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thatonesongyouretryingtoremember · 1 month

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developing an idea for a pretty detailed/angsty MLP royal sisters origin AU(HCs and timeline) (Luna focused) (with a happy ending ofc) omgggg!!! (32 bullet pt.s below the cut) (comment something if I should add anything or if you have questions)

They're one year apart, Celestia is 15 and Luna is almost 14 when they become alicorns and very soon afterwards get crowned rulers, and they've had their cutie marks and been raising the moon/sun for a few years at this point.

They were both the magic apprentices of Starswirl before they transformed and became princesses (That part is actually canon I think)

Their magical abilities over the sun and moon are revered across the kingdom and they get crowned as rulers far too young because of how powerful they are. If a pony lives far enough away that they might never meet the princesses, they probably don't even know how young they are.

Luna and Celestia are both under too much pressure and it is severely Getting To Them, but in different ways.

Luna can't deal with it but it is much more difficult for her to keep her feelings on the inside than it is for her sister. Luna constantly cries and has to hide, leaving Celestia to handle whatever is going on by herself. Luna sometimes feels jealous that her sister is so "strong", but usually she just wishes she didn't have to be a princess.

Celestia can't make herself do anything besides move forward, but whenever they aren't in front of someone they have to behave for, she tends to act overly angry with Luna, Starswirl, their parents, or whoever. She is incredibly ashamed and whenever she has the energy she tries to make up for it and pretend like nothing is wrong, but Luna knows she is faking.

Luna sees how obviously stressed her sister is and tries to convince Celestia to step down from being a princess. All she wants is to be a normal kid again, she might even quit magic lessons.

Celestia works so hard to act like she's fine. She yells that Luna is the one leaving her to deal with ponies all by herself all the time, and that she should go hide in the dark for a thousand years. Their argument escalates until they fight and Celestia literally sends Luna to the moon. That happens two years after they become princesses, so ages 17 and nearly 16.

Celestia didn't know that alicorns were immortal yet, so she believed she would never see Luna again. It took another thirty or so years for her to reach her full height and power level(plus floaty hair), and all she could think of was how she would never see Luna grow up like she did. Luna would wake up after a millennium and be all by herself, just like how *she* was all alone right now. Celestia never really becomes friends with anyone for a while, and her parents never hear her even speak Luna's name for the rest of their lives.

Luna had a reputation for not liking anypony because nopony knew where she went when she disappeared to cry. When she banished and no explanation given, some noble-status unicorns started a rumor that Luna had been jealous of her sister. Celestia thinks it is selfish and cruel to allow ponies to think that of her fragile little sister, but she never disputes the rumors because she can't bear to say the truth about what she did.

Those rumors eventually become a bedtime story with an evil jealous princess with dark magic, Nightmare Moon. The story sticks around long enough that most ponies don't realize Princess Luna was real or that Celestia ever had a sister to rule with.

At some point, Celestia realizes she isn't going anywhere. She has long known the date of Luna's return and even created an annual festival as a count down timer for herself. But she never puts two and two together that she will be there to see Luna's return until that year grows very close.

When Luna is on the moon, she learns to navigate the dream realm. The moon isn't so much a place as it is a stasis state, but her mind can wander wherever it pleases. Many ponies have been visited by what seems to be a helpful spirit, an alicorn princess who is simply addressed as "Luna", but in the waking world she is known as the Princess of Dreams. She helps ponies to know what to do once they awake.

it takes years before Luna learns to access the dream realm, through sheer perseverance. She cried out one night from her own dream to another's she seemed nearby and realized she could literally reach out to them using her magic and cross in between dreams.

It takes even more years before Celestia hears about this. She halfway chalks it up to another fairy tale, something parents say to foals so they won't be afraid of the dark, or impatient or anxious for the coming day. The other part of her wishes somepony would tell her what to do in her dreams. This is nonsense of course, she is the monarch of Equestria and she always knows exactly what to do, she tells herself before drifting into sleep.

Luna doesn't exactly choose what dream she ends up in, she just follows a feeling of sorts. She has never visited her sister, but she vaguely remembers visiting Starswirl once. She spends years and years only in the dream realm and the days and nights all blend together. Whenever she is eventually released, it almost feels as if no time has passed at all, but her memory has faded all the same.

When Luna is returned, she is encapsulated in a shell made of matured alicorn magic just like Celestia's. She never really grew into it because she hasn't grown up yet. This entity calls itself Nightmare Moon, based on a powerful princess it saw in a child's dream. Nightmare Moon doesn't need anypony else, she never gets scared, she has a clear plan for exactly what to do with her kingdom, and she has powerful alicorn moon magic- she is perfect.

When Luna is freed from the shell, she is not only her teenage size, but visibly weaker from not being able to physically move for so long. She regularly zones out, but forgets whatever it is she was thinking when during that.

In her dreams, Luna is a young unicorn and her parents take care of her. Sometimes she replays a memory from what the kingdom was like a thousand years prior, but sometimes her parents are reimagined to teach her how to live in the present day.

Luna often struggles to understand modern stuff. She still uses old-fashioned grammatical structures because it's polite for her, but has picked up modern ponish language during her years in the dream realm helping out modern ponies.

With the way Celestia acts in the present, it's hard to believe she was ever the same pony Luna used to know. Celestia did eventually make other friends, as well as improved her mental health and her ruling capabilities. Sometimes, Luna doubts herself. Clearly, Celestia is a very capable leader, so does that mean Luna really was jealous and convinced herself that her sister was having the same feelings about ruling that she was just to justify wanting to step down? Was she truly in the wrong and trying to undermine Celestia's rule?

It's much more difficult for Luna to remember that far back than it is for Celestia, and her short term memory is pretty bad as well. It's hard to tell if that's because of her banishment, or because Luna always had a hard time with that sort of thing. Even now, Luna could tell you how to tell the difference between two (now extinct) wild cat species native to their mountain home, and which one was the dangerous one, but she could barely remember the events of her day sometimes.

Luna is not expected by Celestia to become a ruler again just because she's a princess. After all, just because her one-thousand-sixteenth birthday is on the horizon doesn't mean she isn't still a kid. All this is fine with the citizens because the lowkey forgot about her ever ruling in the first place.

Luna lives with Celestia some of the time, but Twilight is her guardian and her magic teacher. Until the return of the crystal empire, Cadence also frequently visited the Golden Oak Library to lighten the load, telling Twi it was just one of her royal duties, as she was the princess who often traveled for any royal duties outside Canterlot.

Luna's a little bit jealous that Twilight and Cadence got to grow up with the new Celestia, but she also feels isolated because nopony has the same complicated feelings about her that she does. Spike actually feels a similar way about Twilight, because Luna and the CMCs got to know Twilight only after her constant-study days when she'd ignore what he said, and long after she was young and hadn't fully realized Spike was more similar to a foal than a cat.

Luna probably has more questions about dragon culture than the other ponies do. Back before her banishment, the dragons were known to be another society, even if they were usually at war with ponies. Nowadays, it's been so long since contact with the dragons because Torch got bored of war centuries ago, that ponie didn't really know anything about dragons and didn't realize they had their own society and technology and language. Spike appreciates that Luna was the first pony he met who didn't think he was Twilight's tiny chubby pet at first.

When Twilight becomes an alicorn and gets crowned a princess, Luna gets pretty mad at Celestia until she realizes that Twilight is only given the amount of responsibility she is capable of, but she is still always ready to defend Twilight and stand up to Celestia.

Luna eventually gets comfortable being addressed as a princess, and even with being the ranking authority in certain situations, but she never gets the same type of ruler duties as Cadence and Celestia do.

By the time Starlight moves into Twilight's castle, Luna is beginning too consider moving out. There's plenty of space, so she gets to keep her room in the castle, but there's a whole lot of Equestria out there.

She packs light and is super chill, not necessarily the adventurer type, but she visits damn near every city on the map and meets tons of ponies her own age who she remains in contact with, before-

eventually attending Twilight's school of friendship for one term and befriending some of the other students from multiple different grades.

Yona, Smolder, Pinkie, and Maude become some of her best friends out of the canon cast, but she makes other friends too. The five of them bond over being willing to eat literal rocks, and not fitting in.

#she's literally the princess ever #HERRR #princess luna #mlp luna #mlp g4 #mlp fim #mlp au #mlp au lore #mlp princess luna #princess celestia #mlp celestia #about the pony show

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

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And Eat It, Too - Chapter Two: Once Upon a (Bad) Dream

In which Jon deals with traumatic dreams, makes a really unwise deal with Michael the Distortion, and pisses Elias right the hell off…

>>> NOW ON AO3!

Listen - Elias is on his bullshit in this one, so be prepared for emotional manipulation, gaslighting, etc.

Also, Jon is having Circus nightmares. The imagery is brief, but could be triggering.

(Masterpost including playlist)

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CHAPTER TWO

The smell of awful flowers wakes him.

Underneath it is something sour, all his own, from who knew how long in the same clothes and the same chair and only luck they let him use the bathroom twice a day. He feels gross. Ready to peel off his own skin, the Circus be damned.

His stomach rumbles. How long—

“A month,” says Elias from somewhere.

No, Jon doesn’t want to deal with him. Keeps his eyes closed. Petty and proud of it, thank you very much.

Elias sighs. “Really, is this necessary? I’d imagine you want to go home and get cleaned up as soon as possible. That won’t happen, however, until we have a little talk.”

I’m at the Institute, Jon thinks, remembering CCTV, remembering Helen, remembering that if he’s here, then someone will have seen him here, and he can be arrested, and he didn’t hurt anyone, and—

“Jon,” says Elias.

“Don’t you ‘Jon,’ me,” he snaps.

“There you are. I’d begun to worry,” Elias drawls.

Jon wonders if he still has the strength to deck him after all, potential broken hands be damned. “Wait. A month?”

“Yes.”

He sits up, room spinning wildly enough to make the Vast happy, and stares. “I was gone a month?”

“I understand you’re upset,” Elias says.

Maybe Jon was wrong. Maybe this was the nightmare, the real Corridors, and he was just going crazy with the worst possible scenario. He sputters, too many words trying to come out all at once and tripping over each other. “Did you even try to find me?”

The force of Elias’ gaze is heavier than Breekon and Hope’s fists. “Of course.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” Jon sounds like a child, hates it, hates feeling betrayed, abandoned. Replaceable.

Elias sighs. “I’m not omniscient, as much as I would like to be. When you appeared on CCTV in front of the hospital, I was as startled as anyone, and deeply relieved.”

That’s probably all he’s going to get. “Right.” Jon swallows.

Elias rises from the desk and comes around, holding a plate.

Jon’s not done. “Are they coming for me? Police?”

“No. For some mysterious reason, they couldn’t get a good look at your face.” Elias says, absolutely deadpan, and hands him a small pile of finger sandwiches. “Eat something before you pass out. This should be light enough that you can handle it.”

Jon groans and lies back. “No.” This feels bad. Everything is bad. Secretly, he hopes he’s staining the couch beyond repair.

“Really, Jon,” says Elias. “Such childishness.”

“Go to hell,” says Jon.

“Very eloquent. There is a reason I brought you here instead of taking you home.” He places the plate on Jon’s stomach and returns to his desk.

“I’m sure,” mutters Jon, and looks at him again.

Elias smiles, his usual under-the-skin expression that Jon once saw as banal and now knows is anything but. “So very curious to find Miss Richardson alive after all this time. So very curious to see you hand-delivering her to the hospital, practically wrapped in shiny paper and a bow. So very confusing to see you turn around, ignore the medical help that, I daresay, you felt in need of, and walk back into the Spiral’s door.”

Was it an accusation?

It felt like an accusation.

No—it felt like condemnation.

Jon swallows, trying to imagine Gertrude’s end, being shot three times and left to bleed out under the ground, unseen.

He wouldn’t feed me if he wants to kill me, would he?

Maybe it was poisoned. “What are you saying?”

“Merely trying to prompt conversation, during which you will—hopefully—share enough of your experience to indicate where the Unknowing is taking place.”

On one level, that makes sense.

Stopping the Unknowing is the priority. It has to be.

Still.

It was hard not to take this personally.

“It isn’t personal, Jon. We’re running out of time.”

Plastic hands, reaching under his shirt, rubbing lotion on him. “It felt personal.”

Elias ignores that. “I saw you appear on camera like a rabbit from a disreputable hat,” he says. “I was preparing to come to the hospital and help you when you turned around and chose a monster instead of anything reasonable. Jon, I need to know what happened. I need to know I can still trust you.”

Jon gapes at him. “Still trust me?”

“Yes.”

Jon feels like a sputtering tea kettle. “I’m not the one who murdered two people!”

“Yet you are the one we’re all relying on to stop the Unknowing. I cannot replace you, Jon, but if you have been compromised, I need to know now.”

“So just take it from my mind, then!”

Elias sighs. “I could. But what would that accomplish? We already have a fractured working relationship, Jon, and I have no plans to fracture it further. I am trying to work with you, not against.”

Absolutely amazing, the amount of censure Elias was able to put into those words. Jon finally sits up, lifts the sandwiches. Cucumber. Boring. The best thing he’s ever had in his life. “I am not allied with the Spiral,” he says between bites. “Are you out of your mind?”

Instead of answering, Elias lets him eat. He puts a tape recorder on the desk, then folds his fingers and looks at Jon expectantly.

A statement. Of course. “I need to go home.” (This is home.) (No, it’s not.) “I need sleep that isn’t done upright, tied to a chair.”

“Jon—”

“No! No. I shouldn’t even be alive, and I wouldn’t be if a literal monster hadn’t decided to play some sort of game involving promises of my imminent death—“

“Jon.”

“They were going to skin me!”

He’d screamed that.

“Jon.”

Jon stops.

Puts his face in his hands and just tries to breathe.

Elias’ tone is gentle. “I am sorry that I lack your power to make this statement easier on you. That is the ability of an Archivist, and I am not the Archivist. I do know, however, that you will feel better if you give your statement. Our patron will reward and heal you.”

“Right. Not like I can haunt my own repeated dreams, can I?” Jon knows that probably made no sense, and he laughs. It’s a bad sound.

“I’m listening.”

It’s soft.

It’s a command.

Someday, Jon wants to know how Elias can put so much authority into so little.

Jon tries.

Explanation is slow to come. He is tired; he’s pulled on his fledgling skills too much; he’s half-starved. He’s probably in shock. And it’s hard to think around Elias on the best of days.

For some reason, he elides Michael’s statement. What Gertrude did. The sacrifice she made of her assistant.

He also skips Michael’s dialogue toward the end. He doesn’t know why.

But at last, he’s nearly done. “I… Helen was… I had to promise to go back in order to save her, and …” He trails off. “It let me go. I don’t know why. I think I was too tired to entertain it anymore.” He swallows. “I think it might come back.”

Elias sighs. “The Spiral’s entire goal is to leave you fearful because you doubt your own judgements, ideas, and circumstances. Jon. Do you understand why I am concerned that you went back into it willingly?”

“I had to. If I’d lied, it would know.”

“Jon.”

Jon stands, thinks better of it, sits again. “I know. I know, Elias. But it wants to stop the Unknowing, and that matters more than any of the rest of this.”

“Does it?”

“Elias—”

“Here is the hard truth: as much as I would prefer to have options, there is no one else suitable for your role.”

“I—”

“Should you die, go mad, or, say, sacrifice yourself for some stupid woman who doesn’t even know your name, you are condemning us all to the Stranger’s new world.”

“That’s not—”

“It won’t bring Sasha back.”

Jon gasps. Can’t release that breath, not for a long moment.

The words cut him, burn, cauterize all the way down, searing unseen scars.

Elias lets him sit in it.

“That’s… not fair,” Jon finally manages.

“But it is true. I cannot hold your hand through this. I cannot stop you from throwing away the lives of your assistants, your friends, the entire world, if that is what you truly want to do—but I can and will make sure you know the cost.”

Jon stares at the floor. It’s too much. Sasha’s mention has undone him, cut the legs out from under his fight. “Did Gertrude know the cost?” he whispers.

“Gertrude… was very good, in her very limited way. Unfortunately, she became quite adept at hiding herself from me.”

“How awful for you.”

Elias sighs. “She was not a good Archivist, Jon, no matter what you may think. I only let her carry on so long because it made for an excellent distraction while I researched other things. Her violence, her ruthlessness, did not matter, but now things do. You will take risks as you learn. You will be harmed. That is unavoidable. But throwing yourself into death, especially for some woman whose survival changes absolutely nothing, is something I cannot ignore.”

Jon won’t take it back. Won’t apologize. Tries to say that if he stops caring about the Helens of this world, then he won’t be saving anyone but himself.

Nothing comes out.

He’s so tired.

Elias seems happy to see him cowed. “Was there anything else? Any details. Anything about the place where you were held.”

As though he hadn’t just eviscerated his Archivist.

Jon clears his throat. “It was a wax museum. Old, mostly abandoned, I think. I don’t know exactly where.”

“That narrows it down significantly. I’ll have the others start digging.”

“The others. Did… did they look for me?”

“They didn’t know. It wouldn’t have helped matters. Martin’s research, at the very least, would have been sloppier.”

Oh, good, there was more heart yet to cut out of him and boil.

Jon already knows what this means. They all just think I abandoned them, he thinks, and it wouldn’t be unfair, he did before, he went deranged and paranoid before, and nevermind that the Eye did it to him, that Not-Sasha did it to him, made him crazy—that detail didn’t matter.

Jon presses his hands into his eyes. There really wouldn’t be saving any friendships after this.

“I am going to give you some statements,” says Elias, kind now that he’d finished the butchering. “And I am going to call you a cab. Go to bed, Jon. I do not expect you in tomorrow, though you will need to fill out a return-to-work form when you do.”

Jon groans. “Really?”

“Bureaucracy is a little like the Corruption, Jon—ignore it at your own peril.”

That pulls a laugh—unwilling, unsteady, but true. “Maybe you should fill it out yourself.”

“Jon! That would be unethical.” Elias puts a hand over his heart.

He shouldn’t want this easy banter, shouldn’t accept this kindness, but there is nothing else, is there, nothing left that Jon hasn’t burned. “I don’t…” Don’t what? Don’t want to leave the Institute? Don’t want to miss an appointment? Oh, yes, my upcoming murder, he thinks. Speaking of which: “Georgie’s going to kill me,” he mutters.

“Miss Barker has been informed. She is expecting you.”

Jon stiffens. “Informed?”

“Jon, it is eleven o’clock at night. You’ve been unconscious on my couch for two hours. I had more than adequate time to make preparations.”

The image of Elias in the break room, painstakingly slathering cucumber with cream cheese and Worcestershire, feels completely unreal. “You called her?”

Elias sighs. “I didn’t think either of you would appreciate you banging on her door after midnight.”

Again, it makes sense.

Again, it hurts.

He wants to say, Leave her alone!, but it doesn’t come.

Georgie won’t be left alone as long as he’s in proximity. The only way to keep her safe will be to leave.

To put distance between.

Jon grinds his palms into his eyes again.

“Come along, Jon. It’s going to be alright.” Elias is positively gentle as he takes the empty plate and deposits it somewhere.

Jon lets Elias guide him to his feet. Ignores the hand at the small of his back, mutters thanks when his feet stop working and he nearly falls but for Elias’ grip, then goes silent until he’s in the cab and on his way to Georgie.

He hopes the cabbie doesn’t have a working sense of smell.

It was the second time today a monster had been gentle about guiding him to what it wanted. The thought didn’t feel very good.

“Long night, eh?” says the cabbie. “I know the feeling.”

Jon refuses to engage.

Georgie lets him eat ramen, lets him promise to explain tomorrow, lets him shower for nearly forty-five minutes, lets him throw his clothes away in a sealed bag (the map has inexplicably smeared, gone to one gray and useless mass), lets him commandeer The Admiral for the night.

The cat doesn’t mind. Purrs, rubs his scent all over Jon, flops onto his lap with expert grace, and doesn’t seem to mind when Jon cries into his fur.

“You don’t care about Gertrude, do you?” He says to the demanding fluffball, pulling his face back as the cat shows his tail. He manages a watery laugh. “I’ll bet she didn’t even like cats. Would’ve thrown you into the Lonely, or something, with a bell around your neck to shatter it.”

The Admiral curls up, still purring, and hides his face against Jon’s thigh.

Jon signs and leans his head against the wall.

He wants to sleep.

He doesn’t want to sleep.

Doesn’t want to wander people’s nightmares tonight.

Elias’ words still hurt, throbbing in his chest as if the blade broke off in there.

“They’d manage,” he tells the cat, “if I didn’t come back. Martin, and the rest. They already did for a month.” He flinches. “Longer than that, if we count the being framed for murder subplot. Don’t think I like this series much. Shall we cancel our subscription?”

But that sounds far more dire than he intended, and he thinks that’s his sign to go to sleep.

He hopes Georgie still cares enough to be mad on his behalf in the morning.

Nikola laughing in his face, her own nothing more than wrong indentations, eyes nose mouth moving and uneven and hungry

Jon wakes, panting. Sweating. He goes to the bathroom, washes his face, tries to return to sleep.

Nikola laughing with stolen voice box and spraying him with blood from someone else’s throat

He’s sick this time, heaving over the toilet bowl. Nothing comes up.

Breekon and Hope holding him so tightly it hurts, forcing his head back, bruising his jaw open

The bruises are there on his dark skin, visible once he’d shaved, and he stares at them in the mirror as he shakes and tries to steady himself.

Sarah Baldwin’s stolen face slipping from her plastic head as she pours water down his throat, more and more and more and

Sleep is cursed, he decides, as he wakes choking.

Tells himself he’s free, he’s not being drowned, he’s all right, no one is forcing him down or rubbing him with oil or skinning him alive or looming with stolen faces—

His sob catches him by surprise, and he claps his hands over his mouth, hoping Georgie didn’t hear him in the other room.

“What interesting sounds you make, Archivist,” comes from behind.

Jon flings himself forward, tangles his legs in the sheet, and faceplants on the floor with a thud.

He grunts.

That thump had to wake Georgie. He looks toward the wall.

“Your friend is a very deep sleeper, Archivist,” says Michael, who can’t be here, who shouldn’t be here, who is going to kill him here— ”Do not worry. We are alone. I do like your cat.”

Jon kicks loose the sheets and scrambles to his knees, white-knuckling the bedclothes. “Don’t hurt him!”

Michael is on the bed, on the bed, oh gods, stretched out like it’s waiting for its closeup. A brand-new door looms behind the bed, bright yellow against the outside wall.

(How did it even open? Why did it choose there? Does it make the Spiral happier when the door is against an outside wall and therefore makes you doubt it is an outside wall, after all?)

The Admiral is playing with Michael’s long, curly hair. “I don’t believe you have much left to trade, Archivist,” says Michael, and raises its hand.

Jon gasps, thinks impalement, cruelty, The Admiral’s blood—

Michael pets the cat. Its fingers are too long, jointed in incorrect places, but they tease the Admiral’s back without causing damage. Judging by the purr, the cat likes it.

“What are you doing here?” Jon hisses. “Stop that!” He reaches.

Michael goes still, eyes on his, fingertips dimpling the Admiral’s fur.

Jon freezes, too. Closes his eyes, swallows. “Isn’t it enough you’re going to kill me? That’s not even my cat.”

“But it would hurt you to hurt it,” says Michael.

Oh, gods. “Please.”

Michael sighs. “I am not going to hurt your cat. There would be no point. While some of my ilk began with animal fear, and in fact, still enjoy it, I do not. Your cat’s fear would do nothing for me, and would only upset you. And I’d rather you be upset for… better reasons.”

Jon just stops himself from asking What reasons?

“I would like to talk,” it adds.

“Does talking involve my death?”

“Not tonight, Archivist.” And Michael pats the bed with its long, sharp fingers.

He doesn’t move.

It waits.

Jon shakes as he sits down, as close to the edge as he can manage without falling a second time. He stares at Michael. At Michael’s human face, expressionless except for the eyes.

Whatever looks at him through those eyes is too much, but it would be—the thing that became Michael is much.

How far back should I go? it had said.To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when, in some ways, you have always been?

The words of Michael’s statement linger in Jon’s mind, teasing. Tickling. “What do you… want to talk about?”

“Our partnership.” Michael says, and grins with far too many teeth.

It’s petting the cat again, and the Admiral clearly likes it. Legends about cats being fay creatures scroll through Jon’s head, but he ignores them. “Partnership? What are you talking about?”

“I have gone out of my way to save your life several times,” Michael points out.

“And then you promised to take it,” Jon snaps.

“Oh, I’m still going to do that,” says Michael cheerfully. “But stopping the Unknowing… as much as it pains me to admit, Archivist, that must come first. I think we can… benefit one another.”

“How? For what purpose? What do you get out of it?” (Why now? What changed? Is it going to kill me the moment we succeed? Is it tricking me to give me back to the Circus? Why would it do that? Why would it do this?)

Michael’s boneless shrug makes the room tilt. “The Unknowing is an emptiness of information, an inability to hold on to even the most basic of things you know. I am a great twisting, a wellspring of lies—but without knowledge to ponder and doubt, I have nothing to twist. I do not care for the world the Stranger brings.”

It makes sense. Jon swallows hard. “So our goals are… aligned?”

“For now. Though as you know, I have another.”

“Revenge against Gertrude.”

Too quick to dodge, Michael pokes its pointed fingertip below Jon’s left eye.

Jon inhales. Freezes. He doesn’t dare move.

“Yes,” says Michael, dragging the tip down, not cutting, not drawing blood, but leaving a strange, tingling sensation in its wake, as though the cells of Jon’s skin are dancing at its touch.

Jon’s shaking is worse. “But Gertrude is dead.”

“Yet I still want it. It is such a contradiction, Archivist! To want a thing that can never be, yet I am the one who makes others yearn for misremembered things. I dislike it. Your employer is here.”

“What?” Jon’s still trying to parse that sentence, trying to ignore the tingle in his skin.

“I visited him first, before I came to see you,” Michael says with great cheer. “I left him a note saying that I wanted to make a deal, and where I was. I suggest you let him in, or his knocking will wake your friend.”

Georgie. She has to get through this night unscathed, has to. I’ll make them chase me and lead them into the park, he thinks wildly, and scrambles for the door.

Elias is there, fist raised to knock, and the look on his face is terrible.

It’s heat like Jude Perry’s fire, weight like Hezekiah Wakeley’s graves, ear-rupturing depth like Fairchild’s sea.

And the moment they lock eyes, it’s gone.

“Jon,” says Elias, lowering his fist. “May I come in?”

Jon makes a sound that wouldn’t qualify in any language and steps aside.

Elias smells like night air, cold and biting, and he ignores Jon as he takes off his fitted coat. He’s carrying a book in one hand—nubbly red leather, with no visible author or title.

“You’re here,” says Jon.

Elias’ look is arid. “Surely the Spiral has not made you doubt your senses to that extent already.”

“No, I mean—” Jon glances at the book Elias is holding. It makes him uneasy. “You don’t… get involved. Other than murdering the elderly, anyway.”

“I am rarely granted such a personal invitation,” says Elias darkly, and shoves the coat at him.

“What did it do?” Jon whispers.

Elias sighs. “Nothing more than annoyances, designed to make one doubt. It shifted all my paintings slightly out of place. Swapped all my spices to the wrong bottles. Turned all my wine to vinegar, as though I had stored it wrong. Some of those bottles were quite old. I was saving them.”

Jon stares at him.

“The actual issue, Jon, is invasion of territory. Your new project has crossed a line.”

The coat is heavy. It smells good. It probably costs more than Georgie’s rent.

“And that book?” says Jon.

“Insurance,” says Elias, and marches for Jon’s borrowed room.

Michael still lies on the bed, but for the first time since the Circus’ grimy warehouse, it looks like the Michael Jon has come to know: grin too wide, fingers tracing patterns that, if followed, induce dizziness, and a body that drapes as if it has no bones.

Its hair is long, golden, and all ringlets, and they are everywhere. Including across Jon’s pillow.

He silently resolves to change the sheets before going back to bed tonight. Assuming he’s alive.

“Well, that is a face I haven’t seen in some time,” says Elias. “What an unexpected surprise, ah—Michael, is it?”

Jon’s heart goes to ice.

He hadn’t told Elias who Michael used to be, who it ate, whose face it wears.

Who it was lashed to.

(Did Elias know him? Did he care? Was he afraid of being sacrificed the same way before his promotion?)

And of course, all the questions about Elias that always linger—

(How did he go from a mediocre pothead to head of the Institute? Why did James Wright pick him? Was Elias ever in danger?)

“He’s threatening to bind me, Archivist,” says Michael, gesturing toward the book. “As if that would make me un-become.”

“I am hardly averse to immediate solutions,” Elias warns, holding the book calmly by his side. “Especially when territory has been trespassed upon.”

Michael giggles, a sound so sharp that Jon has to close his eyes.

Jon wishes he could turn his head off. (Unbecome? Doesn’t it require a map? Is the book a map? Is the book a Leitner? Does Elias have to read it out loud? Is it memorized? Is it like Ex Altiora? What will happen if Elias uses it? Can he do it in time before Michael attacks?)

“Don’t, Elias,” Jon says, and doesn’t know why he says it.

Elias ignores him.

Michael tilts its head (too far, too far), and sighs. “I’ve been trying to decide. Is your Archivist endearing or aggravating? Not that your opinion would change matters, of course.”

“Both, on occasion.”

“I am not,” Jon starts, and is ignored.

“I have come, as requested. And you have yet to make this worth my time,” says Elias in a tone that promises murder, that shoots fear through Jon’s entire system.

Michael laughs.

Jon grips his head, straining to stay on his feet.

Elias stands unruffled. “I’m afraid that is not an acceptable response.”

“I wish to make a deal,” it says. “One which may benefit us both.”

“I am running out of patience.” And Elias has raised the book to waist-height, and Jon doesn’t want to see what it does, doesn’t want to see what happens, doesn’t want to see Michael swooped away in it or obliterated into a thousand pieces or deposited in ice.

He won’t just grab the book, of course. He’s not stupid. “Elias, listen to it, will you?”

Elias looks at him slowly. “Why?”

Jon had only meant it could help with the Unknowing—until Elias said that, and now that he has, Jon decides it’s because Elias doesn’t want to do it. “It may be able to help us. We need help.”

That is a withering look. “I think you should return to work tomorrow, after all, since you’re clearly well enough to do so. You and I will be having a long conversation when you do.” Elias turns back to the monster.

Michael looks fascinated.

“Explain,” says Elias. “This is your final chance.”

“I bring a gift,” says Michael, making patterns in the air that leave hypnotic afterimages.

“A gift?” says Elias.

“Yes, for your Archivist: sleep without his terrible dreams.”

“What?” says Jon.

“That is out of the question,” says Elias.

“Oh, not the chosen dreams of It Knows You,” says Michael. “I have no interest in those, and they strengthen your Archivist—and we both know he needs to be much, much strengthened.” It laughs. “No, I meant… his own.”

Elias looks at Jon.

Jon isn’t sure why he feels cornered. They’re hardly ganging up. “What?”

“Your dreams should not be your own,” says Elias simply. “How long has this been going on?”

Elias knew his dreams were all about other people.

Watching them suffer, watching their statements play out over and over, unable to close his eyes or look away or even apologize when they see him and curse him and beg for help.

“You knew?” snaps Jon. “You knew I was trapped just… staring at people as they suffer their trauma over and over again?”

“Don’t change the subject,” says Elias.

Jon wonders if he could get away with biting him before Elias does whatever that book can do.

“How long, Jon?”

“Tonight. Since the Circus.”

“Hm.” Elias looks back. “Thank you, but we can handle this on our own.”

“I disagree,” says Michael.

“We?” Jon bristles.

“I can help you myself,” says Elias. “This is unnecessary.”

“You have left me to drown and burn and flail in the wind this entire time, and only now that someone else offers a hand, you’re interested?” Jon snarls.

“Shhh,” says Elias. “Ms. Barker is sleeping.” That look. Oh, that look; pointed, eager, expectant. Waiting for Jon to fuck this up like everything else.

Jon hisses through clenched teeth. “Maybe I want its help instead.”

“Jon.”

“It’s saved my life twice.” And promised to take it, but that won’t help his case.

“Jon.”

“It’s done more for me than you have!”

Elias looks like he’s the one considering biting now.

Jon decides to ignore him. “You mean the dream you woke me from,” he says to Michael. “What the Circus did to me.”

“I do.” Michael’s form swirls, and is apparently no longer comfortable for cats. The Admiral drops to the floor with a tiny, four-point thump and trots out the open door.

Jon is relieved. That’s one innocent out of the way. “What would you do to me, then?”

Michael laughs.

Jon sways with it. Vaguely, he’s aware Elias steadies him. (Why? Is he in danger of killing himself on the desk corner? Why would Elias care now, what prompted actual hands-on activity, what happens if he says yes, what happens if he says no—)

“I will make your pointless nightmares seem unreal,” it says. “Your memory will be safe—useless though it is. But when you dream it, when you enter the nightmares, you’ll doubt them. You’ll know that they are… false.”

“But it wasn’t false,” says Jon, quietly. “It happened. It all happened.”

Michael surges up, human form vanishing, and sweeps over to them on impossible limbs and static.

Jon staggers back into the wall with a thump.

Elias stands there, looking directly up at it—but it isn’t looking at him.

It’s looking at Jon.

“You will know that you are not there, Archivist,” it says, looking not even remotely human, its voice coming from inside Jon’s head and underneath his feet and somewhere out in the hall and maybe from Mars. “Your mind—your human mind—lies to you when you sleep. Like me. But you are powerful. If I let you see your dream is untrue, you can pull away and go back to your own little… night job.”

“Jon,” warns Elias. “This is out of the question.”

“They’re not your nightmares,” Jon snaps back. “What happened to, ‘I can’t hold your hand through this’?"

“I won’t harm his mind,” says Michael with something approaching patience. “That would be handing him over to the Stranger, gift-wrapped. Besides—my help will show you I am serious about my offer.”

“Which is what, exactly?” snaps Elias, craning his neck to look up at it.

“I would provide a door,” Michael says.

And Elias pauses.

Jon sees it. He sees it, and locks it away, because he’s sure Elias will deny it later.

“It would hardly be the first time such an alliance has happened,” says Michael. “I seem to recall the Web and the Slaughter working together before, the Lonely and the Web working together, and of course, your own association with the Vast, and the Lonely, and the—”

“What? Since when?” says Jon.

“I would rather keep the Web out of all of this, if possible,” murmurs Elias.

“It’s not.” Michael doesn’t smile when it says those words. Then it drops the inhumanity, swans to the bed, and drapes there, sideways and spineless so it can look at them upside down from the edge. “This is very tiring. No wonder you’re all so mortal. You must burn out, like candles.”

Jon opens his mouth.

Before he can answer, Elias grips his chin, holds him still, studies his eyes.

The bruises hurt. His eyes water. He knows that doesn’t stop this forced perusal.

He has no idea what Elias is looking for. The truth? That he’s desperate, afraid, determined?

And angry. Jon doesn’t mind if Elias knows that. I’m doing it. Don’t try to stop me.

Elias sighs. Then he changes tack. “Jon,” he says, in such an insinuating tone that not even Jon could miss it, “did you invite this thing into your bed?”

And Jon knows it’s a joke, recognizes the glint in Elias’ eyes when he thinks he’s being funny, but cannot help the heat in his face, his chest swelling like an irate frog’s. He wrenches back. “Elias!”

Elias turns back. “He is determined to accept your offer. But you know what this is, yes?” He holds up the book.

“Oh, yes,” says Michael cheerily. “Inasmuch as I know what anything is, when I pay attention.”

“I cannot protect him from his own stupidity,” Elias says, “but I can hurt you. Yes?”

“Yes,” Michael says.

“So we are clear. A truce, for now—with Jon’s extremely stupid choices included—until the Unknowing is done.”

“Yes!” says Michael.

“It’s not your decision!” snaps Jon.

“Hello?�� comes from the other side of the wall.

For one second of pure insanity, Jon wonders if he could scruff them both like cats and hurl them from the apartment. He makes violent faces at them. “Sorry, Georgie! Just me.”

A pause. “Did you get another phone?”

“No, I’m… sorry. Bad dreams. Go back to sleep. Work in the morning.”

Silence.

Jon feels sick, lying to her.

Michael hangs there, fingers like dark electric current, weaving patterns in the air.

Elias, on the other hand, is exuding… disappointment. “This was unwise, Jon.”

“I don’t care.”

“One night of bad dreams, and you’re giving permission for a creature of madness to make camp in your head.”

And Jon finally meets his eyes. “Are you going to shoot me over it?”

Elias looks weary, as though Jon’s defiance has drained him. “I wonder, Jon, if you’re not trying to die, as if it would in any way make up for your mistakes.”

He didn’t mention Sasha this time. He didn’t have to.

Jon says nothing.

He’s not trying to die.

That doesn’t mean he deserves good things.

Michael laughs. “Let him sleep. Let him wander his victims’ dreams to his heart’s content—or your master’s, anyway. Then see for yourself if I have damaged your prize.”

“And if I find you have marred him?”

“Then bind me… if you can,” says Michael, a threat, a promise, a lure, a temptation, a warning.

Jon shivers.

“Believe me, I will,” Elias says, and Jon is deeply grateful that was not directed at him.

Michael laughs like Elias made a joke.

Elias’ sigh is long. He looks at Jon.

Jon swallows. Tries to stand taller. Is trembling. Hates it.

“Walk me out,” Elias says.

Jon realizes he’s been clutching the coat like a security blanket, and hands it back.

“Make no mistake,” Elias says quietly as he dons it. “I have no plans to kill you. I value you, Jon. I know of no one who could replace you—and there have been offers.”

“There’ve been what?” says Jon.

“But this is beneath you. This thing is an irritant. It is an insect, looking for blood. I’d thought higher of your reasoning than this.”

It shouldn’t hurt. It does.

But Jon’s jaw hurts, too, where it bruised. “How very disappointing for you.”

“A cease-fire is not an alliance.” Elias pins him, unblinking. “And I meant it—at work tomorrow, bright and early.”

“I can’t. I have to find a new apartment,” Jon says.

“Do it after hours. Goodnight.” And with that (and a more dramatic sweep than necessary), he leaves.

He doesn’t even slam the door.

Jon locks it. And though it feels like walking through cement, returns to the room.

“You agreed fairly quickly, Archivist,” says Michael. “Thank you. I thought I’d have to work harder to convince you. All this reasoning is just awful.”

“I may have done it more at him than anything else,” Jon admits and doesn’t know why he does.

A head-swimming giggle. “Buyer’s remorse?”

“If that’s what you call it after you’ve already pulled the trigger in Russian roulette. I… never mind.”

“Really, Archivist, the things you say!” Michael’s laugh is muffled, for which Jon is grateful. And it pats the bed again, for which he is not.

“I have to…” He flees.

The Admiral, having decided it’s time to eat, no matter that it’s two in the morning, sits by his food bowl in the kitchen and purrs.

“I already fed you, you heathen,” says Jon, but gives him a small portion, anyway.

He spends a minute out there, petting the cat, trying to calm his heart rate.

This was a bad idea. All of this was a bad idea.

“Well, I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t having bad ideas, would I?” he mutters. “Gertrude, I hope you’re happy.”

Gertrude, he has a feeling, would have sacrificed him to something years ago, if only to make the foolishness stop.

Michael is occupying half the bed when he returns.

Jon makes an unhappy sound. “Do you have to do it like that? In the bed? Can’t you just… hover, or something?”

“Sleep is intimate, Archivist, and the work I intend delicate. You are quite powerful. Without my weight behind you, my warmth and my presence, doubtless you would reject my subtle influence to your dreams, leaving you still to suffer.”

“Powerful,” Jon mutters. “Right. Look at me, with all this power.”

Michael just smiles, which is somehow worse than laughing. “I do not plan to change you, Archivist. Not yet.”

Michael lies. The Distortion lies. That’s what it does.

Yet it doesn’t feel like it’s lying now.

It takes every ounce of courage Jon has to go lie down again. “Don’t touch me. And please don’t be here in the morning. I don’t want Georgie to know.”

“Whatever you say, Archivist,” Michael thrums at him in a voice he can feel everywhere, like the tingling from his cheek spread down.

He cannot, he thinks, possibly sleep like this. Aware of it back there, staring at him.

He forgot to change the pillowcase, too.

But exhaustion carries its own balm for moments such as these, and Jon drifts away.

This time, when Nikola shows up with her paring knife already dripping his blood, Michael is behind her, pointing at her ringmaster’s getup and laughing.

Jon laughs, too.

And leaves his own nightmare behind.

(part three)

#tma fic #tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives is a podcast #the magnus archives fanfic #the magnus archives fic #jonmichael #jonelias #long fic #and eat it too

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more-than-a-princess · 2 years

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@madamhatter asked: What are things that Post-Despair Sonia cannot do that she originally loved doing? Is it more of a conscious or unconscious thing depending on what they are?

Unprompted HC asks - Accepting from mutuals!

Oh...the Sonia verse with the greatest amount of angst. 😥

I’m going to put this under a cut purely for spoilers. I know I have mutuals who have not played/watched an LP of Danganronpa, and I’m going to speak candidly about a lot of the plot spoilers for the entire series (in threads, I tend to have Sonia speak or think about about the Big Reveals/Secrets, especially of the first two games and the prequel/sequel anime, in a more abstract and less direct way. She’s got a lot of trauma and guilt to work though). So here’s the disclaimer:

If you have not played Danganronpa in its entirety and plan to play it yourself or watch an LP, do not read what’s under the cut. You will be spoiled for Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (this is the game Sonia is mostly in), and the Danganronpa 3 anime.

With that acknowledged, let’s dive in (to tears. And sadness. And a lot of regrets):

Post-Despair Sonia, even if she can’t really see it, actually came out of The Tragedy and the Neo-World Program pretty well. Here’s why:

1. Out of all the former Remnants of Despair, Sonia spent the least amount of time in a coma before she retained the memories she’d lost. As a survivor of the killing game, she, like Kazuichi, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Hajime, did not have the additional mental trauma of being a murderer or a victim in the simulation (just, y’know, all those other murders they carried out). Additionally, as they were the first to wake up, their muscles spent the least amount of time atrophying, and Sonia’s general levels of fitness pre-coma were already quite good. She may not have any artistic, culinary, or other domestic skills, but she’s a decent athlete and, even as a Remnant, remained relatively fit.

2. Unlike some of her fellow Remnants, Sonia did not physically mutilate herself as severely as some of the others. Nagito, for example, has to figure out how to use a mechanical arm after waking up and Fuyuhiko lost an eyeball (aka. gouged out one of his own and replaced it with another) after they ravaged Junko’s corpse after the events of DR1/THH and attached part of her to their own bodies (and let’s not forget about Mikan...). What she did take and attach will continue to torment her, but it doesn’t necessarily impede her day-to-day functions.

That being said, here’s some of the ways Post-Despair Sonia had to change because she could either no longer do things or enjoy things after The Tragedy and the Simulation:

- First and foremost: she doesn’t enjoy horror movies as much and especially doesn’t enjoy serial killers. Those slasher movies she used to love? They give her nightmares now because she had to live it. In the simulation she ended up, so to speak, as a final girl. But in real life? She’s the killer, or one of them, whom the entire world has mostly turned their backs on after what they’ve done. Sonia in a pre-despair or non-despair verse has an interest in horror, the occult, and serial killers but it is just a fascination and a hobby to her: she never had any intention of killing anyone (though she’d be excited to meet a ghost/demon/witch/vampire...even if she hasn’t considered every possible outcome!).

Those movies, TV shows, and books just reinforce her nightmares in Post-Despair. That is, if the news coverage isn’t a constant reminder of her crimes already. In the simulation, the Future Foundation was able to protect the Remnants from who they were and what they’d done but once Sonia wakes up? She can’t escape reliving much of her atrocities. As a Remnant, she was eager to be recorded causing mass destruction, whether by her own hands or by her orders, and out of everyone Sonia has the most recorded footage, in photographs or on video, of her murders. And the world isn’t ready to forgive her, especially a good portion of her own, barely-there country: but the Future Foundation needs her there to be able to help put it back together. They managed to save much of the Royal Family’s fortune from Remnant Sonia getting access to those resources, and she’s one of the few left with leadership skills and a keen understanding of how her country once worked (and the steps they could take to rebuild).

tl;dr - Novoselic needs her, the Future Foundation needs her, but not everyone wants her and the more they can traumatize her and show her, time and time again, how awful she was and how inefficient her leadership will now be, the better for the anti-royalists who wish to form Novoselic’s first parliament.

She’s trying to figure out in Post-Despair what her interests even are anymore. With a lot of time spent alone, she tries to read and watch movies from before The Tragedy, but it all feels...empty, to her. It’s rare for her to get enjoyment out of any of it without some help: therapy, a friend, etc. Mostly she just feels like a shell, a figurehead, and nothing more.

- She doesn’t have access to, much less enjoys, the same athletic pursuits she used to do easily. Both her country and the Future Foundation do not trust Sonia with firearms, so shooting (even clay targets, just for fun) is out of the question. This is why in the Post-Despair verse I have with Sin, when Shirou gives Sonia a gun to help him fight off the giant robot Monokumas and she hesitates, she’s got a good reason (besides the gunshot wound to her shoulder: thanks Shirou!): she hasn’t been allowed to use one since The Tragedy. Horseback riding is seen as a frivolous past-time, and most animals haven’t been kept on Novoselic Castle premises since The Tragedy: post-Despair, there’s a far bigger focus on launching an emergency Makango breeding program, as Despair!Sonia set out to destroy much of her nation’s unique flora and fauna to spread even more Despair. And forget dancing: formal balls and parties for the aristocratic elite are, mostly, a thing of the past. And no one wants to dance with someone who wanted to cause the end of the world to begin with.

- The sorts of duties she enjoyed as a princess she’s now barred from as queen, mostly as a safety measure but also an extreme dislike of the Royal Family by nearly half of Novosonians. Sonia used to enjoy being very hands-on with greeting her people and learning about their lives and needs, especially those seen as less fortunate and those who will shape her nation’s future (aka. children). Now, many do not trust her around the nation’s most vulnerable populations: they want her to donate finances and resources, but never visit the clinics or rebuilt hospitals (or orphanages, or schools, or job/community centers). If Sonia is to be in power as Queen, the majority of the country believes she should be a monarch in name only and, essentially, an open wallet. Sonia gets a life of meetings, of debates, of discussions, and a lot of office work: she doesn’t really get to see what progress and good her work brings, out of both the safety of her people and the anger that many of them still hold towards her. She’s mostly a prisoner in her own castle.

- She has trouble smiling and showing affection easily. She used to be an overly cheerful, optimistic, and giving person, whether it was a warm hug or words of support. Post-Despair, Makoto’s persistent view of hope is actually grating on Sonia. She’s lost that optimism she once had and physical touch? She can’t help but be reminded of the destruction her hands, and her lips for that matter, have caused. If she wasn’t ordering people dead or killing them with her own two hands (or a gun, or a bomb, or all the other various torture devices kept in the underground tunnels of Novoselic Castle: that place still smells like blood in Post-Despair), she was seducing them with all sorts of false promises, including her warped idea of love. She has a lot of trouble moving past how much she’s hurt people, in pretty much every way one can imagine (especially if you’re Kazuichi Souda. One of my headcanons is that he’s afraid of Sonia once they remember what they did as Remnants: she abused him horribly).

Not that she’s in a great position to love and be loved as it is. Mental health and immense guilt and trauma aside, Sonia has little confidence in her appearance and that she’s worthy of being loved. Whether you believe in the DR3 anime’s explanation of Junko brainwashing all of Class 77-B or not, I do believe Junko was a master manipulator. And even if she didn’t brainwash them, she got close enough to each of the Remnants to learn about what their weaknesses and struggles were. And one of Sonia’s was always going to be focused around her mother, and to a degree her country as a whole, that she was never as perfect as they needed her to be. Whether it was because she was born a princess instead of a prince (hint: see my next headcanon post about this specific bit), that she had inappropriate hobbies and interests for a royal, or that critics deemed her physique to be lacking (her mother disparaged over the size of her hips/rear/thighs for most of her preteen and teenage life. Sonia can’t help she’s naturally pear-shaped!), Sonia had been nitpicked, criticized, and refined as much as possible for her entire life and it still wasn’t enough. From her mother and many others, Sonia would be ignored, seen as nothing who would bear little consequence on the history of her country, if she was not beautiful. If they had to have a crown princess, she at least needed to remain beautiful.

And once Sonia told that to Junko, Junko took that and metaphorically ran with it: that her beauty, and only her beauty, would make the Princess of Novoselic a force to be reckoned with and she should use it to manipulate anyone and everyone who dared stand in her way on her path to Despair. And while she did intend to spur Sonia on with it, it was also the stark reminder that her beauty was everything and that if she was found to be physically revolting, that would be the end of the Novoselic Royal Family as no one would dare procreate with her (to be fair to Junko, Sonia’s mother all but outright said such a thing first).

So when Junko died, her words still echoed in Remnant!Sonia’s mind: always remain beautiful. So she took what she saw of Junko’s beauty and ensured that anyone she chose to mate with would see it: she took Junko’s skin and had it sewn over her lower abdomen. In her eyes, she took the best part of her leader: she’d continue to carry out her wishes because, with Junko’s own beauty attached to her, there was no possibility that anyone could find her hideous and she’d fulfill every bit of her family’s wishes to keep the Royal Family going (by raising little Remnants! Horrible thought, no?).

This became a problem once Sonia was awakened from the Neo World Program: what Despair!Sonia thought was so beautiful, Post-Despair!Sonia now has to deal with her lower belly and upper thighs now entirely covered in hideous scars from sloppily-administered skin grafts. For someone whose value was largely attributed to her looks (whether Sonia liked it or not, there’s some truth in that), now having to see a constant reminder of her sins greatly impacts her ability to form a healthy self-esteem and relationships. She won’t wear anything too short, and definitely not anything that shows her midsection (the wet suit is now a requirement for swimming, for example: she’s too aggrieved by her reflection in anything else). The Junko in Sonia’s head, or at least the voice she couldn’t get rid of and still can’t in Post-Despair, made it all but impossible for her to engage in any real intimacy with someone else. She can’t look at herself in the mirror naked or in her underwear, much less allow anyone else to see her. She believes herself to be a monster, from both her past deeds and her current appearance. When properly clothed she looks mostly unaffected (physically anyway), but any sort of intimacy she used to love? That’s gone, at least without a lot of plot development.

Mostly she’s conscious of most of this, but the hatred of horror and serial killers and her difficulty with intimacy and self-love were a surprise to her. She’s mostly unconscious of them until they surface and then she can’t ignore them.

#more-than-a-princess answered #more-than-a-princess headcanons #madamhatter #(I thought this was going to be the shorter of the two HC posts you sent. Now I'm just -shrug-)#(Enjoy the an.gst!)

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24hlevi · 2 years

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Insomnia

Jinx (Arcane/LOL) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Jinx has nightmares quite often, that's why you're there to help ease her back to sleep, until the day you weren't.

Warnings: Language, Spoilers for ep 7+

Word Count: 3.5k

happy new year everyone here's some angst

reposting this since it wasn't showing up in tags

It wasn't rare for Jinx to awaken in the middle of the night due to nightmares that would constantly come and go every time she went to sleep. The memories of what she did to her family left quite the mark on the girl, and it was clear that those past events are what haunted her the most. Sometimes she would wake up with tears on her face and she wouldn't even realize them until she touches her cheek and feels the tear falling down it.

Before you came into her life, Jinx had no one to rely on or run to when these nightmares happened, and she would have to cope with it by herself which was incredibly hard for the girl. This is why she is so deeply grateful to have you with her for nights like these.

Jinx woke up with a startled gasp, her body shooting up into a sitting position as she looked around, trying to figure out if she was awake and back in the real world again. She soon enough realized she indeed, was back in the real world as she looked to her side to see you sleeping peacefully, making her frown at how easy it was for you to fall and stay asleep for as long as needed without nightmares waking you up and scaring yourself from going back to sleep.

“Y/n.” Jinx whispered to you.

When you didn't respond nor move, the blue-haired girl sighed and leaned closer to you and poked you, “Y/n.” she spoke a bit louder now.

You stirred around before groggily opening your eyes and seeing Jinx sitting up staring down at you.”Jinx? What's wrong?” You asked her tiredly.

She didn't answer you, but when you opened your eyes fully you could see the tear marks on her face and how her whole frame was shaking. You opened your arms out for her to crawl into as you gave her a small smile, “Come here.”

Jinx laid back down and crawled into your embrace, feeling your arms wrap around her making a warm feeling go through her entire body. Your legs tangled with hers as you looked down at her before quietly asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was just the usual,” Jinx answered in the same voice level. She had explained to you before the causes of her nightmares and what she did, which is why she wasn't bothered with talking to you about it, even if it was only a few words before she needed to be distracted by something else to forget about it.

You kissed her head and rubbed her back gently as you spoke again, “It's okay, remember that you're safe here. I’ll always keep you safe.”

There were a few moments of silence until Jinx nuzzled her face into her neck, mumbling out incoherent words.

“What?” You asked, not being able to hear what she had said.

“Can you promise me something?” She whispered barely loud enough for you to understand.

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion but you answered with, “Of course.”

“Promise me that you won't leave me, please.” She was so quiet that you could hardly hear it but you did, and it made you feel terrible.

“I promise I’ll never leave you, not for anyone or anything. I love you so much, and nothing will ever change that, I’m sure of it. Nothing bad will happen to you, I swear.” You told her.

You could feel her tighten her arms around you as if you were going to leave her and wet droplets hit your neck. You soon realized that Jinx was crying and you held her closer to the point where the two of you were completely touching as you whispered quietly to her, “It's okay, please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry, I’m sorry.”

Jinx pulled her face away from her neck and looked up at you with teary eyes, making you use your thumb to wipe away the fallen tears that were running down her face. “I love you.” She said to you before leaning in and slowly pressing her lips against yours.

When she pulled away a split second later, you smiled at her and kissed her forehead, “I love you too. Now can we please go back to sleep? We still have to get up early tomorrow.” You released a light chuckle at the end.

“Yeah.” Jinx nodded, smiling back at you and then going back into her previous position where your arms wrapped around to hold her as she could feel herself finally relax after not being able to for so long. She could only fully relax when she was alone with you, with no one else to come and bother her or interrupt with no care. You were her safe haven, a person to go to when she was struggling and had no one else to go to, someone who truly cared about her well-being and didn't care about what she did or has done previously in her life, someone who loved her.

Jinx would always be so grateful to have you in her life, and she doesn't know how badly she would end up if you were taken away from her. But you both know that it would be bad enough to cause many people's lives to be lost because you were the most important thing to her, no one else topped you or beat you in whom she loved and cared for. It was always you, and that would never change. Not until the day that you two would be separated eventually, and who knows how long that might take. It might be tomorrow or many years away. But that didn't matter. Because Jinx made sure to cherish every moment that she had with you because she of all people would know how bad it feels to be abandoned, lost, and alone with no one to depend on.

That's why Jinx always made sure to be with you no

matter what, even if it could get her killed in the end.

That was until her worst possible fear came true.

Losing you.

You knew that when Vi reappeared, it was going to cause a lot of problems when Jinx would eventually find out. That's why you made sure to never let your girlfriend out of your vision, because you never knew when or how she would find out that her sister was actually alive after all these years and that Silco never told her even though he, too, didn't know.

Silco had told you that Vi, Jinx’s sister, was alive as soon as he found out and he explained how bad this could end if Jinx found out. Obviously, you didn't really understand what happened because you weren't there, and maybe that’s the reason you got killed in the end.

…

Everything was going well, for the most part at least. Jinx still didn’t know that her sister was alive, and the only people who did know were you, Silco, and Sevika. Silco had advised you to not tell Jinx anything about it, so you didn’t, but you were starting to think that you should with what was going on currently.

You knocked on the door of Silco’s office before making your way inside to only see no one inside, making you tilt your head in confusion as you walked in further and to his desk. You were incredibly confused to put it simply, there was usually always someone in Silco’s office whether it be him or Sevika, which was why it was awfully weird that there was no sign of either of them. Not to mention that you had lost Jinx and had no clue where she was, which made you think only the worst possible things that were capable of happening.

You heard a light groan above you, and you froze in your spot before looking up and seeing Sevika tied up with the familiar colors and drawings written across her fake arm and you quickly noticed the biggest word written.

“Liar.”

Oh no. You knew what this meant, it meant the only thing that could be possible at this current moment.

Jinx knew Vi was alive.

…

You were running in the undercity for who knows how long, you sure as hell didn’t, not when you were too caught up on thinking about where Silco and Jinx were and if either of them were okay or injured at all. You were extremely worried now that you had figured out that Jinx knew her sister that had abandoned her many years ago was actually still alive and well. After the countless nights that your girlfriend had woken up in the middle of the night due to nightmares about everything that happened, you knew how bad it could end if she came face to face with the one person who turned her into Jinx.

You continued to run until you saw a bright blue light from a high place and you stopped abruptly. You tried to see if it was Jinx, but you were too far away to tell, so what did you do? Start running towards the light in hopes that it was Jinx.

By the time you arrived, the smoke was gone and you could hear voices.

“It’s Jinx now, Powder fell down a well.”

You heard Jinx’s voice and quickly made it up the stairs to see Jinx with her minigun in hand and two girls in front of her, one looking like a topsider and the other having pink hair. Your eyes widened when you realized what was going on as you pulled out your pistol and aimed it at the topsider you assumed was the enforcer Jinx’s sister was with, “Don’t move.” You told her.

The pink-haired girl and Jinx both looked over at you when you spoke and you could see a tattoo that read “VI” in roman numerals, now you knew it was definitely the Vi that Jnix was talking about.

“You must be Vi, I’ve heard so much about you.” You spoke to her with no emotion in your voice present, “You’re the one that was always there, but never really was because you abandoned Jinx. I see, so you’ve come back for what then? To patch up the rough spots? Or is it for the gemstone perhaps?”

“Who the hell are you?” Vi spat at you.

You put your free hand over your heart in fake pain as if you were offended and you scoffed, “How rude, you do realize I have a gun pointed at your pretty friend, right? So I suggest you be nice. I’m Y/n, Jinx’s partner. And I know everything about you, so don’t play games with me.”

Vi looked from you back to Jinx who still had the gun pointed at her before sighing, “Look, can you just pun the guns down so we can talk?”

“Talk? Or just so your enforcer friend can put us in prison?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“To talk, just talk,” Vi answered.

You scoffed again, shaking your head before lowering the gun from the enforcer’s head and walking to Jinx, whispering to her, “We should go.”

Jinx nodded slowly, lowering the minigun and looking up at you, “Should I do it?” She whispered back to you.

You knew what she was asking about, whenever she asked you this in a whisper while looking at you with those damn eyes that could kill it was always about whether or not to kill someone, and it made you sigh every time. “No, Silco and Sevika will take care of it.”

“Fine.” Jinx sighed, not knowing what to do or even say anymore.

You looked back at the other two girls and put your pistol back in its holster, clapping your hands together before speaking, “Well, it was great to meet you Vi. Hopefully the next time we can see who’s really stronger, and see if you’re really worth listening to after what you did to Jinx.”

“Her name is Powder.” Vi cut you off.

“Tsh, I should shoot you just for saying that. But for the sake of JINX, I won’t. Now if I ever see you or your enforcer friend again, I will kill you both.” You told the two in a harsh tone before turning around and reaching out for Jinx’s hand. “Let’s go, we have more important matters to get to.”

Jinx nodded, taking your hand and you two began to walk back down the stairs and past her sister, making sure you gave a glare before making your way back to The Last Drop.

…

You hated running, it didn’t matter what the cause was, you just hated it. Especially when you could only go in one direction like the bridge that connected Piltover from the undercity. Why were you running along that bridge exactly? Well, you had found out that Jinx had gone after Vi to try and find her, and the last place you could think that she would be was on the bridge if they had the gemstone and were trying to get it back to Piltover, which easily meant a fight could start at any minute.

As you were running, you heard a gunshot and started running faster, yelling out Jinx’s name which made her look at you from her high spot on the bridge and make her realize what could happen, but she pushed those thoughts away as she hopped down and made her way down the bridge, trailing behind you without you even realizing.

By the time you reached the bright spotlights, you saw a group of enforcers and the one female enforcer that was with Jinx’s sister and immediately raised your hands up when a gun was pointed at you. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit. What am I supposed to do now?’ You thought to yourself as you saw Vi running towards everyone with green specs that were actually insects following behind her, making your eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

One of the insects stopped right in front of you, and you could hear the ticking that you soon realized what it was when you saw the pink and blue colors have drawn onto it. “Oh shit.” You let out before it exploded right in front of your face, knocking you out and hitting the ground with a loud thud.

You opened your eyes only to see dust, blood, and shrapnel everywhere along with dead bodies, resulting in your eyes widening. You tried to get up but screamed out in pain when trying to do so, and you looked down to see multiple pieces of the bomb and probably other bombs inside of your torso and stomach. You then laid your head back down on the ground when you heard humming, making you turn it to see the familiar blue hair that was braided down by Jinx’s feet.

“Jinx?” You said, immediately coughing up a clot of blood afterward.

Jinx’s eyes widened when she heard your voice and she quickly ran towards you and kneeled down beside you, “Y/n? W-What are you doing here? You’re not- You’re not supposed to be here.” She stuttered out, looking down at your bloodied clothes and face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it I- I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m so sorry please- I didn’t know you were here, I’m sorry.”

“Just wanted…to save you.” You said through short breaths. You looked up at her to see tears welling up in her eyes, and you lifted your hand and held the side of her face, caressing her cheek with your thumb. “Please don’t cry, I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay.”

“No, I can help you, We just have to find Silco, okay? It’s gonna be okay. I swear.” Jinx told you past small hiccups in her voice due to trying to hold back her tears. She wrapped her arms around you and hoisted you onto her back, “Hold on, okay?”

You could hardly hear anything with the ringing from the explosion still present in your ears and your eyesight was starting to turn black as your head rested on your girlfriend’s back, “Put me down, Jinx. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! We have to try! Please, we can get there in time, I know it We just-”

“Jinx!” You yelled, cutting her off as you turned her head to look at you. “It’s okay.” You smiled at her with all your strength left. “I’ll always be here with you, don’t worry. It’s not your fault, it was mine. I thought I could help but, I didn’t think about the consequences and what could happen and I’m sorry about that. For doing this. But you have to know that I will always love you, no matter what. Nothing you do will ever change that. I promise. Now go finish what you started, my love. For I will be watching you the whole time, even if I’m not present with you.”

The tears that were threatening to fall from Jinx’s eyes soon started flowing like a downpour of rain, the skies darkening and everything feeling grim and gloomy, with no sign of happiness for however long the rain would last. The girl carefully took you off her back and leaned you up against the railing of the bridge before sitting down beside you, interlacing her fingers with your bloodied ones, the ones that she had caused, all because of her selfish actions. She could hardly even believe that this was happening or if it was even real, but deep behind her thoughts and the voices talking to her, she knew it was real and indeed was happening, it wasn’t a dream anymore. It was reality. Her worst dream was coming true, and it was all her fault, just like last time. All because she was a jinx, and she finally realized now that there was no going back, and that she truly could never change, no matter how hard anyone, no matter how hard you tried, she would never be able to change the way she is, that’s just how it was. “I’ll finish it, I promise. I’ll complete the weapon and no one will ever screw with us anymore, I just wish…that this didn’t happen.”

You looked down at the girl sitting beside you and felt so much guilt and sorrow at how much effect it was causing on Jinx, and truthfully, you thought it was your fault. If only you knew the consequences, if only you knew how bad this war was between the two sisters that would cause many more casualties along the lines, but it’s for the greater good, right? You wished that your death wouldn’t be in vain and that nothing would happen or change because of it, but you knew that Jinx wouldn’t allow that. She would never let your death change nothing, would it make her even worse and traumatized than she already is? Most definitely. But it also meant that things would change, it meant that she herself would change as well. She didn’t know it yet, but it was known to occur to Silco. “It’s okay, Just remember that I am always on your side and that Silco is too. He would never give you up for anything. Because you’re perfect, and I love-”

Jinx began to cry more when you didn’t finish what you were saying, how your hand fell limp in hers and how your eyes stopped moving entirely, showing no sign of life in them whatsoever. She cupped your face and leaned her forehead on yours, “I love you too.” She whispered to your now deceased body.

After a few more minutes of silently crying, the tears stopped, and Jinx’s face now had no emotion in it as she stood up and picked up your body and turned around to see Vi and Caitlyn, staring at the blue-haired girl with wide eyes. But Jinx didn’t do anything, instead, she turned her back on the girls and started to walk back to the undercity with you in her arms, now gone forever.

…

Jinx woke up from her sleep with a loud gasp, breathing heavily and sweat dripping down her body. “Y/n?” She turned to look at the other side of the bed, only to see you weren’t there. “Oh…that’s right.” She said to herself quietly. She laid herself back down and stared at the empty space in her bed like she did every night since you died. Because no matter how hard she tried, every day was a struggle to keep it together and not snap at everyone she sees, and for a while she was stuck in a depressive state because of it. Where she wouldn’t have the energy to even get out of bed and Sevika would have to drag her out of it forcibly when she stayed in there for the whole day. Where she wouldn’t cry, but you could see it in the way she acted and in her eyes how truly heartbroken she was now that you were gone and weren’t coming back. But eventually, she bounced back.

And became the worst thing anyone’s seen from her.

#arcane #lol #arcane x reader #lol x reader #arcane imagines #lol imagine #arcane scenarios #lol scenarios #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx imagine #jinx scenarios #jinx lol #lol jinx

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wattpadscapcons · 3 years

Note

Say Guzma has a female S/O who has been abused in the past by her ex, who controlled her every movement and thought he owned her. How does Guzma comfort her and makes her feel safe and happy around himself?

Oh jeez, this is rather some dark subject matter.... Also welcome to my blog! Always nice to have another Pokémon fan stop by. Guzma going through his own level of trauma, it's just a bad situation, but I'm sure he'd do his best.

All Because Of Them (Guzma x Reader)

Let's be honest, Guzma isn't the best at comforting others. He's even had trouble keeping his own Pokémon from getting upset. It's all stemmed from how he was raised, but he's been getting better because of you.

Lately though, you've been having some issues of your own, and he's been having trouble getting you to calm down. Nightmares mostly, about them, again and again you suffer from their torment. You can't even seem to escape them if you aren't awake and curled up against your boyfriend. He was less than happy to know that the dreams have been becoming more frequent.

He knows exactly what happened with your ex, mostly because he was the one who ended it for you before they took your soul entirely. You two were friends previously to your relationship with your ex. When your ex told you to start cutting people out of your life, Guzma put his foot down.

"You're just going to let them control you Y/N? Where are they right now? I have a few things I'd like to say myself."

"I had to sneak out, they're still at "home", probably asleep."

"Well they'll be waking up real soon whether they want to or not."

Guzma had thought about killing them at some point, most of those thoughts rushing in when you wake up gasping for air.

"Y/N, hey you're ok..."

"But! I-"

"It was just a dream. Look around you for a second."

".....I'm sorry for waking you up again."

"Don't be. I don't sleep much in general anyways."

You didn't want to tell him everything they did, and he probably couldn't handle it if you did. He's suffered some levels of abuse himself, but it's very different for you. It was all because of them that you flinch so much when people go in for a hug, or to show some form of affection. He just does his best to keep you happy around him, which isn't exactly hard since you view him as a sort of savior. The only time that issues arise is when he gets angry, but because of you, he's learning to curve that anger of his.

It sometimes keeps him up at night. 'What did they do to you Y/N?' He'd never have the guts to ask, at least, not yet. Maybe one day, but until either of you are ready, you'll continue to lean on each other for support. God knows just how much you need each other right now.

#skull leader guzma #pkmn guzma #guzma x reader #pokemon guzma #pokemon x reader #pokemon headcanons #pokemon trainer #pokemon #x reader

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its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons · 3 years

Text

pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

July 9th: VIP MEMBERS, GET YALLS JUICE!!

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️

OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—

“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”

“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”

That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”

Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.

“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—

Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—

Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—

The thing is.

The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.

And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—

But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.

That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.

Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—

Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.

So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—

Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.

The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.

Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.

“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.

Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.

“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”

Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.

“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.

Recovery is slow.

Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.

Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.

Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.

Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.

She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.

“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”

Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.

“A little of both,” he admits.

“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”

“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—

She hums.

“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”

Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”

Recovery. He makes a face.

But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.

Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—

Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.

He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.

“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”

Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”

Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.

“What do you need?”

Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

You. Just you. Always you.

“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”

I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.

“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”

“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”

“Well…”

Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.

Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.

So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.

“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.

“I think we should.”

It ends as quickly as it began.

Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.

He knows where he’ll end up.

Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—

There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.

He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—

Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.

So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?

Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?

“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—

“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.

“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.

“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”

Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—

Oh.

Blind spots.

He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.

Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.

“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.

If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.

“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”

“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”

“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.

Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”

Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.

Kissing him feels like coming home.

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #evan buckley

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starks-hero · 3 years

Text

Right a Wrong || Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You help Bucky make amends and things start to look up for the both of you.

Word Count: 2,800

Warnings: angst, fluff, tfatws spoilers! 1×06

a/n: A few people were interested in a second part to Right a Wrong and the finale gave me a little inspiration so ta da! :) This fic can be read as a stand alone but I'll link part one for anyone that's interested. A little rushed so all mistakes are my own. Spoilers below!

|| Part One ||

*gif not mine*

Bucky didn't sleep on the floor anymore, or the couch. Since being with you, falling asleep in a bed had become his new normal. But it was strange. It was soft and warm and comfortable. In a way, it felt wrong. Bucky didn't deserve something this homely or domestic. When he lay down on the silk sheets he felt like they were going to swallow him whole. Or that he'd sink right through the mattress and into the cold floor. It had been so long since he'd slept in a bed his body was completely unaccustomed to the soft, plush bedding beneath him, his back had long since grown used to the stiffness of the floorboards.

In fact, the night you both left the Wilson's and stayed in a somewhat decent hotel together was the first night Bucky had slept in a bed in months. Longer than he cared to admit. But amidst the strangeness of it all, there was you.

His discomfort at the foreign feeling of laying in a soft bed dispersed the moment you crawled in next to him. He'd pulled you to his chest, arms wrapping around you whilst you clung to his side, hands laying lazily across his stomach. And for the first time in years, Bucky fell asleep peacefully. It was the best night of sleep he'd gotten since before the war.

And he owed it all to you.

Buckys feelings for you had only grown stronger since that day you agreed to go with him. Since then he'd sworn that he'd never met anyone as loving or caring as you in his lifetime.

You didn't run, you didn't leave him. When the nightmares came you stayed. You would gently coax him awake and calm his waking mind with soft words of comfort when the night terrors left him terrified and confused. You held him, gently running your hands down his body and through his hair, not showing any disdain for where man met metal. And when you gently kissed the side of his head Bucky swore he was prepared to forgive everyone that had ever wronged him if they had played a part in bringing him to you.

His nightmares had also declined in the time that you two were together, as did most of his self deprecating thoughts. Of course, they didn't go away entirely. But you helped him where you could and understood when you couldn't. You knew that despite how much you wanted to, you couldn't love his demons away. And Bucky loved you all the more for accepting that.

Over the course of a few weeks, when the dust had finally settled after the Flag Smashers attack on the GRC HQ in New York, both you and Bucky focused on the names in the book that Bucky could now recite in order without even glancing at the page. When you'd asked him where he wanted to start, one name immediately leapt to the forefront of his mind. And that name is exactly what had led you both to the quaint apartment block tucked away in the corner of New York City.

"I can't do this." Bucky's voice was timid as you both stood outside the apartment complex. He swallowed and turned to you helplessly.

"Yes, you can." You gently took his hand in yours.

This was it. The first name on Bucky's list. Yori Nakajima. You were both aware that the first was going to be the hardest. But now that you were actually here, standing in front of the home of the elderly man who'd lost his son at the hands of the winter soldier, it suddenly seemed all too real and just a little bit impossible. Bucky's stomach tied itself in a knot.

"No, I can't. I can't." He said through laboured breaths. He shook his head as he paced in front of you. "I can't tell him. I can't watch what that will do to him. I can't-" Bucky's breathing began to grow erratic.

"Hey." You quickly stepped in, stopping his relentless pacing and holding his face in your hands. "It's okay, you're okay." You softly shushed him. "Bucky, you can do this. You have to."

He sighed, calming slightly beneath your touch. "I'm guessing I have to do it alone, too. Don't I?" He asked and you nodded sympathetically. Your thumb caressed his cheek, tracing the stubble along his jaw. As much as you wanted to be there with him you knew he had to do this part alone.

"You can do this."

Bucky smiled softly at your words despite the growing fear in his eyes. He gently caught your wrist and moved your hand to his mouth, placing a tender kiss to your palm.

"Okay," he said quietly and turned to glance at the door of the building. He exhaled slowly.

"I'll be waiting right here," you comforted and he acknowledged you with a curt nod. His hand slipped from yours as he headed inside and you watched him go, your heart in your throat.

Time seemed to drag on forever as you waited, nervously toying with your hands. Bucky had been gone for a little under forty minutes and you couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. You tried to convince yourself that everything was fine but your mind kept reminding you of the worst possible scenario and what that might mean for Bucky.

You bit down on your lip as you impatiently shuffled your feet. You watched the crowds pass as you stood out of the way of the busy street, leaning against the wall of the alley next to the apartments.

After a few more painfully long moments you saw him amongst the crowd. Bucky's expression was unreadable as he stopped in front of you and you couldn't tell if things had gone well or not. He almost seemed to be in a state of shock.

"Bucky," you tried timidly and he looked up at you. There were tears building in his eyes.

"He forgave me." He managed hoarsely. The frenzy of emotions he was experiencing was evident in his expression. It was almost as if he didn't know whether to laugh with joy or cry. You wordlessly pulled him to you and he welcomed your embrace.

"You did it, Buck," you muttered as you comfortingly ran your hands along his back and he clung to you like a lifeline. "You did it."

He pulled away to look at you, still slightly teary-eyed but features now flooded with relief. The weight of the world seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders and a small smile found its way to his lips as he looked at you in disbelief

You pulled the small red book from your pocket, where it had been stowed away for safekeeping, and Bucky nodded. You were the only one Bucky trusted enough to share it with. You handed the tattered notebook to him and he turned the pages in a flimsy, disorganised motion, his fingers shaking slightly. Pulling a pencil from his pocket, Bucky's smile widened as he drew a line through 'Nakajima'.

He traced the faded name with his thumb one last time before glaring at the multiple other names and initials jot down on the paper.

"What now?" He asked as he glanced down at the open book in his hand.

You shrugged. "One down."

Bucky huffed, shoving the book back into his pocket with a surprising level of caution. "Only a dozen more to go."

"Still, it's a start." You smiled, gently placing your hand against his shoulder and dragging it down his arm.

He smirked, catching your waist and pulling you into him. He captured your lips in a kiss, ignoring the fact that the street was still bustling with people a few feet away from you both. Bucky wasn't always the biggest fan of PDA, mostly because it wasn't exactly encouraged to be all that affectionate in public back in the forties. But this was different. This was you and him and in light of what had just happened, he didn't care who saw. He was going to kiss you as much as he damn wanted to.

"Thank you," he muttered against your lips, slipping his hand into yours as you both stepped out onto the busy street.

"You've got to stop saying that." You shook your head and Buckys hand only tightened around your own.

"Why?" He tilted his head with a bemused smirk.

"Because I told you," you grinned, pulling him closer to you so your shoulders brushed. "You don't have to say thank you, not to me."

Bucky didn't answer, truth was he was at a complete loss for words. He just offered you a loving smile as he wondered how he got so damn lucky.

It had been a few weeks since the final name had been crossed off the list. Some had taken their toll on Bucky more than others, but now it was finally complete and Bucky once again experienced that wonderful feeling of being freed. This time not from trigger words, but from burdens he'd been forced to carry.

Things were finally looking up for you both. You'd managed to carve out your own unique sense of normality. And as both you and Bucky worked in the kitchen of your shared apartment on a particular Saturday afternoon, your new normal seemed to include watching the worlds most deadly ex-assassin baking a cake.

"And you're sure we couldn't have just bought one?" You asked, trying and failing to hide a smirk as you glanced at Bucky's handiwork. The cake was lopsided and the icing Bucky was currently covering it in seemed to be its only saving grace.

"Of course not, doll. Where's the fun in that." Bucky stated plainly. However, given your earlier attempt at cake baking, it would turn out that Buckys idea of fun involved throwing flour and eggs at each other and then making out on the tabletop whilst the cake overcooked in the oven.

But you didn't complain. You were just glad to see him so happy and carefree after everything.

He plastered a finishing layer of cream over the cake, looking awfully pleased with himself as he held it up for you to see with a proud smirk.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter.

"Get cleaned up." You ordered, motioning to his flour-covered henley. "Sam told us to be there by five o'clock. We're going to be late."

Bucky nodded dismissively as he sucked the stray icing from his fingers, making a point to keep eye contact with you as he did so. He smirked knowingly. Purposely pissing you off just to get a reaction out of you was just too much fun, he couldn't resist it.

"Problem, doll?" He asked and you wordlessly crossed the room and kissed his stupid smirk right off his stupid mouth. His mischievous grin only widened as he moaned against you. The sweet taste of icing lingered on his lips.

"Nope, no problem." You swiped your thumb across the corner of his mouth once you pulled back, wiping away the last of the icing. "You just had a little something on your lips."

He grinned down at you, heart full. You were going to be the death of him but god would he die a happy man if that were the case.

It took every ounce of control and willpower he possessed but he masterfully with-held the urge to shove you against the nearest surface and instead did as he was told, heading upstairs to change with one last peck to your cheek.

Ten minutes later and you were both on the road, cake securely strapped into the back seat of the car. The apartment you and Bucky were staying in was only a short drive away from the Wilson's and Sam was right, the people in the town really were the most welcoming in the world. You and Bucky had never felt more at home.

As Bucky parked the car on the dock, Cass and AJ were the first to greet you, ambushing Bucky. You smiled fondly as you watched him goof around with the boys before greeting everyone already at the cookout. Both boys then turned their attention to you, almost tackling you to the ground with the strength of their hugs. You couldn't quite put it into words, but there was something about how AJ rambled on so fondly about how Uncle Sam had set a place for you and Bucky at their table that made you feel more at home than ever before. Dinner itself was filled with laughter and shared stories. You did sit with the Wilson's, Bucky and Cass sitting to your left and right with Sam, Sarah and AJ sitting across from you. It was perfect. Between the bad jokes and the arguments over things as simple as the salt and pepper, it all blended together into the perfect mess of domestic bliss.

You glanced at Bucky who was smiling widely and laughing as he told a story to both boys who looked to him as if he were explaining the secrets of the universe. He was relaxed, unburdened and above all else, happy. He looked like he had finally found a home, a family.

As the meals were finished and things quietened down, you helped Sarah and Sam clean everything up. Then once everything was done, you simply sat and enjoyed the atmosphere. There was music being played, people dancing, and a little off to your left you could see Bucky. AJ and another kid were comedically hanging from his metal arm. Playful smiles were adorning all their faces. Who knew the worlds deadliest assassin had no issue with being a jungle gym if it meant making kids smile?

"I told you. Didn't I tell you?"

You turned and found Sam grinning behind you. He motioned to you and then Bucky.

"I've never seen him like this, so happy. Feels like I'm looking at the old Bucky Steve use to talk about." He said and you beamed.

"Yeah. He's come so far, crossed off every name in his book. I guess he finally feels like he can move on now."

Sam's elated expression softened as he glanced between you and Bucky again.

"I guess we've got you to thank for that, huh?" He playfully elbowed you in the side but his voice was nothing short of genuine. You laughed and shook your head, pushing back into him.

"I didn't do anything, it was all him. I just stood by."

"That's exactly why it's you I should thank." Sam smiled. Both of your gazes fell back on Bucky who seemed to have started a rather competitive game of tag among the kids he was surrounded by. "You stood by him no matter how bad it got. Not a lot of people would do that. Hell, not a lot of people have done that for him. I don't want to think about what could have happened if he didn't have you."

You nodded solemnly, eyes not leaving Bucky.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere so you don't have to worry about that."

Sam nodded with a grin, clasping a hand down on your shoulder. "Glad to hear it. But we should probably stop staring at him now, it's getting creepy, people are going to start asking questions."

You laughed at Sam's comment, muttering a quiet 'Copy that, Cap' as he headed back over to Sarah. As the sun began to set beneath the waves, most of the guests began to take their leave and head home. However, you and Bucky strayed away from the main party for a little time alone. You stood on the dock overlooking the water, Bucky behind you with his arm around your waist and planting kiss after kiss to your neck.

You couldn't explain the warmth that spread within you as you both watched the sun go down. But this was all you'd ever wanted. Bucky pulled you closer against him, opting to use his new vantage point to gingerly kiss your cheek.

"I love you," he sighed, resting his chin against your shoulder. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You grasped his hand and laid back against him, counting your lucky stars that you'd both made it to where you were at that moment.

"I love you too."

He grinned at your words and held you close as he looked out over the golden waves and setting sun. He was finally home.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @doozywoozy @miraclesoflove @the-queer-dungeoneer @kealohilani-tepise

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #tfatws spoilers #tfatws x reader #marvel x reader

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multifandomfanficss · 3 years

Text

Perfect

Doctor x Reader (Platonic!Jack x Reader)

Prompt: When on an adventure with the Doctor and Jack the reader is attacked by an alien called a Psyfon, a race with psychic abilities who feed off of emotions. The reader gets stuck in their perfect dream realm and the Doctor has to save them before they die in there.

Warnings: Dead family members.

A/N: Pretty much any Doctor can be used, but I mostly thought of 10 and 11 while writing it. The aliens were inspired by the Djinn from Supernatural. I was also inspired by Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest a little bit so if you’re a fan of the main series you should totally check that out. Also please let me know if I made an error in pronouns. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so everyone could relate.

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and had run into Jack not long after you met him. When you first met Jack, an old friend of the Doctor’s, you didn’t believe him when he said he had known the Doctor for over a century. Judging by his earthly appearance and his age there was no way this could be true, but after watching him die you quickly learned of his immortality.

You met the Doctor when he saved you from the Cybermen. Sadly he couldn’t save your family from such a terrible fate, but he got you out just in time. Ever since then they had been your biggest fear. Jack and the Doctor had lived for so long they both knew what it was like to lose the people they cared for most...nobody knew better than the Doctor. They helped you get through the pain that came after such a big loss. The Doctor would often hear crying coming from your room during your early nights on the TARDIS when he sat up late in the console room and he would be at your side in seconds to comfort you. He was always there for you no matter what. You wouldn’t have gotten to this point without him. By now the nightmares had gone away, mostly, and the scars had stopped bleeding, but they were still there. They would always be there. This history was a part of you forever, your history, and you were just lucky enough to have the Doctor in it. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you had grown a little bit of a crush on the Doctor. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s the Doctor. You loved him, but you would never tell him. You were happy living with his ignorance. Life was better in the bliss of your friendship.

It had been just a normal adventure with your two best friends, Jack and the Doctor, but then again nothing was ever really normal with them. You were separated from your boys as your ran down a long dark corridor. Your shoes slapped against the cold, hard pavement as you rounded the corner. When you looked behind you there seemed to be nothing chasing you anymore. You stopped to catch your breath.

The three of you had been investigating a series of psychic attacks that were leaving people brain dead and full of a strange blue goo. You weren’t sure what kind of alien could do such a thing, but you knew you had to find out.

“(Y/N)?!” I hear Jack yell in a hushed tone. His voice echos throughout the empty building. You turn to look for him when you start to hear ringing in your ears and a giant pounding in your head. You feel your eyes close as your body hits the ground.

THIRD PERSON POV

Jack stood next to (Y/N)’s body with his gun aimed at the monster while the Doctor crouched down to check their pulse.

“You better hope they’re still alive!” Jack said as he shoved his big gun in the monster’s face. Usually the Doctor would object to pointing guns at people, but he was so worried about (Y/N) he didn’t have time to care about Jack’s manners.

“What did you do to them?!” The Doctor asks standing up to look at the alien. They were from a species called Psyfons, a group of aliens who feed off the emotions of other people.

“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping,” the alien slurred.

“For now,” they added. Jack hit the alien with the butt of his gun and knocked them out. The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“You should be happy. Knocking them out was the least I could do” Jack joked. The Doctor rolled his eyes and dropped down to (Y/N)‘s body again. Jack joined him this time. They were sweating. He placed his hand over their forehead.

“They’re burning up” Jack stated the obvious.

“Yes, I know I-I I have to do-do this thing-“ The Doctor starts stuttering.

“Then do it!” Jack cuts him.

“But I can’t! I swore I’d never do it again! Not since-“ He started to get a little choked up.

“Since what?!” Jack questioned.

“Not since Donna” The Doctor finished sadly. Jack put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder.

“It’s the only way to save them” Jack told him.

“It was the only way to save her too” The Doctor says sadly.

“Maybe it’ll be different this time” Jack suggests.

“We don’t know that” The Doctor says coldly as he puts his hands to (Y/N)’s head and enter’s their mind.

(Y/N)’S POV

You wake up laying in the grass in front of your old house. You hear the sound of birds and the sun is just a little too bright for comfort, but it’s home. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You smile, but you’re confused. You look over to see the Doctor standing in the TARDIS door. Jack is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“Oh, popped off to see his friends at Torchwood, I suppose” The Doctor tells you. You nod as you look back to your house.

“And we’re home because...” You wonder.

“The Psyfon knocked you out. I figured this would be a nice, safe place to rest for a while” He reminds you.

“And I couldn’t just rest in the TARDIS?” You ask.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise” He says.

“What year is it?” You ask. You doubt he would be able to bring you to a time period where your family is alive, but it never hurts to ask.

“2021” He answers.

“So they’re not here” you say sadly.

“Who’s not here?” He asks.

“My family” You say becoming more sad, but more confused by the second. How could he just forget like that? You know he’s lived for a long time, but surely he wouldn’t forget something this important to you. Would he? He gives you a confused look.

“Doctor, my family is d-“ You’re cut off by the sound of a door opening.

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!” You hear a voice say. You stop dead in your tracks and you go white. It can’t be.

“Mom?” You say as you turn around to see her. You run to her and engulf her in a giant hug.

“Woah, what’s that for?” Your mother asks delighted, as you practically knock her down.

“I just missed you. That’s all” You say as you try to hold back your tears.

“Where is everybody?” You ask, as it suddenly dawns on you that your family is alive.

“Your father went to go pick up your brother and sister from school” She informs you. The Doctor comes up behind you and takes your hand. He squeezes it, giving you a big smile. He is an impossible man, but you never knew he could do something like this for you.

“Why don’t you two come in? It’s almost time for tea” Your mother invites you in. You gladly accept, of course. You watch your mother go into the kitchen as you pull the Doctor aside into the living room and hug him tightly.

“Thank you” You tell him. That’s when you start to let go of a few tears.

“I figured it was time to go home” He says happily. The hug lingers a little longer than usual. He just holds you. Then he places a quick kiss to your cheek, just missing your lips. Your face goes red. This is completely out of character for your relationship with the Doctor. Sure you had always wanted to be something more, but he didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want your relationship with him to change. You figure it’s best to just dance around the subject. You pull away and clear your throat.

“So, um...how did you do it?” You ask.

“Do what?” He asks looking lovingly into your eyes.

“Bring my family back?” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“I didn’t” He says simply. That’s when your head begins to ring again.

“Let me in, (Y/N). That’s it.” You hear the Doctor’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving. Suddenly there is a light and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably. He cracks his neck and stretches out his arms.

“Good thing there was a body here for me to jump into or else that could have been disastrous” He comments. You give him a confused look.

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry (Y/N), but none of this is real” He says plainly.

“What?” You ask. This all certainly looks and feels real. The sound of a kettle whistle comes from the kitchen. The Doctor sniffs the air.

“Is that tea?” He asks.

“Tea’s ready!” Your mom calls from the kitchen.

“Doctor, you need to tell me what’s going on right now” You demand. He looks into the kitchen and makes a face.

“The Psyfon. It put you in a dream state so it could feed off your energy and emotions. You’re dying in the real world. Turning to goo” He held out the last word as he made a face of disgust and interest. He gave you a sad look as he started to put the pieces together, of where you were and who you were with. You started to feel your legs give out from underneath you. The Doctor guided you to a chair.

“I want to stay” You say numbly.

“(Y/N), none of this is real” He starts.

“I don’t care. I want to stay” You repeat.

“You’ll die in here” He begins.

“Time works differently in dreams. I could easily spend my whole life here-“ You try to rationalize it.

“You’ll never see me again” The Doctor tries.

“There’s a version of you here-“ You try, but are cut off again. He crouches down to your level and takes hold of your hands.

“(Y/N), none of this is real. It will never be real. Your pain balances out your beauty. There wouldn’t be one without the other and that’s what makes you human and you are SO human. This is all in your head. You will be alone in here forever. Please just come home with me. There are people there who will miss you. Come back with me, back to the TARDIS, please!” He results to begging as a last ditch effort.

“How can I go back when everything is so perfect here? I’m perfect here. I’m not a mess. I can just be me” You start to cry.

“You’re always perfect to me and that little bit of mess makes you human. It doesn’t lessen your beauty or your creativity or your kindness. It just adds to who you are as a person” He says, wiping away a tear.

“Please. Come home with me” He begs. You nod in response as he gives your hands a squeeze. He gives you a sad smile. You stand together and you hear the doorbell ring.

“That must be your father. He forgot his keys again” Your mother laughs as she walks to the door. The door opens and the Doctor pushes himself in front of your as three Cybermen crash through the door.

“DELETE” One yells, as it kills your mother.

“NO” You scream, as the Doctor tries to keep you from running towards her.

“She isn’t real! Come on!” He yells over the sound of pounding Cybermen feet as he pulls you out the back way to the garden.

“Where’s the TARDIS?” He asks.

“It’s on the other side of the house!” You say as you pull him around the building. You lay your eyes on the beautiful blue box as the Doctor shoves his key inside.

“YOU WILL BE UPGRADED” The Cybermen shout. Once unlocked, you push your way through the doors to find a hollow Police Box.

“Why is this happening?!” You cry. The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders.

“The dream is turning into a nightmare to try to keep you here. (Y/N), come on. You have to think. What’s keeping you here?” He asks.

“My family is dead!” You cry.

“Yes, something else” He tries to think. You look at his thinking face. His beautiful thinking face and it strikes you.

“I’m in love with you” You blurt out.

“What?!” He looks back at you with a confused look.

“The version of you here. I think he felt the same way” You give him an embarrassed look. He lets go of a big breath.

“Well...” He starts as he tilts his head.

“I suppose if admitting the way I feel gets us out of here then the real me doesn’t feel very different” He finishes quickly.

“Wait, what?!” You respond. He gives you his classic Doctor smile before the Cybermen fade. Everything fades. The world goes black.

You wake up crying with a pounding headache in your bed in the TARDIS. The Doctor rushes in just like old times.

“It’s okay. I’m here” The Doctor tells you as he sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you.

“I just had the most insane dream” You start to tell him.

“Well...” His voice fades.

“Doctor, was that real?” You ask him. He pulls back to look at you.

“In a sense, yes” He goes on to explain the effects the Psyfon had on you and how he went into your mind to save you. He explains how you were unconscious when you came out of the dream state and that he brought you back to your room on the TARDIS to rest.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“He’s bringing the Psyfon to the Shadow Proclamation for me where they will be tried for their psychological attacks. They won’t hurt anyone anymore” He promises. After you’ve calmed down somewhat he gets up to leave the room.

“You should get some rest” He says opening the door.

“Wait! Doctor, do you think maybe you could stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” You ask.

“Of course” He responds as he awkwardly climbs into your bed and wraps his arms around you. You almost forget about your confessions until he kisses you on the cheek.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” He says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Doctor” You say as you drift off to sleep to the sound of his dual heartbeats.

502 notes · View notes

goldentournesol · 4 years

Text

Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately.

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on.

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds.

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it.

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive.

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head.

The BAU!

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed.

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He’d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture.

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right.

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy.

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt.

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was.

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind.

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her.

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone?

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed.

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased.

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly.

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away.

Blood.

So much blood.

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.�� She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days.

It wasn’t real.

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #mgg #CM

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Once Upon a Time in…

Storybrooke.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Emma Swan x Reader, Regina Mills x Reader, Snow White x Reader, Prince Charming x Reader.

Word Count: 2900.

Previously on the series - Neverland, Camelot

“So we’re back at square one.” You sigh, looking at Henry, while he is reading his enormous book.

“Not entirely true. We know that we have to lift the curse so you can leave, and that we have to do it fast before you become a character of the book.” He says, without raising his head at you. You’re almost arguing when a plate with at least 20 pancakes is placed before you. That stops your mind mid-rant.

“Thanks, Granny.” You smile at her, who smiles back before leaving. “Except that we don’t know who cursed the town, so I might as well embrace my fate of being a fairytale character right now and forever.”

“You know, there is another way.” He finally looks at you and you encourage him with an eyebrow raise. “Too risky and honestly? I don’t even know if they would agree to it…”

“Would you go on with it already? No need to build up the climax, we’re already past that.”

“Another curse.” Henry says and you furrow your brows. Having two curses surely doesn’t sound like the solution. “A liftable curse, of course.”

You just blink at him when he doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Ok, what if my mom cursed you into believing you’re a part of the story? You would be written into the book-” You open your mouth to argue. “But it comes from someone who knows and can undo it. So, when the time comes, she lifts the curse and you’re not in the book anymore.”

“Uh.” You think about it for a second. “Sounds like it could work. It would be like if we had a countdown watch and after your mom’s curse it would just pause it.” You say and he nods in agreement.

“The protection spell around town gets lifted and she undoes your curse right after. The countdown restarts but you would be ready to leave.” He finishes your train of thought. “Only thing is whether she will agree to this.”

“Well, we’ve got to try, right? Might be our only hope.” You’re almost out of the booth when you look at the pancakes in front of you. “Give me a minute.”

“Can’t believe you’re thinking about food right now.” Henry rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t believe you’re not.” You say inhaling the food in front of you in exactly one minute. “Ok, I’m done.”

“This was traumatic to watch.”

You ignore him and you both run out of Granny’s to Regina’s house at the end of the main street. You try to go slower so he doesn’t fall too far behind, but you’re still in front of her house way before he gets there.

“Next time, give me a ride.” He is breathing hard next to you but recovers faster than normal. “Mom? Are you here?”

“In the kitchen, kid!” You hear Emma’s voice, and you follow Henry to it. You find both Regina and Emma making breakfast together. The scene doesn’t fail to bring tears to your eyes. It’s too familiar. “Oh, you guys are together, great!”

“We think we have a, well, it’s not a solution. It’s more like a-” Henry looks at you.

“Band-aid.” You give them a forced smile.

“Let’s hear it.” Regina asks and you and Henry do your best explaining the whole thing. “So I would undo the curse and she’ll leave, huh?”

“I know it’s not ideal but-”

“But it’s pretty good.” Emma says. She comes closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure about that, though?”

“No. I know nothing about magic.” You shrug. “If this was science or anything related, I would probably be sure, but this is outside my area of expertise. If you two think it could work, then I trust you to bring me back when it’s time.”

“You should know all magic comes with a price.” Regina adds.

“What’s the price?”

“We’ll learn about it later.” She raises an eyebrow at you. You think of Lena and how you need to go back home to see her eyebrow raise.

“I’ll pay.”

“Well, then hold on to it, kid.” Regina says with a smile. “You’re about to become a fairytale character.”

You and Henry look at each other. As good of an idea this was, you didn’t consider all the outcomes. You’ll become a fairytale character; you won’t remember anything about your actual life. You won’t remember your moms, aunts, cousins, girlfriend, grandmas… You know it’s what you have to do, if you ever want to make it out of this reality and back into yours, but still. Not remembering Jamie’s laugh, Maya’s kisses, Kelly’s comfort, Alex’s shoulder squeezes, Lillian’s head tilt, Eliza’s soft voice, Lena’s green eyes, Kara’s smiles, it almost makes you want to forget about this and find another way.

“Ok, the curse is ready.” Regina says and you look up, coming back from your thoughts.

“Smells funny.”

“I know, sweetheart. It's a curse. It's not meant to be pleasant.” She says, making your heart beat faster on your chest. You hold your necklace strongly in your hands; remember your family one last time. Then close your eyes.

“Yay, food!” You open your eyes and look at your moms on the other side with a stack of pancakes in front of them.

“Hey, leave some for your brother.” Regina says, stopping you before you grab all of the apple pancakes she has made.

“Fine, you can have one, Henry.” You joke, putting just one on his plate from the stack in front of you.

“Be nicer, honey.” Emma kisses the crown of your head, before sitting next to you. You smile, putting two more on his plate.

“There, you’re eating just as much as me now.”

“Listen kids, today Emma and I will be working with Mr. Gold to see if we can lift the protection spell around the city. You two will spend the day with the Charmings.”

“Oh, come on, moms. We’re old enough to help!” Henry says and you agree.

“Of course you are. And we will need your help when the time comes. Just, well, you know how is like to work with Mr. Gold-”

“Always an adventure.” You and Henry say in unison.

“Something like that.” Emma agrees looking like she wanted to disagree, instead. “Besides, I thought you had archery lessons with your grandma today?”

“Yes!” You agree, excitedly.

“And Henry, you will be hanging out with your grandpa at the station, right?” She gets his answer in the form of a nod. “Well, great, we’re all very busy today. But we’re still meeting at Granny’s tonight for dinner, ok?”

“Sure thing, mom.” You get up and kiss her head. “See you guys later, I’m late to meet grandma.” You kiss Regina’s head right after. “Bye, mom. Squirt, wanna a ride?”

“Stop calling me squirt.” Henry complains, getting up from the table. “See you later, moms.” He follows you to the front of the house. “Don’t run so fast, I just ate.”

“You know I only have two speed levels. Fast or breaking the sound barrier.” He jumps on your back and out you go, fast enough to be at the station in a blink of an eye. “See you later!”

It doesn’t take long before you and Snow White are walking in the woods close to the city. You love spending time in the woods with her. You love just sitting in silence and letting your senses become even more refined. Sure, you have super hearing, but she teaches you how to focus even on the simpler things. Leaves in the wind, steps in the woods, birds chirping. There’s no other place you feel as in peace as in the woods with Snow.

“So? How are the woods today?” She asks, hand on your shoulder.

“Was there ever a time where there wasn’t anyone in the woods doing weird stuff?” You ask, making Snow laugh loudly next to you.

“Not in Storybrooke.” Snow agrees with a smile and points a direction for you both to walk.

“How do you want to do this?” You ask, putting your bow into position and closing one eye, looking around.

“Like we shall do everything.” You look at her and she winks at you. “Together.”

You miss the shot. You try again. Your arrow breaks. You try again. You lose your temper. You try yet again.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

‘Together’ is the word to live by.

“Mom, can you help me take control of the panic attacks?” It’s late at night when you ask her that. Regina is happy that you’re asking for her help, and you two sneak into her office while Emma and Henry watch Space Paranoids.

“Remember,” She holds you, before she starts. “These are nightmares I’m putting in your mind. None of them are real. You’re safe and sound at home with us. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Ok.”

“But sweetheart, you’ve got to fight it. With all the strength and courage I know you have. Concentrate and fight it.” Regina says, and you nod, closing your eyes.

Your mind is filled with visions. Terrible ones, by the way. You see people dying, by shot guns and swords. It’s a war inside your mind. You know it’s not real, but the feeling is the same. You try to run but your legs feel wobbly and weak, and you fall on your knees. There’s a pool of blood under you and when you look to the side you see Henry with glassy eyes, completely lifeless.

“NOOOO!” Your heart starts beating into your ribcage, as you shake before reaching for him. “Please, please don’t be dead.”

“Concentrate. Focus.”

“HE IS DEAD! IT’S MY FAULT!” You yell, with tears wetting your face.

“It’s not your fault.” Regina says in your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

“HENRY! PLEASE COME BACK!”

“What’s going on?” You hear his voice. Regina has already stopped filling your mind with visions, but still you see his glassy eyes staring at you. “Hey, open your eyes. I’m here.”

You see him. But your body is still reacting harshly to the vision. You cry and shake. You’ve failed, but you’re not the one to back down.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

You’ll overcome your fears.

“Hey honey!” Emma wakes you up, with an excited greeting, and you roll to the side not opening your eyes just yet. “I could really use your help with something.”

“What is it?” You mumble, still too sleepy to talk.

“We’ve gotta help Ella. And I thought we could have some mother-daughter bonding time.”

“You’re my mother. Isn’t that enough of a bond?” You ask, as a joke, and you get a chuckle in response.

“Come on. It would be much faster if you could fly around and find her for me. Otherwise I would have to use magic to find a shoe and then more magic to track her, and then-”

“Oh my God, ok. I’ll help.” You get up and get ready in seconds. “I know you just want my help because I’m faster than the Flash.”

“Faster than a flash, honey.” Emma corrects you. “Let’s go!”

So you find Ella, just before her evil stepmother shoots her, and you stand tall in front of her because you’re indestructible, and your mom uses magic to contain her evil stepmother, and it’s just another day in Storybrooke. You know, for a really small town, there’s always something going on in here.

“Saving the town with my kid.” Emma throws her arms around your shoulders with a smile. “What mother could ask for more?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think being saved probably doesn’t sound so bad.” You complain, getting a tight squeeze from her.

“Sitting around waiting to be saved, with no idea whether someone’s actually going to come for you-” She sighs, loudly. “Trust me, I know doing all the saving all the time sounds exhausting. But waiting around is-is as bad as it can get, honey.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

Heroism comes first.

“Are you ready?” Snow asks and you agree excitedly. Bow and arrow ready to shoot. You look at her getting in position. “Together.”

You nod, and you two aim at the same spot. Both of the arrows travel together and land side by side in the middle of the target. You smile, excited. “I feel like the Green Arrow!”

“Who’s that?” Snow asks and you look at her furrowing your brows.

“I-I don’t know.” You think and think about how that name just easily left your mouth. Huh. Weird.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Here comes the town’ superhero!” Emma says when you walk in the kitchen.

“Here is the town’ savior!” You answer with a smile.

“I could use your help out there today, kid!” She widens her smile.

“Doesn’t this town have enough heroes?” You sit next to her, and she kisses the crown of your head, before placing a plate of hot waffles in front of you.

“But only one is super.” She winks, making you giggle in excitement. You’re convinced right away.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Focus. Concentrate.” Regina says, close to your ear. And you breathe deep trying to do so.

“It's kind of hard when you're talking in my ear.”

“And when the wind blows, or it's raining, or someone's shooting arrows at you. Yes, concentration's hard. That's the point.” She bumps her shoulder on yours. “Sweetheart, you told me you needed help.”

“And I do.”

“Then let me help.” She runs her fingers through your hair slowly. “The world will always throw disappointments, sorrows and pain on our backs. It’s our job to learn how to handle them. I worked very hard for my first reaction to be as Regina and not as the Evil Queen.”

“I know, mom. You said that a million times.” Your answer makes Regina lose her cool a little. And you smile, apologetic. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I asked for help. I need to know how to handle the pain. Please, I’m ready to go on.”

“Close your eyes.” She asks again and you comply. “Are you ready?” You shake your head in agreement.

You see images. Like a lucid dream in your mind. Regina is using magic to alter what you see. And you see destruction, death everywhere. You see Snow’s head detached from her body, Emma bleeding with a sword on her heart, the only thing left from Charming is his hand, still clinging to his sword.

You should be ready by now. In fact, you should be used to it somehow. It’s not the first time you and Regina do this kind of exercise. But it doesn’t matter how many times you see your family bleeding out, totally lifeless in front of you, every single time, without fail, makes your heart beat faster, your lungs stop working, you shake, you start crying and hyperventilating, ready to destroy everything.

“Focus! No fire from the eyes.” You hear Regina’s voice and you come back to yourself a little bit, just to hold back your first reaction. It’s always the eyes.

“But mom is dead.” You cry out, clenching your fist.

“Concentrate. You can do it.”

You can do it.

You kneel before Snow’s head. Breath in while counting to 3. Hold your breath for 3 seconds. Breath out in the same amount of time. You know this isn’t real. Snow is home, and safe. You’re not in the enchanted forest. Nothing here is real.

You unclench your fist. Steadying your breath. You fight the images. Snow’s head goes back to her body. Charming’s hand disappears. Emma opens her eyes.

“You can do it.” You hear again. And you feel the thump in your heart settling back in your ribcage. Beating normal again. Soon enough the entire thing vanishes in front of your eyes. You open your eyes again. Your hands are still shaking a little, but you’re home with your mom, and you’re safe. She smiles fondly at you. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“I did it. I stopped my panic attack.” You say with excitement planted on your face and she hugs you tightly. It doesn’t matter how many months it took you to do so, you still did it.

“How about we celebrate? Guess who lifted the town’s protection spell this morning?”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes widen in excitement.

“Yes! You know what that means?” Regina asks, and you can barely contain yourself, jumping up and down.

“Pizza from the neighborhood city!” You squeak. “Can I go get it? Please mom, let me go get it!”

“Here.” Regina gives you the money. “Bring enough for your grandparents. And Belle. Maybe Hook too. Just anyone who happens to be at Granny’s.”

“So basically the entire city?”

“Basically.” She smiles and you’re almost out the door, when you look back at her and add.

“Did I have any plans for when we could leave town?” You think and think, but nothing comes to mind. “It’s weird, I swear I feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

“Maybe to give mom a kiss?” Regina asks and you smile. Rushing to her and hugging her, before kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, it was probably just a kiss.” You chuckle.

Days. Weeks. Months.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #ouat fanfiction #ouat #snow white #emma swan #regina mills #swanqueen

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: dead dove: do not eat, heavily implied rape, gross misuse of a pact, dissociation victim blaming

Summary: not all pact masters use their pacts judiciously or in a positive way. What happens when a pact is misused in one of the worst ways possible?

A/N: so a while back I did a comic by the name of ‘Meet Me Under the Azaleas’ I’m no longer happy with the writing I put into it originally so I wanted to rewrite it using the same plot line and adding some extra scenes that weren’t in the original comic which I’ll be taking down tonight. It should work better as a fic anyway.

Chapter 1

“You are ours. We own you.”

Those words rang in his head over and over as he stumbled his way into his room, overstimulated, exhausted- a mess. He knew it was a mistake to answer the call of those witches tonight. The thoughts of what they did, how their hands ran over his body, what they had taken away. It made his stomach churn and tie itself in knots with guilt and shame. It burned just the same as the rope marks on his wrists and ankles- wounds that would heal within the hour.

“You won’t breathe a word of this to anyone- this we command of you, Avatar of Greed.”

Those women -no, they were monsters- abused the innate trust that comes with a demon who enters a pact with a human, multiple in this case. They had violated the boundaries he’d put in place the day he started dating his human. Oh God, what would she think if word ever got out? He had no way of speaking out- to scream the truth until his voice was raw.

He needed to shower, to get the stench of sex and sweat off of him. He had to get their scent off of him. As he entered the bathroom, Mammon tore off his clothes as he started the water. The lights remained off as he couldn’t bare to look at himself after what happened. Not after how he just let them use him like that.

He stepped under the boiling water and just let it run against him. The falling water did nothing to drown out the deafening voices running rampant in his mind.

“Disgusting!” They roared, “Useless! Pathetic! Weak! Whore! ….. Scum!”

He falls to the floor of his shower, hands gripping at his hair as he let out a whimper that eventually turned into quiet sobs. The steamy air making it harder to breathe. Why didn’t he fight against them harder- against their orders. No, he just laid there and took it.

He grabbed the soap and a wash rag and scrubbed his body until every bit of him was raw and even then he wouldn’t stop. It was only when he saw the blood swirling around the drain that Mammon realized what he was doing to himself- how bad the water burned the exposed skin. It felt like hellfire raining down upon him.

He felt horrible as he reached up and switched the water off. He could still hear it in his head as he reached for a towel- all the crying, screaming, begging for them to stop.

He was a pathetic, sorry excuse of a demon, he thinks as he wraps the towel around his waist and travels down the his stairs quietly. It’s early morning now. There was only a few hours left before he would have wake up for school. He contemplated just skipping the entire day. There would be know way he’d be able to function. He could always say he feels sick- its not that far from the truth. He would decide in a few hours, he thought as he crawled into bed. It didn’t take long for her to move closer to him. His naturally warmer body temperature was what drew her to him. His body involuntarily tensing as she nuzzled into his chest, arms slipping around his body. He would only tuck her head under his chin and drape and arm over her side as he let the scent of her shampoo relax him enough to fall into a light sleep.

After a short while, someone's alarm blared among the sheets- whether it his or Arella's, he couldn't be sure. Mammon patted around for the offending phone, just wanting to get five more minutes of shut eye. He eventually succeeded but not without waking his partner.

"Morning, Love," Arella sighed, her voice still laced with the grogginess of sleep.

"Mornin', Treasure," The demon yawns as he curls back up, pulling her closer to his chest. "Sleep well?"

"I did. What time you get back last night?" Arella's voice is soft as her hand slides under his shirt, rubbing gently along his side.

"5 this mornin'." He says as he tries to hide the way his body recoils from her touch, a pang of guilt strikes his heart as she notices. "Sorry... 'm not really feelin' all that great right now..."

"No, that's alright." She removes her hand from his side, choosing instead to rest it against his cheek as she readjusts herself so she's eye-level with him on the pillow. "How selfish of those witches to keep you out so late on a school night..." Its at this point she notices the puffiness and how red his eyes are. "You look like you've been crying... Is everything alright?"

He just shakes his head. Mammon wants so badly to tell her what happened to him the night before- the real reason he got home so late, but unsurprisingly, no words come out. He just closes his eyes, letting himself relax under her gentle touch. "I'm jus' really tired s'all."

"I believe it. You only got a hour and a half's worth of sleep. Would you like to just stay home all day, just the two of us?" Arella moves him so he's resting with his head on her chest.

"That's sounds.... nice," he hums quietly, so close to falling back into the clutches of sleep.

"Alright then. Go on and go back to sleep," She kisses the top of his head, carding her fingers through the soft, fluffy locks the other hand rubbing small circles in the center of his back. "I've got you."

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

This carried on for months. The witches would summon him and as long as he complied with their wishes, they would hold his secret. By the third time, he would check out- let his mind escape to anywhere but the present until it was over. It became a vicious cycle. They would call, he would go to them, and then he would crawl into his bed for maybe an hour or two before forcing himself to get up for classes that he often fell asleep in. After the tenth, once they had finished with him, he asked why they were doing this and they told him.

“We desire something to bind you to us for the rest of our lives.”

“A child.”

The demon’s eyes widened at that. Never in his life had he been so opposed to the idea of having children. In fact, just before all of this happened he had been daydreaming about what his children with Arella would look like if they were ever so fortunate to have any but a child with one of the witches? It made him sick. A half-demon born from a demon of his status had a high probability of killing its mother- one who he would then have to raise. How could he explain that to his brothers- to Arella? The very thought filled him with dread. How could he ever bring himself to care for a child conceived from a crime? A child that would always be nothing but a constant reminder of the worst nights of his life. They didn’t deserve a life like that.

And so Mammon did the only thing he could think to do: he fled. He ran back to the Devildom, back to House of Lamentation as fast a his legs would carry him. He crashed through the doors of the house. Never had he been so greatful to be the first one home. As he climbed the steps up to his room he vowed to himself never again. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted, consequences be damned.

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It had been six months since his last encounter with the witches. There was nothing on their end- absolute radio silence. Part of Mammon wondered if they'd gotten what they wanted from him after all. Everyday was filled with the anxiety of not knowing. His nightmares had gotten worse. Most of them were based around those nights he'd spent with them, others involved everyone finding out a one-sided version of what had happened, all spun in the favor of the witches. He dreamed of Arella leaving him, heart-broken from the implication that he would stray from her and running into the arms of one of his brothers. The worst ones- the ones he would wake up from covered in a cold sweat in the dead of night- consisted of him standing in the witches' home, the sounds of screaming, the smell of blood, the piercing first cries somewhere between the call of a demon and the screams of a human baby infecting his senses. It all felt too real. It felt like a crushing weight on his chest.

Over this time, Mammon had grown distant from both his brothers and Arella, hardly spending anytime with them. He fell apart. The grades he worked so hard to pull up had taken a nose dive, he was hardly eating- choosing only to consume just barely enough to sustain himself. He no longer slept for fear of the nightmares and he instead threw himself into side jobs that would keep him out of the house well passed curfew as well as earn him plentiful amounts of grimm. He couldn't go on like this much longer.

Everyone was worried for him. None of them had ever seen the Avatar of Greed in this manner and the gradual change in his demeanor alarmed them. Despite everyone’s best attempts, Mammon hardly smiled anymore. He just simply didn't seem to enjoy all of the things he once did. They all knew something was wrong but when asked the white haired demon would shrug it off, say he was fine when he very obviously was not. Everything came to a head the night Mammon collapsed, finally falling victim to exhaustion and hunger.

It was after this that Lucifer called the family to a meeting while Arella sat with Mammon in his room as he slept fitfully.

"What do we do, Lucifer?" Asmo seemed distraught with fear. "Our brother is suffering from something and we don't even know where to start in trying to help him."

"We have to get him to talk somehow," Satan quipped, "Perhaps Arella can-"

"If this were any other situation, I would suggest it but right now, I don't think that's a very wise move. If she forces him to talk it could very well damage the bond they share." For the first time in thousands of years, Lucifer didn't know what to do. Whatever was causing this shift in personality was eating away at Mammon. "We'll try to think of a way to fix this- to find out what happened to our dear brother. So let's start at the beginning of all of this. What do we know about what he was doing before this happened?"

"Well, Levi started, "He was getting called up by those witch sisters with more and more frequently. I heard him come home super late- like early morning hours late..."

"And after that is when he practically stopped eating." Beel chimed in.

"And he was having nightmares almost nightly, afterwards." Belphie nodded. "I did my best with my powers to look into them but there were so many mental blocks that he subconsciously put up, I couldn't see or hear anything very well and what I could see didn't make a whole lot of sense. They weren't very clear, but they had something to do with the witches... and I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt associated with them."

"Then obviously something happened while he was with them," Satan said, brow furrowed. "But what that may be, we won't know until he talks."

"Asmo, I see the look on your face." Lucifer called out to the Avatar of Lust. "Is there something, you'd like share with the group?"

Everyone's eyes were locked onto Asmodeus as the demon sat with a contemplative look on his face. He was very slowly starting to piece together what had been going on.

"Not yet, but I may have a hunch." He finally said. "Mammon has a pact with these women, correct?"

Masterlist 2

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