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joelscruff · 1 year

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one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART THREE

thank you so much for 100 followers and for all the kind replies/likes/reblogs on the previous parts!! yall have no idea how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this fic. things are finally getting a little smutty so i hope you enjoy this part too! PART ONE | PART TWO | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: (for this chapter) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink, thigh riding word count: about 4.3k

As luck would have it, the resort was completely devoid of any major threats. The three of you quietly and carefully searched the cabins and welcome centre, weapons at the ready in case you came across any infected or other people who'd had the same idea you did. There were no signs that anyone had been living here or had even come across the place in the past twenty years; the only evidence of previous life was in the one infected Ellie had discovered, already long gone and practically melded into the wall of the main kitchen. She'd knifed it for good measure, taking maybe a little too much enjoyment out of it while you and Joel watched from a few feet away, giving each other a quick look of concern.

The kitchen itself was disgusting but most of the cupboards and pantries were fully stocked. You watched as Ellie gleefully shoved as many cans of beef ravioli as she could into her pack while Joel grabbed a few cans of tomato sauce and dry pasta.

“Looks like spaghetti's on the menu tonight,” he'd said with a smile, shaking the box of pasta in Ellie's direction, “You ever had spaghetti?”

“Nope, it's just tomatoes and noodles, right?”

“Well I used to make it with more veggies, some green peppers, mushroo-” he cut himself off, making a face, “But this'll do just fine.”

You couldn't help but giggle and he froze for a second to look at you, rolling his eyes when you stifled your laugh and pretended to busy yourself with the box of cornflakes you'd been checking. It wasn't just the mushroom realization that had incited your reaction, but the image of Joel in an average kitchen on an average day cooking spaghetti, maybe singing along to a song on the radio with a dishtowel over his shoulder. The idea of Joel being all cute and domestic was enough to make your chest fill with warmth.

Joel managed to find some more ammo in a storage closet at the back of the welcome centre while you and Ellie searched the cabins more thoroughly. To your absolute joy, most of the cabin bathrooms were still stocked with shampoo and body wash, conditioner, toothpaste, razors, everything you could possibly need to actually give yourself a bit of a pamper session.

“Holy shit, pads!” Ellie had squealed excitedly, throwing the box of feminine hygiene products behind her in delight, “I'm so done with that cup Maria gave me, it's gross.”

“It wouldn't be gross if you actually boiled it like you're supposed to,” you'd replied with a laugh, opening the box to make sure they were usable, “Mine still works great.”

“Yeah but we have to boil them in front of Joel,” she'd groaned, “It's embarrassing.”

“Can't argue with you there,” you'd muttered, but you weren't sure if she heard you.

By the time everything had been checked and taken stock of, darkness had fallen. Ellie was pretty disappointed about not being able to take a bath until morning but you all decided it would ultimately be safer to wait. Joel cooked up his promised spaghetti on one of the many charcoal grills that surrounded the cabins, and that image of domesticity returned to your mind as you watched him stir the pasta, humming to himself. You helped him where you could, filling up a freshly cleaned pan with the tomato sauce and adding some of the spices Joel had picked out, though he'd said that their lack of smell probably indicated a lack of flavour. You really didn't care though, and neither did Ellie; food was food.

Speaking of Ellie, she'd come up with the “exciting” idea that you'd each get your own cabin for the night; there was eight of them, four on one side of a wide dirt path and four on the other side. Each one had a distinct sign outside with a picture of an animal on it – the pig cabin, the horse cabin, the cow cabin, etc. She was currently traipsing through each one, trying to decide where to settle for the night. Each cabin was equipped with two bedrooms and three beds, one queen and two twin. Your first instinct had been to suggest all of you sharing one cabin, but Ellie had shut it down immediately.

You could only assume that you and Joel would be sharing a cabin, but you also didn't want to say anything until it was absolutely necessary. The thought of him choosing a cabin by himself made your heart ache. You looked at him now, his attention focused on the task at hand as he continued to hum a familiar tune you'd heard him hum a few times before.

“I missed this feeling,” you said to him with a nostalgic smile, “I used to help my older sister cook all the time”

He returned your smile, though his eyes stayed on the pasta, “What kinda stuff did you make?”

“Oh, everything. Curry, soup, casseroles, pizza,” you nudged him playfully with your hip, “Spaghetti.”

He chuckled, “Well, nothing tops the Miller family recipe. Me and Sarah, we-” he stopped, biting down on his lip and inhaling sharply.

Slowly, you reached up and placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it with all the gentleness and care you could muster, “It's okay,” you murmured, fingers stroking tenderly at the base of his neck.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, head tilting down in a kind of surrender. You inched your hand upwards to cup his cheek, his beard pressing into your hand, and he opened his eyes again to meet yours. He'd done this a few times lately, mention his daughter. It was rarely directly by name and he usually only brought her up around Ellie, as if he was using it as a way to further his bond with her. You liked hearing him talk about the past, something neither of you rarely ever delved into, but it hurt to see the pain in his eyes when he thought of her. Right now it was as if all the lights had gone out, his gaze far away and dark.

“I want to... talk about her,” he whispered, “but it's so hard.”

“I know,” you breathed, watching the way his eyes softened at your voice, “It'll take time, like everything.”

“You'd think twenty years would be enough time.”

You shook your head, “Things are different now than they were. I see the way you're trying with Ellie, how you're opening up and being more vulnerable,” your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth involuntarily but neither of you flinched, “You love her, don't you?”

He closed his eyes again and nodded slowly, “I do,” he whispered, “It scares the hell outta me.”

“Of course it does. That's normal, Joel,” you reassured him softly, “And it doesn't make you weak either.”

He'd opened his eyes again and they'd drifted to Ellie, who was a fair distance away trying to readjust a cabin sign with a duck on it that had fallen over. He smiled fondly at her, staring in her direction for a few seconds before turning back to you.

“So which cabin are you gonna pick?” he asked, slowly pulling away from your touch and bringing his attention back to the food, “I hear the duck one is pretty popular.”

Your hand felt empty without his cheek under it but you understood; she was too close, if she looked in your direction she'd see the way you were standing together. You cleared your throat and started stirring the sauce as it began to simmer.

“I don't know, maybe the dog one. I miss my dog,” you frowned to yourself, “Or maybe the horse 'cause I miss Callus.”

“Now this conversation is just downright depressing,” he sighed dramatically, “How 'bout the sheep one? Reckon the bed'll be fluffier?” he grinned at you and you nudged him again, rolling your eyes playfully. “Or the pig one? Maybe the sheets'll smell like bacon.”

You made a face, “You're gross.”

“And you love it,” he said it with a flirtatious air that was palpable immediately and it stunned you momentarily, your eyes widening a bit as you felt your face get hot. At the same moment his smile faded and a look of recognition crossed his expression, like he realized he'd gone too far. He quickly picked up the pot with the pasta in it and walked a few steps away from you to drain it, pretending like he hadn't said anything.

You sighed to yourself and took the sauce off the heat, walking over to one of the picnic tables with your cheeks still burning.

I do love it, you idiot.

Joel stayed chipper during dinner despite his moment of sadness – and his moment of flirting. He ended up telling a story about the first time he'd visited a hot spring in his youth, both him and Ellie laughing through a particularly cheeky part about Tommy getting yelled at by their father for peeing in the water. You just sat there listening and watching the two of them, a smile practically plastered to your face. God... this was your family. This little trio of broken humans had become the most vital facet of your life, not only for your survival but your happiness, your joy, your love. Ellie had become your little pal; it made your heart feel like it was going to burst when you thought about how you'd taken on that older sister role that your own had left behind when she'd died. Relationships didn't disappear...they evolved, took on new forms.

And Joel had become... that, you weren't exactly sure. But he wasn't just your friend anymore, that much you knew from the way he looked at you, the way he surrendered to your touch, the way he touched you back. The way how every so often during his story his gaze would meet yours as a quiet reminder that he wasn't just trying to make Ellie laugh, he wanted to make you laugh too. You loved seeing him so animated, making faces and gesturing wildly while Ellie threw her head back and giggled with abandon. Part of you wanted to inch in beside him and lay your head against his shoulder while he talked, wanted to feel the vibration of his deep voice in your bones and feel the strength of his thick muscle against your temple. You just wanted him to hold you like he did when you were alone; you wanted him to always hold you.

“Well, I'm going to bed,” Ellie said with a yawn after the spaghetti was long gone and the fire had started to die down, “I'm in the duck cabin if you need me. I could take second watch if you want,” she looked at Joel expectantly, raising her eyebrows.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “We got that covered, you go on and get some sleep.”

“Night,” she called back to the both of you, already walking toward her cabin.

You both called back to her and watched as she disappeared behind the door of the cabin with the duck sign outside of it, which was no longer tilting to the side but firmly back in the ground. She'd fixed it.

“She loved that story,” you said with a smile, turning back to Joel, “She's gonna want you to tell it again tomorrow, guaranteed.”

“All good, it'll give me time to prep for my show in Vegas,” he replied cheekily, and you laughed.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you figured the time had come to ask about the cabin situation. Right before you were about to ask, Joel spoke.

“You get lost in thought a lot, you know,” he said quietly, and you looked up to see him staring at you tenderly, “Always wonder what you're thinkin' about.”

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, you hugged your legs to your chest and breathed deeply, breaking eye contact to look at the fire as you replied, “You, usually.”

He didn't say anything and you worried you shouldn't have said what you said, hugging yourself tighter. Figuring you couldn't dig yourself any deeper, you continued:

“I was thinking about which cabin we're gonna sleep in.”

When he didn't reply again you finally looked over at him, surprised to see that he was still looking at you. He didn't look angry or uncomfortable, but his expression wasn't unreadable either. He looked...content. He was giving you that familiar look that he did in the early mornings, blinking slowly, like he was savouring the little time he had left to just stare at you. You felt your face get warm and you broke eye contact, smiling down at your knees.

“Sheep, I think,” he finally broke the silence, voice coming out slightly breathless, “Let's see how fluffy that bed really is.”

This would be the first time you'd be sharing an actual bed with Joel, and in truth you were slightly terrified. The last time you'd been in a bed with a man it hadn't exactly been a quiet or comfortable experience, quiet being the operative word, and that's all you could think about now as you opened the cabin door and traipsed quietly through the living room, Joel walking behind you. You slipped your pack off your shoulders once you arrived in the master bedroom, laying your still-lit flashlight on the dresser so you both could see. You and Ellie had checked all the beds earlier and they actually weren't that bad, if not covered in a thick layer of dust that you'd had to shake out. You slowly made your way over to the bed, then looked over at Joel who was still standing in the doorway.

“We probably don't need our jackets,” you said to break the palpable tension, shrugging out of your heavy coat and laying it carefully on a chair in the corner, “There's a sheet, a duvet, and a quilt so it should be pretty warm.”

He nodded and removed his pack, then his coat, leaving him standing there in his plaid button-down and jeans. It was slightly comical that you were about to get in bed with a man who'd been wearing the same outfit for months, but it's not like you could talk – you'd been wearing the jeans, tank top, and sweater combo for almost the same length of time. Which reminded you...

“Oh, me and Ellie found some deodorant,” you reached into your bag and pulled out a lady speed stick, “It's not the manliest scent but I mean, it's a scent.”

He winced as he took it, and you were confused until he said, “I stink, don't I?”

“You actually don't,” you meant it too, smiling earnestly at him, “You kinda smell like pine needles most of the time, honestly.”

He huffed out a laugh and you watched as he reached the deodorant up into his shirt, exposing his stomach to you as he applied it. You caught a glimpse of his stitches, still holding up pretty good, but your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the trail of hair that lead from his belly button to his belt buckle, dark but tinged with a few grays here and there that sparkled in the glow of the flashlight. You suddenly felt a slight throb in your jeans and you quickly broke your gaze, turning back toward the bed and pulling the sheets back to distract yourself.

Now is not the time, you thought aggressively, searching the bedding one more time for anything you and Ellie might have missed, you've spent two weeks sleeping next to this man and now you wanna feel horny? Stop.

“Bright side is we can actually get clean tomorrow,” he said, tossing the deodorant back into your pack and walking around to the other side of the bed, not before flicking off the flashlight and plunging you both into total darkness.

“God, I know, I'm so excited,” you climbed into bed, trying to sound normal as you felt the mattress sink on his side as he did the same thing, “Hot water, can you imagine? I might not leave.”

He chuckled and it made you smile. He wants you here, you reminded yourself, there's no need to be so nervous.

You inhaled deeply and, before you could think too much about it, you curled into his side, arms finding their usual place around his solid form. Without any hesitation you felt Joel's hand at your back, holding you there. Part of you wanted to say something else, to keep talking to him, but the immediate comfort of his embrace quickly made your eyes close in defeat.

“'Night,” he whispered to you softly, “I'll wake you when it's time to head for the springs.”

You hummed in response, the promise of a hot bath fresh in your mind as you drifted off. It was that very specific image, the idea of you and Joel bathing together in the hot spring, that gave you one of the best dreams you'd had in a long time.

You were suddenly awoken by some kind of weird mewling, a high pitched breathless sound that sounded oddly familiar but you were too sleepy to place it. Your eyes tightened and you tried to ignore it; you'd been having such a good dream. Mere seconds ago you'd been standing in the middle of the hot spring with Joel, clothes abandoned, his bare arms wrapped around you and holding you flush against his naked body, waist deep in steaming water.

Irritated, you tried to bring the image back, only to be interrupted by Joel's voice in your ear saying your name. Your brow furrowed, followed by that weird moan again.

“Wake up,” Joel said again, repeating your name.

You slowly blinked your eyes open in confusion, the keening sound reverberating in your ears again, only to realize mere seconds later that the sound was coming from you. You also realized that you were no longer tucked into Joel's side, but were instead practically on top of him with his thigh between your legs. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you put two and two together.

You'd been riding his thigh. And moaning. In your sleep.

Your head snapped up and you immediately felt like you had to get away, yank yourself off of him and run out of the cabin as fast as humanly possible. You could survive in the woods by yourself, right? You didn't actually need to be going on this long trek with Joel and Ellie, right? You could just disappear and never have to face this humiliation, right?

“Oh my god,” you tried pulling back but felt his grip on your arms, keeping you from getting off of him, “Joel, I'm so sorry, this is so fucking embarrassing.”

“Shh,” he replied, and you wished you could see his expression in the darkness, “It's okay, don't be embarrassed, you're fine.”

“But I-”

“You've been doin' it for maybe fifteen seconds tops,” he reassured you, “I woke you up as soon as I realized. It's okay.” He was still holding you in place and your mind was too muddled to wonder why, so you just shoved your hands over your face, “Hey, it's alright, look at me.”

“I can't even see you,” you muttered into your hands. But god, you could feel him. His thick and strong thigh was tight between your legs, the material of his jeans pressing right against your centre in exactly the right place. You were pounding, beyond wet in your underwear and you were sure Joel could feel the heat you were radiating. Involuntarily, your hips bucked again and you shuddered out a breathless whimper at the sensation.

You felt his hands move from your arms and start to pry your fingers apart. When you opened your eyes and focused on what was in front of you, his face started to become slightly clearer in the darkness. His brow was furrowed and you could see that he was staring directly into your eyes, no signs of discomfort or embarrassment to be seen.

“I'm gonna ask you somethin' and I need you to answer me honestly,” he breathed, the sound travelling directly to your core. “I'm only gonna say it once, okay?”

You shivered, trying to focus on his voice, nodding in response to his words, “Okay.”

“You don't have to stop,” he stated, voice steady and sincere, “you can keep going. Do you want that?”

You stared, dumbstruck.

“Do you want to keep going?” he repeated softly, and without hesitation you buried your face in his warm neck, hands coming up to grip his shoulders as you bared down on him.

“Yes,” you practically moaned into his ear, “Please.”

“Okay,” he whispered, and you felt his arms wind around you, pulling you as close as possible to him, “C'mere.” The words practically set your nerve endings on fire and you groaned, pressing your face further against his skin and shutting your eyes tight, hips bucking under his arms.

Not even taking a second to think about what was happening, you started rubbing yourself against him again, this time fully aware of what you were doing. His arms held you tight to his body and helped you move into a rhythm, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips that had become exposed in the commotion. You whined into his neck, feeling the harsh prickles of his beard against your cheek as he helped you get off.

“Joel,” you whimpered, feeling one of his hands travel up the back of your shirt and press flush against your spine.

“I've got you,” he murmured, “Keep goin', don't think about it.”

You keened beneath his touch, hands coming up to thread through his hair as you turned your head slightly to nose against the heat of his throat. Him telling you not to think was laughable – you couldn't think of anything else other than the way your body felt entwined with his even if you'd wanted to. You could feel him everywhere, his hand still at your back, the other one travelling upwards to cradle the back of your head, holding you to his skin. The size of his palm against you, the wideness, it sent a wave of tingles throughout your entire being, causing you to emit another moan against his adam's apple. He was so large and solid compared to you and despite the heated desperation of your embrace, he still held you like you were precious, breakable. It made you that much wetter.

“There you go,” he breathed softly into your hair as you rutted against him, baring down on his thigh like your life depended on it, “Just feel it, take what you need.”

He'd never talked to you like this; the protectiveness was always there, the fondness, but the way he whispered to you now was special, private. He spoke to you like you were his, rotated your hips against his thigh like your body was an extension of his own. His hot breath was a steady presence at your ear, quickening in pace as he began to help you move faster, palming the bare flesh of your back and moving his hand upwards slightly so his fingers just barely brushed the skin of your breast. Part of you wanted to see his expression, see if he was just as turned on as you were, but the question was answered when you brushed against his crotch and felt the unmistakably hard length of him straining against his jeans. At your slight touch, he elicited a breathless groan in your ear.

It was enough to send you over the edge.

“I'm gonna come,” you practically sobbed, eyes still shut tight as you bucked wildly and moved your hands to grip his arms again, nails digging into the fabric of his button-down, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Good girl,” you heard him whisper into your hair, and you were gone, thighs clamping around him as your whole body began to shake. He just held you tightly and let you ride it out, murmuring “that's it,” and stroking his thumb against the skin of your back soothingly.

In any other circumstance you would have been ashamed at how quickly it took you to finish, but it had been years since you'd been this close to another person, and months since you'd had an actual orgasm. The fact that Joel had been the one to give it to you hadn't helped you hold out very long either. Your whole body suddenly felt like jelly, head heavy and eyes unable to open.

“Joel,” you moaned his name quietly, breathless as you lay spent on top of him, “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

He chuckled softly, stroking your hair, “Go ahead, I'm not goin' anywhere.”

“But you didn't...” you mumbled, feeling boneless as you felt yourself begin to drift, “What about you?”

“Shh,” he carefully adjusted you so you were sheltered against his side again, your hands immediately coming up to grip his button-down as you buried your face in his chest, “Don't worry 'bout me, you go back to sleep.”

“'Kay,” you whispered, sighing peacefully and winding your arms around his strong torso, smiling to yourself when you felt his hand in your hair again, thumb caressing the back of your head.

You swore you heard him say something else, but by then sleep had overtaken you. This time, you dreamed of sheep.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #*#fic: one thing i'm missing

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flowerandblood · 1 year

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The Crime and Punishment (2)

[modern! lawyer • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: sex content, age gap, smut, angst, domination kink, sexual tension]

[description: Aemond becomes a co-owner of one of the largest law firms in the area. He is invited to cooperate by one of the best lawyers he knows. While working in the evenings on further matters at his house, he meets his daughter, much younger than him, whose behavior gives him sleepless nights. Anon Request: Age gap, domination, lots of sexual tension and guilt.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

______

A few days had passed since he touched her for the first time. They both tried to pretend that nothing had happened. They did not look at each other and did not speak to each other. There was tension between them as they were left alone in the room. It felt like some kind of competition.

Her father often asked her for help in the law firm. Mostly when it comes to documentation. Of course, they had everything electronically stored, but they also had to have copies of the files in separate folders and binders in case something happened.

Aemond hated messy paperwork. She'd seen him scolding his assistant many times for not being able to arrange them properly and for putting them all over the place.

As far as she knew, the girl also studied law and did an apprenticeship with him. But she didn't seem to be able to handle the pressure and demands he placed on her.

"Leave it. Go home now. I'll take care of it." She said to her once, putting her backpack on a chair.

It was hot despite the air conditioning. For this reason she decided to wear a dress with small flowers, pretty and girly, with a triangle neckline. The girl looked at her gratefully.

"Thank you. I owe you lunch." She sputtered tiredly, putting down the pages she had been sorting. She packed her things from her desk and left.

She went to work, standing at the table where all the documentation from the previous month was spread out. From a drawer she took a piece of divider and a marker.

She knew what he liked.

Each client was to have their own binder. Inside, each case was to be separated by a red sheet with its number, date and table of contents - so you could see where one began and the other ended.

They had to be accurately described. The case was to be divided into parts: the evidences, the opinions of the experts, their discussions recorded by ear, the testimonies of the witnesses, the testimony of the client himself, the evidences of the prosecutor's office.

This order had to be followed, no other. Each part should be arranged logically, fragments of the statements of the same witnesses were to be arranged one after the other, so as not to look for them further. If there were any small notes or footnotes among the papers, they had to be stapled to the relevant document they concerned with a stapler.

She arranged everything with care. She put the sheets of paper into piles, and then put everything as one part into a binder. She flinched when she heard his voice behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asked coldly, standing in the doorway. She wondered how long he had been watching her silently.

She went back to her work, pretending she wasn't impressed by the sight of him in a tight, thin black turtleneck hugging his chest. She wondered how it was possible that he wasn't too hot inside.

"I'm putting together your documentation." She said softly as she stapled the two sheets together.

"Where is Hannah?" He asked indifferently, walking over to the table where she stood, roughly leafing through one of the binders that she had just set aside.

"I sent her home because she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Should I call her?" She asked as she tucked pieces of paper into a plastic sleeve. A momentary silence answered her.

"No." He said finally, without commenting further, sitting down at his desk. She knew it was a sign that she was doing her job well and he couldn't find anything to complain about.

She decided that she would work standing up since she led such a sedentary lifestyle. She allowed him to look at her long, shapely legs without restriction. She wondered if he was just thinking about how soft her skin felt when he touched her.

She heard him start typing on his laptop. He was probably replying to a client. She glanced at her watch - it was seven o'clock in the evening. She wondered when he rested.

She had heard that he had dumped his long-time partner, Alys, precisely because she wanted him to give up his career and start a family with her. In six years of relationship he hadn't even proposed to her, and her biological clock was ticking.

Turns out they have other priorities in life.

She guessed he wasn't a sexual ascetic, but she knew he hadn't had a long-term relationship with anyone since then. She wasn't going to be his adventure. One of the smiling journalists or clerks that he could fuck once in the back room. She wanted him to die of despair because of her.

A knock on the open door snapped her out of her thoughts. Daemon, a close friend of her father's for many years, stood there. He was a well-known forensic pathologist, helping them with their cases and determining the possible course of events. He often came to visit them and helped her father when her mother left them and he struggled with depression, unable to get out of bed.

"Would you like a quick snack before the restaurant downstairs closes?" He asked lightly, smiling out of the corner of his mouth.

She thought that he always looked very good. His slicked-back hair, gallant smile, unbuttoned jacket, casually buttoned shirt. He was a very handsome man, and she thought it was great that he'd asked her that in front of Aemond. She smiled broadly.

"Of course." She said lightly and glanced at Aemond who was glaring at her from his laptop. "Do you mind? I promise I'll finish it today. I have the keys to the office." She said calmly.

He looked away, starting typing again on his laptop. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

"No."

***

She and Daemon sat at one of the tables. It was practically empty around them because all the offices, except theirs, were already closed. Daemon ordered a drink, she took tea and a piece of chocolate cake. He stared at her for a moment in concentration.

"How are you?" He asked finally, taking a sip of his drink. She looked at him from under her long lashes and smiled slightly.

"All right." She answered briefly, taking a piece of cake on a small fork into her mouth. Daemon looked at her expectantly.

"You still don't speak to her?" He asked finally. She looked at him with furrowed brows.

"No, Dad." She said maliciously, giving him a warning look. He laughed at her words and shook his head.

"You're going to have to do it eventually." He grunted as he took a sip from his glass. She sighed heavily, looking away.

"My dad told you to talk to me?" She asked tired. She hated bringing it up again. It was a closed chapter for her. Daemon stared at her silently.

"He worries about you." He finally said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

There was something rakish and youthful about him, a certain arrogance and energy that always impressed her. She couldn't be mad at him. She smiled pityingly.

"I know. But I don't think I have to explain anything. Not even to you." She said, as she popped a piece of cake into her mouth and ate deliberately, keeping her eyes on him. He looked at her thoughtfully. He didn't speak for a moment.

"You know that if you need to talk, you can always count on me." He said finally. She smiled warmly at him.

"I know."

***

After a few minutes they got up and said goodbye. He was already on his way home and she was climbing the stairs up to their office. On the way she met her father, who was running downstairs in a hurry.

"There's a new witness in the case. I need to question him. Can you get yourself an Uber home?" He asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. She shivered with excitement at the thought of being alone with Aemond in the office.

"Yes, don't worry." She said lightly. He nodded and ran downstairs.

She walked slowly down the corridor thinking hard about what she should do. She decided that the best option was to let him look at her. She knew that just being alone with each other would make the tension unbearable for them. She decided that there was no reason to exaggerate and to show him anything more than she herself wanted.

She entered the code and heard a confirmation beep that the password was correct. She went inside and walked through the glass walls to the only room with a light on.

She saw with surprise that he got hot after all, and he was left in just a tight black T-shirt, a nice little watch with a black strap on his wrist. He was leaning over the papers on the table she had been dealing with.

He gave her a quick glance, eyeing her up and down, as if to see if she really had eaten something or if she was doing something else with Daemon. Deciding to pretend not to see it, she stood next to him, getting to work without saying a word.

He sorted the sheets and documents as he saw fit, handing them to her and telling her the client's name and case number. She wrote it down, working with complete concentration, her small hands slipping the pages into plastic sleeves and placing them in the correct order into binders.

She smelled the intense scent of his cologne water and felt with amusement that her nipples hardened slightly, her insides clenched, hot and moist. She thought it was ridiculous how much he affected her.

She glanced thoughtfully at his large hands, lines of veins showing through their skin. He had slender fingers. She remembered how nice their touch felt on her skin, and a pleasant shiver ran through her. She turned her head as she went back to work. She closed several ready-made binders and walked over to the regiment, clearing space and putting them in their proper place.

She heard him move and stand behind her. Her movements slowed in tension, wondering what he would do. She felt him place one of the files on the shelf above her head, placing it on top of the others. She could feel his breath and the warmth of his body. Her heart was pounding like crazy.

Slowly she slid the last of the binders into place, her hand trembling slightly. She felt that he hadn't moved away, his hand still searching for something just above her. She knew he was pretending.

She placed her hands on the shelf in front of her, not moving. She felt that he wanted her to turn to face him, to show with her eyes how much she wanted him. She decided she wouldn't give him the satisfaction and waited for him to pull away.

A strong, aggressive shudder went through her, as she felt his fingertips brushing against the side of her thigh. He guided them as he had done then, up and down, lifting her dress slightly, so that once in a while he could see the fabric of her panties. She swallowed hard, feeling her own wetness between her thighs.

Her fingers tightened on the shelf in front of her and she leaned forward slightly, her buttocks landing on his pants right behind her. They both sucked in a sharp breath as her butt pressed against the bulge hidden under his fly. His hand tightened around her buttock as she began to rub innocently up and down against him, feeling the pleasure of him throbbing under her.

"Stop." He whispered softly. She wondered if he was trying to convince himself or her.

"Just do it." She said softly, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt him freeze, his breath caught in his throat.

They were panting softly, rubbing against each other slowly and intensely, she could feel him completely hard now. His thumb pushed the material of her panties aside, exposing her wet, fleshy structure to him, all hot and throbbing. He ran his thumb over her entry, lapping it in her fluids, his breath quivering slightly.

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, unsure of himself. She had never heard him talk to anyone like that before. It turned her on even more. All she wanted was for him to fuck her.

"Yes." She whispered softly, her lips quivering slightly, her face pressing against the bookcase in front of her.

She began to breathe faster when she heard the sudden sound of the belt from his pants being unfastened and his fly being unzipped. She felt him pull her panties down to her knees.

She couldn't suppress a soft moan of delight as she felt his huge, throbbing manhood begin to rub against her, sticky with her wetness. He held her buttocks, parting her in front of him, his cock literally slithering over her dripping entrance.

"Are you so wet for Daemon too?" He asked low and mean, his voice quivering slightly, his fingers tightening on her skin. She smiled to herself, breathing deeply through her mouth, unable to bear the tension between her thighs. His jealousy was like a honey to her ears.

"Are you trying to accuse me of something, Your Honor?" She asked lightly, wetting her lips with her saliva, her fingers tightening on the shelf in front of her.

She gasped as she felt him grab her by the throat and pull her higher, until his mouth was at her ear. She was surprised that she liked it. He wasn't violent, but he was determined. He didn't want to give her control.

"Yes. I think you like an older man to fuck you well." He hissed softly into her ear, her lips parting slightly.

"So what are you waiting for?" She asked quietly. Silence answered her, his body froze for a moment.

She moaned loudly, suddenly feeling him deep inside her. Her lips parted in shock as he filled her so much that he barely fit. He must have been just as surprised, because a helpless, short moan escaped his lips. She wondered if she would be able to get more of such wonderful sounds out of him.

His cock began to move inside her, and they both gasped loudly, unable to contain themselves or pretend they weren't enjoying it. He slid in and out of her in an intense, hard rhythm, his throbbing cock rubbing against the soft, moist, sensitive skin inside her.

His balls hit her ass with a wet slap each time he thrust into her again. She couldn't help but moan loudly every time he rubbed against the spot inside her that her fingers always sought when she touched herself. Hearing this, he began to fuck her there on purpose, making her pant in pleasure.

"So close already?" He asked ironically, speeding up, his thighs wet with her juices hitting her with a loud, sticky slap, her fleshy, hot walls pressing desperately around him.

They both breathed heavily, feeling they wouldn't last long. She swallowed hard in humiliation at hearing his words. She couldn't help it, no one had ever fucked her so wonderfully before. Her nipples were painfully hard, her insides swollen and bloodshot with excitement.

"Yes." She mumbled softly, her hips responding greedily to his every thrust as he pumped his cock deep into her, pushing her tight walls to breaking point.

"Do you take pills?" He whispered quickly, panting harder and harder, accelerating, as they both fucked greedily, the shameless, wet sound of their bodies hitting each other reverberating across the room.

"Yes, please, come inside me, please, please, please!" She moaned loudly and sobbed as she felt his fingers on her clit, massaging it in intense, circular motions. Her lips parted in a soundless moan, her body arched in pleasure as she felt a powerful, wonderful orgasm surge through her body, knocking her unconscious for a moment.

She heard him groan loudly as he felt her walls pressing down on him greedily. He couldn't take it any longer, he thrusted in her one last time and just came inside her, semen flowing out of him in waves.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He was panting low, furious with himself, and at the same time delighted with the pleasure that he was experiencing right now. His nose and forehead brushed her hair, inhaling her scent. They both moved for a moment, unable to stop. Silence fell between them, broken only by their heavy, labored breathing.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered, his voice trembling slightly as if he was terrified of what he had just done. She slid her hand off the shelf and placed it on his hand, still holding her hip. She stroked him gently and reassuringly, his face still buried in her hair.

"Don't be. Let's get back to work."

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost

Others: @fan-goddess @itsabby15 @fangirlninja67 @the-common-cowgirl

If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

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tillthelandslide · 9 months

Text

Same For You: (4) No Need to Explain

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

A/n: okay.... Here's part 4, honestly I am so so excited for you guys to see what it's in store for this series, every chapter I am more and more proud of and I am really enjoying working on this, it's actually making me so happy and I love this series (never thought I'd say that about my own work) I know it's a bit slow to get going but please bare with me.... It will be worth it truth me! Love you lots - Lou 🫶🏼

IM SORRY I JUST COULDN'T WAIT TO POST IT...

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername (if you want to be added please just drop me a message 🫶🏼)

Series Masterlist

(3) The Deal

Matty's house was very... Plain? She was unsure whether that was the appropriate word to describe it, she liked it, it felt arty and edgy, but she preferred a space that felt like home. Of course there were things scattered around his house that screamed "Matty". Things that added a special touch to his space, but she felt a little lonely looking around the hallway, following the man into his kitchen.

"Nice place" she comments, not entirely telling the truth. His eyes find her face and he scans it, noting the way she smiled but how it didn't quite reach her eyes, a tell tale sign of her lying.

"Really? Doesn't really seem liked your kind of thing" he asks and she pulls a funny face at him, not able to lie. He only chuckles at her as he clicks the kettle on.

"Bit too neat for my liking..." She says and he laughs again. His house was visually pleasing, she'd be silly to deny that, but it didn't feel lived in. She likes the feeling she got when she went back to her mother's house, the warm feeling in her stomach, her heart feeling like it was back home again. She didn't get that from Matty's place and looking around the room, she didn't see how he could feel that way either.

"You can call me boring love, it's fine....I won't take offense" she shakes her head, and again he's laughing. She gets that feeling in her stomach again, it dips and then soars and she thought it was only one reserved for Ross, but now, sitting across from Matty, she's learning that maybe that wasn't the case.

"No... No not boring, just wasn't what I expected is all. I like it, it's very aesthetic. Just not as homey as I personally like..." She pauses as she looks around the room, even his kitchen was clean cut and raw, there weren't many decorations and if she didn't know him she'd think he'd just moved in.

"Does it not get lonely? I can imagine it would" she says and if she was asked, she'd blame it on the alcohol she'd consumed. She takes in the furrow of Mattys eyebrows and the way he runs a hand along his chin as he looks at her. Matty quite liked the way she was unwaveringly honest with him, she didn't hold herself back despite people typically doing so when they hadn't known each other all that long. Matty was like that too... Another similarity that drew them together.

"Sorry....I'm intruding" she says just as the kettle clicks, Matty turns away from her, attending to the tea.

"How'd you take it love?" He asks, ignoring the desire to take the piss out of his own words, make an innuendo just to ease some of the tension. But he then thinks it's better to just welcome it, for it was with her, if it was her asking questions that made him slightly uncomfortable, he knew he wouldn't mind all that much.

"Milky please... Two sugars" she says and he makes it how she likes, turning back to her and placing the tea in front of her.

"We can sit in my living room if you'd like? Slightly more 'homey" then the rest of the house" he jests and she raises a hand over her heart, feigning hurt.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" She says and she begins following him to the other room.

"I mean, I invited you into my home and so far all you've done is take the piss" he jokes, he sits down, quite close to her considering the sofa was large enough for three. He sees her shiver and he sighs.

"hold this a second" he asks, despite the fact he has a coffee table. She does as he says and their fingers graze before he disappears, running upstairs. Whilst he's gone she takes in the two mugs she's holding and the sight brings a genuine smile to her lips.

His is a white mug with red writing that reads "world's best dad", whilst he's given her another white mug that reads "some people just need a high five" in big letters with smaller letters underneath that read "in the face with a chair" she chuckles out loud and she can hear Matty hum from upstairs.

She then hears him run back down the stairs, before he's standing before her again, a large hoodie resting in his arms.

"Here" he says, handing it to her.

"thanks" she says, handing him both cups as she tugs the jumper over her head. It seems like cigarettes and him and the edges are frayed but the fabric underneath is soft and feels warm against her skin. The fabric was creased, it had been worn recently, he had worn it and again that warm fuzzy feeling appears in her stomach. She tries to push it away as she peers across at him, taking in the small smile that rests against his mouth, she watches his eyes rake down her form and her mouth goes dry. She shouldn't be feeling like this, it was wrong.

"cute' he comments as he gives her the mug back, she simply smiles at him. He holds his cup in one hand, resting his arm around the back of the sofa, hand resting next to her head as they look at each other.

"Nice mugs" she laughs again and his eyes flick between the mugs, bringing the hand that's next to her up to his face when he realises what he's done.

"I'm so sorry" there's no real reason to apologise so she brings her hand to his and takes it away from her face and squeezes it, shaking her head at him.

"It's fine... I like them - very you" he raises his eyebrows at that and she laughs again, he laughs alone with her after a beat. Eventually when their laughter dies down, his eyes flick to her their intertwined hand and he feels himself blush. His mind flicks to Ross, and he immediately pulls his hand away (although gently as to not offend her) and he places it back next to her head.

"To answer your question earlier... Yes, it gets lonely" he says and she smiles sadly at him.

"Bet you're hardly here though right? Always on the road?" She asks and he nods.

"Yeah... Don't spend that much time here... Sometimes makes it worse to be honest" he says and she frowns at him.

"How so?"

"When we're on tour, I got my boys y'know. The truth is, they're home to me... So when I'm here and they're not... It's just lonely" he says and she nods, understanding. She leans her head against his hand, and he smiles at her as she does. Her cheek is warm against the skin there and he feels electricity spark against his hand.

He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and grasp her face in his hold, never letting her go... But he couldn't... Not when it was clear Ross was also interested. He debates whether to bring up the bassist and despite knowing he shouldn't, he can't help it.

"Looked awfully cosy with Ross tonight... Wearing his jacket and everything" Matty comments. She knew something was up earlier, and she feels conflicted that he seems to be bothered by it. She felt more than confused about her feelings, it was obvious she cared for Matty too much already, he made her smile and laugh, and she had that warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach when she spoke to him.

But Ross excited her, she wanted to know everything there was to know about him, she also felt at home with the man. He could smile and her heart would soar and her hairs would stand on end. She was fucked.

"You don't like that" she says, it wasn't a question, it was a statement and Matty doesn't know how to respond.

"I wouldn't say that no... I dunno y/n. I feel sort of protective over you. Not that Ross would do anything bad. Quite the opposite. I dunno. It's complicated"

Complicated didn't even begin to describe it. She had never felt this way before, she couldn't pinpoint what she felt for the both of them, but she also felt horrible because the truth was she hardly knew either of them yet, not truly, not for long enough.

"Nothing will happen if you don't want it to" she says and she doesn't really know why she does, it just slips out. She didn't know how to feel and clearly her brain wasn't functioning properly. She knew ideally she shouldn't be thinking about either of them this way, she was working with them now. It was unprofessional.

"Do you want something to happen?" He asks and he watches as she removes her face from against his hand, taking a sip of her tea as she shrugs.

"I hardly know either of you Matty... And I'm about to be working with you both. So it's not a good idea" she says and he nods slowly, eyes wandering over her facial features, fingertips plucking his lips, rolling the bottom one between his thumb and finger. As he looks at her in can't help but find a flaw in her words, they did know each other, maybe they hadn't known each other for very long but he already knew things about her that made him care for her deeply, that made him yearn for her.

"Okay... But ignore that for a second. What do you feel?" He asks and she just laughs, because she couldn't give him an answer. She didn't know. Or she was in denial.

"I don't know" she says honestly. The only way she could describe it, was that she felt a pull towards the both of them, she was unsure what that meant, or whether that meant she liked one or the other, but she knew when she was with Matty, she didn't feel so alone, he was with someone who was similar to her, who understood the dark parts of her soul.

But when she was with Ross, she felt like she was the person she wanted to be, someone desired, someone wanted. Ross represented a different part of herself, someone free, someone happy, someone who finally felt at home and she liked who she was and how she felt when she was around him.

"Hmm" he doesn't press any further and instead they both finish their tea and she explains that she should head home soon. She retrieves her phone from Matty's coat pocket, the both of them standing at his door as they wait for the Uber to arrive. She peers at the time, 1:02 it reads and she frowns slightly, seeing a text from Ross. She's still wearing his hoodie and she doesn't plan on taking it off and he smiles at that.

"Thank you for the tea" she says and somehow his hand weaves its way into hers, most of it is hidden under the fabric but his hand slips beneath it, grasping the warm but small hand in his.

"You're welcome" he says, pulling her towards him to hug her tightly. His arms wrap around her waist, and he pulls her up slightly, forcing her on her tip toes. Her arms weave their way across his shoulders, tucking her head to the side against his chest as his tuck into her neck.

She feels his breath caressing her skin and feels the symphony of his heart, drumming against her ear. It was intimate, it was nice. He sighs deeply and she feels his lips contort into a smile against her neck, they weren't pressed against the skin but they grazed it. Goosebumps. She had goosebumps.

"Let me know when you're home okay?" She nods into his embrace "and maybe... If you figure out how you're feeling... Give me a text" he says and his words surprise her, she doesn't know what they mean, or what he wants. She pulls away from the man, looking up into his eyes and nodding. Their hands don't let go of each other until their fingertips are unable to touch anymore and finally they drop.

She then slips into the Uber and feels even more confused then she initially did, especially when she sees two more texts from Ross.

"Love? Xx" One reads.

"I'm hoping you've just fallen asleep... Won't take offense this time 😋xx" the next reads.

"I'm so so sorry! I wasn't ignoring you I swear.. Matty left his keys in his coat and I dropped them off. On my way home now though. I promise I'm safe xx" she replies back, seeing three dots appear before they disappear again.

She frowns at that, did she upset him?

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀ •°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

She meets with the band the next day, explaining the plans in further detail to them. They all (apart from Jay) seem to be okay with the idea, excited to be working the band.

"Alright Jay stop being a dick, you could've easily come to the meeting with y/n and had your say but you didn't... So now majority rules and you're going to have to deal with it" Abbie argues, standing up for her friend which ultimately y/n is thankful for.

Jay sighs and pouts whilst the rest ask some more questions, all of which she answers happily.

"So Matty is really keen to have all of us in the studio together, give us a chance to get to know everyone... We can sit down and show them what we've got if we want... Or start from scratch" y/n explains, they all nod, smiling widely.

"I'm so fucking hyped man" Clara says making everyone laugh "this is going to be epic" she says and y/n cant help but smile widely as she speaks.

Eventually everyone has to leave for their day jobs, but y/n says at the coffee shop, receiving a text from Ross.

"Want to grab that coffee we spoke about? Xx" she's thankful that he's not annoyed or upset enough to completely ignore her.

"Absolutely! I'm actually at a place now, was just catching up with the band but they've gone to work" she says, texting him the address after. He arrives maybe 10 minutes later and she can't help but smile widely when he walks through the door. He wears a black hoodie that is big but not so big it drowns him, she can still make out his good figure, and the way his chest still sits flush against the fabric. A pair of old blue jeans rest against his legs and her eyes can't help but find his thighs, despite her brain telling her not to.

He walks over to the counter, quickly ordering himself a drink before he makes his way over to her. Placing his drink down so he could properly say hello.

She stands up to greet him, the pair meeting in a tight hug. She hears him sigh against her and she swear she can sense how wide he's smiling. And he's there again, invading her senses, completly taking them over, commanding them.

"Hi" he says as they pull away from each other.

"hi" she smiles as she sits down, leaning on the palm of her hand as she looks across at him. He begs himself to get a grip, heart increasing tenfold as he looks at her, she looked so adorable sitting there like that, the jumper she's wearing, hooked up over her hands to keep her warm.

"So... You said the others went to work? What are you still doing here then?" He asks and she smiles.

"Well... Lucky for me music is my day job" she says and he raises his eyebrows up at her.

"Yeah I write songs for other artists, I've got a small studio in the garage of our house" she says, referring to the band who all live together. "I make stuff for other people as and when the offers there"

"Wow, that's cool... Show me what you're working on at the moment?" He asks and she slides the open note book towards him, their fingertips graze as she hands it to him and they hold eye contact for far too long before his eyes slowly wander down to the paper, reading the words on the page.

"This one is actually for us... Maybe" she says, referencing the band again. She forces the words out despite the way her breath is failing her. Did he feel it too? The way it felt like electricity buzzed between them when they made contact? The way it felt like time slowed as they looked into each other's eyes? The way it felt so god damn difficult to break the eye contact that just felt right?

Her handwriting is small, neat and delicate and he smiles as he reads over the words. His mind flicks to the idea of seeing her write his name, a random thought, a slightly obscure desire but one the man suddenly feels himself in dire need of.

"Not my best work..." She says and he flicks his eyes to meet hers, shaking his head.

"What?" She asks, leaning back against her chair, arms crossed. She looks so cute like that, he thinks, all stubborn and pouty, almost mad that he wasn't just saying what he was thinking. Instead he was shaking his head, sending unclear and blurry messages her way. She wants nothing more than to crawl inside his mind and be able to see every thought, touch every desire and set alight all his doubts.

He feels himself wanting to lean forward, to do something to stop that look, to make her smile at him, for him. A boop of her nose that would make it crinkle in a way that would somehow make her look even cuter. Maybe he could graze his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss, feeling the way her breath hit his lips, hearing the way she'd giggle that giggle that he was already obsessed with. Maybe he could lean forward until his lips were nearly touching hers and just maybe when the tension became too much she'd give in, drop that look from her face and just have to kiss him, because she wouldn't be able to handle the distance apart anymore.

But he couldn't do that, he couldn't do any of it.

"Can't believe you can't see how amazing you are" he says, beginning to read part of what she had written out loud. She tries not to cringe at him speaking her own words.

"You can feel it in your soul Close your eyes and lose control Set it free and let it go Now I'm gonna let you know You'll never stop these changing roads This is the way our story goes"

"That's amazing love" he says and she blushes deeply.

"It's okay... You should really hear the demo to get the full experience" she says and he smiles.

"Tell me about it" he says, leaning forward, clinging on to her every word. She goes on to explain how she did an arrangement of strings and different sounding guitars, the song building up as you listen, and Ross can't get enough, asking question after question, just wanting a peek into her brain.

"Wow... Sounds impressive" he says.

"Thanks" she tilts her head down slightly to shield her face from him, which was tinted red at the cheeks. Her hair falls in front of her face and this time he can't resist leaning forward and hooking it behind her ear.

"You look very pretty today" he comments making her blush even more.

"Thanks..." She seems shy now and Ross finds himself liking the change in her behaviour, proud that he drew that from her. Her phone buzzes on the table and his eyes flick down to it at the same time hers do, reading "Bestie", Ross's eyebrows furrow at it, wondering again if his speculations were right.

"Sorry... It's just Matty" she says, placing her phone back down without replying. Ross doesn't know how to feel about the fact he was named that in her phone, or how to feel that he was texting her. But he quite likes how she doesn't reply, giving him her attention. He remembers her text last night and feels guilty he invited it. But the truth is he didn't know how to reply without making it obvious he was jealous.

"Just recommended me a song to listen to" she explains. Ross can't explain how the fact she was open with him, the fact that she told him exactly what the text was about, instead of leaving him guessing... He couldn't explain why he felt happy, but he did. His mind still flicks back to last night though.

"So... You went to his last night?" He asks, taking a sip from his coffee cup, attempting not to sound jealous or bitter.

"Yeah... The idiot left his keys in the coat. I just had a cup of tea and then went home" that piece of information appeases Ross and he pushes the unwanted and perhaps unneeded jealousy aside.

"He does make a mean brew" his tone has changed now and y/n sighs, feeling a pressure removed from her shoulders. Ross smiles at her and she smiles back.

"You know nothing's happening with Matty right?" She doesn't quite know why she asks it. But she felt like she had to, it was obvious something was happening between her and the bassist (whether it should be or not) and she didn't want him thinking something that wasn't true.

"oh" he says simply, he was then the one that was blushing, embarrassed that it was that obvious he had a problem with it.

"It's hard to explain but... Matty and I are really similar... I see myself in him a lot. And I guess that just draws us together a little bit y'know?" She asks and he nods.

"You don't have to explain yourself y/n, it's fine" but he smiles and secretly likes that she explains, that she tells him the truth. It saves him stressing about what was going on with her and Matty (although he still does, or perhaps just a little less than he usually would). And he supposes it makes her intentions a little clearer, less foggy.

"I know... But I want to" she says and he smiles wider now, reaching for her hand, deciding to cast any apprehension aside and just do what he wanted, which right now, was holding her hand.

The pair begin to talk about everything, finally getting to know each other the way they wanted. And again she feels like she's known him for years. She's surprised to find out how funny he was and how forward he could be, how flirty he was when he wanted. She wasn't surprised to find out that he was kind, unbelievably so and maybe too much for his own good, it was obvious how deeply he cared for others.

She found herself wanting, no, needing, to spend more time with him and the idea that they'd be working with each other made her feel undeniably happy.

When they eventually have to go their separate ways, the hug lasts a little bit too long to be considered friendly, and the way his hands drop to hold hers, not letting them go until someone has to literally squeeze past the pair, has her heart beating fast (which only returns to normal when she's far far away from him).

Ross made the blood in her veins redundant, it wasn't carrying oxygen to her body to keep it alive for the oxygen she needed to breathe was replaced by him when they were together. It wasn't air that she needed to survive, it was him. Ross caused her heart to play it's own symphony, one in which was vibrant and beautiful and made her question how she lived without him up until now.

She was well and truly obsessed, she didn't know whether this was right or wrong, whether she was delusional or of sound mind, whether this was good or bad. But one thing was for certain, whatever this was, there was no stopping it now, no matter how hard she tried to. Although neither of them knew that yet...

(5) Changing Roads

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unrequitedloveletter · 8 months

Note

omg hi i never realised i wasnt following you, i was wodering if you could do something with kaz brekker (romantic) /crows (plationic) where reader is mattias's sister and they met her and its really angsty like shes a new recruit for the fjerdian girl in the menengrie and inej sees her

and i love your writing so much!! you were the first kaz brekker fanfiction i ever read <3

Brandy- K.B x platonic! crows x matthias' sister! reader

First off, thank you so much for sending this in! I am so sorry it's taken me so long--I've been demotivated and only started getting into a kind of rhythm again recently!

On another note: the kaz brekker part of the fic is more implied to come later on than right as the fic takes place because the reader goes through a lot and having a romantic subplot just BOOM RIGHT THERE didn't feel right to me in the writing process

Fic type- this is some heavy angst that leads into hurt/comfort

Warnings- this one is a heavier fic--trafficking and rape are mentioned. The scenes wherein the reader is taken and put onto the slavers ship is depicted but not in too graphic detail (it's described as being knocked unconscious and blindfolded before being loaded onto a boat. The room that the reader ends up in isn't described in too heavy detail either, but there are mentions that the food the reader got came at random and their access to sunlight was restricted), theres a lot of discussion of death and a couple of mentions of strangulation--I've edited this but still might have missed a thing or two so feel free to tell me just in case.

You'd left Fjerda in search of your brother a solid eight months after he'd disappeared, when the letters you'd exchanged while he was in Druskelle training ceased and hadn't come in for that duration. You'd initially gone to the Druskelle--Jarl Brum, the Druskelle your brother had mentioned by name in the letters you'd exchanged. They'd all told you he'd been dead, but you didn't believe it.

So, you kept your ears open, and when you heard of a Fjerdan going to trial for involvement in the slave trade in Ketterdam, your instincts set you off on a boat to Ketterdam to find out if it was him, thinking that it could go two ways.

Either the first way, which was that it was Matthias and he'd been a shitty person for getting involved with the slave trade, or the second.

He was dead, the person on the slave trading charges was someone different, and you had lodgings in Ketterdam booked for a months stay before you headed back to your beloved country of ice and snow that would turn out to be pointless.

But you never did get to Ketterdam.

At least not on the boat you'd booked a ticket for. The night before you were to leave, the tavern you'd been drinking warmed brandy in was raided by slave traders. You were knocked unconscious, blind folded, and loaded onto a boat.

In the time thereafter, you spent no less than a week in a dodgy room, eating and drinking when your slavers deemed it a good enough time.

You were allowed sunlight only when you were taken to Tante Heleen, auctioned off to her and then forced by her to sign a contract in a language you hardly understood, as you'd barely been learning Kerch for six months by then. She'd grinned at you when you signed though she made it clear that you could not walk out of the room without doing so, and to even attempt it would result either in your death or her grabbing your hand and forcing you to sign the contract in a way that made the forcing seem much more obvious than it was.

As you were taken to the Menagerie, she'd grinned at you again. She'd asked where you were from, and when you told her that you were Fjerdan, her eyes had lit up.

"Oh, I've needed a new wolf! My men have been excellent to me this day, little wolf, and you shall reap the benefits!"

You got to the Menagerie and were given a tattoo on your wrist, silvery furs to wear and the natural color of your hair was tailored away in favor of a platinum blonde.

There were golden bars on the window of your room and each night, rather than sleeping, you looked through them. You watched the sun as it set and you watched the people blunder from one pleasure house to the next.

You cried whenever Heleen would introduce you to a client at first, but crying warranted a beating, so you stopped after the first month and a half. You took to crying when you were alone, thanking Heleen for every meal you got and hoping, hoping your indenture decreased by the minute.

But then, one night, as you were people watching, you caught sight of a girl on the roof of the building across from you. Your eyes widened as she met your gaze, pleading, desperate.

Get me out of here, you thought. Get me out. Please, get me out. Make this madness end.

Her gaze hardened and you thought you'd mistaken her for someone who could've sympathized with you, but then she rolled up her sleeve and you saw a patch of scarring. It looked almost like a botched tattoo removal, and as much made you confused.

But you didn't have time to question it. She was there one second, gone running and jumping across rooftops the next. You wondered if you'd ever see her again, hoped that you did. If the marks she'd showed you were any consolation, you had at least one person to rely on and that moment, a solid six or so months since you'd been taken to Ketterdam, even one person to rely on meant the world.

It had been two months since Inej had seen you that first time. Two months of plotting, planning, and it was all coming to a head that morning.

"Tante," Inej greeted on the first morning of autumn. "I am in need of one of the girls you keep here. She's Fjerdan."

"You walk into my enclosure," Tante said, gesturing at it all as she sat behind her desk. "Knowing that you, too, were once indentured here? I can have you indentured here again just as easily, my little lynx. What do you require of my little wolf?"

"If you try to kidnap me again, there is a sharpshooter ready to aim and fire at you within a split seconds notice," she said. "There is a very angry ex-Druskelle standing outside the front door, along with a heartrender, a bombs expert, and a someone so good at cards he can control any hand he wants. Let me see the girl or so help me, I will stab myself and make it seem from the sharpshooters perspective that you are doing it, and you will lose your life right here in this parlor, in front of all of your girls and all of the rapists that you call clientele."

At that, Tante showed a second of pause before turning to one of her men and nodding. "Unlock her door," she said. "Tell the little wolf that the lynx has come to visit. I can grant you fifteen minutes, Mrs. Ghafa."

Inej nodded. That was enough. It had to be enough.

Enough time for Tante to busy herself when Matthias came in posing as a client, for Nina and Kaz to sneak in through a back entrance and steal your indenture contract right from her desk, swap it with a contract that held both your signature and her own but had different wording, and make it back to the front, where the three of them were meant to be waiting while Wylan smoked a cigarette--a fake, one with chamomile and lavender in the filter--and tried his damndest to look casual.

She followed the man to your room, tried not to feel her heart break when she watched you flinch before she showed herself from behind his back.

Carefully, Inej slipped a knife out from her forearm--Sankta Alina--and pressed it against the mans back.

"You report that flinch to Tante and I will find you and cut you in two," she whispered. "You are actively participating in the trafficking of innocent girls. I understand that this is the Barrel, but I guarantee there are less vile crimes to commit. I would reccomend you find something better unless the last thing you fancy a sight of is my knife plunging into your chest."

The man gave a single nod and left the room, standing guard outside the door.

"Who are you?" You asked. "I wasn't informed anyone would be visiting, let alone the girl who's been watching me like a hawk since I hit the six month mark of being indentured here."

"My name is Inej Ghafa," she said. "I showed you the spot where my tattoo used to be--I was the Suli Lynx before Kaz bought out my indenture and I started working for the Dregs. I assume that your name is Y/N Helvar?"

"I have been Tante Heleens precious little wolf since I got here," you said. "I need to leave--I've been trying to figure out how, but I just can't figure it out for the life of me."

"Matthias is downstairs now, pretending to be a client very interested in owning a share of the business," Inej said. "Kaz and Nina are currently doing a grab and swap--they've managed to forge a contract and your signature based off of old job contracts you signed while in Fjerda. It'll hold up to scrutiny and at worst, look like Tante Heleen made a mistake. The contract they'll replace with the one they burn later will say that your indenture was set at a finite amount that's decreased rather than increasing since you were brought here."

"Has it not been?" You asked. "My Kerch wasn't great when I first got here--it's definitely gotten better since, I will say--but I thought that it had been decreasing. The decrease was what I'd been hinging my hope on."

"Tante writes them so that the cost of the indenture increases," Inej said. "You would've been stuck here--but our time is limited. I've only got fifteen minutes before I'm gone. Tante will call you down no less than ten after I've left, and you'll meet a guy who is all sharp edges and rough cuts--his name is Kaz Brekker, and he's someone you can trust, Y/N. I promise."

You stepped forward, hesitant, and Inej pulled you into a hug, using the hug as an excuse to tuck a knife into your furs.

"I understand hesitancy to kill," she said. "But if maiming, in the least, is necessary, I can pray to your Fjerdan saints with you later. We can ask that you get forgiveness for doing harm to those who have done worse to you."

"Did--did you say Matthias?" You asked. "I'm sorry--it's just that a lot has been thrown at me today. Matthias as in Helvar?"

"Yeah," Inej said, smiling at you as she puled away from the hug. You had tears in your eyes. "He's alive, Y/N, and he thought you were dead from the Ice Court heist onward, but he's relieved you aren't."

You wanted to cry, but of happiness or sadness, you didn't know.

Inej didn't say much of anything during the rest of her time, just sat with you on your bed, your hands locked together, until her time was up and the man who stood guard outside your door knocked to let you know that your time with her was done.

She left with tears in her eyes, remembering a time where she looked and felt just as helpless as you did.

Fifteen minutes later, you were being called down to the parlor. You followed a guard down the stairs, and when you caught sight of the person Inej had described--all sharp edges, rough cuts--you forced yourself to meet his gaze briefly. He was the one shot you had at getting out. His plan had to have worked or you would've died while stuck working as a slave to Heleen.

Next to him stood Matthias.

"Do you know this person?" Tante asked, gesturing to the one beside whom your brother stood.

"I do," you said, hoping that the lie was convincing enough. "I do know him."

"And do you know his business partner?" Tante asked. You glanced at your brother. He had murder in his gaze, and he kept it focused on the woman who'd been holding you in the hostage that was your indenture.

"Yes," you said. "His name is Matthias Helvar. His associate is called Kaz Brekker."

"See?" Kaz asked. "Old friends, she and I, and if I am to remember it correctly, she told me that you told her her indenture would be out with the start of fall. Today is the first day of the season."

"Her contract says otherwise," Tante said. "And I said no such things to her--Y/N, did I?"

"You did," you said, hopefully going along with the plan that was in place. "You said I'd only be here for eight months. It has been eight months, Tante."

"Must've been an error," she said, glaring at you. You stepped back in your fear and like the protective brother he tended to be, Matthias stepped forward.

Kaz glared at him as Tante pulled your contract from her desk.

"Does the contract say as we claim?" Matthias asked. "Y/Ns signature should be on it. As should yours."

Tante glowered at Kaz. "Whatever you've done, this fake will not hold up to close scrutiny."

At that, Kaz shrugged. "I've not done a bloody thing, Ms. Heleen. Perhaps you were drunk in the contract writeup, decided to take pity on one of your girls?"

"I was sober as a cow," she said. "But--fine. You win for now."

"You will give Y/N to us immediately," Matthias said. Kaz nodded, affirming the words.

"She is to be under the protection of the Dregs," Kaz said. "Any attempt on her life is as good as an attempt on mine, and I will make you pay for it. It will cost you more than all of the indentures of the girls here combined, Ms. Heleen."

"Fine," she said. "Take my little wolf away from me."

You stepped toward Matthias.

"You have a good day, Tante," Kaz said. The three of you made a beeline for the exit, and Inej gave you her hand. She let you lean on her in the walk from the Menagerie to the Slat, where Nina gave you clothes to change into and toiletries to shower.

You showered, washed eight months of grime and dirt and the general feeling of disgust off of yourself in the forty five minutes it took to get most of it. The feeling of disgust, the extreme disdain, the pain that you carried, were things that you were sure could not be washed away with a simple shower.

The outfitting you'd been given had been a dress that was flowy and did not adhere to every part of your body. It was black and stopped just a bit above your ankles. There was a dip in the neckline but nothing that would have anybody looking, and sleeves that stopped at your elbows.

Along with it, you were given an old cardigan, a pair of appropriate socks, and brand new combat boots, good for giving anyone a kick where it hurt the most if need be.

You headed to the bottom floor of the Slat, thanked Nina as you found her amidst the chaos and decided to lean against a wall rather than sitting down.

Matthias brought you a glass of brandy, and that was all it took.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

You took a sip of the brandy. "It's not your fault," you said. "I was going to come to Ketterdam to look for you--I couldn't believe you'd died--and the tavern I was in the night before I left was overtaken. I was put on a slavers ship and sold to Tante. None of that is on you, Matthias."

"You came looking for me," he said. "So, therefore, it's my fault."

"No," you said. "It's not. It's the fault of the slavers, the captain and crew of that boat, and Tante Heleen. You and I are blameless."

"But--"

"I was trafficked, Matthias," you said. "I was sold to a woman who indentured me to servitude. I was raped. None of that is your burden to bear, and if you start bearing it I will cut off one of your fingers."

You took a sip of your brandy.

As much as you loved your brother, you knew that a meaningful conversation was not likely to start until you both had time to think. Matthias was at the stage of it wherein he blamed himself. You had long grown past that, and the shame you felt because of it had transformed in two different cycles--first, desperation to get out of the Menagerie, and second, anger at Tante Heleen and those involved with your capture and sale.

"Matthias, dear," the one called Nina called out to him. "Wylan thinks that an espresso martini is better than bourbon. Discuss."

You shot her a grateful look. She nodded at you and for a moment you almost thought she understood.

"I've gotten into contact with a tailor," Kaz said. You took a sip of your brandy. "Inejs removal was botched, but Matthias forked over the kruge if you want it removed."

"You said that I am to be under the protection of the Dregs," you said. "A gang, as is obvious now, but what does that protection mean, in no uncertain terms?"

"It means exactly what it says on the tin. You are protected by us, Y/N. I can't promise you safety, nor happiness or health in the Barrel, but I can at least promise you that. Inej already seems like she'd fight tooth and nail to keep you alive, and she is the best ally you can have in these parts."

"Might it also mean a job?" You asked. "I have nothing, Kaz. People home probably think I'm dead. I wanted a fresh start terribly when I was in Fjerda, so this might just be my best bet."

Kaz nodded. "Your first shift at the Crow Club is in two days time, and a room in the Slat is free. I'll have the current bartender teach you how to make a couple of decent drinks, and provided I see any other ways in which you might prove to be an asset, you'll join us on the jobs that make us rich. You don't need to take up the crow and cup if you don't want to--I am sure you've had enough of tattoos for a lifetime."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"You could still die," Kaz said. "Your death was a likely thing in the Menagerie--I saw one Karl Van Houden on your list of clients? He killed two of the girls in other brothels city wide--and it's just as likely outside of it."

"If I die in these streets, I am dying with my dignity," you said. "In the Menagerie, I would've died without it, strangled by a client who hated the fact that I was crying. Dying with your dignity intact, you'll find, makes a world of difference."

Kaz shrugged. "I will be taking your word for it," he said.

You shook your head as he walked away, grinned at Inej as you noticed her approaching.

"How are you doing?"

"I've been worse," you said with a shrug. "I've been without brandy and good music. Definitely worse."

Inej grinned, took your free hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Does it hurt?" She asked. "The pain of accepting all of it. Are you okay?"

"It burns in my chest when I think about it too long," you said. "I just--I think about Heleen and I want to set the Menagerie on fire. I hate it. I hate her. I don't know how to deal with this."

"And you won't figure out the right way for a bit," Inej said. "It varies for everyone. You just come to a point where--you accept that what happened happened, that sometimes, good people are subjected to terrible things and the people who subjected them to those things just go on living in places like this one. It does get easier with time, though you never feel like it will."

"Thank you," you said. "For rescuing me. For giving me council as you have."

Inej shook her head. "I've been trying to convince Kaz to let you onto the team since we first made eye contact," she said. "It wasn't an easy feat until Matthias, Nina, Jesper and Wylan backed me up without knowing any of the real details, and even then, it still took a bit more convincing. Kaz is very selective with the people he lets onto the team, but you'll be a good asset."

"Thank you," you said again. "Seriously. I would've died within those walls, Inej. Thank you for saving me from that."

She walked away, and you glanced at your nearly empty glass of brandy, heading to the bar to get yourself another.

You had your entire future ahead, and you didn't want to think another minute of Tante Heleen, but you did.

You decided you'd get your revenge on her someday, even if it was just a miniscule form of such.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #platonic! crows x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix

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jekyll-doodles · 1 year

Note

If it was one of the other lords who ran what would’ve happened? What would’ve the foundation think ?

AUs in which it was one of the other lords that was exiled/escaped Alagadda. These are separate AUs. Acid effects described here. I can't go into Foundation Level Detail because I just don't have the mental stamina for that research.

Red - Euclid. Containment: Subject is kept in a room with basic furniture and a viewing window, along with some other enrichment items (some books, a radio, two wine glasses, and one instance of scp 3573.) Personnel are advised to wear protective gloves and goggles when entering and interacting directly with subject. Personnel should treat any flesh that comes into contact with subject's secretions immediately. Interviews are held once a week to maintain its friendly behavior. Behavior: Subject is extremely charismatic and social. It will willingly converse with any staff that give it attention, and is knowledgeable on many subjects related to arts and history. It has, however, given little in terms of information on its place of origin. It tends to flip between extreme homesickness or relief of having left. Researchers did learn that it seems to share an origin with scp 3573, even claiming them as having been a gift to him, hence their name (subject answers to "Rubedo" more pleasantly than to its designation number.) For its good behavior, subject is allowed to take a human host, outside of interviews, for it to enjoy its allotted enrichment items, and the occasional meal. Note: it seems subject is only able to drink alcoholic beverages, mostly preferring those produced by scp 3573. It fills one of its glasses with some of its host's blood before then pouring it into the bottle. Host privileges: occasional use of d-class to maintain its more cooperative behavior, mannequin usage otherwise. Its human hosts tend to last a few weeks before subject finds them to be "unusable". Warning: When interacting with subject, no flirtation of any kind is permitted. Subject reacts to romantic interest with aggressively obsessive behavior with little remorse. One researcher was found dead inside its containment, and when questioned, subjected remarked that "she'd suddenly started skipping out on our dates, so to make up for it, I merely requested she fill my wine bottle this time. Its only fair. And she was more than happy to oblige!"

Yellow - Keter. Containment: To be kept in a sealed case within its containment cell. Personnel are advised to wear hazmat suits when entering and handling subject. Armed guards must be used when transporting subject whether or not it has been granted a host. Any personnel showing signs of increased irritation or aggression must be escorted away from subject as quickly as possible. Any personnel that comes into direct contact with subject's secretions must be taken to the nearest infirmary and treated immediately. Cleaning of its containment cell must be carefully and quickly managed once a week. Behavior: Subject is highly aggressive, managing to calm to mild irritation when cooperating. Has given no information on its origin, only expressing that said place would burn without it. But nothing further. Any attempts to get more information ends in subject threatening and attacking the interviewer, and then trying to escape the facility. Subject has shown fighting compatibly, but no firearm training. As a reward for cooperation during interviews, and or refraining from taking human hosts, subject will be allowed longer time with its mannequin host and allowed access to either a violin, a cello, or a piano. Subject shows mastery over said instruments, but will inevitable be overcome with aggression and break them after approximately two hours. Host privileges: temporary mannequin usage only for interviews and as a reward for cooperation/good behavior.

White - Safe. Containment: To be kept in a sealed case within its containment cell. Personnel are required to wear safety gear and suit similar to those used when handling high quantities of liquid hydrogen, before entering its containment cell. Cleaning the cell is scheduled once every two weeks to manage the toxic "frost" produced by subject's secretions. Behavior: Subject's only recorded behavior was the single day it obtained and used a researcher as a host. It remained stoic during interviews and rarely moved unless ushered to. It gave little information of its origin, and expressed little interest in escaping the facility "yet.". When asked why it had taken a host, having shown no ability to previously, it remarked that it wished to let the foundation know to leave it undisturbed. After which, subject placed itself back into its case, leaving the body of their host to collapse and partly shatter on the floor. Subject has remained dormant since. Host privileges: None. Subject has expressed no further desire in taking a host nor communicating with the foundation.

#scp foundation #scp 035 #scp au #scp alagadda #scp 2264 #scp red lord #scp yellow lord #scp white lord #greenghostlyjekyll #headcanon #ask

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bookworm-with-coffee · 10 months

Text

Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

__________________________________________

When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed!! Let me know what you all thought! Any and all feedback is welcome!! Part two coming soon!! ❤

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!!

#being human #being human uk #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #mitchell x reader #fanfiction #aidan turner #gif not mine #credit to creator

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buzzdoesdc · 1 year

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You know what I want to see? A Supergirl origin story which actually understands just how traumatic her origin is.

Clark grew up on Earth. He was a teenager before he found out he wasn't human, and likely a young adult when he found out what happened to his home planet. It was probably sad, sure, and he mourned the parents he never got to know, but it was always an abstract. He still had the only parents and home he'd ever known, and finding out about his past wouldn't change that.

But Kara? Kara grew up on Krypton for something like 15 years. She probably had favourite stores, and restaurants, and places to go. Friends from school and from her childhood, people she'd known all her life. Music and stories that had shaped her and carved out a place in her heart.

I don't think we definitively know how much warning she had. Maybe she had months, or maybe her parents didn't want to frighten her just in case Jor El was wrong and she ended up only having minutes. Either way, at some point she was told that her world was going to end, and they could only save her. Not her friends, not even her parents, just her and a baby cousin she barely knew. You need to look after him, her parents say. You are all he has.

I don't know when the ship put her in suspended animation, but I'd hope it was just before launch so the last memory of Krypton she'd have is her parents, not the destruction of everything she's ever known.

Regardless, the important part is she arrives 30 years later. Maybe her ship is sent off course, or is intercepted, or is just that much slower. Either way, she's late. In the comics Kara leaps out of the ship happy as anything and ready to be Supergirl, or at most initially anxious and confused but soon relaxed if not comfortable.

I don't see that. I see her falling out of the ship as soon as it lands, collapsing to the ground and weeping for all she's lost. She picks herself up, looks around, and Kal El is nowhere to be seen. She's panicking, but he can't be far away. He's just a baby. They left together, they'd have arrived together. They have to be together. They're all each other has left.

She stumbles away, hoping there'll be some sign of him close by. The yellow sun is bright, far brighter than Rao ever was, and it burns through her skin to her very bones. Everything feels soft and keeps breaking when she pushes against it. It keeps getting louder and louder and louder, and by the time she finds people it's like they are screaming.

Maybe it only takes an hour or so, or maybe several days, but sooner or later Superman finds her. They think she's a threat, but when he looks at her he sees a lost child. It takes him a second to recognise the language she's speaking, but when he realises it's Kryptonian a little kernel of hope builds in his heart. He introduces himself as Kal El, the same way he has a thousand times in the mirror just in case he wasn't alone after all.

Kara looks up and sees her aunt's eyes and her uncle's smile. It takes a second for her to understand what he said, his accent is so strong, and then Krypton dies all over again. He looks old, older than she is by a number of years. He moves like the people around her, talks like them. She was supposed to protect him, teach him about their world. He was all she had left.

And now he isn't.

Clark tries, of course. He's a good man with a kind heart, and she's family he never knew he had. (This breaks her heart a little more. He never knew she was supposed to be there. He never knew to miss her.) He introduces her to Ma and Pa, and they say she can call them that too. She never does. He introduces her to Lois and Perry and Jimmy and everyone he knows, and she looks right through them like they aren't there.

He tells her about Superman, and being a hero, and the powers she will develop soon. He teaches her to control her hearing and her strength. They don't discuss it, but everyone else assumes she's going to be a superhero too.

She tries, tries to understand the stranger her cousin has become, to imitate him, but it never quite sticks. She just doesn't have his compassion. This is not her world, these are not her people. She just can't love them like he does. (if this universe is anything like Man of Steel, I don't think compassion was considered much of a virtue on Krypton.) She wears his colours, his symbol, but it never quite fits her right.

I think in the end she finds her place. Maybe as Supergirl, maybe Power Girl, maybe as someone else entirely. Earth never truly becomes home, but it becomes a place she can live. She makes friends, learns to blend in, but always keeps the light of Krypton alive in her heart. Observes it's holidays as best she can, remembers as much as possible of the stories and the music so it isn't lost. She's all that's left, after all.

I hope she has friends that try to learn for her. Join in holidays, learn the rituals and the stories. Everyone deserves that, to not feel truly alone.

Clark is a child who finds out he's adopted. Kara is a teen refugee in a foreign land. I just think her story should reflect that.

#this kinda turned into a short story part of the way through #long post #kara zor el #clark kent #supergirl #superman #my contributions

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enigmatist17 · 10 days

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Entropy (Part 1)

Part 1 -> Weight of the World

Part 2 -> My Sanctuary

---

The jingle of a bell alerts Anya that there are customers, and the former demon sighs as she sets down the new willow root she'd just received earlier in the day.

Every time she wanted to organize, there was always someone who needed her attention.

"Greetings, welcome to the Magi—Dawn!" Anya drops her fake cheeriness at the sight of the teen, rushing over to check on the girl in case there are any injuries before giving her a small hug. "I am quite upset with you disappearing on us!"

"I'm sorry." Dawn had the decency to look ashamed, Anya's frown lasting a moment before she sighed, tucking some of Dawn's hair behind her ear.

"At least you were sensible enough to find an appropriate guardian like Angel to—Spike?" Angel she had been expecting, having called his office to reroute their arrival, but Spike she had not been. "You're...back."

"Mostly, sometimes." The normally brash man muttered his response, his coat closed around him and shoulders hunched, as he took in the Magic Box slightly dazedly. "Couldn't stay away, not now."

"Yes, I see." The bite to Anya's words didn't go unnoticed, Angel setting the sign on the door to close before locking up.

"You didn't know." Dawn sucked in a breath, the former demon glaring at nothing in particular as she moved to start counting the register. "I don't..."

"They were wise not to include me. Willow did a very dangerous spell after I kept warning her, and she must have come to the conclusion that I would have stopped them." Anya shrugged, a little forceful with her beloved register as she counted. "But yes, Buffy is back."

"Is she alright?" Angel leaned against some shelving as Dawn took a seat at a round table, Spike wandering off to another part of the shop as he mumbled to himself. Angel knew the younger man was listening in as he slowly prowled around the shop, knowing his sire would get the answers he was too wary to ask himself.

"I don't really know how to answer that, I only saw her for a moment before Rupert and Ethan took charge." Anya placed whatever money was for the bank in its bag before locking up the register, crossing the floor, and heading into the office to lock up the money for tomorrow. "I have instructions to let Dawn sleep at my place, unless you want to go home?"

"No, I don't want to see Willow or the others." Dawn shook her head, hugging her backpack tight as she looked at the floor.

"No witches around the Bit." Spike growled as he appeared behind Dawn, resting a hand on her shoulder as Anya exited her office. It was unnerving to see his eyes completely black as he watched her grab her purse and coat, Dawn reaching over to the hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing it.

"I'll drive, if you need it." Angel cleared his throat, Anya dimming the lights and motioning for Dawn to get up onto her feet, the former vengeance demon pausing before nodding.

"While my usual walk is more than sufficient, a ride tonight would be most welcome. I have banished Xander for the time being and, as such, have lost access to his car."

"I get it." Angel offered his arm with a slightly awkward smile, her arm slipping into his with her own smile. "I'm here as long as you all need me."

"Thank you very much, Angel. That is very kind of you." Dawn and Spike filed out before Angel and Anya, the shopkeeper locking up before they all headed for the parked Plymouth a block over. "I like this car."

"Thanks." Spike and Dawn settled in the backseat as the other two took the front, Anya guiding Angel to her apartment as the four sat in silence.

---

He could hear her heartbeat, as unique as a fingerprint among the several others in Rupert's complex, a sound he never thought he'd ever hear again. The door to the former Watcher's home looks darker than he remembered; Spike finally knocks after he takes a deep unneeded breath, and Giles answers the door after a solid minute.

"Spike..." The Watcher wasn't expecting to see him, clearly, the tea cup in his hand nearly falling if he hadn't reached out to catch it in the blink of an eye. "I wasn't-"

"Wasn't expectin' to come back so soon, wasn't ready." Spike shrugged, the lack of any sarcasm almost enough to knock him off balance. "Is she safe?"

"She's upstairs." Stepping back, the former Watcher motions to his right with a soft look as the vampire enters, Giles' apartment mostly unchanged from when he'd last seen it. Ethan is just rising from his spot on the couch when he looks above where Spike is standing, the warlock giving a short nod before he crosses the room to the door, pulling Giles with him out the door, and shutting it with a soft click. Drawing a slow breath, Spike moves towards the stairs, only making it to the first landing before he looks up, and the world slows to a stop.

"Effulgent..."

The word from another life is all that can define what he's looking at.

"Spike?"

She was right there, her green eyes far more haunted than he remembered focused on his, her sunshine-colored hair done up in a messy bun. He could see the outline of some bandages underneath one of the red button-up shirts he'd left behind, and his heart lurched at the thought of her injured, slowly climbing a step or two before pausing, uncertain if she wanted him closer. Her hands are on his face before he registers her moving, a thumb resting on his lips as tears begin to fall. He feels her warmth seep into his face, and slowly, Spike raises his arms to hug her close, the thumping of her heart almost drowning out everything else in the world.

Spike had memorized the sound after he'd moved into the Summers home. Its cadence was a balm when he would drift off come morning and a delight when he woke in the evening, its strong beat almost battle music when they fought on patrols together.

They stood there for an untold amount of time, Spike holding her as if she were made of glass while Buffy ran one hand through his hair, the other cupping his cheek, her thumb moving back and forth in a slow motion.

"Your hair got longer." Buffy's voice wavers as she smiles, those brilliant blue eyes now rimmed with red, looking up to focus on hers. "It's a good look on you."

"No need to lie, pet." Spike's own voice was scratchy, the vampire sounding like he was barely holding back a sob. "Hideous it is..."

"No, you never could be." Buffy leaned forward to kiss his forehead, the memory of before their fight with Glory flashing through her mind.

"I-When we make it through this, I want to try." Her voice quivers as one thumb gently rests on his lips. "I can't promise anything, but I see you trying, and it's enough for me."

"I missed you pet, so bloody much." Spike draws back with a look of complete adoration, offering a hand once he fully lets her go. She accepts it with a small smile, and he accompanies her down the stairs and to the couch, gently motioning for Buffy to sit.

"Are you going to join me?" Spike shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he looks into her eyes before kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands into his. He frowns when his thumbs catch on relatively fresh wounds on each of her knuckles, turning her hands to see a sight that is all too familiar.

Buffy makes a weak noise, watching the vampire lean down to kiss the wounds.

"I know these." 120 years ago, the same marks were on his own hands, done from punching and clawing his way out of a box and soil to be reborn in his world of night. They shouldn't be on these hands, Buffy should not know the horror of fighting against the earth to reach the surface, and he wishes so desperately to take the pain away. "Do they hurt?"

"Not as much, Giles helped." Buffy shrugged, able to see the growing anger swirling in Spike's eyes as he studied every scab. "They'll go away soon, promise."

"They shouldn't have to." The vampire sighed as he squeezed her hands, looking up with an expression she couldn't place. "Do you need anything?"

"Just you." Spike all but melts at the words, Buffy smiling as she pulls one hand free to cup the side of his face once again. "You look so tired."

"I am, a bit." He chuckled softly, leaning into her touch with a soft purr, the noise bringing a little shine to Buffy's eyes. "You've been sleeping here?"

"Yea...Giles said Dawn was gone, and I um, I haven't faced the others, yet." Buffy chuckled nervously, dropping her hand to tug at the hem of her shirt. "It was silly, but I went to your crypt when I um, when I realized where I was? Ethan had to pry me out of your chair."

"Can't believe it's still there, been gone a while pet." Spike's lips twitched into a genuine smile at the image that popped into his head; Buffy relaxed at the gesture as she watched Spike finally get onto his feet, sitting beside her on the couch with a soft hum. Buffy found herself leaning against him almost immediately, the vampire embracing her as if reading her mind.

She can breathe for the first time since she'd been brought back.

---

Ethan, Giles, and Angel had let them be, the vampire driving the two to one of two diners in Sunnydale that were open 24/7. None of them said much as they were seated in a booth, Angel sitting across from the duo as they were given some water to start with.

"Didn't know you were back in town, Ethan." Angel didn't really remember the warlock, if he was honest. He knew he had caused a ruckus a few times for clients, but nothing too serious, save the whole Eyghon scare.

"Haven't been here long, but I've settled." The shorter man shrugged as he ordered a coffee, Giles snagging himself a tea while the waitress gave Angel a knowing look before scribbling down an order and retreating to the kitchen. "Help run the Magic Box -"

"More like operates a black market out of the basement," Giles interjected with a slight grumble. "Something I have no knowledge of, obviously."

"Obviously," Angel smirked a bit, already mentally adding Ethan for potential future aid. The three sit in silence when the waitress returns with their drinks, leaning down to whisper something in Angel's ear as she sets an opaque glass in front of him, the vampire chuckling and tucking a twenty into her apron pocket as she leaves.

"Didn't know they served vampires here." Ethan raised an eyebrow, Angel sighing in slight relief when he took a big sip.

"They serve all kinds here, forgot to pay her back for something." Angel shrugged, looking into the red liquid with a pensive look. None of them really wanted to broach the topic that seemed to lurk around their table, but the night wouldn't last forever.

"I'm going to start by saying I'm sorry." Giles looked into his rapidly disappearing tea to avoid familiar dark eyes, looking so much older than Angel had last seen him. "I allowed my trust in Willow to blind me from her increasing magic use, something that will be rectified shortly."

"You're not her babysitter." Ethan placed a hand on Rupert's knee, and the small squeeze was a balm.

"I should have seen the signs!" The Watcher hissed at no one in particular, scowling at the aged tabletop. "I was a fool."

"You're not a fool." Angel's voice was almost gentle, something the Watcher never thought he'd hear. "You're going to do something about it, and that's great because she needs your guidance."

"It won't be mine, I've already contacted a most trusted coven in Devon, and they've agreed to take her in."

"Will she go?"

"I don't know, but if she truly cares for any of us, she will."

They all sit in silence once more, sipping their drinks and listening to the late-night patrons and staff move about like the world was normal. Angel sometimes envies normal people who are able to ignore what's around them and carry on without knowing that people fight and die every day to keep them alive and safe. The day with Buffy taught him that that world could never be for him, however, and he knows that he will fight to keep them safe until his final day.

He's alright with that.

"Do you have a place to stay while you're here?" Shaken from his thoughts, Angel blinks and shrugs at Ethan.

"Not really, my main priority was to just get here. I'm assuming Willow and the others are at Buffy's home?"

"I believe so; then again, we didn't check after the screaming had finished." Angel hummed and pulled out his wallet, tossing the money for the bill down plus extra before he gets to his feet.

"They're getting out." Ethan and Rupert exchange a look before getting up to follow him out to the car, only a trembling hand betrayed Angel's thoughts as he got into the driver's seat.

---

Revello Drive was dark when a dark car pulled to a stop along the street, and Xander's car was sitting in the driveway. The curtains to the living room were open, and two people stood as they watched a third pace back and forth, their arms waving in the air in frustration. They didn't notice the trio approaching the house until the door slammed open, noises of surprise greeting Angel as he entered the familiar home with a growl. He never liked letting his demon show much when he'd been in Sunnydale, trying not to scare Buffy and her friends as he had become an ally and more, passing the best he could as a human to be kind.

Right now, he didn't care as he felt his face shift, golden eyes taking in the three nervous humans.

"We need to have a talk."

#buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series #spike #spike btvs #william the bloody #spuffy #buffy summers #angel #angel btvs #rupert giles #ethan rayne #personal #not particularly pleased with this beginning chapter #but I have a plan #:')#season 6 rewrite

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mythvoiced · 3 months

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-. wait, I'm back, i need to post some thoughts on poppy playtime real quick because i'm running out of places to infodump this stupid thing i noticed about mommy & miss delight in, so forgive me dash, this is to satisfy my blorbo brain, i'll be out of your hair in a minute, spoilers for chapter 3

i am so obsessed with the way mommy & miss delight vocalize knowing who you are.

first off, miss delight vocalizes recognizing you, mommy includes knowing who you are in her villain speech. LIKE, i'm violently, vibratingly, neurotically overthinking this, but i love languages, i love the fine details of the way people communicate, i am obsessed with how a single change in wording and cadence can apply such a wholly drastic different meaning to any given information, how complex lying can be once you start toying with language etc etc.

miss delight recognizes you in the second voice line she speaks over the speakers, the first one is just some parody of a classic school announcement, but in the second one she literally recognizes you in the line, she sounds casual about it, maintaining her established speech patterns/tone, expressing surprise at you having survived, then something that sounds like disappointment and discovering the reason you're there, and then she extends a warning to you to leave the place before catnap finds out you're there. i mean, sure, she's completely lost it, she talks to her mace and hears it talk back to her, so how reliable can she possibly be, but still. she's got that deal with catnap that keeps her fed, but she still declares her willingness to fuck you up in absolute glee once you show no signs of leaving. once you show no signs of leaving. like, i am obsessed with the voice lines here. in relation to the thing with mommy, though, i love what her recognizing you after doing a double-take, essentially, implies about who player character could be:

someone miss delight had some marginal exposure to, but not enough to recognize upon first glance (sure, ten years, but you were an adult then and now you wouldn't change that drastically without some plot points that would have been too important to not mention, and the nightmare tape implies you weren't there at all on That Day so you have no disfigurements, PLUS the thing with mommy i'll get to in a minute)

someone she doesn't feel vengeful or even particularly hostile towards, if anything, she seems positively inclined if she takes the time to tell you to piss off before you prove yourself to 'not be a good listener' at which point she practically announces 'weLP! gonna hunt you down, then~' (which is also interesting because she actually only comes for you after you activate the generator and after first destroying the generator, as if she was waiting to see if you were trouble, kind of like some interpret to have been the case for huggy wuggy who only came for you when you started reactivating machinery, toy making machinery, the central piece watches you lmao)

someone she does absolutely enjoy killing if given the chance, so not someone she'd been fond of, though this point is wonky because she's lost it

MOMMY, whom i adore btw, goes about mentioning that she too knows who you are in a completely different way, which in on itself could imply a wide variety of things, one among them for example that poppy told her lmao, but honestly, the way mommy talks to you in general is so? i'm probably just overthinking things but i love overthinking about this lmao so bear with me

mommy has four voice lines before she off-handedly indirectly mentions knowing who you are:

when she nabs your red hand

before musical memory

after musical memory

before wack-a-wuggy

after wack-a-wuggy

she mentions knowing you in her 'villain speech' before the start of statues.

she says 'a new playmate' at the beginning, which doesn't necessarily need to imply you're new to her, just that you're new as opposed to the toys she usually 'plays with' or that you've never played with her; she gives you instructions without feeling the need to provide details, along the lines of 'you know what musical memory is, or at the very least where it's located'; she also says 'it'll be just like old times', which could be in reference to the situation in general or something that ties you two together (don't out me for thinking player character could be stella but i'd fuck with it, ask me about it i'll be wholly incoherent but we can get a laugh out of it).

she does provide you with a detail about the wack-a-wuggy game, but you can be familiar with information and the other party might still 'reveal' it to you as a way to introduce a concept, a conversation, a topic, you name it. the line is

'The toys in this game used to have strings attached to them, so they could be pulled back when they got too close to the children. Hmm... Have fun.'

can be interpreted as 'here's information you're not familiar with that i'm giving you as sadistic warning' but if you're deranged like me also as 'this might be information you know, i'm just giving you a sadistic indirect warning that this is no longer the case', both would be evil because mommy is evil but i think she's fun

also, mommy never feels the need to explain anything to you, not really; she describes the rules of her game, but she doesn't stop to wonder if you know what the game station even is, that this used to be a place for kids to be at, mommy just straight up knows the entire time that you used to work there and weren't some rando curiously exploring the place, maybe poppy told her, maybe no rando would have made it as far into the factory to reach her, maybe she simply saw you and knew right away that you were a former employee, BUT doesn't that imply she recognized you instantly? and why doesn't she kill you right after she grabs poppy? (sure, "it's a videogame she can't do that there would be no game" we're doing this game theory style, hold them accountable for suspension of disbelief and 'il patto narrativo', design the game in a way that would make it illogical/impossible for her to kill you then and i'll buy it, but tbh she probs just wanted to fuck around with you, SHE'S FUN)

these are the pre-statues voice lines

It was always so sad to see the kids go... They called me "Mommy" because I was the closest thing they ever had to one. But they'd come for games, and never come back. They left Mommy to die alone. Mommy didn't deserve that! But you? You worked here. So if anyone deserves to die alone, it's you.

this is where Mommy officially states via implication that she recognizes you at the very least as former employee. i say 'via implication' because she doesn't actually ever stop to tell you 'i know who you are' or 'i recognize you' the way miss delight does; miss delight notices while watching you, to mommy on the other hand, this information was such a given that she did not feel the need to reveal it to you.

mommy loves to scare the shit out of you, and to play with you, she'd most likely gleefully gloat if she could use the information that she recognizes you to scare you, but she doesn't. the emphasis of that part is not on her knowing who you are, but on her declaring that your role as former employee makes you guilty and deserving of capital punishment lmao

she recognizes you, she recognizes you as an employee who had enough power to be an accomplice (which works for the nightmare tape, again, is this stella-); would mommy lump all employees into being worthy of blame for what happened? maybe, she is particularly hostile towards all employees, after all, but it is interesting nonetheless to interpret it as her recognizing that you are guilty in some aspect solely for working in the position you worked.

still, to recognize you as an employee - if you're most definitely not dressed in a uniform omg why would you-- - she'd have to... know you were one (unless she's hostile to all adults, but GOSH, always adding the antithesis as afterthought must be so exhausting to read lmao)

gosh, i'm losing my train of thought, damned neurodivergent brain, but basically: mommy states her recognizing you as an established fact that doesn't need to be re-established, not to her, and not to you. she shares it with you as a statement she doesn't assume you would find surprising to hear out of her.

sure, this is all according to my interpretation of tone of voice and whatnot compared to patterns in other auditive story telling, not to mention it's unclear how reliable deranged characters are BUT ISN'T IT INTRIGUING, ISN'T IT WORTH THE BRAINROT

i also love that it's mommy & miss delight so openly vocalizing recognizing you, two characters directly tied to stella in one way or another; i mean, that player character is most likely a high-ranking employee is pretty much a given at this point, but stella was head of playcare but also of game station. do you see my vision. it would tie in neatly with the nightmare tape and with the reversed radio tape in the nightmare sequence, 'you missed the meeting', and the guilt described, which goes beyond survivor's guilt and paints you/player character as someone who feels like an accomplice, like someone who, had they been there, could have made a difference. or who, via inaction/ignorance/passivity let the things that happened happen, which works for stella, who, as the hartmann incident tape confirms, did not know what was happening.

and... i tired myself out and have to log off again, if you read any of this, remember matpat is retiring in march

on a separate note, could this bigger bodies mommy (our mommy ♥) be ms harper

#;ooc #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime spoilers #i didn't want to make it small text because when i did my brain started crying so #assuming most of y'all are neurodiverse like i am let's hope this makes it more readable and #if you have 'open read more automatically' or however it's called that it doesn't jumpscare you #ANYWAYS i spent so much time on this post that i have to log off again pardon for the sudden brainrot #but i've been thinking about this for days and even tho it still is wonky once written down i'm glad i did lmao #BTW in case this wasn't clear: this is what my brain is hyper-focusing on rn #came back to add the picture my sister suggested it #ANWAYSY NOW I'M OFF I'LL BE BACK LATER TONIGHT MAYBE #Personals May interact with this one actually

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talkfantasytome · 2 years

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Autumn Leaves

Nesta watches leaves from her favorite spot in the cabin as she and Cassian settle in for their weekend away.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 713 | Nessian Masterlist

The Cabin Masterlist | Read on AO3

a/n: I wrote three drabbles in a notebook while I was concussed. Idk if I'll write more in this AU, or when, after those first three. But it was a nice little escape, and a way to not just be bored and twiddling my thumbs while I was supposed to avoid "stimulating my brain".

The forest was on fire.

Not in a dangerous, smoking, terrifying way. It was a calming, comforting fire. The kind that only appeared in the height of autumn, before death extinguished it with the cold of winter.

Treetops blazed in hues of crimson, mustard, and amber. They surrounded Nesta on all visible sides, alternating chaotically. No pattern or symmetry could be seen, yet it was perfect.

Green was a foreign concept here, in the valley below the mountains. Nesta knew that, above the cabin, evergreens flourished, leading you up to the mountain's very peak. But below them, it was all fire.

She held her mug of warm cider in both hands, close to her chest. It heated her skin as much as a sip did her organs. Necessary on a day like today, a nip in the air that followed them inside. She inhaled the steam, savoring the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon.

It was a treat from their favorite orchard. Always their first stop when they came up to the cabin. An hour of apple picking to stock up for the weekend, and then they'd add a half-gallon of spiced cider and a case of apple cider donuts to round out the purchase. Calories didn't count in the cabin.

That's what Nesta told Cassian, that first time she added donuts to their little cart. He gave her a toothy grin and agreed wholeheartedly. The next year he even surprised her with a sign, painted by her artist-sister, with the saying on it. The sign now hung above the entrance to the cabin's kitchen.

Taking a sip, she let the warmth of the drink flow through her as she continued to stare out the window. In the light of the afternoon, the view was so clear through the glass she could barely make out her own reflection. She couldn't see the oversized, burnt sienna sweater she was wearing, or the mahogany and ginger flannel blanket her legs were curled under. It was just trees and leaves as far as the eye could see.

It was her favorite spot in the house. The large window jutted out a bit, leaving enough room for a cushioned bench seat. She'd added some throw pillows for aesthetic and comfort when Cassian started bringing her up here, which she now leaned on, propped up against the wall.

It maybe her favorite spot in the whole world. It was impossible for the serenity of the trees to not take her over when she sat there. All of her worries and anxieties, her stresses and disappointments just faded away when she was there. Whether by some magic in the cabin or a natural effect of nature, Nesta was at peace. And she always savored the feeling.

"Got it!"

Her husband's voice flowed through the air, followed by the soft crackling of a flame recently born.

"Give it a few minutes and we'll have quite the roaring fire," he added, walking backwards toward her. His eyes remained on the fireplace, as if even a blink could destroy his work.

Nesta sighed softly, "It will be perfect."

Finally turning, Cassian beamed at her. He closed the gap between them and then lifted Nesta slightly, moving her so he could slide into the seat behind her. Once he was situated, she leaned back again, this time against his chest. Nesta adjusted the blanket to cover the legs that were now stretched across the seat on either side of her.

"It always is, with you here," he breathed. Cassian pressed a gentle kiss to her head before grabbing his own mug from the end table by them. "How are the leaves this year?"

Nesta's gaze followed a particularly bright red leaf as it fluttered to the ground. "Wonderful." She rested her head against his shoulder. "Even better now that you've joined me."

He was the true magic of the cabin. And not just because it was his long before they'd ever met.

Cassian smiled against her temple as his free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Nesta closer to him.

No. The magic was Cassian himself - his strength, his confidence, his unfailing optimism - that brought peace to Nesta's life. It was his very essence in the cabin that enveloped her with it here.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @lady-winter-sunrise @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @aks18 @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list! 😄

#nessian #nessian fluff #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian au #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar fic #modern au #autumn vibes #autumn fluff

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lepetitloir · 1 year

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Gathering my thoughts on Ada Vessalius, because I keep being conflicted about her. (opinions under cut, warning: SPOILERS)

Very noticeable about Ada is that she's mostly there to help the arcs of other characters (Noise, Vincent). Beside that, she's portrayed as an innocent woman, sort of oblivious about what's going on around her. Characters purposefully leave her out of it in order to protect her, ever since she was 8. So, of course it's not her fault that she's oblivious.

The story points out many times that Ada is very much a woman. She's pretty, she easily cries, she's soft, and Vincent the Misogynist hates her (the chapter Persona makes us very aware that Ada is a woman).

In Pandora Hearts it's portrayed as a feminine trait to be innocent and oblivious, but it is also portrayed as feminine to overcome these traits (I'm thinking of Sharon and the Rainsworth ladies here). In fact, I think it's meant to be a sign of female strength to overcome these traits. Ada is dragged into the story more towards the end, and in the face of the darker themes that people kept her out of, she stands tall and accepts that she's different, but that it doesn't mean she can't be with the other characters. I think admitting that (accepting you are different and that's okay) makes her very strong. Not only that, but also that she still tries to understand those who are different than her.

It's beautiful and strong that she is the one to understand Vincent and his trauma, understand that he struggles with himself, and that she wants to face him and tell him it's okay and she forgives him. It's strong that she is the one to directly address the issue, where other fail to do so.

Except, it would be nice if that was the case, but it's not really like that, is it?

She's able to directly address the issue because she hasn't really seen the other side. Sure, Noise tells her that Vincent manipulated her, and Ada describes there being a sadness around Vincent, but she doesn't know what he did during the series?

When it's revealed that she and Vincent are dating, I got the reaction "Oh no Ada doesn't know what Vincent has been up to in the story". Later events were able to convince me that Ada stood strong and that she sort of knew what she was doing (trying to get to know Vincent, which means she knows she doesn't really know him). Yet, after reading the manga, I come to the realisation "Oh no Ada still doesn't know what Vincent had been up to in the story". The initial issue of her not knowing of Vincent's actions is still there. So when she says she forgives him, it feels wrong.

I was thinking of the way white-haired Alice and Vincent """forgive""" Jack, but in those cases, Jack gave them some self-worth and to them, that outweighed Jack's manipulations. (Side note: I use the word "forgive" just for the comparison, they don't actually forgive him, but they appreciate the good he's done to them) The point is, they are aware of Jack's bad actions, but still decide his good actions were worth something. They have the full picture.

Ada doesn't, so how much value do her words actually hold? Despite that, I know it's important for her to say those words, and I find it really sad that Vincent is touched by them, no matter how much weight they actually hold (and he most likely is aware of the lack of weight). He's just that desperate to be forgiven. Good for him.

But it takes the strength out of the moment if I look at Ada. It would have been such a Moment if she'd forgiven Vincent knowing the full picture. Oh well.

Err anyway, Ada's oblivion is also portrayed as strong on its own. I like that, the idea that you could be doing something good even if you're not aware of it. "Just be kind" is the message, and yeah no one can dissagree with that.

I don't hate VinceAda! Let me be clear, I remember absolutely loving them as a couple after I finished the manga for the first time in 2016. But ehmm... the reason I like them is because I adore Jun Mochizuki's choice to not let them be together at the end. In the last official guide (the only one I own ;-;), in the interview with her and Chizuru Kobayashi, she mentions that Vincent has done too horrible things to stay with Ada, and Jun Mochizuki couldn't image them ending up together. I respect that so much, because I agree! It's what makes this couple so perfect for me: the author not forcing them into something.

Lastly, here are some smaller thoughts I have about Ada:

I like that one of her attempts at getting to understand Vincent is trying to find similarities in them (so she tries to talk about the occult with him). It's nice that later, she can accept that they are most likely two completely other people.

I think a part of Noise's arc is overcoming internalized misogyny. That's why it's so important that Ada is very feminine. She is the sort of woman Noise would hate. An "other girl", not like her.

In the end, when Gilbert tells Ada Vincent is dead, Ada cries because Gil telling her that means that Vince is alive.

(aaaahh that was the end of my silly takes! English isn't my first language so sorry if my grammar is off!)

#pandora hearts #ada vessalius #i... do not understand gender... so i could be very wrong about the feminine trait thing...#my opinions

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 21

(Ch. 20) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "It's born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times."

A/N: Bit of a long one tonight, y'all, but I PROMISE it's worth it, even if for no other reason than to twist the knife in your heart lol because this one hURTED

WARNINGS: ANGST ANGST ANGST, Mixed Signals, Jealousy, Situationship, Conflicted feelings, idk the usual FOF tags lol.

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away

Contemporary: October 25th, 1944. Driel, Netherlands.

Chewing absentmindedly on her thumbnail as she read, Alix tried to ignore the all-too-familiar feeling of eyes boring into the side of her head.

She didn't even have to turn to look; she knew instinctively who it was.

It was Joe.

It was always Joe.

He had been casting wounded glances in her direction like a kicked puppy ever since she'd stormed off the day prior.

Ever since the letter.

Her chest still ached at the memory.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see “To My Love” inscribed on the letter’s flap like an epitaph.

Like her epitaph.

He wasn’t yours to lose in the first place, Alix chided herself, trying to force herself to stare at the novel she’d gotten in the mail days earlier. Let him be.

But her eyes wouldn’t focus and the deep, icy pain in her chest just wouldn’t leave her alone.

There was no denying it: he hadn't left her mind.

He had been there for her when she needed him most and then…then nothing.

Had it just been pity for her distraught state that kept him there that night?

All signs pointed to Yes.

A month of silence, empty gestures that clearly meant nothing to him, and then a letter from a sweetheart he had apparently been writing to the whole time... Frankly, Alix wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or slap him.

Perhaps both; perhaps neither.

Deep down, under all of the hurt and confusion and betrayal she felt, all she wanted to do was run to him for a hug and for answers, for the truth:

Was any of it real or was it all just an act?

Was she just a passing amusement for him?

Was trying to woo her some sort of sick joke?

Had it just been to prove that he could?

Regardless, she’d rather take a nosedive off the Strawberry Mansion Bridge in midwinter than ask.

No man was worth that kind of humiliation, not even Joe.

With a sigh of annoyance, Alix tried to turn back to her worn copy of Wuthering Heights but found herself staring emptily at the pages again.

Skip and Don had been in and out for most of the morning, on some patrol or other, leaving the more or less immobilized spy to her own devices as she waited for the patrol to return, hopefully with a medic so her ankle could be fixed and she could finally get back to work.

She could feel Joe’s eyes on her again, could feel the mournful puppy-dog stare she would encounter were she to look over, and it took all her self-control not to limp over there and tell him to go make eyes at his darling Millicent but fortunately, she didn’t think she’d be able to hop down off the fallen oak by herself.

Just then, a thickly-accented voice interrupted her ruminations.

"’Scuse-moi but uh, Nixon said you were lookin' for me…?"

Lifting her head from her reading, Alix saw a medic standing a bit away, hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot as though nervous to approach her.

He was taller than she’d expected him to be, pale and square-jawed with close-cropped black hair and tired eyes so dark a blue that it took her a second to register their color.

“Did he?” she inquired, her brows knitting slightly.

It wasn’t like her case officer to go out of his way to be nice.

The man inclined his head, the ghost of a small smile gracing his face like moonlight over frost.

"Mais ya. Said you banged up your ankle real bad an' that I oughta have a look at it before you make it worse."

There it is, Alix thought with an inward chuckle. There’s the Blackbeard I know.

“Fair enough,” she replied with a simple shrug. "C'mon then."

The man's eyes were alight with quiet mirth, but Alix could see the worry lines etched into his forehead, his thin lips pressed together pensively.

He seemed almost afraid to smile, the spy noted, taking a peek at him overtop of her book as he got himself situated.

Like any moment it could be taken from him.

He was watching her too but Alix pretended not to notice, leaning down and focusing her energy instead on gingerly untying her shoelaces.

Her ankle had been numb most of the day but as soon as she attempted to shift the tongue of her boot even slightly, an agonizing bolt of lightning shot up her leg and she let out an involuntary yelp of pain.

Both the medic and Joe’s heads whipped around at the sound of her cry but before the latter could put down the letter he was writing and get to his feet, the former was already at her side.

“You wan’ some help with that?” the dark-haired medic inquired, concern written all over his features but at first, Alix tensed out of sheer habit.

There was nothing she hated more than asking for help.

But there wasn’t a trace of pity or contempt in the medic’s voice, only kindness, and she slowly allowed herself to relax.

“Maybe,” she answered apprehensively. “If you can keep it from hurting like that again.”

“I can try but it’s gonna start out painful. You gonna hafta trust me."

"Not exactly my strong suit.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” the medic replied, extending a hand with a shy smile.

“I’m Eugene, by the way…Eugene Roe. But you can jus’ call me Gene, if you wanna, like y–”

A loud cough of irritation interrupted their conversation and Alix discreetly peeked over her shoulder to see that Joe had paused yet again from his scribbling to light up his third cigarette of the hour with a scowl as dark as a storm cloud.

Alix shot him a death glare which he pretended not to see.

The sheer audacity of Joe Liebgott to be acting jealous when he had been leading her on for so long, when he’d abandoned her for a month, all while writing home to his real sweetheart, when he was writing to her even now with Alix sitting feet away…

How dare he.

With a toss of her hair, Alix turned her attention back to the medic in front of her, who seemed a bit taken aback by the intensity of her expression.

“Pleasure to meet you, Gene,” she replied with a bright smile. “I’m Alix.”

"I know," he admitted sheepishly. "We met before, used ta work together actually. Was gonna tell ya earlier but…"

He trailed off, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the abrupt interruption.

"Sorry,” Alix said, wincing at her own impaired memory. “My recall's still shit."

But Eugene seemed to take it in stride.

"C'est bon," he responded with a shrug and an understanding smile. "Was a long time ago anyway."

"Still," the spy confided with a frustrated grimace. "I hate not being able to remember things…people..."

"It'll come back, cher," he assured her with a comforting hand on her cheek and her eyes went wide but she didn't pull away.

"Jus' gotta give it some time. For now–"

He gave her a sweet smile that made her feel warm inside.

"Think of it like a fresh start."

From several feet away, Joe cleared his throat again, a raucous sound, and the medic seemed to instantly come back to himself.

Losing his nerve, he quickly pulled his hand away, focusing all his energy on positioning them lightly on her boot instead.

"Now, uh, you ready to get this thing off?"

Alix nodded with gritted teeth and Eugene began to count down.

“Une…Deux…Trois!”

One sudden flash of pain and both her sock and boot were off.

“Merci beaucoup,” she exhaled, her whole body seeming to sag with released tension.

Thank you so much.

The medic’s face lit up with delight like a kid on Christmas.

“Your French don' sound half bad, cher!"

"After 12 years of it in school, I sure hope not," Alix joked and the medic visibly brightened at the sound of her laughter.

"Mais ya, it sounds real good. Y'ain't Cajun but then, there isn't nobody outside the bayou that talk like us."

Suddenly seeming to remember what he'd come for, he busied himself with rolling up her pants leg and examining her swollen ankle, which was now a mottled black and blue.

True to his word, he was careful to touch it as little as possible.

"You been walkin' on it a lot, eh?"

"A fair bit," she conceded. "Just when necessary."

The medic shook his head, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

"C'est pas drole que's all fucked up then. You got a dislocated ankle, cher, an' you been overworkin' it."

No wonder, huh?

Alix could've laughed. She'd spent her whole life chafing against life's constraints. She couldn't stay off her feet for too long even if she tried; she'd go crazy.

"What do you want me to do, Gene, quit my job?"

It had been a joke but the medic wasn't laughing.

"If that's what it takes," he intoned as he began to rifle through his bag in search of a splint set, scolding her affectionately all the while.

"You're lucky you ain't got a fractured foot! Once I do the reduction, you gotta be gentle while it's healin'. That means you gotta stay off it, you got that, pichouette?"

Pichouette.

Mischievous girl.

A term of endearment but a playful one.

“From cher to pichouette that quick, huh?” she teased and he shook his head at the ground to hide his shy grin.

"You really shoulda been more careful, y'know," he chided gently, ignoring her teasing as he began busying himself with his bag.

"You got me… an' Joe an' uh, other people real worried about you."

“It’s sweet of you to worry but I’m not your problem, Gene,” Alix mumbled but he paused his search to glance up at her.

“If you were a problem, I wouldn’ta been worried at all, cher,” he said kindly and Alix could feel the warmth of his tone like a hug.

“Now, I’m gonna need you to hop down an' lay flat on your back for me, ya?”

But the spy shook her head, suddenly self-conscious.

“Um Gene…One problem.”

Eugene cocked his head, brows knit in silent confusion.

“I can’t.” Alix mumbled, inwardly berating herself for forgetting.

“Not without landing on my bad foot. Skip helped me up here but I’d need help getting down.”

The medic immediately rose from his kneeling position, arms extended.

“Jump.”

The spy shook her head emphatically.

“That’s a negative, Gene. I don't do heights, especially not after my last jump."

Eugene cocked his head.

He didn’t seem angry, just confused.

“You don’ trust me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” the spy grimaced. “I’m just not in the habit of trusting people too easily.”

The sweet-faced Eugene took a timid step closer to the trunk of the oak, his voice soft and reassuring.

“Mais, lemme change that then.”

Alix could feel her resolve waning bit by bit but she still had some lingering doubts.

“What if you drop me?” she asked, noting the man’s almost fragile-looking frame

but he chuckled, a sound as warm as the sun rays dappling nearby leaves.

“Cher, I been carryin’ 200 pound wounded troopers back an' forth for Lord knows how long now. I ain’t gonna drop you.”

There was such an earnestness about the medic’s face that she didn’t have the heart to refuse any longer.

“Fine,” she grumbled, trying to keep from looking down. “But you’d better not drop me.”

Even a minor jump felt major since her previous but she resolved to trust him anyway.

After taking one last breath to calm her nerves, Alix leapt into the medic’s waiting arms.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Despite his slight build, Eugene was a great deal stronger than she’d expected and when he scooped her out of the air, Alix couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest, even as their noses nearly brushed.

“Okay, okay, you proved your point,” she giggled as he gave her a boost, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist for security, but Eugene wasn’t done.

“Told you I wasn’t gonna drop you, cher,” he remarked with a rare, playful grin, those entrancing eyes of his sparkling in the sunlight.

“Gonna hafta eat crow now, eh?”

Alix swatted at his shoulder jokingly and was it her imagination or were the tips of his ears turning bright pink?

“You, Eugene Roe, are ridiculous,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself.

Roe licked his lips nervously, his gaze seeming to linger on her mouth for a second as though he were pondering something he shouldn't.

For a brief second, she was somewhere else as an image of herself and Joe flashed before her, the two of them kissing in the moonlight...

But Alix's mind brought her crashing back down to Earth as the memory of the letter, of Millicent's smiling face, of the words "My Love" sealed with a kiss swam before her...

Feeling her stomach drop, Alix turned her head away suddenly, and Roe got the message, his gaze returned to her eyes immediately.

“I'm sorry, I-I uh…” he stammered and Alix gave him an understanding smile.

“Don’t worry about it."

The medic swallowed anxiously, his heartbeat thundering stronger and stronger against her chest like a caged animal.

Keeping his hands securely wrapped around her, he gently guided her down onto her back in the grass, his body just grazing over hers and Alix felt something strange stir within her.

There was a delicacy about his features, even in shadow, that Alix hadn't noticed before his face was hovering inches from her own.

Joe was a blazing wildfire, as passionate and intense as the sunlight beating down on Gene's back, and she was a moth, ever attracted to his flame.

But Eugene... He was different, more aloof, almost serene, but with a gentle magnetism as well that drew her curiosity like the moon and tides.

Even hovering just above her, with his arms lightly caging her against the ground, there was still an unfathomable distance in the medic's eyes, as though he was searching for something in her eyes that he couldn't quite reach.

He radiated a more subdued light but it was still present, and there was a gravitas that grounded him in even his lightest moments.

He wasn't Joe. But maybe that was okay. Maybe he didn't have to be.

The tension between them was as thick as a morning haze and Alix found her own pulse racing as she looked up at him, the flurry of butterflies in her stomach battling the confusion in her mind and the heartache in her chest.

An unspoken fondness seemed to radiate from within Gene’s night-blue eyes as he gazed at her and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been lingering under the surface all along.

He had said they’d worked together in the past… If that was true, then perhaps he’d kept that fondness hidden for a reason.

Just another "impossibility", Alix thought sadly. Another "almost".

Still, she couldn't deny that there was something about him, a warmth, a comfort that she hadn't noticed before that seemed to pull her to him.

Perhaps it was his gentleness that both drew her and repelled her at the same time.

After all, he had been trained to save lives; she had been trained to take them.

Life and Death.

An impossibility.

She saw his gaze drift down to her lips again, but this time, she didn’t turn away, even as she heard the angry clatter of Joe dropping his canteen to the ground.

Eugene leaned down, his eyes timidly asking a question she already knew her answer to, when a piercing wolf-whistle rang out, startling the medic so much that he rolled off her immediately with a muttered “Merde” just as a cluster of paratroopers emerged from the brush.

"Way to go, Doc!" someone jeered and there were snickers and scattered applause throughout the remainder of the group as the medic sat up and began feverishly rifling through his canvas bag instead, sorting bandages and the like as he avoided the stares.

“You guys are a real riot,” Alix commented sarcastically, propping herself up on her elbows and making a face at the gawking newcomers.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than gape like goldfish?”

A man near the front of the group who Alix recognized as Joe's friend, Sergeant Talbert hooted,

"Damn, we go on patrol and miss all the fun! Wonder if they–"

"Tab, shut your goddamn mouth before I shut it for you!" Joe snarled uncharacteristically from his spot in the clearing and Tab held his hands up, wisely choosing not to continue his statement.

The spy glanced nervously over at Joe who set his jaw and turned away, glaring daggers at the grass instead as though daring it to wilt under his stare.

"All y'all can get a move on already," Bull commanded with the exasperated sigh of an elementary school teacher attempting to control an unruly class.

"Ain't nothin' to see."

Once the returning group had begun to disperse, the medic ceased his search and turned to look at her, seeming almost helpless, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

"I'm sorry… I mean, I shouldn'tve… Mais, you an' Joe… Did I–"

"NO," she stated sharply– more like a punch to the gut than a reassurance– before shaking her head and correcting herself.

"No," she repeated, gentler this time. "You're fine, Gene."

"But I thought y'all–" Roe began, casting a worried look over his shoulder at Joe but this time it was Alix who reached out with a wan smile and a reassuring hand on his cheek, turning him back to her.

"Well, you thought wrong."

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normallyxstranger · 1 year

Text

Hard Feelings

featuring Andy Foster & Vivian Cole— characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland

(@normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com)

original fiction (repost) | approx. words: 1300 | general warnings: n/a | largely unedited | reblogs allowed & encouraged

No one ever called the diner by name. Maybe Dine Right Diner never quite caught on because of the cheesiness of the title. It was just “the diner”, an appellation that everyone in the city–in the immediate vicinity especially—knew. There were other diners, other restaurants, and eateries, but the Dine Right was unlike the others. Not really because of the greasy spoon menu items, or the dim lighting and chipped Formica tabletops, or even the general slow-moving, altered ambiance of the diner. It was something else. Location maybe? It was smack-dab in the center of the city, an easy-to-find sort of place.

Andy always thought it was location-based, but more than that—it was the people. The cooks and wait staff, the customers. Everyone who passed through the diners doors and spent any amount of time there had a story to tell, had some kind of extraordinary presence. She had wondered, before, if didn’t have something to do with the mystical origins of the city itself and the complexities of its composition. Was the diner built on some vortex of power? On some in-between sort of space, ever shifting?

These were the sort of things that came to her mind as she stood at the diner’s counter, waiting for someone to take her order. The feel of the place was warm today, which the witch took to be a sign of good things to come. It wasn’t overly crowded either. Her gaze searched the dining room, searching out familiar faces. There were a couple—customers who were usually here, or others she might’ve seen at the store, or who visited her shop. There was one woman she was sure was a cashier at the grocery store. Andy gave a pleasant smile when she was caught looking and immediately shifted her gaze back to the counter.

She'd often wondered why Vivian, the Alpha of the Newfound Pack, worked at a place like this. Was it convenience? Was it because this place was a central hub and she could keep an eye on things? Or was it something else? She'd always considered asking Glen about it but they'd never quite gotten around to talking about that. Or much else.

Laughter came from behind the closed kitchen door. Through the round window, Andy could see one of the cooks moving back and forth, and then the top of a head, brown hair pulled back. And then Vivian emerged from the door, adjusting the strings of her apron. The smile on her face faltered for just a second when she saw Andy.

It wasn’t really a surprise to see the red-haired witch there. She came in several mornings a week to pick up coffee for herself and the others at the magic shop. It made sense that she’d be there this morning. It only startled Vivian, as it always did. She liked Andy well enough, but some of that like had soured after the way she had treated her cousin Glen. Break-ups had a way of doing that. Vivian truly didn’t hold any bad feelings toward—except that she kind of did. Sometimes, the ferocity of those feelings took her by surprise, as it did in this case.

Her smile didn’t stay gone long, though perhaps a bit dimmer than before, when she directed it at Andy again. “The usual?” She probably didn’t even need to ask.

“Yeah.” Andy put her hands on the counter, fingers drumming for a second. “Well, no. You can forget Vinnie’s. She’s not at the shop this morning.”

Vivian gave a small nod and began prepping the coffee. Three to-go cups—all with milk and sugars —for the girls at Embers & Ashes.

The scent of fresh brewed coffee was strong, wafting throughout the diner. It was one of the many things that made the place seem warm today, Andy thought, even if Vivian’s smile had seemed to cool the atmosphere down a bit. She didn’t blame her though. The whole thing with Glen was fucked up and Andy was still deeply sorry about it. Apologies had been given and the mending process was underway. She hesitated though, wondering if she should—No, probably not a good idea. Pissing off a werewolf —especially the alpha of the local pack was a bad idea. It had been a while, yes, but digging open a still healing wound wasn’t how she wanted to spend her morning. And Glen wasn't here to act as a barrier, though given the circumstances, she wasn't sure if he'd hold off his cousin or not. The hurt was still too fresh.

She debated, watching Vivian add the milk to the cups. Finally, she came out with it, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “How’s Glen?”

Over the scent of warm coffee, Vivian could smell a mixture of herbs covering Andy's nervousness. It had a scent like sweat—salty, sharp. She'd rather smell the coffee, but close proximity and her heightened senses didn't afford her much choice. Vivian paused to clean up some milk that had sloshed onto the counter. Her lips pressed together, forming a thin line for just a minute. “He’s okay.” Andy asked once in a while. Maybe she was trying to ease some of her guilt, maybe she was genuinely concerned. Whatever it was, there was a pattern to it —she wouldn’t ask every time, and she always was direct about it, which was something Vivian appreciated. She’d rather someone drive right to the point of something, instead of trying to be delicate about it. She understood sometimes tact was important, but not for something like this. They both knew what it was. It didn’t have to be delicate.

At least not too delicate.

“He’s fine,” she said again, when she realized her tone might’ve indicated her cousin was anything but fine. Vivian placed the cups into the cardboard carrier and placed it on the counter, tilting her head up to view the much taller woman’s face.

It seemed like Vivian wanted to say more, and Andy actually hoped she would. Maybe elaborate on how he was okay. Maybe give her a clue about what was going on in his life. But Andy didn’t deserve to know, not really. She’d blown her chance and she knew it.

“That’s good,” she said, mustering up a smile. She passed the bills to Vivian before her fingers found a hold on the carrier. “Tell him I said ‘hey’.”

Another thing she always added. To say ‘hey’, or ‘hi’, or 'tell him I’m thinking about him’. Vivian hadn’t yet figured that out. It was either kindness or desperation. Andy was trying to do her part, but maybe trying too hard. But what did she know? She nodded anyway, smiled, counted out the change. “Sure. I will.” She rarely did.

Andy’s smile turned more genuine as she pocketed her cash. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” Her gaze swept to the side, taking in the smattering of customers, feeling the strangeness of it all, and noting how the place no longer felt as it had before. It had shifted again. Maybe it was because she was leaving, or maybe it was because of the exchange with Vivian. Either way, the diner didn’t feel so welcoming now.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, as she flipped hair over her shoulder and backed her way out the door, balancing the coffees carefully—with just a little bit of telekinesis to ensure she didn’t drop them.

Vivian watched her go before she released the inside of her lip. Andy’s heart was in the right place, she thought, but it would be a while before she could accept that any good would come from it. With a sigh, she grabbed her rag and started to wipe down the counter.

#short fiction #urban fantasy #The New Ashton Chronicles #TNAC #long post; short fiction #long post #long post tw #long post //#reblogs allowed & encouraged #.Andy.#.Vivian.#short fiction; Andy #short fiction; Vivian

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violetsareblue-selfships · 10 months

Text

A Shame

ShIp: Heizou x April | Word Count: 969 | Warnings/Tags: Food mention (like heavy), cheesy flirting hehe

A/N: so, here's the fic~ it's pretty much pure fluff (which is a good thing to post for a birthday, right?) anyways, I hope you all enjoy it! <3

When Heizou finds himself heading to Treats of Teyvat for the fifth consecutive day, he thinks it's finally time to ask out the cute barista/owner. The pastries and drinks she makes may be good but they're not what keep him coming back day after day. If he were coming simply for those, he thinks he'd likely stop in once or twice a week instead of this.

But April… Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh is what has him returning every day. He finds himself wanting to come up with more flirtatious lines to see which will make her smile (or maybe even blush) instead of relying on the same ones.

While he's always been one to easily gain crushes, he's never stayed hooked on someone like this for so long.

Just the other day he almost missed an important clue on a case because he was thinking about how she'd react if he kissed her knuckles! He's never that distracted while on the case.

April lights up when she sees him walk through the door and that solidifies his will. Before he leaves today, he's asking her out.

"Welcome back, Heizou." She says and his heart flutters a little. His name sounds so pretty from her lips. "What'll it be today?"

He racks his brain for the pastry he'd wanted to try next, smiling as she brightens more when he mentions it. His drink order is easier as it hasn't changed thus far and she nods.

"That's a great choice! Feel free to have a seat while I get that ready for you." April says with a smile and Heizou chuckles softly.

"Mm… Is a certain beautiful barista going to take her break to spend with me again?" He asks. It's happened a few times since the first, but not every day he's been in. Sometimes, she's too swamped to take the break at the moment.

A coy grin spreads across her face. "I think I can manage that. Only if a certain unfairly pretty boy goes to sit down." She giggles when his face turns pink at her throwing his words around on him and he goes to sit down as she's requested.

Heizou watches as she bustles around behind the counter to ready his order, smirking a little when she sets the sign on the counter that indicates she's taking a break.

"Here you go." April says as she sets down his food and drink, returning to the counter for a moment to grab her own. Every time she comes over without some kind of snack for herself, he always suggests for her to grab one so she's started doing it ahead of time.

They sit in silence for a moment as they begin to eat. As soon as he's taken the first bite of his pastry, she gets that look in her eye she does every time he tries something new. It makes him laugh softly. "This is good. Are you capable of making something I won't like?" He teases, chuckling more as her face turns pink.

"Mm, I dunno. You'll have to keep coming in here to see. Though… if you do order something you don't like. Tell me. I won't take it personal, I promise. I'd just want to give you something you actually enjoy." She says and he hums softly.

"Only if you let me pay for both." He huffs softly when she looks like she's about to complain. "Even if it's something not to my tastes, you are still the one who made it and thus, the one who deserves to be paid fairly for it. I will not let someone as precious as you be snubbed of something you deserve."

Her expression softens and the prettiest blush spreads across her face. The words to ask her out rise to his tongue but he barely restrains them, not wanting to cut off whatever response she'll make.

"You're too kind. But I'll accept that." She says with a smile. "You have a good heart, Heizou." She lets out a soft sigh. "It's a shame. Someone like you has to have their eye set on someone." Her words are quieter but not enough that he doesn't understand them.

"I do." He murmurs, continuing even as her expression falls slightly. "And she's sitting in front of me now."

April's eyes widen and she murmurs his name softly. Heizou smiles at her. "Actually, there's been something I've been wanting to ask you this whole time."

"That is?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she sips at her drink.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" He asks. Her eyes widen more and he's rambling words before he can stop them, mentioning that there's no pressure of anything more if she doesn't want it but that he simply had to ask.

Her laughter, bright and warm, cuts him off. "Of course, I would. That sounds lovely." Her smile melts him from the inside and he's grinning back at her instantly.

"Wonderful." Heizou says and she giggles softly. They plan out the when of the date while finishing up the rest of their food.

"Mm… My break's just about over and if I'm right, so is your lunch." April murmurs and he nods. "Then I hope the rest of your day goes well."

"Thank you. Yours as well."

They share a soft smile before Heizou comes up to the front to pay. "Now, will I be seeing you again before our date?" April asks and Heizou chuckles.

"Mm, most likely. I seem to have made a decent pattern of coming in every day…" He trails off and smiles as she giggles. "See you tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. Bye, Heizou." She waves at him as he leaves, both of them excited about the date to come.

#self ship #self shipping #self ship fic #self insert fanfiction #self insert fic #self insert #canon x si #canon x self insert #si x canon #self insert x canon #you're my new dream 💖🔎#my writing

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pickledpascal · 1 year

Text

Sweet Nothing

Chapter Four: You’re in the Kitchen, Hummin’

Summary: Blake and Will have an idea to get Abigail to open up better.

Warnings: A little bit of swearing, sex jokes (kind of)

Word Count: 2.5k

Sweet Nothing Masterlist

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On a day spent with Blake, in between classes and figuring out cases, Will brought up the subject of Abigail Hobbs. The girl with the serial killer father who obsessed over her, to the point that he would both kill and consume other girls with similar features to his daughter. Blake didn’t know much about the case until Will started talking with her, of course it was monumental–there aren’t many…. Families like Abigail’s.

They were in Blake’s office as she filled out some paperwork, something about the recent case with the man who created ‘angels.’ “Myself and Hannibal think Abigail would benefit from more time outside in the real world, while Alana believes it would help her more if she stayed inside a controlled environment and focused on getting better.” Will explained, adjusting his glasses slightly as a sigh of frustration escaped him. “She can’t stay in there forever and I’m…. afraid she won’t feel as normal anymore if she does.”

“All teenagers are different.” Blake responded, still writing down some notes as she talked. “I, for one, loved staying in my room. But I can imagine it gets very…. stir-crazy when the only thing she is,” She paused, “For lack of a better word, forced to talk about with others is her trauma.”

Once done with the report, Blake closed the folder with an idea forming in her head. She folded her hands on her desk and said, "If you truly believe Abigail would benefit from time outside the psych ward, it would have to be in a controlled environment. So, maybe, you can sign Abigail out and take her to my house. We can have lunch and do, really, whatever she'd like to do." Blake proposed.

Will pursed his lips, staring at the edge of the desk for a little while. "It will be hard for her to learn to trust you." He warned.

"I know the feeling." Blake countered. "I will be able to see the signs in case she feels uncomfortable or like backing out. Just make sure to remind Abigail that it's alright if she wants to leave at any time." She said softly, a light smile on her face.

Blake knows what it's like to be forced to do something that you may absolutely despise doing. To the point she may have a panic attack or a nervous breakdown.

Will nodded, eyes making their way upwards to meet Blake's. "Do you…. Think it would be okay if you invited more people?" He asked softly. Perhaps getting to know people not affiliated with the FBI would make Abigail more comfortable.

"I have a few friends I can ask to come over if it would help." Blake nodded.

—-------

"Are you…. Sure about this?" Abigail asked, nervously fiddling with the scarf around her neck. "I mean, I'm alright with it but are you sure this is not just…. For nothing?" She knew what this was for, to help her acclimate for a more 'normal' society but she didn't feel normal anymore. In fact, she wasn't sure she ever would feel that way again.

Will rubbed Abigail's shoulder as they stepped onto Blake's porch. "Doctor Bloom approved this for the fact that it would help your mental health, and I think so too." He admitted softly before he pushed on the doorbell.

The pair waited for a few moments before they realized some music was playing on the inside. Eventually, it stopped and Will could hear footsteps that gradually got louder signifying they were coming closer.

The door swung open to reveal Blake in much more laid back clothing. At the Bureau, Will was used to seeing her in turtlenecks and sweaters paired with some sort of blazer and plaid slacks. In her home, though, she wore a sweatshirt with a graphic design on the front and jeans. Blake's makeup style changed as well. She would usually light makeup at work with minimal eyeliner while in this more comfortable environment, her eyeliner was thick and winged at the end, and her blush was more apparent. The changes made Will blink, averting his gaze quickly as he felt a heat rising on his face.

"Hey, Abigail! It's nice to meet you, I'm Blake Adler." She introduced herself, holding out a hand to shake. She seemed more outgoing than usual, perhaps she was simply trying harder.

Abigail looked to Will for a moment as a crutch of some sort before she shook Blake's hand. The younger woman stayed quiet as Blake led them inside.

"I do have some friends over at the moment but I sort of yelled at them to keep it down. I can introduce them to you if you'd like. They're not necessarily extroverted but they're friendly." Blake joked softly, taking a small breath. "Anything you'd like to drink? Lunch is pretty much done, just let me know when you'd like to eat."

Abigail smiled stiffly, taking a look into the living room where she heard people's voices. They certainly were a colorful bunch of friends. "Water is…. Fine." She said softly. "Can I…. Talk with them?"

"Of course!" Blake said happily, filling up a glass of water to give to Abigail. "Just…. Ignore whatever Zach says." She warned, a light grimace on her face.

The younger girl's eyebrows furrowed as she took her water and made her way to the group in the living room. Abigail also took this time to admire Blake's home. She was born and raised in Minnesota, she grew up on hunting and her home showed that. With its many deer heads plastered on walls that were an off white and exposed deep wooden beams.

Blake's house was more maximalist and all-around darker than many stereotypical homes. Her kitchen had deep green cabinets with black and golden marble countertops, her walls were decorated with vintage posters and small paintings, and her furniture seemed vintage as well and yet her home had a modern feel. Abigail found Blake's home very…. Comfortable. It felt lived in and loved in ways she couldn't quite describe.

"I must admit…. I'm nervous too." Will sighed out, shaking his head slightly. He hoped this went well and he hoped Blake's friends…. Would like him.

Blake's lips quirked upward for a moment as she set some plates down on her table. "Will, you and Abigail will be alright." She then went over to Will and cupped his cheek which he leaned into. "This could be a turning point for Abigail. Either she understands you can't just turn off the bad stuff or she doesn't."

"And if she doesn't?" Will asked, swallowing thickly as his gaze drifted to the back of Abigail's head.

Blake let her hand drop to Will's shoulder. "Then her journey to acceptance of her situation will be a much longer road."

—-----

Abigail walked to the group, interrupting their conversation. She observed them for a moment. Blake certainly had a colorful group of friends, some with dyed hair and others with their natural hair color. Abigail had to admit, she had relatively normal looking friends before everything happened.

"Am I…. Interrupting?" She asked, suddenly feeling self conscious.

"Not exactly." A girl said with a polite smile, sending a glare in the direction of one of the boys. Specifically, the one with shoulder-length black hair and olive skin who wore glasses. She had purple streaks of hair dispersed through the rest of the brown.

Actually, Abigail noticed most of them wore glasses. Including Blake.

"Zach likes to…. Say a lot of things." Someone else piped up. He had a similar look to the one the purple-haired girl glared at but the underside of his hair was shaved and his face was rounder. "I'm Matt." He was the first to introduce himself. At least, Abigail could begin to put names to faces.

"Right! We didn't introduce ourselves yet. I'm Elle." The purple-haired girl said with a smile. "Zach's that guy." She motioned to the man next to Matt.

Speaking of, Zach mumbled under his breath, "You guys bully me." He crossed his arms and pouted like a child.

"What else are friends for?" A new voice joined. He certainly looked taller than everyone else and even, normal, compared to the rest of them. "I'm Chris." Chris kind of had the look of a frat boy. What the hell was he doing there?

Abigail cocked her head at Chris for a moment before her gaze drifted to the last person who had yet to introduce themself.

"Jayme. Also known as Jay or the resident trans rat bastard." They said, a light chuckle escaping them as they introduced themself. "And also the hater of the group." Jayme added.

Abigail let out a small but genuine laugh. She couldn't really remember the last time she laughed. It's been a while. Then she realized she hadn't introduced herself to them yet. Although, she expected Blake to have at least told them her name. "I'm Abigail. I don't really…. Know what I am right now." She admitted.

"Ah, that's fine. We have experience converting people." Jay joked, shrugging. Abigail cocked her head in confusion, not knowing what they meant.

Elle let out a sigh, "Some day, you're gonna have to accept that people are going to like men no matter what you do." There was a light joking tone in their voice.

Abigail raised a hand to her mouth to keep herself from laughing too loudly. Well, now she knew why Blake kept them around.

"Blake is a work in progress though. One day she will like only non-men and women and it will be glorious." Jayme clutched their fist as if their cause was a noble one.

Blake's voice cut through them from the kitchen, "I heard that, Jay!"

"You're halfway there! Being bisexual is just one step away!" Jayme yelled back, a light smirk on their face.

Elle chuckled nervously, "They're joking." She clarified for Abigail, afraid she may be taking it the wrong way. "It's not that Jayme hates bisexuals, they just hate men and don't really understand how…. Someone can like one."

"I don't think Blake is a work in progress anymore." Chris said in a hushed voice, discreetly pointing over to the kitchen. Slowly, all their eyes were on Blake and Will.

The scene unfolding in front of them, one could only describe as…. Affectionate. Cute, even. Music was still playing lightly in the background so they couldn't quite make out what they were saying but they didn't need words to know how the pair felt about each other.

Blake grabbed a thermos and filled it with some golden liquid that was being stored next to her stove. She then gave that thermos to Will who hesitantly pressed a kiss to her cheek in thanks.

Abigail realized. No one she talked with in the FBI talked about themselves so she didn't know much about Alana or Hannibal or Will, even. She could sense the tension between Alana and Will, though, and Hannibal…. Really everyone. They dealt with criminals for a living so it seemed everyone was on edge all the time, something she could now relate to. But with Will and Blake, there was no tension at all. In fact, Abigail saw Will's shoulders visibly relax as he stepped onto that porch.

"Oh shit…. She's giving him the cider. The I-Want-To-Fuck-You cider." Zach gasped, putting his hand on his chest as if he was truly shocked.

Elle's eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. "Blake literally gave all of us that cider. If that was true, she would've fucked all of us." She countered with a light laugh.

"Well, you never know." Zach shrugged.

"Zach, you have a girlfriend what the fuck are you saying?" Chris laughed, shaking his head.

Jayme's eyes widened, "Yeah. Weirdo." They teased with a small smirk.

"Abigail, you should eat." Will said from the kitchen, not necessarily listening to them but the words stuck in his mind either way.

The young girl nodded, giving those she sat with a small smile before she stood. Abigail walked over to the kitchen where Blake and Will stood by the counters. In front of Blake were two plates filled with a nice looking sandwich. She slid one over to Abigail as she sat at the counters and handed the other plate to Will.

"It's called the Adler Special. This sandwich got me covered all throughout college and even high school." Blake chuckled softly.

Abigail picked up a slice of sandwich with her two hands and observed it for a moment. The bread was toasted, the meat looked to be turkey, there was some sort of green on top–arugula–as well as some oil that seeped out onto the plate below. She took a bite and hummed at the taste. It's been a while since she's had a home cooked meal, psych ward food wasn't that good. So Abigail appreciated it more than she probably should have.

"Was…. College fun?" Abigail asked after a while, wiping her mouth with her arm. Ever since what happened, she felt hopeless that she wouldn't have a future. No more college. No more friends. No more…. Fun.

Blake shrugged, "It could be. Classes were a little hard but making friends is really what makes it fun." She smiled softly, "I was lucky enough to meet them during orientation." Blake motioned to the living room as she talked.

Abigail hummed in response, looking down at her meal.

—-------

As Abigail left to get into Will's car, Blake held Will back to talk with him. Among…. Other things.

Will blinked as suddenly Blake's lips were on his. He cupped her cheek as Blake set her hands on his waist. This kiss was a bit more heated than their first one…. It was also in front of people who actually knew them. But, for once, Will's mind was clear.

"W-What was that for?" He stammered as he tried to catch his breath, taking a deep breath.

Blake squeezed Will's waist for a moment, making the blush on his cheeks redden. "You looked like you needed it." She teased softly.

Will cocked his head slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You're worried about her." Blake jutted her chin in Abigail's direction, letting Will go so he could stand on his own. "She's made progress today, Will. And I think she'll continue that progress with your help." She said softly, caressing Will's cheek.

Sometimes people believed Will Graham didn't care about many things besides his dogs. But the truth was, if he started to care he would care too much and perhaps even destroy himself in the process. So he liked to distance himself as much as he could. But Abigail…. Will felt an obligation towards her after killing her father. Someone had to be there for her. And it was either going to be him or no one would.

"Just…. Watch her. And be careful. But also, don't act as if she's made of glass. Don't throw her against the wall and shatter her but maybe slam her against the table." Blake advised, planting another kiss on his lips.

Will breathed in softly, "I'll keep that in mind."

#will graham #will graham is soft #will graham x oc #hugh dancy #hugh dancy x oc #nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal is a cannibal #blake adler #sweet nothing

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