#but hes healthy and has been treated!!! just needs his shots and fixing once hes old enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingandfireheart · 3 years

Text

Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post

For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:

What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)

What stories are left: Lucien

When Lucien introduces himself:

"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."

When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:

"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:

"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of. "Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat. I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep." "It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at." At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it. "You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already. Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."

When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:

He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile. Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door. A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.

When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:

Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"

When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:

“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword. Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”

When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:

"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?" Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"

When they run into the Boggee:

"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look." Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.

When he gives Feyre a title:

"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that? Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:

“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?" "Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back. Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that. But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.

When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:

Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.

When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?" Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."

When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:

Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you." Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin. No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."

When Lucien hides:

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."

When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:

Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut." He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."

When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?" "Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?" That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats." Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh. "I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre." I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat. "I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said. A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”

When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:

What?”

Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”

“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.

When Lucien is the mom friend:

"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?" "Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck. "What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded. I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it." Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.

When Lucien loves drama:

"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!" Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. "While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair. I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.

When Lucien bolts:

“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.

Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

When Feyre goes to a party:

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae." ...

I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight." "Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party." "Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?" Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....

"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.

When Lucien plays a prank:

"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."

When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:

“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”

“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.

“Human fool,” he hissed.

But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.

“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.

"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”

When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.” I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous. “You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.” He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him. “Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”

When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:

"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again." He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it." "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"

When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:

Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm." "I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said. Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."

When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:

“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?” “I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.” Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”

When Lucien is a fashionista:

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

When game recognize game

“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.

I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.

But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.

Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

When Lucien is scared of Amren:

“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”

“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”

“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.

When Lucien is a little murderous:

“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”

Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”

When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”

“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”

A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.

When Lucien makes a friend

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

“You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”

#lucien vanserra #sass appreciation #this is 90% acotar #I didn't include ACOFAS or ACOSF because his sass is not as strong #other than calling Rhys and Feyre assholes #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

386 notes · View notes

wlw-multi-fandom-imagines · 3 years

Note

Hey, may i ask for a little scenario where Cheryl blossom falls for a new Femreader student who's a pro kick boxer and can kicke asses (but at first sight she doesn't seem like it) when reader intervens on day when Cheryl Veronica and Betty start an argument with some guys from the sport team who are quite violente. Thank you !

Before she signed you up for your first lesson, your mother had very solemnly laid out a few ground rules regarding your year-long campaign start kickboxing.

1. No hanging out after hours at the gym

You were only 14 at the time, but your mom wasn’t naive and she noticed the intensity in your gaze as you’d pass the gym and the way your face reddened as you stammered out a few words to the older girls standing out front when they asked if you were interested (in kickboxing, of course). If she was going to pay for lessons, you’d better be focused on your trainer and not securing a hookup for later.

2. No hiding injuries

You had hated going to the doctor since childhood, and it became apparent early on that you would go to great lengths to avoid doing so. From denying fevers to the time you had hidden two broken toes for a week, you always made every effort to mend yourself up before revealing anything was wrong. If you were going to fight, you had to be honest and suck it up enough to see a doctor if you needed to.

3. No fights outside the ring.

That one had been hard to stick to at times. Though not violent by any means, you were quick-tempered and needed to get a handle on it if you were going to get “punching lessons”.

You had agreed to all of these rules, to your mother’s subtle surprise, and had been in the gym every afternoon after school since. And, to her immense relief, you didn’t allow the other women at the gym to distract you. It was easier than you had initially thought, especially considering most of them were hot-headed and honestly a little too similar to yourself to consider dating.

Cheryl, on the other hand...Cheryl got you wrapped around her finger within weeks of your arrival to Riverdale. Your official tour guide to the new school, Betty, had introduced the two of you during your lunch period. One look at the subtle flex of your muscles beneath the shirt you were wearing was enough to catch her attention, and the game was on.

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

“Hey, your girl and her little friends are starting a fight.”

You looked up from your phone, frowning in confusion at the unfamiliar person in front of you. You hadn’t cared to get to know many others at the school once settling in with Cheryl and her friend group, but judging by the sweatshirt, this was clearly the girlfriend of one of the lacrosse players.

“What?”

“Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica are in the parking lot with some of the football-”

You didn’t bother staying to hear the rest, opting instead to zip up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder. Standing up quickly, you brushed past a few fellow students just arriving in the student lounge and high-tailed it towards the front entrance.

As you neared the doors, you saw a small crowd gathering near the parking spots that were unofficially reserved for the football players (aka: if you parked there and weren’t on the team, your tires were going to be deflated by lunch) and quickened your pace.

“You seriously don’t have anything better to do than fake an insurance claim against a sophomore?”

Veronica’s voice was the first one that you could make out clearly as you pushed your way through the spectators. A knot tightened in your stomach as you finally broke into the center of the crowd and spotted her, Betty, and Cherly at a standoff with five douchebags in letterman jackets. You glanced around the sea of unfamiliar faces, hoping to spot Archie or hell, even Jughead.

Nope. You were the only reinforcement so far.

“Look, the little freak clearly came whipping into the parking lot way too fast and smashed into me and I have a few witnesses here that will back me up.”

“As if. You literally almost ran Jughead and me over the other morning,” Betty pipes up.

“And for someone always flexing Daddy’s money, you’d think you’d be able to afford to get a little scratch fixed. Actually, I bet your Daddy would just love to hear all about this and all about that time two summers ago when you-”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch.”

The Lead Douchebag lunged forward, a sudden surge of anger and panic replacing the smug features that had painted his face before Cheryl began her remark. Whatever happened two summers ago was clearly something he intended to take to his grave, and she had struck a nerve in the same way that watching him rush her like that struck a nerve with you.

“Oh!”

The crowd reacted to your swift punch with one unified sound of surprise and teenage exhilaration, but the ringing in your ears drowned out any further responses over the next few minutes. Five against one wasn’t a fair match by a long shot and you took quite a few blows, but the football players didn’t have the form or the stamina that you had. So, when you landed a solid hit to the face or a kick to the leg, it gave you enough time to move on to the next opponent.

The scene soon descended into chaos, with more students arriving to add to the jeering, screaming sea of onlookers desperately trying to record every second of action on their phones. Eventually, Archie and Jughead were among them and turned it into a 3v5 before a few administrators caught wind and rushed outside to break things up.

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

“My mom is gonna be so pissed.”

Cheryl’s head tilted to the side, expression soft and filled with subtle adoration as you pressed an icepack to your cheek and slumped against the back of the bench outside of the principal’s office. Apart from your face, your left side and your knuckles are really the only things that hurt much right now.

“No she won’t; Principal Honey isn’t even calling home and we aren’t in trouble.”

“Yeah, but this will bruise,” you said, shifting the ice, “and I’m not great at lying to her.”

“God, your healthy relationship with your mother is constantly both surprising and refreshing.” The redhead reached over to squeeze your leg and you looked away, a little bashful at how she always teased you over the difference in parenting styles your mothers had utilized. “But is it really that big of a deal? Surely she has to be used to this kind of thing by now.”

“Not exactly. I’ve never actually been in a fight outside of, you know, the scheduled ones...” you admitted, once again feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Cheryl looked surprised and like she didn’t fully believe your statement.

“Never? And here I thought you spent your days before Riverdale saving many a damsel in distress.”

“Nope.”

“Well today you saved three, since I’m deciding to count Betty and Veronica as my fellow damsels. And to say thank you, we’re treating you to dinner at Pop’s and then drinks and a little performance in the speakeasy.”

You arched an eyebrow, then grimaced at the flash of pain in your face.

“Performance?”

“Just something we’re throwing together,” Cheryl winked mischeviously and just like that, any lingering concerns about your mother’s reaction to this disappeared.

#cheryl blossom #Cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #wlw imagines #wlw imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale x reader

420 notes · View notes

ambria · 3 years

Text

everytime // Sirius Black

Sweetener x Marauders

play ‘everytime’ by Ariana Grande <3

pairing: sirius black x reader

word count: 2.3k ✨

warnings: angst, fluff at the end, mentions of drinking, under-age drinking, partying, depression?, mentions of drugs and drug use, someone trying to take advantage on the drunk reader, crying? Let me know if I missed something.

This also might have a few time jumps

A/N: I wrote this in 1st person but I feel like I should make these in 3rd so that’s what I’ll start doing. But this is also my first time making a one-shot fic so cut me some slack if it’s trash. But I hope you enjoy!

I get tired of your no-shows

Taking in the warmth through my fingers I look at the door once more before glancing at the clock.

He’s late. Again

I take a deep breath to cool down my nerves and sigh. I sip the rest of my butterbeer before looking at the entrance once more and packing my stuff and walking out. I look around once more before giving up and walking back to the castle.

You get tired of my control

As I’m walking back I start to get more irritated by the step. This isn’t the first time he’s done this. Always too busy to hang out because of him with his friends or too busy because of pranks. The missed dates and the interrupted times. All for his friends. I’m clearly not a priority in his life and that has to change or I’m not going to be in it.

Walking through the castle I collect my thoughts on how I’m gonna approach this situation. But since I’m so pissed off, I’m gonna take an angry approach.

I walk up to the gryffindor common room and say the password before walking in.

As I stepped into the common room, lo and behold, the marauders spread on the couches talking loudly and laughing. Seeing that made my blood boil. As I walk over I catch the attention of the brunet,

“Y/N!!!!! Hey!!!” The Potter boy called out. I gave a weak smile. Which caught the attention of my boyfriend.

“Hey, babe.” He smiled at me. I internally roll my eyes and keep an emotionless face on. At this point all the attention from the boys is on me.

“Hey. Can we talk?” In the corner of my eye I can see Remus and James glance at each other and look worriedly at Sirius. Yeah. They know better.

“Uhh. Sure. About what?” This time I rolled my eyes. I ignore his question and grab his hand before dragging him up to his dorm.

We enter and I close the door before leaning on it. He goes and sits on the foot on his bed.

“What do you want to talk about? We were in the middle of planning.” Bouncing his knee, I can tell he’s getting impatient and just wants this to hurry up and be done with this. I get even more annoyed at this.

“What do you want to talk about? We were in the middle of planning.”- I mocked him- “This is exactly what I’m talking about! You’re always busy! Doing this and doing that!” I start to raise my voice. My face starts to heat up due to my anger. I try to calm down but it doesn’t seem to be working.

He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off,

“Where were you today?! I was waiting for you! For our date that YOU literally planned!” His eyes widened with realization and looked at me with a guilty face. But I’m too pissed off to care.

My eyes start to water with tears of frustration but I’m nowhere near done,

“Everytime I want to hang out you’re always busy with your friends and pranks! You never have time for me anymore!” At this point tears are streaming down my face and Sirius doesn’t look that far behind.

“This is the third date you missed! Because you forgot! I’m done with being second best. Im probably not even that!” He has his head down, hands on his knees.

“I—I-I” he stutters out what I think is going to be some wack apology. But I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.

“No. I’m done.” As soon as I said those words his head shot up fast and looked at me with wide eyes.

“No-” he goes to protest but I cut him off again.

“No I can’t do this. Not anymore. This has gone on for too long. You need to fix your priorities. I hope you don’t treat another girl like this. I’m breaking up with you, Sirius.” I don’t wait for a reply and I simply walk out of the door and walk back down to the common room, wiping my tears.

They keep telling me to let go

As I make it to the common room I notice the boys are still there. They see me and go to talk but a loud sound cuts them off. Items getting thrown around, is what I guessed it to be.

We all freeze and guilt washes over me. It’s Sirius.

But I don’t really let go when I say so

I turn my head to the staircase with a sad expression before brushing it off.

I had to. I deserve better. I thought to myself.

I look over to the boys to see that they have worried but knowing expressions on their faces. I gave them weak smiles and walked away to my dorm.

I keep giving people blank stares

Drama travels fast around here at Hogwarts. So it wasn’t long until word got out that infamous Sirius Black was single again and back on the market.

My friends are starting to get worried about me because of my reaction to the breakup, or lack thereof. I know how to keep my emotions buried. I know it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism but I refuse to be sad over a boy who treated me like shit.

I’m so different when your not there

What they don’t know is that I cry myself to sleep. Everyday. I close my curtains around my bed and put a silencing spell around it and sob. For hours. It’s pretty sad.

But I keep my neutral face on for everyone else. From what I know Sirius isn’t doing much better. He’s just more open about his broken heart. Lily tells me he mopes around and doesn’t speak much anymore. Let alone prank anyone.

Everytime she tells me about him being sad it makes me want to run out the room and find him to cuddle with him and kiss him and apologize profusely for the break up.

But I remind myself that it’s not my fault and that I deserve better.

It’s like something out of Shakespeare

Because I’m really not here when you’re not there

I tried to fight our energy

It's been three months since the break up and I have developed some pretty bad habits.

I’ve secretly been drinking to numb the pain. I know it’s not healthy but I can’t seem to stop.

Once all my roommates are sleeping I drink by myself on my bed. It helped in the beginning but now I can’t stop.

I’ve perfected my fake smile so no one could tell the difference. Well one person did, but I was unaware.

I’m in a deep depression and I have no one to talk to. None of my friends know, I can’t tell them. They won’t understand.

Meanwhile,

“Pads, you can’t keep moping around. She’s moved on, you should too.”

“No, I can’t. I still love her.” Sirius said but due to him being face first on his pillow it came out muffled.

“Well then you’re going to have to work your way to get her back. Show her you’ve changed.” The werewolf suggested to his friend.

“Really?” He picks his head up to face his friends, red and puffy eyes with a hopeful expression.

They nod.

But everytime I think I’m free

As the weeks pass I start to receive notes and letters with little flowers attached to them. I know they are from Sirius but I can’t seem to open them and read. It’s too hard and I’m not ready yet.

You get high and call on the regular

Once I reach my empty dorm I run to my trunk and collect all the saved letters. I place them on my bed and chuck my shoes off before climbing on my bed while getting comfortable.

I sort the letter from how I received them. I slowly open the first one,

Dear y/n,

Looking at us now I regret a lot of things.

I don’t blame you for not seeing us together in the future.

I was horrible, but for you I am willing to change. No. I will change.

You deserve so much better and if you let me I could be that person.

But I have to fix myself in order for that to happen.

If you're willing I would love to have another chance.

forever yours,

Sirius

As I finish reading my eyes are cloudy with tears. I continue to read all of the letters.

And by the end of it I’m sobbing.

I get weak and fall like a teenager

I knew it was a bad idea to read those letters. Because after that I am ready to run back into his arms and express my love. But I can’t until I know that he’s changed.

I deserve better. I keep telling myself that.

Why, oh why does God keep bringing me back to you?

Everytime I see him now I try to avoid him. Everytime he’s in a room, I leave. Everytime class is over I run out before he gets the chance to talk to me.

Because I know if I take one look into his beautiful stormy gray eyes I will fall all over again. And that can’t happen.

I deserve better.

I get drunk, pretend that I’m over it

It’s Friday night and today is the big Gryffindor party. Being stressed with liquor and drugs is not a good combo but I haven’t been safe these past couple of months.

I’m in my dorm room getting ready. I decide on a natural glam look with a bold red lip and a black satin body con dress with some black heels.

As I’m walking down the stairs, I can hear the music blasting and the red led lights are turned on. I part from my friends and immediately head to the liquor table. As I’m walking I fail to notice the pair of eyes following my every move.

I take a plastic red cup and I fill it up with the hardest liquor I could find on the table. After downing the cup I refill it and make my way over to my friends who are currently in the corner smoking what the muggles call ‘weed’. It’s strong but it helps me relax. Who knew muggle were so helpful.

Self-destruct, show up like an idiot

About an hour into the party everyone was either high, drunk or both. Which I was. Again me with my unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I ended up dancing in the middle of the room with a huge group of people. I feel eyes on me but I’m too drunk to care at the moment.

As I’m dancing I feel someone come up behind me and grab my hips. I turn around to see a random 7th year boy. He begins to trail his hands on my body.

He leans down to whisper in my ear,

“How about we go to my down, sweetheart?” His hot breath makes a shiver run down my spine, and not in a good way.

I began to shake my head while saying no but he clearly didn’t get the message because he gripped my wrists and tried to pull me with him. But because I was too drunk I couldn’t defend myself properly.

As I continue to struggle I see a person step in front of me, glaring at the boy,

“I suggest you let her go. Now.” I heard a familiar voice, I couldn’t tell who from my drunken state. Once the person turned around a smile involuntarily appeared on my face,

“Siri! Hi!” I giggled as he guided me away from everyone.

“Hi. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He picks me up bridal style and starts to carry me up to the boys dorms and to his room.

I yawned and cuddled up into his chest,

“I’m still mad at you.” I mumbled. He set me down on his bed and goes to his trunk to take out some clothes,

“I know.” He said, sadly. As he’s helping me I go on a mini rant,

“You know you treated me horrible. I just wanted my boyfriend but you never made time for me. You missed dates, you cancelled on me a lot. And whenever we had time together alone you had to leave early. I just wanted you to give me your love and attention. But I was never a priority. I miss you so much, Siri.” After he tucks me into his bed he kisses my forehead and responds,

“I miss you too, baby.” He goes to walk away but I grab his hand. Which makes him turn around and give me a questioning look,

“Please stay.” I pout. He smiles and climbs into the bed with me. I turn to look at him,

“Cuddles?” I ask him with puppy eyes.

“Cuddles.” I snuggle up next to him with my head on his chest and my legs bunched up with his. He puts his chin on top of my head and begins to play with my hair.

“You know, I still love you. And I’m willing to give you a second chance, Siri.” I can’t see him but I can tell he has a huge grin on his face.

“I love you too, pup. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” I start to drift off but before I do fully I feel him kiss my forehead again and whisper ‘I love you’ one last time before the darkness engulfed me.

Why, oh why does God keep bringing me back to you?

****

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan

If you want to be added to my taglist for this series message me or comment under the post.

176 notes · View notes

pitviperofdoom · 3 years

Note

"Vet AU" as in veterinarian? Definitely curious about that, vets don't get nearly enough love in fiction :) I had never considered that as an AU, but now I'm immediately picturing how it would go!

The Vet AU! Yes, Vet as in Veterinarian.

This one’s a bit scattered, so I’ll just post what I have written and let it speak for itself:

---

Martin was in the middle of doing payroll when Sasha poked her head into the office with a polite knock on the doorframe. “Hey Martin, Room 2 is ready for you.”

“Oh! Thanks.” Quickly, Martin finished filling in the last number, then saved the spreadsheet and got up from his chair. At the sight of her, he bit back a chuckle—she had one of the new puppies settled against her shoulder, wiggling and poking around like a furry little worm. “Tim leave you on babysitting duty?”

“Not his fault,” Sasha said with a grin. “He’s dealing with the rottweiler situation in 5. You good?”

“Yeah, fine—remind me who’s waiting for me in 2 again?”

“According to the appointment schedule, you’ll be handling a general check-up for ‘Sticks’,” Sasha replied. “New patient, new owner.”

“Right, right, yeah.”

They usually stuck him with the first-time patients. Not that Tim and Sasha weren’t perfectly friendly and welcoming, but Martin—at least according to them—had very calming manners. He had the appearance of someone pleasant, patient, and according to Sasha, far less likely to go off on people who came in asking to declaw their cats.

“I have gone off on people for asking to declaw their cats,” Martin had said when she told him this.

“Oh, obviously. You just look like someone who wouldn’t, that’s all.”

That was what he got for being the only one with years of retail experience.

As he approached the door to the examination room, he took a few settling breaths. First-time appointments weren’t always a big deal. A majority of the time, they went smoothly; the animals weren’t familiar enough with what went on in a vet office to be nervous about it, and their owners were just as eager to be polite and pleasant as he was. But once in a while…

Well, once in a while you got someone like Peter fucking Lukas—

He shook his head. No, don’t think about Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas wasn’t worth wasting the space in his brain.

Martin settled his face into a resting pleasant expression, and opened the door.

It didn’t take a great deal of self-control not to stop in his tracks, but it did take a little. More than none. It wasn’t anything bad! Nothing against this new pet owner.

Less than nothing, if Martin were privately, sheepishly honest with himself.

The person was standing by the examination table, with a cat-sized pet carrier beside them. They were tall enough for Martin to look them in the eye without tipping his chin down, which put them a cut above most. Their hair was shoulder-length, mostly black with a bit of dark blond creeping in at the roots, framing a jawline and cheekbones so sharply defined that there had to be at least a bit of makeup involved. The snakebite piercing and the bar through the eyebrow really rounded out the whole look, especially with the long black coat, and the tattoos on the hand that rested on top of the box.

Very nice hands, Martin noted, then shrugged off the observation and funneled all his nervous energy into the safety of politeness.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Dr. Blackwood.”

They shook the hand he offered. “Gerry. Ke—Delano. Thanks for seeing me.”

“No trouble at all,” Martin replied, nodding toward the pet carrier. “I assume that’s my patient in there?”

“Oh, right, yeah—gimme a second.” Gerry Delano unlocked the carrier, then carefully reached in and lifted its occupant out onto onto the table.

“Oh, aren’t you lovely,” Martin murmured. “This is Sticks?”

“That’s him,” Gerry replied, as the small, fluffy, and perfectly black rabbit stretched forward to give a spot on the table a sniff, then retreated back into a loaf shape. Gerry stroked him gently. “Least I think it’s a him.”

“Well, let’s see, then.” Martin reached out, careful not to spook his new patient, and started examining her. He—yes, he—handled it all about as calmly as a nervous rabbit could. Martin didn’t have to grab a towel, at least, nor did he have a repeat of the time a nervous lop tried to jump off the examination table entirely. Sticks tolerated all the poking, prodding, and manhandling, and only got wriggly once before a quick pause and readjustment calmed him back down.

“So how long have you had him?” Martin asked, once he was done. Sticks immediately fled to the nearest safe haven, which turned out to be his owner’s armpit.

“Less than a week, since Monday,” Gerry replied, petting him as he attempted to burrow deeper into his jacket.

“Well, he’s a touch underweight,” Martin told him. “There’s some information I can give you on rabbit care, if this is your first time owning one. He’s not neutered, is he?”

“Probably not,” Gerry replied, grimacing. “I don’t know much about his history. I took him off an acquaintance who got him as a present and wasn’t doing a very good job of things.”

Martin pulled a face. “Pets make poor presents, yeah. Well, he’s old enough to be fixed, and with history like that he probably hasn’t gotten the shots he needs. After we’re done here, you can talk to Rosie out front, schedule another appointment to get those done. What do you feed him?”

Gerry, as Martin discovered, was an absolutely model rabbit owner. He’d done his homework, read up on how to keep a rabbit happy and healthy, and hadn’t scrimped on expenses. It was no wonder Sticks was happy to hide under his arm for the remainder of the appointment; he had a good home with good food and toys and what sounded like a nice setup, habitat-wise.

“What sort of vegetables are good for him?” they asked at one point. “I’m thinking of growing some. I’ve got the space, but I’ve heard too much causes problems?”

They want to grow vegetables for their pet rabbit, Martin thought, a little dreamily. “Leafy greens are a safe bet,” he replied out loud. “Romaine, parsley, cilantro, kale, that sort of thing. Work them in slowly if he’s not used to them, and he’ll be fine. I can give you a list, if you’d like?”

When the appointment was done, a future one scheduled, and the patient safely back in his carrier, Martin finally let himself ask the question that had been on his mind.

“So, is there a special meaning to ‘Sticks’?” he asked. “Is it short for something, or does he like to play with them, or…?”

“What?” Gerry looked confused for a moment, before the question seemed to click. “Oh, no, not Sticks like—he’s Styx as in the river.”

“Oh! Styx, of course. Sorry, I just—I heard it, but I didn’t see it written down—”

Gerry’s grin was crooked, like they were trying to hold it back but only partially succeeding. “It’s fine. And thanks for everything.”

“Oh, no problem, you’re doing great,” Martin assured him, smiling back. “He’s lucky to have you.”

He was pleasantly baffled when a bit of color crept into Gerry’s face. “Right, well, who can resist a bunny.”

“You’d be surprised,” Martin said as he showed him out of the room. “If I get one more new rabbit owner telling me about their lovely outdoor hutch—”

Gerry looked scandalized at the thought as he left, which was another point in his favor.

“What’s that look for?” Tim asked as Martin passed him on the way back to the office. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me Jon has competition again?”

“Oh my God, Tim, give that a rest. There was never any competition!”

“Yeah, Tim, keep it straight, will you?” Sasha called out from the temporary puppy pen. “Oliver wasn’t competition. Martin was jealous of him, remember?”

“Nothing straight about it,” Tim shot back.

“I have payroll to do,” Martin reminded them primly. “You trust me with our finances and then you treat me like this. How dare you. I’m defrauding both of you, see if I don’t.”

***

It wasn’t that Martin fell in love easily, per se. It was just that he had a very specific set of standards when it came to who he found attractive, and in his line of work he always ran into people who either met every single one of them, or disappointed him in every possible way.

When he stepped into examination room 4 and found Jon Sims trying to herd three kittens away from the edge of the examination table at once, he kept his deep sigh on the inside. Jon was batting a thousand, and he’d been coming around long enough for everyone in the clinic to know about it.

“Hello again, Jon,” Martin said, doing a wretched job of hiding his smile.

Jon looked up with a helpless expression. “It’s kitten season,” he said, and Martin poured all his sympathies into a more situation-appropriate sigh.

“It’s kitten season,” Martin agreed. “So, where did these little ones come from?”

“These came from the colony in Battersea,” he replied. “Well, sort of. The mother already has an owner, and said owner keeps letting her out every day, even though I’ve told her time and again there’s that unfixed tom I’ve never been able to catch—and that’s just the one I know of—”

Martin scowled as he examined one of the squirming kittens. Much easier to manhandle than rabbits, he thought, apropos of nothing. “Better than being born on the street, I suppose.”

“Small mercies,” Jon agreed. “Anyway, when the kittens were born she told me either I could take them or she was going to take them to the park and give them out for free, which really isn’t a choice at all. Poor things.” The ginger kitten in his hands squealed until he settled it more comfortably against his shoulder, where it calmed down and immediately tried to eat his hair.

“Gonna find a foster for them, then?” Martin asked.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Jon sighed. “I’d do it myself, but—you know how Duchess is.”

“Yes. How is Duchess, by the way?”

“Cantankerous as ever. You don’t happen to have room, do you?”

“Room, yes. Time…” The black kitten was finished with her exam, and protested when she was put back in the carrier. “Did Sasha tell you about the puppies?”

“I haven’t seen Sasha today,” Jon replied, handing over the ginger kitten when Martin reached for it. “What puppies?”

“Rosie came in early this morning,” Martin informed him, wincing when the kitten bit hard on his thumb. “There was a box waiting by the door, with four puppies inside. No note or anything. So, that’s been fun.”

“I can imagine,” Jon said distastefully. “Are you serious? Someone just left a box of puppies on the doorstep? Like foundlings in a Dickens novel?”

Martin snorted before he could think better of it, startling the kitten into biting him again. Jon was the only person he’d ever met who would use a word like foundlings. “More or less. They are cute, though. Tim says his brother might be interested in taking one, and Sasha says she’s got friends who volunteer at a dog rescue. Retrievers usually aren’t too hard to adopt out.”

“Well, good luck to you. I suppose the season’s hard on everyone.”

The three kittens were in good health, which Martin was more or less expecting. Kittens tended to have a better chance when born in a home than out in the street—even in a less than responsible home. Between the two of them, Martin and Jon got them back into the battered old carrier, where they went back to wrestling each other in the blankets. Jon reached in to tickle one between the ears and got nipped for his troubles, but it only made him smile.

“Well, anyway,” Martin went on, realizing that he’d been staring long enough for it to be rude. “I don’t think you need any follow-up care instructions?”

Jon laughed quietly before closing the carrier. “No, I think I’m alright. Thank you, Martin.”

“It’s not problem. Always a pleasure.” Martin beamed. “Good luck on finding them a foster. And—catching that tom.”

“One of these days, I swear.”

Martin showed him back out to the front. Not necessary, considering how often Jon walked that hallway. But it felt nice to walk beside him, talking shop or chatting about nothing, all to the background tune of healthy, vocal kittens.

After waving Jon off, he turned back to find Sasha watching him from behind the front desk, chin in hand, the very picture of unimpressed.

“What,” said Martin.

“He’s been coming in for months,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to make a move or not?”

“No I’m not going to—Sasha, he’s a client.”

“So? It’s not like you’re his doctor. There’s no conflict of interest or weird power dynamic when your role in his life is taking care of animals he brings in.” Sasha sat back, letting the swivel chair roll backward. “You’re already chatting like old friends every time you see him.”

“I know, I know, it’s just—it’s weird?” Martin shrugged helplessly. “We only ever meet during business hours, so it’s like—how much of our, our, our friendliness is just a working relationship?”

“Easy fix!” Sasha spread her hands wide. “The man works at a cat rescue! You can just swing by and say hello anytime!”

“He works there part-time, and I don’t know what hours! Not like I can just stand outside and case the place until I see him.”

At that moment, the door to the back swung open, and Tim poked his head out. “Could I get some help? Bailey’s giving me some trouble and I need an extra set of hands.”

“Be right there,” Martin replied. To Sasha, he said, “Look, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, we’re just two people who keep meeting in very specific circumstances. And that’s all it needs to be.”

Sasha sighed. “I just think you’re making this out to be more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Martin muttered, and followed Tim into the back.

#the magnus archives #tma fic #vet au #jongerrymartin #tales from the pit #calamityandwoe

112 notes · View notes

riktorart · 3 years

Photo

“Welcome for the third, and (hopefully) final time to the auditorium, beloved students of Night Raven College! Yes, as many of you expect, this assembly is in regards to our ice cream fundraiser, which has yet to take off! However, now that I’ve recovered from my horrific injuries from last month’s assembly, I say it’s time for us to start anew, and introduce our new line of flavors!

… Why are you all groaning??? Truly you’ve not grown tired of ice cream already, have you?! … No, no, it can’t be… You all just must be far too excited to carry on! Very well! I shall introduce to you the newest flavors, and then you’ll be off! Making me… Err, the school, enough Madol to fix the chandelier that was broken (again) last week!

… Hm? Why aren’t we using the past flavors? … Well… You see there was a… Ah, would you look at the time! If we don’t start now, we’ll never finish! Vargas! Bring up the first cooler!!! NOW!!!

-----------

Lemon Zestvolt- Don’t let his frown fool you, this sweet cream is actually quite sweet, with it’s mellow mix of lemon and lime that’ll make you smile! (... Though, it does take quite a while to actually get past the bitter aftertaste… And it’s surprisingly loud… And… It feels like it’s constantly judging my every move according to a standard that’s quite frankly unrealistic… And... You know what? We’re just going to move on for the sake of my self-confidence!)

Blue Berrygrotto- Despite it’s name, this treat’s name is quite deceiving! It’s not just blueberry, but in fact, a mix of eight different types of berries, all baked into a freshly warm pie and served a la Mode with a trustworthy smile~! (… Hm? What do you mean that sounds a bit much…? Ehrm, no matter!)

Even if it’s a bit… Wet, you won’t mind at all once you enjoy it’s wonderfully sophisticated taste! Ah and would you look at that! On sale for only 300 Madol! What a steal~! Make sure you stop by the cafeteria to buy a Blue Berrygrotto today!

Lion-Colored Kingsicle… Stick- … Well! There was a batch of ice cream in this cooler… And now it’s gone. We have no idea where it we- (... Oh, hold on, did we find them?) … Well! Turns out that as we speak, the original ice cream has been found tucked into obscure corners of the college where no person in their right mind would even think to look, or… On beds… (It seems the only reason they’ve been found is because they’ve begun to melt…)

… Well! We still have popsicle sticks available, so why not treat yourself with some? I’m sure at least one of you could find something to do with so many popsicle sticks!

(Warning: If you encounter this treat on your daily commute, simply back away slowly, and contact a trusted member of Night Raven College Staff to dispose of this treat. Do NOT engage. (Night Raven College is not liable for any injuries/death that may result in confrontation of this product.))

Coco’lover!- Ah, did you think this treat was simply coconut! Well, my delightful students, you are wrong! This ice cream is a delicate balance of coconut, and pistachios, a surprisingly friendly combo! … Well, that is as long as you like coconut… And pistachios… (On second thought, this combo wasn’t the best idea now, is it?)

… Ahem! I hear it pairs quite well with baked delights, so do keep that in mind!

Mortho Energy Drink… Sicle- Tell me children, would you like to stunt your growth by drinking unhealthy shots of pure caffeine? Well, I’m here to inform you that is a foolish idea! Why drink them, when you can eat them instead with an ice cream sponsored by Mortho™ Energy Drinks! Whether it’s for a late-night study session, or for an extra kick during finals, Good ol’ Mortho here will help to keep your poor body conscious against its will!

(... Also, please buy these as soon as possible. He’s beginning to miss one of our discontinued flavors, and will melt… (Night Raven College is not liable for injuries/death that may result from consumption of this product. If Mortho™ Energy Drink-Sickle commences Self-Destruction mode, toss it as far as possible, and duck for cover. To avoid such an occurrence from happening, do NOT insult any person with fire-like hair within the vicinity. It WILL hear you, and it WILL be upset.))

Catolate Diamikan- Do you need to take a… (Wait, what was that one site called…? Ah, yes!) MagiCam-worthy photo of yourself and friends? Well, fret no longer students, as this is the treat for you! A picture of you and Catolate’s smile is sure to be a hit! And if it’s not… Well, he’s flavored like white chocolate and oranges, so either way, you’re a winner!

(... Speaking of photos… Trien, why did you not like my “selfie” that I took earlier this afternoon? … Ah, you’re right! This isn’t the time for such trivialities! I shall simply discuss it with you later then!)

Mir-Lot- A treat based on the likeness of our beloved Magical Mirror itself! Doesn’t it look absolutely stunning, in all it’s glory? Ah, even this old bird can’t help but marvel at it’s timeless beauty… This treat is a nice, deep merlot-flavor, (non-alcoholic, of course!) that I’m sure more mature audiences will enjoy…

And even if you don’t… Well, you don’t want to hurt our beloved mirror’s feelings now, do you? You should buy one anyway, just so it knows for sure it’s appreciated~!

Berry Bad Cat- This… “Cute,” little feline’s filled with many surprises, and though most of them are a hassle… This surprise is actually quite pleasant! A bold blackberry taste, sprinkled with small popping candies that seem to light a spark along your taste buds… Why, it’s surprisingly easy to grow attached to it!

(… Wait, what do you mean my tongue has turned black?! Oh heavens, get me a mirror!!! And water!!!)

Ramshackle Special- Um… Well… This ice cream had no specific flavor. It was an amalgamation of every single flavor crafted so we could save funds and resources, and it was quite awful the majority of the time, so we’d lowered the price for 100 Madol, but… Before we even made the official announcement, someone snuck into my office and took every single one… Of course, they were at least kind enough to leave the funds for it all, but…

Oh, who cares about manners?! WHICH ONE OF YOU RELEASED FIREFLIES INTO MY OFFICE?! … Well, if no one will confess to the crime, then everyone will be punished for the crime! … Later, of course!

Now, like before, we have three special options that are just a tad bit above the rest in terms of flavor and appearances, so despite how kindhearted and generous I am… We will have to charge just a bit extra for these three. Surely you all understand~! These next treats are also quite limited, so if you desire to delight in one, make sure you buy them fast! Once they’re gone, they’re gone!!!

(Well… Not completely, but if people are under the illusion that there is no second chance, then they’re be far more likely to make impulsive purchases! Oh ho ho~ Dire, you clever, dapper man, you~ … Wait, did I say that out loud?)

… Anyway! Our first premium snack!

Rhymes Rosetarts- A delightful treat of sweet cherry tarts with cream and… Oh, is that actually a hint of roses I caught?! How interesting! I’d love nothing more than to dig in, yet… For some reason, I feel that even if my manners slip just a tad, that I’d be chastised… Ah, I suppose I will simply have to consume the treat carefully, lest my suspicions are confirmed true… Which they’re not!

(Night Raven College is not responsible for injuries/death resulting from consumption of this product. Make sure to review the rulebook supplied with each purchase before unwrapping this treat. Once it is free from it’s wrapper, it will always have it’s eyes on you…)

Varbucks™ Iced Protein Coffee- Are you fan of coffee? Or perhaps something sweet, but healthy? Well this treat i-”

“OI, DIRE! WHY AM I THE ONLY STAFF WHO’S ICE CREAM WAS AWFUL?!”

“A-ah! Professor Crewel! Well, err… I’ll… Get back to you on that, yes! So why don’t you have an ice cream and calm d-OWN NO, NO, NO!!! GET OFF THE STAGE I’M SORRY CREWEL PLEASE DON’T H-YAHHH!!!”

Apple Farmier- “... Well, I suppose since the Headmaster was forced to step away for “business,” I should wrap up this assembly. The final dessert available for purchase during our school fundraiser will be the... “Apple Farmier?” (... Crowley seems to have a knack for finding such strange names…)

The Apple Farmier is described to have an almost overly-sweet aroma of ripened apples, yet when bitten into, administers a horrific shock from it’s incredibly sour taste. Those who have tried it described an almost numbing sensation on their tongue, and one such person even lost consciousness as a result of it.”

“Meow.”

“(Hm? Quite right Lucious, thank you for the reminder.) If you purchase this treat, do be aware that our esteemed institution does not hold any accountability for any harm that comes upon you. Do consume the product at your own risk… As for the lot of you who’ve decided to fall asleep during the assembly, I shall see you in detention. In case you’re wondering, yes, I see you, and I will remember if you decide to “ditch.”

Now, you are dismissed. Vargas, please make sure the students return to class while I check upon the Headmaster’s condition… (And hopefully this will be the last of these tedious assemblies…)”

-----------

Bonus

-----------

Lionel Kingsbutter- “Have you ever sat down and thought, “Hm, there seems to be something missing in my life… Something… Hard, surprisingly sweet… And yet, something with a mean bite to match it’s bark?” Well, this treat has no bark, but it does have quite a bite! Smooth, delightful cookie butter than just melts upon your tongue, and plentiful chunks of crispy cookies! They’re a bit… Spicy… But strangely... Delicious! (... Water… I need water...! … Thank you, Trien.)

And if that’s not enough, why, just look at it’s adorable little ears, and i-YEOWCH!!! DID IT JUST BITE ME?! IT’S FROZEN CREAM, HOW DID IT DO THAT?! BAD KITTY, BAD KITTY! WHERE’S THE TRASH C-AAAAH IT’S LATCHED ONTO MY CLAWS!!! SOMEBODY, ANYBODY GET IT OFF!!! GYAAAAAAAH!!!”

#Twisted Wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #Sebek Zigvolt #Azul Ashengrotto #Trey Clover #Ortho Shroud #Cater Diamond #Grim Twisted Wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #Ashton Vargas #Epel Felmier #Fan Art #Digital Art #Riktor's Art

176 notes · View notes

reidandweep · 4 years

Text

No Better Outcome

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- I had a request for a Spencer imagine where the reader was held at gun point by the unsub and Spencer had to talk them down. I said it would be finished last week and posted, but to be honest, I hated how it was so I re-wrote the whole thing. I ca’t remember who requested it either.

Word Count- 2336 words

Warnings- Angst, Fluff, mentions of guns and murder.

“What do we know about this guy?”

Y/N glanced at Reid as she continued to drive to their destination. The team had been called to Baltimore on a case the morning before. Four couples had been found brutally murdered in their homes; located across the city. The team had quickly learnt that all the couples were newly engaged and had very healthy, happy relationships.

“Landon Reeves, aged 24. Garcia looked into each of the couples lives and found that Landon works at the local auto repair shop. Each of the males have visited the shop in the past three months, all complaining about the same problem with their cars; faulty breaks. Landon was the one that handled all the bookings.”

Y/N nodded her head as Reid spoke, taking in the information.

“So, we’ve got a 24-year-old, Caucasian, male who has fixed all four male victims’ vehicles in the last 90 days, which they all coincidentally needed the same job doing. Sounds like to me; Landon might have had his eye on them before they entered the shop. There’s too much coincidence between the couples for him not to have.”

Pulling up to a red light, Y/N turned her head to look at Spencer.

“The murders looked disorganised but were actually very meticulous. All the women were mutilated in the bathroom, but their bodies were tucked into the beds. They were covered and their arms crossed; showing signs of remorse. But the male victims were splayed and left out for all to be seen. He hid the women’s modesty and treated the men like animals.”

Honking drew Y/N from her thought process. Swivelling her body to face the wheel once more, she continued to drive.

Spencer comprehended Y/N’s words.

“Maybe he lost a fiancée or girlfriend? Left him for someone else or even cheated.”

Spencer shook his head.

“Usually, if an unsub targets woman that remind him of an unfaithful partner, the attack towards them would be messy, violent, and have shown forms of sexual assault. This hasn’t occurred here. The women were shot clean through the heart. No signs of sexual assault or torture. Garcia already looked into any past relationships of Landon’s. No spousal deaths or even any signs of a partner from his social media. Ever.”

Y/N pulled up on the curb outside their desired location. They had already checked to see if Landon was at work before they travelled to his home. Speaking to his co-workers at the garage, they were more than sure he was their unsub.

“Well, let’s go do our job Dr Reid. All we can do is question for now.”

Spencer chuckled as Y/N opened the SUV door, sliding out and adjusting her appearance; making sure her gun was secure in her holster. Shaking his head, Spencer stepped out and walked to her side.

Walking side by side as they walked up the steps of the house, the pair stopped at the door; Y/N stepped forward and knocked on the wood.

They waited for any sign of an answer. Spencer looked through the window to see a figure walking towards the door.

The pair stood straight as Landon opened the door.

“Landon Reeves?”

“Speaking?”

Y/N glanced at Spencer as he spoke.

“I’m Dr Spencer Reid and this is SSA Y/F/N Y/L/N. Were from the FBI. We just wanted to ask you some questions.

Landon begun to shift uncomfortably in his stance.

“About what?”

Y/N stepped slightly as she spoke, noticing the increased edge of his tone of voice.

“We just want to ask about a few of your customers. Of course, only if it isn’t a waste of your time.”

Landon stood silently for a while before he allowed them into the house.

Insisting Y/N to go first Spencer kept his eye on Landon, just in case he tried to run for it as they walked inside. He didn’t.

Shutting the door behind Spencer, Landon ushered them into the living room; offering them to take a seat on his sofa.

He gave of waves of discomfort. Fidgeting with his hands, biting his lip, and avoiding eye contact. He was guilty of something. But murder? Y/N wasn’t how sure. Something would have had to make him snap.

Y/N allowed Spencer to take the lead in questioning as she discreetly surveyed the room.

“Mr Reeves, on a weekly basis, how many customers do you have come into the workshop?”

Landon shrugged his shoulders.

“It depends. Some weeks are better than others.”

Spencer nodded his head.

“On average, according to the week, how many cars do you repair which the fault concerns the brakes?”

Landon shuffled in his chair as he uncrossed and re-crossed his arms.

“Only about one or two. We mostly get broken taillight or problem with the exhaust.”

Y/N’s eyes caught the pictures on the fireplace as she pretended to write down Landon’s answers. She knew Spencer would remember what he said word for word, so she had no worry but to focus on surveying the area for any information that could help.

Above the mantel piece sat an array of pictures showing Landon with multiple different people. Pulling out her phone, Y/N texted Garcia requesting details on Landon’s family. Not more than two minutes later, she got a reply.

From the information Garcia found, it seemed Landon had a good family. No problems concerning abuse, abandonment, gambling, nothing. But the description of the family didn’t coincide with two pictures. Landon and his family were all brunette. But he had two pictures on the mantle of him and a young blonde woman; who looked eerily like the victims.

“What does me fixing a few brakes and taillights have to do with the FBI?”

Y/N looked up at Landon at the sound of his agitated question.

Spencer went to answer his question, but before he could, Y/N interrupted the young genius.

“How long have you and your girlfriend been together? You’re a very cute couple.”

Landon looked in the direction that Y/N was pointing. His body became tense for a short moment; his hands clenching in fists. Spencer noticed the change in his demeanour.

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just best friends.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“What’s her name?”

Landon licked his lips as his nerves spiked.

“Celeste.”

“Well, I think you and Celeste would make a cute couple. You should ask her out?”

Y/N walked to stand slightly closer to Landon to gage his reaction.

Landon continued to tense up as Y/N carried on talking and walking closer.

“Or is she already taken? Because she looks an awful lot like three women who have been murdered in the following months. All whom were customers of yours.”

Spencer went to step forward.

“Y/N-“

“Does she not call you back anymore Landon? Cancels your plans? Or doesn’t even bother to make them herself?”

“Shut up.”

Y/N took another step closer.

“Is it because she doesn’t love you back?”

Before another step could be taken, Landon suddenly pulled a gun out from the cushion of his sofa, pointing it towards Y/N.

Spencer quickly drew his gun, aiming it at Landon. He could tell by the look on Y/N’s face that she knew he had a gun the whole time.

“Landon put the gun down.”

Through his earpiece, her heard Hotch’s voice.

“Reid, we’re on our way. Y/N’s mobile is called through to Garcia. We can hear everything, so stay calm.”

Spencer kept his focus on Landon in front of him.

“Landon put the gun down and we can talk, okay? She didn’t mean what she said.”

“Yes, she did!”

Y/N flinched at the sudden raised voice from the unsub. She knew the risk when she began to ask him questions. But there had been lives lost, and she did not want to walk away from this suspect, and another life be taken. She would risk herself always. Spencer knew this and he hated that she would always risk herself to save everyone else.

Spencer glanced at Y/N as he saw her flinch. Looking back at Landon, he saw the boys hand shaking. Keeping his own arm locked and in position, Spencer tried to defuse the situation.

“I know how it feel. To be love someone for so long and so deeply that it rips you apart to know they don’t feel the same way back.”

Landon looked away from Y/N and towards Spencer; tears of frustration falling down his face.

“But just because they don’t love you back the same way doesn’t mean they don’t care.”

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from Spencer as he spoke.

Landon shook his head, the gun shaking in his grasp, as he repositions it in his sweaty grip.

“She was the best thing about this place. Everyone said we were meant to be together. Everyone! But she left with him. Moved to a whole different fucking state after knowing him for 2 months. We’ve known each other for 14 years. I’ve loved her for 14 years and she left me for someone she’s known for 2 months!”

Reid licked his lips, preparing himself for what he was about to say. He knew this could change things between him and Y/N, but he couldn’t risk the thought of her getting hurt. Or even worse, dying.

“I was 25 when I met her. I’ve been in love with her for over ten years. Watching her with other men, listening to her date stories, being there to help mend her broken heart, and so much more. We’ve been side by side nearly every day. Spending holidays together and birthdays, even when we didn’t need to. I thought for a while she liked me back. But I couldn’t put her through all the issues and problems that I come with.”

Y/N looked at Spencer in disbelief.

“I knew I loved her approximately four months after I had known her. I accepted she didn’t love me back after two years of hoping that she did.”

Spencer to a cautious step towards Landon; watching as the boy’s grip on the gun loosened as he recognised himself in Spencer’s story.

“But I would rather have her in my life every day, in any other way, than to not have her there at all. Because I would miss having someone to watch Doctor Who with when we both can’t sleep. I would miss the lunch trips to the food trucks when work was quiet. I would miss the good morning texts and goodnight messages. I would miss so much that I get in a friendship, that I wouldn’t in strangers of unreciprocated feelings.”

Spencer took another step forward.

“You choose, Landon. But, if you drop your weapon, and let us take you in, Celeste will still see you as her best friend; who she loves dearly.”

Landon looked at Spencer with tears streaming down his cheeks; his lower lip wobbling. Slowly, he lowered his gun, letting Spencer take it from his hands.

Passing the gun behind him, Spencer focused on cuffing Landon as Y/N quietly stepped forward and grabbed the gun.

Just as he clicked the cuffs shut, the rest of the team walked through the door.

Hotch and Luke moved to take Landon from Spencer, as JJ and Tara moved to consult Y/N. Checking her over for any injuries, the women asked if she was okay. Y/N reassured the pair, but she could not waver her stare from Spencer as he watched Landon be escorted out and into the police vehicle.

Sensing the looming conversation, the team all walked outside, leaving Y/N and Spencer in the house alone.

Silence befell upon them.

Y/N walked towards Spencer, placing a hand on his shoulder as she spoke.

“Spencer I”

Spencer swivelled around in her grip.

Before Y/N could say anymore, Spencer pulled Y/N into a tight embrace. Quickly interlocking her arms around his neck, the pair basked in each other’s presence. Spencer was the first to pull apart.

“Never put yourself in a situation like that again. You realised he had a weapon and still antagonised him. What would you have done if he had fired? What do you think I would…”

Before Spencer could finish berating Y/N, she grabbed his face between her hands and pulled his lips against her own. Moving her hands to tangle into his hair, Y/N pushed her body flush against Spencer, gasping as his hands instantly moved to grip her hips. Pulling her impossibly closer, Spencer’s mouth moved against Y/N’s feverishly.

The pair slowly pulled apart as they both filled their lungs back with air. Spencer couldn’t help but blush under Y/N’s gaze.

Y/N giggled at the rising pink in his cheeks. Placing a quick peck on his lips, Y/N looked Spencer in the eyes.

“I love you Spence. I have for a really long time. That’s why those other guys never worked out because I was trying to get over you, and I couldn’t.”

Spencer couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss her again.

Once again pulling apart, Spencer rested his head against her own, and allowed for the smile to take over his face.

“I love you too. But please stop putting your life in danger.”

Y/N leaned back and laughed at Spencer’s words.

Glancing out the window, she could see the team almost ready to leave. Y/N pulled herself from Spencer’s embrace.

“Unfortunately, with the job we have, that’s one promise I can’t make.”

Spencer rolled his eyes with a smirk.

Y/N placed her hand in Spencer’s, interlocking the digits.

“Come on, Dr Reid. We got a case to officially close.”

The pair walked out the house hand in hand, as they walked towards their team. Giving Spencer’s hand a squeeze, she let his hand go and she continued to speak to Hotch and Luke, about the details of what occurred.

Spencer stood by her side, listening to her words and interjected when needed. While it wasn’t the exact outcome they expected the case to end with, it sure could not have ended any better.

A/N- I hope you enjoy. I have a few ideas that I’m going to write. One in particular is going to be a more personal one so stay tuned.

Taglist- @danielleslegacy

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagines

1K notes · View notes

highfaelucien · 3 years

Note

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex. Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta. And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic. The whole mor/az situation really fucked me up. As someone who is also a lesbian and an abuse survivor, it broke my heart to watch the situation unfold in acowar. It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character. And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him. Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

I'm going to quote parts of this/chop it up and reply to them a chunk at a time. because there's a lot going on here and I want to try and reply to as much as I can because I resonate with.....all of it. Please forgive me for the length of this.

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex.

He feels like a different character? There was always an anger simmering under the calm surface, we knew that. But it was an anger born of love, deep down, and the desire to protect his family, and his court, at the expense of himself. Az was always the first to volunteer himself for dangerous missions, to spare the others.

Now that anger is directed at his family, and at the world, for not giving him what he feels he 'deserves'. That has NEVER been Azriel. Azriel's deepest issues and insecurities have always stemmed from the feeling of being unworthy, and undeserving of anything.

She's just made him into......Every other dude in this series tbh. Snarling, and possessive, and wanting to fuck anything in a skirt that moves.

Azriel was actually somewhat of an original, complex character initially. It's unusual that we see trauma affect men in the way it did Az. Usually it makes them angry, and vengeful, and eager to prove they are the alpha etc. Seeing them withdraw, and think less of themselves/that they're unworthy is something not explored often enough. But bye bye nuance hello #Drama.

Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta.

I feel this. I found a lot of comfort in Az's character. Particularly the way he reacted with Mor. I was a big fan of their relationship, and I wrote a few 'missing scenes' style fics in the gap between ACOMAF and ACOWAR. One of them was where Az went to her when she had pushed everyone else away, including Cassian, and comforted and calmed her.

I hate that Maas took that away from Mor. I hate that Az no longer does that for her. I hate that Az was the one to betray her along with Rhys and bring her abuser into her safe space behind her back. I hate that he is no longer a symbol of calm, stable, dependable comfort and support for Mor, but is instead a threat. I HATE it.

Every now and then Az has lovely, gentle moments - his friendship with Nesta is a good example, and something I hoped we'd see. But also quieter times with Rhys, and their similarities being explored. And I adored the flying lessons with Feyre in ACOWAR, and the training he did with Cassian and the others in ACOFS.

But then she goes and twists him and does something else that just makes me want to fucking scream. Like the High Lord scene where he 'frightened' Mor. And his entire POV chapter which is frankly fucking gross.

And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic.

I agree.

I don't know how she can write a series that explores the effects of emotional abuse so well with Feyre and Tamlin...And then write what she did with Az?

The possession to a traumatised, still impressionable and desperate young woman, who likely finds the same comfort and safety in him that Mor did. Before that got shot to fucking pieces.

He sounds like a whiny toddler 'Cassian has a mate, and Rhys has a mate, where is mine!?!?!?!?' I DESERVE Elain, because I'm your brother and you guys have her sisters and what the FUCK. Who let that shit get published holy mother of god.

It's just...It's so unhealthy? Like, not even talking ship wars here (which I'm aware are rampant, and which I'm trying my best to stay away from). But that just.

How can that ever be a healthy foundation for a relationship? A man who thinks that he deserves, not only to be in a relationship with her, but to be bonded to her. Not because of HER, not because of who she is, or how she makes him feel. No. Purely because her sisters are mated to his brothers?

The whole thing made me feel so uncomfortable. It's predatory and toxic, just as you said. It's not right, it's not fair. Forget alliances and Lucien, even if none of that was a factor, that sort of thinking is still not right. And it's completely unfair to Elain.

But it also just. It didn't read like Azriel. The first part, where he struggles to sleep, and pushes himself until he passes out, and the insight that his shadows are basically hovering beside him screaming SELF CARE YOU DUMB BITCH at all times was very pleasing.

And the part where he goes to Clotho and leaves an anonymous gift for Gwyn. No fanfair. No audience. No pressure on either of them to react/perform. That felt like Az, too.

But everything in the middle. Everything with Elain, was just...Gross and out of character. And this is not because I dislike E/riel as a ship. I could get on board with it, tbh, if it wasn't written the way it was.

But it's not about ships, for me. It's just. Everything felt out of character. The predatory way he was with her. The fact he lies awake and gets himself off to fantasies of her. How apparently quickly he was aroused by putting a necklace on her. Idk, maybe it's my ace ignorance, but that doesn't sound normal/healthy to me.

Nor does him having to leave a room because he can scent her mating bond with Lucien. Or not being able to control himself to sit and eat dinner with her?

This is the same dude who has, apparently, been in love with Mor for 500 solid years, and who never did a damned thing about it. Who always kept himself in check. Even while she's had other lovers. But he can't control himself through one dinner with Elain?

It just. It doesn't feel like him. It feels like...Honestly not even Cassian. It feels like Tamlin on horny, predatory steroids. And that's not something I ever wanted to see from Azriel's POVs.

She could have explored a darker side to him without making it sexual? And misogynistic. And having him treating Elain as little more than a fucking object that he feels entitled to because 'everyone else got one, where's mine?'. What the FUCK???

The more I write it the more angry I get.

Because SJM has consistently put Az in the position of saving women when they were in danger? He was the one who found Mor near death at Autumn. He was the one who rescued Gwyn from her attackers during the war. He was the one to retrieve Elain when she was taken.

She always puts him in this position and, for better or worse, presents him as a safety figure for these women. The first person who they saw come for them, and fight for them, and protect them.

And on the inside she makes him this vile, predatory monster who just thinks constantly about fucking them? Who isn't actually safe at all?? It's sad. And it's infuriating. Because this isn't about ships anymore. This is about female survivors who have an apparent safe person who's presented as almost as dangerous as the people who attacked them in the first place. And that makes me feel so sick and sad that we've gotten here.

It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character.

This is yet another vile thing SJM has done to queer readers with this whole fiasco. Because it puts me in a position where I want to call out her shitty writing, and what she's done to Mor - sidelining her as soon as she became queer. Undermining her power and her strength. Undermining her role as the survivor to look up to. Saying her power is truth but then making her seem like a liar. Which is all shitty, shitty, shitting writing.

But I'm also a queer person. And I will always always ALWAYS want to defend a queer person's right to remain closeted. Regardless of their reasons for doing so. But in this case it's a concern for their safety/a fear of how those around them will react. And I will NEVER condemn that. I will never say Az is suffering more than Mor for her being closeted. I will never call Mor a liar/a manipulator/two-faced when all she's doing is trying to survive.

I WILL condemn SJM for making this a scenario. For putting homophobia in her world purely to cause pain for queer characters, and drama for her straight ones. And for sidelining Mor as soon as she can't write graphic scenes with her fucking men because now she's a lesbian so we best get her off the page so the guys can get their cocks out some more.

And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him.

This is going to sound sarcastic but I actually mean it fully and completely genuinely: 95% of the drama inducing problems in this series could be fixed with some fucking therapy.

But I agree with you. I think it's high time Azriel worked on his own issues. Even if they've apparently made a complete 180 from what they were in ACOMAF.

I...Like the concept of Gwyn/Azriel, but I'm not sold on the ship. Not with the way Maas has been writing Azriel lately. That kind of man shouldn't be with any woman right now. But especially not a rape survivor who sees him as one of the first men she's been able to trust in a long time.

Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

"he used to be a character that made me feel safe" - This shit hit me like a tonne of bricks because this is EXACTLY how I feel about Az, too. You just managed to say it in a few words instead of 12 pages of rambling, like I do.

And I think this was intention. Azriel was presented as a very dependable character. He rescued Mor, and was respectful enough to keep his distance, despite his feelings, for 500 fucking years. Because he didn't think she was ready/interested.

He had a very calm, and calming air about him. Always in control of himself. Without the expected bursts of aggression and temper we'd seen from...Every other male character in this series. He was stable, and solid, and that was comforting. An anchor. And someone who would quietly, and without fuss, seek out Mor/others when they needed someone to talk to or comfort him.

That was a very soothing, reassuring presence in the book, I felt. And now she's made him seem...volatile, and unstable. With this dangerous anger that he can't control, that he uses not to protect, but to intimidate, and to fuel his entitlement and desires.

it's just sad. It's sad that she's taken this away from Mor, but also from other survivors who found comfort and safety in Az. Because I'm sure we weren't alone in that regard.

I miss him. And I mourn the character he was, and feel anger for the character he should have been. but instead he's become yet another possessive, entitled, snarling cardboard cutout dude like...everyone else.

And I ache for the Az/Mor dynamic that we had in ACOMAF. Even without it becoming romantic, there was no reason for that to be destroyed/ruined.

She could have written it that Az is the only one who knows about her sexuality, and that he pretends he's still in love with her as a shield/buffer, so no one looks too closely/to protect her and make her feel comfortable.

Instead she turned it into a soap opera style drama. And wrote it almost as though her sexuality was her cheating on him? Denying him what he deserved. And now she's just...just pussyfooting around it. And apparently he's just. Just moved on. Without them having any kind of conversation or closure at all. He just wanks off to the thought of Elain instead of Mor, now, problem solved /s

I miss what they were. I miss what he was to Mor. I miss when she had that support system, and that safety net. I miss when he protected her. And looked out for her. And understood her in a way that no one else, not even Rhys, did.

Mor deserved that. Azriel deserved that. WE deserved that. And she nuked it for some fucking twisted drama that punishes a lesbian because a man is thirsting after her. it's a fucking disgrace. I'm so fucking done with SJM, y'all. So fucking done.

50 notes · View notes

bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself. And @emkay512 for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world.

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better.

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration.

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along.

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed.

The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole.

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him.

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide.

“NOW, Leo!”

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.” Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace.

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap.

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress.

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags: @sanchita012 @narrytheworld @queenwalton @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

#fools rush in #liam x riley #the royal romance #liam x mc #trr #drake walker #king liam #bbrandy2002 #liam x oc

131 notes · View notes

sleepysailorjunko · 3 years

Text

Arcade wasn't sure what he expected when the Courier asked him to accompany them. They hadn't given a name, only said they were a Courier. It wasn't much to go on, but the Courier had looked up at him with big eyes. And for some reason, it didn't sound all that crazy to venture beyond the fort with them, a natural stanger.

They had listened so reverently when Julie spoke. They had fulfilled any job asked of them by the Followers. Certainly, if they harbored ill will towards the Followers, they would have gotten to their revenge before now.

He had asked for their name, if only to be polite.

"I don't have one. Courier or Six is fine, if you'd like."

"You don't have a name?"

"I guess I probably did once, but I don't remember any more. I just remember the man in the checkered coat- an 18-carat run of bad luck-and then waking up in Doc Mitchell's house. Maybe that man knows who I was. I don't know."

"That doesn't bother you, not having a past?"

"No, not really." The Courier leaned back. "I'm just me. Sure, I can't look back on the road behind me, but I can look forward."

"Interesting. Are you going to look for the man in the checkered coat?"

"I don't know. I guess I could. I'm supposed to, because he stole something from me and shot me in the head."

"Wait, he shot you in the head?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't remember much. It messed with my head too."

"Well, yeah. Getting shot in the head would do that."

"Oh, wait, I do have one hint to who I might have been." The courier starts to undo the many closures of their armor, like a fire's been lit under them. "What do you make of this?"

The Courier drops their armor clumsily on the floor, and then goofily flexes. He doesn't really know what they're refering to, but then he sees the poorly-done tattoo on their upper arm. It's a ring of roses and thorns that raps under their bicep. Despite being very mediocre, it is legible and in color.

"Huh." Tattoos aren't really unique, but it is something. "Maybe your name is Rose?"

"Maybe. It doesn't sound right."

"Maybe you just need to try it out for a while, wear it in." He's trying to help, but the Courier is a near stranger to him. "Or, if you'd like, I could arrange for you to see Dr. Usa-"

"No thanks. Don't want to take up her time." The refusal was off faster than a bullet from a sixgun. "If you're ready to go, so am I."

"Sure." He agreed. It wasn't really healthy of the Courier to act out against the idea of visiting the clinic, but it wasn't something he could force them into. At least, not as a near stranger.

This turned out to be one of the few times the Courier's former-NCR sniper friend wasn't travelling with them. He probably wouldn't have decided to go with the Courier if he had known they had company. Still, it isn't all that bad, even if he feels a little crowded with the Courier, their robot pet ED-E (he hates that thing), the King's robot-dog, the sniper, and the Remnant medical researcher. One more person, and the Courier will have a small army.

Not that the Courier normally has all of them traveling together at once. It's too noticeable, draws too much attention. It might even sound like a joke: an Enclave eyebot, a police cyber dog, an amnesiac Courier, a grouchy NCR sniper, and a medical researcher walk in to a bar...

It makes the Courier happy to travel with him, so he does it on occasion. Those occassions become a lot more frequent after they return from a place they call the "Big Empty".

That had been months ago. Now, he felt like he knew the Courier. Not that he wasn't surprised by the Courier-he certainly was. But he was familiar with the Courier now.

It was a dangerous sort of thing, that familiarity. He was even starting to think that perhaps it would be a good idea to let them in on his own origins.

And he knew how the Courier felt about him.

Leaning against his side while they sat at a fire, the Courier's hands stripping a defeated foe's weapon, they had muttered something.

"Sorry, say again?" Arcade responded. Most of the time, it was just complaints about bent springs or whatever, more to themselves than to him.

The Courier's hands stopped, laying the weapon on the ground.

"You're my brother, Arcade." The Courier says, and then continues before Arcade could interrupt. "Not by blood. Or hell, maybe you are. It's not like I'd remember. Course you are a heck of a lot taller than I am...maybe the tall gene skipped me."

Arcade doesn't say anything, attempting to process what the Courier was trying to tell him.

"No, we're not related by blood." He agrees, although he has no real way to confirm it without knowing the Courier's identity.

"I know." The Courier put their hand up to their chest. "I just...well, I know you're my brother. I, uhh, care about you."

Arcade didn't know what to say about that. It really did feel like it had come out of nowhere to him. A few weeks later, the Courier had gone running off to a place that might have been their home.

Antietam is walking by his side now, but their gaze is drawn over to an old poster. The pre-war store was filled with advertisements for many different products, from Sugar-Bombs to the newest products from Rob-Co.

Shelves, long ransacked and destroyed, have created something of a maze. The laminate tiling on the floor has become loose after centuries of neglect. Decorations littering the area would mark this location as a raider base at some point.

His friend doesn't seem to notice any of that, moving closer to a central display that might have been made of stacked shoeboxes once. Now, the boxes lay in a crumpled heap.

"Antietam, wait-" He says, and the courier stops.

"Yeah? Do you need something?"

"You need to be more careful! This could be a trap."

"I don't think it is. I'm pretty good at finding traps and I don't see any tripwires or bear traps. I've stepped in enough of those."

"Of course you wouldn't see them! It's a mess in here."

"I'm not going far. I just wanna see if I can find some of those."The Courier pointed at an advertisement. It was of a girl with little wheels on her shoes, looking over her shoulder as she spun away. Under the picture, it read "Roll with the punches with Roller-Ray skates!".

"Do you..need those?"

"Well, no. I just think they would be cool. Just rollin around town."

"I'll go with them." Boone added, if only so he could keep an eye on them.

"Yeah, plus ED-E's sensors haven't picked up on anything. I can handle myself while looking for skates, Arcade."

On that note, the Courier and Boone go to pick through the rubble. When they returned, Antietam raised their arm triumphantly.

"We found them! A little dinged up, but I can fix that. C'mon, lets go outside to try them!" With the hand not holding their skates, Antietam grabbed at Arcade's sleeve.

"Okay, okay." He said, because Antietam's enthusiasm for things was infectious sometimes. They exited the store, entering that had once been a parking lot. Rusted-through cars sat abandoned and the sun hung low in the sky.

Antietam dropped to the floor, strapping on their skates. They were metal and fit awkwardly with their combat boots and spurs. Awkwardly, like a baby radstag on ice, the Courier stood up.

"Okay,so I just." The Courier lifted one leg as if to take a step. Their balance was offset by the movement. Next to him, Arcade saw Boone move to catch the Courier if they fell, but the Courier braced themselves on a car instead.

They took a few more awkward steps.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of this." Their movements were jerky, but in time, perhaps they'd be alright at it.

Then they hit a skid in the destroyed asphalt and took a spill. Their left side collided hard with a rusted shell.

"Ouch." they groaned, and then collapsed onto the parking lot. "I'm just gonna rest here for a second."

Arcade laughed a little, and then helpfully whined about the sun.

"Alright, alright. Okay, getting up." The Courier pushed up from the asphalt with both hands, rising from their crumpled mass.

"Nothing broken?" Arcade asked, seeing Antietam avoid putting too much weight on their left side.

"No, probably just bruised." They replied, but that was what Arcade had expected. They were still extremely hesitant to be medically examined, even if it meant concealing and ignoring injuries. It stung Arcade-someone who the Courier allegedly loved like a brother-to be held at arms' length. That being said, he couldn't be upset with them either. The Courier had suffered greatly and been stripped of agency by doctors. It was a mark of pride that Antietam trusted him.

Actually, he could still be angry with them for concealing injuries.

The sun was beating down as steadily as it always did in the Mojave. A bead of sweat formed on Arcade's neck.

"Oh shoot." The Courier murmured, looking over their hands. They wore fingerless gloves, and a pip-boy on one arm. Arcade examined the injury. It would be a lot of work if the Courier came down with tetnus. "It's just a scrape, Arcade."

"It's not just a scrape. It's dirty and could get infected."

"Hottest part of the days coming up. We should wait it out in the store." Boone added, helpfully.

"C'mon, listen to your big brother, ok?" Arcade tried with a smile. The Courier looked up at him with their wide brown eyes.

Arcade was not above emotional manipulation.

Half a year ago, if someone told him that he was going to play big brother to a Courier who knew nothing about their past and hated doctors, he'd have likely sent them to see Dr. Usanagi.

The Courier ran their gloved hand through their short white hair. It fluffed up their bangs (despite the pin staying in place) and revealed the twin scars on their forehead and the surgical scar that ran around their skull.

"Okay." The Courier responded, sticking their wrist out to him for treatment.

"Oh, that's a nasty cut." he said, "Let's head inside so we can get this treated.:

In the end, even if the Courier was a hassle sometimes, he was glad to be their brother. He was turning into such a sap.

#arcade gannon #courier antietam #fallout new vegas #fnv #ED-E #craig boone #roller skates

34 notes · View notes

abruisedmuse · 4 years

Text

This is based off a post from @nestaarcher0n. @thewayshedreamed you replied asking for it too so here ya go!

I wrote this drunk and I'm on mobile. So any errors are my fault. Enjoy!

Cassian sat on an elongated chaise that curved with the alcove within the massive library. Sunlight beaming through the high windows, casting a soft glow in the silent space. Nesta laid out on the velveteen chaise with him. Her head resting in his lap. One wing hanging over the side, the other hovering slightly above her. Blocking out sun rays, so she could read easier.

Since being sent off to the Illyrian camps, this was the first time either had returned to Velaris. Rhysand had a matter to discuss with Cassian, which had to be explained. The High Lord and Lady of the night court had news for Nesta. In the letter, Feyre stated it was news needed to be told face to face.

Now here they waited. Nerves rippling through Nesta like an underwater current treating to drag her down, down, down. Reading became difficult. Cauldron breathing felt difficult at the moment. Knowing in a few minutes her sister would show. No sisters and most likely the Inner Circle. For Cassian though, not Nesta. Never Nesta. She couldn't decide what was worse. The awkward reunion or Cassian, her mate, reuniting with them.

The aching thought of seeing him happy with them and leaving her alone in this library. Only surrounded by rows upon rows of tomes and books. It reminded her of last Winter Solstice when he stepped away from Nesta to see Mor. How he paid the oldest Archeron no mind until she left. Nesta's chest felt heavy at past images in her mind. A vile churning in her gut thinking of him smiling and laughing at Mor. She tried to swallow the fire of rage building within. True they were friends, but Nesta and Cassian were mates. Nesta repeated it in her head, it did nothing to quell how she felt.

"Cassian, do that thing," she requested. Settling her book. Meeting the tender gaze of hazel eyes.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that sweetheart," he teased, "You like a lot of things I do. Several of them I'm not sure we have the time for," he winked down at her.

"You're a prick," Nesta picked up her book. Playfully slapping him in the arm.

He only laughed. The sound light and airy, like a soothing lullaby to her very soul.

"And yet you cooked for me and accepted the bond," Nesta glared at him. Cassian only smiled at her. The one that made his cheeks rise and hers blush as red as his siphon, "What the thing do you want?"

"Play with my hair, unbraid it."

"Say please."

Nesta rolled those stormy blues, "please," she said through gritted teeth.

He smiled again, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on her forehead. As he expertly worked his fingers through the put together braid, she did that morning. His hands undid her coiled style, strand by strand. Battle worn fingers ran through her silken tresses, like the first soft fall of snow. Cassian massaged deep into her roots. Nesta closed her eyes as she hummed her contentment.

"I know you're nervous-"

"I'm not," she argued back, fixing him a pointed look.

"Nes, I'm your mate, in case you've forgotten, I can tell. Besides you kept your book on the two same pages since we sat down," he spoke with care and love in his tone. Continuing to brush her hair with his fingers.

Her only response was a deep-seated sigh. Damn him for knowing her so well. Too well in fact.

"We both know the last time you were here. Things...well, they weren't great. But you've grown and began to heal," he let out a breath before continuing, "You are the most important thing to me. At any point, you want to leave just say so. This is a big step. No one will blame you if you need to go."

She chewed her bottom lip. Meeting his warm, protective gaze. Swirls of amber, green and flecks of gold, like that of the finest jewels she'd ever seen.

"What if they don't?" Her tone was harsher than intended. If he caught it, Cassian didn't seem to mind it.

He only continued to stroke her hair, reaching down to softly kiss her crimson lips, "Then I'll handle it."

Both of them were too preoccupied gazing at the other, to smell or hear the oncoming of all the footsteps moving throughout the library. Until they heard a whistle. Nesta froze in her position. Sure she planned to get through this day. Being caught in such an intimate way wasn't something she planned. To Cassian’s credit, he did not move. Only shifted the hand in her hand.

"Well this is surprising," Mor commented looking at the two of them. Her expression remained unreadable until Amren pushed between everyone. The Morrigan whipped her head at the smaller woman.

"It's not surprising. If you had eyes girl," Amren walked to a bookshelf, grabbing a tome half her size with ease. She looked over at Cassian and Nesta, "Took you two long enough," with that she was gone mumbling about longing.

Nesta and Amren had yet to mend the relationship. If that fierce woman acted the way she used to around Nesta. Perhaps they could repair the friendship.

Elain pushed past Mor running to her sister. Azriel standing in the shadows watching the seer as she wrapped her arms around Nesta. He said nothing, only giving Cassian an approving nod. Nesta squeezed her sister against herself. Taking in the floral scent that was naturally Elain. Elain noticed how healthy her older sister looked. Gone were the sunken eyes, sallow skin, and frail body. Nesta was glowing. Her eyes bright like ocean waters touched by sunlight. She regained a healthy weight. Honeyed hair was no longer brittle. Voluminous and full of life as it fell past her shoulders.

Elain pressed a kiss to her sister's cheek, "I've missed you. I saw you in my visions. You're happy now."

Nesta spared a glance at Cassian, "Yeah, I am," returning her attention to Elain," I've missed you."

Elain smiled bright and warm, moving to Cassian. Kissing his cheek as well, "Thank you for saving her when she needed it most."

"You're welcome, but she saved herself. I only held her hand," he replied still running fingers through her hair stopping occasionally to rub the pads of his thumbs into her scalp.

"Still. Being there and," Elain motioned to his movements, "loving her. It helped in ways you couldn't imagine. I'm glad you're her mate," she chuckled at Cassian’s shocked expression, "Seer remember. I had the vision."

Rhysand and Feyre approached behind Elain. Nesta felt her heart race watching them. The shouting between the three before she left was less than civil. She had been dreading this reunion since the day she left. Sitting up next to Cassian, his hands left her finger-combed strands. Opting to slip between her fingers. Offering a reassuring squeeze, which Nesta returned. One of Cassian’s wings rested around his mate. Acting as a security blanket of sorts.

"Hey, Rhysie, " Cassian said, flashing a charming grin. Keeping his thumb running ministrations over Nesta's knuckles.

"Brother," he commented in greeting, "I would say I'm surprised just as Mor. However, Elain told us of the vision. So we knew and we're happy," Rhysand turned his attention to Nesta offering a genuine smile, "The both of you. We can talk over lunch. For now, Feyre has something to say."

Feyre approached, with a gown Nesta noticed was far looser than what she usually wore. Nesta recognized the same time as Cassian that her sister's scent was different. Feyre first hugged Cassian, thanking him in the process. Before sitting on the Lush violet chaise next to Nesta.

"Nesta I'm sorry for sending you away how I did. I didn't know what to do. I worried for you," she reached for the hand unoccupied by Cassian, " Rhys and I arranged a private lunch for us four to talk. If you don't want to…" Feyre trailed off.

"Is that the news?" Nesta questioned in a challenging tone, "Lunchtime?"

Rhys tensed behind Feyre. Cassian shot him a warning glance. A silent speech telling him to be patient and wait. Meanwhile, Feyre laughed shaking her head, "No. It's not. Nesta, I'm with child."

Nesta blinked several times, her voice rising in pitch, "I'm going to be an aunt?"

Feyre nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Rhys nodded to Cassian, who kissed the top of Nesta's head, before following. Azriel and Mor trailed behind them. Leaving the sisters alone to catch up. It was Nesta initiating the hug with her sisters. Emirisissing herself in the solidarity of them. She looked from the corner of her eye as Rhysand clamped a hand on her mate's shoulder saying, "Archerons huh?"

To which Cassian chuckled, turning back at Nesta. For once, since becoming fae, Nesta felt assured that things were looking up.

Taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @hizqueen4life @clockworkgraystairs @b00kworm @negativenesta @sjm-things @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @ireallyshouldsleeprn @forbiddencorvidae @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @aknymph @alittledribbledrabble @iminsanenotobsessed @figuredihadanodustollensofalife @df3ndyr @awkward-avocado-s @maastrash @knifewifejude @st00pid231 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @gisellefigue08 @se-ono-waise-ilia @ladywitchling @strangeenemy @the-girl-who-reads-books @piratejudedemdji @junipersuns

want to be on my taglist? let me know!

242 notes · View notes

love-fireflysong · 3 years

Text

Oh my god, I'm so sorry that this one took so long holy shit. I have no excuses, other than the fact that I'm a terrible person who can't be trusted with deadlines it seems. But it is done! Yay! So, as successfully chosen by Miss '@clumsybookworm18' Mel, here's my entry for hurt/comfort (finally). This is actually the beginning part of a sole survivor chris/ash au I've been imagining for over a year now, and will very likely be the only part of that au I will ever share. That au is for me. And me alone, sorry lol.

Can't Undo the Scars can be read over on AO3 of course (and I would recommend it if only for the snazzy looking texting lol) but it is also under the link as usual.

Can't Undo the Scars

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 9749 Rating: Teen (mentions of past trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, separation anxiety, nightmares that involve death) Author's Notes: Will I ever be happy with this fic? No but I'm as content with what I got as I ever will be. What Chris and Ash are doing to try and get back to 'normal' is so stupidly not healthy for either of them, but they are young kids that just want to try and move on with their lives. So be nice to them (and me obviously lol).

"I think we should take a break."

Sitting across from Ashley at the table in the quiet cafe where they had gotten coffee together, Chris fumbled with the sugar cube he had grabbed. It bounced off the small table and tumbled to the floor, not that he was paying any attention to it anymore. Not when it felt like all his blood had frozen in his veins. Still, hoping and praying that he was misunderstanding what Ashley was trying to get at, he let out a forced little laugh. "...like a KitKat? Oh man, when was the last time I had one of those? Must have been ages ago, you're totally right we should go and grab a bar or two after this. A little snack and treat we both totally deserve and I'll break us off a piece of that—"

Chris let everything else he was about to say trail off when Ashley pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head fiercely as she refused to look at him. The loose sleeves of the sweater she was wearing were pulled far down enough that only the tips of her fingers were poking out, and those tightened around the mug of coffee she was holding onto. "No, I-I mean, I think we need to take a break from each other. At least for a little bit."

Forget his blood freezing, Chris felt everything around him freeze. His breath froze in his lungs, his heart froze in his chest, and time seemed to freeze around him. "Ash, are-are you," Chris swallowed roughly as he tried to keep himself together, "are you breaking up with me?"

Immediately Ashley's eyes snapped up to meet his, and they were wide with the same fear that Chris was pretty sure had replaced all the blood in his body. "No! No, that's-that's not what I'm doing! That's not what I want at all!" Her hands left the mug she had been gripping on the table and reached out to take Chris's, but hesitated and pulled back at the last second. "Why? Do you want to...?"

Chris closed the distance between their hands and grabbed hers in his, but was careful not to touch her wrists. He was more relieved than he had imagined it was possible to feel (and he had felt some pretty intense feelings of relief in the last half a year) when she responded by immediately turning her hands over so she could curl her fingers into his. "I don't! I can't think of a single thing in the world I want to do less than that."

The jerky nod that Ashley gave in agreement should have left him feeling better, but it didn't. "Good. So we're not br— not gonna do that then."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Glad we're in agreement. But then, what did you mean by that, Ash? That we should..." Chris couldn't even bring himself to say the words, instead letting them die in his throat when Ashley slowly withdrew her hands from his and placed them back around her quickly cooling mug.

"It's just, this isn't healthy Chris. This can't be healthy for either of us."

"Healthy? What isn't healthy? This much coffee? The amount of sugar I put in my cup every morning? Is the amount of sugar I use turning you off Ash? Cause I don't think I can fix that sorry."

She didn't smile at that, not even a hint. No faint tugging at the corners of her mouth, no sigh of exasperation, nothing. And it was then that he knew that whatever this was all about, she was as serious as he'd ever seen her, and that terrified him.

"This, Chris. None of this. The fact that neither of us can sleep alone. That I'm terrified that the moment you leave my sight I'll never see you again. I hate that it feels like neither of us can go out in public unless we're both there."

"Oh. That. Yeah, I-I can see how that might be a problem. But Ash, it wasn't—it's not as if it's our fault. We're just trying to heal, I mean that's what all the doctors keep telling us at least. And if this is what it takes, then what's so wrong about that?"

Ashley looked up at him again, and while he wasn't shocked at the dark circles around her eyes (they were identical to the ones around his after all), the tears that had started to build up in the corners of them had him reaching over the table so he could take her face into his hands. Her hands cover his a second later, but not pull them away like he feared, instead she curls her fingers into the palms of his hands so she can hold him there. The two of them lean over the table to meet in the middle, likely looking like a romantic embrace shared by lovers in the corner to anyone looking on, but this is anything but. "But it's been months Chris," she starts and he wipes away the first tear that threatens to fall before it ever gets the chance to, "since, since..."

Since Blackwood, he finishes for her in his head, it's been months since Blackwood and it still feels like we're no better than when we first came down. And it has been, Blackwood had been nearly six months ago now and the two of them still jumped and grabbed for each other at what seemed like every little thing. A loud bang, even from something as small and normal as a car backfiring down the street, always sent Chris back into that room in the basement, watching as Mike aimed that gun at Emily. The sound of a glass cup shattering as it hit the floor would have Ashley locking up in fear, her grip on Chris's hand tightening to a point far beyond pain.

That first week of July had been terrible for them both. The smart thing to do would have been to get as far out of town as possible, but that would have left them basically stranded in the wilderness; surrounded by trees on all sides as they jumped at every little sound and animal call, wondering if it was yet another one of those creatures from the mountain trying to finish them off. Instead they had elected to stay home, cowering together in Chris's basement as the fireworks going off with loud pops and bangs from nearly every house in the area had managed to cut through their earplugs and send them both into a tailspin. Remembering every bullet that Chris had shot into the Wendigo that had chased him from the shed, none doing any damage at all except to push it back further and further from him. Remembering the sound as the lodge exploded into a ball of fire, leaving them to sit cold and alone in the snow as their ears continued to ring and ring. The coolness of the basement had done little against the summer heat either, reminding them too much of the heat from the burning lodge that had threatened to cook them both from the inside out.

July had almost been worse than February, and nothing would ever top those two days in February.

He's not worried about the scene the two of them are making in the cafe though. The table they had chosen—had been using since they discovered this beautifully quiet and peaceful cafe back when they had both finally worked up the nerve to leave their houses back in May—was in a secluded corner with no windows. It was a defensible position (or at least as defensible as a table in a public cafe could be) and as long as they stayed quiet then no one would pay any attention to them. Not when the other patrons were too busy chatting with their friends or typing away on a computer. And the employees? They had more to worry about then two nerdy regulars who for all appearances looked like they were having a romantic and private conversation.

"Can you at least just tell me why?" Chris whispers, his words choked as he continues to wipe away her tears. "Why now? What happened to make you think that we need a—" his m0uth moves but nothing comes out until he finally manages to force the word past the blockade in his throat "—a break."

Ashley leans into one of his palms and smiles at him sadly. "I know we both decided that we were gonna try and start school again in the winter semester, and that our admissions had already been accepted, so I was looking at dorm availabilities when you had fallen asleep last week. They only have a few single dorms and those are available only for married students. Which is fine, it's way too small to room two people at once for durations longer than a weekend. But it also turns out that there is no option for co-ed dorms, the school doesn't allow them. No exceptions."

"What? But, surely they must—"

She shakes her head. "No exceptions, they were very clear on that. I don't know how many times me or my mom or any of the doctors emailed them to try and explain the circumstances, but the response back was always the same. They 'feel sorry and understand how difficult this must be for us' but no exceptions means no exceptions. We either agree to separate dorms with roommates of the same gender or we have to find another set of lodgings."

"But that's...that's bullshit! So the thought of a boy and girl sharing a room apparently goes so far against their-their—what, good Christian values?—that giving our poor roommates nightmares while we scream ourselves to sleep is an acceptable alternative?!"

Ashley turns her head so she can leave a chaste kiss in the center of Chris's palm in an effort to calm him down, and decides to just stay and murmur her next words there. "I hate it too, but what other alternative is there? You know we can't get a place together, there's no possible way we could afford the rent for one."

"We can...we can..." Chris tries to find something, anything, he can say to make this not happen. "I can find a job, work and go to school or—"

"And we arrive back to the same problem, Chris. If we can't survive a separation at school, how are we supposed to do it when we're both out working as well, just so we can stay together. I don't want to do this anymore then you do Chris; I really really don't. You have no idea how much I don't want to do this, but we have to get used to not being able to see each other all the time. And I would rather do it on our terms then because the school or our roommates decided we can't."

Ashley's right, of course Ashley's right. It's Ashley Brown after all, she's always right, but he doesn't want her to be. Not about this. "Okay," he agrees instead, even as it feels like saying the word is stealing something away that he can't quite name. He hides this by lowering her head so he can place his lips on her forehead and say the words there instead. "Okay. Just-just tell me how long."

"A week." Chris feels something in his stomach turn into stone and sink to the bottom of his gut. He had been hoping for something like a day or two, not a full week. He isn't sure he can survive seven days without seeing her. "I-I thought long and hard about it, but a week. We're gonna have periods anyways where we won't be able to see each other because of exams or projects, so if we can manage a whole week then we can do those no problem."

"Are you sure that maybe we shouldn't, I don’t know, just build up to that? A day here, two days there, just so we can get used to it?"

Ashley shakes her head firmly enough that it jostles Chris's hands right off of her face, but keeps her hands in his anyways. "No. I want to get this over with. Prove to everyone, to ourselves, that we can do something as simple as this. I mean, we used to go periods all the time when we didn't see each other for ages, so what's so different about this?"

"Everything", Chris wants to say, "Everything's different now. It changed the moment we left that mountain behind." But he doesn't. He doesn't because he wants her to be right, that this is just a minor hiccup and if they can overcome this, then they can overcome anything. So with one last squeeze of her hands and a pained smile, he lets go and takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces at the taste. It's cold now, had probably gone cold a long time ago and he can tell from the shared frown on Ashley's face that hers has gone cold too.

With no reason for either of them to stay here now, they had only brought enough money for a single coffee each, it's pretty clear that their little coffee date is over. Neither of them say a word as they clean up their table and leave the cafe, their fingers intertwined as they usually are nowadays, but holding on tighter than usual. They separate only so they can get into Chris's truck, but the moment they settle into their seats, their hands find each other once again. And that's how Chris drives Ashley back to her mother's, hands gripping so tightly that they're fingers have turned white and not saying a single word the entire drive back. They never mentioned it, but neither of them have to. The moment they arrive at her place, then this is it. This will be the last time they're gonna see each other for an entire week, and the moment one of them speaks then any and all willpower they have to pull this off is going to be gone and they'll be back at where they started. They need to do this, even if neither of them want to.

It isn't until Chris pulls up in front and watches her let go of his hand to take off her seatbelt that it actually hits him. For the first time in six months, he's not going to be following her in. That he's going to continue the drive back to his own house alone. The realization shudders through him and he quickly finds himself fumbling at his own seatbelt clasp, and the moment he's free he's surging across the divide between them and taking Ashley's face in his hands as he kisses her like he's never going to be able to again. She doesn't hesitate to return the embrace either, throwing her arms around him and gripping onto him as though she never wants to let him go.

They spend what is probably far too long delaying the separation, but inevitably they do separate. And when they look at each other it's with tears in their eyes and their foreheads pressed so firmly together it's almost like they're trying to become one person.

"Just seven days, right? And that's it, we'll never have to do this again? You promise?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, she just nods and leans in for one last kiss, as though trying to memorize it and him for the coming week. And when she does pull away to leave, it's with her arms slowly untwining themselves from around Chris's neck, and then letting her fingers trail lightly over his shoulders, down his arms, and past his hands. Though she is stopped when Chris curls his fingers so that they catch on his, and doesn’t fight it as she watches wordlessly as he lifts them in front of his face and carefully lets the loose sleeves of her sweater drop so he can see the faint scars on her wrist that were left when the rope burns had healed. And as always, he makes no comment as softly places a kiss into the center of each wrist, followed by the palm, and then the tip of each finger, finally closing his eyes as he presses the back of her knuckles to his lips and holding her hands there. Just to remind himself that she was still here, that she hadn't died on Blackwood Mountain with all the rest.

He drops her hands when she pulls them back, but doesn't open his eyes when he feels her shaky fingers carefully remove his glasses and place them on the dashboard before returning her hands to his face in order to complete their little ritual. Gently, she traces the contours of his face with the pads of her thumbs, brushing them over his eyes, his nose, his lips, and following each with a soft kiss to the body part in question. Finishing as she always does by placing her lips in a closed mouth kiss to the area where his jaw and neck meet, and lingering just long enough so she can feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin. The minor burn from where he had once held the gun to his jaw had faded a long time ago, but he doesn't think that either will ever forget exactly where it used to be. And when she leans back, the usual expressions of relief and awe are hidden so far underneath the absolute heartbreak that they may as well not even exist. "I—" he starts, but stops just as quickly. It's far too overdue, but the timing isn't right. "I guess I'll see you next week then."

Ashley looks like she has something she wants to say, but instead reaches out to put Chris's glasses back on his face with shaking hands and as she opens the passenger door and gets out of the vehicle, she gives a weak smile. "Yeah, I...I'll see you then."

Chris just watches as she walks up to the building, gripping onto the steering wheel as hard as possible in an effort to hold himself back from trying to follow her into the building like every fibre of his being is screaming at him to do. And after sharing one last shaky and teary eyed smile from the top of the steps, Ashley unlocks the door and enters, leaving his sight for what feels like both the first time in forever, and the final time he'll ever get to see her.

He rushes the rest of the way home, and the moment he gets back he just about runs to his bedroom and hides under the covers of his bed, ignoring both the surprised greeting his mother sends his way and the inquiry about where Ashley is. He just wants to sleep.

The week will be over quicker that way.

***

By the end of the first day Ashley is ready to scream. Not because she misses Chris horribly (she does), or because waking up without Chris at her side had sent her into near hysterics (it did). She had expected these things after all, they were all things that she had to get used to again, he wasn't always going to be there with her after all. It still hurt—good god did it hurt—but all in all, it wasn't going terribly for the first day. She'd had no nightmares thankfully, and had spent most of the day reading, with some minor tidying up in her room and helping her mother around the house.

Oh no, the reason she was about to scream was her mother in question. Who after finding out why exactly Chris hadn't come home with her yesterday, and never made an appearance later on in the evening just before bed, had been frantic. Saundra wasn't angry, she didn't scream or yell or try to do anything that might set her daughter off, but she was being horribly insistent that maybe Ashely and Chris should have thought this through more. Asking why Ashley had never brought this up to her, and if she even mentioned that they were doing this to their doctors. She hadn't of course, because Ashley was fully aware that they would have done almost everything in their power to try and talk them out of it, telling them that the two of them weren't ready for separation of his magnitude yet. And of course neither of them were ready for this—they likely never would be—but it needed to be done if her and Chris had any hope of even trying to return to a normal lifestyle in time for them to return to college in January.

And, well, she was terrified about what would happen to them if they didn't. Sure it was deemed 'healthy' for now, as they tried and struggled to recover from what everyone around them said was a horribly traumatic series of events. But what about when it wasn't simply seen as healthy and therapeutic, but harmful and co-dependant? Ashley loved Chris, even if neither of them had said the words yet she felt it in her entire being everytime she looked at him, and the idea that one day they might grow to hate or resent each other for being unable to let go was too much. And so the completely necessary trial separation came into being. If they could prove that they could successfully be apart for something as short as a week, then this wasn't codependency in the making, it was healing pure and simple.

Now she just had to convince herself of that.

***

By early morning of the second day, Chris had finally admitted to himself what he had figured out a few short hours into his self-exiled bedrest: sleeping the week away when he had been finding it hard to sleep in general for months now was quite frankly going to be impossible. And so he had with great reluctance rolled himself out of his far too empty bed and into the shower, passing his own mother talking in hushed voices on the phone. Voices that quickly stopped the moment Lilith realized that her son was finally up and moving again, and then immediately confronting him afterwards and pleading that he tell her that nothing bad had happened between him and Ash. He weakly assures that everything's fine between them (it's not, everything is not fine, it won't be fine until she's by his side again), and that he'll talk to her after. The only thing he wants right now is a hot shower. Lilith lets him go reluctantly, but Chris is also very aware that the moment he steps foot into the bathroom, that she's going to be back on the phone with Saundra speaking in hushed and worried whispers.

The rest of the morning passes by in a haze of motherly questions—mixed with the occasional fatherly one every now and again just for spice—and a large breakfast that tastes and feels like ash in his mouth, and it bleeds into the afternoon, and then into the evening. Which finds Chris both bored out of his mind and desperate for a distraction as he digs through a pile of video games to try and find something to play. But everything he finds was either given to him by Ash, or ones the two of them had played together (if not both), so he abandons his search and instead finds himself out in the garage digging through dusty and broken down boxes until he finds the old playstation and games that his parents had gotten for him before he had ever met Ashley or...or...

Well, the point was he had a game now that carried no memories of anyone or anything except being six and terrible at video games. It does nothing to wipe away the loneliness and despair that covers him like a heavy blanket, but it's a start. An extremely stalled start to a race he wants nothing to do with, but a start nonetheless.

***

On day three, Ashley is starting to think that maybe her mom had been right and that this was such a stupid idea. Last night was especially bad. No matter how many blankets she had piled on her bed, no matter how many childhood stuffed animals she had shoved back on to fill up the empty space, none of it had helped. She had never felt so cold in her life and all the open space on the bed had made her feel like she was going to be swallowed up into the emptiness. In desperation she had started ripping the drawers from her dresser and throwing clothes from her closet, frantically holding back burning tears of frustration and the scream building up in her throat.

And then she found it. One of Chris's sweaters shoved half-hazardly away into a dark corner of her room under the bed, and had been forgotten about by the both of them until now. The immediacy with which she had fumbled to grab the thing and throw it on probably would have frightened her any other day, but with the tears finally flowing hot and heavy down her cheeks as she buried her face into the dark fibres, all she could feel was bone-crushing relief settling over her. Her room a mess she could deal with in the morning, Ashley had crawled into bed hugging herself and the sweater as close as she physically was able. She wasn't cold anymore, and the bed felt less empty too.

As long as she had a reminder that Chris was still alive, that she could still smell him even on this dusty and long-forgotten piece of clothing, then even if he wasn't physically here with her she could manage. And she would manage, she would. They were already halfway through the week after all, and she would prove to everyone—to herself—that they (she) could do this.

Ashley wears the sweater all the rest of the day once she wakes up.

***

In true Chris Hartley fashion, day four finds himself absolutely glued to the screen of his phone. Shortly after forcing down a small breakfast in an attempt to alleviate his worried parents' concern, he had spent what was probably a far too long amount of time in his text messages just staring at Ash's name. His thumbs hovering nervously over the keyboard as he fought with himself over and over again, debating if texting Ashley would be okay. Yes, the two of them had agreed that this 'break' (he hates the word, hates it hates it hates it with every fibre of his being) was needed if they wanted to try and get themselves ready for the separation that college life would inevitably bring, but that was to try and prepare themselves for not being able to see each other for long periods of time. They wouldn't be able to see each other during classes or during periods of intense studying and working on projects, but they would still be able to talk. Hell, his entire first year of college while she was still in high school had been just that. They hadn't been able to hang out in weeks, but they had still texted all the time.

So biting the bullet, Chris had gone ahead and texted Ash a quick and easy 'hey'. No 'miss you', no 'this was a terrible idea', no ' i wish you were here right now'. Just a simple 'hey' and then he stared at his phone, face pale and hands shaking as he waited to see what she would do. He didn't care if she would just send back a scathing reply about how he was breaking the rules by doing this, he just needed her to respond and reassure him that she was alright. That she was still alive and his insecurities were getting the best of him.

The phone rumbling softly in his hand was a godsend, and so too was the affirmative 'hi :)' that she had responded with. After that, it was as though the floodgates had opened. The two of them texted each other back and forth the entire rest of the day, her telling him about the books she had been reading as he told her about his adventures through late 90's and early 2000's gaming. They told each other what they had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They talked about everything and nothing and it was so blissfully normal that Chris wondered why on earth it had taken him this long to text her in the first place. He thinks that he was so used to just having her there with him all the time, that the idea that they could still text hadn't even crossed his mind.

There are things he doesn't tell her of course. That the idea of falling asleep without knowing she's next to him and safe is so ludicrous that he had stopped trying, only sleeping in small, unintended fits that leave him feeling even worse than before. That despite at least continuing to eat, the food tastes like nothing and he can only manage a few bites before excusing himself. And what little he does eat almost always manages to come back up during the night, though thankfully when his parents are both sleeping (he doesn't want them to worry more than they already are). Chris doesn't want to worry Ashley, not when it seems like she's managing this whole seven-day long affair better than he is so far. If she can do this, then so can he.

So no matter how many times his thumb hovers over the call icon in the corner, he does not press it. Texting will have to be enough, he knows that the moment he hears her voice then every single shred of resolution he has built up will crumble in seconds and he'll be driving as fast as he can so he can see her again. And they're already four days deep into their seven days, the last thing he wants is for Ashley to decide that they need to start all this over from the top again.

***

Ashley is comfortable in her bed, more comfortable than she's ever felt in her life honestly. Chris's arm is draped heavily over her waist, and his breath is warm on the back of her neck as he peacefully naps the afternoon away. His body is solid against her back and she feels so, so safe and so, so loved as she continues to read her book, a favourite of hers that she had read cover to cover a million times but always felt like coming home in its warm familiarity. Contentedly, she flips a page and snuggles back further into Chris's body and she feels something warm and wet drip onto her neck.

"Chriiiiiiis," she groans, but not without an edge of laughter, "wake up. You're drooling on me, you dip." He doesn't move, and Ashley repositions herself a little, made difficult by the weight of his arm over her, and jabs her elbow into his gut. "I'm serious you dork, wake up. I swear to god, you sleep like the de—" The words die in her throat in horror when she turns her head to face him.

His head isn't there. Nothing is there. Just dark blood pouring hot and heavy from the open space above his neck, staining the fur lining his coat and the once clean, white snow as the blizzard rages around her. Desperate to prove that this isn't real, that it can't be real, she fumbles for the hand that hangs limp at her waist and threads her fingers through his, but his fingers are cold to the touch and black with frostbite, and no matter how hard she squeezes he isn't squeezing back. She's fully aware that she's openly crying and sobbing as she repeats his name over and over, begging him to wake up and tell her that this isn't real. Her tears are freezing on her cheeks the moment they fall.

From deep within the treeline, a high-pitched shriek that rattles the teeth in her mouth echoes long and loud around the wide, open snow-covered space.

Cries and nausea alike stick in her throat as she tries frantically to wiggle out from Chris's body, but his arm is a dead weight that keeps her pinned in place against him. "C'mon, Chris. We need to go. We need to hide. Get up, please please please get up."

There's a soft thump of a large body landing in the snow far off to the right, unseen but not unheard, and she freezes in place. Hoping and praying that the thing won't see them as she huddles in closer to the protection that Chris's body is offering, her blood stained fingers tightening painfully on his limp hand and around the leather bound journal she is still holding in her other. In fear she buries her face into the snow beneath her, the cold biting at her skin and the metallic taste of Chris's spilt blood filling her mouth and nose. For a moment, there's nothing. No sound except for the wind whistling through the trees as the snow whips wildly around them.

And then Chris is gone. The comforting and yet horrifying weight he had been is just gone as he's suddenly flung through the air and colliding into a tree with a sickening crunch. Her hand had been gripping onto his so fiercely and so tightly that she had been pulled with him for just a second before his hand had been violently ripped out of her grasp. Leaving Ashley to stare wide-eyed and terrified into the face of the thing—its body too long and spindly with far too many sharp angles to be considered human—standing above her as she lays on her back. Milky-white eyes gaze back down unseeingly at her and Chris's blood is dripping from sharp, deadly claws that splatter onto her face. The thing opens its mouth to showcase row upon row of crooked and yellowed razor-sharp teeth and it screams at her, spittle flying into Ashley's face as her ears ring and ring and ring.

Too scared to cry, too scared to move, Ashley just wishes that Chris was still here with her and not lying broken and mangled and headless at the foot of a tree as he continues to slowly bleed out into the crisp white snow. A small little whimper, barely louder than the whisper of wind blowing through grass and certainly going unheard in this howling blizzard, escapes past her lips but it's enough. In a flash, the same deadly claws are raking towards her face to rip her head off in the same way it had to Chris.

And Ashley screams.

She screams and screams and screams, and screams only louder when a pair of hands cradle her face and a voice begs and pleads with her to wake up. Ashley tries to fight back against the hands and the voice, screaming for Chris to wake up and help her, but her own words keep getting caught on the blood that is bubbling out of her mouth. There's another scream, this one not her own, and then the hands have moved to try and open her mouth but she won't let them. She doesn't want her jaw ripped off like what had happened to poor Jess. Like what she had seen in the pictures that the rangers had shown her and Chris so they could identify the half naked body discovered in the mines. So she fights back even harder, trying to claw at the person or thing that killed Chris and Jess and everyone else. And then there's a cry of pain, and the hands on her face have vanished, appearing around her wrists so they could try and hold her panicked flailing back.

The moment the hands appear on her wrists, Ashley's eyes fly open and she can't breathe. She can't breathe because she's hanging in the shed, the wood cold against her back as saws whir menacingly both in front and above her as Josh hangs limpy next to her. The lower half of his body an impossible mess on the floor and the grey intestines that had managed to stay in his upper half hanging down towards it like grotesque party streamers. From behind the steel chain link fence that partitions the room, Chris stands looking straight at her as he holds a gun to his jaw, his face pale as he smiles shakily at her and pulls the trigger.

Somehow, the scream that finally manages to break through is louder than all the rest.

There's more begging and pleading that she can't make out against the loud mechanical whir of the saws. And then a phone chimes, only just managing to cut through all the screaming and whirring and echoes of gunshots. And then it chimes again, louder this time. And again. And again. And she realizes that she recognizes it, it's the ringtone that Chris had set on her phone for his contact ages and ages ago as a joke, and she had just kept forgetting to change it back until it just became his notification, joke or not.

Slowly, the shed fades away until all she's left seeing is her mother standing in her brightly lit bedroom, screaming at someone through her phone. But all Ashley is paying attention to is the repeated chimes going off constantly on her phone one after another, the screen never getting the chance to go dark before another text comes in, and Chris's name appearing for every single one.

Saundra seems to notice that her daughter has finally stopped screaming, and although she continues to plead with whoever it is on the phone with her, she reaches out a hesitant and unsure hand. Ashley notices none of this as blood continues to dribble slowly out of her mouth as she picks up and unlocks her phone.

***

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong and it isn't the fact that Chris is kneeling over the toilet as he retches into it for the second time tonight. Oh no, the something wrong is due to the fact that despite it being past midnight he can hear his mom trying frantically to calm someone down on the phone. It was the phone ringing that had woken him up in fact from where he had accidentally dozed off on the couch, waking up to find the old playstation controller hanging loose in his fingers and Crash idly spinning a piece of wumpa fruit on his finger in all his polygonal glory. Chris had dropped the controller the rest of the way to the floor in his rush to the bathroom though, startling poor Toby from where he had been snoozing the night away in his dog bed. He had only barely made it before he found himself throwing up what little food he had been able to eat during the day, and the coolness of the porcelain against is forehead was a balm of relief when compared to the burning in his throat and heat of his tears as they flowed slowly down his face.

He could tell the moment that Lilith had found him from the surprised cry of alarm behind him, quickly followed by a clatter as she dropped the phone to the linoleum floor in her shock as she reached out to take her son's face in her hands. Chris knew that he must have looked a dreadful sight, his face pale and drawn while his eyes looked at her with a glassy stare. The next second, she was yelling over her shoulder for his father to wake up now and turn on the car, but Chris wasn't paying any attention to that. Not when he was just starting to make out the sound of the voice through the phone, and more importantly, the screaming in the background of the call.

That was Ashley's scream. It was a sound he didn't think he would ever be allowed to forget and it hit him that she was screaming—screaming for him—and he wasn't there.

Clumsily, he ripped his face from his mother's hands and stumbled to the living room where he had left his phone on the couch. He had to help her. She needed him and he had to help her. The moment he finally had his phone in his hand he pulled up her contact name...and then he froze unsure of what to do. He couldn't call her, not because of this whole stupid break thing, but because the sound of her voice sobbing on the phone will cause him to break down with her and the last thing either of them need is to scream and cry while they're both so, so far away from each other. So he does the next best thing he can do:

He texts her.

C: what does a cloud wear under his raincoat? C: thunderwear C: why are teddy bears never hungry? C: cause they're always stuffed C: why do ducks have tail feathers? C: to cover up their buttquacks C: what kind of shoes do private investigators wear? C: sneak-ers C: why do i never tell jokes about pizza? C: they're too cheesey

And on and on and on. Even as his fingers shake he continues to text her stupid little jokes. The same ones he tells to her when he's there to hold her in his arms and remind her that he's still okay and that she’s safe. There's no describing the sob of relief he makes when she finally responds.

C: prime-mates C: what event do spiders love to attend? A: Cats C: webbings

There's a moment where he doesn't know what she means by that. How on earth could cats be the pun he was looking for in the joke? And then it hits him. She needs to know that it's really him telling these jokes and that she's not just making up everything she's seeing on her phone. Ashley is asking for the stupidest jokes about cats he knows so she can confirm that it's really him on the phone. Even tired as he is—and he is so so tired—they come naturally to him as only talking with Ashley and middle school dad jokes ever did.

C: what's a cat's favourite colour? C:purr-ple C: what do you call a cat that loves to bowl? C: an alley cat C: what's a cat's favourite tv show? C: claw and order C: what does the cat say after making a joke? C: just kitten

And so on and so forth. Ashley throws out a new topic for jokes and Chris replies with them as quickly as he can. He can hear his mom and dad talking in the next room, to each other and Saundra on the phone, but the only person he cares about is the one on the other side of his. He needs to call her. He knows what Ashley needs when she has a nightmare this bad, and the jokes are helping but she needs to hear his voice to be truly convinced that he's okay. But he can't hear hers without making things so much worse than they already are and he doesn't know what to say that would calm her down and—he stares at the last joke he had just typed out unconsciously it hits him.

C: what did the two volcanoes say to each other? C: i lava you C: i'm going to call your phone but whatever you do don't answer it C: just let it go to voicemail and please don't answer it C: please

Chris doesn't wait for her response as he shoves past his father to his bedroom, ignoring the startled shout as he slams the door behind him, and slumps against it to the floor. He doesn't want his parents to hear this. It's not anything that would worry them, but it's so so private and the only person he wants to hear this is Ash. He still doesn't look at her response as he frantically taps the call button and listens to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And then, finally, he hears her voice for the first time in nearly a week.

"Hi, this is Ashley. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Promise!"

***

Please enter your password.

6279#

You have one new voice message. To play your messages, press one. To record—

"I love you. I'm so sorry that I'm not there so say it to your face but I love you so much that I can't fucking stand it somedays and I should have told you ages ago. I should have said it five days ago but I didn't. I should have been saying it to you before falling asleep and after waking up every day. On the helicopter ride down the mountain. When you kissed me for the first time. I think I was lying when I said that nothing was wasted between us, because I should have been screaming this to you from the first moment you smiled at me. I wasted so much time not telling you this so I'm going to say it now. I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo—"

To replay this message: press one. To go to—

"I love you. I'm so sorry that I'm not there so say it to your face but I love you so much that I can't fucking stand it somedays and I should have told you ages ago. I should have said something five days ago but I didn't. I should have been saying it to you before falling asleep every night and after waking up every morning. On the helicopter ride down the mountain. When you kissed me for the first time. I think I was lying when I said that nothing was wasted between us, because I should have been screaming this to you from the first moment you smiled at me over that diner's table. I wasted so much time not telling you this so I'm going to say it now. I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo—"

"I love you. I'm—"

"I love you."

To replay this message: press one. To go to the previous message: press one one. To pause during message playback: press two. To fast forward a message during playing: press three. To hear this message, and the time it was delivered: press five. To copy this message to another person: press six. To erase this message and go to the next: press seven. To reply: press eight. To save this message and go to the next: press nine. To—

You have no new messages.

*beep*

A: I need you A: Please A: Please A: I need you A: I need you A: I need you

Please enter your password.

***

The car ride over was almost unbearable. Chris wasn't driving himself fortunately, with how tired and anxious he had been feeling for days now it would have been an absurdly stupid idea that likely would have ended in his death if he wasn't extremely lucky. As it was, he had been ready to go and beg a ride from his parents but had found Gabe already standing by the front door with the keys in hand. His almost pure white hair messy from being pulled from bed unexpectedly and leveling Chris with a glare that brooked no argument. It wasn't an argument that Chris intended to fight against as he hugged his father hard in thanks before climbing into the back of the vehicle.

But the drive had felt so much longer than it usually did, and Ashley having stopped responding to his texts certainly hadn't helped matters any. He still sent them anyways, more for his own reassurance than hers now. Lilith sat in the passenger seat next to her husband, still talking on the phone to Saundra to give progress reports and reassurances that yes the three of them were on their way now, even as she sent the occasional nervous glances at Chris in the backseat. Though worried for him or for the car upholstery in case the movement of the vehicle set off his gag reflex was anyone's guess.

The moment Chris felt the vehicle slow down his eyes jumped to the window and saw the familiar and welcoming shape of Ashley's building and he was already fumbling with seatbelt and opening the car door before they had even fully stopped. He hears his parent's cry out in shock as he dives out the still moving (even if very slowly) vehicle and he's stumbling towards the door. Chris realizes in horror that in his hurry to leave he had managed to completely forget his keys by the front door, and in the time it takes him to realize that the door has already opened. Saundra is standing in front of him dressed up for her overnight shift at the dispatch center that she is now extremely late for, and phone held up to her ear as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Chris doesn't even bother to say thanks or remark about the deep scratches on her cheek, the pair still bleeding just a little, before he's shoving his way past her and up the stairs to where Ashley's room is. He trips on the last step and falls forward, his phone skittering across the floor, but leaves it once he gets to his feet and just about barges into her room.

He takes barely a moment to stare at Ashley huddled up on her bed, looking so small in his dark sweater, and her eyes squeezed shut as her phone is pressed as close to her ear as possible as she rocks back and forth. There's a thin streak of dried blood from her mouth all the way down her chin and her eyes fly open in shock when he takes an unsteady step towards her. For a split second he's too scared to move, he doesn't want to frighten her anymore than she already is, but then the phone drops from her fingers and she whimpers out his name like she can’t believe he’s really here and he breaks.

He's already fully crying as he collides into her on the bed, but so is she so there's no need to feel embarrassed about that. He can hear his own voice as a tinny facsimile from the phone as the voicemail continues to play out before starting off into the electronic drone of the operator, but he ignores it for the feel of Ashley's arms wrapped firmly around him, her hands clawing into the back of his shirt to try and hold him closer as they both sob bitterly into each others shoulders. Chris is the first to pull back, though it's just so he can hold her face in his hands as he presses their foreheads together, thumbs wiping away tears that won't stop falling even as he continues to cry himself, just soaking in her presence in front of him. Ashley takes no time for her hands to start roaming all over his skin when they snake underneath his shirt, just feeling the unmarked bare skin as she searches for wounds and marks that no longer exist or have never even existed in the first place.

The two of them sit there like that for an unknown amount of time, just confirming that the other is truly alive and safe. Until Ashley slowly removes her hands from under his shirt so she can drag him down and forward into a deep kiss. A kiss that is by all accounts is downright awful considering that Chris never got the chance to rinse out his mouth and all he can taste is the blood in Ashley's from where she had bit her tongue during her nightmare at some point. Neither of them care. And he still doesn't care when Ashley starts to leave what may very well be slightly bloody kisses as she trails her lips from his mouth to the corner of his lips, across his cheek, and down his jaw until she finds the spot she's looking for and stops there so she can feel his frantic pulse thrumming beneath the skin. She holds her mouth there for what many would likely consider to be an uncomfortably long amount of time, but Chris says nothing. Not when he's now too busy picking up where Ashley had let off, letting his hands skate over the area of her stomach and waist beneath her shirt and his sweater.

The moment the two of them have calmed down enough that the sobs have lessened into quiet tears, Ashley finally removes her lips from his jaw and lowers one of her hands so she can place it flat on his chest and can feel his heart thumping steadily beneath her hand. Chris lets a hand cover hers to hold it there while he carefully places the other on the back of her neck, this thumb soothingly rubbing back and forth to comfort her. And gently, so gently, he brings their foreheads back together as they let the last of their adrenaline run out.

She's safe. He's safe. They're both safe and that is all that matters right now.

"I'm sorry," Ashley is the first to speak and words catch and almost shatter on the way out. "I'm so sorry. This was such a stupid idea and—"

He doesn't disagree with her. This had been a terrible idea from the start and while she's not wrong that they need to get used to not being around all the time, this was too much too soon. For both of them it seems. "I can't do that again Ash," he says instead. "We'll figure something out. Make agreements with our dorm roommates if we have to, force the college heads to accept our emails and the doctors advice, or rent the shittiest and cheapest apartment we can find. I don't care. We'll figure it out, but I can't do that again Ash. I love you but I can't."

Ashley nods weakly against his head in agreement. She can't do it again either. The two of them had barely lasted five days after all, and this whole failed endeavour had probably sent them back months. "I love you too. I love you so so much. You can't leave me, Chris, please. You can't. Not tonight."

He has no intention to, he doesn't know what his parents intended bringing him here, or if they thought he'd be going back home with them after this, but he's not going anywhere. They'll have to drag him kicking and screaming from the bed if they try, and now that the adrenaline has finally worn off, the lack of sleep he'd been having the last five days is hitting him and he is just so, so very tired. So tired, that all he gives in reply is just a reassuring forehead kiss in promise that he won't be going anywhere, not for a long time if he can help it, and then starts to bring Ashley down so she can lay on the bed with him. She follows without a fight.

It only takes them a moment to settle, Ashley laying so her front is flush to his back as is physically possible with her arm draped over his waist and fingers threaded tightly through his. Chris takes her other hand so he can softly kiss her inner wrist and then holds the knuckles lightly to his lips. The two of them slowly drifting off as Ashley continues to softly whisper declarations of love into the back of his neck.

Chris's eyes are closed, just enjoying her whispers that are meant just for him to hear, and even then he can tell that someone is standing in the door and watching them. But even if he opened his eyes to see who it was, with his glasses now resting in their spot on Ashley’s bedside table, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. And he’s just far too exhausted to even try right now. It’s only her mom anyway, or one of his parents—quite possibly all three of them—and he knows that come morning and after hours and hours of sleep, that there are going to be some conversations and intense worried scolding that need to be had. But with Ashley's fingers squeezing around his, and him squeezing back just as firmly, he doesn't care.

For the first time in a little over five days, the two of them fall asleep peacefully. Secure and content in the knowledge that they’re not gonna have to do this again, not for a very, very long time.

#my writing #pride month prompt challenge #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #is a sad heartbreaking story #lik dis if you cry #asdsakjdasd

19 notes · View notes

whumpzone · 4 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe - Part 2

yay I’m quite ahead on writing this so decided to post this pretty soon after the first one!

taglist: (thank you all for the support! please let me know if I’ve missed you or you want to be added) @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles

CW: pet whumpee, aftermath of torture, references to past abuse, some injury detail

Tomas was jerked out of his sleep by fitful screaming coming from the room beside his. He sat up in a blind panic. That room was empty, wasn’t it? Who- oh, shit, Kasia had given him that Pet yesterday. Rowe. And now it was- Tomas checked the clock on the wall- half five in the morning, and he was screaming. He stumbled out of bed, almost fainting as he stood up too fast, and pushed open the door to the spare room.

To his surprise and- relief?- Rowe was asleep. He lay on his side, eyes screwed shut, his arms jerking as he tried to protect his head from whatever attacks were being dealt in his nightmare. Tomas felt his heart go out to him as he took one of Rowe’s arms and tried to shake him awake.

‘”Hey. Hey! Wake up, wake up pal, c’mon.”

Rowe’s eyes shot open and he cried out in surprise, scrambling away from Tomas until his torn-up back hit the wall, making him yelp in pain. “M-Master! Master, I’m, I- uh-”

“You’re alright, you were having a nightmare. I heard you screaming.”

“Oh no, no, I’m s-so sorry Master please, it won’t h…happen again I swear, p-please-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tomas said slightly frantically. Rowe was looking at him in terror. “Deep breaths. Copy me. It’s okay.”

He breathed in and out slowly, tapping out the seconds, until Rowe had stopped hyperventilating. The two men sat in silence for a minute, both calming down.

“You gave me quite a fright,” Tomas said, then immediately regretted it. Rowe shrank into himself, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Please punish me, Master Tomas,” he whispered. “I want to- to be good.”

“It’s too early,” Tomas mumbled. He was so tired his eyelids were closing by themselves.

“I’m sorry for waking you, Master.”

“I mean,” he ran a hand down his face, “I won’t- I’m not gonna hurt you, Rowe. You couldn’t help it. I just want to go back to sleep. Will you be alright the rest of the night?”

“Yes, Master,” Rowe promised.

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Tomas pushed himself off the bed, ignoring the temptation to just flop down and sleep there, and dragged himself back to his room.

. . .

Once Master Tomas had left, Rowe pressed his trembling hands to his face, letting himself cry until he felt that the nightmare had passed him by for good. He was awake, he reminded himself, and Master was satisfied to leave his punishment until morning. All he had to do until then was not disturb him again.

It had been such a kindness, allowing Rowe to sleep in a bed, and he had ruined it by having one of his stupid bad dreams. No one else has a Pet that screams every fucking night, his old master had told him. Shut the fuck up, right now.

Should he have warned Master Tomas before he went to sleep? If he’d known he might have thought twice about letting Rowe sleep through the night, especially in the room right next to his. But then again, he might have punished Rowe for talking back. It was a wonder he slept at all, in this new house with a new Master, but he had been ordered to sleep in the bed, and so he did.

No more, though. Rowe was relieved that Master hadn’t made him to go back to sleep. Instead he had ordered him to be good and stay quiet until morning, and that was a far more achievable goal. He shifted into autopilot as he made the bed and knelt down in the corner of the room.

. . .

When Tomas went into Rowe’s room again at the more acceptable time of nine o’clock and saw him kneeling beside a bed that had clearly not been slept in, he was…oddly unsurprised. How else would he avoid another nightmare? he thought grimly.

“Good morning, Rowe.”

“Good morning, Master Tomas.”

“Have you been knelt here ever since I left?”

“Yes, Master.”

Right. No point berating him, he’d done it now. Tomas decided to try a different approach. Anything to stop him looking so god damn terrified.

“You were so quiet. I wasn’t disturbed at all. Well done.”

“Th-thank you, Master.”

It hadn’t worked quite as well as Tomas had hoped. Rowe’s face was still taut with fear and… expectation? Just as Tomas was wondering how else to calm him down, Rowe lowered his forehead to the floor.

“Please punish me for last night’s offences, Master.”

Tomas remembered his exchange with Rowe suddenly. He had been so tired he couldn’t recall the exact wording, but he got the feeling he’d put off giving Rowe a punishment until morning. Really clever of yesterday’s Tomas. Even though he hated the idea of Pets, he had heard enough to know how they were generally treated. He could see that refusing to reprimand Rowe in some way would only freak him out more. And more importantly… Tomas had just had the perfect idea.

“Right. Firstly, I’d like you to tell me what you did,” Tomas said. He quickly followed that up with, “so that you are clear on what you are being punished for.”

“I disturbed you in the night with my screaming, Master, and I pulled away from you when you woke me up.”

His delivery was crystal clear- no stammering or hesitation. Tomas hadn’t even realised that Rowe pulling away was an offence. “Yes. As I said last night, you couldn’t help that. I’m punishing you now… because you didn’t warn me ahead of time. I thought someone had broken in or you were mortally wounded. Follow me, Rowe.”

Tomas felt more than a little smug at how quickly he’d come up with something. He marched Rowe into his bedroom, and pointed to his wardrobe.

“There’s a spider in there. I saw it yesterday. I want you to get rid of it.”

Rowe couldn’t entirely hide the look of relief that flashed across his face, and Tomas beamed. He must not be afraid of spiders. That was fantastic.

“Of course, Master.”

He stood a safe distance away as Rowe reached in without hesitation and gently scooped up the spider. Tomas pushed open a window and Rowe let it go onto the outside ledge.

“I-is that all, Master?”

“Yes. Creepy little things.”

“Yes, Master…” Rowe obviously lied. Tomas couldn’t help but smile.

“Right, now that you’ve learnt your lesson, let’s have breakfast.”

. . .

Rowe watched Master place a bowl of cereal in front of him, feeling totally disposable. He wanted to plead that he could handle the cooking, he could be a useful Pet. He could clean and wash and serve and take pain graciously. He didn’t want to get thrown out again. But Rowe didn’t know this house; Master hadn’t even shown him where the cutlery was kept yet, and the last thing Rowe wanted to do was waste Master Tomas’s time. So he just ate up.

Rowe knew he had to adapt to his new Master as quickly as possible, but this morning’s punishment had only confused him more. He had assumed the wardrobe was some sort of tool closet, and Master would choose a suitable instrument to hurt him with. He had swallowed and reminded himself that this was good, this was helping him to be good. So when the order came to remove a little spider, he had been too shocked to tell his Master that he wasn’t afraid of them. And now he was stuck! Rowe didn’t let himself think about what Master Tomas would do if he ever found out. He wanted to be good so much, but now he felt like he was being more badly behaved than ever. His spoon clinked against the bowl as he trembled and he quickly shoved it into his mouth.

“The first thing to do today is get you washed and find you something to wear. I can’t believe I’ve just let you stay in those boxers all night.”

“I’m sorry fo-for the inconvenience, Master.”

Master scoffed. “Hardly. It’d be a bigger inconvenience if you were walking around dirty and half-naked, frankly.”

Rowe hung his head. Master was right; he was a state. “Of course, Master. U-um-” he started, faltering as Master Tomas fixed him with a stare. But he had to ask this. To wait any longer would only mean more pain in the future, so he slid off the chair and kneeled in submission. “A-all this food, and a name, and new clothes, and a bath, please, what do I need to do for you?”

“Do for me?”

“To earn it, M-master…”

“You don’t need to.”

What mindgame was this? Rowe didn’t understand it at all, and not understanding always meant displeasing his Master. “P-please,” he said, a little more forceful than intended. “Please, Master, I have to earn it. I’ll t-take anything, so please, cut me, burn me, whip me, I’ll b-be good, I’ll earn it…”

There was a long silence and Rowe’s mind started to run with all the ways he could have phrased that differently, if he’d spoken too much or too loudly, if he should have spoken at all. Master Tomas still had his eyes on Rowe and he felt overwhelmed by the feeling that there was nowhere to hide. Glancing up, he saw that Master’s eyes were burning. He was probably looking at how dirty and disgusting he was, Rowe thought miserably.

Master Tomas eventually moved, reaching out a hand to Rowe’s head and leaving it there. He stayed still, wondering when the fingers would close around his hair and yank him off the ground, or slam his face into the floor, or pull his head back to be screamed at or spat on.

“You have earned those things, Rowe,” Master Tomas said. “Aside from this morning’s hiccup you’ve been no trouble at all. And it’s important to me that you stay healthy and well-groomed. Do you understand?”

Rowe nodded slowly. He thought he understood. Master Tomas liked his Pet to be pretty, and he was willing to spare some of his food and soap to achieve this. Rowe could be pretty. He could be whatever Master wanted. Master’s hand, still on his head, ruffled his hair gently. It felt quite nice.

Ten minutes later, Master had found Rowe a soft white t-shirt and a pair of black shorts to wear. Rowe pressed his forehead to the ground and thanked him profusely.

“Well… you’re welcome,” Master Tomas said. “I’ve run you a bath, but I’m going to help you. I want to get your wounds properly cleaned up, and I know you won’t be able to reach them all by yourself. I’ve- uh-” Master held his elbows and looked away. “I’ve made sure there are a lot of bubbles, so I won’t see anything…”

“Please don’t worry about that, Master. My body belongs to you.” It felt odd to remind his Master of that, but Master Tomas was young, far younger than Rowe’s old master, and he wondered if this was his first Pet. The pressure of that scared him.

. . .

Tomas tried not to grimace. Rowe was right, of course. He did belong to Tomas, and that meant his whole body, but phrasing it like that still made his skin crawl.

“Let’s just get you washed, okay?” he said, stiffly. When Rowe raised his head from the floor, he looked more wary than before.

Tomas averted his gaze as Rowe lowered himself slowly into the bath, hissing quietly as the soap invaded his fresh cuts. Even once he was sat in the bath, he kept his hands firmly gripping the tub. Tomas wondered briefly if he thought he might get pushed under the water. He looked so delicate, his torso and heavily bruised knees rising out of the bubbles, blue and black and purple and red against the soothing soapy white. Tomas tried to ignore the way Rowe was trembling as he stood over him, and grabbed a flannel.

Dipping it into the bathwater, he instructed Rowe to lean forward and pressed it, gently but firmly, against an open cut on Rowe’s back. He didn’t move, not even a little bit. He was holding his breath again, Tomas realised.

“Does it hurt, Rowe?”

A pause. Rowe was clearly weighing up how to answer this. “It’s nothing, Master Tomas.”

“You’re so good at taking pain. It’s making it so easy to get these wounds cleaned. Well done.”

Rowe exhaled and Tomas smiled softly. Some of the tension in the air dissipated.

Once the blood had been cleaned off his back and neck, Tomas was satisfied Rowe could handle the rest himself. He would have to, Tomas thought, since looking at the damage done to Rowe in such detail had made him want to throw up, punch someone, or scream, whichever was easiest. By the time he had finished he was almost shaking with anger. He stood up and Rowe turned, shrinking when he saw the thunder on Tomas’s face.

“M-master?”

“I have things to get on with. Stay as long as you’d like in the bath and get yourself clean.”

Getting out of that hot, hazy room already made Tomas feel ten times calmer. He leant against the wall, trying to shake the image of those long cuts down Rowe’s spine, the way Tomas had seen into the torn skin as he’d cleaned away the blood. The way he’d brushed his fingers accidentally against the handprint, stark and purple on Rowe’s neck. Worst of all, the way Rowe had just sat there. Totally accustomed to being used as someone else’s stress ball. Tomas ground his teeth, stalked downstairs and called Kasia.

“…yes, alright,” Kasia said, clearly speaking through a mouthful of food, “I can admit that it was in pretty bad nick when we picked it up.”

“Pretty bad nick? He can’t even look at me without shaking like a leaf. And don’t call him an ‘it’, please. It’s just weird.”

“Well, do you still want to keep him?”

“I….yeah. I’ve got him now, haven’t I? Can’t just shift him onto someone else.”

“Yeah, I can’t lie, I don’t think it- he’d ever recover from getting chucked out twice in one week.”

“I just don’t know how to handle him, yet. I thought you might have some tips.”

“Sure thing, mate. I’ll swing by in an hour, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, cool. See you then.”

#mine #tomas and rowe #expect to see about a billion mentions of rowe trembling each chapter lmao #i LIKE IT OKAY #whump #pet whumpee #aftermath of torture #pet whump #master/pet #whump fic

274 notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 4 years

Text

tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights”

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ????

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

#tua rewatch #i cannot beliEVE she likes pogo so much #pogo was complicit in the hargreeves abuse no i wont change my mind #i would be more likely to forgive him if he didnt keep mentioning how much reginald loved them #pogo fam dont say that #youre just going to feed luthers daddy issues #more to come #i cannot BELIEVE i forgot five got shot/grazed in the arm by a bullet #he slaps a BANDAID OVER IT #right after i said five is better at woundcare than cha cha with the curling iron #he just #slaps a bandaid on it #not even a big bandaid #that motherfucker

71 notes · View notes

rest-upon-the-morning-light · 3 years

Text

JonMartin fic

So I’m trying to get back into fic writing, especially for TMA, and have a multi chapter fic planned but wanted to start with a smaller one shot style fic to warm up. It’s been an age since I’ve written anything, much less something that wasn’t just reader based or smut lmao. I’ve added trigger warnings but if I missed any do let me know!

Any feedback would be great and if you like this, please send me prompts! Happy to write anything from fluff to smut, just as long as its TMA based :D

So! Here is my cute fluff JonMartin fic! Enjoy~

Everybody Wants To Be A Cat

Word Count: 2240

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Animal Abuse, but nothing to graphic. Anxiety. Self Worth Issues. Season 1 Jon being Season 1 Jon. Season 1 Martin being Season 1 Martin.

Fandom: The Magnus Archive

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Summary: Martin was certain of two things. One, he had an enormous crush on his boss. Two, his boss hated him. Who knew a one eyed beast of an alley cat would bring them closer?

Martin Blackwood has two problems.

Problem number one. He was absolutely certain he was more than a little bit in love with his boss.

Problem number two. His was absolutely certain said boss hated him.

Well, hated was probably a strong word. Hated implied that Jon thought of him at all, and it was far more likely that Jon thought of him very little throughout his day. Except, of course, when Martin did something wrong. Then those piercing eyes of his would be solely fixed on him whilst he shouted about how inept Martin was or how stupid his mistake had been.

It hurt, those moments. It hurt that the only time Jon ever truly seemed to see Martin was when he was angry at him. Not when Martin did an amazing follow up on a statement. Not when he’d created a great rapport with a statement giver or their family. Not when he brought Jon tea. Just when he did something wrong.

It was a running theme in this annoyance Martin called his life.

He still couldn’t help these feelings though. Jon was an arse half the time that much was true. It infuriated Tim to know end when Jon would lash out at Martin. “He has no right Martin. Mistake or not he’s your boss, he’s supposed to help you, not act like a massive dick all the time”

It was harder for Tim and Sasha in a way. They’d been Jon’s equal for a long time, working together. Moving to the Archive was always going to be a bit of a challenge. To have friend become boss. Especially for Sasha, who everyone thought was going to be become Head Archivist. But neither had held any real resentment over Jon for the change. After all, it wasn’t his choice, it was Elias’s.

But Jon’s sudden shift from rude but mostly recluse and occasionally friendly colleague to rude very recluse and stick constantly up arse boss was harder than any of them expected.

Martin could understand. It was big position and Jon seemed like the type to take everything he did very seriously. This meant holding everything in the archive to a high standard. His assistance included.

So yes, Jon was awful to him a lot of the time. But he was passionate. He cared. For all his blustering that none of this was real, Martin could see how much he empathised with the people who had given those statements. How he looked like he’d personally failed them when a follow up revealed they had died not longer after they’d come to visit the institute.

His crush probably wasn’t the most healthy but sue him! He liked being a bit in love. He liked having inspiration for his poetry. He enjoyed the fluttery feeling in his stomach when he came into work.

He just wished Jon didn’t quite hate. No. Didn’t quite dislike him so much.

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

There is a cat that has been hiding the alleyway behind the Institute for several days now.

Martin noticed the poor thing when he’d been taking out some rubbish that accumulated in the Archive. Usually that sort of thing wasn’t his job, but he’d been done for the day anyway and he liked to be useful, even if no one really noticed.

It was a mangy young thing. Light brown fur matted, one eye seemed to be damaged and it hissed every time Martin so much as approached it.

He couldn’t just leave it though. Poor thing needed help. It was out here, lonely, forgotten, damaged by the people that probably at one point said they’d love and protect it.

Was he projecting onto a stray cat now? God this was a new level of sad.

So he did what someone in his position did best. He researched.

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

There is a surprising number of places to buy cat supplies near the Institute and the workers in the shop were incredibly helpful with his questions.

Approach slowly. Don’t try to touch or hold the cat. Leave out food and water. He’d also bought a small plastic hut and shoved a warm blanket inside for the large cat. He didn’t know what breed it was. Just that it was grumpy and hurt.

It didn’t take a great deal away from his own funds either. His job paid well enough and he didn’t exactly go out with people very often, buying expensive drinks or tickets to shows.

His special treat was usually some sugar drenched coffee.

He couldn’t see any physical injuries on the cat, apart from its eye, so he put some treats in the hut, left out the food and water, then left.

He came back everyday with more supplies to keep the large growling cat comfortable. Every day that passed the cat came a little bit closer to him. He grinned at that. Hoping one day it would come close enough to pet.

He’d read somewhere that when cats blink, once and slow, it was a sign that they trusted you. Martin waited for that day with bated breath.

Tim and Sasha were a little bit suspicious as to where he was going on his lunch breaks. He told them he just taking a long walk, getting some fresh air away from the dusty old archives but he knew it wasn’t the best lie.

Lying for the sake of his job was one thing. Lying to his friends for no good reason was another.

It wasn’t like he doing anything bad. It was more that he wanted this for himself. He wasn’t even too sure why. Part of him wondered if he was worried the cat would somehow take some natural liking to either one of them or both. He didn’t want to lose all his hard work.

Or, if he was being more honest with himself, he didn’t want the cat to abandon him for someone better.

Yeah. New level of pathetic had been reached.

But one lunch, a few weeks after he’d first spotted the broken but massive feline, that the lying and the ill feeling became absolutely worth it.

Because the cat approached him.

Martin didn’t move a single muscle. He was sat on a small wooden box in the alley. Far enough away as to not frighten the poor thing, but close enough that the cat could make contact if it wanted to.

And today it did.

He held his breath the closer it got, keeping eye contact with its good eye the whole time. It paused for a moment, right in the front of his bent legs, before it let out a small mirp noise and butted its head against his knee.

“Oh hello” Martin laughed, chest feeling lighter than it had in an exceptionally long time.

He reached out his hand slowly to pet its head and let out another sign of relief when the one eyed cat let him.

“Well” he began

“I can’t very well keep calling you cat or beast in my head, you’ll need a name”.

It didn’t acknowledge his words in any way, just continued to let him scratch behind its ears and watched him with its one working eye. He could almost imagine its thoughts.

“Silly Martin, just come up with one already. Stop wasting time”.

He let out a soft chuckle at the thought, a name ready on his lips.

“Jon” he smiled gently.

“I think I’ll call you Jon”.

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

It went well after that. Martin made plans to keep the cat. It would help the dreariness of his lonely flat, and he was lucky his landlord allowed pets in his building.

He couldn’t afford proper insurance but the workers at the pet shop knew an emergency vet that wasn’t too expensive, so he could get Cat Jon’s eye checked out soon.

Giddy as he was with his newfound friend, he didn’t realise that he’d been less subtle than usual about where he was going on his break.

It was one grey, wet Wednesday that it all came to ahead.

He’d been sitting crossed legged on the ground, his coat below him as a sort of makeshift blanket to keep his trousers dry, when Human Jon found them.

He hadn’t even noticed Jon had followed him until the backdoor that led the alley burst open with a bang that echoed down the narrow way.

“Martin” shouted Jon, looking at some papers in his hand.

“I need you to take your lunch late and follow up on this report. You made several errors in your research that, frankly, a child could spot. I don’t know what you’re doing out here but if you have time to sit around then –“

Jon’s rant was cut short as he finally looked up to the picture that greeted him.

Cat Jon had leaped into his arms from the loud noise, clinging to Martin’s bright yellow sweater.

Martin froze, cat in arms as Jon stared at him with a look of equal shock.

“Oh” began Jon softly

“Sorry” Martin practically shouted.

“I – eh – this is, well um, a cat, I found? A few weeks ago, actually. I’ve been sort of taking care of it? Getting it food and water and um” he gestured to the plastic hut and blanket he’d laid out.

“He was hurt you see. Only one eye and really badly taken care of. Abandoned, I recon. So I’ve been out here on lunches making sure he’s, um, that he’s okay? Is that..is that alright?” he trailed off nervously.

He couldn’t look at Jon. It wasn’t exactly something to be ashamed of, taking care of a stray cat. But he could imagine Jon being the sort of serious no nonsense person who would see it as a waste of time, his lunch break or not. God would this make his relationship worse? Would Jon scold him for it? Did it make him seem more pathetic than before? Christ, was that even possible?

He didn’t notice the movement until Jon was sat beside him on the floor.

Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, sat on a dirty alley floor with Martin K Blackwood.

He watched with bated breath as Human Jon reached his hand out to Cat Jon and let out a small sound of relief when Cat Jon didn’t bite, scratch or run away.

“You poor thing” murmured Jon, eyes only on his (unknowing) cat counterpart.

“What have they done to you? Well, you look better now than you probably did before. Thank to our Martin here”.

Martin couldn’t help but blush deeply at that. Hot all over his face. He couldn’t handle this. Jon being all, all soft and gentle and calling him “our” Martin.

“You’ve been taking care of him then?” Jon looked up at Martin now. Eyes soft and kind for once. It nearly took all of Martins brain power to respond after receiving such a look.

“Yes” he began.

“Like I said, I found him a few weeks ago. Planning on taking him back to mine soon, get him out of the cold properly”.

Jon nodded, eyes never leaving Martins, hand firmly petting the cat in Martins arms.

“I’m sorry, about the work” Martin nervously bit his lip.

“I’ve been really worried about him so I rushed it to get out here on time. It’s no excuse and I know you don’t exactly think highly of my work in the first place. I’ll make sure I stay late tonight so I can catch up”

“Martin” interrupted Jon, eye straying on the bitten lip, a slight flush to his cheeks.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I haven’t been fair to you these past few months. It’s been unprofessional at best and, well, and downright cruel at worst”

“Your job is stressful” Martin tried to defend

“And we both know I’m not exactly at the same standard at the others”

“Still” Jon continued.

“It’s my job to help you, not, berate you at every mistake. You came from the library, not research, so you have different skill set and – well, its been hard for us all. Not fair of me to put all that blame on you. God knows Tim could stand to be a bit more professional at times” Jon grumbled out the last part, a small pout to his lips.

Martin laughed at that, smiling wider than he could last remember.

“Tim just likes to keep you human, I think” he winked and watched with fascination as the flush came back to Jon’s dark cheeks.

Cat Jon leap out of his arms after that, toddling off to who knows where.

“Well” Martin began, getting up from his cross legged position on the floor.

“We still have time for lunch, we could, um, maybe eat together? If that’s okay I mean! You could help me figure out a name for him?” “You don’t have one already?” replied Jon, surprise in his voice “Uhhh not any suitable ones, no” Martin laughed awkwardly.

He couldn’t exactly say he’d name the poor blighter after Jon. He doubted Jon would take it as a compliment and he didn’t want to ruin whatever fragile peace they’d stumbled onto.

He held out his hand to help Jon off the floor. Jon eyed it, before bringing his own hand up and placing it into Martins larger ones. Martin pulled him up and held back a small gasp as Jon shot forward quicker than intended, his smaller hand landing on Martin chest.

Jon looked up at him, a small shy smile gracing his lips.

“Beautiful” Martin couldn’t help but think, face and ears bright red.

Jon pulled back, coughing every so slightly into his fist.

“Yes, well, I’ve named a cat or two in my time, it won’t be too hard” “Oh?” teased Martin

“What about Magnus? We did find him here” Jon shook his head at that, crinkling his nose slightly.

“Absolutely not, something more dignified. The Captain maybe?” “Captain?” countered Martin

“The Captain” continued Jon as they began to head back inside

“I suppose the one eye does give him a bit of a pirate look” Martin couldn’t help by laugh slightly as he said it.

“Yes” Jon laughed back

“Dignified but still fitting his nature” And off they went, back into the Institute. Unaware of any monstrous eyes watching them as they simply watched each other. A new, wonderful feeling developing between them.

Neither noticed that they still held each others hands as they made their way to the break room.

And if they spoke of cat names, and toys and flushed deeply when they did notice the hands still entwined, well.

Those moments were only for them.

#the magnus archives #tma #writing #fanfiction #jon and martin both project onto the same cat #cats just sat there like #pls someone fucking take me home #kiss already #jonmartin #god i love soft moments for them #hope you guys enjoy!#pls send me prompts they feed me #my writing

14 notes · View notes