#i love how they were so vague with it like “gonna let time pass” and loki hearing those soft words | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llamagoddessofficial · 2 months

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The sirens are always rescuing Mc. But what if, for once, Mc was the one who came to the rescue of a siren...?

Amazing commission, courtesy of the delightful @our-brightest-stars. I love any chance I can take to write more arctic-based stuff!

---

You could immediately tell, upon entering the room, that they had been talking about you.

Despite the sweet smell of coffee, the air was heavy. The chatter you had been hearing through the door immediately stopped, like you were a teacher that’d walked into a room of gossiping school kids. Four of your colleagues were gathered together around the kitchen table, mugs clasped in their hands - Evan, who you already thought was a bit of a dick, put his hand up to his shut mouth and cast a wide-eyed look to Leo and Tom beside him. Antoni, who you considered something of a friend, had her back to you but sank sheepishly into her beige turtleneck sweater regardless.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could tell from their faces what they had been discussing before you interrupted. You had gotten to know their expressions pretty well, after so long occupying the same cramped arctic research station together.

... Yeah, figured they’d find out eventually. If anything, I’m surprised it took them this long.

You wordlessly made your way over to the coffee pot, shoes squeaking against the rubber floor. You put your rucksack onto the counter, grabbing your flask out of it, skin prickling from their staring. There was still a significant amount of coffee left - a bonus of working with people who were also coffee addicts was they generally respected the ‘never leave the pot empty’ rule.

You filled your flask. The coffee still had some steam coming off it. Stars, the silence was deafening.

“... Uh... going out?” Antoni asked, plaintively, as you screwed the lid back on and pushed the sealed flask into the mesh on the side of your bag. At least she had the decency to sound ashamed. Leo didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker.

“Yeah.” You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders, doing your best to not make eye contact with any of them.

Evan, clearly, couldn’t contain himself. “Gonna go track down mothman?”

You felt a flush of multiple emotions at the same time. Some embarrassment, some shame, all of it quickly washed away by aggravation. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you held your tongue. You wanted to point out what a stupid fucking thing it was to talk about tracking mothman (a cryptid from West Virginia) in the high arctic, but it was obvious he was baiting you, so you kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been made fun of for what you believed in. However... the words stung that little bit more, when it was coming from your fellow scientists.

“Evan,” Antoni sounded exasperated, “don’t be such a prick.”

Evan raised his hands. “What? So I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

You didn’t respond. You walked past them, headed to the main corridor; you weren’t going to let this spoil your plans. “See you guys later.”

As you left the room, you vaguely heard Antoni and Leo starting to berate Evan in low whispers. Someone definitely called him an asshole, cut off as the door closed behind you.

You sighed. The hallway felt a lot longer than usual. You passed through another set of doors, heavy metal ones, into the cold ‘buffer’ room between the warm research station interior and the outside world. After double checking you had all your gear, you stepped out of the doors, outside into the sun.

People didn’t realise how beautiful the arctic could really be. If you told someone to describe the arctic, they would probably just talk about the ice. And yeah, sure, there was a lot of ice, it would be unreasonable to say someone was wrong for thinking of that. But that was like describing a forest as ‘just trees’. The arctic at this time of year was endless slopes of rugged greens that rolled and swayed and disappeared far away into the horizon and beyond, carved into shape by ancient lakes and glaciers scraping the ground piece by piece once in a millenia. It was a sight to behold. Trees couldn’t take root, only the hardiest shrubs survived, and you were little more than a stone’s throw from the vast sub-zero ocean.

That ocean, a haven for the rarest kinds of sirens, was your goal.

You tugged your backpack into a more snug position on your shoulders, and continued trudging through the stones and bare grasses. Even now, with the sun high in the air and all but the most stubborn chunks of the ice gone, the arctic was... well, the arctic. It never got warm enough to be comfortable and it was a good idea to just keep moving if you wanted to make it to the shoreline with enough time to actually get some footage before sundown.

You loved your job. Some would call you crazy, for willingly spending months at a time in the arctic circle studying sirens. You’d always been interested in sirens. The mystery and culture wrapped up within them, the inherent danger, so little information could solve so much. Siren studies was one of those areas where even the most fractional of discoveries would be groundbreaking and important.

... Sirens weren’t your true passion, though. Your true passion was what Evan had probably just discovered, and shared with your teammates - why you were lugging such a giant cold-resistant camera kit in your bag with you.

You quietened your thoughts with a swig of warm coffee, and an increased walking pace.

Would some people call your Youtube channel conspiratorial? Sure. But cryptids were where your heart really lied. Cryptid study, cryptid research, cryptid sightings... you were incredibly proud of the modest following of like-minded people you’d built up online over time - there was no doubt your qualifications definitely gave your word some weight in the tight-knit community. Honestly, you considered your research work simply a way to fund your true passion. Every day when you had the free time, you took your camera out with you, out into the beautiful arctic land. There was so much to look out for. What would you find? You were giddy. If you found something truly incredible, your channel could blow up, and you could do Youtube full time. Today your mission was just to get some footage of the sea for a voiceover section you had planned.

... There was never a small amount of side-eyeing from people you knew, when they found out what you were passionate about. You weren’t sure what was worse; the ones who rolled their eyes and made stupid comments, or the ones who nodded along but looked at you like you were a particularly imaginative child. At least the more aggressive ones were honest about how they really felt.

Sirens, in a way, felt like they proved that you were right to keep wondering what else was out there. They were incredible creatures, not even fractionally understood, dangerous and magical - they perfectly straddled the line between science and fantasy and there was so much of them that couldn’t be explained by those who (so frequently) brushed you off. How did their songs lure people? How do their bodies consist of such strange combinations of beings? How do they effortlessly sink hunting boats? Why did so many cultures have matching stories of them that perfectly apply to real life? In your world, honestly, the existence of sirens meant that a lot of other cryptids didn’t seem like too much of a stretch.

You had dedicated your life to researching sirens. By studying them, you could follow a path that was suitably scientific enough to shut up the assholes who didn’t take you seriously... but also gave you the time and resources to pursue your real passion.

You had to admit, you took pleasure in people discovering you were a scientist and a strong believer in certain cryptids. The visual erroring on their faces was wonderfully karmic to observe.

There was plenty of time to spare on the arctic research station. Experiments were frequent but didn’t take literally all day. You were left with ample opportunity to do whatever you pleased. Like, for instance... go out and film for your Youtube.

Aside from wanting to take pictures and film some B-roll, you just generally enjoyed being able to be outside. It was all well and good in the spring and summer, but when autumn and winter rolled around you’d be lucky to be able to see out of the windows. There was nothing as endless as the darkness of an arctic winter; the screaming winds, the days as pitch black as the nights, the many weeks cooped up in one place because the outside of the facility was literally one of the most hostile environments on Earth. It was good to stretch the legs - soak up as much serotonin as possible before the winter months came.

After a decent amount of time walking, immersed in your thoughts, you found yourself able to see the flat expanse of the sea poking just over the snow-topped hills. You were finally approaching the shore. Even from where you stood, you could see the massive ‘islands’ of ice floating silently away in the far distance. It was a truly magnificent place to be.

You rifled through your pockets for your hearing protection as you came close enough to the water to smell it, eventually having to pull off a glove for the dexterity. Even just a few metres from the sea you had to be aware of sirensong. Sirensong was always something of a risk but it was an even stronger risk while you were somewhere as remote as the arctic.

... But just before you got your protection into your ears, you heard something. It sounded like scrabbling, a weirdly desperate scratching. You stopped walking, turning cluelessly and searching for the source of the noise.

A few yards to your left, a patch of snow was wriggling.

No. It wasn’t snow. You blinked in surprise; it was an arctic hare, a surprisingly large animal, lean and white and with beady little black eyes. The animals this far north were always so much bigger than you expected. When it saw you notice it, it scrabbled and flailed in a way that only a frightened animal could, clearly desperately trying to run away.

Something was stopping it. Upon closer inspection, from where you stood, you could see it had one back leg trapped in a small crack in the ice.

... Huh. You moved nearer, putting your hearing protection back into your pocket. The hare flailed again, wildly kicking its front legs, it reminded you of an injured bird trying to fly. Then it totally stilled; as if it could hide from you after all that movement.

“... I really shouldn’t help you,” you said, dejectedly, to the terrified animal, watching its little whiskers twitch, long ears pinned back against its skull as it tried to act indistinguishable from the ground. “Survival of the fittest, and all.”

The hare’s beautiful eyes stared up at you. You could see its little chest going up and down, heart beating wildly under its soft white fur.

...

You scanned the horizon. There was no one around for a long while. Sure, your GPS tracker told your coworkers where you were at all times in case of emergency. But until they thought there was an emergency you absolutely weren’t being followed anytime soon.

...

You pulled your bag off your shoulders, kneeling down and tugging your ice pick out of its strap holder.

“No one will know, right?” you told the hare. It was just one hare. Even though leaving it was the logical thing to do, you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to abandon this animal to die slowly and painfully while lodged in the ground. Besides, it was just one hare, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like it had been caught by a predator, or something. It must’ve got its foot caught by accident; this was simply a terrible stroke of bad luck. If you freed it, it could go on to be eaten by a fox or wolf. Better that than to just die and freeze solid.

Using your ice pick, you carefully went behind the completely still creature. You were impressed by its dedication to stay totally still even when you were close enough to potentially reach out and stroke its fur. You had to be careful it didn’t spin around and bite you - you gently chipped away at the ice, extremely cautious not to catch its tiny bony leg. The entire time you dug, the hare was as still as the ice itself, unable to shake its instinctive need to stay small.

It really didn’t take long at all. A few careful draws of the sharp end of your axe against the compacted ice... and suddenly, like a gunshot going off, the animal sprinted away from you. Its powerful legs sent up a spray of snow, some of which went straight into your eyes - by the time you staggered to your feet, hurriedly wiped your face, sputtered and looked back up again, the hare was completely out of sight.

... Well. That was definitely a story to tell. You sighed, grabbing your bag and hoisting it back over your shoulder. At least -

- splashing?

Your head snapped toward the sea, in the direction of the sound. Against the total silence of the icy glassy sea, the splashing was loud, loud enough for you to hear it several metres away from the beach. It sounded frantic, almost aggressive. What the hell? What was going on today? You pushed your hearing protection onto your head, and half-ran-half-jogged toward the shoreline. The bare rock, grass and drifts of stubborn snow sloped away into loose pebbles that crunched and slid underfoot, mirrorlike water lapping slowly at the tide line only a few metres away. Lumps of ice, mini-glaciers of their own, floated silently and ominously by. This was water that would easily kill you if you fell in.

You scanned the shoreline, searching visually for the source of the noise you’d heard only moments ago - and soon you caught movement in the corner of your eye, just around a ‘corner’ caused by a rocky outcropping that jutted up a little higher than the rest of the landscape. Behind the outcropping, you could see large ripples spreading out, fast and random like something was fighting just behind where you could see. It was easy to pick up, considering the rest of the shoreline was so millpond still.

Immediately, you jumped into action, running across the pebbled beach and scrambling up and onto the rock face. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to see. Was it a person in distress?

... Except you could instantly tell it wasn’t a person, when the hidden section of the beach came into view, and you immediately saw a massive sleek outline that was easily twice as big as a person. It was for sure some kind of animal. But it took you a few crucial seconds of mind-whirring confusion to figure out what it was.

... Oh my stars. You ducked slightly, as if that would help.

It was a skeleton orca siren. A huge one. Partially beached, right there on the shore.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. All the breath left your chest at once. An skeleton orca siren, right before your eyes, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, arching white markings and strong bones unmarred by any scars that could show a loss. Its sockets were sharpened with frustration - its body was against the shore at an angle, you could tell from how its tail was still able to cause those waves that the sea probably deepened extremely suddenly. It was thrashing, clawed hands digging into the ground, the force of its thrashing sending up showers of both stone and sea.

Your breaths were controlled. The closest you had ever gotten to seeing a siren before was spotting their distant tiny shapes breaching near your boat, or the blurry low-quality images from underwater cameras. You’d never seen one in person so close you could touch it.

Clearly, you weren’t all that sneaky. Its rounded skeletal face whipped around, and razor-like white eyelights in pitch dark sockets landed on you.

Both of you were the rabbit this time. You froze, all your hair standing on end, nerves prickling. The siren froze too, waves stopping, it glared your way. At least... you felt like it was glaring. It was impossible to tell, its skeletal features were devoid of any of the usual emotional tells you relied upon. Whatever it was thinking, it was definitely staring, claws curling into the ground. Just its arms, twice the thickness of yours, could almost definitely snap your body in half.

Man. Chills spread across your whole body. Good fucking thing you put your hearing protection in, huh?

You took a slow moment to take it all in. From the shape of the dorsal fin, you could tell it was male; male orca had a tall, almost triangular fin, while females had a much more sloped and curved appendage. Those sharp white eyelights cut into you, he was taking in you just as you took in him, clearly analysing every part of you. There was something so terrifying about his gaze - the eyes of a predator.

He watched you. He seemed... alert. Very very alert.

...

Your heart was thundering in your ears, the only sound you could hear in your hearing protection. You unglamorously pulled yourself over the rock outcropping, scrabbling down it, and - against all advice you’d read before - approached.

He was beached. You had to at least see if you could help, right? It was one thing to have an inner battle about leaving a hare to die, it was another when the potential victim was a creature just as intelligent and sentient and aware as a person. He was laid at an angle, but still laid, the highest point of his back coming up to about your ribs. He had lost the advantage of movement. You nearly tripped over yourself as you moved closer, nervous feet skidding in the loose rocks.

... As you approached, he seemed to get... calmer? His eyesockets lost their sharpness, his eyelights grew in size. It was the opposite of what you anticipated. He wasn’t any less intimidating, though, no less scary. Your eyes kept darting to his teeth.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” you asked, though you weren’t expecting a response, unable to hear even your own voice through the protection. “Where’s the rest of your pod, you dumbass?”

Was he smiling at you? Surely not. You dropped your bag to the floor, a few feet from him, digging through it until you pulled out your thick waterproof overclothing. Some other items tumbled out as you removed the gear but you paid them no mind. The waterproof outfit was like a boilersuit, it could be put on over the top of your other items and zipped to create a (theoretically) waterproof layer. Normally, it was a pain in the ass to get on, but you felt that you were on a time crunch and had somehow manifested almost superhuman speed.

You zipped up the suit, now protected in case you got wet. The closer you moved to him, the more you wished you had time to stop and fully admire him. The water on his bones and skin made him almost appear like he was shimmering.

“... Ok,” you said, despite not being able to hear your own words, “easy big guy. Don’t bite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll get you back in the sea, and then I’ll go back to the land, and we can go on our way.”

He didn’t say anything. Because of course he didn’t, he was a siren, why did that thought even cross your mind? You blinked and shook your head, as if dispelling the thoughts physically. Of course he couldn’t talk. Something about his face felt so intelligent, somewhere deep down you had seemingly decided he could understand every word you said. And even if he did speak, it wasn’t like that’d be of any use to you.

Something about him was eerily calm, even as you moved around him, coming close enough to his side to be within touching distance. Surely, a stranded creature like him would be thrashing and fighting when you came nearer, just like the hare? Surely he’d be making angry, earsplitting sounds that you’d be able to feel in your chest? The wind was picking up, tussling your hair. The siren stayed perfectly calm.

“... I’m... I’m gonna need to touch you. Ok?”

...

... You reached out, and traced his skin with the tips of your fingers, extremely gently. It was cold. You immediately pulled back, turning and watching his face.

You expected something. Anything. A jump, a twitch, a lurch. Maybe even an attempt to fight you off. You expected him to swing around; hell, you expected him to even look at you. Any kind of a measurement of his reaction to you. Your legs were itching to leap back and flee.

But there was... nothing. No response from him at all.

You came in again, this time putting your palm against his back, just beside his fin. It felt like electricity was running up your arm.

Nothing. Like he didn’t even care you were there. He was looking over his shoulder at you with a bizarrely soft look. Like he wanted you there. You felt very, very strange. This wasn’t at all what you were thinking would happen.

It felt like such a naive thing to even consider, but maybe... maybe he knew you were trying to help?

Well, you didn’t have time to ponder the implications or reasons. You knew he was alright with physical contact. Now, you needed to figure out a way to get him back into the water.

You started by trying to pull - it only made sense, right? It kept you away from his front half, where the damage could be done. You looped your hands around the strong muscular base of his fin, using it like an anchor, digging your feet into the stones and throwing your whole weight backward. There was an extremely faint rocking of his body, literally about as much movement as someone trying to pull a car and only succeeding in making it bounce. Unperturbed, you tried again, pulling as hard as you could -

- the loose stones slid out from beneath your shoes. It kicked up the smell of wet seaweed and salt; if you hadn’t had your hands on his fin, your legs would’ve gone out from under you.

“Fuck,” you said breathlessly.

Did the siren laugh? Your head whipped around, he was looking ahead again. You felt like you saw his body move.

... It must’ve been some other kind of vocalisation. You stood and turned around, trying again, this time pushing with your hands braced against the same spot. You pushed as hard as you could, nearly forgetting to breathe out, feeling your shoulders and wrists starting to twinge in pain.

Once again, before you could make any meaningful progress, the force of your body made the slippery stones dislodge. You stumbled, all but falling flat onto his back, regaining yourself last minute and turning and looking over your shoulder at the siren’s head.

“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” you asked, breathless and only half joking.

He was looking back. You really really got the feeling he was smiling at you.

You tried to push again, since it felt more solid than pulling. Yet everything you tried, the stones dislodged. The ground itself was fighting you. Frustrated, you dug your boot into the stones, trying to dig down and see if there was sand underneath, but there was just more and more loose wet rocks. Like the beach was making fun of you.

... Wait.

You thought back to the hare. Chipping at the ice around its leg.

You let go of him, scurrying back to your bag, then returning just as quickly with your pick in hand. The siren cast you a questioning glance, but still did absolutely nothing to stop your nonsense. Quickly, you dropped to your knees by his side, holding the pick by the head and jamming the wooden handle into the pebbles around where his tail met the floor. They came loose, of course.

You dug fast, using big scooping motions to pull the rocks out further each time. When you found a particularly large and difficult stone you flipped the pick and used the sharp edge to hoist it out of the ground. Seawater would occasionally slip into the gap you’d made, as the tide made the most minute waves you’d ever seen.

Excitedly, you ran around the siren, to dig on the opposite side. You didn’t notice how you ran perfectly within range of his arms, yet you dropped to his other side unharmed.

Your knees hurt. You were certain they’d be bruised. But you kept digging, and digging. You weren’t really doing anything more complex than making a ramp underneath him - but you were excited and flushed nonetheless, tired muscles full of hopeful vigour.

Suddenly, his tail splashed, you felt his whole body moving like an earthquake. You jumped away as far as you could, this time successfully falling flat on your ass - just like that, the siren drew away from you, moving backward into the water as he regained his grip and pushed himself. You were shocked by the speed and agility with which his huge body turned... and how he almost instantly disappeared, under the waves.

Holy shit, you thought, heaving, finally letting go of the pick as you stared out into the rapidly calming waters. It was like he’d never even been there. I actually... I actually did it. I just unbeached a siren. I...

Speaking of waves. Exhaustion, like a sudden tsunami, washed over you. Your shoulders sagged and your knees screamed in pain, you lifted your hands up to your face to see you had great crescents of red irritated skin on your palms. You were probably going to get blisters.

... The cold started to finally twinge at your fingers. You managed to draw yourself up to your feet, but you flopped right back down to your knees once you made it to your bag.

You opened it up, looking for your gloves, a lovely warm feeling filling your chest.

Amongst the dry kit, you saw your camera bag.

...

Wait. Your eyes widened.

... You forgot to take a picture.

Welp - that was the lovely feeling gone. Immediately, you let out a frustrated shout, falling onto your back and putting your hands over your face. You forgot to take a picture. What a fucking moron! You’d just been closer than almost anyone ever to a massive orca siren, and you hadn’t even thought to get your camera out. He’d literally been a sitting duck, you could’ve photographed every side of him, every scar and mark, stars you could’ve filmed a segment for your channel. But the idea hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been so determined to save him.

You’d probably never get another situation like this in your whole life. The universe threw the greatest possible chance at you. And you blew it.

... You dragged your hands down your face, staring up at the mottled sky. It wasn’t yet sunset, but you could tell the sun was beginning to inch toward it. If you wanted to film you’d have to do it right now.

...

... You couldn’t tell anyone back at the station about this. You folded your arm over your eyes. They wouldn’t believe you; they discover your ‘conspiratorial’ beliefs, tease you about it, you leave in a huff and then you conveniently come back a few hours later with an elaborate story about how you unbeached an adult orca siren? Yet strangely, you have absolutely no proof of the matter, despite having a camera on your person the whole time? You weren’t even sure if your followers would believe it. Sure, they’d believe you encountered a siren. But unlike what the rest of the world wanted to think, they absolutely weren’t stupid - they’d be hard pressed to believe you RESCUED the animal and didn’t think to record.

Eventually, you sat up. You were really and truly gutted. But there was no point fretting; not when you had daylight to use.

Might as well just get some of that B-roll.

///---///

Looking at the comments was always nice. When you weren’t busy, and couldn’t get outside, your second favourite thing to do was scroll through the comments on your videos. Of course you always got the occasional idiots who called you nuts, but those were few and far between, most were people being sweet or recounting their own experiences that you always read with complete rapture.

You imagined some might find it hard to believe that being tucked up in your tiny warm station room was your second favourite activity. Walking around in the wind and cold was much more fun. But that, of course, didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy curling up on your desk chair with a blanket and a mug of tea while reading people’s encouraging responses to your passion projects.

You’d only posted your most recent video, the one about your siren encounter, about an hour ago. You scrolled, delighting in the serotonin that came with having an active comment section.

... Eventually, you came across a longer one that caught your eye. You paused sipping your tea to read it.

@bluesaphii1996

I grew up somewhere where we constantly see sirens in our waters. I absolutely believe you saw a siren, because I’m like 99% certain I can see a siren in the sea behind you at 14:51. Look just to the left of your shoulder, about 2/3s of the way between the beach line and the horizon. Its head pops up for a second before it rolls in the water and dives again. Either that or it's a VERY weird seal. But I’ve seen enough sirens to recognise their behaviour. That siren is 100% watching you when your back is turned. Be safe!!

...

You had to read the comment three times over.

Huh? What?

Immediately, sitting up and setting your mug aside, you clicked back over to your video and skipped to the timestamp in question. In that part of the video, you had set up your tripod, and you were talking to the camera with the sea behind you. You stared hard at the screen.

... You weren’t really used to looking at the ocean. You were pretty certain that someone who grew up by the sea would be a lot better at seeing strange movements in the water than you were.

But sure enough, just like the commenter had said, you could just about make out a shape in the water. It broke the surface, then disappeared down again.

You had literally put your hands against that siren. You’d know it anywhere. That was definitely him; watching you from the water, many minutes after you’d rescued him and he could’ve swam far away.

...

You sat back in your chair. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

... Probably not excitement.

You just couldn’t help it. A massive grin was spreading across your face. You were absolutely, utterly delighted.

Despite everything, you did get him on camera!

#commissions #hes a sneaky boy that one #not sneaky enough to not get stuck though apparently #calmest and nicest wild orca sans interaction

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appleblueberry-pie · 4 months

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yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere character #reader #across the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #yandere atsv #yandere atsv x reader #yandere 42 miles x reader #yandere 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #yandere miles x reader #yandere miles morales x reader #yandere miles morales #miles morales imagine

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cherryobx · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || 𝐉.𝐌.

requested?: yep

summary: you go camping with the pogues and share a tent with JJ

warnings: language, kinda creepy forest idk, kissing, fluff and bantering

wc: 2.3k (longest fic i've ever written hell ye)

gif is not mine, creds to the owner!!

“Are you sure you’re okay sharing a tent with JJ?” Kie asked as she handed her bags to Pope who placed them neatly in the back of the van.

You all had collectively made plans to go camping for the weekend although you didn’t really enjoy it. But you had decided to cast your dislike for camping aside and at least try to have fun instead. You and JJ were the only people in the group that we're not dating anyone. John B and Sarah were sharing one and so were Kie and Pope. So you were left with the blonde tan surfer who was too cocky for his own good.

“Why wouldn’t she be? I’m amazing. I’ll even sing you a lullaby, Y/N.” JJ shouted from the front seat. He had called shotgun before Sarah could so now the girl couldn’t sit next to her boyfriend and she was definitely pissed.

“On second thought, no. I think I’ll pass. I’m sure I can find a nice tree to sleep under,” you joked as you handed your stuff to Pope as well and then climbed into John B’s van, sitting next to Sarah who was shooting angry glances at JJ.

“No to sharing a tent with me or the lullaby? You gotta choose.”

“Please, for the love of God, shut up.”

“Someone’s mad,” he mumbled but not so quietly.

“Yeah, dipshit, she’s not the only one,” Sarah chimed in.

Soon everything was packed and ready to go. John B turned on the car and drove in the direction of the campsite you had chosen. It was away from the town, quite private and perfect for a few teens to have fun and let loose.

Once you arrived, John B and JJ started gathering wood to make a fire and the rest of you started setting up the tents and everything you needed for sleeping.

“Okay but seriously if JJ starts to get too annoying you can always come and join us in our tent.”

“He’s always too annoying.”

“I heard that!” JJ yelled from somewhere in the woods making you roll your eyes but chuckle.

You actually didn’t mind sharing a tent with him. And the reason was quite simple really. You liked him, had a crush on him or whatever you want to call it.

You finally acknowledged your feelings for him a couple of years ago when he came back from surfing camp and you realised just how much you had missed him. Plus he had gotten a lot taller over the summer which made you swoon even harder.

But you had known him since literally forever. You couldn't remember a time when he wasn’t in your life. He had always been there. Always supporting you, always cheering you on. If you looked up the definition of “Y/N’s best friend” on the internet pictures of JJ would show up. You were thick as thieves. Partners in crime. The bickering and annoying was your love language, your way of telling each other you cared.

“But don’t worry, I’ll manage. I’ll make sure he smokes a lot so he'll fall asleep as soon as he lays down.”

Your friends laughed and continued the task at hand.

“I think a deadly bug just bit me!” JJ yelled as he ran over to you, dropping all of the gathered wood in the process. John B sighed in the distance as he started picking up after him.

“Show me.” You held out your hand and he placed his in yours, vaguely pointing at the bite. He had his head turned away, not looking at the bite himself.

“How bad is it? How long do I have left? I love you guys.”

“JJ, that’s a mosquito bite.”

He whipped his head around, finally looking at the bite and then you. Everyone laughed at him.

“So I’m not gonna die?”

You shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Only time will tell.”

He gave you a look. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

You giggled. “I do.”

He rolled his eyes and walked over to where John B had started setting up the fireplace while JJ was being dramatic over a mosquito bite. How had this boy made it so far in life was a thing you wondered a lot about.

Finally the tents were set up and everything was ready for the night. Everyone sat around the cozy fire, drinks in hand.

The sky was getting darker by the minute and due to the sun setting the temperature was dropping as well. You didn’t even notice how cold it had gotten until Sarah offered to bring everyone blankets from the van.

“It’s okay, I think we’re gonna go to sleep anyways,” Kie said, Pope nodding in agreement.

Sarah then looked at her boyfriend, you and JJ, eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m good, I’ve got Y/N keeping me warm.” JJ leaned closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder. You ignored the way your heart jumped and pushed him away gently.

“He’s just too embarrassed to say that he wants a blanket. I’ll take one though.”

“If by embarrassed you mean that I’m so hot I don’t even need a blanket then you’re absolutely right.”

“Bring him one,” you said to Sarah who then went to retrieve the said blankets for the 4 of you.

“I don’t want one though.”

“You need one.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Can you guys stop whatever this is and shut up for just a minute?” John B interrupted. “I’m so tired of you two.”

“He’s cranky,” JJ said under his breath for only the two of you to hear. It made you giggle and due to that John B gave you a warning glare.

“Okay, here are your blankets.” Sarah handed you yours but threw JJ’s into his face.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“For annoying the shit out of us.” She sat next to John be and he helped her wrap a blanket around the both of them.

JJ gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you!? Y/N tell me she’s lying.”

“I have to agree with her on this one. You are kind of annoying.”

“I can’t believe this. My own friends hurting me like this.”

You shoved a stick and a marshmallow into his hands. “Stop being dramatic and roast this marshmallow for me, please.”

“And now I’m your slave. You’re unbelievable,” he said but still put the marshmallow on the stick and started roasting it for you.

“Your hands are longer than mine. Plus why should I do it when you can do it for me.”

Sarah agreed. “She makes a fair point.”

JJ handed you your marshmallow which was roasted just how you liked it. But before you could take a bite he leaned over and bit half of the marshmallow off the stick.

You looked at him in disbelief. “Hey!”

He smiled at you sheepishly, mouth full of the candy and lips covered with it. “That’s what you get for bullying me.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

He munched on the candy but you could still see the smirk on his face. “You love me.”

“You ate half of my marshmallow, I’ve never hated you more.”

In the corner of your eye you saw Sarah whisper something in John B’s ear and then they stood up, blanket still tightly wrapped around them.

“We’re going to our tent as well. Good night!”

“Good night!”

“I can’t believe these idiots are all going to sleep so early. Relationships turn you into old people, I guess.”

“It’s almost midnight, JJ.”

“So? That should be like 6 pm for us.”

You fell into comfortable silence as you roasted some more marshmallows on the dying fire which would soon turn into a smoking pile of ashes.

Suddenly you heard a noise in the woods. It was like a stick had snapped in half. It startled you to say the least. Your head snapped in the direction of where you thought you heard the sound coming from.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That sound.”

“What sound?”

You slapped your hand over his mouth as another snap came from somewhere. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come in the first place,” you whispered.

He licked the inside of your hand which made you pull it away from his mouth in disgust. “Ew, JJ.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean like spending the night in the woods. It’s scary as hell. Someone’s out there right now, just looking at us, taunting us. It could be a murderer or some creep, you know.”

“Or a squirrel.”

“Or a bear.”

“Or a rat.”

“I don’t honestly know which would be worse right now.”

“Rat, obviously. Those little shits ruin everything. But seriously, it’s probably nothing. Just the forest doing its own thing.” JJ said and placed his warm hand on your blanket-covered thigh. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture but you couldn’t help but wonder if it could mean something more.

“I don’t wanna be out here and find out what that thing is though.”

As hard as it was, you stood up, his hand falling from your thigh back to his own lap, and pulled the blanket around yourself as tight as possible. You got chills from the slight fear you had but also the cold that was crawling under your skin making you shiver.

JJ threw some water into the fire pit to make sure the fire had completely died out. He then stood up too and followed you to your shared tent where you were already waiting for him.

“Hurry up. I don’t wanna be out here any longer.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, trust me. The scariest thing here is that ugly t-shirt you’re wearing.”

He zipped open the tent and let you enter it first but followed you close behind, careful not to let any bugs in.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“It’s ugly.”

“Fine, if it’s bothering you too much, I’ll take it off.” You grabbed the end of your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing the bikini top you were wearing underneath.

You couldn’t see much in the dark tent but just enough to see JJ’s eyes linger on your figure a second too long.

He cleared his throat before he asked if you wouldn’t be too cold now.

“I have all these blankets,” you pointed at the pile next to you, “I think I’ll be fine.”

You were in fact not fine as the time passed. It had gotten so cold that you couldn’t feel your fingers or your toes anymore. And you were pretty sure that your lips had turned blue.

“I can hear your teeth clattering all the way to here.”

“Why aren’t you asleep already?”

“How am I supposed to fall asleep in a tent with a fucking woodchuck?”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just call me a woodchuck and try to get some sleep.”

You turned your back to him and curled yourself into a little ball to keep warm as much as possible.

A few minutes later you felt the pile of blankets on top of you lift and then JJ joining you under them.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm. I do not want to be taking care of you when you get sick.” You turned around under the blankets to face him. He pulled you closer to him. Your feet automatically intertwining with his.

“Jesus, woman! Your toes are cold as ice.”

You giggled at his reaction. “You should feel my hands.”

And so he did. “How the fuck are you this cold?”

“I don’t know.”

You snuggled closer even closer to him, inhaling his scent. “You smell good.” You didn’t even mean to say it but it just slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“And you were worried about there being creeps in the woods while the biggest creep of them all is right here beside me.”

“It’s not creepy, JJ.”

“Says the creep herself.”

You smacked his bare chest lightly as you chuckled.

“Please, keep those ice cubes away from me, Elsa,” he said, which made you place both of your hands flat onto his chest. He hissed at the contact of your cold hands.

“Why do you enjoy torturing me?”

“It’s fun.”

“I think you just enjoy torturing people in general.”

“Nope, just you.” Your voice got just a tiny bit quieter but he could tell. He could always see the slightest changes in your behaviour and appearance.

And he was slowly piecing everything together.

“Okay then, we’ll see if you enjoy this.” He hoped to God he was right about this.

You were about to ask him what he meant but you were cut off by his lips crashing into yours. You were caught off-guard for a second because, well, he kissed you. JJ Maybank kissed you. You had been waiting for this for so long that your brain just short-circuited. But luckily you composed yourself quickly and kissed him back.

Your hands flew into his hair and you pulled him flush against you, chest to chest. There was no room left between you two.

You had imagined about this many times before but none of the fantasies were as good as the real deal. He was kissing you with so much passion and emotion that there was no way that he thought of you as just his best friend. You were sure of it.

When you finally broke the kiss so you could breathe again, he rested his forehead against yours. A small gesture but it made your heart skip a beat.

“I very much enjoyed that.”

“Good. Did you enjoy that?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue

{ head, heart, hand. masterpost }

Summary: Oliver is haunted by what he's done to get his happy ending in Felix's arms. His guilt is only made worse when he meets the first member of your family to actually remind him of you. Unfortunately, he does not find it to get better from there.

{ context; please read he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) first }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD IN THIS ONE, but you do get to haunt the narrative. congratulations?

Warnings: discussions of death/overdose, lots of guilt, manipulative oliver, felix being upset, vaguely unhealthy oliver/felix, lotsa angst, oliver quick reckoning with the sunk-cost fallacy.

A/N: 6828 words. first, i don't usually do part 2s when i say something is a oneshot, so this is a rare occurrence. secondly im sorry this is almost 7k there's something wrong with my brain i think. thirdly bro, bro, listen to me; ANGST. HURT NO COMFORT. HURT NO COMFORT. it's soft in the middle THE SOFTNESS IS A LIE. ITS GONNA HURT ALL THE WAY DOWN (apart from nana i love her nd i hope you will too)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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One hour and fifty three minutes.

Rounded up, because all things considered, he should round it up, that's two hours.

Two hours. Like the blink of an eye in the scope of a whole life. But a very long time when you sit and count it out.

One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand, two hundred seconds. He's always counting two hours, seeing exactly how long it feels like, how he can fill that amount of time. Seconds pass like a steady heartbeat.

He can do a lot in two hours.

Oliver tries to occupy himself nowadays more than ever, and really tries not to be alone, but it's hard. Farleigh left for Oxford. Venetia, before she decided to backpack across Europe and find herself, wouldn't let anyone touch her anymore.

Oliver doesn't like leaving Felix alone, but sometimes he has to be. You're laying cold in a family crypt somewhere next to a grandfather you never knew, and while Elspeth and Sir James don't comment on it, they both scowled when your parents sprung the announcement on everyone at the funeral.

Felix spends a lot of time alone at the edge of the maze. He's making a fairy garden where you had waited. Sometimes he'll drive into town without telling anyone, and come back with quaint, second-hand miniatures to add. It's beautiful, shining with greens and golds when the setting sun hits it just right.

So Oliver finds time to occupy himself, when he's alone and all he can think about is you sitting by the maze. You laying by the maze. You alive when he'd run from the maze. And the two hours that followed.

Sometimes he leans out of his window and shouts to the gardeners so far away they look like ants; even at this distance, his voice carries, and he sees them turn, search for him, ask if he's okay. He is, and he apologises, and he think about how far his voice carries.

On occasion, out of the blue, he'll lift Felix up when he hugs him, able to get his feet off the ground as Felix wriggles and clutches him out of surprise. Of course Felix lifts him with ease in return, spins him around, but that's not the point. Oliver is stronger than he looks; he wonders if he could lift you, could carry you far, if he could have dragged you if it had come to it.

Some nights he wakes up in a fright, your rapid heart rate beneath his fingers and he swears he could hear you whispering for help amid your shallow breathing. Please. Pleading. Begging. You were alive when he'd left you. He presses two finger to Felix's pulse point beside him, and tries to calm his breathing, to focus on Felix's slow, steady heartbeat.

And some days he sneaks into the computer room and curses how long webpages take to load when he looks up statistics on overdoses. Symptoms. Niche forums where he can learn what it felt like from survivors. People luckier than you. Their words, their stories, the recollections of those horrifying sensations stick with him, even as he diligently erases any trace of his browsing history.

And he thinks about how fucking long two hours is.

"Nan's coming over later," Felix tells Oliver idly one Sunday afternoon, "we're having tea of you'd like to join us." They're laying out in the grass, Oliver in the grass finding shapes in the clouds, Felix on his side, chewing on the stick of a lollypop he'd finished an hour ago and gently tracing abstract patterns on Oliver's chest.

"I thought you said your granny haunted Saltburn," when Oliver looks at Felix, he still can't help the way his heartrate picks up. Felix Catton touching him in the most gentle, caring way; he'd never stop feeling lucky for getting here, and never forget what he did to earn it.

Felix's gaze moves with his fingertips, up Oliver's warm, bare chest, twisting two fingers in the delicate chain around his throat. He looks pensive; but shakes his head after a beat.

"Different nan," he says distractedly, plastic straw trapped between his teeth. He tugs the chain experimentally, like he's forgotten it's attached to Oliver at all. He's in his head again; Felix is always in his head nowadays, but there's still often echoes of who he was, echoes of what Oliver has fallen for in the first place.

And he's finding himself falling more and more for this version of Felix too. So he tell himself that it was all worth it.

"Love," all these pet names - Love, Darling, Sweetheart - because if he slips up, tries to call him Fi, Oliver knows he'll only get ice in return, "is everything okay?" Oliver carefully reaches up to cover Felix's large, warm hand by his throat with his own. Felix meets his gaze, and gives a faint smile, an attempt to reassure him when he says he's fine. It doesn't work, but Oliver lets it go, and lets Felix tug him in by his chain for a kiss.

"Tea sounds lovely," Oliver murmurs against his lips.

There's something about this visit has Felix alive and buzzing the he way he hasn't in a very long time. Still he's quiet, but his eyes are bright as he follows behind the staff members setting up tea and biscuits in the garden. He goes through all the DVDs the family has and picks out a stack he thinks would be suitable, making sure they're all perfectly stacked by the DVD player. Oliver floats along behind him, and simply allows himself to admire Felix's energy.

Still, Felix finally takes a moment to breathe right as it becomes noon, and decides to have a bath to freshen up before his guest's arrival; two hours before she'd be here, Felix reminds him.

Two hours.

Oliver feels drawn to his own room. He doesn't allow himself to be alone in Saltburn often anymore, doesn't like the thoughts that crop up when he does. Perhaps it's a kind of punishment, a painful reminder, penance for what he's done.

There's a scrap of paper that he keeps tucked in a book in his nightstand, his own handwriting stuffed amongst a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories, words he'd clung to and scribbled out the minute he'd gotten the chance so he'd never forget them exactly.

From the coroner's report, according to Duncan and Sir James. Time of Death; around 2am. Cause; narcotics overdose, and there were signs of alcohol poisoning.

On the back, he'd written '12:07'.

"Mum and dad both say it was a tragic accident," Felix's voice in the dead of night, the night they'd gotten the full report, riddled with guilt and unspilled tears, betrays his disbelief regarding the sentiment. Felix doesn't talk about how his last words to you were shouted with anger. Felix doesn't talk about how your last words to him were a desperate plea for him through tears. Felix doesn't think that it was an accident; only Oliver knows that he's almost right, just not in the way he thinks. Or dreads. But he has to bite his tongue on the truth, and let the man he loves live with this unjust guilt.

The water starts loudly draining for the tub, and Oliver isn't sure how long he's been sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut, but he scrambles to stuff the page back into the book, and toss it back into it's drawer. He can smile again, and admire whatever outfit Felix chooses for the rest of the day, and pretend like he doesn't feel your rapid heartbeat or hear your shallow breathing every time he touches that paper, like he had the night he left you.

With the hour drawing ever closer to two, Felix keeps checking his watch. The minute he deems it to be time, he gives up all pretence of small talk - which had been another thing severely lacking as of late - and snatches Oliver's hand, pulling him through the house. They even outstripped Duncan and the footmen by the door when there comes a firm knock. Its the only time Oliver has ever seen any of the Cattons open the doors for themselves.

And it's not Felix's grandmother.

"Hi, nan," Felix sounds so genuinely happy as he hugs the older woman at the door with a warm smile and your eyes.

Oliver feels like he's frozen, like he's seeing a ghost. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Duncan actually standing aside, giving Felix and your grandmother a quietly fond smile.

"I swear you get taller every time I see you, oh, my lovely boy," she says with a warm laugh that sounds so damn familiar, "or maybe I've been shrinking, you get to my age and people tend to do that," and Felix laughs, actually fucking laughs. Oliver realises it's been a long time since he'd heard Felix give a proper laugh like that. As the hug ends, Felix let's her tuck her arm in his as she continues, "just you wait, one day you'll only be six-foot tall." Another laugh, and Oliver can see how genuine and broad he's smiling, how his eyes shine when their gazes meet. She's surprisingly sprightly for her age, it seems. Oliver recognises your grandmother from your funeral, but hadn't made the connection at the time, so he's surprised when Felix goes to introduce him and her eyes sparkle with recognised.

"Nan, I don't know if you've been properly introduced, but this is -"

"Your Darling, Oliver," and it's said with such warmth; her hug feels almost like home, "you strange, little thing," she laughs, "it's called a hug; are you not a hugger? I should have asked," but she doesn't apologise, nor does she let go for a few more beats. Oliver gives into this moment, closes his eyes tightly and hugs her back.

"Our Darling Oliver," Felix echoes with such admiration, and when Oliver opens his eyes, it's the first time since you'd passed where his gaze has held only the love and pride Oliver had been craving since he'd first laid eyes on him.

Once Nana - she'd insisted Oliver call her that too - lets him go, she tucks her arm in his, and is waving Felix over to her other side, briskly asking where tea was to be held. Duncan leads the way and she fawns over him too, apparently downright overflowing with love for Saltburn and everyone and everything in it. She talks more than she doesn't, but considering who Oliver is and who Felix has become, that suits them both just fine.

It's been too long since they've had tea together, she insists, and doesn't talk about why exactly that would be. She doesn't bring you up, not while you were all making your way through the house, but once she's settled outside, she takes a moment. The way she looks at Oliver in this moment makes him queasy; the smile, that look in her eyes, the way her gaze takes all of him in. A woman, whose time is so precious to her, taking her time to make him feel seen. Felix is quiet, intrigued by the exchange.

Your phantom heart beats beneath Oliver's fingertips.

"You're Y/N's grandma," Oliver says quietly, breaking the tension. Present tense still, they all play pretend. She smiles, and finally leans back. The moment is broken; Felix pours them each a cup of tea. Nana takes a jammy dodger and looks over the gardens with a smile.

"Of course, dear," she says sincerely, taking a bite of the biscuit, but being so eager to talk that she spoke through half a mouthful, "and when they were thirteen they told me I was Felix's grandmother too, because they'd overheard Felix's mum talking about how she hoped they'd get married some day." Felix snorted a laugh at that, turning pink around the ears as he prepared everyone's tea, as if on autopilot.

"Does that -" Oliver begins awkwardly, but he tries to smile, "do you think in time, they would have ask the same of you about me?"

"Considering how they spoke about you," there's a twinkle in your Nan's eyes as she turns back to him, smile knowing, "there's absolutely no doubt in my mind, my dear." All you had ever done was love him; love him and stand in the way of the love he desperately craved.

Oliver watches his tea for a long while, spinning the ornate cup on its matching saucer, while your Nana almost immediately picked hers up and took a tentative sip. Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver notes the way her face goes on a journey of emotions, from pleased, to confused, to a sudden realisation as she looks to her cup.

"I should have asked you how you liked your tea," Felix realises too late, apology in his voice as Nana puts her cup down with a forlorn, yet fond look.

"No, darling, it's nice to know you know how my grandchild liked their tea," and she holds her cup delicately, looking into it's warm, brown depths, "just the same as I always made it for both of us when they were much, much younger."

"I am so sorry to ask," Oliver hears himself blurt out, unable to help himself, "but how does all this love just skip a generation?" It comes out far worse than he intends it to; he means to ask how someone so loving as you come from parents so uncaring, yet how did either of those parents turn out the way they did when the woman in front of him was clearly bursting with just as much love as you had been. Thankfully, instead of being offended, your grandmother laughs.

"My daughter is a wonderful, intelligent, compassionate, impressive woman," she begins, but sighs with unmistakable disappointment, "but my late husband was never capable of even trying to be a father over pursuing his own interests, and it's one of the few traits she actually inherited from him," she shook her head, "and she went on to fall in love with a man who loved her but suffered from that exact same defect," after a beat, she looked up with a warm, reassuring smile, "it's why I love Y/N so fiercely, and so hard," her grin turns soft and adoring, looking between the two boys before her, "the only way my daughter has ever disappointed me is as a mother, but I will never be disappointed in Y/N as my grandchild."

Oliver knows there's tears in his eyes, and Felix has ducked his head. Immediately Nan begins apologising, realising she'd set both of them off. Despite this, Oliver tries to wave her away, insisting it's fine, before he asks about her; he's heard bits and pieces he thinks, but Y/N had always been so cagey about their family. Honestly he's surprised that your grandmother knows so much about him when he feels like he's barely heard about her.

Despite turning out to be an incredibly decorated artist, with paintings selling for more than Oliver's pretty sure his own family's house is worth, your Nana is quick to downplay her own successes, simply insisting that it took decades of hard work. Again, he sees you in her eyes.

"We've got a few up around the house," Felix adds, "most of them actually from before we even met Y/N," and your Nana gives him a shove, as if flustered and embarrassed by the idea. But Felix is beaming, happy to be showing off her accomplishments, just as he always took joy in celebrating you; "there's one in your room."

"What?" Oliver asked, and your grandmother also seemed surprised, though touched by the thought.

"It used to be their room, actually, but Ollie moved in there, so Y/N was staying with me," he explains a little awkwardly, wanting to skim around as many implications as he could. Thankfully she doesn't comment. All she asks is which one. Felix and Oliver both think about the room; Felix about the few pieces of art on the walls, Oliver about your time of death in the drawer. You were alive when he left you -

"That one of the stars, and that person smoking; I think you actually gave it to them as a gift," he frowns for a beat, "for when they turned seventeen, I think?"

Oh, Oliver knows that one. It's enchanting, blues so deep, so rich it's like you could swim in them, stars that seemed to actually glow on the canvas, and the hazy, dark outline of the window in the foreground, and part of a figure against the windowsill, lit cigarette the lone spot of fire, of red or orange, that makes everything else warmer for it.

"That one really surprised me actually," Nana admits, giving Felix a shrew smile, though he only seems confused, "did they ever tell you anything about it?"

"Said you painted it for them; pretty sure I remember them crying about it," he says fondly, reminiscing, "one of the best gifts they ever got, I'm not lying, they say it every year. It's beautiful." Then, as if recalling what she'd actually said, he looks at her curiously, "surprised you?"

Her smile widened into something both knowing, and endeared.

"I asked them to send me a photo, a postcard, their very best drawing, anything, as long as it was their favourite place in the world - do you really not recognise it?" The tea and biscuits are gone by now, the tea portion of their afternoon is coming to a close. Felix shook his head, almost looking like a lost child, as if he was aware there was something he was supposed to be understanding but couldn't quite get it, "Felix, my dear boy, they sent me a photo of you; that's their dorm room window from boarding school."

Felix looks winded, and a bit like he's about to cry.

"Oh you two were impossibly sweet," she reaches over and holds his hand tightly, looking over to Oliver earnestly, "you take care of this dear boy and his heart, you hear me?"

"Yes," Oliver all but trips over his words to agree, "of course, nan." And she gives him a pleased grin.

They move indoors after this, Felix quiet but lending his arm to Nana, which she takes, while she explained that usually you and Felix would visit a few times a year when they were on break, but she thought it would be best to come to Saltburn this time, given the circumstances.

"You should come see the place when you get the chance," she insisted, patting Oliver's hand.

"It's mostly where Y/N was raised before they ended up staying at Saltburn," Felix supplied with a grin, piquing Oliver interest.

"Y/N's childhood home? Oh I have to see that," he grins, and your grandmother grins brightly for a long moment.

"I'm sure Y/N would love that, they can give you the grand tour -" but her face falters, falls, as if she'd just remembered. Sombre silence, the spell is broken. "I'd love to have you around, dear," she corrects, much softer this time.

Felix lets her pick a movie, while Oliver settles himself awkwardly on the sofa. He wants to reach out to Felix, to touch his cheek, feel his boyish smile and know that it's real. But Felix isn't really even looking at him. There's something childlike about his enthusiasm here, about how he sits on his knees on the floor, watching with rapt attention as your grandmother pores over them. He practically glows as she praises his choices. When she picks one, she hands it over and he scrambles on all fours across the short floor space to the DVD player, fumbling with the case like he can't put it in fast enough. There's a softness in your grandmother's eyes as she watches the boy who has seemingly forgotten the man he is; when she looks at Oliver, its like he sees her asking how easy is he to adore, what a beautiful young man.

"You don't mind watching a movie do you, Oliver, dear?" She asks, though it's clearly an afterthought. He's already shaking his head, assuring her it's fine. Felix is already scrambling back, remote in hand. Oliver tries to make space for him on the sofa between himself and your Nana, but he seems content to sit on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa with her knees gently pressed against either of his shoulders. Handing her the remote, Felix twists to give Oliver an expectant smile.

"Come here, mate," he insists, patting his lap, his legs kicked out in front of him. At Oliver's obvious confusion, Felix blinks for a few moments. It's like he's waking from a dream. His face falls, he goes to apologise, strained smile on his face, "sorry, I know that's weird, you don't have to -"

Slowly, Oliver moves from the sofa, sitting beside Felix on the floor. Your grandmother's knee is pressed gently to his back, but he's not quite sure if he's capable of relaxing enough in this moment to mind. She's playing with Felix's hair, having already started the movie.

"This is what you and Y/N would do," Oliver said softly, and rested his head on Felix's shoulder. Felix takes his hand, and laces their fingers together.

"Do you like it when people play with your hair, Oliver?" Your grandmother asks idly.

"Um, sometimes," he answers, still feeling rather awkward. He hears her chuckle warmly.

"It's okay if you don't want me to; Felix likes it so much he lets me braid it when it's long like this."

"Oh, I know Felix loves it," Oliver hears himself agree, "if he were a cat he'd be the kind to purr any time someone scratched between his little cat ears." And while both he and your grandmother share a fond laugh, he can hear Felix's smile in his words. He gives Oliver's hand a squeeze.

"I can't even argue; I wish I could purr right now."

Oliver wants to bottle this moment forever, keep it locked tight in his chest.

But the movie is a long one. One hour and fifty six minutes. Two hours rounded up. A whole two hours. Enough time to fall asleep with his head in Felix's lap the way they both said you used to. He wakes with your heartbeat in his ears, rapid, alive, left for dead.

"You okay buddy?" Felix looks at him with genuine love and concern; it's been such a long time since he'd seen that look, even with everything that had been happening, "I'm here, you're okay," he assured. Over by the television, putting the remote back, your grandmother glances over at the interaction with a warmth that makes Oliver feel queasy in this moment.

And he'll look up from the book, from his notes from the coroner's report crammed in, obscuring the end of one story while The Tell-Tale Heart begins on the other. Felix will be getting ready for bed in the other room, but he won't sleep there. He can't sleep there. Can't sleep in that bed without you, can't move the costumes from that night that hang side by side as a reminder of the hole you'd left behind in his life. Oliver will read approximately two am in his own messy handwriting, and look at the digital clock on his bedside that had read 12:07 when he'd crashed into his room and locked the door and sunk down against it. The numbers had been shining red in the darkness. On the wall behind, that starry night sky and the hint of Felix and his cigarette; a home you'll never return to hung up in the home you'll never truly leave.

He put enough coke in that bottle to kill a fucking lion. He'd given you the bottle. He'd told you he loved you. He'd left you like that.

He knew you were dying.

He'd left you alive.

Two hours.

The book snaps shut. In the silence he thinks he hears your breathing. Please, Ollie, help. Paranoia is a cruel thing, he has to tell himself; paranoia and guilt.

"Can I ask you something?" Felix joins him just as he's putting the book back in it's drawer. Oliver, heart beat racing - never as fast as the memory of yours, oh now it's all he can think about again - nods quickly. Felix sits on the end of the bed, clearly preoccupied, fussing with the buttons of his pyjama shirt. The days are getting cooler now; Oliver misses his bare skin against his, but he still feels too precarious to make such an observation.

"It's about Y/N," Felix swallows, can't meet his eyes, "about that night." Oliver feels his mouth go dry; the worst fucking night of his life. The night he doesn't know if he'll ever figure out if he regrets all he'd done.

He nods again.

"Were you the last person they spoke to?" It's like Felix is forcing himself to not shy away from this moment, giving Oliver the attention he thinks he deserves for such an important question. Then, after swallowing hard, he can't help but drop his gaze, "why," he can barely get it out, there's already a lump in his throat, "didn't they come into the maze too?" Oliver can't even give him that.

You'd been such a mess on your way to the maze, even with Oliver supporting you. Crying, furious, apologetic; you were everything at once. Even when you couldn't bring yourself to go in, everything about you had been sliding from one emotion to the next. But then it had stopped.

"I can wait for Fi here." It's the most sure that he'd seen you all night. It's when he knew. It had to be you, even if he loved you too. He'd never forget how clear your smile was, how sincere you'd urged him into the maze to follow the tail of what he thought was right. The sight of you, waiting, obedient and loyal for your master to return; "I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

Oliver knew before he'd even entered the maze that Felix's return to you would be too late.

In the present, Felix waits too, diligent, expectant. Oliver thinks about lying. Oliver thinks about how the truth will break his heart. Oliver thinks about how close Felix will hold him in his guilt riddled grief.

"I don't think they wanted to interrupt -" Oliver tries to start, but Felix immediately swears, hangs his head.

"Can't fucking believe I did that," he spits, "I was angry, and off my fucking face, sure, but that was fucking low, even for me," he admitted, pitching himself back on the bed, whole face scrunched up with guilt, barking out an upset fuck far louder than the others, prompting to Oliver to tentatively ask what he means. Felix took a moment, as if forcing himself to calm down, before he admits, voice low like he was sharing a secret, "I never even took Eddie into the maze," he sighed. After a beat, he conceded, "no, okay I did, but we didn't do anything - we made out a bit, but -"

"You didn't fuck you ex-boyfriend in the maze," Oliver connected the dots quickly, "but you did fuck your best friend's ex-not-girlfriend who you kind of stole from them, out of spite after kicking them out of your the bed you've been sharing all Summer?"

"Fucking hell, Ollie!" Felix sounds especially wounded when he lays it all out like that.

"Sorry," immediately, Oliver apologises, knot in his stomach when he hears Felix's pained tone. He wonders if this was what it was like for you all through the night of his birthday. Fuck, he can't think about that.

"No, but you're right," Felix admits, eyes finally opening, looking all hurt and vulnerable. Oliver lays himself down next to Felix, going the other way, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Oliver's hands rest on his chest, trying again, softer this time.

"So was a special place to them?" He gets no response other than a guilty nose from Felix, "you think that's why they wanted to wait by the entrance?"

"They wanted to wait for me," Felix says weakly, clearly in his head about that night once more, "didn't want to interrupt even as I was fucking defiling our-" but he catches himself turning bitter again, mouth snapping closed, "after everything I said that night," he mumbles, "fucking hell," he chokes out. The pain in his voice is audible. This is the sweet spot, Oliver thinks.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver whispers amid Felix's faint sobs.

"What?"

"You asked me what their last words were," Oliver told him as softly as he could manage; Felix sits up, eyes wide, distraught, so full of guilt and love and - "only thing they were properly coherent about; waiting for you," Oliver props himself up, reaches out to wipe a tear from Felix's cheek.

"You're not- Ollie, please tell me you're not kidding," Felix practically begs.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver reiterates, making sure to meet Felix's gaze as he holds his face, "'s the last thing they said- they said; I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

God he can see it in Felix's eyes; it's like the man's entire world crashes down around him. But he clings just as Oliver had hoped he would. As Felix holds him tightly, Oliver can't look at the glaring, red numbers of the clock on his bedside, the constant reminder of the two hours where he could have done something. Two hours and those wouldn't have been your last words.

He looks at the painting. At the stars. At Felix and his cigarette and your idea of what home looks like. The stars look just like they did that night. Just as bright. Oliver closes his eyes. Guilt twists people into shapes they don't often recognise; Oliver just holds Felix, hopes they twist into something together.

Except Oliver's guilt isn't the kind that twists, it's the kind that bites. It's like moths, eating him from the inside out. The guilt leaves him with jagged edges and thoughts he'd rather not be having; there are shades of Felix Catton that he loves, but shame and revulsion bites just behind the guilt as the months pass and he realises more and more this is not what he wanted. This is not the Felix he wanted.

Felix is like an echo, like the sun without it's warmth; he can look just the same, smile, talk, charm just the same if it was required of him, but there was something clearly missing from every interaction. Guests to Saltburn would pull his parents aside and ask if everything was alright. He is, but he is not the same as he once was.

Every day Oliver looks in the mirror and sees something grotesque behind his eyes that no-one else seems to notice. Felix Catton was meant to be the prize, the one who tossed aside everything but the best, the one who made the world fight for his attention, and feel heartbroken when he merely looked the other way. After all this, Felix Catton was not someone Oliver expected to be bored by.

Oliver Quick had lied for, lied to, betrayed the trust of, worked to gain the trust back of, loved, made fall in love with him, and literally murdered the love of his life who he also loved and was themselves also in love with Oliver while still considering Felix the love of their life, just to get a chance to spend his life by Felix fucking Catton's side. He wasn't allowed to not want this.

Felix smiles at him, says he loves him, fucks him, but it's not the dream Oliver once had. Something is always missing. No. Oliver deliberately took that thing away. But he can never admit that, nor can he ever regret that; too far gone. Oliver doesn't want to talk about the past, Felix can't being himself to talk about the future. Trapped together in the present, living lives that no longer feel like enough. Their routine becomes suffocating. Even Venetia, the few times she's stopped back at Saltburn, can barely manage a disdainful look, as if merely inconvenienced by Oliver's presence.

The growing apathy of the estate and it's occupants is exhausting. The cost of this lifestyle has long since surpassed it's value. He's even bored of being haunted. Two hours feels like fucking nothing when the days drag on the way they have been. Behind his eyelids he doesn't see you begging for help, you hiss for him to run, to get out.

He should have listened.

"Ollie, can I show you something I found?" Felix sounds bright today, and though Oliver wants to roll his eyes at the idea of anything in this house being new or novel enough to show off, he smiles back instead.

"'course Felix, what is it?"

Except Felix isn't smiling at him. Felix is looking far more serious and determined, sitting on the edge of their shared bed. Oliver immediately frowns.

"Have you been hiding something from me, Ollie?" It's a trap; a forced confession. Oliver shakes his head, plays dumb. Felix takes a deep breath, the kind that shifts his whole body, his expression remaining firm, "before I show you this thing, I want you to be honest with me; you promised you wouldn't lie to me anymore, you remember?" Oliver tries to lighten the mood, leaning against the window with a warm smile.

"Of course, my lovely Felix, no more lying," he assures, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with the way Felix remains quiet.

"What's seven-past-twelve mean?" Felix is watching him closely; too closely. Scrutinising his every move. It's like Oliver's been doused in ice water, even his tongue frozen in his mouth, "and what's it got to do with what happened on the night of your birthday?"

Felix doesn't even look at the night table as he opens it; his gaze is solely on Oliver. It's clear he'd done this before, pulling out the book, flicking through it's pages, and pulling the delicate, incriminating piece of paper out from where it had been safe for so many months.

"Felix, I-"

"What does twelve-oh-seven mean?"

Oliver is the deer again, trapped in Felix's accusatory gaze. For just a moment, Felix's voice drops, pleading with him for some other explanation, that Oliver wasn't somehow caught up in what happened, more closely, more malevolently than he'd ever said -

"Tell me," there's tears in his eyes, the furious kind, the ones where he's desperate to love and hope against all odds, "Oliver," he pleads through gritted teeth, "tell me you didn't know."

"Know what?" Oliver's voice is a hoarse whisper; he knows he is caught, all he has left now is borrowed time and a desperately silver tongue he doesn't know if he can rely on anymore. But Oliver's tragically weak denial is enough for Felix to all but jump to the right conclusion.

In a rush, Felix has Oliver by the collar of his shirt, pressed to the window -

"You knew they were dying and you fucking left them there."

This is the tipping point, the end of whatever good this had been. Felix could hurt him, Felix had hurt countless people on your behalf, he'd seen it himself. But Felix had always been the bleeding heart; you were the one who had to be kept on a leash. Felix could hurt him, could probably maim him for what Oliver was about to say, but he never shared your stomach for true Machiavellianism.

"Of course I knew," Oliver managed coldly, despite Felix attempting to crush all the air from him, "the amount of coke I gave them in that champagne could have killed a rhino-" it needed to be unforgiveable, the confession, so Felix would let him leave, would never want to see him again. He hadn't expected the force of Felix's rage to have the glass behind him give out.

Oliver falls from the second story window into the hedge garden below. Felix's shouting is tearing through the whole house it seemed, making his way downstairs, while Oliver tries to regain his breath and figure out if anything's broken. He's pretty sure it's not, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt as Felix drags him by his feet from the hedges, demanding at the top of his lungs that Oliver get the fuck out of Saltburn.

Every single person who'd been in the house comes outside to view the commotion, to see Oliver struggling to his feet, to get away from Oliver. Elspeth looks helplessly between the two boys, wondering what happened -

"Tell her what you did," Felix demanded, once more getting into Oliver's space, jabbing at his chest, "tell her what the fuck you just told me -" and Oliver's strength isn't insignificant, but Felix is in a fury, flooded with rage and adrenaline, and he grabs the back of Oliver's shirt like he's scuffing a cat, shoving him towards his mother like an offering. Oliver struggles because he feels like he has to, feels wild, feels feral, but it's the most of anything he's gotten from Felix in so long. His mouth stays shut, won't give him the satisfaction of a confession.

"He killed them," Felix doesn't even let Oliver have his power play before he grows bored. He shoves Oliver just a little, grip unyielding despite Oliver's best efforts, like he means nothing to him. Elspeth and Sir James are confused, looking between them both, but Felix isn't done with stringing Oliver up for all of Saltburn to see, "Y/N; he intentionally dosed their drink and left them to die outside the maze."

The Catton parents immediately look crestfallen; it's the first time in months Oliver's felt genuine guilt again. Oliver stops fighting. Felix lets him go. Elspeth asks him if this is true; that heartbroken hope is going to make him sick.

"Just send me away already," he drops his head.

"Oliver," Elspeth's voice is firmer this time; when he looks up, she's stepping towards him, tears in her eyes despite how hard she's clearly trying to hold herself together, "is Felix telling the truth?" Is this it? Is this the final gate to his freedom from Saltburn.

"Yes."

Elspeth slaps him so hard her ring draws blood. Oliver hadn't thought that was even possible, but his head is ringing from the collision.

"Get. Out." She hisses with absolute malice as he's hunched over, clutching his face. Felix is by his mother's side in a heartbeat, arm around her, looking at Oliver with contempt. Behind them, Sir James is ordering Duncan and the other staff members to get Oliver off of the property as quickly as possible, but the look in Elspeth's eyes is burning, "this is my family, you monster."

At first, it almost feels worth it to leave Saltburn. To leave the Cattons and their bullshit and their games behind. He thinks he knows them well enough to trust that they don't want the kind of scandal a murder on their hands would be, and for the most part, he's right.

It's not the Cattons who haunt him after Saltburn, though they may be pulling the strings. It's you. It's you sitting on Felix's bed in his dorm room reading every single detail of Michael Gavey's file with threats on your tongue. It's the casual way you talked about being able to access his academic files to change his grades if he wanted. It's you, tipsy at Saltburn, admitting that you got Eddie transferred without his consent to a university on the other side of the country after he cheated on Felix with Venetia.

There's no place for Oliver to return to at Oxford... He's not entirely surprised about that, however, there's also apparently no record of him ever attending. Any calls or enquiries he makes are shut down with the kind of immediacy that seemed reserved for shows about government conspiracies. When applications open for other universities, it seems websites shut down the minute he fills out his damn name. Nowhere in the world seems willing to consider him.

Having him audited seems like overkill. When it happens the next year, despite no employer willing to even consider him for an interview, the existential dread of his situation sets in.

Felix never had the stomach to finish the job; he'd let you haunt Oliver forever.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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waitimcomingtoo · 6 months

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SLUT!

chapter five: don’t say I didn’t warn you

Series Masterlist

The first time you walked onto campus holding hands with Peter, it caught some attention. Your school was small enough that a reputation like yours was pretty well known around campus so now that you and Peter were public, people took notice.

“Everyone is staring at us.” You whispered to him and he could tell you were feeling self conscious.

“Well you look really pretty today. So they might as well be looking at us.” Peter replied. He could see you smile at that and knew he had just passed his first test as a boyfriend.

“This is just like that scene in Twilight.” You said as you passed through a group on onlookers.

“Which scene?”

“The one when they walk in to school together and everyone is staring.”

“Oh.” Peter laughed. “Yeah, I can see why you thought of that.”

You laughed as well and headed towards the library so you could study together before your class. On the way, you walked by one of the guys on the basketball team.

“Whore.” He said through a fake cough as he passed by. You stopped walking and let go of Peters hand.

“Why’d you let go? Are my hands too sweaty?” Peter asked and wiped his hands on his pants.

“It’s not that.” You sighed. “It’s because I’m poisonous. If you’re seen with me, you’re just gonna get a reputation too.”

“Who cares? We can wear the scarlet letter together.” Peter said and took your hand again. You looked down at your intertwined hands before looking at him skeptically.

“You really don’t care?”

“I don’t.” Peter shrugged so nonchalant that you believed him. You smiled in satisfaction and tugged him closer by his shirt to kiss him. It was your way of saying thank you and his way of saying he didn’t care who saw you together.

As the weeks went on, the buzz around your relationship died down and no one seemed to care anymore. All the while, you were growing more comfortable in your relationship with Peter. You kept up with your studying session during the day and went on dates at night. You were getting better grades and happier than ever.

Peter went back to his dorm after a late class one day with a huge smile on his face. He dumped his backpack on the floor and sat down on his bed with a happy sigh.

“Remember that girl from high school that we both liked?” Peter asked Ned.

“Liz? With the beautiful black hair and perfect bone structure? Who always smelled like Japanese Cherry Blossom? I vaguely remember her.” Ned replied.

“Yeah. Liz. I liked her so much. If you asked me back then, I would’ve sworn I was in love with her.”

“Why are you thinking about Liz?” Ned wondered.

“Because I realized I never actually liked her. I liked the fantasy I built around a girl I found pretty. I didn’t even know Liz and I thought I was in love. But I know Y/n. And I know that I’ve never felt this way before.” Peter said with another happy sigh.

“Oh no. You’re not saying you’re in lesbians with her, are you?” Ned gasped.

“Damn. I forgot about that movie. We should watch it again.” Peter said. “And no, I’m not saying I’m in love with her.”

“Okay. Good.” Ned relaxed.

“But I’m going to.” Peter added.

“You are? Isn’t it a little soon?” Ned asked him.

“We’ve been together for two months now. It’s how I feel. Why shouldn’t I tell her?”

“I’m just saying. I think you should wait until you know how she feels.”

“I think she feels the same.” Peter told him. “It’s just hard for her to trust people. That’s why I want to be the one who says it first. And I think I’m gonna do it next time I see her.” Peter said proudly. He then got a text and smiled when he saw your name on his screen.

“That’s her now.” Peter said and opened his phone to read your text. His smile slowly faded as his eyebrows knit together.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked when he saw Peters face.

“She’s at a frat house. She wants me to come get her.” Peter said as he got off his bed.

“Ew.” Ned grimaced. “Why is she at a frat house? Is she trying to get scabies?”

“I don’t know. Probably a party.” Peter shrugged but also found it strange to hear you were there. The frat boys were the ones who bullied you and beyond that, you were never a party kind of person. He threw on his jacket and stepped into the December air to walk to the campus frat. He was let right in which he found slightly suspicious and texted you once he was inside. You said you were in the first bedroom on the second floor, so Peter made his way up the stairs and knocked on the door. When you didn’t answer, he frowned and started to get nervous. He opened the door and felt his heart drop when he saw you in bed with some guy in a hockey jersey. You were fast asleep in your hoodie and sweats with a cup of ginger ale on the dresser beside you. Peter felt tears come to his eyes and stood there frozen in shock. Brad and his friends suddenly appeared behind him in the doorway and laughed obnoxiously in Peters ear.

“Oh shit! The slut strikes again.” Brad laughed as he took a picture of you. Flash and Harry were right behind him, laughing and taking pictures as well. The commotion woke you up and you sat up as you rubbed your aching head.

“What the fuck?” Peter blurted, making your groggy eyes fly open. You looked at him in confusion but could barely see him with your splitting headache.

“Peter? What’s going on?” You asked as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“You tell me. Who is that guy?” He shouted and pointed to the guy next to you. You gave him a confused look and followed his finger, screaming in surprise when you noticed the guy for the first time. He was too drunk to realize what was going on but you were starting to come back. You looked around and saw the boys laughing at you with their cameras out before your eyes landed on Peter. He was crying and staring at you with the most betrayed expression you had ever seen.

“Peter.” You said breathlessly, knowing how bad it looked. You were too focused on him to care about the pictures being taken or the teasing from the guys. Peters face twisted in misery as he turned to leave. He pushed past the guys who were cheering and calling you names and ran down the stairs.

“Peter, wait.” You pleaded as you ran after him. He kept running so you did too. You caught his arm in the lobby and made him stop.

“Please, talk to me. Let me explain.”

“I can’t believe this. I thought we had something.” Peter said as he wiped his face on the back of his hand. The music was shut off as people tuned in to listen to the fight.

“We do have something. That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t even know that guy. Please, I need you to believe me.” You said and took his hand but he yanked it away from you.

“Believe you? How can I believe you when I caught you sleeping with another guy?” Peter shouted, making the party goers go “ooo” as they watched the drama unfold. You looked around in embarrassment and knew your reputation was never going to recover from this. People were filming and staring at you and all you could do was let it happen.

“It looked like that, but-“

“Everyone was right about you.” He cut you off, making you freeze as he said the most hurtful words you could imagine him saying.

“What did you just say?” You whispered in disbelief.

“I said that they were right. This is exactly what I was warned would happen if I got involved with you. You get what you want from a guy by pretending to like him and then break his heart. I should’ve known better.” Peter spat, making you stumble back in surprise.

“Peter, no. That’s not what’s happening. Please, just let me explain. I need you to believe me. What you saw wasn’t what you think. You know me, Peter. You know I’m not like what everyone says.”

“Maybe you are. Why else would you lead me on like this? You said you needed to go slow with me but then I catch you fucking some other guy? What are you, some kind of slut?” He shouted.

The room went silent. The world went silent.

You were wrong. Those were the most hurtful words Peter could say to you. People started to laugh and call you “slut” and all it’s hateful synonyms as you stared at Peter in disbelief. And as angry and hurt as Peter was, he knew he had just crossed the line. He wasn’t the kind of guy who used that word yet there he was, throwing it at you in a room full of people.

“You said you’d never call me that.” You whispered as a tear ran down your cheek. The betrayal in your eyes told Peter that he had already burned his bridge with you. You were never going to forgive him for that, so he decided he might as well put the nail in the coffin.

“Well that’s what’s you are.” He snapped. “If you didn’t want me to call you that, maybe you shouldn’t act like one. I can’t believe I was ever in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?” You said breathlessly.

“Not anymore.” He said before he even knew what was coming out of his mouth. His face was burning all the way up to his ears. That was not how he wanted his first “I love you” to go. He hadn’t meant to blurt it the way he had but it just came out.

Your jaw dropped as a tiny gasp escaped your lips. Peter immediately regretted it but there was nothing he could do to make things right. The entire room was against you and on his side so even if he apologized, it wouldn’t reach your ears. You stared in each others eyes and the people in the room cheered for Peter while they ridiculed you.

“Yeah! Get her Peter!” Brad proudly cheered from the stairwell. Peter wondered what kind of guy he had become if Brad Davis was applauding his actions. In fact, he didn’t want the approval of any of the people in the house. Peters eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but you didn’t want it hear it. You ran out of the house with tears in your eyes and Peter silently watched you go. Some of the jocks clapped him on the back and expressed their pride in him, making Peter feel sick to his stomach. The music resumed and people started to talk about the scene and degrade you further while Peter stood frozen. The guy in the jersey came stumbling down the stairs and asked what had happened, but received no answer. Peter left without saying anything and went back to his dorm, slamming his door behind him as he went in.

“Woah, dude. What’s wrong? Where’s Y/n?”

“She cheated on me. You were right. She’s just a slut.” Peter mumbled as he sat on his bed. Now that he has used the word once, it was tumbling out of his mouth with ease. He didn’t know who he had become because he was not raised to be a guy who said things like that, and yet there he was.

“Wait, really? I’m never right. What happened?” Ned asked him.

“I walked into the party and she was in bed with some guy.” Peter said with a sigh as he replayed it all in his head. Now that he was out of the heat of the moment, he wondered about your initial confusion when you saw the guy in bed with you. You looked just as surprised as Peter was to see that guy there.

“I’m sorry, dude. I know you were about to tell her you loved her.” Ned said sympathetically.

“I just don’t understand. She told me all those rumors weren’t true. How could she do this to me?” Peter wondered out loud. He laid his head down on his pillow and felt tears leak out of his eyes and into his ears. He replayed the moment over and over again in his head until he eventually fell asleep.

Tag List 💋

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@classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles @hitoshislut @misspascalpunk

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@bellajg21 @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

Hi, there.

I would love to read about Daniel proposing to Sunshine 💗

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

He didn’t even have a fucking ring.

Daniel was unprepared beyond imaginable. He didn’t even plan to propose that day, he didn’t even think as much when he woke up that morning. He simply kissed you, murmured a quiet ‘I love you’ before he headed out for his morning gym session and a day full of meetings with the team.

You had been working from home that day, happy to stay in comfy clothes and look over data with Salem curled up on your lap. You had vaguely told him that you might pop over to the grocery store to pick up some essentials you were running low on, but all in all, it was a mundane day for the both of you.

It hit him when he received a message from you. You were buzzing for him to come home, excited to show him a surprise you had bought earlier in the day. You were so giddy and happy, it made his chest tighten.

When he walked through the front door of your shared apartment, he was greeted by Salem first who was already purring at his feet, rubbing his head against his legs until Daniel finally caved in to scratch his head.

“Sunshine?”

“In here!”

He dropped his bags by the floor, sliding his shoes off before he passed through the apartment towards the kitchen. When he made his way into the room, you quickly turned to him with a massive smile on your face.

“Gonna show me this surprise, baby?” He teased, watching the way you were practically vibrating to show him.

Your eyes were glimmering when you lifted the surprise to show him, like a child on Christmas. “Look at it!”

You started rambling about the small appliance you had found at the store. It was an air diffuser, one of those fancy little machines you put water and essential oils in to make the place smell nice. But this one was designed like a small volcano, the diffused air coming out like little puffs of smoke in an explosion.

And yet, for such a simple thing, you were practically over the moon. You were eager and animated and so excited to show him, and it just hit him deep in the chest how domestic the whole situation was.

It hit him how simple and sweet the moment was. That even after so long together, something as simple as sharing a cool device you had got at the store with him got you so excited. It hit him just how happy he was to hear you ramble on about stupid, small things. It hit him that he wanted to listen forever.

“—and I ordered some fancy oils off Amazon that I thought we could try—”

“Marry me!”

Your words came to a screeching halt as you stared at the boy in front of you, blinking a few times like you weren’t quite sure you heard him right.

“What?” You whispered, almost breathlessly.

“Marry me,” he repeated again, almost as breathless as you were.

Because the thing was that Daniel had thought about marrying you, far more than he cared to admit. You two had discussed the conversation of marriage multiple times, you were both on the same page. But Daniel had spent countless nights thinking about marrying you. Hell, he knew he was going to marry you after the second date.

He always thought he would find the right moment to propose. That he would talk to his mother, get some advice on finding the perfect ring for you before whisking you away to a dream location where he would propose with a planned speech about how much he loved you.

Instead, he was standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, not a ring in sight, with just an overwhelming desire to call you his wife, to marry you and be with you for the rest of your lives together.

To spend a lifetime listening to your random little rambles about the smallest of things.

“Marry me,” he repeated one more time as he stepped forward, as he reached for you. “Marry me and spend the rest of your life with me. Marry me and buy every single damn thing in the world just so I can hear you talk about it. Marry me. Be with me. Let me love you the way you’re meant to be loved forever.”

“Daniel,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes.

“I don’t have a ring,” he murmured as he swallowed back the emotions laying thick in the back of his throat. “And this is probably not the best proposal in the world but I’ll get you the best fucking ring in the world, whichever one you want and I’ll—”

You didn’t waste another second before you grabbed his face in your hands, pulling him towards you until your lips were pressed against his. Daniel sunk into the kiss in seconds, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you until your body was flush against his.

“I don’t care about a ring,” you murmured against his lips. “I wanna marry you too.”

Daniel could feel his grin grow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back. “Gonna make you Mr Sunshine.”

Daniel snorted. “Guess you have to get me a ring then.”

“I’ll get you one of those candy ones,” you joked.

“Perfect,” he murmured before he leaned in to kiss you again, a little more loving and a little less feverish. “I’m still gonna get you a ring, Sunshine. Gonna find the most perfect ring for the most perfect girl.”

Your cheeks flushed in response. “Who gets to marry the most perfect man.”

“We make a great couple,” he commented, still holding you tight against him. “Mr and Mrs Sunshine.”

You laughed. “Mr and Mrs Sunshine.”

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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littledead-ridinghood · 11 months

Note

sorry if this is a weird question to drop on you you were just the first person I thought of who might know but do you know if it's canon/canonically-based evidence that jason is physically stronger than other bats because I always see people say jason is the one with "brute strength" and I can't remember if that's based on anything besides people saying that as a nicer way to call him a brute(maybe it was on lobdells stuff? but I wiped most of those out of my memory)

You thought of me first? <333333 I'm blushing. And it's not weird at all! Even if it was, I love answering weird shit.

Anyway:

So part of Jason being considered "the muscle" of the bats comes from the fact that Jason's currently the biggest of the robins. (Adult!Damian is usually drawn as the tallest of the kids when all is said n' done (that's vague for "age")).

Well, how big then?

I always go with this chart which was released while UtRH was being released:

(I Love this! I wish DC still did little info things like this within their comics. Or maybe they do and I'm just blind. But Look! Canonical Information!)

So canonically speaking, at least when running around pre-crisis, Jason is 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. (Also note criminal mastermind and put a pin in it)

But you've probably heard 200 & 220 thrown around a lot. Those numbers are specifically pulled from two different DC character encyclopedia books which I don't trust at all because there notoriously filled with false information and are dubbed as not canon all the time.

Personally, I use the 6', 180-195 pound range which estimates for fluctuating weight, the passage of time, muscle mass, and minimum bulk & cutting (which I assume is part of most superheroes' training to stay in fighting form, but please recognize that vigilantes are more athlete than bodybuilder) because it's from a canon source (Canon is "king" and all that). No shame to people who use the other numbers or even headcanon something completely different, but again, vigilantes are predominantly running all over cities day after day, not stagnant weight lifters. Cardio vs weights body compositions are quite different even if both are healthy. (And it's not all "swimmer's body illusion" either (they have that body because they swim? No, they swim because they have that body.)

How much muscle mass a person can maximally obtain is up to your genetics. But that max only comes with constant maintainment. It's not feasible for Jason to be doing all that cardio and also have that much muscle mass and fat. Cardio burns "fat" (calories), weights build muscle. We constantly see the former and former-adjacent workouts more than the latter with him. Jason is running across rooftops, flipping off them before falling into a shoulder roll onto the next roof over chasing after bad guys every night. The number of calories he'd have to eat and time put into lifting weights (too many reps a week lead to damage, not growth) to maintain his max (max being what a lot of weights category athletes try to achieve which Jason just hasn't been shown to be (except in his jailbird phase where he could literally only lift weights, read, and avoid being killed to pass the time)) isn't possible.

Using comic art to "prove" how much he weighs doesn't work either. Firstly, because everyone wears weight differently. Two people can be the same height, weight, and sex and look completely different. This is due to different body types, composition, genetics, diet, (what kind of) exercise, and many other factors. Assuming someone thinner is automatically "super light" doesn't factor in different body compositions (fat, muscle, bone percentages). (yes, I know it's stupid to apply science to comics. There's my digression. let me live). Secondly, Jason (just like everything else about him) isn't drawn consistently at all. Sometimes he's pretty damn massive, but we also have Twink and Twunk Jason (DC can't even decide on hair color? Do you think they're gonna decide on his body?).

So, comic book art isn't super reliable as evidence unless we want to theorize if, how, and why he seems to fluctuate between weights all the time (<- Which I have a whole headcanon about if anyone's curious), especially in comparison to the others because, seriously, it's totally a Jason thing. Most characters are pretty consistent in body type. Anyway, someone could argue "See! he is 210!" but it's also not for a long enough period to stick around :/ Again, hard to consistently maintain that much weight as a 6-foot-tall, cardio-based athlete.

Also note: DC is horrible when it comes to weight-to-height lineups. A woman hero can be ~5'7'' and then we're told she's 110 lbs which Fact 1. is considered underweight for this kind of height-to-sex ratio, Fact 2. probably isn't factoring in the fact that muscle is heavier than fat, she just "looks thin", and 3. Usually, totally, absolutely is just blatant sexism.

Really, the numbers don't seriously mean anything of actual substance because their comics, are unreliable, and also usually just...scientifically wrong. But Jason's perception on page, as well as the information we've been told, is one reason he's considered "brute strength first and foremost."

Furthermore, Jason has been shown repeatedly to be on par with Bruce (even when Jason, most of the time, plays defense in their physical fights) but many people chalk this up to him and Bruce having similar physiques making it "easier". Again, counter-productive argument because Bruce and Jason have been drawn very similarly before in stories as well as completely different from each other in others. Also, this purposefully, blatantly ignores Jason's actual skills. No one chalks Dick Grayson or Cassandra Cain beating Bruce up to their body types. Moreover, when Bruce and Jason are drawn similarly in body, no one refers to Bruce as "Brute Strength" either. Bruce gets to be tactical, strategic, clever. (Also Also: In Pre-Crisis, Bruce, Dick, and Jason are deliberately drawn to look similar (height, mass, looks, etc.) to get that Brothers in Blood effect. Still, No one chalks the formers up to all strength. Just Jason)

And that brings us to your question, Anon: Is there canonical evidence for Jason being stronger than the other Bats?

Remember how I told you to put a pin in that "Occupation: Criminal Mastermind" note? Well, first off, Jason creating jobs for his community. Go off, king. Second off, and more importantly so, "Mastermind": a person who supplies the directing or creative intelligence for a project (Merriam-Webster).

When Jason was first re-introduced, what made Jason dangerous was that he was highly skilled and smart. He was playing with both Black Mask and Batman like a cat batting a toy mouse. He orchestrated an entire "slow-growing" takeover of Gotham's underworld (he was actually very quick about it). Jason controlled the situation and planned so well that he had the villains and heroes who were both after him fighting each other so he could slip away and do what he actually needed to do.

Throughout Jason's history, he's always had tools with him when he fights. To the point that Bruce says to Jaybin "You won't always have this" cutting his utility belt, insinuating he relies too much on it, which Jason returns the favor to on his return and fights B hand to hand <3 Love a cocky callback. Furthering this, he knows many, many different fighting styles and techniques both from life experience and from extensive training. Jason's a quick learner by nature and is incredibly adaptive. Guns; knives; swords; pens; sets bombs to specifically implode, not explode; makeshift gadgets; a baseball bat just laying around; a tire jack that one time; brains. I could go on. Jason doesn't just hit things. He uses what he has as a means to an end. He's canonically known as one of the best strategists in-universe and is incredibly creative with his surroundings. Jason isn't just great at extensive, long-term planning either. Bruce himself has remarked on the fact that Jason thinks incredibly quickly on his feet, he's really good at improvisation. Concisely, he has plans A-G and if all those fail, he can pull something out of nothing. Contrast this with Bruce who needs to have a plan for everything. Even if it doesn't look like he's following a plan, Bruce is. Opposed to Jason who can go with the flow and figure it out along the way.

Jason even said this in present-era in TFZ:

And that's the whole point, isn't it? Jason is strong. Incredibly so. He's big and tall and has gorgeous thighs. Not to mention, has a mean right hook. But just because Jason's strong doesn't mean he isn't a bat first and foremost who relies on his brain before anything else. He died 4'6 (on his death certificate, his height varies depending on what source you pull) and famously had to defend himself his entire life ever before being Robin. Being young and small and forced to survive shaped Jason into a quick thinker who could either get away or take enemies 10x his size down. Nowadays, he just has a longer reach.

In Event Levithan when Damian says: "Jason Todd is one of the Great Master fighters of all time" He doesn't say strongest because Damian doesn't mean strongest. Damian means adaptable, smart, capable, and well-rounded in skill.

While I don't doubt that Jason is most definitely one of the strongest Bats due to his size, what makes Jason dangerous is not his body, but the fact that he knows how to use it. It's not "Brute Strength" as many people like to say, it's Strategic Strength. He knows just because he's stronger than someone doesn't mean he'll always win. A la see panels above. Jason knows throwing his body around won't do anything of real, long-term substance. That it's just blindsided and stupid.

I'm sure if I looked I could pull panels where other bats and/or vigilantes refer to Jason as the muscle, brute (strength), all brawn (no brain), other such implications, etc, but whenever people do, it's always to undermine Jason's skill. Because it's not actually about his strength. Jason, with his taller, more built form, makes walking quiet seem easy. And it looks easy because he's good. Jason himself knows his skill set, it's everyone else that undermines him time and time and time again. (Again, Event Levithan, Bruce doesn't agree with Damian's statement even though Jason just outsmarted the six or so people who all just tried to take him down (for something Jason didn't even do, mind you))

But, again from Damian, Jason's not known as "the muscle," he's "the emotional one" also usually used to...degrade Ja--We can't have anything nice apparently is what I'm saying. But yes, when people refer to Jason as "Brute Strength" it's usually them trying to find a nicer way of saying Brute or "thinks with his fists" or "Jason hits first, asks questions later." It's in the same vein as when people say "Jason likes books" as short-hand for "see, he's smart at something" rather than acknowledging that Jason achieved a degree's worth of knowledge in comp-sci by age 13.

Anyway Smart and Strong Jason, my beloved. I wish DC & others loved you as much as Rosenburg and the teams of artists he's been working with do.

#jason todd #jason todd meta #every thought I have has a 2nd secret thought behind it and I've been trying to be better about not rittling my metas w 2nd thought->(...)

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eldritch-nightmare · 5 months

Text

slow dancing.

a/n: idea popped into my mind and it became this. originally this was gonna include x virus but u know. my mind went blank for him. burying my head in my hands why did the bonus character one get longer than the rest i had to force myself to stop writing it holy hell

premise: it's storming outside, and the radio is playing a soft love song. so, why not dance? that was your thought as you approached your partner, getting their attention by holding your hand out, "dance with me."

includes: jeff the killer, the puppeteer, hobo heart, ticci toby, and zalgo. + a bonus character bc why not.

warnings: not proofread, very vaguely implied kidnapping and stockholm syndrome in jeff's part, blatantly stated kidnapping in zalgo's part, it's just fluff actually, inconsistent length, nsfw elements in the bonus part don't look at me okay

JEFF THE KILLER

"Huh?"

He just sorta stares at you for a moment, confusion evident in his gaze as he stares at your outstretched hand. Honestly, you don't know why he seemed so caught off guard. You two were long past the... ugly beginning of your relationship.

You just shrug at his confusion, casually explaining that since neither of you could go outside due to the weather, you might as well make the most of it. Why you've decides that dancing in the best way to pass time during a storm is beyond him.

He thinks you're weird as hell for this, and he says such to your face, but he's already reaching out and taking your hand, letting you take the lead this once as you pull him close to you. He certainly isn't complaining anymore now that the two of you are pressed together like this.

Jeff can't dance to save his life though, so you'll have to take the lead and guide him through simple steps. It's annoying, having you teach him something, but he likes the way you smile when he sways along with you to the music, so just this once, he decides it's not too bad.

He enjoys himself far more than he's willing to admit, and you don't miss the way his grip on you lingers for a moment too long after the song ends before he pulls away from you, grumbling about how pointless that was before returning to whatever he had been doing before.

THE PUPPETEER

He would glance up from the project he's working on, golden eyes peering up at you as he processes your request. He rarely ever had the radio playing, but the rain made it hard to focus so he had turned it on to drown the storm out. Honestly, he hadn't even noticed you were in the room with him.

He'd raise a brow, part of him wanting to scold you for interrupting his work and asking him to do something for you, but... well, he has been working for hours now with no break, so what harm could this do?

He'll let out a slightly exasperated sigh before standing from his seat and taking your hand. You won't be able to take the lead here, since he already knows how to dance.

You two will sway along to the music, the sound of the storm no longer existing as the two of you get lost in your own little world together. You're comfortably resting your head against his shoulder, quietly humming along to the song while he's closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax even if only for a moment.

The Puppeteer could honestly get lost in the moment here if he lets himself. You'll start to feel strings coiling around you, and you'll glance down to see his signature golden strings lazily latching on to you, almost as if to keep you close to him if you try pulling away.

When the song ends, he'll immediately leave his thoughts and open his eyes, detaching from you and stepping away. The strings don't immediately let go, but he pretended as if they weren't there. You don't need to know just how attached he is to you.

HOBO HEART

He's immediately taking your hand before he even processes your request, just eager to be touching you in some way as he stares at you as if you had personally put all the stars in the night sky. And once he does process your request, he's nodding along.

Heart doesn't care about the storm. He's been out in so many of them in his lifetime that he barely even acknowledges when it rains anymore. But if you wanna dance to keep your mind off the storm, then he's all for it.

He has no idea how to dance, so it's a bit clumsy and his grip on you is definitely a little too tight but you're both having fun, and you can tell he's trying his best to please you.

You'll definitely have to take the lead here.

And at some point, he'd burying his face in either your neck or your hair, softly muttering sweet-nothings to you as the two of you sway together to whatever sappy love song is playing on the radio.

Heart always feels like he's in heaven whenever you're close like this, and he's enjoying this a lot more than he thought he would.

Once the song ends, you'll try to pull away but he's clinging to you, clearly not satisfied enough to let you go. Welp. Looks like you're dancing to another song.

TICCI TOBY

Toby would definitely be the most hesitant to take your hand. He's not good with close contact, and he recoils from physical touch more often than not, even if he knows it's someone he can trust.

But the booming thunder outside is too loud. Too similar to cars crashing together. Too familiar. He needed a distraction, and you were providing him one. It took him a moment, but he was hesitantly reaching out and taking your hand.

He vaguely knows how to dance. He would dance along to upbeat songs with Lyra when he was younger, and when he was really young, he would sway along to some random old 80s song that his mom enjoyed. But slow dancing is not something he's done before, and the close proximity set him on edge a bit.

He's too tense, his grip too tight one moment and too loose the next. Occasionally, a tic would cause the both of you to stumble a bit before regaining balance.

You were patient with him, going at his pace and letting him take the lead as he got comfortable being so close to you. Once his shoulders relaxed and he seemed less tense, you gave him a few pointers that he carefully followed .

Soon enough, the two of you were swaying together to an old love song playing on the radio. He still flinched whenever a particularly loud thing of thunder would roar, but you were able to keep most of his attention focused on you.

The two of you end up swaying together until the storm dies down.

ZALGO

You're not entirely sure what exactly classifies as a storm in this cursed realm you found yourself trapped in, but they were far more scary than the ones back in the mortal world. The sky here literally screamed in agony as a sickly rustic-scented liquid rained from above.

You were lucky enough to have a radio with you to distract you from the raging storm outside. You don't question how it works here, opting to just believe it's some weird Zalgo-esque bullshit.

You were just glad you weren't alone right now, your loving captor having decided to deign you with his presence. You still weren't accustomed to his true form, no one is really, so he had opted to appear in a... acceptably human state.

When a love song started playing through the radio, you had turned it up a bit in hopes of drowning out the storm. The idea of dancing didn't come to your mind immediately, but you could feel Zalgo's many eyes just staring you down from across the room.

With a sigh, you force yourself away from where you had comfortably been sitting and cross the room. You did not miss the way Zalgo's stern expression softened ever so slightly when you held your hand out and asked him to dance with you.

Even in this form, he was much taller than you, so dancing was certainly... odd, and the feeling of his deathly cold skin against yours was not at all pleasant, but you chose to ignore that.

And he was clearly enjoying this for one reason or another. You suppose that was a good thing, and you found yourself enjoying this as well, much to your surprise.

Hm... maybe you'll invite him to dance more often. Maybe.

BONUS: HABIT no i havent finished emh yes i am writing this i need the guy to fuck me stupid seven ways to sunday i am not immune

Habit immediately beams the moment you ask him to dance with you, taking your hand and immediately pulling you close to him. You had to make sure you took the lead immediately, otherwise, who knows what would've happened.

Is he a good dancer? Fuck no. Evan probably is, maybe slightly, but Habit? Nah, it's not his cup of tea. He just likes when you're close to him.

His hands wander a little lower than they should be, resulting in you continuously having to fix them. Whenever you glare at him for that, he just innocently smiles as if he's done nothing wrong.

Though Habit's constant teasing was a bit annoying, you still enjoyed dancing with him, swaying along to the song playing on the radio as the storm raged on outside, adding to the strangely romantic ambiance that seemed to be developing.

It was soft enough that it almost made you forget the amount of carnage he could cause if he so desired, the carnage he has caused. He seemed to be in a rather good mood today, judging from how he isn't verbally teasing you for wanting to dance with him.

You were both content in each other's arms, the song ending and another starting, neither of you ready to pull away from each other just yet. At some point, he had buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths as if he were trying to burn your scent into his mind.

It was when the third song ended that you finally decided to pull away from him.

The moment you tried doing so, however, his grip on you was tightening and he was letting out a low growl, "Don't move, bunny." And that was enough to cause you to freeze. Not out of fear, though there was certainly an underlying sense of it, but mostly curiosity.

Before you could question him, you felt his bulge pressing into your leg, and Habit was evidently restraining himself from grinding against you, his nails digging into you as he kept you in place. Oh.

Seems like he wanted more from you. Here's to hoping you have the energy to keep up with him this time.

#jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #the puppeteer x reader #the puppeteer x you #hobo heart x reader #hobo heart x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #zalgo x reader #zalgo x you #habit x reader #habit x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #emh x reader #emh x you

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daylite-writes · 6 months

Note

Lynye which you wrote about is perfect, we need more yandere platonic Lynye

Soft Platonic Yandere Lyney (+ Lynette) PT 2

Sorry this took so long, first one disappeared (it’s back up dw!) so this was set back a bit. I’m glad you liked it! I love platonic yandere it’s so underrated.

cw: kidnapping, (mild) yandere, completely platonic, child!reader, gn!reader, reader goes on a hunger strike, implied future force-feeding (but it’s vague + well meaning), Lynette feeds into Lyney’s actions,

Lyney supposed he couldn’t be too upset at your actions. After all, he had snatched you up from the streets and plopped you in a guest bedroom with a door that locked from the outside. None of that stopped the little pang in his heart when he entered the room, seeing it basically ransacked. The shelves and their contents were on the floor, the dresser tipped over, clothes he bought for you scattered about. All that, plus the pillows and comforter of the bed had been pulled off, and he could see it all shoved underneath the bed, where you were undoubtedly bundled up in a little nest. Hiding best you could from your ‘captors’.

“Hey kid.” He greeted, shaking off his disappointment and replacing it with something cheery. “Are you feeling good enough to come out? I feel as though I haven't seen you in days!”

No response.

“Oh come on. Lynette cooked this time, and she set aside a pastry just for you. She won’t even let me near those!” He laughed, taking a seat on the floor, right next to the bed.

“I’d love to run a few magic tricks by you while you eat. I really think these ones are gonna be real showstoppers!”

He heard a small, unamused huff from under the bed.

Spurred on by the acknowledgement, no matter how negative, he continued. “I mean it! The crowd is gonna love this one. I can show you it if you come out.”

The offer was met with a small sniff. Then another.

Panic flooded his veins. You were crying. Oh no you were crying. He was already failing as a big brother and and—

“Move, Lyney.”

His head turned to the door, where Lynette had strode through, closing it gently behind her. Lyney frowned—he absolutely did not need his sister’s help, not when he promised he could take care of you all on your own.. “Sh! Lynette, I’ve got this.”

“You don’t.” She kneeled by the bed, peering under it. Her ears twitched as she waited a second. Then, after one still moment, she reached under the bed, grabbing your small frame and pulling you out.

You make your anger known, your small cries turned into a shriek of fear as you tried to escape her. “Let go! Lemme go!”

She tucked you onto her lap, holding you tight against her chest. Your arms and legs were skillfully trapped and detained as she held you there against her chest, shushing you quietly. “Yes, yes I know. It’s all very scary and unfair. Shh. I know. I know.”

“Let—I wanna go. I wanna…” blubbering wails turned into hiccuping sobs as she comforted you. Eventually, you collapsed against her, hiding your face away in her neck, letting her place her chin atop your head.

“There we go.”

Lyney sat there uselessly. The gaping hole in his chest aching to hold his new younger sibling in the way Lynette was. Rocking you gently, shushing down your exhausted whimpers and sobs. He watched as you slowly fell asleep, exhausted from your outburst.

When your breathing leveled out and your limbs stopped moving, Lynette relaxed her hold, sighing down at you.

“You said you knew what you were doing, Lyney.” She chastised him. He looked away shamefully.

“I really didn’t expect… this.”

“You should’ve.” Lynette said simply. “They havent been eating the food you’ve been giving them. I doubt they've been drinking the water—I can hear the bathroom sink turning on at night. I assume that’s where they've been drinking their water. Also the reason they passed out so easy. They’re hungry, dehydrated, and most of all, scared.”

“I can’t fix their fear, Lynette. Only try to work through it.”

“You’ve kidnapped them, Lyney. They won’t allow you to work through it. You can’t play big brother when the doors and windows are locked.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to hold them down and force the family thing down their throat.”

“They’re young. They’ll hardly remember this part.” Lynnette brushed your hair back from your face. “When they wake up, make them eat. Whether they want to or not. And maybe make them take a bath.”

“…You’re right Lynette.”

“Of course. Now take them back.”

“Happily!” He chirped, back to a peppy demeanor. Lynette rolled her eyes, passing you into Lyney’s arms. You mumbled a bit in your sleep, shying into the cold chest. Lyney’s face erupted into adoration, eyes wide as he glanced between you and an unamused Lynette.

She rolled her eyes, “Good luck, brother.”

~~~~~~~

#genshin fanfic #yandere genshin impact #platonic yandere lyney #platonic yandere #soft yandere #mildly #soft platonic yandere lyney #platonic yandere Lynette

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

Sagau but the reader travels often to other worlds and often brings back with a kids and acolytes are like

Acolytes: your grace who is that kid?

Reader: well the world I visited the kid was treated like the trash by pepole so....I taken the kid and NUCKED the pepole of that world = )

Acolytes:oh........WAIT WHAT!?

something like this and that often happens to point of the reader creates orphanage for "mistreated kids of the multiverse" and like there are characters of other games anime or cartoons who were treated badly becose of bullshit reasons reader didn't like that of the took the one or more kids( sometimes reader takes even 100 kids onec) and nukes the places that were responsible for making those kids live miserable now image the archons reaction the first time that situation happens vs the situation where the archons gose with reader to stop them form radical decision but something happens that passes archons so much that they helps reader

Ooh, interesting...sure, let's give it a try! I'm not gonna mention who the other kids of the other universes and series are in this, so prepared for very vague descriptions of them. Sorry, Anon—I'm having a little bit of writer's block as I'm doing this.

I also hate to inform you but I also deleted your other request :') It's mainly because I don't have any motivation and I'm too lazy to look at my old posts LOL- But still, sorry :')

(Disclaimers: Might be OOC, Mentions of Violence, Kidnapping adopting children from other fandoms, implied other fandoms (though never mentioned) & Mentions of Nukes & Nuking)

You love Teyvat. You really do—but many times, it gets a boring. It feels like there's nothing to do.

But! Luckily, you had a good solution to this. You could travel the other fandoms/universes you like, just to see your favorite characters and enjoy the scenery around you!

So you did. It was pretty okay, all of the trips, honsetly.

Until it wasn't. Just who did these pesky idiots think they were? You were going to show them what they truly are.

Dead Meat! (no pun intended/not copying from Dehya's elemental burst now that I think about it-)

— — —

Your acolytes were surprised that you brought back an unknown child. A child that looks...unlike the Almighty Creator, and certainly not of Teyvat. How strange...

"Your Grace, who is this?" one of the acolytes speak. You look over at them blankly, before beaming with a smile.

"Oh, this little guy here?" You show the child. "I save them from people of another world that kept treating them like trash—so, naturally, I nuked the entire country and left."

Ah, so that's where the child came from....

Hold up a minute, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!

Nahida

While she certainly likes the fact that you were protecting others, she doesn't exactly like or even want to know what kind of arson you committed on behalf of the child...

Nevertheless, she'll help try to make the new friend welcome to Teyvat, so that everyone is happy!

She was certainly not expecting you to bring more children from other worlds here on Teyvat, to the point you even established the "Mistreated Kids of The Multiverse Centre" (MKOTMC for short), where every single child you kidnapped adopted would go to. Nevertheless, she'll still try to befriend all of them!

"Let's go and get some snacks after we play!" Really nice and welcoming to them all—after all, she's a child herself! Yet, despite this, she can't help but feel a little concerned of your methods of taking in children and even going as far as to destroy worlds for their sake...

Where those other worlds that bad?

Venti

Now, as much as this guy can cover his emotions, he cannot mask the shock he felt when he saw the amount of children at the MKOTMC for the very first time.

I'm starting off at this part because this man was not one of the acolytes that were informed of the Almighty Creator's return. And it ticked him off, he wasn't going to lie.

Nevertheless, he decides to take on the job and be the children's entertainer! He is a bard for a reason, you know~

"Haha, the same song again? Well, if you all insist, let this humble bard begin his song!" Other than Nahida, Venti is literally their favorite babysitter. This guy plays them music with a lyre and it's super good!

He wouldn't really care much about your "adopting" phase you're currently going through, but he is telling you to stop killing every world you despise.

Yes, he's getting flashbacks to Khean'riah because of it. That's why.

She would definitely be there the moment you "adopted" your first child from a different world. She is absolutely a) horrified of what the child has gone through (you put the effort to going into detail to what they've been put through without the child there, ofc) and b) pretty terrified of the fact that you would explode an entire world just because of it.

of course, she does try to justify your actions in her own head—she doesn't like the idea of putting blame on your image, even if it might be true.

She doesn't exactly know how to deal with children, but she does swear that she will protect them with all her power. She's trained heavily in the martial arts for a reason, and Ei is determined to not let it go to waste.

"Worry not, Your Grace—there will be no danger to the children you adopted so long as I shall stand to protect them." Literally makes it an oath, and you have to take it seriously or you will be shocked at the guard shifts the Electro Archon made.

She and the Puppet Shogun make sure that they manage both Inazuma and the grounds of MKOTMC.

Because you know there will be others that would take the job of guarding the children at the Centre, as well as Ei's guard shifts she established, you promoted her to "Head of Security Shifts" and, boy, she if you thought she was taking it seriously before, she is taking it BEYOND serious.

Really, if someone wanted to kidnap a child from the Centre they are facing the Musou no Hitotachi head on.

Zhongli

Old Grandpa was also there when the first child was brought to Teyvat. This guy makes it his mission to a) try to persuade you to not nuke an entire world just for the child and b) try to entertain the child with folktales of all the seven nations of Teyvat.

When MKOTMC was established, all the children basically knew this man as the Storyteller since he loves to indulge them in past times and old stuff.

Not only that, but most of them are pretty addicted to what he's gotta tell them.

"Ah, you wish to hear another story? Hm...very well. I have just the one." Would gladly indulge them ngl.

Joins the MKOTMC Security Squad once you established thanks to Ei's persistence. Though he tries to minimizes the amount of shifts he takes because he still wants to retire from being a War God and all that.

Also is traumatized of the Khean'riah incident and would also try to talk you out of destroying worlds you despise.

AND WE ARE DONE! BOY, I AM SO TIRED 😭 BUT ITS ALR SINCE THIS IS WHERE MOTIVATION COMES FROM—

Alright, see you all around! :D

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Not even related to what I wrote but AZHDAHA MY BOY YESSS LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—

Ahem, anyways, back onto topic. I tried to vaguely mention which fandoms the children are from because, let's be honest, there is way too many fandoms out there and I cannot even begin to imagine how much research I'll have to put in just to list a few for this fanfic. I would've died before I even get to write it lol.

I also mainly decided to focus on how the archons would take care of the children after the initial shock. You know—just for more tea and all that lol. I hope you all liked it :)

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description To See if Their Mailbox is Open!

#genshin sagau #yandere sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #sagau x reader #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic #platonic genshin impact #sagau ei #sagau nahida #sagau zhongli #sagau venti

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fakesimp · 11 days

Text

Hired? Or Claimed? , With Shu Yamino

Warning !

Mentions of Blood, Drugs ; Shanti! Shu ; Strangers— Acquaintence— Lovers? ; Lowkey Possessive! Shu ; Modern set timeline ; Unestablished Relationship

A/n !

IMEJFJENWIWJDFF—

before you guys say anything, Some beautiful, lovely followers, those who is kind enough to share, ..yes, I thank you personally for that 🙏🏻 I hope you have a great day.

And I wrote this, based on fanarts I've seen, and a theory I found about Shanti and Mafia being related. Whoop. Enjoy!

Also Happy birthday My Beloved Sorcerer.

➶◜◝➴

How did you ended up here?

Oh, right, it's because you have some debts to pay, but you have no money with you.

Weeks of you trying to find a decent job kept failing for some reason, it drives you insane. You never thought the day of you doing some type of dirty job will ever come.

You, who got no choice, decided to dive into the dark side of the internet, the world maybe, trying to see if there's anything, a job you can find with big earnings.

Your eyes scanned through the screen of your phone, and laptop, to see if there's any response to your post upon is there any job out there to get big amount of money without doing much, dirty work.

Hours have passed.

You were about to give up until you see a notification coming from your phone, an anonymous message, asking you, would you like some help to pay your debts?

You opened the message, to see there is more to their message. The anonymous message also included their location to meet up, you were skeptical on going to the location or not.

It could be a fraud. But you did say that any job would be fine as long as it gave you a big money in the end, you would take the risk.

After contemplating for awhile, you finally decided to check out the place tomorrow. Also, just in case, you also bought some taser, and other self protection things.

You will never know what's gonna happen when you're on your way there, the chances of you getting in danger is there. You are literally going to visit an unknown place, of course at least you need some, self protection right?

. . .

You are starting to regret you choice on coming over to the location that was sent by the anonymous person. You are walking down the dark alleyway despite the sun is high up in the sky, you looked at your phone once again to see where you're going.

And then you stopped by a building, that is quite, clean also, welcoming? Depsite other buildings that looks not so friendly for you.

You looked around one last time, and checked your phone. It says that you have arrived at the destination, you look around the door, and the walls to see if there's anything, you can press to let the person? Or people inside.

But you didn't find any, so you ended up knocking on the door. There was no response at the first 5 minutes, you knocked again. There is also no reponse, third time is a charm, right?

You were just about to knock again and the door swung open, revealing the person standing behind it. They tilt their head slightly, scanning you from head to toe. "You, .. You're the person who needs their debt to be paid?" You blinked, and slowly nod your head.

"I was, the person in [ ... ], asking for a job— you reached out to me in my dms—" "Oh, come in, I will escort you to his room."

You followed the person, looking around the place, it's very japanese vibe, you can see some of the furnitures, walls, doors are built like a Japanese old houses. Not to mention the sweet scent scattered around the place, you noticed that the person took you to the deeper side of the building.

And then they stopped, knocking by the door. Speaking something in Japanese? Not long after you heard a voice coming from behind the door, the person turned to you—

"Inside, he is waiting for you."

He said as he took a step to the side, and slowly opening the door for you. You see a figure inside, though vaguely, since there is a curtain separating you and the person inside.

You stepped into the room, and the door closes behind you. You bit your lower lip as you look at the person behind the curtains, it didn't really let you see exactly how the male looked like. All you can see is just his silhouette, and it's also vaguely too. You can see them because of the dim lighting from his side, you then heard footsteps behind the curtain.

"I heard from my underling you needed to find a job?" His honeyed voice echoed throughout the room, tickling your eardrums with his voice. "Y, Yes, I need to pay my debts— and, I couldn't get any decent job so—" Before you can finish your sentence, you heard a low chuckle from his side.

Made you who had been fiddling with your fingers, and looking on the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, finally looked up.

And then you noticed that the silhouette is standing so close to you, making you inhaled sharply upon the realization how close he is.

"I can give you a job, a simple one even, as long as you don't get caught. You are going to be fine." He said, making you sweat upon his statement, what does he mean caught? What job is he going to offer you? "I'm, I'm sorry but, what job am I working on—?"

"Delivering drugs." He casually said and then the next thing that happened, there is suddenly a gust of smoke slips through the curtains— making you instinctively stepped back, "Don't worry, for now it's just a simple delivery in town." He added.

Is he trying to convince you to deliver drugs for him right now? "Well? It's just a simple job after all," He walked away and you then heard some ruffling from his side. "About your debts, you don't need to worry, they will be paid entirely, guaranteed." He said, now you're contemplating even harder.

So in exchange of delivering drugs for him, you get your debt paid entirely. You stood there for a good minute, trying to think if you should take the risk or not. If you're caught then you'll end up behind bars, and that is something you wished that rather not happened if you actually decided to deliver drugs for this man.

"Okay, Y, you just want me to deliver drugs right? In town?" "Yes, so this means you're accepting the offer?" You bit your lips, you closed your eyes— "Yes.. I accept your offer, you will pay my debts, right?" "Yes, your debts will be paid, don't worry." You heard another low chuckle coming from his side.

"Well, then, I look forward for how you're doing," He hummed softly, you then smelled a sweet scent coming from his side. "You better don't do anything weird, reporting to the police or such, or you will get the consequences.

And I believe you wouldn't like it the slightest, well then, good luck, new recruit."

. . .

That was 6 months ago, a lot have happened in that 6 months, there was up and downs. But one thing for sure is that your boss, who's called as Shu Yamino. Kept his words, he paid your debts. Everything was paid after your 3 months of working with him, the drug package is getting bigger and bigger the longer you work for him. And the range of you sending the drugs had gone further from your first month working, it went outside the town. Even countries.

And right now, you're on your way back to meet with Shu, you just got back in town from going abroad to another country to send off some drugs, how did the drug manage to go pass the scan? Only God knows how. At least the drugs are sent away, and delivered safely.

The moment you arrive at the building you are greeted with blood trails, making you quite concerned. But then you remembered what Shu said—

"If you ever see blood in the building, anywhere. Ignore it, your job is simply delivering drugs, you don't need to get yourself involved into other things."

He said so on your first month working with him, and that got your heart skipped a beat thinking about it. That means there is some fighting also, killing? Maybe? Involved in this damn place.

Even after 6 months, you still getting goosebumps on thinking about the bloodbath happening. You took a deep breath as you continue stride forward, trying to ignore the blood trails. But you can no longer ignore them when you realized the blood trail leads to Shu's room.

Did he got hurt?

You pondered upon the thought, you slowly knocked on the door, you heard shuffling inside the room, and after awhile you heard a familiar voice coming from the other side.

"Who is it?" He asked, "It's me" You replied, he then went silent, you know that his silence meant that you can go inside. You slowly opened the door and stepped inside, the smell of iron strokes your nostrils as soon as you went inside.

You never really see how Shu looked like, only some of his underlings saw him, but most of his underlings never saw him personally. That is including you.

You took a deep breath, "The drugs have been delivered," you started off, you didn't hear anything from him for a good minute. "I see, good job. You can take a few days off, you've done well the past 2 months." He said and then you heard another soft shuffling from his side.

"... Um," You blinked, stared at his silhouette behind the curtain. "I, Know you said that I shouldn't get involved in other things other than delivering drugs—" You spat out, "But I can't help it— Are you, okay—"

He did not say anything for a good minute, making you start to regret asking how he's doing. But the next thing you knew you heard footsteps coming closer, and closer and closer.

Eventually you see his silhouette right before you, the one that separates you is just the curtain. "The blood, is the reason why you're worried, no?" He asked barely in a whisper, you hesitantly replied— "Y, Yes.."

You don't know how long this silence had been going, but then slowly you saw his hand go through the curtain, his slender fingers reached out to you from behind the curtain. Silently inviting you to go to his side, you stared at his hand, you don't know where the courage came from—

But you placed your hand on top of his, he then slowly pulled you through the curtains. And you finally can see who you're working for—

Shu Yamino, his raven hair, his piercing purple eyes staring down at you. "It is not my blood." He said, he didn't let your hand go, but you didn't even realize he' still holding your hand.

You couldn't get your eyes away from his eyes, it's so, beautiful, also, tantalizing. It made you feel like you're getting hypnotized, "Are you okay?" He chuckled softly as he dangerously leaned closer to you.

"Huh? O, oh!— I, yes- I'm, okay—" You felt embarrassed upon staring at the man oh so shamelessly, he is your boss! And you just shamelessly stared at him.

He is pretty, you can't really blame yourself upon seeing his, beauty. You looked away from him and took a step away, only to realize that his hold on your hand tightens. "Where are you going, hm?" He asked in a whisper, he then pulled you closer.

The next thing you knew, he blew out some smoke to the side, before he looked back at you. His eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly annoyed with how you stepped away from him.

"I— No where—? I, I should go back home—" You were about to pull your hand away from his hold, only for him to pull you even closer to him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. "Are you scared?" He asked, his face is right beside your ear, whispering huskily at your ear.

"Why are you trying to run away from me?" He asked once more, making your whole body shiver. "I, I don't know—" You replied, you then felt his hand on your lower back, pulling you in even closer than before. Making your hips pressed against his, his other hand brushed against your hair, kissing the tip of your hair as he leaned closer to you.

"Sweet.." He whispered, you realized that his clothing is painted with red, not too much but you can smell the blood iron stroking your nostrils due to how close he is to you. "Sweet..?" You repeated—

"Your scent.." He hummed softly, the next thing you knew, his face buried at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

You don't know what's happening. There is so much happening within a span of a minute, making you confused. Why does he act like this? You never really talked much to him, other than reporting. You two do have small talks before, but it's not much since he seemed to be so busy.

But from what you heard, Shu knew how his underlings looked like, despite them not knowing how he looked like. "I am curious, ..." He whispered, "how long you will last" he added, you then felt his lips brushing against your skin. Making your body shiver once more, "What, ..do you mean?" You asked shakily, trying to breathe properly.

"Not many of my underlings stayed, they either died or getting captured." He added, "But you at the other hand," he sighed. "You handled your job very well, you never underestimate the work that is given." He continued, his hand on your lower back gently moved up and down. As if he's trying to soothe you.

"... I'm sorry, You can leave now" He said, but before literally letting you go, he planted a soft kiss on your neck before stepping away from you.

"You can forget whatever happened just now,

Or..

You can stay. Your choice."

A/n !

How are you feeling with the ending JWNSHHWHEHED, I don't know how to end it. But i feel content with it heheheh.

Also Shu Yamino.

How dare you be hotter. That is a crime.

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #luxiem x reader #luxiem #YaminoBirthday2024 #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino #➴ fakesimp writing for you #fakesimp writing

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dangraccoon · 1 month

Note

Hi! I can't remember if I actually submitted an ask for your Roll for Request event. I know I saved your post and did the rolls, but I don't remember passing them on to you.

If I already submitted this, then feel free to ignore me!

Here's what I rolled:

2 - Hunter (I swear I didn't cheat)

8 - “Please, don’t argue. You have to leave right now; you aren’t safe here.”

5 - Fluff

As far as anything else, I leave it up to your imagination (because I have none, haha.)

Thanks!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Double Agent

Hunter x gn!reader (they/them pronouns, no other description)

Author's Note: Thanks for letting me reroll the prompt a little! I hope you like how it turned out!

Warnings: jealousy, tiny bit of protective!Hunter, Omega is a Little Shit, but like in an endearing way, love confessions, first kiss

Mando'a Guide: mesh'la - beautiful

It was another beautiful day in Pabu. The sun was bright and warm, moonyos were chittering as they ran across the paths, and Hunter stood against a wall, scowling at the scene playing out before him.

You were standing, talking to a neighbor excitedly about something he couldn’t make out, but he could see that you were smiling.

You had adjusted to life in Pabu easier than the rest of them, trusting the people here immediately and wholeheartedly. Sure, the rest of the squad was opening up, too, but there was something nagging at the back of Hunter’s brain every time he watched you make a new acquaintance.

Your laugh caught his attention and he watched as your hand touched the man’s arm, steadying yourself.

He heard Omega approach from his side. “Hunter?” she questioned, following his line of sight to you.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

He briefly glanced down at her. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Omega nodded, but her curious gaze stuck on him. “You’re doing it again.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed a little more. “What?”

She shrugged. “Echo told me I had to keep an extra eye on you because you do this thing where you stare at them looking all grumpy. He said that you were gonna scare them off.”

Hunter’s gaze finally fully shifted to her. “I don’t do that,” he protested, earning an incredulous look from his sister.

“Why are you always so angry with them anyway? They’re really nice and funny-”

“I’m not angry,” Hunter interjected with a sigh. “I just think they trust too easily.”

“Oh,” Omega hummed, drawing out the vowel. “So you’re protecting them?”

A vague suspicion tagged at the back of his brain as her tone shifted, but he ignored it as he kept his eyes on you. “Sure.”

“You don’t watch Tech or Wrecker like this,” she pointed out.

Hunter sighed. “They don’t get into trouble as much.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Omega,” Hunter warned.

“Don’t you trust them?”

“I do, but-”

“I think you like them.”

Hunter all but growled in frustration. “Look, sometimes you have to keep an eye on people you lo– people you care about to make sure that they’re okay.”

“So,” Omega murmured. “You do care about them.”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Ye– they’re part of this squad.”

He wasn’t sure when exactly she had left his side, his attention focused on you as you accompanied the neighbor back through the streets of Pabu.

It had taken quite a bit of practice, but Omega was getting better at evading her brother’s heightened senses. She ducked underneath a wall with flowers growing out of it, whispering your name as you emerged from your new friend’s house.

“Omega?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Get down here!” she hissed, her tone setting off an alarm in your mind, but her grin soothing it.

You knelt down next to her. “What’s going on?”

“Remember that special mission?” she smiled, excitement permeating the air around her.

You eyed her suspiciously. “Omega-”

“I know you said to drop it,” she explained. “But I think I’ve made some progress!”

You sighed, running a hand down your face as she continued.

“He only glares at you like that because he’s trying to protect you,” she informed you. “He thinks you get into trouble a lot, so he has to make sure you’re okay. But he said he cares about you a lot.”

You blinked at her, the information still processing.

“Why- why didn’t he come and talk to me himself?” you mumbled.

“Echo said it’s because he’s scared of you,” Omega stated, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Scared of me? Look at me, ‘Meg; I’m not exactly intimidating.”

“Perhaps not physically,” Tech suddenly appeared at the other side of the wall they were sitting against, startling you. “But given that Hunter has seldom cared for anyone outside of his siblings, it stands to reason that his affection for you feels unfamiliar and therefore, uncomfortable.”

Tech continued on to inform Omega about how she can improve at staying out of Hunter’s awareness as you sat, trying to absorb the information. One phrase hummed through your body on repeat. He cares about you.

As it neared sunset, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the dock, staring out at the horizon.

“Mind if I join you?” Hunter asked. You nodded with a small smile.

He sat next to you, mirroring the way your feet hung over the side. You sat there together in an easy silence, though you could tell he had something to say.

“Did Omega tell you I was here?” you prompted. Maybe you could draw something out of the terse sergeant.

“Uh, yeah,” he hummed.

“So you came looking for me?”

He nodded, awkwardly sparing a glance towards you.

You smirked. “What can I do for you, Hunter?”

He felt his body humming with electricity as you said his name. You have no idea the effect you have on me, he thought.

“No? Maybe you could tell me,” you suggested, watching his entire face bloom into a deep red as he realized he’d voiced what he meant to stay in his head. You set a hand gently on his knee, noting the tiny gasp he made. “I have it on pretty good authority that you care about me.”

Hunter swallowed. Omega was so grounded.

“Perhaps our little double agent didn’t relay information back to you,” you mused.

“No?” he nearly whispered.

“She told me how you feel, but I don’t think she told you how I feel,” you smiled, feeling your own cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

Hunter’s mouth felt dry and his heart pounded against his ribcage. “And how do you feel?”

This was it. You had to say it now.

“To put it simply, I’m in love with you, Hunter.”

Time stopped around you, the ocean ceased its ebb and flow, the sun paused where it hung low in the sky. There was no sound but both of your heartbeats as you gazed at one another. Hunter’s mouth was parted in a tiny ‘o’ like he couldn’t believe what you’d just confessed.

Reality snapped back into place around you as he began to smile. He leaned towards you, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face. “I’m in love with you, too, mesh’la.”

Neither of you knew who’d closed the gap first, your lips slotting together in a deep and overdue embrace. He broke the contact first, resting his forehead against yours as he attempted to catch his breath. In this moment, it was just you and Hunter.

Neither of you heard the hoots and hollering of the rest of the squad.

Thanks for reading! - River

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Text

This Is Me Trying

(Aegon Targaryen x Reader)

Request: Please write more HCs about Aegon, HCs how he reacts when he is loved, cherished and cared for (maybe by reader as his lovely widowed aunt, a younger sister / half-sister of Viserys and daemon) when Aegon is defended by someone, someone really stands up for him and defends and protects him against all hostilities and against the harsh treatment of Alicent, Otto and Aemond!

Requested by: @cara-eva

Hi! Thank you for the request, I’m sorry for the long wait. I don’t love the outcome, but I don’t want to make you wait any longer and I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get. I hope you like the story format instead of the headcanons, it was just easier for me to write this out that way. I’m hoping this is close to what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’m happy to write you another request.

Also, I didn’t really specify how you’re related to Aegon, but when I was writing I was intending for it to be a Targaryen reader that was close to him in age, who grew up in King’s Landing with him. So maybe a daughter to Daemon or Rhaenyra, or a really young sister to Daemon and Viserys. It doesn’t really matter how you choose to perceive it, it’s not important to the plot that much. I hope it’s ok that I left it open to interpretation.

Anyways, I hope you like it, let me know what you think!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of physical and verbal abuse, mentions of alcohol and substances, references to the street of silk, very vague gore and blood, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You could recall almost all the times in your life where Aegon had looked to you for comfort, after someone in your family was particularly harsh to him.

Not that he didn’t occasionally deserve it, he really did know how to piss someone off if he wanted to. He’s done it to you more times than you can count. You’ve just apparently learned how to deal with him more positively than the rest of your family.

But more often than not, Aegon was criticized and humiliated by his own family, for no real reason at all.

It was something he had become accustomed to, and he no longer fought it. Which meant that you had to be the one to stand up for him, you had to be the shoulder to cry on, because nobody else was going to.

—

Aegon never felt respected or well regarded by most members of the court, particularly regarding his Grandsire. Despite Aegon having a higher position than him, the Hand had no problem making it known that he thought very little of his grandson.

The worst that ever occurred between the two of them that you can recall was when word was sent to King Viserys that Corlys Velaryon had been critically injured, and his impending succession was to be challenged in an upcoming gathering. With the King bedridden, Otto took the news as the perfect opportunity to begin subverting Princess Rhaenyra’s children’s positions.

In doing so, he advised all the King’s children to support Vaemond Velaryon’s claim. He attempted to convince you the evening the message arrived, but you wouldn’t hear it. You made your claim of support for Lucerys on the spot, more so to spite Otto than anything.

In the week before the whole family was set to arrive, he cracked down on you. You had gone to accompany Aegon to the dragonpit, when Ser Erryk found you and asked you both to report to the Tower of the Hand.

You could tell Otto wasn’t pleased with your presence, but you accompanied Aegon anyway, taking a seat while the two of them talked.

“Aegon, it is the same laws being twisted to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne that is preventing you from being named heir. You’re the King’s firstborn son, and you’re being robbed of the opportunity to rule.”

“Careful, My Lord,” you had said, grinning. “Your words are embarking upon treason.”

He ignored you, trying not to give you a reaction. “Those very same laws are once again being used to falsely back Lucerys, when the Driftwood Throne should pass to Vaemond Velaryon. Back his claim, My Prince. Out of principle, alone.”

“I don’t give a shit about the throne, Iron or otherwise,” Aegon huffed, like the conversation was the dullest thing he could have possibly endured that day.

Otto narrowed his eyes, speaking firmer. “Lucerys’s claim is illegitimate, even you can admit that. You’ve got more blood of Old Valyria than he does, and he carries the name Velaryon. Does that not unsettle you?”

“Bastard or not, it is of no consequence to me,” Aegon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Let my nephew have it, or don’t let him have it, I don’t care. I’m not interested enough to involve myself.”

Otto stood from his chair, leaning over his desk to look Aegon in the eye. He almost shook with a silent fury, his voice laced with venom.

“Everything handed to you on a silver platter,” he spat, his face cold. “And you waste it. The Seven Kingdoms in the palm of your hand, and you don’t even bat an eye. You may have the pure blood of Old Valyria, but you’re more of a bastard than Lucerys will ever be.”

This caught your attention, making you stand and move behind the chair Aegon was sitting in. You had no problem standing up for Aegon, considering your position was also higher than Otto’s, and you simply enjoyed aggravating him.

“It would be in your best interest to hold your tongue, My Lord. It would be a shame to have to see to it that it is removed from your head.”

Otto took a step toward you, glaring, before leaning down to whisper into Aegon’s ear.

“Look at you…hiding behind a little girl. You’re lazy, arrogant, and a miserable excuse for a Targaryen. You bring shame upon your house, and humiliate yourself while doing so. It’s no wonder our Queen, your own mother, despises you so.”

You shook your head in disbelief, peering down at Aegon to see that his eyes had glossed over, and he had gone rigid in his chair. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in circles on the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt.

Aegon took a shaky breath, and you felt a rage course through you that expelled itself before you could stop it. You stepped in between Aegon and Otto, blocking Aegon from Otto’s sight. You reached a hand behind you, offering it for Aegon to take, which he gladly accepted.

With your free hand, you pressed your finger into Otto’s chest, inadvertently pushing him to take a step back.

“You forget yourself, My Lord. What about the phrase, ‘hold your tongue,’ did you not understand? You’re speaking to the Prince, at least pretend to act like it.”

You coaxed Aegon to stand, pulling him with you to head for the door. Otto nearly smirked as he watched, leaning back against his desk. His face fell when you turned around to speak to him, just before you stepped out the door.

“You’re weak, Otto. Pathetic. Half the man Aegon is, if even that. The stewards have more honor and merit than you. You burn bridges with every word you speak against the Crown and its children. As much as you hate to admit it, it still doesn’t change the fact that the histories will record Aegon’s and Lucerys’s names, bastard or not.”

Aegon smirked, watching Otto soak in your words like a slow acting poison, killing its victim cell by cell.

“Your name, however, will be forgotten. Far gone and lost to the obscurity of every man like you that has come before. Your efforts will be for naught, and the rest of your existence will be a miserable one. I hope you’ll come to understand that, because it is undoubtedly your fate. And I, for one, cannot wait to witness it.”

—

Aegon’s Grandsire was not the only member of his family that was known to be unnecessarily cruel. Amongst his siblings, Aegon really only dealt with Aemond’s hostility.

You could recall countless fights between the two of them, always squabbling with each other.

It took a lot for Aemond to actually get physical, or put any real malice behind his words. He was usually content to ignore Aegon’s presence entirely. But when provoked, it was probably better that you were there to intervene.

Despite how harsh Aemond could be, he was the easiest to deal with. You were one of the few members of the family Aemond actually liked, and he normally listened to you when you told him to pipe down. Plus, his and Aegon’s spats were normally sibling derived, and of no major consequence.

The worst between them was when Aemond finally snapped, and the two of them got into a screaming match about Aegon’s lack of ambition. Aegon had just returned from Flea Bottom, and Aemond had returned from an evening flight on Vhagar.

You heard them all the way from your chambers, finding them nearly throwing blows in the courtyard.

“I did not ask for this!” Aegon yelled, making Aemond sneer.

“Clearly. And yet, it was handed to you anyway. Why not take advantage of it?”

Aegon groaned, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. “I don’t care, brother. Why does everyone expect so much from me?”

“Because you piss it all away,” Aemond said, stepping forward and shoving Aegon’s shoulder. “You don’t have any idea how lucky you are.”

Before anyone could actually get hurt, you rushed in between them, pushing them both a few steps back.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you have any idea how late the hour is?”

“Yes, brother,” Aemond said, exasperatedly throwing his hands up. “Do you? Or have you forgotten the time in the bottom of a cup? Perhaps on the Street of Silk?”

Aegon grumbled, trying to step past you, but you held him back. You narrowed your eyes at him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stop. I won’t ask again.”

You turned back to Aemond, who looked like he had grown tired of the conversation already.

“Are you done?” You asked, raising a brow. “Must you antagonize him? You know it will do no good.”

Aemond groaned, taking a step back. “Must you always defend him? He’s infuriating. You’re never nearly as harsh enough with him as you should be.”

“He’s not my child, he’s not mine to discipline,” you said, nodding your head towards Aegon. “The Gods know you and your family do that enough to him already.”

Aemond scoffed, turning around, but you caught his arm, making him wait.

“Wait…listen. Trust me, he doesn’t get away with being an ass around me. He knows well enough that it won’t end well for him.”

Aegon had grown quiet, sulking behind you. You kept your eyes on Aemond, not letting him go.

“But I also don’t purposely antagonize him to warrant a reaction. I understand your frustrations, believe me, I do. But squabbling like children does neither of you any good. He’s your brother, Aemond. Ease up…let it go.”

Aemond grumbled, his face cold, like he was debating on if he should walk away or not. Finally, he softened, gently easing his arm from your grip.

“Fine,” he said, turning around to leave the courtyard. “As you wish.”

Once he was out of earshot, you turned around to face Aegon. He had gone pink, awkwardly shifting back and forth from foot to foot. You gave him a less than impressed look, before turning back in the direction of your chambers.

“Come along, then. You can explain to me what happened on the way. I swear, it is baffling how you two manage to annoy me more and more every day.”

Aegon lightened up, moving to match your stride. “Oh, come on, darling. Just admit it. You enjoy it, you know you do.”

You rolled your eyes at his improved mood, walking faster, letting him trail you all the way back to your chambers.

—

Settling tensions between Aemond and Aegon was far easier than dealing with Otto and the court. Plus, you found it to be the least hurtful to Aegon.

The harsh words that hurt the most…were from his own mother, Queen Alicent.

Aegon knew he was the least favorite, of both his mother and his father. He knew how she valued Aemond, and how she doted on Helaena. He knew that, despite his father neglecting all his youngest children, the King at least had something in common with his younger siblings.

Aegon was almost foreign to him, like a granted wish gone awry.

Despite being the King’s firstborn son, Aegon’s very existence was a constant reminder of all the King and Queen’s failures in the family, and of all the wasted opportunities to strengthen House Targaryen.

To the King, Aegon was a reminder of the years he wasted on wanting a son, neglecting Rhaenyra as his first born.

To Alicent, Aegon was a reminder of how she was a child herself, practically sold and made to squeeze out heirs for the Crown. Aegon was a product of her father’s own selfish ambition, a point of view she could not bring herself to look past.

She loved her son, nobody doubted that.

But she did not like him. The same could be said for the King.

Considering she was the Queen, Aegon’s mother was a lot more difficult for you to stand up to. Speaking directly against her in her presence was not wise, and you often had to bite your tongue and console Aegon about it later.

This evening in particular was proving to be one of the worst times she had publicly treated him, both verbally and physically. Apparently, she had grown quite used to disciplining him in front of you.

If you could even call it that.

It had all happened so fast. You were in the Queen’s chambers, sitting by the fire with her.

One minute, you were having tea with Alicent and listening to her tell you about her day. The next, Aegon had been dragged in by Ser Criston, unsuccessfully fighting against his hold.

Ser Criston dragged him into the center of the room, letting him go before standing in front of the door to block the exit. Not that he necessarily needed to. Aegon couldn’t beat Ser Criston in a fight on a good day. Let alone as drunk as he apparently was.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Grace, My Lady. I found him nearly passed out on the steps outside the training yard. The Prince has apparently already had his fill. Didn’t even make it to Flea Bottom, which is where I presume he was going.”

Alicent closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “You found him? Or someone alerted you of his presence?”

“One of the servants, Your Grace. Apparently he was making quite the fuss before he passed out.”

Aegon collapsed into a nearby chair, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. He let out a groan, leaning back.

As you looked at him, you realized it wasn’t just wine that had weakened his resolve. His eyes were hazy, his movements staggered. He had taken milk of the poppy, and quite a high dosage at that.

An option that he rarely referred to anymore, knowing how much you hated seeing him on it. Something must’ve happened, something bad.

“A fuss?” You asked, trying to avoid staring at Aegon.

“It is not for a Lady’s ears, I’m afraid,” Ser Criston hesitated. “He was…rather crude, I should say. Speaking incoherently to himself, loud enough for the servants to take notice.”

Alicent stood and nodded, brushing her skirts down. “Thank you, Ser Criston. I appreciate your discretion. I will handle it from here, you may go.”

“Yes, My Queen,” he said, nodding to her before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You stood, unsure of whether or not you should leave as well. You would later come to regret not doing so.

Alicent stood in front of Aegon, glaring down at him. “Have you no shame? Is the reputation you already uphold not bad enough? Do you have any idea about the kind of burden you are, not only on yourself, but on your family?”

Aegon didn’t look up, keeping his eyes on the floor. He slumped down in his chair, shielding his eyes from the light of the fire.

“Look at me,” Alicent said, before sharpening her tone enough to make Aegon flinch. “Look at me!”

When he didn’t, she pulled his hair at the nape of his neck back to tilt his head up, before backhanding him across the face. Her ring caught on his cheek, leaving a small cut at the top of his cheekbone.

You quietly gasped, bringing a hand to your mouth to stifle the noise.

Alicent didn’t seem fazed, now gaining Aegon’s attention. “Is it not enough to embarrass me, not only as your Mother and as your Queen, but to embarrass the whole of your family, as well? Does it not embarrass you, carrying yourself like this, in front of them…in front of Y/N? Does it not bother you, what she must think of you?”

Aegon’s eyes flitted to yours, before turning away in shame. You felt your heart ache at the sight, keeping quiet beside your chair.

“How many times must I discuss this with you, Aegon? When will you learn?”

“What’s the point, Mother?” Aegon finally asked, giving her a sad smile. “You’ll be disappointed in me anyway, no matter what I do. Why even bother?”

She slapped him across his cheek again, adding to the already reddened skin. The blood from his cut smeared along his cheekbone. Aegon let out a sound of pain, swallowing his words.

You couldn’t take it any longer, walking over and gently placing your arm on Alicent’s, turning her to you.

“You Grace, I am sorry to interrupt. But it seems I have overstayed my welcome, and I would hate to intrude. I’ll be on my way, if you’ll excuse me.”

She shook her head, grabbing one of your hands in hers. “Not at all, my dear. I enjoyed your company. I thank you for it, and I apologize for my son’s interruption.”

“He was no trouble, My Queen. If you’d like, I can see to it that he makes it back safely to his chambers?”

“That is quite alright, darling,” she said, turning back to Aegon. “I have a few more things I’d like to discuss with my son, but it is kind of you to offer. You may go, Y/N. Thank you for the tea.”

You politely smiled. “Of course. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

You turned to go, hesitating at the door when you heard Alicent retreat back to stand in front of Aegon.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to leave him there, to endure any more of his mother’s wrath. But there was nothing you could do.

There was little you could say this time. There was no way to protect him while it happened, not without risking yourself in the process. And you knew how much Aegon hated when you did that, when it was actually dangerous.

So, you left, returning to your chambers.

You simply had to wait for Aegon to make a decision. It usually boiled down to two options.

Go to Flea Bottom, start drinking, and keep drinking until whatever memory he had of the night disappeared into his cups. Or…he could go to your chambers, and find another kind of comfort there.

You prayed that he’d choose the latter, tonight. You paced back and forth in your chambers for what seemed like hours before you got any answers. You knew the gods ruled in your favor when a feeble knock was heard on your chamber door later that night, making you sigh in relief.

“Come in,” you said, anxiously standing at the foot of your bed.

There was a pause, and then the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled and apprehensive Aegon. He closed the door behind him, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You took the time to look at him, observing his form. The bruise on his cheek had settled in, all black and blue. The cut from his mother’s ring was beginning to scab over, dry blood crusted along his cheekbone. His cheek was reddened, with the slightest imprint of a hand, marking the flesh. A fresh bruise was beginning to form around his temple, a garish green encircling it.

You didn’t even want to know what that one was from.

You slowly approached him, careful not to make any rash movements. “Can I touch you?”

He still didn’t meet your eyes, but slowly nodded.

Gently, you cupped his jaw so you could turn his head, checking for any wounds you could have missed. Slowly and carefully, you moved your hands up to cup his face in your palms, gently running your thumbs across his cheekbones.

Aegon let out a pained whimper, leaning into your touch.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked, moving to pull your hands away. He quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding you still, silently asking for you to not let go.

His voice was shaky. “No.”

“You weren’t drunk, were you?” You asked, resuming running your thumbs across the top of his cheekbones. “It was milk of the poppy.”

His eyes met yours, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You shook your head, shushing him.

“I’m not angry. Just tell me the truth.”

He was reluctant to, but he finally nodded, confirming your suspicions. You sighed deeply, moving your hands to brush his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears.

“Why?”

“You know why,” he replied, his voice quiet.

You did.

Sometimes, getting drunk wasn’t enough. Sometimes, Aegon felt like he was suffocating, and the only way to fill his lungs was to cloud his mind first, easing his thoughts. Milk of the poppy usually did the trick.

You didn’t press the matter further, nodding. “Are you going to tell me what happened after I left?”

“The usual happened,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Mother yelled, I listened. She hit, I got hit. Don’t worry, though, you witnessed the best of it. Don’t think you missed the entertaining part.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sharpening your tone. “Don’t say that. I didn’t enjoy a moment of it, not a single second. Do you think I like watching you get hurt?”

He returned his gaze to the floor, flinching at your sudden change in demeanor. You stopped yourself, not wanting to sound like you were scolding him, like his mother does all too frequently. Gently, you lifted your sleeve and tried to softly wipe away the blood that had stained his cheek.

You were interrupted by a sudden tear, rolling down his cheek. You looked up, only to be met with Aegon’s eyes brimming with tears that were slowly falling down his face like fresh snow from the sky.

“Aegon?” You asked, cupping his chin, trying to make him look at you. The tears kept flowing. Finally, his eyes met yours.

“Am I a burden?”

Your jaw slacked in shock. “What? Of course not, why would you ask that?”

“My Mother believes it to be true,” he said, face crumbling. “That’s what she said, after you left. That I’m a burden to you, always making you clean up my messes.”

You quickly shook your head, gently wiping away his tears. “That’s not true, Aegon. She’s wrong. I don’t do anything for you out of obligation, or because I feel I need to. I do it because I want to. If nobody in this family is going to give you even an ounce of optimism or support, then I’ll happily be the one to do it.”

“You shouldn’t have to–,” he starts, pulling himself from your grip.

“I want to.”

Aegon took a deep breath, and you watched as his shoulders shook and his eyes clouded with tears, all red and bloodshot. He made a sound of frustration, balling his hands into fists at his sides. His voice was desperate.

“I’m trying, Y/N…I’m trying so fucking hard.”

You felt your heart shatter, quickly throwing your arms around his neck. You pulled him close to you, cradling his head with one hand, squeezing him tightly to you with the other. Aegon melted into your embrace, locking his arms around you, desperately clutching at the fabric of your clothes. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt hot tears landing on your skin. You paid them no mind, gently shushing him.

“I know you’re trying,” you said, willing yourself not to cry as well, staying strong for him. “I know. And that’s all I could ever ask of you.”

You leaned back far enough to cup his jaw, wiping away the tears. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently caressing his face.

“I know it seems like nobody is seeing your efforts, or that nobody cares enough to acknowledge them. But I care, alright? I care. I see it, I see you trying. You’re doing your best, Aegon. That’s all you can really do. And if our family can’t see or understand that, it’s their problem. Not yours. Alright?”

He slowly nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours, pulling him along with you to your bed.

“Come on, then. It’s late, you need to lie down. I refuse to deal with you all cranky and sleep deprived in the morning because you were too stubborn to rest.”

Aegon softly grinned, letting you guide him. “What are you talking about? I’m a delight in the mornings.”

“You’re a gremlin in the mornings,” you retorted, patting the space of the bed next to you. “Now lie down. That wasn’t a request.”

Aegon could feel the troubles lifting from his shoulders already, watching you invite him into your space with open arms. He nearly chuckled at the serious face you had put on, one you normally reserved for scoldings.

“As you command, darling,” he said, crawling in next to you. “Who would I be to deny you?”

“A fool.”

Your reply was quick, with absolutely no hesitation in your voice. It made Aegon grin wider as he felt his heart warm, settling himself close beside you.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

—

A/N - Hi! I don’t love this outcome honestly, but I hope this is what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’ll gladly accept another request and try to do better. Let me know what you think.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #house targaryen

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