to do their work.

He stayed by your side for hours, until eventually you insisted on leaving and going back to your quarters. Some things never changed, and Kylo knew that whenever you were in the med-bay for one reason or another you were always keen to leave as soon as possible.

The Chief Medical Officer agreed to your release, but only on the basis that a medical droid be present in your quarters to take your vitals hourly and see to it that you undertake a good diet and stay hydrated. They were also concerned about your mental wellbeing, although everything was seemingly fine, you were overwhelmed and it was more than likely that the aftermath of everything you had been through hadn't hit you yet.

That night you and Kylo didn't say much to each other. You had been somewhat aware whilst you were comatose, and you knew just how much pain he had been in without you. You had bathed, dressed, and simply laid in bed together with him holding you in his arms.

The last time he had properly held you, you had been on the brink of death after days of relentless torture. He had started to accept that he would never hold you again, and it felt surreal that you were here in his arms.

There were so many issues he had to iron out, including brining your captors to justice, but for now you were the only thing on his mind. He never wanted to let you go.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren #kylo ren request #kylo ren reader insert

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pop-punklouis · 4 years

Note

hi hope! i saw that you’re really big into film and tv. do you have any tv shows you could rec? i need something new to watch.

hiya grey! and of course. i always have tv shows on hand to rec

• Dark (3 Seasons)

When two children go missing in a small German town, its sinful past is exposed along with the double lives and fractured relationships that exist among four families as they search for the kids. The mystery-drama series introduces an intricate puzzle filled with twists that includes a web of curious characters, all of whom have a connection to the town's troubled history -- whether they know it or not. The story includes supernatural elements that tie back to the same town in 1986.

• Portlandia (8 Seasons)

this absurdist series set in Portland, Ore., that gently pokes fun at the laid-back Pacific Northwest city and the many eccentric characters that call it home. Among the many recurring guest stars on the series are Ed Begley Jr., Jeff Goldblum, Natasha Lyonne, Kumail Nanjiani and Kyle MacLachlan, who plays Portlandia's mayor.

• Parfum (limited series)

When a woman is found murdered with scent glands excised from her body, a detective probes a group of friends who attended boarding school with her.

• Trinkets (2 Seasons)

A grieving teenager finds an unexpected connection with two classmates at her new high school when they all land in the same Shoplifters Anonymous group.

• Fleabag (2 Seasons)

A dry-witted woman, known only as Fleabag, has no filter as she navigates life and love in London while trying to cope with tragedy. The angry, grief-riddled woman tries to heal while rejecting anyone who tries to help her, but Fleabag continues to keep up her bravado through it all.

• I Know This Much is True (limited series)

Middle-aged Dominick Birdsey recounts his troubled relationship with Thomas, his paranoid schizophrenic twin brother, and his efforts to get him released from an asylum. (Mark Ruffalo’s best performance to date)

• The Vow (limited series)

Following the experiences of people deeply involved in the self-improvement group NXIVM, an organization under siege with charges including sex trafficking and racketeering conspiracy brought against its highest members and founder Keith Raniere

• The Outsider (limited series)

Based on Stephen King's best-selling novel of the same name, "The Outsider" begins by following an investigation which at first seems like it will be simple and straightforward but things change as it leads into the gruesome murder of a young boy by a seasoned cop. When an insidious supernatural force edges its way into the case, it leads the investigators to question everything they believe in.

• Peaky Blinders (5 Seasons)

Britain is a mixture of despair and hedonism in 1919 in the aftermath of the Great War. Returning soldiers, newly minted revolutions and criminal gangs are fighting for survival in a nation rocked by economic upheaval. One of the most powerful gangs of the time is the Peaky Blinders, run by returning war hero Thomas Shelby and his family. But Thomas has bigger ambitions than just running the streets. When a crate of guns goes missing, he recognizes an opportunity to advance in the world because crime may pay but legitimate business pays better. Trying to rid Britain of its crime is Inspector Chester Campbell, who arrives from Belfast to try to achieve that goal.

• Schitts Creek (6 Seasons)

a wealthy couple -- video store magnate Johnny and his soap opera star wife Moira -- suddenly find themselves completely broke. With only one remaining asset, a small town called Schitt's Creek, which the Roses bought years earlier as a joke, this once-wealthy couple must give up life as they know it. With their two spoiled children in tow and their pampered lives behind them, the Rose family is forced to face their newfound poverty head-on and come together as a family to survive.

• Mindhunter (2 Seasons)

Catching a criminal often requires the authorities to get inside the villain's mind to figure out how he thinks. That's the job of FBI agents Holden Ford and Bill Tench. They attempt to understand and catch serial killers by studying their damaged psyches. Along the way, the agents pioneer the development of modern serial-killer profiling.

• Mr. Robot (4 Seasons)

Young, anti-social computer programmer Elliot works as a cybersecurity engineer during the day, but at night he is a vigilante hacker. He is recruited by the mysterious leader of an underground group of hackers to join their organization. Elliot's task? Help bring down corporate America, including the company he is paid to protect, which presents him with a moral dilemma. Although he works for a corporation, his personal beliefs make it hard to resist the urge to take down the heads of multinational companies that he believes are running -- and ruining -- the world.

• Dark Tourist (1 Season)

Journalist David Farrier focuses on that area of travel, known as dark tourism, in this docuseries. In each episode, Farrier travels to a different locale to visit destinations and have experiences that wouldn't be on most vacationers' bucket lists. He embeds himself in a death-worshipping cult in Mexico, sees tourists soaking up radiation left behind in Fukushima, meets vampires in New Orleans, and travels to the most-nuked place on Earth for atomic swimming and fishing.

• Maniac (Limited Series)

Annie Landsberg and Owen Milgrim are two strangers who are drawn to the late stages of a mysterious pharmaceutical trial. Each has a different reason for participating in the experiment -- she is disaffected and aimless, fixated on broken relationships with her mother and sister, while he has struggled throughout his life with a disputed diagnosis of schizophrenia. The radical treatment, using pills that the inventor claims can repair anything about the mind, draws Annie, Owen and 10 other subjects into a three-day drug trial that they're told will permanently solve all of their problems, with no complications or side effects. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

• The Witcher (2 Seasons)

The witcher Geralt, a mutated monster hunter, struggles to find his place in a world where people often prove more wicked than beasts.

• Living with Yourself (Limited Series)

A man who's burned out on life and love undergoes a mysterious treatment, only to find that he's been replaced by a better version of himself.

• The Society (cancelled after one season unfortunately)

The Society follows a group of teenagers who are mysteriously transported to a facsimile of their wealthy New England town, left without any trace of their parents. As they struggle to figure out what has happened to them and how to get home, they must establish order and form alliances if they want to survive. The series is a modern take on Lord of the Flies.

• I Am Not Okay With This (1 Season)

I Am Not Okay With This is an irreverent origin story that follows a teenage girl who's navigating the trials and tribulations of high school, all while dealing with the complexities of her family, her budding sexuality, and mysterious superpowers just beginning to awaken deep within her.

• The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (1 Season)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance returns to the world of Thra with an all new adventure. When three Gelfling discover the horrifying secret behind the Skeksis' power, they set out on an epic journey to ignite the fires of rebellion and save their world.

• Grace and Frankie (6 Seasons)

Two nemeses become bonded jilted wives after their husbands reveal they have been having an affair with each other since the 1990s and now plan to get married.

• Special (1 Season)

A young gay man with cerebral palsy branches out from his insular existence in hopes of finally going after the life he wants.

• Russian Doll (1 Season)

Russian Doll follows a young woman named Nadia (Natasha Lyonne) on her journey as the guest of honor at a seemingly inescapable party one night in New York City.

• American Vandal (2 Seasons)

American Vandal is a half-hour true-crime satire that explores the aftermath of a costly high school prank that left twenty-seven faculty cars vandalized with phallic images. Over the course of the eight-episode season, an aspiring sophomore documentarian investigates the controversial and potentially unjust expulsion of troubled senior (and known dick-drawer) Dylan Maxwell. Not unlike its now iconic true-crime predecessors, the addictive American Vandal will leave one question on everyone's minds until the very end: Who drew the dicks?

• Immigration Nation (1 Season)

A rare and expansive look into the consequences of unfettered power, Immigration Nation is a powerful, harrowing indictment of the current state of American immigration.

#grey

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

What The Stark Spangled F**k?

One Shot- Finding Rori

Summary: Rori gets a pet. And hilarity/chaos ensues.

Warnings: Bad language words…

A/N: This came to me yesterday and is inspired by my own fairground goldfish, Evans, who is 5 this year. This one fits in the timeline after “Changes”

The Rogers household for once, was reasonably quiet. It was a Saturday afternoon and both Jamie and Aurora were out with Bucky and Sam, leaving Katie and Steve with just Harry (and bump, which was still in the very small, early bump stages being 16 weeks or so). Katie was led on the sofa, Stark squashed alongside her n his back whilst she read a book and Steve was led on the rug with Harry, the pair of them drawing on a large piece of paper using the crayons that Stark hadn’t eaten. The little boy was happily colouring along, grinning and talking to his Dad as he went, occasionally glancing up at Moana which was playing on the TV, sometimes he would start to imitate the singing, causing Katie to glance up and watch him, smiling softly. Out of their 3 born kids, he had without doubt been the easiest one to deal with. He hardly ever cried or made a fuss, never complained, he was such a placid little boy. The pair of them had no idea who he took after as neither of them were known for their patience or calmness really. And frankly, compared to his sister who could be the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, it was a welcome change. Which was why they liked to make time for him on his own as when the other 2 were around, they demanded all the attention, something which Katie hated, and Steve knew was worrying her about when baby number 4 arrived.

But their peace was shattered as the security system alerted them to the fact the gate had been opened by “Bucky Barnes” and Steve glanced up at the clock. It was gone 5, he hadn’t realised it was getting that late in the day. He let out a sigh, and exchanged a look with Katie who had placed her book down in preparation for the onslaught.

“BUCKY…BUCKY!” Steve yelled as Harry grinned, joining in and clapping.

“I told you not to buy her a damned goldfish Bucky!” Steve looked at him, shaking his head

“I didn’t.” Bucky shrugged “I won her one.”

“Fisheee!” Harry said as he toddled over to Rori to get a closer look.

“That’s…that’s a technicality!” Steve spluttered before he looked at Sam who shook his head.

“I had nothing to do with this man.”

“Don’t lie Uncle Sam.” Jamie said, dropping onto the sofa, Stark licking his face “You helped Rori pick the tank in the pet store.” “Traitor” Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

“You…” Steve pointed at Bucky as he stood up from the rug “Are the biggest jerk ever, you know that?”

Bucky grinned innocently as Rori turned to Katie who examined the fish before she gave a shake of her head and sighed.

“Well it’s hear now so we might as well set the tank up.” And just like that, the Star Spangled Diva once more got her own way, as half an hour or so later, said bastard fish was safely in its new home, the tank sitting on the corner unit in the den where Steve had placed it once it had been filled and the ornaments arranged EXACTLY how Rori wanted them.

“I think we should call it Klaus.” Jamie said.

“What the hell kinda name is that?” Bucky looked at him.

“The fish from American Dad.” Jamie shrugged.

“Ok, ok two things…” Steve looked at Jamie “One, me and your Ma told you that you were far too young to watch that and therefore were not allowed and two, I echo what Buck just said, what the hell kinda name is that?”

“The fish can talk.” Jamie said “And he’s German, used to be a guy until the CIA turned him into a fish and-“ “Ok, just no.” Steve shook his head “The fish is not being called Klaus and if I catch you watching that again, I’m gonna take the plug off your TV” “Oh come on dad, like you didn’t watch shows you weren’t allowed to when you were my age.” Jamie protested and Katie gave a snort.

“Yeah, like TV existed back then…” Sam snorted.

Jamie frowned for a moment before a look of realisation spread across his face “Oh yeah…” “Most Exciting thing we saw was the Wizard of Oz.” Bucky said, nostalgically “Man, Technicolour…what a revelation.” “That’s so whack.” Jamie mumbled.

“Ok, now you’re talking and I’m hearing words but…” Steve shrugged and grinned as Jamie aimed a dig at him which Steve easily dodged. The two began to play spar with one another, their laugher and exclamations getting louder until Rori cut across the noise as she moved her head from where she was looking at the fish in its tank. “I’m going to call her Dori.” she said. Steve stopped what he was doing, which allowed Jamie to land a punch to his arm, which in all fairness was pretty fucking hard.

“I said her name. Imma call her Dori, like in Finding Nemo and Finding Dori…” she shrugged “And it’s like my name…”

“Dori and Rori.” Katie grinned at her daughter “Hey, Finding Rori…gedddit?”

Rori grinned and Hi-Fived her Momma the pair of them laughing whilst Steve and Jamie exchanged a look.

“Nah, I think you should call it Dot.” Bucky said simply. Steve turned to look at him. “What? It’s orangey red…so was her hair…”

“No,it’s Dori” Rori corrected him.

“Dot is better.”

“Dori!”

“Dot!”

“DORI MY FISH, MY NAME UNCLE BUCKY!” Rori stamped her foot. And Katie turned to look at her, a firm expression on her face but it was Steve that issued the warning.

“Aurora enough!” he said sternly “Stop it, and you…” he pointed at Bucky who grinned at him “Stop antagonising her”

“Chaos, confusion…my work here is done…” Bucky grinned, giving Steve a salute. “Same time next week?”

******* It was a few weeks later when disaster struck…

“Steeeeeeve!” Katie’s yell hit his ears and he stiffened slightly, before he put down his mug and hurried out of the kitchen and into the den.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned. She simply pointed to the corner of the room where Dori’s tank sat and he saw the orange fish bobbing on the surface.

Dead

“Oh fuck.” He swallowed. “How did that happen?”

“Well, I’m no expert but I suspect the half disintegrated cookie at the bottom of the tank might be something to do with it.” Katie sighed.

“I told her not to feed it them.” Steve groaned.

“You’re gonna have to go get a new one.” Katie looked at him “Before she gets back because I can’t cope with a diva meltdown Steve, not today.”

“Me?” Steve looked at her

“Yes, you.” Katie said. “I was up all night as you know, I can’t stop puking, I’m tired and you’re not in today and…”

“S’up Punk?” Bucky greeted him.

“Me and you got a mission, a big mission.” Steve said, “Meet me at the Coffee shop in 30.”

“I need one of these” Steve explained, showing the fish to him.

“You need a goldfish, Sir?” “Yeah but it needs to look exactly like this one.” Steve said.

“Think she’ll notice?” Steve asked, looking at Katie.

“Shit…” Katie mumbled, as they both headed into the room.

“Everything ok?”

“Why does Dori have a white spot on her tail?” Rori looked at her mom and dad.

“Where?” Steve frowned.

“There!” She exclaimed, pointing. Steve leaned down to look and there was the tiniest white spot on the tip of the fish’s tail, no bigger than a pin prick.

A little later, once Jamie, Rori and Harry were in bed, Katie and Steve sat down to dinner.

“I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Steve sighed, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork “I mean, of all the missions we’ve run…”

Katie chuckled, “You know, when I was a kid I had a goldfish. Tony got him for my 8th birthday, called him Flounder, you know after the fish in the little mermaid?”

“Yeah?” Steve looked at her.

Steve paused, his fork raised halfway to his mouth before he gave a groan. “So basically I’ve turned into Tony?”

“There are worse people you could have become.” Katie snorted as Steve shook his head, swallowing his food.

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Steve looked at her “I mean, can you blame me? She’s basically Tony with your looks.”

You little shit.

“5 bucks.” Steve opened the negotiation.

“15.” shot back Jamie.

“10.”

“Deal.” Jamie grinned. “Night dad.” “Yeah, whatever…” Steve grumbled, closing the bedroom door behind him. He stopped dead as he saw Katie looking at him, her hands on her hips.

“Did you seriously just let him do that?” she shook her head.

“Do you wanna deal with a diva tantrum?”

“Steve, he just completely…”

“I know what he did, Doll.” Steve sighed, following her into their room “And for the record, this is on you.” “Me?” she frowned as he reached out, his arms wrapping around her from behind, hands softly cupping her bump. “Yes, because that part of him that just blackmailed me, was 100% Stark.” he said, placing a kiss to her neck.

Katie tilted her head and looked at him with narrowed eyes. He arched an eyebrow at her and she gave a snort, shaking her head. “Who knew your own daughter would be your downfall.”

“She’s Tony but with your looks.” Steve shrugged “What do you expect?”

“Well…” she mused “You said you’d give him 10 bucks but you didn’t say when. You can point this out to him tomorrow, if he wants it he can have it when he’s tidied his room.” “That’s…sneaky” Steve grinned.

“Fight fire with fire Soldier.” she smirked “You pointed out he’s half Stark…well, I’m 100% Stark, which means I can out Stark him all day long.”

#what the stark spangled fuck #stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

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artsy-hobbitses · 4 years

Note

Is that an ongoing drawing of Terminus with baby Megatron and Impactor watching over Terminus' shoulder? Because Imma die of cute real soon if it is.

Me going the whole ten miles with “Terminus is Megatron’s father figure” because my weakness for dads is all consuming :’3

Morgan’s arrival at the mining community was a bit unexpected because he wasn’t sent to them with the fresh batch he should have been part of several days back—-the census takers who gave him to Thaddeus said it was weird because he was extremely sickly for inexplicable reasons and they thought he’d be too weak to survive beyond a week in the mines but he was alright all the sudden (Thanks Whirl) so they guess he’s got a little fight in him after all, enough to work down here at least.

Children are mostly raised communally in Thaddeus’ mining community, but he’d lost his wife recently so to cope in a time of loss, he becomes more attached to this late-blooming ‘little fighter’ than the rest do, so much so that Morgan’s specifically referred to as his boy.

Impactor (god I have to figure out a name for him) is pretty much Morgan’s big brother for the whole time they knew each other. He thinks it’s pretty cool how something so small and scrawny must have fought real hard to live, and as he grows up he really doesn’t get Morgan’s thing with books when there’s more fun things to do (trouble mostly) but he likes that Morgan stands up for stuff even if it means getting the shit kicked out of him and ain’t afraid to say it like it is, even if his head is up in the clouds sometimes. You’re small and kinda weird, but you got moxie, kiddo.

#Humanformers AU

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ll-underestimated-ll · 3 years

Text

Answering All Questions from a Prompt Cos I Do What I Want

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid?

The first time he woke up to find that what he’d dismissed as being entirely the formation of one of his nightmares - was very much real. Prompted the realisation of just how much harm he was capable of doing.

2. Does your character have a deep and/or dark secret? If so, what is it?

Leo doesn’t let people know that his sire & grandsire never entirely aligned themselves with the Camarilla. Considering it took him some time to work that out himself he holds hope that at his current age people simply won’t go digging. There is also generally a lot of things he’s done in the name of fulfilling some role or another that he feels deep shame for. That’s less kept secret and more... he just doesn’t speak about it.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them?

Many. Regularly. Loss is simply part of un-life for him. The fact he hasn’t lost anyone near and dear to him over the last half a century hangs over him like a bad omen. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But a short list of the most notable losses that had an summary of their impact on him: - Eldest brother : sickness/starvation ~1510 - resulted in Leo taking on a survivalist ‘me before others’ attitude. - Best friend : first feed post-embrace 1516 - made him terrified of himself for several years - First wife : Mother order him to burn her to death late-1520s - made him highly aware of the fact that he can be turned on people he’s cared about - Ell (one of his ‘siblings’) : sent on a suicide mission Mother had him sign off on ~1630?1620? - was the last straw in hammering home what he’d already seen over the course of being blood bonded. They were all disposable to her, and it was only a matter of time before he’d meet the same fate. - Nossie he’d fallen for : execution 1940s - after he had committed several masquerade breaches Vindr ordered Leo to use trust he had with him to follow through with the execution. It’d been a long time since he’d killed someone that dear to him and the ease at which he did it unsettled even himself.

4. Has your character ever been hurt or betrayed by someone they thought they could depend on? What happened?

Yes. He’d had ‘siblings’ try to double-cross him on plenty of occasions. Usually was via trying to pin the blame for something on him.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves?

Yes.

6. Have they ever committed a crime, or something they felt was wrong? What was it?

The entire Crimes Act. At least, as far as he has the capacity for doing so.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why?

Vindr. The time spent blood bonded to each other between 1860 - 1989.

8. Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

There are several hunters based in the country he’s trying to figure out how to get rid off without causing a scene or draw any attention to. They’re a threat to his community.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse?

Yes.

10. What were the character’s parents like? What was the affect the parents had on the character?

His father was a minor merchant managing the coming and goings of goods from his home village. His work placed them above standard serfdom allowing him the chance to learn basic reading and writing before his sire (Mother) adopted him. Any influence they had on him has long since been overshadowed by other things.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms?

Burying himself in work and activities. Finding relatable aspects in fictional characters. Joking around and making the most of opportunities where he doesn’t have to take things too seriously.

12. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?

After lifetimes of suffering he’d prefer to avoid it. However he does have a cruel streak and enjoy seeing other people suffer. Has that ‘it’ll build character’ and ‘it’s not that bad so suck it up’ sort of attitude towards other peoples shit. Sometimes he just wants someone to suffer as a way to exercise control over them.

13. What does it take to make your character cry?

Simultaneously a lot, and also real minor stuff. Ya know, the standard shit to come from suppressing/bottling up your reactions to incredibly straining situations. He’ll be cold and apathetic in some incredibly horrible situation he ought to cry about. Then some time later break down post screaming fit at some inanimate object because it wasn’t cooperating with him.

14. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Other than his prioritisation of maintaining his own power and survival over anything else? The fact he’s stuck at 16 years old. That’s an incredibly difficult thing to work around - even when in a relationship based purely on romantic feelings. These modern nights he feels that both physical and overall age lock him out of legitimate relationships entirely. To the point where he doesn’t even play at stringing people along on one sided things ~for the drama~ like he used to.

This particular reason is what’s had him friendzoned by the twins, despite them being the best probably candidate and him pulling kind of a Edward on them.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Biggest fear is hard to pinpoint, but in general the concept of being completely helpless and not in control of his own actions. When scared he gets paranoid and hyper-vigilant of his surroundings. Very on guard towards any threats and looking for away to run away.

16. What are your character’s vices and bad habits?

Impulsiveness. Knowingly causing harm. Smoking.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not?

Absolutely. He doesn’t even like to think about what final death will have in store for him.

18. Would society call your character a good guy or a bad guy? what would they say they are?

From societies perspective from everything he’s been involved with - 120% a bad guy. He’d say the same and mark himself down as being an Anti-hero at best.

19. What is your character insecure about?

His own paranoia causing him to flip from being impulse to being incredibly indecisive at times.

20. What was something they struggled with greatly and how did they overcome it?

Being blood bonded. Overcome through a mix of share force of will and personal introspection.

21. Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them? If so, who are they and what is your character’s relation to them? If not, do they wish they did? Is there anyone they wish they could build such a relationship with?

While he doesn’t think he’d give his lives for them because that sort of behaviour is incredibly foolish in his eyes - his current found family from the past century. His central coterie of the twins and Alexandra in particular. He will throw just about everyone in his city under the bus in the name of protecting them. And, they’d do the same. In post-prince verse when his city falls Alex ends up the one sacrificing her life for him and god the guilt is sickening.

He’s quite happy with his current little familial circle but he’s hoping to get closer with Danny. Get him to be part of that found family circle properly.

22. If they could change just one thing about themselves, what would it be?

He’d like to have the capacity to care for people without feeling like he’s going to inevitably be their downfall.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this?

If we’re talking strong in terms of taking blows that can be taken I wanna say physically cos despite it being his lowest stat his Fortitude is high so he soaks damage fairly easily.

24. What is your character’s most important possession? Why?

He still has his signet ring from when he fled his Mother. Not even he knows just how much that it means to him. It’s intensely sentimental to him as the only physical possession he has left of that era of his life. Someone stole it from him while he was living in London and he made quite the mess of them to get it back.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them?

He flip flops wildly between caring intensely about what others think of him and not giving a singular shit. It depends on the crowd and his motivations. In general his preference is to have people to like him and see him as above them in some way.

26. What, in your character’s life, puts the most pressure on them?

The community he’s Prince of. He sees his role as being to protect them at the end of the day and sometimes that means doing things they don’t like. But doing things they dislike gets push back and push back de-legitimises his power as Prince.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion?

How he almost died when I used him briefly as a PC. Disgraced. Looked down upon with no dignity by everyone around him in a city he’s unfamiliar with. Nobody. Nothing. The last of his city. A waste of the self sacrifice from those he loved. Crying, screaming desperately trying to claw his way out of capture at the hands of those that don’t know tossing him in a holding cell where light can get to him will kill him.

28. What is your character’s greatest strength?

In mun’s opinion, the fact that despite everything he’s been through and seen...the fact that he just keeps going.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most?

Social manipulation so that combat is avoided in the first place. But, he’s always had a liking for firearms and actually quite likes using them. He dislikes fighting with his bare hands.

30. What makes them feel safe or secure? What makes them feel insecure or unsafe?

He feels most safe when either alone or the only people around him are those he has blood bonded. He feels deeply uncomfortable around kindred that are of a lower generation than him. With dominate as a main discipline he finds that not being able to resort to it suddenly makes all interactions with the person he’s interacting with very threatening.

#long post #ooc #about

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bow-woahh · 5 years

Text

She-Ra Fics Masterlist

(It’s 100% Catradora but hey)

Started: 12/10/19 Last updated: 28/10/20

Multi-chapters:

Catradora —

What drove her insane... (Canon Divergent)(Completed) (4/4)(13k+)(Ao3 only)

There were a lot of things Adora would do that would get to Catra. A lot of things that would make Catra melt inside or combust. Or both. Things that would make her feel this intense feeling in her stomach, these flips, these... butterflies, is what she thought of them as.

Similarly, Adora didn't think she had many weaknesses, but most things Catra would do drove her up the wall. In a good way. In the best way. In a way that made her heart feel like it was about to hop out of her ribcage, that made her feel she was about to faint, from an unfamiliar, yet familiar, dazed dizziness.

Both of them drove each other insane.

Heal me after hurting (Modern AU)(Completed) (3/3)(29k+)(Ao3 only)

A million feelings she’s been fighting off for months threaten to overwhelm her: feelings of deep and utter care; of complete adoration; feelings of hot and harsh hatred; of absolute disdain; and abandonment, definitely abandonment; to confusion, anxiety, all bubbling as she tries to calm herself down; eyes closed, chanting the mantra:

you are in control, you are stronger now. ___

Catra gets sick and someone unexpected turns up to help.

bloom (just for you) (High School AU)(Ongoing) (8/?)(68k+)(Ao3 only)

She was probably about to tell her to fuck off, though maybe—hopefully—she'd say it nicely. Catra closed her eyes and hoped when she opened them that this whole situation was just a figment of her imagination. Instead, she saw a one word reply. One single word.

bet.

Adora Grayskull is the popular jock, the golden girl, the one that everyone loves. Catra D’riluth is the opposite. Yet despite this, they form an unlikely bond.

One shots:

Catradora —

What (Who) drives her to this? (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Both Catra and Adora are tired. Both Catra and Adora reach a breaking point. Both Catra and Adora need to stop thinking. And when they do what will it drive them to do?

Catra’s Last Day (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has been anticipating this for months now, and now it's finally come - her last day at the Horde.

As the Sun Sets (Canon Compliant - Post S1)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

Watching the sunset was one way to end your day back at the Horde...

damn you, unrequited love (High school AU)(7k+)(Ao3 only)

Unrequited love sucks. That's what both Adora and Catra think.

Don’t sneak into the kitchen (Unless your girlfriend tells you to) (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has a bad habit of getting into mischief and Adora has a bad habit of agreeing to get into mischief with her.

They sneak into a kitchen and make a mess.

As the Petal Falls (Beauty and the Beast AU)(1.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Shadow Weaver comes to kill the beast and take back Adora, who to her knowledge is a hostage there, when she has actually chosen to stay there - with Catra.

If I was perfect (Modern Family AU)(2.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Call it a coincidence, but just as Adora said the word “baby” (for the second time actually), Catra had choked on her own saliva.

How had children not crossed her mind before?

Two Sides Of The Same Coin (Gang AU)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

"Come on, Catra! You know better than to trust the horde!"

"And you know better than to trust the Rebellion!"

"The Horde is manipulating you!"

"At least they don't hide it and do it behind your back!"

OR AU where the Rebellion is manipulating Adora and she doesn't realise (but Catra does)

I could get used to the sound of her voice (Royalty AU)(3.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Princess Adora was lucky enough for her parents not to marry her to a man. But, Princess Adora didn’t feel lucky in the slightest when she learned her wife to be was a right pain in the backside – or so she thought.

Who knew that all it would take for Princess Adora to fall was her voice?

Fiction will make you think (what if it was real?) (YouTuber AU)(8k+)(Ao3 only)

All of a sudden, a new thought hits her like a train. Why does it matter so much? Image? Catra doesn’t exactly have a good one anyway, and if anything, it would be worse for Adora. But she is already in most of her videos, so clearly Adora doesn’t care either. So what would actually change?

Wait, Catra’s train of thought stops. Why am I thinking about dating Adora anyway?

A YouTuber AU

Perspective (Prison AU)(25.5k+)(Ao3 only)

"Like you caved in Adora, you took the dive, and was it worth it?"

Adora looked at Catra, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I guess not."

Although, Adora couldn't deny that she felt almost lucky to have met someone like Catra, even if it was in here.

Twelve months. Adora had earned herself twelve months in Prison — it was virtually hell on earth. Or it least it should have been, if not for a certain someone.

Sink my teeth to save you (Vampire AU)(1.5k+) — Ao3 link —

“How did...what are you?”

The stranger stroked her chin, pondering something, then said, “Well, I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about," flashing her abnormally sharp fang like teeth, almost in a grin, though it felt more like she was just showing off.

I'll be your crutch to cope (College/Modern AU)(1.5k+) —Ao3 link —

A late night (or early morning) text from Catra’s roommate leads to more than she bargains for.

Do you know any spells to get rid of this thing? (Modern with Magic AU)(2.5k+)—Ao3 link—

“You know, like, spells and stuff, right?” Adora asks, hold a little looser on her wrist.

“Uh...yeah?” Catra replies, baffled.

Catra’s a mage in training and Adora comes to her with a ridiculous request.

Christmas wouldn't be so bad (with you) (Modern Christmas AU)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra wants to reject her responsibilities and problems for one night. Though, she can't avoid the one right in front of her for much longer.

As our differences divide us (Canon Divergent )(3.2k+)—Ao3 link—

Adora believes in the Horde. Catra doesn’t.

An AU where Adora (with the sword) stays with the Horde and Catra leaves for the Rebellion.

Lost my heart (now you've taken it back) (Valentine's AU)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra decides to make her first Valentine's with Adora a memorable experience.

Demons hiding underneath (Modern Gang AU)(3.3k+)—Ao3 link —

She kept plummeting deeper and deeper into the once beautiful blue abyss. And the further down she got, the more Adora realised it was closer to darkness than blue. It seemed she would continue falling, falling into the darkness until—

“Adora?”

—

They may be running away, escaping from their problems, but that doesn’t mean Adora can avoid her own too.

Distressing (over you) (Modern Superhero AU)(3.1k+)(Ao3 only)

Wearing her signature smug smirk, she stood, hands on her hips with a knowing look. Despite how many times she'd seen her in the familiar getup before, it somehow always managed to get her stomach lurching: those thigh highs which somehow weren't impractical; the crimson red suit which clung to her body in all the right places (arguably there were no wrong ones); the black sleeves which came up to cover her hands; and the red mask with pointed ears obscuring her face. However, the blue-gold glow of her eyes was still inexplicably Catra. It still captured her essence. At least to Adora.

things you said with clenched fists (Modern AU)(1.5k+)—Ao3 link—

Alone, at loss for words, but still – I've won and I've lost but I've fell and I've fucked it up

An argument which stems from lies, deception and the past.

things you said when you were drunk (Modern AU)(1.6k+)(Ao3 only)

As Catra took her hand, with her mismatched eyes gleaming, and flashing her pearly white teeth in a grin, the smells, the noises of all the people around them dissolved into nothing more than white noise.

The aftershock (of your touch) (Modern Soulmates AU)(28k+)(Ao3 only)

“When one finds their soulmate, they don’t immediately know that is the case. Some believe it is a way for the universe, for the great First Ones to test our ability to listen to its calling, to let us steer the wheel to our own fates. Others believe it is an act of cruelty—to try our patience, to punish us for being unable to love without any inhibitions. No matter what one believes, it doesn’t rid us of the fact that finding one's other half does not allow for instant gratification.”

—

Catra, jaded by her past, moves to Bright Moon to start a new life, and finds herself growing increasingly closer to her neighbour, Adora. Initially, she's apprehensive, but no matter what she does, something draws her to the girl, and a revelation causes it to make a lot of sense—and none at all.

all the time in the world (Post-Canon)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

In space, it feels like they have all the time in the world. All the time to relearn the new parts of each other, all the time to indulge the old parts of each other, all the time to simply just be.

You have their attention (and I want yours) (Modern AU - Actors)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

It’s all made worse when Catra does look in her direction, searching for none other than Adora’s eyes. She sees her sitting there, seething, and all she does is raise an eyebrow, then after a moment, grin. She can tell. And that only makes Adora more agitated as Catra turns back to the crowd and that girl is practically hanging off her arm. Now, Adora really is contemplating going up there, kissing the smirk of Catra’s face where everyone can see.

a regular customer of mine (Modern AU - Bakery)(3.9k)(Ao3 only)

Catra works at a bakery and Adora comes by every day trying to build up the courage to ask her out (unbeknownst to her).

Headcanons + Shorter Works:

Catradora —

Fate Only Plays a Part (Canon divergent)(Ao3 only)

Adora finds a wounded and almost lifeless Catra in the woods and decides to bring her back to the castle.

I want to be with you when I grow up (Canon Divergent)(Ao3 only)

They are supposed to be fighting- they should be killing each other.

But they never can. And they never will.

Bad Dreams (Canon Divergent)

She tastes like coffee (Modern AU)

I like me better when I'm with you (Modern AU)

Adora's birthday (Canon Divergent)

The Start of Something Wonderful (Canon Divergent)

Catradora Summer AU (Modern AU)(Snippet)

things you said when we forgave each other (Post-Canon)(Written before S5)

Reunion (S5 speculation)

#catradora #spop #spop fics #catradora fics #micahs writing #micahs fics #masterlist #spop masterlist #shera #she ra masterlist #about time i made one #so your welcome

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dancedelion · 4 years

Text

Be Good to Me (part 3 / 3)

Genre: angst with a happy ending, Beauty and the Beast AU Summary: Jaskier has just been broken up with (again), he has nowhere to stay (again) and people are booing his songs (again). He overhears the villagers talk about a beast in a castle in the woods. Then they mention it's supposed to be dangerous. Well, now he's got no other choice. That beast won't even know what's coming for it. (Geralt doesn't.) Ao3: Be Good to Me part 1, part 2

So Jaskier's plan didn't quite work out. It's not unheard of. But if Jaskier knows anything, it's how to improvise. So, when Geralt doesn't look like a monster, and then doesn't act like a monster, Jaskier learns to cope. New plan: stay and get to know Geralt, bring a fantastic song back to the village, get rich. Or something like that.

Geralt has built walls around the walls around his walls, but Jaskier is nothing if not stubborn.

And then Geralt puts a blanket on him, and listens to his songs, under only small protests, and picks books out for him he thinks he'll like – and then he saves two girls from monsters – and Jaskier needs to revise his plan again. Stay and get to know Geralt, bring a fantastic song back to the village, get rich.

The audacity, really, of that man – to be sweet where he should be callous, to be beautiful where he should be monstrous. Jaskier was promised a frightening monster, and instead what he got is this – this disgustingly kindhearted, annoyingly pretty man. This stupid-jokes, incredible-with-a-sword, doesn't-even-look-old-with-white-hair man. Get away from me with your dumb puppy eyes. He seems to think the villagers are right – like he's a monster, has he looked in the mirror even once? You'd think a witcher knows his monsters.

All “don't love me”, all “fear me”, all talk, no substance. How dare you. How dare you be soft with your horse. How dare you look at me like you're fond of me.

It's obnoxious, loathsome, against the law, and just horribly unfair, really. Had the villagers just said extremely nice man lives in a castle, Jaskier never would have come.

How dare Geralt be loveable where he should be – how dare he be loveable.

Oh no. Oh fuck.

Jaskier keeps his eyes on Geralt and Fiona in the middle of the entrance hall, with their sword practice, and thinks to himself – if Geralt does something even mildly unlikable right now, it was all just a fluke. If he picks his nose or something, then that's it, none of that lovey-dovey stuff. But in that moment, Geralt ruffles through Fiona's hair – the vicious bastard. The vile, cruel, completely diabolical, sweet, adorable – fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jaskier is known to do something stupid every now and again, but this takes it to a whole new level.

Geralt has had his share of days. Bright, bright days. A life he almost got to have. But here is the yellow buttercup. The last one.

It's quiet for once, everyone else asleep. Only Geralt is sitting in front of the fire, contemplating a week long life. It'll be a good week, he thinks. Better than any that came before.

“Geralt.” Geralt turns his head. Jaskier is hesitantly stepping closer and eventually sinks down next to him. Geralt stares into the fire and waits for him to speak.

“What's wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?” “It's that buttercup, isn't it? Is it the last one?” Jaskier picks it up from out of his hand and swirls it in his fingers. Geralt just watches him do it.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Geralt says, “it was never my place to begin with. Not really.”

“You sound as if you're leaving.”

Jaskier turns the buttercup again, its stem thin and breakable between his fingers.

“Would you take care of Roach?”

Jaskier looks up. “You would leave without her?”

“I mean in case. Just in case something happened.”

“Just tell me what's going on.”

“Tell me you're going to take care of Roach.”

Jaskier is tense beside Geralt. Firelight dances in his eyes.

“Of course I'd take care of Roach,” he says, “but you need to tell me. Tell me why you're here.” He looks at Geralt intently and Geralt has the sudden urge to shuffle away, out of the light and back into the shadow. But he stays. He knows the light paints him red, like blood, like rage, like a setting sun.

He has his hand in a tight fist, but something makes him want to open his palm.

“It's a curse,” he says tersely.

“A curse?”

Geralt's teeth gnash together.

“I'm sorry, but I'll need you to elaborate. Curse? What's that mean? There's all kinds of curses, all kinds of -” “What do you know about what happened in Blaviken?” “Uhm,” Jaskier says uncertainly, “I don't know. I heard... people died. Villagers. Lots of them.”

Here is the wordsmith, speechless in the face of the Butcher of Blaviken. Geralt nearly snorts.

“Yes. It was a complicated affair. I had to – I -”

Geralt swallows. He sees her in the fire before him, her rage.

“I killed her men. They were threatening innocents. She, she was. She was so – angry. The world had wronged her over and over. I'm not sure I made the right choice. I – I'm not sure there was a right choice.”

He doesn't want to say this out loud, he wants to keep it in his chest forever and ever. He slowly lets his palm fall open.

“There's no excuse for what I did. It felt like the only thing to do. So I did. I – she -” He shakes his head. (He digs in his heart, digs deeply, until he finds where he buried her name.) “Renfri.”

Each sound of it is hard to lay bare, but he manages it. There is not a lot more pain to be had. (Seven days of it.) Jaskier doesn't react, he just listens. (Would it be easier if he wouldn't?) “And one of her men had a wife. A witch. She was angry, too. She got the jump on me. I was... not at my best. She brought me to this castle. Cursed me. That's why I can't leave here. And she cursed that bouquet of yellow buttercups. I would have time until all of them wilted to break the spell, and if I didn't, then...”

“Then what?”

“I don't know. I didn't ask for specifics.” Geralt draws his shoulders together.

“She didn't say anything about what will happen if you don't break the curse?” “I just assumed it was your average death spell. I was a little too preoccupied trying to fight her to have a lovely chat.”

She had been powerful, she had to be to enchant this entire castle. And he'd tried to fight her, but his spells has been weak and Renfri's face had been at the forefront of his mind.

“Okay, okay. It doesn't matter. What's important is, how can you break the spell?”

“I think she was going to tell me. Right before I nearly got her at the throat and she teleported away. So I'm just assuming it's the standard 'True love's kiss' horseshit.” “So what we have to go on is... nothing, basically. Great. I mean, at least we know she left you that magic dinner table, so she's clearly not a completely evil witch, maybe moderately evil, where would you estimate her on the evil scale? Geralt? One to ten?” “Jaskier,” Geralt growls and grits his teeth. Jaskier stares at him. Geralt stares back. Jaskier stares some more. “Six,” Geralt says, “maybe seven. Her laugh did kind of sound like a cackle.”

“Okay, that means maybe we still have a chance to crack this, right? Maybe it does have to do with love. I mean, I mean, we still got one buttercup left?”

“It's a week.” “A week, right, we can work with that. Cause I'm not going to let you die, you know that right? I won't let you leave, you don't get off that easily. Fiona won't either, you still haven't taught her how to fight with a sword properly, and after that comes daggers and maybe the crossbow or bow and arrow – and she doesn't know how to hold a silver sword yet? And I've written like two songs about you that you haven't heard, and don't think I'm stopping there either, I'm writing another twenty and if you're not there to hear every single one of them, I'm going to be so mad. Mad. And you've never been there to witness it, but believe me, you don't want me mad at you. I'm going to -” “Jaskier.” “Yes?” “I'm sorry.”

Jaskier is crying and he won't stop talking and Geralt feels like something is wrapped tightly around his chest.

“No, listen,” Jaskier says, his voice cracking, “I'm going to find you somebody to love. I'll go back into the village, wolves and monsters be damned.” And if you get lost, you will follow the trail of blood I have left behind? With corpses for milestones? I don't think so.

Jaskier has stopped twirling the buttercup in his hand. He is holding it almost reverently now. He looks down at it pensively. “Maybe someone out there will want you,” he says.

Only out there?

There is nothing for you to find. Climb into the mirror if you want to find me someone to love. But if you're looking for someone who can love me? Yeah, good luck with that.

“Don't leave,” Geralt says and has to keep himself from adding please. ***

Jaskier wants to scream. You need true love's kiss? Fine. I'll go into the village and find a woman who's favorite color is yellow. I'll go into the village and find a woman who knows how to tame a scared horse. I'll do anything.

But Geralt is shaking his head.

“It's too late,” he says, “no one falls in love in one week.”

Do people fall in love in degrees? Each infuriating thing you say, I fall further in your direction? Do I stumble at your lovely grunts, your intensely amber eyes? And the worst part is there, right there, is Geralt's open palm.

“I do,” Jaskier says absently, “I can fall in love in one evening, if the object of my affection so demands.” He lifts his gaze when he says it, tries to catch Geralt's gaze – but how do gazes ever meet? What is the likelihood of two people being in the same place? Is love a trade or thievery? Is it my love for your love or do we steal smiles and honeyed words from strangers? Do we hook our fingers in unwatched places and tear each other apart? Is it tear for tear for tear? For a moment, Jaskier thinks Geralt is going to look at him, but then he looks back into the fire. “Well, most people aren't fools like you,” he says. Do only fools fall for you or does falling turn you into a fool?

Jaskier's fingers itch to reach out – he itches to entangle their fingers in a way that is irresolvable.

“Then I guess,” Jaskier says and wets his lips, “we have a few days left then. Make the most of it?”

He lets his fingers ghost over Geralt's palm, holding his breath. Jaskier gathers all the courage he can muster and reaches down, flattens out Geralt's fingers.

Geralt stares down at their hands, not pressed together, fingers not entangled, just palm against palm. Jaskier doesn't know what to say other than I'm right here, so he presses his lips together.

But then Geralt pulls his hand away and it's as clear a rejection as Jaskier's ever going to get.

Why are you so scared of what I'll find once you've let me past the guards of your castle? Are you scared I'll walk into a room with broken tiles that you haven't cleaned for years? Are you scared the sight of the rodents that you let die in there is going to send me in a panic and make me wreck your cabinets? Or are you scared I'll stay?

*** Geralt can't bear it. He doesn't know what he'll do – smile, cry, take a grip – but it's all terrifying.

You think I am a cruse you can break. I'm nothing for you to fix. There is no curse, there's just me. It's all me. I have no man hidden away beneath these monstrous eyes.

Jaskier draws his hand away again, starts fumbling with his fingers.

I'm not your adventure path, I'm not your escape from an ordinary life, I'm not your prince. All that I am is right here. A pair of yellow eyes in the dark.

Geralt looks away into the far corner of the room.

Do you think I want to be your tragic love story? A sad song you won't share with anyone else? Do you think I want you to think of me when you smell blood?

Geralt can feel Jaskier's eyes on him, but Jaskier never really sees. So Geralt gets up and walks away, out of the room, before he asks for more than he is allowed to have.

*** Days are shorter the less you have left of them.

*** The flower will die in hours. At sunrise. (At the beginning or the end of it? Will Geralt have another sunrise?)

“Go to sleep,” he says to Jaskier, who has been talking to him for hours.

“I'm not going to sleep,” Jaskier says. “I'm not missing a second of this.”

“There's nothing to miss,” Geralt says, “go to sleep.”

“No way.” “Will you go if I come with you?” “What – you mean, like -”

“Hm.”

“Okay. Okay. Just a reminder, though, you're the one who suggested this. No take-backs!” Geralt harrumphs.

“Unless you wanted to take it back! You can change your mind, of course. But I'd really rather -” “Jaskier.”

They lay down next to each other on the bed Jaskier has been sleeping in. Jaskier turns on his side and stares at him. Geralt waits a few minutes. But if he only has one night left, he'd rather look at Jaskier, so he turns too. The moonlight comes in dim, makes Jaskier's face blue. Geralt studies the line of his delicate nose, the soft looking lips, the eyebrows.

Eventually, he can't stop himself. Jaskier's eyes are blue, blue, blue.

There is not a lot of time left to say things, so Geralt makes an exception.

“I thought I was going to be alone.”

He says it quietly, like a secret not to be heard.

“I told you you can't get rid of me,” Jaskier answers, just as quietly.

It's hard to keep himself from touching the small smile on Jaskier's face. “I'm glad,” Geralt admits.

He doesn't quite understand why Jaskier lets him have this, but he doesn't want to think about it just now.

*** Jaskier knows better than to touch, this time. But he can look, so he will. Does Geralt seriously think he would walk away if Geralt had horns? Does he think Jaskier wouldn't adore him if he had claws instead of hands? Geralt thinks his eyes are so horrible, but Jaskier would love him if he didn't have any eyes or twelve of them. I know the shape of your heart, whether you want me to or not.

Tomorrow, Jaskier will take Roach and get out of this place. He will probably never find something, someone like this again. So he'll go without aim.

Jaskier stays quiet, for once. The small distance between them feels fragile. The air is loaded with all the words not spoken.

They lay for a long time, like they are memorizing each other's faces – Jaskier knows he is. And then he dares again -

“You like to think these walls are here to protect the world from the monster safely locked inside,” Jaskier whispers. “But that's not really true, is it, Geralt?” He shifts just a little closer.

“Who hurt you?”

It's silent for a long while and Jaskier thinks Geralt is not going to answer. But then it come, really quietly -

“No one hurt me. I did. Hurt someone.”

*** The ache is quiet now, almost gentle. The twilight makes the world seem dulled, obscures its harshest parts.

“I didn't love her,” Geralt whispers, “I barely knew her. But I liked her. I thought – I thought she understood me. I let her – I -” Even now, it's hard to say, but if he's going to say this anytime, to anyone, it'll be here. To Jaskier.

“She was going to kill that girl, the little girl -” Get out of Blaviken, Geralt.

“I fought her and won. And I thought, if I'm going to have to lose the fight some day, why couldn't it be this one?”

She'd had such big brown eyes.

“I killed Ren – I kil-” That's as far as he'll ever get to saying it.

Geralt closes his eyes, so he won't have to see the disgust on Jaskier's face. Here I hide my yellow eyes, Jaskier, do you understand me now?

But then there is a touch to his cheek. He can feel Jaskier's fingernails on his cheekbone. To scratch? Geralt would let him.

He thinks of Fiona and Zofia, who he couldn't bear to tell the truth. They would hate him – or worse, be disappointed – no more sword lessons – no more dinners – he would lose the only thing he won't be losing now – their fond memories of him.

You have been sharing your bed with the Butcher of Blaviken. Do you understand what it means now? He opens his eyes a little, because he won't die with his eyes closed.

There is no anger on Jaskier's face. Just a soft smile.

Can I keep it? At least until the sun rises?

“It's okay,” Jaskier says. “It's okay.” Geralt has to hold in a gasp.

“You were between a rock and a hard place,” Jaskier whispers, “you had to make a tough decision. That doesn't make you a monster.”

Jaskier's hand is cold against his face, but Geralt's chest feels warm.

“Do you think humans don't get lost in the woods sometimes?” Jaskier keeps going. “It's not neat and not clean and so, so messy, but I found you.”

Is this why you write songs? To find words that can reach into people's chests? It would only take so much to tilt his head down. Will you meet me on the pillow, three inches from here?

“It's almost morning,” Geralt says.

“Right.”

“I want to see the sunrise.” “Of course.” Geralt lets his gaze linger, only for a moment, on the moonlight in Jaskier's eyes. Then he swallows the unbidden words down. There is nothing in this small space between them for him to have, and more importantly, nothing to keep.

They go outside, the sky already turning lighter. Geralt takes a breath in the brisk morning air. He turns to look at a place shaped like a home. A home to kings and queens, princes and princesses, chamber maids and butlers, maybe even a witcher sometimes.

I want to see the sunrise, Geralt thinks, and looks at Jaskier. His face looks beautiful in the faint red light coming from the horizon. The light catches on his hair and there, the sun reflects in his eyes.

“Geralt -” That's when the pain starts.

A face etched into wood -

A hand he didn't take -

A truth never spoken -

Not a monster, but a coward -

Laughter a stomachache in his abdomen -

There is always pain, pain, pain when something is born.

*** Geralt doubles over in front of Jaskier, starts coughing. And Jaskier can't watch it. He falls to his knees and grips Geralt's shoulders, but Geralt is not looking at him anymore.

“No, listen,” Jaskier says quickly, “if this is about love – if you need someone to love you – then – you know, I know you're a witcher and you're not used to emotions, but some of us are human, and I can't really help, but, and you probably haven't considered this, but maybe possibly, perhaps maybe it is so that I – and this might come as a surprise -

“Jaskier,” Geralt chokes out, “get to the point.” “The point is,” Jaskier takes a breath, “here I am. And I know you don't, but... and I know it might not matter, but... I love you.”

Geralt's eyes widen, and yep, bet you didn't see that one coming, witcher.

“Jaskier...” he gets out, but then he starts coughing again. And Jaskier's arms come up to steady him, but it doesn't stop.

And Jaskier's heart burns.

And it doesn't matter.

***

Geralt is gone.

*** The White Wolf is not.

*** “Sweet Melitele,” Jaskier reels back when he sees the wolf. He has white fur and piercing yellow eyes. He seems irritated, turning his head from side to side, walking backwards like he's cornered. Eventually, the wolf's gaze settles on Jaskier and Jaskier stares back at him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier tries. The wolf whines softly, then inclines his head, which Jaskier is going to take as a yes. “Death spell?” Jaskier says exasperatedly. “Fucking hell, Geralt. It was a transformation spell. You've had me all riled up over nothing. Well. Not nothing.”

Jaskier scrutinizes Wolf-Geralt.

“This is why we don't fight the evil witch until after she's given us all the relevant information,” he says sternly.

Geralt makes another noise, maybe a whimper? “You are adorable,” Jaskier says startled and maybe a little delighted. In response, Wolf-Geralt growls at him and bears his teeth. Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you're a dangerous scary beast. Any maiden will faint when she sees you. Hey, now you've finally got fangs!”

Jaskier sits cross-legged in the snow. Geralt steps closer hesitantly. Jaskier sobers up a little.

“So, I guess the spell only resolves at requited love. Sorry. I tried.”

Geralt draws back his ears.

“Yes, it's true. I did fall in love with you. I mean, I tried not to. I did my best.”

Geralt steps a little closer, but it seems like even as an animal he doesn't know how to respond.

“Yeah you're right,” Jaskier says, “I didn't try all that hard. I do love love.”

Geralt looks at him, in that infuriatingly Geralt way of his, which just -

“That is -” Jaskier starts indignantly, “not fair! No puppy-dog-eyes for you as long as you actually look like a puppy!”

The wolf growls a little again.

“Yeah, yeah, you look like a gruesome, threatening big bad wolf,” Jaskier waves him off. “Don't you think it's a little concerning that our conversations are kind of... the same now? I know, I know, for you the perfect conversation is the one that doesn't happen.”

The wolf gets up again and starts pacing in front of Jaskier. If Jaskier were to take a hard guess, he'd say that Geralt would be yelling at him right now in his human form.

“So what do we do now?” Jaskier asks. “I mean, we should go to a mage, probably. Someone who could turn you back. You know anyone?” Geralt stops the pacing, sniffs the air and turns his head.

“Yes? You know someone?” Jaskier says. “I mean, as much as you look lovely – uhhh, terrifying! Frightening! - right now, I do want the old Geralt back. I liked him. My best friend.”

Geralt looks a little displeased, as much as wolves can look displeased.

“Ah! Can't argue!” Jaskier exclaims. “You don't got the vocal cords for it. I'm your very best friend in the whole wide world. Any objections?”

The wolf growls a bit, but doesn't speak a single word of protest.

“Yeah, didn't think so,” Jaskier says flippantly. “We should go straight away. I'm going to tell Fiona and Zofia we're leaving and pack some things. You just – just wait here.” Geralt sits down and stares at him, which Jaskier takes as his cue to leave.

*** The front doors fly open and the girl – Fiona – comes running through. Geralt steps back, still unused to this body, though it comes more naturally to him than he expected. There is something familiar yet foreign in the way a wolf thinks.

Fiona comes to a still in front of him, staring in shock. Jaskier has been running after her and pauses a few feet behind her. Now they're staring at each other – the white-haired girl and the white wolf. But how do wolves say, don't be afraid?

She doesn't have a weapon with her, even though Geralt told her to always keep a weapon close by. Though Geralt wouldn't know what to do if she attacked him. Run, maybe. (There is no way he would ever hurt her.)

Wolves can't smile, can't lift their hands to show they don't carry weapons – wolves are weapons. All teeth, all claws. There must be different tricks, but Geralt doesn't know them yet.

Geralt tries to put it all in his eyes – I won't hurt you, as wolf or as witcher. For a few seconds, they just exchange glances. Then she falls forward and Geralt stumbles back a little, can't find an escape route. He flinches when she throws her arms around him to -

hold him? Geralt is stunned. Is she - hugging him?

He holds still, careful not to move.

“Geralt,” she says close to his ear. He presses his nose against her back.

“How do you know it's him?” Jaskier asks surprised.

“Isn't this how he always looks? White hair, yellow eyes. I see no difference.” Snarky.

She shuffles a little closer.

“Look, I don't know what happened,” she says so quietly that Jaskier won't hear it, “but Jaskier told me you're leaving. I just had to say good-bye.”

He breathes in her scent. He can smell her the same way as always.

“I'm going to tell you everything, on one condition, maybe two. You have to come back. In one piece and ideally as a witcher.”

He nudges her, which is as close to a promise as he can make her.

“So I'll tell you a secret now,” she goes on, “and I trust you'll keep it. My real name is Cirilla. Ciri for short.”

Finally, she lets go of him and steps back.

“So long, witcher,” she says and smiles a little, “try not to get shot by a hunter.”

Then she turns and walks back into the castle.

“We're all set, then,” Jaskier says, “let's go.”

And Geralt starts walking toward the gate – the gate that hasn't let him through so many times. He pauses in front of it. Maybe it still won't let him through – maybe he's cursed to stay here forever. Even now. And he has been here so long, years even. How do you open a gate?

Jaskier steps around him and opens the gate for him, gives him a look.

But how do you cross a threshold? Jaskier was right – this castle is his fort. He's safe there. But that means he needs to leave all the more.

“I'm here,” Jaskier says from the other side of that line. So Geralt follows suit, preparing for the witch's magic to reign him in, but it doesn't.

He is finally outside the castle.

*** Geralt leads him through the woods for hours, growling all the way, which deters any monsters in close proximity. Once they are in a safer part of the woods, Jaskier decides they need need to set up camp. He fiddles with the clasp on his bag for a long while – Geralt huffs at him.

“Excuse me, tone down the judgment, please,” Jaskier says, frustrated. “Come back to me when you have opposable thumbs again, maybe then I'll listen to your criticism.”

Eventually, he manages to spread out his bedroll. Geralt just sits there and stares at him.

“We're going to fix this,” Jaskier assures him. “Don't worry about it.”

Geralt tilts his head in a way that suggests he is clearly worried. Jaskier sighs and sinks down on the bedroll. He's not too worried. Geralt's alive and that's already much better than what he expected yesterday. The rest will work itself out fine.

He tries to sleep, but hears Geralt's footsteps around the clearing. Suddenly, it becomes quiet. Jaskier sits up.

Geralt is between the trees, walking away. Leaving.

“Wait,” Jaskier calls, feeling horribly fragile all out of a sudden. Geralt stops, but Jaskier's heart doesn't stop racing. He gets up and walks a few steps towards the wolf.

“Don't leave,” Jaskier says, “please.”

Geralt seems uncertain.

“I don't know what's going on in that head of yours. I never do. But you're not better off on your own, whatever you believe. I'm sticking with you.”

The wolf just looks at him, like he's considering. Jaskier holds his breath the whole time.

Finally, Geralt steps toward him again.

“Just, just come here,” Jaskier says quietly and lies back down on his bedroll. “Please.”

Jaskier doesn't think he will, but he lays tense all the same. But Geralt does come closer. And he does lay down closely next to Jaskier. His fur tickles Jaskier's nose.

He doesn't know if he's allowed, but he decides he'll take his chances. He puts one arm over Geralt's body.

“Did you know,” Jaskier whispers, “that your fur is really soft?”

Geralt growls, which Jaskier assumes to mean shut up. So he does. This time, he falls asleep easily.

*** The next day, it takes them only a few more hours to reach a village. The villagers, for some strange reason, don't seem to agree that Wolf-Geralt is harmless and cute and needs to be petted – they look at them suspiciously, but they won't come close.

Geralt eventually stops in front of one door and looks at Jaskier expectantly.

“This is it?” Jaskier says. “This is where we find help? Okay, I'm just going to trust you on this.”

He starts knocking. When nothing happens, he knocks a little more vehemently. The door flies open.

“Who wants to lose a hand?”

The woman has black hair and she's wearing a black dress, and what's that in her eyes? Death?

“Geralt, she's terrifying. Are you terrified? I'm terrified. Do you know her? Please tell me we go the wrong door.” But Geralt already trots through the door. The woman has turned to Geralt and she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Geralt?” she says, chiding him, “what did you do this time?”

Geralt gives her a long look.

“Yeah, you're right. We better discuss this inside.”

“Geralt, do you really think this is a good idea? Don't you remember how this all started? With you angering the wrong creepy witch? I feel like falling into the clutches of another evil witch is not the solution to this problem.”

“Where did you pick up the stray dog?” the woman asks, and Jaskier opens his mouth to answer, but then he realizes that she was talking to Geralt. Completely indignant, Jaskier strides into her house and shuts the door behind him.

“Wow, I can not believe -” Jaskier starts, frantically waving his hands around, “I'll have you know if I were a dog, I'd be an incredibly pretty, high-bred -”

“Does he ever shut up?” the woman asks Geralt.

“Uhm, how about you talk to the person who is not a wolf and can actually answer you – and to answer your question, no, I do not-” “Tell me what happened,” the woman says and crouches down to look at Geralt. “So it all started when Cecilia – or was it Catherine? Chloe?”

“Quiet!”

Despite his utter indignity, Jaskier stays quiet. The woman looks Geralt in the eye. Geralt says nothing. He does growl a bit, though.

“Well, if that wasn't a riveting tale -” Jaskier begins sarcastically, but the woman interrupts him again.

“I see,” she says to Geralt.

“What, can you speak wolf? Is that your magic power, you can talk to animals and -” “I can read minds.”

“Can you just once wait for me to finish a sente-”

“No,” the woman says curtly. “Okay, okay, I see how this is gonna be. Wait, you can read minds? Can you also read my mind?” Naturally, Jaskier thinks very intently fuck you.

“If you heard that, I meant it, but also, don't, don't do that – I would like to keep my thoughts to myself -” “Then why don't you?” “I'm sorry, I talk when I'm nervous, my best friend has been turned into a wolf, I'm allowed to be a little nervous.”

“Best friend? Interesting,” she says, still staring at Geralt. “Now shush.”

Jaskier is a bit offended at being shushed, but he also wants to get this over with, so instead of trying further, he starts looking around the place. Little trinkets clutter the shelves, probably potions and other witchery items. Finally, his gaze settles on the witch again, the flowing black hair, the ethereal beauty. How does Geralt know someone like that? Distant cousin? But despite both of them being hauntingly beautiful, they look like polar opposites. One graceful and elegant, one grounded and big. One dark, one light. Maybe they were lovers. And that... yeah, that... Jaskier turns his back on them.

“And you seriously didn't say anything? Men,” the woman says.

Then, “oh don't look at me like that.” Then, “yes, you could have.” Then a deep sigh and, “and now I have to sort out your mess again.”

Jaskier tentatively turns around again. The witch gets up and finally looks at Jaskier.

“So what's the verdict? You seem pretty powerful, you can turn him back, surely?” “I can.”

“Great!” “But only for an hour.” “Oh.” “But it can be permanent,” she continues.

“So hot, so cold,” Jaskier exclaims dramatically, “I do have feelings, you know?”

“I can give you this hour, but you have to break the spell yourself, Geralt. You know how. You know! I won't hear any protests.”

Geralt seems resigned, his ears hanging low.

“Hey, this is good news, right?” Jaskier says to him. “You'll be back on two feet in no time.”

All out of a sudden, fear grips at Jaskier. Maybe Geralt will send him away once he's all witcher again. Jaskier is tolerable as a begrudgingly accepted housemate, maybe even as a friend, but Geralt won't want somebody around who's hopelessly, so hopelessly in love with him. Maybe he'll even think he's doing him a favor by driving him away. And if that's the case, Jaskier will fight him on it, but if not...

Well. He's imposed himself on Geralt enough already.

“Yeah great,” Jaskier says weakly, “wohoo.”

The woman fixes him with her gaze, probably seeing right through him immediately with her magic witch senses, so he lets out a nervous laugh. “I have a room upstairs,” she says, “I'll get you once I'm done.” “Can't I come -” “No distractions.”

And they're off. Which is fine, totally great, Jaskier will just worry a little more. He's good at that.

*** Jaskier stands in front of the closed door to the witch's room. He doesn't know what he's nervous about, really. Going inside, and he'll be face to face with Geralt again – the witch told him Geralt did indeed have a witcher face again and arms and fingers and gorgeous white hair. She told him no parts have gone missing. And Jaskier has seen that a hundred times before – what's there to be afraid of?

He lifts his hand to the door handle, but then lets it sink again. Geralt was with him just an hour ago, why fear his words now that he has words again?

He takes a deep breath, lifts his arm again and then -

Geralt opens the door.

“Geralt!” “Jaskier.”

And that tone of voice is hard to read, always so hard to read. No body language, but your actions betray you.

“You're all witcher again! That's nice. Must have been disorienting, seeing everything from the eye-level of an eight-year-old? How tall are eight-year-olds?”

Geralt's hand shot out and grabbed Jaskier's wrist.

“Yeah, it sure must be nice to have fingers again- woah,” Jaskier says, nearly losing his balance when Geralt drags him into the room.

“So, so – cure! The witch says – by the way, how do you know this witch? I don't know whether to be frightened or impressed that she's the kind of person you go to for help.”

If Jaskier just keeps talking – words, words, words, please don't interrupt me with heartbreak and rejection - “Yennefer. Old friend.” “Lover?” “Yes. Then no.” “Still not a man of many words, I see. That's good actually, because there's something I'd really rather not talk about, let's just pretend I didn't say it, really, please -” “Jaskier -” “Anyways! She said you knew how to stop the curse. And I distinctly remember you telling me you were too busy fighting to hear how, which means – you lied to me. You lied to me.” Geralt listens to him silently, his face all angles again, all hard expressions. It has gotten dark outside and only a candle on the nightstand by the single bed in the room gives off light.

“You're right,” Geralt says quietly, working his jaw, “she did tell me how to stop the curse.” “How?” Jaskier asks. “Tell me.”

“I thought it wouldn't work. I thought there was no way it would. But... I might have been wrong.” “Well, that's good. What do we need to do?”

Geralt is so stiff across from him, the candle illuminating the side of his face. “She said -” He pauses and just breathes for a moment. “She said. If you won't tell your loved ones that you care for them, then you don't need a voice. If you do so well being alone, be alone. Told me to go live in the woods for all she cared. I didn't know what that meant. She wanted me to prove – to prove I'm not a monster.”

And you thought that was impossible, oh darling. Jaskier wants to reach across the space between them, the way he could that night when they were lying in that bed together.

“She wanted me to prove I could still feel things. So you weren't too far off. It was about love. But... it was about. About me, falling in love and... admitting it.”

“So go on then,” Jaskier says, takes a small step forward, daring him. “Admit it.”

But Geralt still looks like he's in pain.

“Do you love Fiona like a daughter, or Zofia, or...”

But Geralt is still not looking at him.

“You know Yennefer will be extremely mad if she did all that magic only for you to turn into a wolf again because you're so emotionally constipated,” Jaskier says light-heartedly.

He thinks for a moment, Geralt won't say it, only knows how to cross his arms and not how to open them.

***

Jaskier's wide eyes are on him. He can see his yellow eyes, his white hair, his looming, frightening – everything. Don't look at me. You can look at me, but not in this light. Not from this angle. Look into my eyes when night has turned them grey. Look at my human-shaped silhouette. Indulge me in darkness' gentle lie. Geralt can't stand the feeling of the candlelight on his face, so he steps back a bit, into the shadows again.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again, as if Jaskier's name could draw him in, could draw him closer. “I thought you'd be gone. I thought you'd get fed up soon enough. I didn't expect...” Jaskier smiles at him, but it looks a little distorted.

“Do you even know why I stayed,” he says.

Geralt really doesn't.

“Because of the magic dinner table?” “No, you idiot.”

Jaskier steps closer again, and this time Geralt doesn't flee.

“I've already laid my heart bare.” Jaskier exhales slowly. “Don't you want to return the favor?”

My heart for your heart.

“I didn't care about these yellow buttercups for so long. I didn't care what would happen when they died. It didn't matter. But then... you. You came along and... made it matter.” Each word is hard to say, but Geralt has to. You made me believe flowers can bloom in winter. In snow, in ice.

“It was dark in her castle before you came along. Quiet. Lonely. And I've always craved -”

Jaskier steps even closer. Geralt pushes the words out one by one.

“And I really think I might – I must – I love -”

your voice your light your eyes

“you.” you you you

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Didn't – didn't expect that.” He comes closer still and finds Geralt's hand.

“But I'm not complaining,” Jaskier adds quickly, “the opposite, in fact.”

His hand is warm and Geralt searches for his other one, too.

“You know,” Jaskier says, talking faster, “I've never been in love. I mean, I almost was a million times or I could have been if – I would have, if I – it was just an if-love. But now I know what a when-love feels like – when – when you look at me, like that – or it's a yes-love, a yes-please-love, a please-shut-me-up-right-now-love -”

Geralt surges forward and kisses him, suddenly less tense and more desperate. He knows, now, the curse must be broken.

You can look at me, but only with your hands, not with your eyes.

Jaskier's hands roam over him.

Look at me with the arches of your fingertips.

He's not trapped anymore. He's free, so free, like a bird – like two birds, singing the same song.

I will let you look at me with your lips.

And Jaskier does, presses soft kisses to Geralt's cheekbones, his forehead, his eyelashes. Geralt can't get enough of it, of his scent so close, of the warmth he radiates. Geralt's skin is so hard, like stone, but it gives way where Jaskier touches it. He can make an indent in the crook of Geralt's neck. Leave fingerprints all over him. (Geralt doesn't know how long it will take until he turns to stone again.) Geralt takes Jaskier's face into his hand and wants to keep it, keep this. Maybe he can.

From the depths of his mind somewhere, he can hear the rumors, the insults, the whispers – the monster in the woods, in the enchanted castle, with horns and fangs and violence in his beastly eyes. But here is Jaskier, with his brave stupidity and his gentle hands and his light voice and his hand finds Geralt's chest and the ache fades from where his palm touches him.

Jaskier grabs his arms, turns the both of them into the candlelight and

– sees him.

#geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #geralt x jaskier

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

Cabin Fever

(in which I write a quarantine fic that I actually manage to set in the canon universe)

AO3 link

Day 1

The journey was only supposed to last three weeks.

There were business deals that needed their word in Dragonstone. Far too many of them for Gendry’s liking, but the deadline on them coincided with a wedding for one of Davos’s sons, so the trip could at least kill two birds with one stone.

And so, him and Arya had packed, checked with the twins (who, at ten years old, were actually ecstatic that they trusted them to be left home alone, ignoring of course that the whole staff had been tasked with keeping them busy and safe, and that the actual business of Storm’s End was being handled by the Castellan), booked passage on a merchant’s ship, and set off for Dragonstone.

The voyage there had been smooth, as had the work once they got there. Both of them were ecstatic to see Davos and Marya again, and the deals went smoothly, and it seemed like no time at all before they were on the ship back.

As befitting a lord and lady, their cabin was nicer than pretty much any of the others onboard. There was a bed wider than a bunk, a nightstand big enough for a basin and candle, a desk with two chairs, and even a window that could be opened.

Arya was lounged out on the bed, and Gendry at the desk the morning the knock came on the door.

Arya glanced up when Gendry got up to answer. They were set to reach Weeping Town later today, but they’ve made great time, maybe they’ve got there already.

“Milord,” she hears from the door. She’s even more confused to see the sailor standing as far back as he could.

“Is there a problem?”

“We’ve reached port early... but it appears several of the men below deck have come down with purple-spotted fever-”

Arya sees Gendry wince. She doesn’t have to ask- neither of them had had purple spotted fever as a child, but he’d told her the story of the year it had spread like wildfire through the orphanage, leaving scars upon the afflicted and rendering about half of them blind or deaf.

“What’s there to be done?” he asks the sailor.

“Standard procedure is to quarantine the ship for two weeks,” Arya feels her breath leave her chest, “No one comes in or out until we find out if anyone else is sick.”

After a moment, Gendry nods.

“Food will be brought in the morning. Please wait until the person who brings it has left to retrieve it. Rain buckets for bathing will also be brought- please empty them as well as your chamber pots out the window. I will come again when the ship has been cleared.”

Gendry closes the door behind him, and glances over his shoulder to where his wife is laying on the bed. She groans.

“Two more weeks…”

Gendry sighs.

“I do have a bunch of proposals I need to write out. And I need to send a letter to the woman running the orphanage we started up in Weeping Town.”

Arya nods.

“I have a ton of letters to keep up with too. I guess we should be able to spend these two weeks working.”

She nods again, and reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of papers she’d brought with them.

After he finishes the first paragraph of the letter he plans to send back to Storm’s End, Gendry feels Arya’s eyes watching him.

“What?”

“Aren’t you hot? You can take off your jerkin in here, it’s just us.”

As it was spring now, the Stormlands could get quite hot, even through the frequent rains. He supposes she’s right, so he unties and shrugs off his leather jerkin, leaving him in just his linen undershirt.

Sometime later, when he’s finishing up the letter and looking it over, he hears a noise and tilts his head.

Arya has the top tie of her breeches unlaced, he can just see a tiny flash of peachy skin, covered in soft hair, and her fingers disappearing underneath the fabric.

He raises an eyebrow.

Arya sits up a bit on one elbow, but her fingers do not still.

“It occurs to me,” she starts, “That there is no castle staff here. We’re not supposed to be anywhere in five minutes. We have no responsibilities that must be completed today. Our daughters are not going to unexpectedly barge in. We have, in fact, been ordered not to leave our bedroom for two whole weeks.”

Gendry breathes in, then out, and places his quill on the desk. He stands with deliberation.

Slowly, he says, “Take off your pants.”

That first day, she rides him no less than a half dozen times. When his cock demands rest, she rides his fingers instead. And once their muscles have begun to slacken, he lays lazily on one side and licks her cunt raw.

Gasping, and dripping in sweat, he barely manages to roll over and kiss Arya on the head.

“Now that we’ve exhausted ourselves,” he starts, “ I really should work on those proposals tomorrow.”

He wakes up the next morning with his cock in her mouth

Day 2:

Arya’s bent over one of the rain buckets they’d been brought that morning.

“Are you seriously doing laundry?”

Arya smirks at him.

“If I don’t, these sheets will smell worse than we ever could, and I’m not looking the gift horse of this nice, big, latching window in the mouth.”

She wrings it out best she can, and throws it over the open window, using the edge to hold it in place. Might as well take advantage of the brief lack of rain.

“And you laughed at me for packing soap.”

Day 3

“What proposal are you working on now anyway?”

Gendry raises his gaze from the paper to the bed where Arya’s finishing the soup that had been brought for supper.

“I’m sending out notice to several tradesmen in the area, to see if they’re willing to take in apprentices from the orphanage. They wouldn’t be required to house or feed them, since they would go back there at night, so I’m hoping that I can convince them not to charge for the training.”

Arya is thoughtful.

“We would have to vet them pretty harshly, and make sure the women at the orphanage know how to question the children when they return. Don’t want anyone just using them for free labor, or worse.”

They both nod, thinking of the horrific story they’d been told of the ship builder who’d taken Daron in as an apprentice after his parents died.

Gendry nods.

“I know. But it makes me so mad to see these big masses of children with no futures.”

Arya agrees.

“Sansa’s been trying some things up north, seeing if there are any farm families willing to take in orphans. She fears much the same as we do. There are too many orphans, but there are too many things that need doing to.”

It does seem, that there are an endless number of things that need doing when your livelihood is looking after an entire land's people.

Day 4

“Arya are you...using that paper just to draw cocks?”

Arya makes a face.

“No- I was making a list of all the places back in Storm’s End where we’d fucked, but I think I actually ran out.”

He reaches over the desk and grabs her paper.

“Library, stables, cave, godswood…”

He keeps going. And going. Lot of fun memories in this list.

“I actually think you got them all.”

Her cocks are actually pretty good too, all thick and veiny with huge balls.

“Can you draw me some tits too?”

Arya huffs when she takes the paper back.

When she’s working on it, his mind is piqued, wondering what she’s coming up with.

But when she slides it back across the table with a smirk, he is pleased. She’s no artist, but the crude drawing of herself (he assumes, and he won’t imagine anyone else), nude, tits heaving and knees spread wide with her fingers buried inside herself is perfectly adequate.

“Hmm,” he says, unlacing himself, and taking his cock in hand. He doesn’t usually get roused so quickly, but something about this quarantine is making him feel young and carefree. “Might need some alone time with this.”

“Oh come,” Arya groans, trying to reach over and grab it.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” he says, jumping up and out of her reach. He’s already pretty damn hard, and the picture is actually strangely arousing. His cock is at full mast now, and he tugs on it with fierce determination, moaning obnoxiously.

Eventually, she manages to yank the paper away, but it’s too late, Gendry’s stretched himself out on the bed, tugging rapidly at his cock, letting every nasty fantasy run through his head in her rough stick figures, and well before she can celebrate, he comes across his belly.

She gets her revenge later that night, retrieving the sculpted cock she’d obtained in a port in Essos during her years at sea. It was made of some sort of glass, solid and heavy, and shaped by a hand that obviously knew what it was going to end up being used for. Extremely easy to keep clean she’d said too. She’d shown it to him plenty before, often even letting him use it on her himself, though she insisted that it paled compared to the real thing.

“Why’d you even bring that?” he asks over his supper as she peels off her breeches, kneels over the cock and buries it deep in herself, bouncing up and down on it and moaning, deliberately meeting his eye.

“I thought you might be busy when we were in Dragonstone and I would get lonely.”

And he somehow manages to finish his supper in due time, despite the sounds of her pleasure and the squelch of it sliding in and out of herself echoing through the cabin.

Day 5

“Seven hells, what day is it?”

“I have no idea,”

Day 6

“How do you think Lyra and Lysa are coping without us?”

Arya sighs and sets down her letter.

“It probably sounds strange, but I don’t think they’ll even miss us at all. They’ve both gotten so independent lately.”

Neither of them have to say that they’d both missed the twins every single day since they’d been gone.

After a long silence, Gendry admits.

“Lyra told me before we left she wants to be a knight.”

Arya chuckles. She’s so pleased that her daughter is growing up where it might even be a possibility.

“In two years, if she hasn’t changed her mind, we can write to Brienne, see if her or Podrick could use a squire.”

They know it’s only a slim possibility that their child will still be on the same dream in two years time.

Gendry sighs.

“I suppose that would give us the answer for which one to name as heir.”

Arya frowns.

“It would, but it doesn’t mean Lysa would be ready for it. I don’t know why she’s so convinced that we would automatically pick Lyra. She hasn’t had a tantrum in years, and Maester Elric says they’re both good students.”

Gendry shrugs, and scoots back over to the bed so he can kiss her head.

“I don’t know. You’re still convinced you’re not beautiful, even though no one’s called you horseface in years.”

That makes her smile.

Day 7

Gendry comes all over his hand almost as soon as he gets his breeches undone.

Arya wrinkles her nose.

“Seriously?”

“Hey I told you not to tease me so much.”

She had too, been teasing him all morning. Pouring water over her linen shirt and leaving it half buttoned up. Idly mentioning that she hadn’t bothered putting on smallclothes. Leaning over the desk so her tits were right in his face.

She sighs. Then gets a glint in her eye.

“How many times do you think you can get me off before you can go again.”

The glint is now mirrored in Gendry’s eye.

“Is that a challenge?”

She comes underneath his fingers, one.

Then under his tongue, two.

His tongue on her nub, stuffed with three fingers, three.

Three fingers, he curls and presses them up while sucking her nub. Four

She’s twisted onto her stomach now, and he gets four fingers in. Five

She’s stuffed full and grinding back against his hand, panting and swearing. He’s using both hands now, one in her cunt, one on her nub. Six, then seven.

She’s sweating and bleary eyed now, so Gendry pushes her back onto her back, and soothes her swollen, quivering flesh with his tongue. Eight, slowly, gently.

He only idly notices when his cock actually is hard again. This whole challenge thing is too much fun.

“Eight,” he announces, proudly.

Breathing heavily, Arya looks over her knees to his erection, big and purple and bouncing proudly.

“Well, come here and get on it.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You want to keep going? Don’t you want to take a rest.”

Arya huffs, sits up and pushes him on his back, straddling him.

“Never.”

She can’t walk right for the rest of the day, but even as she reclines with a cloth soaked in cold rainwater on her groin, insists that it was completely worth it.

Day 8

Arya is stymied.

“I don’t know how to respond to this letter Sansa sent me.”

Gendry looks up,

“What’s her trouble?”

“She’s thinking of getting married again and wants to know how she can find a husband who’s actually only interested in men.”

Gendry’s rendered speechless.

“She...wants a husband who doesn’t want her?”

Arya smiles grimly.

“That’s about it. She was hurt so badly by Ramsey, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever want to be with a man physically again. But the other northerners are pressuring her to marry and because there must always be a Stark in Winterfell…”

Gendry frowns in thought.

“I would say ask Daron and Tim for advice, but I don’t know if either of them can read.”

Arya sighs again, and picks up her quill.

Day 9

“Is it raining again?”

“Did it ever stop?”

Day 10

“Bella’s doing well, she says.”

Gendry raises his gaze. A year or two ago, with King Bran’s assistance, Gendry had been reaching out to and meeting his few remaining half siblings. Mya and Bella had both come to Storm’s End for a time, though both had chosen to move on now, they had both learned to read and write enough to keep in touch.

“Did she say how she’s liking Mistwood?”

Arya nods.

“Says it’s much nicer than where she was in the Riverlands, and the woman who’s training her is teaching her a ton. She especially likes that no one there knows what she used to do for a living.”

That had been the day Arya felt most like a proper lady. The day she had managed to subtly ask if Bella really in fact liked her line of work, or if she’d rather be spending her life doing something else. Her words still rung in her head.

‘It’s easy work to like when you’re young and want the acknowledgement that you’re pretty, but it really grinds on once you start to get older.’

And the old midwife in Mistwood had been happy enough to have a student.

Gendry grunts.

“Good, so she can stay there being all judgemental.”

“You’re still mad that she said we sounded boring?”

“All because we said we’d never invite a third person into our bed!”

“You’re too sensitive...beside, she wouldn’t understand that we’d still have to go about our lives and look that third person in the eye and talk to them afterwards, that would be weird…”

Night 10/Day 11

Gendry wakes after dozing off by his wife whispering in his ear. Opening his eyes, he sees that she’s lit the candle on the bedside, and is standing beside him in her shift.

She moves to the desk, and pulls out the chair, before kneeling upon it. She leans forward onto the desk and lifts her shift over her hips, baring her arse and cunt to him. She looks back over her shoulder.

“Quick,” she whispers, “Before my husband gets back.”

Gendry stands, and slips into character as he sheds his sleep pants.

He runs his fingers over her cunt, which is dripping wet already (what on earth had she been up to before he woke?). He bends forward and mutters in her ear,

“What would your husband think if he saw you down here wiggling your arse for a bastard like me?”

He takes himself in hand and plunges into her roughly from behind.

Arya leans forward and presses her cheek against the wood of her desk as her breathing becomes rougher.

“He can’t make me feel like you do.”

Gendry grips her hips tightly and keeps thrusting faster and harder, making her moan.

“Bad little girl,” he says, “Leaving your lord husband to come and fuck a lowborn bastard. Someone should punish you for that.”

He can’t see Arya’s face, but he can practically see her eyes begin to twinkle.

“I have been bad. Maybe you should give me a spanking.”

He runs his hand along her smooth skin, considering, before raising it.

His hand lands across her bum with a ‘crack’.

“I’m not sure that quite got the message across.”

He slaps her bum twice more, each time earning a grunt and a rush of wetness around his cock.

He leans forward to whisper to her again.

“Let go then, come for me like he could never make you.”

He spanks her once, twice, three more times. Then he puts his hands on both her shoulders and pushes her to the desk so he can get better leverage. He fucks her like she’s a bit of metal on his anvil- hard and deep, but with skill and finesse. Arya’s moans rise almost to a scream and he feels her fluttering around his cock, not only once but twice, and he’s just about to-

She reaches back and grabs one wrist.

“I can’t have a bastard,” she cries out, still in character, “Come here, I’ll suck you off.”

She slides off the desk to the floor and kneels at his feet, looking up at him through her lashes in a way Arya never once has, before taking him in her hot little mouth. She sucks him with her sweet lips, moaning as she tastes herself on his cock. Gendry’s hands find the back of her head, winding his fingers in her hair, and thrusting against her face, moaning loudly, letting her know just how close he is.

When he comes with a yell, she swallows him down, his seed spilling out over her lips, which she licks. She stands, and kisses him, letting him taste the both of them together.

Later that night, back in bed, Gendry mutters.

“We’re going to have to come up with some better scenarios, I’m starting to feel bad for these made up men you’re cheating on.”

Arya snorts.

“Well we don’t have enough room in here to play wildlings.”

“I still don’t know why you had me run me ragged for that.”

Arya props herself up on one elbow to glare at him.

“If you think a wildling would just let you pick her up and have your way with her, you’ve got another thing coming.”

She’s pensive for a moment.

“We should come with something new though.”

“We could be knight and squire again.”

“That was a good one...I want to be the knight this time though.”

“Alright.”

“Also, keep thinking. We don’t have rope, so we can’t do pirate captives.”

“You fell asleep last time we did that.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault that you make me so comfortable when you tie me up. Besides, who said I was going to be the captive?”

She’s having him on. Seeing him tied up still sort of makes her want to cry, all these years later, instead of making her hot. She suspects admitting that was actually what made Bella call them boring. She segues back into her point.

“I want to be able to spank you next time.”

Gendry laughs.

“You can just ask, I’ll let you do it, we don’t have to come up with a story.”

Arya opens one eye, looking at him. She remembers once having confided in him that it wasn’t even the whole “idea of being punished” that got her off, it was just that she thought being slapped on the bum felt good.

“You don’t mind?”

“Arya, I trust you. I let you put my balls in your mouth, You can slap my arse all you want.”

Which is how Gendry ends up on his hands and knees the next morning, his breeches pulled halfway down his thighs and Arya’s hand leaving red marks on his arse, again and again.

“Would you like another?”

Gendry nods, before Arya’s hand lands again.

His cock is hard and leaking, begging for a single touch.

Arya was right though, he thought, it did feel pretty good.

Day 12

The sun shines on day 12, and Gendry wakes up with a tickle.

“Shh,” Arya tells him, “Don’t move.”

Gendry blinks, realizing he’s on his stomach and she’s running something along his arse cheeks.

“Is that that ink you got from that Essosian trader last year?”

Arya nods in assent. The man had espoused the plant based ink as being much cheaper and easier to obtain, but when she attempted to write on paper with it, it became clumpy and thick very quickly.

Then she remembered seeing men in Braavos with dark marks, words and pictures, drawn onto their skin, and it hit her what the ink was likely mostly used for.

“What are you drawing?”

She snickers, having drawn two smiling faces on each side of his arse. The sheet had slipped down past it overnight, and with the sun shining through, it made far too perfect a canvas to resist.

“Nothing really.”

Several more minutes pass with her idly doodling when he asks.

“Does it dry fast?”

“Pretty much as soon as it’s spread.”

Another moment.

“Can I try?”

She blows on his skin and rubs at it to make sure it’s all set, before handing him the bottle and rolling onto her side of the bed.

“I want to do your front though, so you can see.”

On her back, she watches as Gendry’s deft hand with the brush turns her nipples into the centers of sunbursts, and trees, vines and flowers emerge from the nest between her legs.

“You’re pretty good at this you know.”

Gendry smiles bashfully.

“Well, you have to be able to draw if you want to get someone’s design exactly as they want it, it was a skill I sort of had to develop and then never really thought about.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

“Ever think of doing it properly, on paper or a canvas?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know. There’s so much else I have to do, and I doubt the other lords who still look at me like I’m pretending would be at all impressed by some nice pictures I drew.”

Arya frowns.

“It would hardly be the most eccentric hobby I’ve heard of a highborn having...and besides, if it makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

Gendry chuckles as he recaps the bottle of ink. He scoots up, takes Arya’s face in his hands and kisses her warmly.

“Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs against her lips, “But I still think you’re my favorite canvas.”

She murmurs softly back her agreement.

“Hey, this stuff washes off in water right?”

“Yes”

“...so if we get too sweaty, we’ll just smear it all on the sheets.”

“Hmm,” Arya mutters when he kisses her jaw, “I need to wash them again anyway.”

Day 13

Arya’s studying him from her spot on the pillow. It’s raining outside again, and the cool air filters through the cracked window into the cabin.

“Something on your mind?”

Arya flops onto her back and stares at the pattern of beams on the ceiling, for the millionth time these past two weeks.

“I want another baby,” she blurts out.

Gendry rolls on his side to look at her.

“I thought we decided to leave that up to the gods?”

Arya laughs.

“It seems we are, I ran out of the ingredients for moon tea three days ago,”

Something in Gendry’s mind clicks and he nods in recognition.

He leans in and kisses her chin.

“I’d happily raise a whole village of babes with you, but what makes you think this now?”

Arya frowns, almost to a pout.

“I just keep thinking of the twins back home, completely fine without us. They're our daughters, we love them, but they’re past the point where they depend completely on us. And I guess...I miss when they were tiny and needed me.”

“They’ll always need us,” Gendry assures her, hands on her shoulders. “But maybe this timing is a blessing. We’ve had more time together these past two weeks than I think we managed in the last six moons.”

Arya murmurs in agreement.

Gendry grins, mischievously.

“And we’ve got a whole ‘nother day left”.

His expression drags a smile back onto Arya’s face, and she reaches to pull her shift over her head.

Later, he presses his lips to the back of her neck, wrapping his arms around her middle and snuggling up against her back.

“I’m not tired, if you’re not.”

Arya laughs, shifting her leg and letting him slide into her again.

“If I had known talking about babes would get you going this much, I’d have thrown away my moon tea weeks ago.”

Day 14

“Everything’s all packed up?”

“Yup.”

They sit together on the edge of the bed.

“Any time now.”

It feels like forever before the sailor comes and knocks to tell them the ship has been cleared and they are not free to leave.

It feels like forever, but it’s barely past breakfast.

They’re off board as fast as their feet can carry them. Arya steps off to find one of the sailors about sending their bags ahead to Storm’s End.

Gendry stops to thank the captain while Arya fidgets in the background.

The captain eyes her.

“She your wife? I’m surprised you two are even in the same room after these two weeks, the men below deck have been at each other’s throats since day one. “

Gendry smiles.

“No, I think we got on fine.”

They step out on solid land, and Arya takes his arm as they walk towards where they can borrow a pair of horses to return.

“I love you to death,” she whispers against his arm, “But I cannot wait to talk to people who aren’t you.”

He smiles, and throws an arm around her.

“Soon we’ll be home, our daughters will run to us,” he muses.

"We'll have fresh food for supper, be able to use the privy without anyone watching, have someone else to do our laundry," Arya sing-songs in response.

“Our castellan will share with us everything that has no doubt caught on fire since we left. There will be a pile of ravens as thick as my hand to dig through, people will come to us with problems every hour of every day, we’ll be expected to actually get dressed properly every morning…”

He feels her still.

“Do you think the captain will let us back onboard?”

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #quarantine fic #this is the horniest damn thing I have ever written #fic

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jackstoney · 5 years

Photo

My relationship with the “abusive wife”

Maaaaan this is gonna be a loong explanation, but with the recent shit that has been going down between her and her current husband, I feel like I have to speak up, just to give further context that this woman IS indeed very manipulative, if not straight up abusive… I can personally attest to it.

Now, I don’t wanna breach her privacy too much, because I feel like all people deserve at least some privacy, and i’m not sure if she’s ever said her real name on here, so I’m gonna refer to her as Mel for the remainder of this post.

I had been friends with Mel for over 3 years before we started dating. I met her when she was 14, and I was 16… for those 3 years we never really did much other than talk to each other and draw each other art, but we were still very close, and I never felt as if she was an abusive person whatsoever because she never really exhibited that type of behavior… all I knew is that she was VERY childish, but again, that didn’t really bother me.

March of 2017, I ask her to be my girlfriend… It didn’t happen right away because her mother wasn’t to sure of me, considering the fact that we were merely online friends (and she was also 17 at the time, only a month away from being 18) But eventually, we ended up as a couple on Saint Patricks Day.

A couple months pass, we’re staying up really late talking to each other pretty much every night, sending each other things in the mail, just doing regular shit that couples would do in long distance relationships.

In May 2017, her mother buys me a plane ticket to Ohio so that I could visit her for 2 weeks for her high school graduation, it was pretty much her “graduation present.” I ended up flying from California to Ohio all by myself to meet this girl who I thought I was in love with, but this is where things start to go downhill….

Mel was a very, and I mean VEEEERY clingy person. She barely ever left my side, barely ever let go of me in general, constantly wanted to kiss me, said “I love you” every 15 minutes… In the beginning this didn’t really bother me, but after 2 straight weeks of this constant behavior it became VERY exhausting.

Along with the clinginess, came her childishness. She was VEEEERY childish, despite the fact that she was 18 at this point, not 14. She had a stuffed dog named Andrew that she legitimately pretended was one of her best friends and constantly carried around as some sort of comfort, which kinda weirded me out because I would think that an 18 year old DOESN’T need to carry around a stuffed animal with them at all times. There was also the time when me and her went to Build a Bear workshop together and I made her a Rocket Raccoon plush, which I jokingly started calling “our son” because we made him together. Well, she got REEEALLY into that and pretty much turned it into a serious thing… that was when I started to feel legitimately uncomfortable.

I remember, for like the entire last week of our visit together, every single night in our hotel room i’d have to just lay in bed and comfort her because she would constantly cry about the fact that I was going home in “Just 1 week” or “Just 4 days” and so on. She had a hard time living in the moment and focusing on the fact that I was still there in that moment, and instead focused on the fact that I was leaving soon. Even though I loved her at that point, and wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the fact that this was a CONSTANT THING for an entire week… Just laying in bed, listening to her cry, clinging to me and not letting go for hours… it was just an uncomfortable experience.

About 2 nights before I had to leave, I had a panic attack in our room due to some personal issues, and i’m prone to anxiety so those tend to happen. Melissa wanted to hold me and constantly say things to me, but when i’m anxious those types of things do not help me AT ALL. I had to tell her multiple times in a shaky voice “Mel, when i’m feeling this way, the best thing to do is leave me alone and let me get through it”. Well… Mel didn’t like that very much. She began to breathe heavily, seemingly out of nowhere, and she said “I’m sorry Jack, I don’t know if this is gonna work out… I don’t think this can work” Then suddenly curled up into a ball and started profusely hyperventilating… I don’t like to sit here and claim this because i’m still not sure, but I feel like she was faking a panic attack to manipulate me… the whole thing seemed very forced. It was as if she had a fake panic attack just to turn everything around and make me comfort her… I kinda just had to force myself out of my panic attack (which didn’t entirely happen, I was still panicking) and tell her to breathe deeply, which somehow got her panic attack to end almost immediately… it was very fishy.

The day finally comes where I have to leave, of course she cried her eyes out in the airport, I get on the plane, make it back to california, yada yada.

But then… once I get home, she decides to send me this VERY long paragraph about how mad she was at me because she pretty much thought I was talking shit about her behind her back because I wouldn’t let her look at my phone. The reason I wouldn’t let her look is because, instead of asking, she would randomly try to peek at what I was doing and I would turn my phone away from her because I wanted her to respect my privacy. I ALWAYS respected hers. This caused me to stop talking to her altogether for a while.

When I got back to california, I was dealing with alot of life problems. I was constantly looking for a job to pay rent, and I ended up being very depressed for almost a month after the trip ended because I felt like life was going downhill… and I also found myself kind of ignoring melissa because she wasn’t making me happy at that point, and because of the whole privacy thing. I was only able to associate her with clinginess and annoyance because of what I had experienced in her presence. So, with that, on July 9, 2017, I broke up with Mel. but I had to send her voice messages to do it because I KNEW that if I did it over a call, she would freak out, hurl insults at me, and use her signature line “You knew what this was going to do to me, and you did it anyways!” basically manipulating me into feeling like the bad guy because I was having life problems and couldn’t even take care of myself enough to constantly babysit her anymore.

2 months pass, I end up missing her alot, and I message her again. I pretty much give in and act like the bad guy in the situation to get her to forgive me.. I literally cried my eyes out to her over the phone she was eating that shit up, hurling more insults at me as I cried to her over the phone how sorry I was. She told me that, after we broke up, I caused her to do the following things: -Use my Old Spice shampoo that I left in Ohio because it reminded her of me, but it ended up destroying her hair

-Burnt popcorn in the microwave and ended up calling the fire department because she was scared

-Acted like a zombie and started incorporating traits of my personality into her own, pretty much turning into a “Mini Jack” because she missed me

Just… so much bullshit. She’s the worst at coping with things and actively does things to make the coping process worse for herself, yet she’ll just blame it on the other person.

Eventually, things settle down, we become friends again, but… Dillon is back in her life, and she was thinking about dating him again. Yes, Dillon is her current husband which went missing recently.

Throughout the next month, she went back and forth between dating me and Dillon because she was indecisive… and eventually, I grew so tired of it that I decided to just break everything off entirely and tell her that i’m done dating her for good. That apparently sent her into multiple panic attacks and caused her to go to the hospital (or so she told me… most likely a manipulation tactic) and again just resulted to hurling insults as me… and so, that ended my association with Mel. I broke everything off with her entirely, didn’t even wanna be friends with her anymore. I was done.

Literally only a month after I stopped talking to her, she got engaged to Dillon. I had no idea that they had even gotten married yet, and I had no idea that their marriage was even going this bad… last time I heard, they were doing just fine together… Dillon was apparently the love of her life, and even Dillon was happy with everything.

Now, Dillon was never personally nice to me, so I was never that fond of him, but now realizing that Melissa has been possibly even WORSE to him than she was to me, causing him to want to run away without saying a word…. I feel his pain. Honestly I hope he’s able to escape the marriage somehow unscathed, because knowing Mel… she’ll probably do everything in her power to fuck up his life. She’s very petty in that sense.

Anyways, long story short, Mel is not a good person to be in any type of serious relationship with. I hope I was able to convey everything properly, and there are some things I left out of this because I don’t wanna completely destroy Mel’s reputation, despite her being an abusive person, and for the privacy of others as well. There is really so much I could say about her to completely destroy her. But just be aware, she’s not a good person. She has major problems… Actually, major is an understatement.

#hufflepuff-rave #abusive #manipulative

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

Infinity: chapter 3- A way out.

Time to start the “where did this character end up?” game.

---

To Allison Pendle, immortality has been a blessing, but also a curse. In the past century since her transformation, she’d seen the downfall of Joey Drew Studios, joined a gang in which she worked under Lacie Benton and Shawn Flynn, gone through rehab, seen a multitude a countries, been a singer, an actress, a missionary, a mother, and a drug dealer, rubbed shoulders with Wally as a performing circus freak, gone to rehab, been rich, been homeless, tried almost every hobby imaginable, read more books, met more people, done more drugs, and had generally lived life to the fullest. The past little bit, though, she was bored with it. She’d begun to envy older people, who were able to slow down with age, and eventually die. And so, she eventually returned to Brightdale.

Brightdale as Allison remembered it, was a small and mostly unnotable little town, but it was a very significant place to Allison. It was where, in her time randomly traveling the country in her early twenties, she’d first discovered that witchcraft was real.

In present, the place had been deserted entirely. As Allison walked the empty streets lined with overgrowth, a delightfully haunted feeling came over her. She’d have to explore these dusty houses when she was finished with her mission. It was on the edge of town that she found the house of the witch she had stayed with and stolen from. Its windows and doors were thoroughly grown over with vines roots at this point. Thankfully, Allison had half-way expected the place would be patroled by some sort of guardian creature and had thus come prepared with a shotgun and a machete. There was nothing special about the foliage and it gave way fairly easily, allowing Allison in.

Within it, Allison found the place nearly untouched- nicely lit, no dust, nothing. Was the witch still here? Allison raised her gun and listened as creaking wooden steps gave away the old woman's presence. "I have a reversal shield on me. Don't try anything," Allison asserted. It was a lie, but not one to be taken lightly- casting a spell, especially an offensive one, on a reversal shield could very easily prove deadly.

"Allison?" the witch growled. "Very well, you fucking thief. What do want from me?"

"Ingredient number 30."

The old woman went to her spice cabinet, took out the ingredient, and threw it at Allison. "Anything else?"

"Well, there is something I'd like to ask you. You don't actually look like that, do you?"

The witch smiled wryly. "No... I actually look quite a bit like you. But you see, if I looked like you, then boys would be following me home all the time, getting to learn my secrets because they're after the one between my legs. It's protective to look like this."

Allison nodded. "That's what I thought. So," she pulled a recipe of sorts out of her pocket, "do you think this could kill you?"

The witch stared on in fear.

"Not that I want to kill you. I just think we should have the option."

---

It was the middle of the day when Henry received that very important letter (not the first Very Important Letter he'd received from someone in that bygone studio!). He had been in his office at the official headquarters of Disney, and the letter had been brought to him by his wife, Elaine. It read:

Dear Henry Stein,

This is one of the immortals. I have found a potion that can cure our immortality. If you'd like it, or just like to see the rest of us again, me in Brightdale, Ohio at seven at night exactly one week from today.

See you soon (oops, that sounds ominous),

-Allison Pendle

"What is it, honey?" Elaine asked. Elaine knew that Henry was immortal, along with with pretty much everything else about him. They'd been married for fifteen years now, from her late twenties to her early forties, and had fostered many children together. Henry loved her, and certainly didn't think of her as some mayfly pet. But he wouldn't have wanted to talk about this with anyone.

"Nothing," Henry responded, perfectly calm.

"Okay," Elaine said, leaving with a look on her face that suggested that she suspected things maybe weren't.

Henry immediately tossed the letter in the trash and attempted to focus on the paperwork on his desk- fourums on the theme park he was planning on building with the help of Bertrum Piedmont. Finding he couldn't, Henry turned over the sheet and turned to his oldest coping mechanism- drawing. He was good now- all that time loop stuff was forgotten. But he was never in a million, billion, trillion years going to risk seeing Joey Drew's face again. Infinity didn't scare him much nowadays, and it scared him infinitely less than that.

---

The next house that the letter found its way to was a big, but run-down. Not many knew it, but it was where a pair of extremely well-established drug lords operated. As of right now, there were several people passed out on the crack-dusted leather couches, one of them being Lacie Benton, who was hungover from having used more substances than she could name the night before. "Hey Lacie. Letter from your old lover is here," Shawn called.

"Which one?" Lacie returned.

"The Raven."

Lacie rolled her eyes. "It was one kiss. She wanted to try it. Are you going to tease me about that until the very ends of time?"

"Probably," Shawn replied, gathering up some crack from the end table and snorting it. He couldn't wait until their next shipment would arrive, later in the afternoon.

Groggy, she got up and took the letter from Shawn's hands.

"Oh my God."

"What? Is she coming back to us?"

"No, it's better than that. She wants to give us a suicide drug!"

Shawn shared her excitement. At this point, they were both due for life-sentences, and for them, that would mean jail for centuries or millennia. Not anymore. Not with these. They were going to that meeting.

---

"So, Samuel Lawrence, explain to us why we should allow you, a man currently on parole and with many, many felonies in your past however distant, become a priest."

Sammy took a deep breath. In a similar courtroom to the one he now stood in, he'd answered the same question five years ago when he'd argued why he should be allowed in a seminary. now he had to argue it again in order to be licensed. At very least, the church where he'd done his practicum had agreed to hire him if he got through this, so he wouldn't have to make this same speech a third time.

"Your honour. I do not deny my crimes. However, as you said, they took place now nearly a century ago. I led unofficial church groups in prison which turned many people to better behaviour. I has released from my sentence- 7 charges of attempted murder at eight years each and seven charges of first degree murder at twenty years each- literal centuries early for my good behaviour, an absolutely unprecedented decision. And as one of my letters of recommendation will tell you, I stayed in prison an extra year to support the people I'd met there. What's more, and I know this is old news to you, I am immortal. The amount of life experience I could gain is immense, and I want to climb my way up through the catholic church system so that I can pass it on. Even now, I am 133 years old. Through prison and in my music career before it, I heard the stories of more people than I can count. I have experience in dealing with the worst sinners, and as we all know, a church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints. There are few people with as much life experience as me and fewer whose minds are still sharp. In short, I have made a positive impact on people's lives, and I want to get myself in a position where I'll be able to do that for as many people as possible. Thank you."

Sammy was breathing heavily from emotion as he finished his speech and sat back down. The judge said some words that Sammy barely registered about letting the jury decide. Sammy's stomach knotted up and he felt like either screaming or disappearing.

Half an hour later, he emerged from the courthouse elated, as a licensed priest. The letter was in his mailbox once he got home. Sammy laughed, then ripped it up. Today was the first step on the path to his destiny. Why would he in a million years want to die?

---

A copy of the letter came to Bickmore Insane asylum. The receptionist opened it and saw that it was addressed to one of the patients, Joseph "Joey" Drew. The receptionist did not feel badly for reading the patient's mail. For one thing, Joseph couldn't have read it anyhow. For another, Joseph honestly deserved it.

Rumour had it that decades ago- and it was decades, since Joseph was one of the immortals- Joseph had been given l a sentence spanning centuries for seven charges of attempted murder, twenty-something charges of murder, and innumerable charges of unlawful imprisonment. One of his victims had been the murder of a seventeen-year-old boy, and as a result, prison was not at all kind to Joseph. The other prisoners would beat the life out of him regularly, doing things to him that would kill most people, including giving him severe brain damage and forcing him to stumble around for hours on end as his brain repaired itself. As a result, Joseph was quickly moved to protective custody, and then to solitary confinement.

After the trauma of his treatment by the other prisoners and the solitary confinement had left him far too anxious and aggressive to be kept with the others, he was sent to Bickmore, where he at first seemed to make a quick recovery. There was, after all, a physical component to trauma, and Joseph's brain was just as resilient as the rest of him. But every time he seemed nearly ready to be transferred back to prison, he would cause a scene with panic visible in his eyes. He would begin to scream nonsense about beetles in his veins, throw objects, and attack faculty members and fellow patients. It didn't matter how many times it was explained to Joseph that he would be transferred right back to protective custody this time and the other prisoners would not be able to hurt him. Joseph did not want to go back to prison, and would do anything to buy himself more time.

As time went on, Joseph's apparent breaks from reality became more and more realistic. He would question faculty members about whether he was going back to prison, and attack them out of suspicion. The final straw, however, was when, on the first day he'd been allowed near other patients unsupervised since his last outburst, stabbed a 60-year-old schizophrenia patient with a butter knife and then a fork because he was convinced she was a spy for "the prison system." Joseph was pulled off of her, put into permanent solitary confinement, and sedated. Even now, he was in solitary, treated with the extreme care one would use for a dangerous beast, and kept heavily sedated.

Of course, the secretary didn't know any of that. Unless one had access to his files, that was all rumour- myth. She passed the letter onto her superior, who called Allison to ask that she send the drug. It was about time that someone put Joseph Drew out of his misery.

---

Thomas Connor had been making pancakes for his family when Boris brought him the mail in his mouth. Thomas smiled and took it with no word but a pat on Boris' head. The mail that day consisted of two letters and a newspaper. The first letter was just a bill, but the second one was from Allison Pendle.

What could that crazy bitch want from him? Thomas didn't know. A while ago he would have been mad, but now it had been so long that he honestly didn't feel anything. At least he had Alice to talk to if it was romantic. "Boris, could you take over for me?" he asked, moving over to the kitchen table to open the letter. Once he'd read it over, he crumpled it up, then uncrumpled it and found a fresh sheet of paper on which to write a reply.

Dear Allison

Thomas paused. He supposed he ought to keep this formal, at least at first, and wrote down her last name before continuing.

What are you up to? I don’t think I’ve seen you in person since that one time with the New York City Police.

Me, I’m still an engineer. Not for GENT- they went out of business a while after I left them. I’d worked for a few different places, but most recently (ha- “recently.” It was decades ago!) I’ve been hired by an elite team of researchers who were looking into the ink machine. We eventually figured out how to save the people within these ink shells. You see, some of them have a human soul and a toon presence, and some get a third, demonic presence mixed in. We just had to separate them and give them separate bodies. Or cubes, in the case of the demons and toons. Don’t want them running away on us, do we? Anyhow, the humans took first priority. I saved that Buddy kid that we met and kept him at my house for a few years so that he could finish his schooling. After we were done with the people though, some bleeding heart thought we should give proper bodies to the cartoons because they “had over two decades of life experience, could feel pain and emotion,” you see where this is going. I thought it was stupid, but I was being paid to be an engineer, and if this was to be my project, so be it.

Thomas stopped and looked up. An Edgar (yes, an. Thomas had two) was playing Snakes and Ladders with Bendy and Alice on the floor. Dog, who was one one of his three Borises and the only one who walked on four legs like, well, a dog, was currently getting confronted by two sets of Charleys and Barleys for making his other Edgar cry. The Boris lowered himself to the ground in a doglike show of submission and apology, which the butcher gang members seemed to accept.

I guess they were right. Bringing them all back was a gradual process, and we could adopt some of them out. You’d be surprised how few people want to adopt a bunch of living cartoons with a truckload of trauma and no knowledge of the real world, though. I ended up with eleven of them. And it was supposed to be temporary, but now there’s a whole bunch of em’ I don’t want to separate (butcher gang trios especially) and, well, I guess I’m stuck with them. Not that I don’t like them, but I kind of wish I weren’t so tied down. I feel like I could do great things as an engineer, and while I love my kids, I kind of don’t want them to be my eternity, you know?

So that’s all to say, no. I can’t die. Can’t abandon my kids. But I’d love to see you again. Maybe I could come into town and meet up?

-Your fellow immortal, Thomas Connor

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Unkillable Eternal and Infinite #allison pendle #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #joey drew #Thomas Connor

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

Killing Time 7/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: In the morning, bad choices are made, and airs are cleared.

Notes: I would say trust me, I know what I'm doing, but that would be a lie. ;) I'm absolutely ready for the onslaught of whatever this causes. (No, really, I do know what I'm doing and where this is going...) For the Writer's Month prompt #13: feelings. Please please PLEASE mind the tags on this fic. I've added a couple new ones for this chapter, and I will be adding more. I'm going to try to keep the violence and things more implied and not graphic, but if anyone thinks I need to add a warning, please let me know.

Warnings: Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags. New warning for miscarriage.

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Present Day...

Belle woke up slowly.

Her body had sunk into the plush mattress, warm and heavy, pulled there with the help of the comfortable weight behind her. She smiled and stretched her legs, which pushed her hips and ass backwards. A light gasp slipped out when she felt something very obvious and very hard pressed against her. As much as she wanted to resist, wanted to be the better person and put the mistakes that had happened between them behind her, her body responded all too easily. She shifted again, rolling her arse back and biting her lip to hold back the moan in her throat.

Yesterday had been total shit - no, worse than total shit, whatever that was. The kind of shit that ended with being assaulted by a psychopath. Sleeping with someone, with Ian, had helped. She hadn’t woken up once after he came to bed with her, holding her all night, but she knew that in the daylight it would all come back. By noon she’d be jumping at every little noise. There was also all the paperwork to deal with. She’d promised Rogers and Graham she’d come to the station today, to give her official statement and talk about where they all went from here.

But for a little while, she wanted to forget.

Behind her, Weaver stirred, his arm around her midsection tensing and pulling her back against him. She smiled and ran her nails gently down his forearm, drawing a low, contented sound out of him. His brain wasn’t quite caught up to what was happening, and all he could focus on was the soft warmth at his front, and the gentle rubbing of her arse against his very erect cock.

He pulled back with a groan, and she twisted to look over her shoulder at him. “Good morning.”

He rubbed his eyes and frowned as she wiggled back and forth, and his hand dropped to her hip to stop her. “What - what are you doing?”

She did it again, and he rolled away, trying very hard not to give and do something she’d regret again, but she followed him, turning over until she was laying half on top of him. Her leg came up over his, her hand resting on his chest.

She grinned down at him. “I thought you could help me forget my bad day.”

Weaver blinked hard, his body still not quite free of the fog of sleep. “Belle, I -”

His words were cut off by her claiming his mouth, pushing her tongue against his lips. He opened for her immediately, groaning as she surged inside, kissing him hard and fast. She pushed up on one hand, the other skimming down his body to the band of his boxers, and then over it to press the heel of her palm against the ridge of his cock. His hips lifted automatically, one hand pushing her hair back as they kissed, and the other sliding down her back to the curve of her backside.

He wanted nothing more than to give in and do as she asked, make all of it go away, everything that happened to her, to them, but that was a fantasy. If he rolled them over, pushed her down to the bed, and let himself sink deep inside her willing body, there would still be a mess to deal with when it was over. He loved her and he wanted her desperately. He wanted to taste her again, to lose himself in the slick heat and sharp gasps, to hear her cry out in his ear while her pussy spasmed around his cock. But not like this, not when it was simply a way for Belle to distract herself for a short time and push him away again later.

They’d both done that enough.

Belle broke the kiss, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip, and then pushed up on her hands. The look she was giving him was practically feral, and he could feel how aroused she was, how easily she’d let him do anything he wanted, and how prettily she’d beg for more. It took almost everything he had to hold her and himself back from taking things any further.

“Belle, stop,” he managed between lungfuls of air.

She frowned and leaned in to kiss him again, but he caught her with a hand in her hair and on her shoulder.

“Stop,” he repeated, and she pulled away.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Weaver pushed himself up to sit and shook his head. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Excuse me?” She let out a short scoffing laugh and tugged her shirt down. “Was I not obvious enough? Would you like to feel how wet and horny I am right now?”

He put that thought to the side and wiped a hand over his mouth, as if he could take the feeling of her kiss away with it. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked, climbing off the bed. “Don’t want to fuck me?” Her arms folded over her chest, and she gave him a pointed look as his head dropped. “Because I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No, Belle, it’s -”

“It’s what, Ian?” Her voice rose in pitch along with her anger. She rubbed her arm where the killer had held onto her, hating that she could still feel him there, and that she couldn’t replace it with anything else in her mind.

“It’s a mistake,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to hers. “And I know you don’t want to make another one of those.”

Belle’s lips quivered and her vision blurred momentarily as tears formed at the edges of her eyes. She sucked in a breath through her nose, her head nodding slowly. “Oh, right. Like I didn’t want to four days ago? Like when you fucked me against the wall of my office?”

Weaver’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying you didn’t want me to do that? Because I pretty clearly remember someone begging me to do it harder.”

“Yes!” Then she shook her head and took a breath to steady herself. Everything was wrong and most of it was her fault. “No, no, I did, I definitely did, but - fuck...”

“Belle,” he sighed, holding out a hand to her.

Her smile was flat, her fingers curling into fists as she unfolded her arms. The warm, happy feeling she had awakened with fading into cool annoyance. “No, don’t. Fuck you, it’s too late now.”

She spun on her heel and all but stomped out of the bedroom, and Weaver tossed back the sheets. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a long moment, waiting for his erection to fully subside. The last thing he needed was to go into the living room to have an argument with his ex-wife with his cock bobbing like an idiot in front of him, like a beacon flashing that he really was that pathetic and weak where she was concerned because he’d gladly let her lead him around by it. Now he was wishing he'd just let her have what she wanted. They'd both have been happier that way; at least for twenty minutes or so.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hands over his face before he stood up.

Belle went to the kitchen and started to make coffee, though mostly she was just opening and slamming cabinet doors as she got out the grounds and the box of filters. All of it was in the same place, right where she’d put it when she’d moved in, of fucking course. The same, but not, just like her, just like them.

She blinked and felt hot trails tumble down both of her cheeks, and she stopped to angrily swipe at them before opening the bag of coffee and taking out the little scoop inside. It smelled like heaven, and she stood there for a minute, breathing in the aroma of dark roast Colombian, and trying to get herself under control when a hand came to rest on the small of her back.

She whirled around, swinging her arm up, and forcing Weaver to back away hastily. “Don’t.”

He held up his hands and took another step back. “Fine, but would you tell me what the fuck all that was about?”

Dropping the scoop on the counter, she turned and leaned against the edge, shooting Weaver a glare. “Nothing.”

He scoffed. “Nothing? Okay, right.”

“What?” she asked, shrugging one shoulder. “What do you want me to say?”

Weaver shook his head. “I don’t know, how about the fucking truth for once?”

“Yeah, like you’d know what that was.” She turned back to the coffee, and fumbled the bag, knocking it over and spilling grounds over the light granite, and sending a dusting to the floor. “Shit.”

“Here, let me.” He moved towards her, reaching to take the bag, but she batted him away.

“Just leave it,” she snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Belle, you need to deal with this -”

“I am,” she said, turning to him again. “That was me trying to deal with it. Badly, apparently.”

“Apparently?” His eyebrows lifted.

She closed her eyes for a moment as her fingers curled against her leg. “Right because you’re the only one allowed to do that, I forgot. It’s only okay if the great Jonathan Ian Weaver does the stupid, self-destructive thing.”

He sighed. “That’s not what I’m -”

Belle was having none of it, and continued on, interrupting him. “I’m not allowed to want to fuck my husband to forget about the fact that I almost died. Or to use the same shit you always do so you don’t have to think about what a shitshow the world really is.”

She took a step closer, ignoring the grimy feeling of the coffee sticking to her bare feet. “Which coping mechanism am I allowed to use, Ian? The one where you shove a guy’s head in a barrel full of water and nearly kill him?!”

“He was working for a human trafficker, and I put them both in prison!” he screamed, his lips pulling back to bare his teeth as he leaned towards her. “I solved that case!”

“And I lost our baby!”

She tipped her chin up, her eyes wide and shining, until he took a staggered step back, pressing his lips together. It took a second for her brain to register what she’d said, and when it finally did, the room spun around her and she dropped to the floor.

Her knees made a sickening thud on the hardwood, and Weaver rushed to her. He got down next to her and pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest even as she fought to push him away. After a few feeble shoves, her arms gave, and she let out a sob that was half a scream and whole agony. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck as her fingers pulled at his t-shirt, digging her nails into the fabric and the skin beneath it, making him hiss in pain.

She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed against his shoulder, her mouth open so wide that her teeth caught and scraped against his throat. Her body ached and shook as she cried, hot, heavy tears for herself, for him, for the eleven weeks they kept a beautiful secret all to themselves. He was on the verge as well, she could hear it in his voice as he shushed her, petted her hair, and told her it was okay. But it wasn’t. None of it was okay, not then and not now.

After a few minutes, Belle’s energy was sapped and all she could manage was a few small hiccups and sniffles. Weaver shifted and was able to get his aching legs out from under him to sit back against the cabinets and pull her across his lap, her face resting against the center of his chest and his chin on the top of her head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his throat dry and tight.

She sniffed loudly and rubbed at her nose. “I know.”

The words were muffled against his shirt, but he heard her, and tilted his head to press a kiss to her forehead. She'd called him her husband, not her ex, not her co-worker. Husband. He wanted that to mean something so badly, but it could have just as likely been a slip. He swallowed hard, fighting to hold back what he really wanted to say, but all it took was another pitiful sound from her to pull it right out of him.

“I love you.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, her hair a mess and her face red, and tear streaked. One corner of her mouth curved briefly. “I know.”

He exhaled heavily, letting out every bit of air in his lungs as he sagged against the island, and hugged her tightly. She brought one arm up over his, and squeezed back, her eyes falling closed as she breathed. They’d lost so much, and then they’d lost each other. Maybe now, amidst the blood and anguish and chaos, they’d found something too.

Weaver opened his mouth to say they should probably get off the kitchen floor, but the shrill sound of his phone ringing stopped him. Belle jerked against him, startling for a moment at the noise, but then she pushed herself up, grabbing a hold of the edge of the counter to stand. He managed to get himself upright, rather gracelessly, and hurried towards the bedroom.

Belle took a slow, deep breath, running a hand through her hair before she followed after him, her emotions feeling a bit too raw. He met her in the doorway of the bedroom, his face unreadable and the phone pressed to his right ear. The little crease in his brow deepened, and crossed her arms, biting her lip as she waited while he nodded, said a quick thank you to whoever he was listening to, and lowered the phone.

“That was Rogers,” he said, staring down at the phone screen for a second before he met her eyes. “They found him; they found Jack.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #fic #killing time #lemon fic

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