#still though i hear stories about people who get their wisdom teeth removed

[nobodyfamousposts]

The Wisdom Teeth Reveal

Alya visits Marinette after she gets her wisdom teeth removed.

Warnings for angst. Angst. ANGST. ANGST.

...No one said the reveal was going to be a good one.

____________________________

It was supposed to be funny.

When Alya had learned Marinette would be getting her wisdom teeth removed, it had sounded like the perfect opportunity for some fun. People under the effects of the medication were usually suggestible and easily fooled. It would make for a hilarious prank. She could record it and share it with Marinette later once she was recovered. They would have a long laugh over it.

People did it all the time. So it was supposed to be okay, right?

Besides, Marinette was a good sport. She never complained about the things Alya posted about her to Instagram, after all. Regardless of what any of those lame self-righteous naysayers claimed. Besides, she gave Marinette permission to do the same to her, so that was fair. Those people didn’t know what they were talking about. 

And this would just be another bit of harmless fun to add to the mix.

Oooo! And what if she got video of Marinette confessing her feelings for Adrien! People on the medication were often noted to lack a filter. Maybe she could use this to help her bestie. She could get Marinette to admit her feelings and then show the video to Adrien! It would be perfect!

Alya chuckled to herself as she made her way to Marinette’s room, giving a brief reassurance to Sabine as she told Alya that Marinette was resting and not to bother her too much. Not like recording for prosperity was really anything too strenuous.

Sure enough, when she made it into the room, Marinette was on her bed sleeping. And completely out of it. It wasn’t any trouble getting her to wake up and acknowledge Alya’s presence. No more than it was to have her camera out and at the ready.

“Alya...m’tired.”

“C’mon, Marinette! You need to wake up!”

“I want to sleep.”

“You need to answer a few questions first.”

“But ‘m supposed to rest?”

“Your mom said it was okay.” Well, technically anyway. “Really?”

“Yes. So you have to.”

“Oh. Okay...” Marinette frowned, unhappily but forced herself into a sitting position.

Alya grinned, gleefully.

“So Marinette, what do you think of everyone in our class?”

Marinette smiled. Or at least as much as she could with the gauze. “They’re great. I l’ve ‘em lots.”

“Aww.” Alya cooed. “We love you too, Marinette.”

Marinette looked at Alya in surprise, her eyes welling up with tears. “Really?” She asked. Like this was actually a surprise.

“Of course!”

And...oh. Yeah, she was crying now. And wiping away the tears that kept coming. “I wasn’t sure.” She sobbed. “Cause...cause we’ve all known each other for years but we’ve never been close. I mean, Chloe bullied me all the time and no one ever said anything. They just sorta...let her.” She hiccuped. “This is the first year any of us actually hung out or anything. And everyone has been so nice and I was scared.”

She wiped her nose. “S’why I do so much. And take on all the requests. And became Class Rep. Cause I want them all to like me and ‘m scared they don’t. Or they’ll stop. An...an maybe if I keep doing things for them, they’ll like me.” She looked up at Alya, eyes red and wet. “They love me?”

Alya swallowed. “Y...yeah.”

And Marinette started crying again.

...okay, this was a bit more uncomfortable than she’d been planning on. Time to switch gears.

She had originally planned on a joke about Adrien agreeing to date her, but given how much she was crying and already worked up, Alya reconsidered. She didn’t want to dehydrate the girl, after all.

But she could still help her.

“Hey, Marinette. You love us all, right?”

“Yeah.” Marinette agreed, nodding enthusiastically for a moment before the dizziness set in and she held her head.

Alya grinned. “That’s great! So what do you think of Adrien? You love him, right?”

“Yeah...”

She had to hold back a cackle. “How much do you love him?”

Marinette hummed to herself at that. Her eyes were squinting and her face was scrunched up in thought.

Alya leaned forward eagerly, phone in perfect position to record every word.

“I wish I never met him.”

Alya’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

Marinette sniffled but didn’t answer.

“No. Come on, Mari. I need to know. You love Adrien, don’t you?”

“I do. And I hate it.”

She had stopped crying. Just...stared ahead blankly.

“I’ve...done a lot for him, y’know? I let him think my gift was from his father. I helped him with Kagami. Twice. And I don’t expect that I’m owed anything, because that’s not fair to him. But it’s just...I’ve already done so much but it’s like nothing I do is good enough. I can’t tell him how I feel without something going wrong. And he just...he never sees me. It’s like...maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me we aren’t meant to be.”

She laughed, sadly.

“But what really hurts...is how little I matter to him.”

“What? Marinette, no! Of course you matter to him!” Alya insisted, trying to reassure her.

Marinette shook her head.

“Not as much as Chloe. Not as much as Lila. It’s like...he knows. He knows what they do. An how they treat me. But...I’m still the one in the wrong for being upset about it.”

Alya frowned. “Marinette, what do you mean by that?”

“It’s like...it’s like how Chloe was leaving! She was gonna leave! I was finally free!” Marinette exclaimed, waving her arms excitedly. “Everyone was happy about it! Not just me! But...he got so upset. And...he just...was all ’poor Chloe’. And how can we be happy she was gone? I...wanted to say so much. But it felt wrong. And...did I really have to point out every horrible thing she’s done? How she hurt me an everyone else? It was obvious! But I couldn’t say it because it’d just make him feel bad for defending her. So the best reasoning I had was that she was ‘useless’ like...like that was the real problem and not that she was mean. Or that she made fun of me every day. Or stole my hat design. Or stole my diary. Or ruined my gift. Or blackmailed everyone. But it was like...he just maybe forgot? And he started a guilt trip to make me feel bad for my bully until I had to be the one to admit being wrong.” Marinette sobbed. “He never stood up for me like that. No matter what Chloe did to me.”

Alya bit her lip. Because no, she couldn’t argue that.

“What if we were dating? What would really happen, do you think? Chloe wouldn’t just let it go. Would he defend me? Or would he lecture me again and take her side? I have nightmares where we’re married and she just...keeps crashing our dates. And taking over our house. And taking Adrien away from me. And Adrien just lets her and I can’t say anything because then he’ll be upset with me.”

She leaned her head back, the picture of exhaustion.

“And I’m just so tired. I try, y’know? And no matter what I do, he never sees me. It’s like I’m being punished every time. Punished for trying. Punished for not trying. I’m like...stuck in...in....”

“Limbo?” Alya suggested, weakly.

Marinette nodded. “Yeah! I’m stuck in limbo and I just want out. Just...just let him tell me no so I can move on already. Because...cause this...this hurts.” More tears fell. “This hurts a lot.”

“So you don’t care who Adrien ends up with?” Alya asked.

“I care. I can’t not care. I just...it depends? It’s okay if it’s Kagami because I know she loves him. Cause I still want him to be happy and in a good nice happy relationship and Kagami cares about him and wouldn’t let Chloe take over. Kagami can stand up for herself better than I can. S’why I’m really jealous of her.”

Okay. This was...not what she had been hoping for. But if Marinette was okay with Kagami dating Adrien, then that meant she had no reason to be upset with Lila, right?

Marinette was clearly out of it. But her current state was only one where she lacked a filter. That meant...everything she was saying...

What was that quote? Drunk words are sober thoughts?

“So you’d be okay with Adrien dating someone else?” Alya asked.

“It’d be a relief.” Marinette muttered.

“Even if it was Lila?”

Marinette froze. The tension suddenly skyrocketed.

“Not Lila.” The words were biting despite her voice being muffled and the slurring of her words.

“Why?” Alya demanded angrily. How could she be okay with Kagami of all people but not Lila?

Marinette hummed to herself, seemingly absent-minded. Alya almost wanted to shake her.

And then...

“Lila threatened me.”

Alya froze, nearly losing her grip on the camera. “What?”

“She threatened me. In the restroom. That day she came back.”

Her thoughts were scrambling. Her mind racing to find an explanation.

“Maybe you misunderstood?” Alya suggested. Maybe Lila had been put off by Marinette’s attitude and was just warning her how she could push people away by acting like that? Marinette had been overly harsh on the girl after all.

But Marinette shook her head. “She said she tells people what they want to hear. Called everyone idiots for believing her.” Marinate curled in on herself, drawing her legs to her chest. “And then she said I could either let her or she’d turn everyone against me. Even Adrien. Though maybe I should’ve let her since he knows she’s lying and defends her anyway.”

She burrowed her head into her knees.

“S’why I was upset. Why th’ akuma came.”

Alya’s eyes widened. “Akuma? You were almost akumatized?”

Marinette nodded, still not looking up. “M’hmm. But T’kki talked to me an made me feel better so it went away. Then Lila got ak’matized.”

Who was Turkey supposed to be?

“Wait. Hold on.” Alya cut her off. “Why didn’t you tell me this happened?”

Marinette lifted her head from her knees, looking at Alya blearily. “Y’o didn’t believe me when I told you before though?”

“That was because you didn’t have proof!” Alya replied, defensively. “But you didn’t say she threatened you!”

“I didn’t have proof then either.” Marinette pointed out, strangely logical. She turned her head away to look at a spot on the wall. “But I had the story with Adrien and Ladybug. An’ how I returned Adrien’s missing book.”

“Wait—what?”

“Yeah. Cause Lila stole it. S’how I got it.” Marinette said, pointing a finger at nothing in particular as if emphasizing the point. “She threw it in the trash when Adrien came. And she showed off a necklace...said it was the Fox Miraculous an that she was Volpina. Then Ladybug came and yelled at her for lying. But...” She wilted. “You didn’t believe me. An you didn’t listen to me.”

She looked back to Alya, genuinely sad. “You never listen to me.”

Alya jerked up, taken aback at that. “Of course I do! We’re friends, remember?”

“You sided with Lila right away.” Marinette noted, glumly. “Trusted her over me. Didn’t even ask Adrien about my story just to be sure before deciding Lila was right. Or ask me about Jagged Stone to confirm her ‘kitten on the runway’ story. You knew I returned the book to let Adrien come back but didn’t take my word on where it came from? You knew I helped Adrien on his date with K’gami but still said I was only jealous over Lila because of him? Did you...even consider how that hurt?” She clenched her fists. “That I was blown off? That you didn’t trust me?”

“Well...” Alya hesitated, glancing to the side in uncertainty. “You have done some wild stuff out of jealousy before.”

Marinette blinked, staring at Alya in confusion. “I lied? I tried to hurt people? I lied about people to hurt them?”

“Well—no—I mean...” Because truthfully, Marinette hadn’t. Not intentionally or maliciously. And while there were a number of times she did hurt people’s feelings in her attempts to win Adrien’s heart, she always felt guilty for it and apologized once she realized it. She had often acted without consideration for the effects on other people, but she never acted with intent to cause harm.

She had always tried to make it up to people regardless of whether she was in the wrong. Even Chloe. So it didn’t make sense why she wouldn’t do the same for Lila.

“I know some things went too far.” Marinette admitted. “And I always apologized. But it’s like admitting I was wrong somehow meant I was always wrong. And I just kept apologizing even when it wasn’t my fault because I didn’t know what else to do.”

Marinette picked at a loose thread on her knee.

“My mind blanks and I panic a lot. And I’ve tried to do better but it feels like you don’t help with that and I have to always be the one to make up for it all.”

Wait, now she wasn’t making sense. “Marinette, what are you talking about?”

Marinette tilted her head to the side, taking a moment to think.

“During the modeling attempt with Juleka.” Marinette started, eyes unfocused as she recalled the incident. “I didn’t want Adrien there. You invited him anyway. S’wasn’t a good time. S’wasn’t a good place. But I couldn’t tell him no after he already agreed to you asking. When Juleka was upset, I tried to talk to her. And you...you pushed her out. To put me in. To force me with Adrien. I wasn’t okay with it either. It was distracting. I wanted to focus. I wanted to help Juleka. But you pushed about Adrien and put us on a time limit. We left her behind and she was aku...ak’ma...doll thingy.”

It was cute and silly and in any other situation, Alya would have laughed. But she couldn’t laugh about this.

“And when it was all over, I had to apologize. Even...even though it wasn’t my fault. Cause...cause I tried, at least? And at the end, I was the one left out cause of it. Like...like I had to make up for it all. An...an this seems to happen a lot. I think?”

“Marinette...”

“You push me a lot. I’m not ready. Not okay with it. Tell you no. But suddenly I’m there and he’s there and I feel like I have to do something because you’re watching and I know what’ll happen if I mess up. Then I panic and mess up anyway and you just...the way you look at me.” Tears started to fall again and she clenched her eyes shut. “It hurts. Like you’re disappointed and annoyed but not surprised cause you expected me to fail. But then like...why do you put me there? Why do you keep putting me there if you knew?”

She looked up at Alya.

“Is it...fun to you?”

Alya suddenly felt her mouth go dry. She couldn’t speak.

“Like...the instagram pic-tures. You got mad when people commented and said it was mean, but you never asked me how I felt anyway. I don’t complain cause I don’t want to make you feel bad but...like...you don’t know it’s embarrassing? Or you do and don’t care? I hafta watch anything I do when you’re around because I never know if you’re taking more pictures of me to post there and...you never ask.” She shrugged and looked away. “You say I can do the same, but y’know I won’t. I’d never. Cause I love you too much and...that’s what friends do, right? Look out for each other and not share things they don’t want shared? Keep secrets?”

Alya swallowed.

“But you told Nino.”

Alya flinched.

“You told him how I felt. Used him to put me in a position I will never not regret.” She gave a sob. “And I don’t know why anymore. Do you...do you like watching me fail?”

“I was...trying to help.” Alya explained.

“Then why does it hurt each time? Why do you talk down to me so much?” Marinette gripped her hair and pulled in clear agitation. “You get mad at me for talking about Adrien. You get mad at me for trying to confess to Adrien. You get mad at me for trying to give up on Adrien. I don’t know what to do to make you not mad.”

“Marinette, it’s not like that! You know that!” Alya insisted, feeling her heard pounding. In fear? In hurt? It was hard to tell.

The bluenette paused, slowly lowering her hands and relaxing her shoulders.

“Sometimes...”Marinette murmured. “Sometimes I wonder if this is how friendship is supposed to be. But...y’re the first friend I ever had. So I don’t know. And I’m too scared to ask because what if it is and you get mad and leave me? And that...everything else hurts. But the thought of you leaving me hurts more. I don’t know if it’d be worse to give up.”

Alya felt her own eyes tear up.

She couldn’t answer that. There was no answer for that.

There was a long silence.

“’M really tired.” Marinette suddenly complained. “And my mouth hurts. Is the surgery done yet?” She asked, looking up at Alya in confusion. Like the entire conversation never happened.

“Y-yeah.” Alya said, nodding her head. “They...everything just finished up. Your mom said you could sleep now.”

“Oh. Kay.” Marinette mumbled. Recognizing that she was in her own bed, she went to lay down, only struggling a little with the covers.

Alya began backing away, reaching for the door.

“G’night, Alya. Thank you for watching out for me.”

She froze, her hand on the door handle.

“Of...of course.” Alya replied.

“That’s...what friends do, after all.”

#ml fic #ml drabble #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #ml salt #alya salt #toxic friendship #adrien salt #lila sucks

[mouse-fantoms]

Wisdom Teeth

This is completely bc of @blush-and-books post, this is comepley your doing Julie gets her wisdom teeth out, Luke sticks around to help her, somethings are said

“What’s the plan for today boss?” Luke asked Julie when she came into the studio.

“Well,” she addressed her band, “looks like we’ll have the week off from practicing together since I have to get my wisdom teeth taken out.”

“Ick!” They all shared the same disgusted expression.

“Oh!” Even though one could not forget that her band mates were ghosts, it slipped her mind about their pasts. They did have lives before meeting her. They had become so improtant to her in the present that the past slipped her mind. None the less, whenever their past was mentioned, she was curious. “You guys have had them taken out?”

“Couldn’t do anything for about a week.” Luke groaned, remembering the experience.

“And Reg helped you ‘learn’ guitar because you thought you didn’t know how.” Alex input.

“Why’d you ‘help’ him?” Julie’s eyebrows knit.

“He was heartbreaken! I couldn’t just leave him to think he couldn’t.” He explained. “And then Alex was-”

“Oh if you think I compliment you all time,” Luke looked to Julie, “if Alex is under anesthesia oh he will not hold back.”

“I was out of it. My head was in the clouds.” He recalled.

“You still mean what you said about me having a perfect smile?” Luke flashed his said smile.

“Okay but I was nothing compared to what Reggie was like.”

“Oh come on guys.” He looked down, not wanting them to bring up the embarrassing memory.

“What happened?” Julie asked curious.

Alex explained, “We helped walk him out of the building and he started flirting with the cars.”

“...it wasn’t flirting.”

“You said ‘That’s a lovely shade of red, you should wear it more often’ to a convertible.”

“Okay all of us were pretty out of it.” Reggie concluded.

“Well, you guys won’t have to worry about me because Dad will be taking care of me.”

Her statement turned out to be particularly true. Julie however, might have topped Reggie’s ‘flirting with a car’ wisdom teeth story.

~~~

“How long as it been?” Luke wondered. “Since she left?”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.” Alex could tell right away.

“What?”

“She’s only been gone 30 minutes.” Reggie answered Luke’s previous question.

“And how long did ours take?”

“She’ll be out of it. She won’t be making sense.” The blond knew that wouldn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry that I’m concerned about the well being of our band mate.” Luke put a hand on his heart excusing his actions.

“Our band mate being Julie.” Reggie added how she wasn’t just any band mate.

“Fine you guys can sit on your butts while I go see how she’s doing.” Neither stopped him from poofing our because there would be no talking out Luke Patterson from checking on Julie Molina.

After poking his head in a few rooms, he finally found where Julie was after seeing two people in scrubs leave alongside someone in a white coat. He entered through the door just before they closed it. The chair was in the middle of the room, the back towards the door. He saw Julie’s head rested on her shoulder, she hadn’t waken up yet. There was a set of two chairs against the wall on the right. He took a seat in the chair that was closest to her.

Once he sat down, she started to move her head. The classic ‘I-probably-should-get-up-but-I-don’t-want-to-get-up-yet’ move. She moved her head to the center of the head rest and her eyes opened. Feeling the throbbing pain in the back of her jaw she went to feel it.

“You just got your wisdom teeth out, remember?” He reminded.

“Luke,” she said endearing, speech slurred, her head turning to him, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Wow. He was so glad Reggie or Alex weren’t in the room to see him blushing like crazy.

“Me too.” He finally found the words. “They probably went to get your dad. They’ll be back in a little.”

“It hurts.” She said in reference to her mouth.

“It should feel a little numb from where they had to take them out. You might be swollen later.” He remembered his experience. “But maybe you’ll get ice cream later that helps with the pain.”

“Ice cream!” She perked up. “Will you get me ice cream?”

It was hard not the resist the eyes that had stars in them. “I mean,” he breathed, “yeah if you... if you want me to.”

“I only want you.”

Wow! She must have been under some serious anesthesia. 

He hesitated, “You don’t,” he fidgeted in the chair, “mean that.”

It was just the anesthesia talking. Obviously.

“Of course I do.” She put her right arm down on the arm of the chair. “Why else would I decline a date with Nick?”

“...a what now?” His mouth a gap from shock.

“You and me connect in some many ways. Flynn has no idea what she’s talking about by saying you’re ‘just air’.”

He didn’t know whether to be offended or taken aback with the words coming out of her mouth, probably a bit of both.

THAT ANESTHESIA WAS REALLY TALKING!

“You and I dance way better than him.”

“...dance?”

“Yeah, when you came through the mirror when Nick and I were in dance class. Your hair all pushed back, looking goofy.” He couldn’t tell if her smile was from looking back fondly on the memory or laughing at him. “Our song was-”

“Our song?” Either the anesthesia was making her really really looping or he was hearing something he probably was never met to.

“I had to write it down considering how amazing it was. We truly are in Perfect Harmony. I put it in my dream box to get it out of my mind. Even though I don’t get why I would.” She laughed at herself.

Before he could ever find the words to say, the door opened and in came the specialists along with Ray. He poofed away into the garage feeling like he found out something he was never supposed to know.

~~~

It had been some hours later since Julie had gotten home from getting her wisdom teeth removed. It had also been a few hours since the anesthesia had worn off.

“Do you need anything?” Luke asked, hands in his pocket, at the foot of Julie’s bed.

“I already told you I’m fine.” She said, gauges in her mouth. “Dad told me to text him if I need anything.”

“But I’m asking you if you need anything. Do you want that ice cream yet?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You asked if I could get you ice cream later after I said that’s one thing that helps with the pain.”

She had a vague memory of seeing Luke when she opened her eyes.

“Just wanted to check and see how you were doing.” He excused.

“What else did I say?” She asked curious.

“Oh you know... the usually loopy things you say on anesthesia.”

“If you do get it will that make you stop asking if I need anything?”

His smile was her answer.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes though smile appeared too, “I’ll take the ice cream. Make sure Dad doesn’t see floating ice cream.”

She watched as he poofed away. He poofed into the kitchen, first checking to see if anyone was nearby. Once making sure the coast was clear he opened the freezer and spotted the tub of ice cream, he grabbed it then opened the silverware drawer and took a spoon out setting it on the lid on the container.

However, before he poofed back to her room, he had a sudden idea. He poofed to the garage, ice cream in hand slightly forgetting about it. He set the tub down on the coffee table.

“Not for you,” he told Reggie who was sat on the couch, “for Julie.”

“So that’s where you’ve been.” He heard Alex say from his drums.

He didn’t respond to the comment and instead made his way up to the loft. “Do you mind if I look for something in your bag Reg?”

“...guess not?” He replied confused.

He watched as Luke took his black backpack and upzipped the small pocket. “Ah ha!” He exclaimed pulling out a comb.

Alex moved away from his drum set in order to see Luke up in the loft.

“Wow... a comb.” He said clearly amused.

They watched as he used it.

“How do I look?” He put down the comb and extended his arms for effect.

“Like a goof.” Alex let out.

“...interesting.” Reggie answered.

“Perfect!” He went down the ladder, grabbed the ice cream on the coffee table and poofed to Julie’s room.

“Voilà!” Julie saw the ice cream container be placed next to her on bed from the corner of her eye.

“Tha-“ she looked up to thank him but was caught off guard. “Luke,” she addressed, “what are doing?”

“Was just seeing something.” He played off as he russled his hair to return it to his forehead. As he did, Julie had a sudden thought.

“...you know about Perfect Harmony don’t you?”

“I may or may not know of the existence of a certain song that’s in your dream box.”

She put a hand to her head, not believing that she let it slip.

“Also perhaps may or may not know of you declining a date with that Nick guy.”

“Did I say anything else?” She wondered if she embarrassed herself even more.

“No that was pretty much it.” He said rather quickly. “Also if you could tell Flynn the ‘just air’ comment is a little insulting and I’d rather not be referred to as that.” He said before poofing away.

Something told her that the next songwriting session between them would be a little bit different to say the least.

#I don’t think it would have taken that long for them to bring Ray back in to see Julie but leave me alone I have the power to write >:) #also had IV sedation which I recommend bc you have a very nice nap #this may or may not be accurate bc I had a very different wisdom teeth experience bc of covid #it’s seriously the best sleep you’ll have in your life #also I had like... no pain after I got them out #idk maybe I’m just weird #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp netflix #luke jatp #jatp luke #jatp reggie #alex jatp #jatp alex #luke patterson #netflix shows #julie molina #julie and luke #luke and julie #jatp juke #juke jatp #juke #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #jatp one shot #thephantomsandjulie #jatp julie #reggie peters #alex mercer #luke x julie

[aintguiltyy]

I'm sorry you're not feeling well!!! I LOVE YOU!!! For a distraction, please tell me your favorite Lesbian!Reddie HCs!!!!

Thank you bby, I appreciate it so much😭❤️

I feel like a lot of my lesbian!Reddie HCs correlate with the established ones, but I’ll try to be original. Also, I know you only asked for HCs but I basically wrote a whole ass fic bc I’m a mess and nothing can stop me😇

Whenever I think about fem!Eddie, I see a typical soft girl with cute hair bows and glittery nails, always a cherry lipgloss in her purse. Like, she’s the human version of the strawberry dress and you can’t convince me otherwise.

As for Richie, I feel like she would be somewhere between a butch and a femme. One day she can pop up to a party wearing a flannel shirt with Calvin’s showing from under her ripped bleached jeans, and the next day she’s rocking a tight black leather dress and heeled sandals.

Fem!Eddie would so be into alternative music, like Lana Del Rey, King Princess, Frank Ocean, Clairo, Billie Eilish... Can you picture Eddie being one of those girls that went to Halsey’s concert and asked her to be her first kiss? Because I can.

Fem!Richie would definitely be the “if a song is a bop, it’s a bop” type of person. If you open her Spotify, as Stefon says, this place has everything. Tyler, The Creator, The 1975, Justin Bieber, Jorja Smith... The list goes on and on. It’s because I’m flexible, she says. Well, that one time she pulled her leg trying to stretch in PE and couldn’t walk for a week would beg to differ.

As for them coming to terms with their sexuality, I have a whole list of scenarios in my head, don’t even get me started.

With Eddie, she kind of always just knew, but tried to hide it, especially while she was still living with her mother.

After moving away to college and seeing how open people were about their sexuality there, Eddie grew more confident, not shying away and locking up whenever girls apart from Beverly and Richie complimented her, but she still didn’t have enough courage to actually come out (until one day she did, but that’s another story).

With Richie, in all her life she didn’t really pay attention to anyone, never really thought twice about some guy or girl that subtly tried to hit on her. All of Richie’s attention was always focused only on her friends and maybe, just maybe, a bit more on Eddie.

It finally hit Richie that she’s not only into girls and not into guys, but into Eddie, when Eddie dragged her to Macy���s after earning her first paycheck and almost made the cashier cry because they didn’t have the right size of a dress Eddie really wanted to buy. Just watching her fuming, one second away from stamping both of her feet because the store didn’t have some low quality lilac summer dress, was enough for Richie to finally realize just how in love she was.

As for coming out, I feel like Richie would be the first to tell all of the Losers and then the rest of the world, but with Eddie, she struggled with being open about that part of herself mostly because of her mother, but also anxiety and fear of losing her only friends, even though she knew that they wouldn’t leave her if they found out she was gay, because Eddie’s seen how supportive they were of Richie.(I came up with a whole fic while writing this so if you want to see how I picture lesbian!Reddie coming out, feel free to stop by my ask box!)

The last but not least — fem!Reddie getting together.

Even though my favorite getting together trope is probably “person A walking in on person B and jumping their bones”, I wanted to throw something cute and soft in here, so enjoy 💞

Even after Richie and Eddie come out and the cats are out of the bags, they are both too scared to make a move, because just because she likes girls doesn’t mean she might like me.

So, when they do get together, it’s completely on accident.

Eddie’s teeth has been hurting for a few days now, and she, being the definition of a hypochondriac she is, makes an appointment with the dentist where they tell her that she needs to have one of her wisdom teeth removed as soon as possible.

Rchie drives her to the clinic the next day and waits for Eddie in the waiting room with shitty coffee and some pamphlet on how to avoid STDs just to be met with her barely conscious best friend wrapped in a soft blanket, slurred voice blocked by the cotton balls in her mouth and drugs in her system, and the most adorable, barely understandable comments Eddie makes during all of their way home.

When Richie lays Eddie down on her bed and tucks her in, meaning to let her rest, a weak hand reaches out and tugs on her wrist, wordlessly asking to stay. And who’s Richie to refuse cuddles with her favorite person in the world?

She lays down next to Eddie, who lifts her blanket to let Richie snuggle closer to her and instantly buries her nose in Richie’s neck, signing softly.

Richie smiles when a few minutes later she hears quiet snores, the ones she knows from two years of living with Eddie mean she’s definitely asleep, caressing the small of Eddie’s back where her hand hugs her.

She appears to be wrong though, because suddenly Eddie lifts her head and Richie almost coos at how cute and sleepy she looks, but there’s determination in those honey-brown eyes that throws Richie off-balance.

“You need to rest, Eds. Go back to sleep,” she says softly, hugging Eddie even tighter, but Eddie only shakes her head and looks into Richie’s confused eyes before demanding as seriously as she can with two cotton balls in her mouth: “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

Taken aback, Richie furrows her brows, tries to catch up with what’s happening, already thinking of a way to turn this into a joke because clearly Eddie doesn’t mean it like that. She likes girls, yeah, but she’s never shown any interest in Richie like that, like they might be more than best friends.

“Yeah. Remember that time you forgot your wallet and you were really hungry and I bought you, like, two burritos with extra guac?” Richie jokes, grinning to mask everything she’s feeling right now, from confusion to fear, but Eddie only shakes her head.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she says, and Richie tries so hard not to freak out because even though Eddie still looks so out of it, the seriousness in her voice and the words falling from her puffy lips are making her feel things.

“What did you mean, then?” she croaks, trying to read the situation, because from the way Eddie’s looking at her right now, she might, might be saying what Richie thinks she’s saying.

“That I love you. Not for those burritos, but for you,” she says and instantly cringes, and Richie barely suppresses a snort because Eddie’s too fucking cute when she’s high on medicine. “That came out cheesy and talking fucking hurts, so please tell me you get what I’m saying,” Eddie whines, and her puppy eyes have always been impossible to resist, so Richie shuts the anxiety and fear already screaming in her mind up and smiles, pulling Eddie even closer.

“I get it, Eds. I love you too.”

The way Eddie’s eyes light up at her words is almost enough to have Richie’s heart bursting out of her chest and falling right into Eddie’s hands, but a moment later Eddie furrows her brows and studies Richie before asking “For realsies? Like, love love?”

Snorting, Richie smiles softly. “Yes, Eddie. For realsies. I love love you”.

This time, Eddie actually squeaks and Richie wants to kiss her so badly, but it’s not the best idea as long as there’s an open wound in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie, as it seems, comes to the same conclusion, her half-lidded gaze falling on Richie’s lips before she sighs.

“I’d kiss you right now if this damn tooth wasn’t cockblocking me,” Eddie mumbles, burrowing her face in Richie’s neck once again, and Richie can’t hold back a delighted chuckle at this side of Eddie that only comes out when she’s not in full control of her mouth before gently kissing her on the forehead.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll have plenty of time to do just that and more once you feel better.”

“Okay,” Eddie mumbles into her neck, making Richie shiver a bit, and she feels so happy she could burst and decides that the second Eddie feels better, she’ll do everything in her power to make her feel just as happy as she’s feeling right now.

In conclusion, yeah, I have a lot of feelings about Lesbian!Reddie🥺.

#💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖 #thank you for the prompt bby🥺🥺❤️ #this turned out so soft can i please have what theyre having #my writing #fem!reddie #lesbian!reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it #reddie

[floral-and-fine]

Heaven Bent part 2

Daryl Dixon x female reader

Part 1

Summary: The reader finds Sophia lost in the woods, too bad neither of them have any sense of direction. 

A/n: Thanks for the support on part 1! Daryl is probably the hardest character I've ever written for. I've got a lot of ideas for this fic, just hoping I stay motivated. Thanks @ewokiee​ for all the help especially when I’m stuck!

You groaned, rolling over to your side and snuggling further into the covers. This had to be the softest bed in the world, with fluffy plush pillows stuffed with down feathers under your head and a thick warm blanket draped over your body. You wanted nothing more than to stay here and never leave. God, this was a million times better than cold nights sleeping on the ground, this bed was heaven, absolute heaven.

However, how you got here though was still a bit foggy, the last thing you could remember was an angel with a horse coming to save you and Sophia. Maybe this truly was heaven you thought to yourself. Either way, you were better off here than you were in that forest.

You peeked an eye open as you heard the door creak. An old man with white hair stepped into the room. There was an air of wisdom and sensibility about him.

“God?” You whispered, sitting up slightly.

The man gave you a skeptical look. “You must still be delirious,” he mused. “I’m Hershel, and this is my home.”

You nodded, taking a better look around. The room was decorated nicely, a typical farmhouse interior with white trim around the doorframe and windows. Definitely a nice place though.

He walked over to the side of the bed and looked you over. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered, stretching your arms above your head.

“Good,” Hershel muttered. “When you first got here you weren’t making a lick of sense. You and that girl were in those woods for at least a week.”

“How is she?”

“She’s going to be alright. She just needs to rest,” he explained. “Most people had given up hope on finding her, my guess is she would’ve died without your help.”

You nodded, satisfied knowing Sophia was going to be okay.“That reminds me,” you started. “Where’d my angel go?”

Hershel quirked an eyebrow. “Angel?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I was saved by an angel,” you explained, trying to remember what he looked like exactly. You recalled his wings and halo, and that he didn't quite act like an angel should.

Hershel stifled a laugh, “That man is a lot of things, but I doubt he’s any kind of angel.”

“I know, but he’s an angel to me,” You looked down fiddling with the blanket on your lap, “I’d like to thank him now that I’m thinking more clearly… I can’t remember if I did when he found us.”

Hershel nodded, “If I see him, I’ll send him this way. Trish will be bringing up something for you to eat and some clean clothes.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his before he left the room.

…

In long strides, Daryl headed towards the RV, wanting to check in real quick on Sophia and Carol.

The look on everyone’s face when he returned with her and a stranger ranged from genuine surprise to shock.

Carol ran as fast as she could, meeting him at the edge of the woods. Immediately she crumbled to her knees, crying, as Daryl placed Sophie in her arms, muttering thank you over and over again.

Other than Daryl, it seemed like no one else believed that Sophia was still alive out there, and most of them had given up on finding her too.

Daryl thought back to you, back to the way you smiled at him while you were delirious, it was an image he couldn’t get out of his head. He couldn’t remember a time anyone else ever looked at him like that.

Just as the RV was in sight, Daryl could overhear voices coming from the woods nearby. Carefully, he wandered over, curious as to who was being so secretive.

Even with their voices hushed, it didn’t take Daryl long to identify who was talking. He frowned to himself listening closer, it was Rick and Shane, and from the sound of it, they were fighting over something.

“So what? We’re supposed to take in every stray we meet?” Shane argued.

“She helped one of our own,” Rick reasoned, stepping forward. “Sophia is alive because of her. We owe it to this woman.”

“We aren’t living in that kind of world anymore,” Shane insisted, gritting his teeth.

“Take a look around you,” Rick hissed. “We’re here right now because of the decency of others, we aren’t those kinds of people, we aren’t animals, we aren’t just gonna abandon her.”

Daryl huffed as Shane tried to pull that same bullshit like he did over the search for Sophia. All that survival of the fittest crap. If that really were the case, their group would only consist of him, Rick, and Shane.

“Daryl should’ve left her in those woods,” Shane spat. “We can’t afford to have another mouth to worry about.”

Daryl clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. Shane was really starting to show his true colors, a part of Daryl was beginning to think the group would be better off without that asshole.

Rick shook his head, he couldn’t believe Shane would even suggest telling that woman she had to go, to send her back out there on her own. And now this? Did he really think so little about the lives of others?

“I don’t know what your problem is, but all that shit about numbers or math or whatever ain’t right, she’s a person, a good person… She stays. End of story.”

Rick stared Shane down, making his point crystal clear. He knew the rest of the group would agree with him if it came to the point of getting the others involved. Rick had no idea what was going on inside Shane’s head, but it was sending him red flags.

Finally, Shane scoffed and stomped away, obviously still pissed off.

Sighing, Rick ran a hand over his face, he was going to need to keep a closer eye on Shane. This wasn’t the first time he’s made Rick worry. Shane was acting unpredictably lately, and some of his behavior was off the rails, there was no telling what he might do next.

Daryl started walking back the way he came, for a hot second there it seemed like things might have gotten ugly, in which he would’ve stepped in and backed Rick up.

…

You took another big bite of the apple Trish had brought up, moaning as you savored the taste, it felt like ages since you had fresh produce.

“You can take a shower in there,” Trish explained gesturing to the attached bathroom. She sat some clean clothes on the dresser for you. “Tried to find you some things in your size, hope they fit alright.”

Your eyes widened as you processed what she just said… you could take a shower? You almost wanted to celebrate over the news. Honestly, ever since waking up it felt like you had won some kind of lottery or a free vacation. You thanked her as she left the room.

The moment she was gone, you scurried out of the bed, stripping out of the dingy clothing you had been wearing for the last week. You could only imagine how terrible you smelled, surprised anyone welcomed you into such a nice home.

Turning on the faucet to the tub, you practically squealed when the water started heating up. Carefully, you removed your jewelry, setting it all down on the sink.

You couldn’t even describe the sound you made as you stepped in under the showerhead. It was a strange mix between a sigh, a laugh, and a moan.  

A week’s worth of grime and dirt rinsed off your body and down the drain. You scrubbed every inch of yourself, wanting to make sure you took full advantage of this chance. Who knows if you’d be fortunate enough to meet anyone else with a working shower on your travels.

For a few extra minutes, you just stood under the running water, enjoying every second of warm water before finally getting out of the shower.

…

“Ah, there you are,” Hershel said as Daryl approached the house. The old man was sitting in a chair on the porch, keeping an eye on Rick’s group. “Our new guest was asking for you.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes, unsure what you’d want from him.

"She seems to think she and that little girl have a guardian angel looking out for them," Hershel chuckled.

Daryl scowled. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he grumbled, climbing up the steps of the porch.

Being inside the farm house made Daryl feel uncomfortable like he was too dirty or something. All his life he couldn’t remember being welcomed into a house this nice looking.

Careful not to touch anything, he started going up the stairs. He didn’t even dare to touch the white banister, worried that he was tracking in dirt on his boots.

He knocked on the door and stuffed his hands back into pockets.

“Come in,” you called, still drying your hair. You were grinning like an idiot when Daryl stepped in. “There’s my angel!” You announced.

"Will you knock it off with all that angel crap?" Daryl demanded trying his best to be intimidating and tough.

You giggled, setting the towel down, and approached him. Your eyes and smile were the same, the exact same as they had been the first time you had mistaken him for an angel. He’d never admit it out loud, but he liked it, the way that you saw him.

“Why? As far as I’m concerned you’re heaven sent. Without you, me and Sophia would’ve died out there.”  

Daryl turned his head away, rubbing the back of his neck, he’d be damned if he allowed you to catch him blushing.

“Anyways, I asked for you, cause I wanted to say thank you,” you explained, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder, right before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” you murmured.

Daryl scoffed, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “It was nothin’.”

You shook your head, “it wasn’t nothing.”

His piercing eyes met yours and your heart practically stopped. Just as you were about to lean forward again, Daryl cleared his throat, “you oughta put on a shirt, before going out there.”

You laughed, grabbing the white tee off the dresser, you were too distracted by Daryl to realize you were only wearing pants and a bra.

He rolled his eyes and left the room closing the door behind him. As you were pulling the shirt over your head you could hear him slowly descending the stairs muttering something to himself.

…

“You mean it?” You asked Rick flabbergasted, worried you didn’t hear him right. “Are you really saying I can stay with you all?”

“I am,” Rick nodded. “As far as I’m concerned you're one of us.”

With an excited shriek, you slung your arms around his neck in a quick hug. “Thank you!”

Rick laughed and patted your back.

You were ecstatic, when he asked to speak with alone and had pulled you to the side away from everyone, you assumed he was going to tell you that you had to go. But instead you received the best news imaginable for your situation.

As you pulled away from Rick, you felt someone watching you, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

Looking around you saw a man with a buzzed haircut who was stalking off, he hadn’t spoken a word to you or bothered to introduce himself, but you heard the others refer to him as Shane. His body language was very aggressive, he was definitely pissed about something.

Once he was out of sight, you rubbed your arms up and down getting rid of the goosebumps that had appeared and made a mental note to avoid that man as much as possible. Whoever he was, he was giving off some serious bad vibes and nothing good was going to come of it.

“Did he tell you!?” An excited voice screeched, snapping you out of your stupor. Two thin arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tightly.

You laughed, “he did!”

“So that means you’re staying with us, right?” Sophia asked, practically squeezing the life out of you.

“Yep.”

Looking up from Sophia, you saw her mother standing nearby, a soft smile on her face as she watched the two of you.

You gave her a small wave, before returning Sophia’s hug.

…

You settled into a routine with the group rather quickly, helping out with whatever you could from laundry to going on runs with Glenn. They were all friendly people for the most part with the exception of Shane.

Anytime the man was around, it put you on edge even with the others around. It seemed pretty apparent that he didn’t like you much, he’d seem perfectly fine until he noticed that you were nearby. All you could hope for was that he wouldn’t try to persuade Rick to force you to leave.

You were humming a random song to yourself while hanging laundry on the clothesline. It was a good day for it, plenty of sunshine and even a nice breeze, these clothes would dry in no time.

Reaching down into the wicker basket, you pulled out a white t-shirt, as you were pinning it to the line someone grabbed your forearm.

You gasped, where the hell did Shane come from?

“Shane,” you stuttered, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. “You scared me.”

He looked down at you, his eyes full of hatred towards you. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

You furrowed your brow, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” He snapped, shaking his head. “Not everyone is capable of surviving this… you’re weak…”

You shrunk back, worried that whatever you did or tried next would only set him off.

He took another step forward, “I’ll be damned if I let you risk it for the rest of us.”

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he came out of the woods. His grip on his crossbow tightening. Your body language alone was enough for him to notice that you were uncomfortable.

“Hey!” Daryl shouted. “Thought you wanted me to teach you how to skin an animal.” He held up the rabbits he just caught.

You blinked in surprise, looking at Daryl, his expression was practically murderous as he stared at Shane, who immediately backed off, taking a few steps away from you.

“Well I ain’t got all day,” Daryl complained, gesturing for you to come with him.

Finally, it dawned on you what he was doing.

“R-Right,” you squeaked, quickly shuffling away and over to Daryl. You kept your head down, still feeling Shane’s eyes on you.

“C’mon,” Daryl said, gently placing a hand on your upper back and guiding you back towards the RV.

“Thanks, Angel,” you murmured, once you believed you were far away enough that Shane couldn’t hear you.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, turning around and giving Shane a dirty look. The next time that asshole decides to corner you like that, Daryl was going to beat the shit out of him.

Tags: @xaestheticalien​ @twdeadfanfic​ @amaroho​

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x you #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic

[a-smile-hides]

HIS LAST PRAYER - I.R.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

SUM: Lying in the dirt, Ivar’s final thoughts go to the one who had his heart as he says his final prayer.

Warnings: mentions of battle, blood, death, character death, angst (this time I did succeed), battle of York (but then a bit rewritten so it fits into the story, hope you don’t mind), seriously this one is a bit darker...

A/N: Although the battle scenes are based on what we see in the show I feel like I should warn you all for what I wrote. But still, I actually… really like this one.

__

The sounds of war could be heard from far away.

The sound of swords clashing against each other, horses neighing as they fled from the scene, abandoning their owners. The sound of men screaming in agony as their souls left their bodies and death came to them filled the area. Mixed with the heavy rain and wind that didn’t seem to stop, the sight and sound filled anyone with horror.

On the side of the battlefield, lay a broken chariot. The horse that once stood proudly in front of it and pulled its master to the battle now lay motionless before it. Slain by those that had destroyed the chariot it tried to protect. Like true cowards, four men had sneaked on the king and attacked him from behind. First, they pulled him off his wagon and removed anything that could be used as a weapon from his body. Then, as he was still in shock and trying to recover from his dreadful fall of his chariot, the men used all their might to destroy his chariot, making sure that he couldn’t escape. After they kicked and tortured him, the men left him to bleed to death under the pieces of wood that they used to beat him.

It was almost funny, how those soldiers just found their courage and attacked him, right when he had pierced their king’s heart with his arrow.

Ivar laughed at the thought. Had they found their bravery a bit sooner, then they wouldn’t have lost their king. The only one who fuelled their beliefs in being able to win this battle. Without him, Ivar knew they had won another battle. Right now, his forces were slowly winning ground, slaying one soldier after the other.

Ivar tried to fill his body with that good thought and forget about the throbbing pain in his left shoulder, where one of those cowards stabbed him with a sword. He gritted his teeth when another nasty wave of pain went through his body, making his vision go blurry. Not one of his soldiers, not even one of his older brothers had come to his aid yet. But maybe it was better that way. Like this, they were able to finish their fight, win this battle and conquer a new land. Like this, he would be remembered as a great king. One that fought alongside his men and died with them. One that was a true hero and would live on forever because of stories that would follow when one spoke of his name.

Real heroes never die, right?

Ivar chuckled as he heard your voice say those words. He quickly took in a deep breath when another wave of pain went through his body, but allowed himself to be warmed when he thought of your sweet voice whispering those words to him when he decided to go with his father on that cursed journey.

You had sat beside him in the great hall when he had agreed to go with his father to England. Not muttering a word of objection. Never expressing your worries. It was when you were sitting next to him on the beach, looking at the men that Ragnar had bribed preparing the ship, that he had told you about his mother’s prophecy. And even though he didn’t show it, you heard the fear in his voice when he mentioned the storm. You had fallen silent after the news, not knowing what to say. Until you surprised him with your words of ‘wisdom’. 

***

“Real heroes never die, right?” you muttered softly.

Ivar snorted, looking towards the ships again. “Since when have you come to that conclusion?”

You let out a breath, hiding your face behind your hair.

“Real heroes never die. Isn’t it so in all the stories and legends Floki told us when we were children?”

Ivar nodded his head.

“You’re a loyal man, Ivar. Never have you betrayed your father nor said a foul word about him. You crawl around in the dirt, but your head is held up high. Your mind can think of great things no other will ever come across. One day, you’ll be great Ivar. You’ll be feared and hated for sure, but many will find you great.” You sighed, turning your head towards the man beside you who looked back at you with widened eyes. “It isn’t your time yet, Ivar. You will return to Kattegat. And after you have lived your life and conquered the world… Your name will live on forever.”

Ivar looked ahead of him again, not saying anything. His shoulders were just as tense as they were when you approached him, his face still showed that scowl that had been there his mother told him about his evident death. You closed your eyes, thinking that your words probably caused more harm than good. Placing your hands next you, you stretched out your legs and prepared yourself to stand up. Maybe it was better to leave him by himself with his thoughts.

Until a warm hand stopped your movements. A blush warmed your skin as he slowly weaved his fingers through yours. His gaze was still pointed at the ship before him, but a small smile now evident on his lips.

***

Ivar breathed out a laugh as his mind went back to that moment. After he had returned to Kattegat, he got lost in the mission to revenge his father. But still you stayed by his side and went along with the brothers to kill King Aelle. It was like he had a shadow who never left him. But he didn’t mind it. As you were the one person who he could always lean on.

Until that battle in York.

***

You were amongst the many men and women who had to climb up the walls of York and open the gates for your comrades. It was shocking at how easily those soldiers guarding the walls were slain. As you stood on the top of the walls you laughed heartily as you saw Ubbe skilfully navigate himself to the gates. Once he reached it you used the reflection of the few beams of light the sun managed to get through the clouds on your sword to signal Ivar. You saw him nod your head at you. With that, you quickly got down the wall, wanting to be in the action once Ubbe opened those gates.

As you finally got down, you saw Ivar on his chariot screaming and doing everything he could to make his horse go faster. His brother Hvitserk was right by side, a wide grin on his face, ready to go into battle.

Chuckling at the two boys, you walked beside Ubbe who watched his fellow Vikings run into the city, slaying everyone that came across them. Nodding your head at him, you ran forwards too, stopping only when a man charged at you. Your goal wasn’t to get the highest kill count right now, it was to get back to Ivar.

As you turned a corner, you saw everyone gathered before a building. All of them looking eagerly at the big, wooden door. Ubbe walked forwards, stopping at Ivar’s chariot before walking towards Hvitserk. As they met in the middle of the crowd, you hopped onto Ivar chariot. Mirroring his smirk once one of the men opened the doors.

A low murmur that sounded like a prayer in a language you didn’t understand, came from inside, making you roll your eyes. Until suddenly, a scream echoed through the city. Somebody had finally discovered that you were all paying them a visit.

Immediately after, chaos followed. All who could, entered the church, using their weapons to stab the men or women that stood before them. Hvitserk slashed his sword against a man lying on the ground, screaming in his face. People were running around, screaming and praying. While you and Ubbe slowly entered the church, Ivar crawled in. An evil smirk plastered on his face. Clearly, he was much more comfortable in this mess. On your left, you saw Hvitserk get under the skirt of one of the women, Ivar laughing at him as he passed them. Feeling nothing but disgust for the scene in front of you, you pulled Hvitserk of the poor woman, who ran away as soon as his presence left her. He turned around angrily but held back his shout of annoyance once he met your hateful gaze.

You looked up once you heard Ivar scream, fearing that he might have hurt himself. But once you found him between the mess of slain people, you wished your eyes had never set on him. Ivar had the bishop of this city pinned under him. He laughed evilly at the man as he took the small cross in his hands. Shaking your head, you looked to the side helping the men and woman collect all the valuables.

As almost all of it was collected, most of the men went back inside the church to see what would become of the bishop Ivar had captivated. Even if you were a Viking and had slain countless of men on the battlefield before, this was too much. A battle wasn’t the same as what had just happened in here. Inhaling deeply when you heard the man utter out his last prayers, you entered the church again. Just in time to hear Ivar say “Now you can kiss your cross” before letting his men pour melted gold into the bishop’s mouth. Just in time you averted your eyes, but the gurgling sound still filled your ears.

Your nose scrunched in disgust as the mangled corpse of the bishop passed you, being dragged forward by the horse Ivar had demanded. With a scowl on your face, you marched towards him, stopping right before him. A grin was plastered on Ivar’s face. He looked proud of the damage he had done.

As he stared up at you, his heart fell when he saw the disappointment in your eyes, shielded by the angry scowl on your face. You always stood beside him, openly supporting and defending him with all your power. But tonight, you had seen a sight of him which you didn’t like. And Ivar knew it. He saw it all in your eyes. But he ignored the pain in his heart and smiled. A soft chuckle passed his lips. Soon another followed as he pressed his axe against the side of his head. You turned your back to him, walking away as fast as you could as he kept on laughing wickedly.

***

Ivar groaned at that memory. Ever since that moment, he felt like he had lost you. You were repulsed by his actions and kept your back at him for a while. And he hated himself for not picking his ass up at that moment and get you back.

For a life can end with a blink of an eye.

***

You were fighting alongside Ubbe in the streets of York. Ivar had done it again. Everything was going to plan as good as one could hope for. With Ubbe on your side, you ran forwards attacking every man that dared to cross your path. As you came to an open place, your eyes widened when you saw Ivar in the middle of it covered in blood, leaning against his chariot. Armed with only one axe. He screamed at the men in front of him, who for some reason stood frozen still in front of him. No one seemed to dare to step closer and go for the easy kill. You stepped out, even if Ivar and you weren’t on great terms at the moment, you still cared for the man. But Ubbe stretched out his arm, stopping you. As the other part of your army arrived, Ubbe demanded them to wait. You looked at him confused, watching how Ivar still sat there alone, challenging the men in front of him.

Slowly Ubbe stepped forward, before he finally shouted the order to attack the Christians.

Immediately you ran towards Ivar’s chariot, standing protectively beside it blocking any soldier that came towards Ivar. You screamed at a few men around you, forcing them to form a shield wall around him.

Ivar grinned at you, before shouting at the dying soldiers in front of him again. You rolled your eyes, leaning down next to him. The both of you stared at each other, his wicked grin never leaving his face. Until he saw something in the corner of his eye. Suddenly he started laughing evilly again, tapping his hand against the side of his axe. That made you look up, where a man stood, pointing his sword at Ivar in a threatening way. You stared angrily back at the man, until an arrow suddenly pierced Ivar’s leg. He seemed unfazed by it and quickly snapped in half. But you looked around, trying to out where the arrow came from. As you looked up, you felt your heart beat against your chest in fear once you took side of 10 archers lined up beside each other. Each of them aiming in your direction.

Before you could shout a warning, each of them took their shot. As you watched the men around you fall one by one, you pushed Ivar down on the ground.

He grunted once he made contact with the cold and harsh ground, looking up at you in anger.

“Shut it.” You whispered, before taking in a deep breath.

You smiled slightly as you saw Ivar look up at you in concern, his eyes scanning your face. As you suddenly took in a second deep breath, you let out a small whimper before resting your head against his chest. Ivar reached up, lifting your head with his hand. His head shook lightly from side to side, hoping that it wasn’t what he thought.

But Ivar wasn’t a fool.

He knew once he saw your lips form a small, apologetic smile, that what he feared was true.

“Real heroes never die.” You muttered, before going limp against his chest.

***

His eyes had filled themselves with tears when he relived that moment. Once you had closed your eyes and leaned your head against him, the young man had let out a painful roar, alerting his brother Ubbe of the situation. He was the one who had taken your body of him, but he couldn’t convince Ivar to move. He had stuck by your side for the remaining time. As he should have from the start.

After that, all things had gone sour. He had quickly found a new girl, marrying her when he went back to Kattegat. Blinded by his grief and the love he felt from her, he let her poison his mind and destroy everything around him.

It was only many years later that his mind became clear again, when Hvitserk was fed up with Ivar’s behaviour and dared to speak your name in his presence. The name had become a taboo in time. The memory too painful for the young king.

It was then, the moment Hvitserk shouted your name at the top of his lungs, that his eyes had finally opened.

And even though Freydis tried all her tricks to convince Ivar of her goodness, the man had seen the truth. And most importantly, the wreckage that had become of his kingdom. He had banished her from the grounds, leaving her to die in the woods.

Ivar had become a king again. Not a puppet in her petite hands. He made sure his people had food again, made great trading agreements and send out raiding parties. And after a while, Kattegat became healthy again. In such a way that Ivar decided to conquer again, together with the aid of his brothers Hvitserk and Ubbe.

But the king of Kattegat had made his final move. Ivar knew this battle would be his last. He knew it would end in a victory for him, but he would not be able to see that happening.

His eyes were closed as he uttered out a last prayer to Odin. He didn’t ask for his name to be spoken of for many generations. Nor did he ask for his brothers to truly forgive him for all his wrongdoings. In his last prayer, he spoke only about one person. The woman that had been on his mind since she left him alone on the battlefield. Since she died saving his life.  

As he finished muttering his words to the all father, he opened his eyes again. His vision was blurry, but the smile on his face widened.  

“Real heroes never die”

#vikings #vikings season 6 #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar ragnarsson imagines #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar the god #ivar imagines

[disastrousxdebby]

P-=

1 - What was the last thing you watched on TV? I was trying to watch the new season of American Horror Story but, this season seems like it's a bit iffy and rough with itself. It surely didn't keep my attention like other seasons have.

2 - Do you have the heating or air conditioning on at the moment? I have a fan on at the moment.

3 - When was the last time you did something to help someone else? I tried to talk to my coworker and help her out some... however, I feel like I may have not been able to help as much as I would have liked. x.x

4 - If you have a job, have you been busier or quieter since the whole COVID thing hit? In the beginning of it... it was really crazy and busy but, then it died down when there was a limit and curfew?! Then after things started opening again... it got crazy busy again but, usually in the winter it's quiet.

5 - Do you spend more time on your own or with others? Are you happy with that? I spend more time on my own with family. I would like to go out and hang out with others eventually. More or less... find a decent significant other. I have been single for five years and it's nice but, I still would like to think as well that there is someone out there for me. x'D I am a weirdo.

6 - Do you know anyone who has been diagnosed with autism? Yeah.

7 - Have you had your wisdom teeth removed? What about your tonsils or your appendix? I have my tonsils and appendix. I am trying to get my wisdom teeth removed because they cause issues for me. So... I have an appointment in September to get a cleaning done but, I really hope they can pull the teeth out as well asap.

8 - Are you scared of needles? Yeah huh.

9 - Do you dress more for comfort, fashion or practicality? I dress more for comfort now a days.

10 - When was the last time you smoked a cigarette? I don't smoke.

11 - Would you rather drink tea, coffee, hot chocolate or water? I should be drinking more water but, I can't go without coffee sadly.

12 - Do you have a lot of ornaments around your house? If I owned my own place... x'D I would definitely have a lot of decor around it. I have as much ornaments and decor I can around my mother's place. I even stick random stuff around her home and car. This morning I made another Parasyte sticker and stuck it on the back of my mother's van. My fave characters... Migi and Shinichi ...my other fave characters from the show are Murano and Ryoko Tamiya (more so because she was a mother... even though she was a parasyte and gave birth to a human child, she protected that human child with her all. You could tell how she changed with time... is what I feel.) Also, Kana I liked her as well.

13 - Do you own more books or DVD’s? I own more books.

14 - How often would you say you took surveys? I really like taking surverys and sharing with others if they are ever curious about me.

15 - Have you ever worn a uniform to school or work? They spoke about having students wear uniforms to school but, it never happened when I was going to school. I do have to wear a uniform at work ... it kind of sucks because I am an ASM and I feel like we should be able to have a bit more freedom in our clothing choice but, good news is that ... they allow us to wear blue jeans now! [[-=

16 - Who was the first person you had a sleepover with? Are you still in touch with that person today? I think the first person that I ever had a sleep over with was my best friend Lariah and we are grown now... so we have a lot that we do in our lives. We very rarely ever get to see one another or speak anymore sadly.

17 - When you were growing up, did you have any friends who were almost like family to you? Most definitely.

18 - Could you cook an entire Christmas or Thanksgiving Dinner entirely on your own with no help from other people or recipe books? For the most part, I think I would be able to do something of the sorts but, I still would need a tad bit of help.

19 - Do you cook from scratch or do you rely more on ready meals or frozen food? I really enjoy cooking from scratch but, because my schedule is so crazy and busy most times... I have to deal with the ready made stuff or frozen. x.x On my days off though... I tend to cook dinner sometimes and make that from scratch.

20 - What’s your favourite type of fast food? Is it something you eat often? I try to stay away from fast food however if I am out and about it's mostly burger king that I am grabbing and eating. x.x

21 - If you’ve been under a lockdown or stay-at-home order, what did you find the most difficult about it? I wish I could be under something of sorts sometimes.. I would have more time to craft. Aha... as long as I am getting paid for it and eventually I could go back to work. I never had a "pause" from work. I even got a letter stating that I was allowed to be out past the state's curfew because of work and being "essential".

22 - Do you still buy or read any magazines? Sometimes. The last two magazines that I brought were a health one and another one about sleep studies. I'm a geek or nerd. x.x

23 - As a teenager, what did you spend most of your pocket money or allowance on? Definitely food.

24 - Do you have much of a sweet tooth? Sometimes. I don't eat a lot of sugar often... but, I do have moments where I eat a lot of gummies and recently I tried chocolate covered roasted coffee beans and they are really yummy too.

25 - Are there any common “popular” foods that you don’t particularly like yourself? Have people ever told you you’re odd/strange for disliking that particular food? Mayo on sand. Peanut Butter and Jelly (ever two blue moons I may eat one of those sand.) I really don't favor any kind of mayo on my sand. unless it's a gas station made sand. it has to have extra oil and vinegar on it with the mayo and not just plain mayo but, for a sand it's just usually meat, cheese and the bread for me. I have been told I am pretty odd for such a thing.

26 - Likewise, are there are any commonly hated foods that you love? I guess frozen tater tots if that counts...haha...

27 - Would you rather eat pizza or pasta? Pizza.

28 - Do you own a lot of store loyalty cards? Nope.

29 - When was the last time you read a newspaper? A while ago.

30 - What kind of noises can you hear around you right now? My family. <3

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

only angel - roman godfrey

roman godfrey x reader

title from the harry styles song of the same name

disclaimer: i’m not trying to distract from what’s going on by posting my work. that would never be my intent. times are trying, and i’m simply trying to provide some sort of entertainment or something to do with your time. i’m not fishing for any praise of any kind, i’m just putting my work out like i usually do. i love you all and please stay safe.

notes: in other news, if you haven’t noticed, i have a posting schedule now. it used to be every friday somewhere around midday, but that wasn’t really doing much with the algorithm, so i changed it to midday thursday. and i’ll be taking a week off next week bc i’m getting my wisdom teeth removed then. (which i’m incredibly anxious about) so if i go awol for a little while, that’s why. 

also, i have almost no knowledge of alcohol! and i don’t drink! so if i don’t have some commonly known drink or bartender knowledge, please forgive me.

***********

“i’ll take an old fashioned, please.” a woman asked politely, flashing her pearly whites.

“one apple martini with no olive,” a man requested.

“can i get a scotch on the rocks?” a man with a gruff voice asked. 

you were new to this job, but you had a bit of experience, both on the bartender end and the bar attender end. you quite liked this job; the customers were fairly friendly, and you were in a much less seedy part of town than the last dive bar you worked at. you didn’t mind it, though, it gave you your thick skin, something you need in a profession like this. 

you also liked this job better because you weren’t alone. this joint in particular had more bar space than seating space, so they commissioned two bartenders to work instead of just the one. the first few days you were a little rusty, not having worked in a while, but the two of you quickly got into the swing of things. 

his name was roman godfrey, heir to the godfrey fortune, who had a much different story on how he became a bartender. coming from such a wealthy family, he of course inherited the highest position at godfrey tower, which he quickly realized was way too much work for him to handle. roman had transformed from a spoiled rich brat to someone who had more respect for people who actually had to work to keep themselves afloat, and you’d say it changed him for the better. 

somewhere along the line he’d developed a respect for women, too, probably coming from some prior bartending experience. you admired him for that, mostly because you’d hate to work with the man he used to be. 

another reason you enjoyed working with him so much was the fact that his name was so well known across the entire state of pennsylvania that nobody really liked to fuck with him. they’d much rather stay on his peaceful side, because some, more than others, had seen his aggravated side before and were not too terribly inclined to see it again. this came in handy for you when a situation similar to tonight’s had arose.

it was a stormy night, much like many spring evenings. the bar was packed tighter than usual since it was raining much too hard for anyone to leave. it was nearing last call, and you and roman were trying to close up, much to the dismay of the customers. as you were starting to stack some glasses, a greasy older man sauntered up to the bar, plopping right down on the barstool you’d just cleaned.

“i’ll take a gin and tonic, and make it snappy, i’ve gotta get home,” the man demanded, tone devoid of any politeness. “and it’d do you some good to button that up a few more times.” he gestured to your uniform that had the first couple buttons undone to show some cleavage.

“excuse me?” you stammered, flabbergasted at his frankness. you paused what you were doing, frozen in shock.

“you heard me. now make me that drink, bitch, or i’ll climb over this fucking bar and make it myself.” the man insisted.

“you have no right to say that to me.” you defended. “this is my uniform, and if it makes me more comfortable to unbutton it, then i will. i don’t need input from people like you, and you certainly don’t deserve a drink for acting like that. we’re closing anyway, it’s too late.”

you’d handled customers like this before, but they tended to be much less blatant about their sexism and disrespect than this man was. you had started drying the glasses and putting them away at a much faster pace just to get this insistent man off your ass.

“come on, no ones over here, what’s it gotta take for a guy to get a drink?” the man’s inebriation became much more obvious now as he grabbed your forearm as you reached for another glass.

“let go of me!” you shrieked, much louder than you intended. this caught the attention of quite a few other customers and, of course, roman, who quickly made his way over to you.

“exactly what the fuck do you think you’re doing here, huh?” he growled, setting his piercing gaze on the man, who quickly unhanded you.

“i asked her very kindly if she would please make me a drink, and she said no.” he swallowed nervously, the mere presence and power seeping off of roman intimidating him.

“it didn’t sound very kind to me, man. i didn’t hear any fucking ‘please and thank you’s over here.” roman replied, trying to keep his calm with the man that he wanted to hypnotize into slamming his head on the bar.

the man stayed silent, his cocky asshole persona fading into fear at the hands of mr godfrey. roman nodded at his compliance and subtly placed a hand on top of yours on the glass you were holding.

“alright sir, if you would please kindly,” he put a strong emphasis on the word. “stop bothering my friend, get the fuck out of our bar, and head the fuck home, it would be much appreciated.”

as if entranced, the man pulled his jacket back up on his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking straight into the rainstorm.

roman looked down at you and smiled his signature grin. usually that’d have your heart melting like a popsicle on a hot summer day, but you weren’t in the mood for it. the scowl on your face told him everything he needed to know.

“why the face? what did i do?” he asked genuinely. he had learned not to skip straight to defending his actions, finding that asking what his mistake was and how to fix it was a method much more popular with the ladies.

“you should’ve let me handle that myself.” you frowned, unhappy with the situation at hand.

“what? why would i do that?” he asked incredulously. “i’m not just gonna stand by and watch that cretin of a man treat you like that!”

“i know, and i thank you for that. your heart was in the right place, but you shouldn’t have stepped in.” you began. “for the longest time, almost every profession has been male-dominated, so us women get the short end of the stick when it comes to how we’re treated in the workplace.

“men have some sort of hero complex, thinking they can insert themselves into a situation they had nothing to do with and earn praise and thanks for their help that wasn’t asked for. men think that they can start confrontations with us and expect us to be silent and complient, to just sit there and take it because we’re not going to stand up for ourselves.” you watched the expression on his face morph to one of interest. “it was my situation, my job to deal with it, and my job to handle the repercussions, should there be any.

“men are accustomed to getting whatever they want, whenever they want it, and that’s got to change, and it starts with small things. small things like me, reprimanding that man for his actions and the way he spoke to me.” you took a breath. “i’m glad you recognized something was happening, but you should’ve only stepped in had things gotten more violent.”

roman looked stunned, almost like he’d gotten a slap across the face. you shouldn’t be surprised, this was usually the reaction you got from men when you tried to educate them on the trials and tribulations of women, but something was different. rather than shocked and confused as to why you would think that, he seemed more understanding of your struggles. sympathetic, even.

he stood still for a moment, as if he was a sponge absorbing all the information you’d dumped on him. “wow, i had no idea there was so much behind that. thank you for letting me know.”

“can i..?” his question trailed off as he leaned down towards you, lips meeting yours. you melted into his embrace, the weeks of yearning for this exact moment finally catching up to you. he started to pull away, but you stood on your tiptoes and chased his lips. you both pulled away breathlessly, lips wet and pink.

“wow, that was,” the rest of your thoughts fell short, but as you looked at roman it was apparent he had the same idea, whatever that may be.

“can i walk you home?” he asked, gathering his things. you nodded up to him, smiling sheepishly as he gently placed your jacket on your shoulders.

the two of you managed to close the bar for the night and fortunately, the rain had died down enough for you to head home. roman held his umbrella above both of you as you curled into his side to escape the cold chill of the rain.

he dropped you off at your place, turning to leave before you spun him around. you hopped up the first two steps and leaned down to kiss him again, easier this time since you were at his level. he smiled against you and kissed back fervently, placing a hand on the area between your neck and shoulder for some leverage.

you said your goodbyes, heading into your house, still feeling the tingling sensation where his hand was as you smiled giddily.

**********

ignore the ending i cant write endings it’s a problem

the feminist jumped out a bit sorry not sorry

i wrote almost all of this last night bc inspiration suddenly struck and i had to take advantage of it and this turned out waayyy longer than intended oopsie

tags: @emmyrosee @jadelynlace @copper-boom @babyboy-cody @goblincxnt @hecohansen31 @skrsgardspam @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @little-grunge-flowerz @manicpixiedreamguurl

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey oneshot #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey hemlock grove #hemlock grove #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård character #my writing

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 13- Wessex

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2877

Warnings: None I don't think.

AN: I hope I don't disappoint anyone with how this chapter starts 😅😅 Slooooow Burrrrrn.

12- Northumbria

...

Her head hurt.

It was a pounding that rattled the side of her temple that seemed intune with her heartbeat. 

She couldn't sleep.

Whenever she closed her tired eyes, Bjorn's bloody knife tortured her. It was one of the many more tragedies she knew was to come.

She would be lying to say her lack of sleep that night had nothing to do with the heathen nestled within the furs beside her. Like her, he did not rest easy. He was in pain, she could hear it in the small grunts mutterred in his sleep. She was almost sure that his brows were knitted in that look he couldn't hide on particular days when he struggled with pain. 

Sighing internally, she removes herself from the comfort of the furs to light a candle, bringing it up to the bed. Ivar's broad back was suddenly illuminated, his muscles expanding with every breath he took. 

She watches him for a while, wondering how the Ivar in the daytime was the same one that slept fitfully beside her. He looked harmless, curled up on his side with bedridden hair. He even pouted in his sleep. It was almost enough to make her smile, but she refrained from doing so.

His legs were exposed from under the fleece, heavily covered in thick trousers. Sometimes she wondered what his legs might look like underneath all that fabric. Thin and frail, perhaps, from lack of use. For obvious reasons, she was never to be near when he bathed or dressed, his legs being a vulnerability that he didn't want her or anyone else to see.

Artemis didn't blame him. 

Carefully, and with subtle movement, she crosses her legs bringing the flame to hold between her hands. She supposed she had Ivar to thank for...whatever it is he did for her. He was being uncharacteristically kind, though she knew the only reason was his newfound use of her. She had much more to offer than the average slave, and now there were certain expectations of her. 

She must serve this heathen army, the people who will continue to murder others that she was connected to through Christ. But even so, Ivar treated her in the best way he could. Somehow, he came to tolerate her. 

She brings a hand to the golden cross hidden in her bodice, tugging at the string that kept it round her neck. It felt so much more significant to her now than it did before. Her traitorous thoughts caused her cheeks to blaze like a bad sunburn.

Her eyes lingered over him once more before sliding from the bed and onto the moist ground. She needed to pray and ease her mind, and perhaps she would receive an answer. She begins to recite.

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth at it is in heaven,"

Ivar's eyes snap open at the intrusive words, hand already gripping the hilt of his dagger under his pillow. He looks out over his shoulder, immediately noticing the empty bed side before rolling his body over to the other side. Pushing the furs aside, he peers down over the edge of the bed to find his thrall on her knees in a Christian prayer.

He blinked his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the candle beside her, getting a better view of her muttering lips. It took him a minute to realize her babbling was in Greek.

"Give us this day, our daily bread, and-"

"What are you going on about?" Ivar interupts, sitting up on his elbows to rub the sleep from his eyes. Artemis looks up at him as if she were caught stealing something of value. He notices the dark hues under her eyes.

"Were you praying?" He asks in exaggerated disbelief. He's never seen her do that before.

"...Yes." 

"Why?"

"I could not sleep." She replies sheepishly, lowering her hands to her knees to scrape at the fabric in her nervousness.

"And so you decide to pray," Ivar replies flatly, rolling his eyes before flopping back onto the bed, "After all that I have been teaching you?" The whole journey to England was spent teaching her of his gods and their stories. Clearly a waste.

"I have been learning," She insists, bringing her hands to the edge of the bed, shyly leaning in closer to him, "But I am still a Christian." Ivar sucks his teeth in utter displeasure.

"Perhaps you are delusional," He mutters, "A delusional girl who believes in fairytales." She wastes no time in moving away from him. She wouldn't say that his beliefs sounded like fairytales, though it threatened to leak from the very tip of her tongue. She decides to occupy herself instead, standing to light the candles around the tent as a distraction and to put much needed distance between them.

"What were you praying for anyway?" He asks curiously, stretching his upper body as he watched her move about. As usual, Artemis takes a moment to respond, until finally going over to the candles at his bedside , lighting the up wicks. The flames immediately lit up her sour features.

"Wisdom." She reveals.

"Wisdom." He repeats. 

"Yes." Artemis lowers herself again onto her knees, leaning against the makeshift bed. She refused to look at him, merely staring into the little flames as she often did. Ivar teasingly pokes her temple with little force, just enough to make her head sway.

"You have many things running rampant in there, hm?" 

"It seems I am plagued by my own thoughts." She agrees dully.

"What worries you so?" Ivar demands, "Do I not treat you well?"

"Of course, you treat me well," She drags her her eyes to his, "And I am grateful, but I am afraid these are matters of the heart." Ivar purses his lips, his mood quickly souring.

"Matters of the heart?" He chuckles darkly, "Is it Arvid's marriage that ails you?" He then snorts unbecomingly, crossing his arms as he feels jealousy's grip around him like iron chains. She looks at him with an odd expression that he couldn't read.

"That is far from the torment that ails me." 

"Then what is it?" He demands again. He watches her struggle to form her words, a hint of fear rising in her eyes at exposing herself.

"My path," She says, "My path is uncertain."

"The gods led your path right where we need you," He grunts, "You have purpose here with us."

"To support those who have forced me into slavery?" She was over stepping her boundaries again. That annoys him.

"Your purpose is to aid our army. Your purpose is to aid me," His words were forceful, "We have discussed this already, Artemis."

"Of course, Prince Ivar." She replies bitterly. She was just a tool to be used. Perhaps she should be grateful. Her use would not be in bed like so many others have been subjected to.

"Yet, you are not pleased." Ivar notes with a tired sigh, running a hand through his thick hair. 

"With respect, Prince, it pleases no one to be a slave." 

"Freedom is earned," He stresses, "And you have not yet earned it." Ivar notices the weak sunlight filtering into the tent, hearing the sounds of warriors waking and mingling within the camp. It was nearly sunrise. He removes the fleece blanket from over him, swinging his buckled legs to dangle off the edge of the bed.

"Help me dress. Go to Arvid and see to whatever needs to be repaired. We leave to Wessex by midday." 

...

Men were childish. 

Arvid was in no talking mood, still fuming over the events of the previous day. She'd try to make simple conversation but found it difficult to engage him, so after a while she left him alone with his thoughts after completing her duties.

The rest of the morning was spent preparing their departure, and by noon they marched towards Wessex. 

The journey was short, and the warriors passed the time by singing some kind of folk song she didn't really understand. After a long debate, Ivar allowed her to travel alongside Helga and Tanaruz. She was happy to sit beside the older woman and the young girl on a horse drawn cart led by Floki.

Helga recounts the stories of the Valkyries, warrior women that take men fallen in battle into Odin's hall in Valhalla to dine with him. She tells them of Freyja's beautiful fields, where fallen men also reside. The story was odd when comparing it to heaven, but it was still an intriguing tale to keep them entertained. Artemis attempts many times to translate them to Tanaruz, but the young girl hardly cared, her unfocused eyes glaring at the passing dirt road.

It was quiet when the army reached their destination. There was no Saxon army that greeted them, nor a single warrior to face.

King Ecbert's settlement was completely deserted.

Walking in through the gates was too easy, and all the warriors braced themselves for a possible attack, but none came. Bjorn cautiously enters, sending a few men to scout the perimeter, but once they returned safely, it was known they were victorious in a battle they had no need to fight. 

Suddenly, an old man emerged from some part of the settlement. He held his hands up in surrender, yet he appeared at peace, accepting his fate.

"It is King Ecbert!" Bjorn yells, pointing his axe as did the men surrounding him. 

Artemis scans her eyes over the so called king, wondering if all western kings were this unkempt. He wore a simple shift, long and dirty, as was his gray hair and long beard. He walked towards them with a strange smile on his face. She had never seen a proper king in person, only a portrait of the Emperor once in all his glory, the complete opposite of how the English kings have presented themselves. With no need for a fight, King Ecbert was easily siezed.

The Ragnarsons all headed inside the settlement with Bjorn leading the way as the old king stumbled along with them. Many entered the hall, warrirors stomping with glee as they held torches in pursuit of destruction. The scent of smoke and burning filled the air. 

"Go on with the other slaves," Ivar tells her, "A feast must be prepared." He grins, disappearing with the rest of his brothers.

She did as was told, moving to place pitchers of ale and platters of bread and meats on makeshift tables. Then she waited, digging her boots into the earth in boredom until she heard whispers among the crowd. Turning to the source of the whispers, Artemis's face pales.

Floki walked with his beloved Helga in his arms, her lifeless body hanging off him like a rag doll. Her heart began to thump uncontrollably at the sight, immediately noticing the blood that coated his hands. 

He walked a distance, and she sneaks away to follow him in haste, only stopping to watch as he decided on a spot at the nearest hill. Gently, he places Helga under a tree as he began to work on digging her grave. She watches for a while, waiting for Floki to have a moment to mourn his wife.

He cries, carefully placing his wife's body into the pit that he had dug for her, and once she was made ready with the little items she had brought with her, he began to sob.

Artemis's eyes swell with tears until she couldn't hold on to them any longer, pouring down her cheeks in salty streaks. She wipes them away furiously, angry at the turn of events. Helga was with her just moments ago. 

Nothing good came from coming to England, only fear and broken hearts. 

She continues to wait until she deemed it appropriate to approach the mourning man. Quietly approaching the scene, she kneels beside Floki. She glances at him but he doesn't utter word, nor make any indication of acknowledging her presence. He only stares at his dead wife who looked quite comfortable in her new home. Artemis notices her skin had already changed from its healthy glow to a sickening gray, her body quick to deteriorate. 

The wound was over her heart, quickly patched over by Floki in haste to stop the blood. Artemis did a sign of the cross, to which Floki says nothing, just glares down at his wife's grave with balled fists. 

"I will pray for her soul," She says to him, shifting her hair to get access to the small golden drops on her ears. Helga had always admired them, and so she decides that Helga should be the one to keep them. Cautiously, she leans forward, glancing back at Floki who still did nothing but watch her movements closely with those beady eyes. 

She carefully places the earrings beside each ear, bringing a hand to Helga's cold cheek, as if her warmth would bring life back into her. She sniffles, mentally reciting a prayer, before standing and dusting off her knees. 

"May she rest in peace." She says, quickly wiping her eyes and turning to head back to the settlment.

"Christian." Floki calls out to her, and she stops in her tracks, meeting the eyes of the grieving man.

"It was Tanaruz," He growls out, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Artemis takes in a shaky breath.

"Where is she?"

Floki snorts, releasing a hysteric giggle that emphasized his vulnerability. He then sighs, pressing the heels of his palms onto his black lined eyes before answering.

"She took her own life with the same blade." Artemis says nothing, choosing to look up towards the fading english sun. 

Tanaruz was such an ill fated Moorish child. In her melancholic ruse, she murdered the one person that had a gentle heart. 

Helga was in the hands of the Lord now, or perhaps, in Freyja's lovely fields. 

...

The crowd was boisterous, men and women clinking their cups of ale in joy. Artemis watches them solemnly. There was no room for celebration, not in her mind. She watches with heavy eyes at the festive scene before her.

She tried to distract herself with Prince Sigurd's lute playing, the rhythmic tune celebrating the death of a king laying in a pool of his own blood that leaked from his wrists.

The brothers had their celebratory meal, quite satisfied with themselves. Whatever they had sought out to do was successful.

Floki was not there to share in their merriment, to no surprise. The reckless man continued to mourn on his own. Arvid sat beside his wife, though his eyes searched for someone in the crowd. When he finally finds Artemis, he offers her a gentle smile, an attempt to an apology. He raises his cup to her, a symbol of friendship. She smiles back at in return, nodding her head in acknowledgment. 

She watches him place an arm around his wife, and she smiles up at him lovingly. It was a lovely sight, and although Artemis felt the smallest feelings in her damaged heart for the young blacksmith, she was happy for their union. Alfhild was a good woman.

Bjorn suddenly addresses the crowd, reminding them of his fathers dream. He goes on to inform them that he would not be going to push that dream forward as his true calling was to return to the Mediterranean. 

Artemis interest is peaked, watching as Bjorn gave Halfdan an embrace once it was decided that he would join in the voyage. If they were to return to the Mediterranean, would Crete be part of their plan?

The commotion happened suddenly, an argument between Ivar and Sigurd. It was nothing new of course, but she was not following their discussion to know where their harsh words stemmed from. Ivar's brow twitched in that familiar way, the angry way, and even from quite a distance Artemis could see his hand moving towards his most favored axe. 

"-You are crazy. You have the mind of a child." Sigurd's spits, standing up in a show of defiance. Ivar growls, nose flaring and brows arched. The bickering continued.

Ivar didn't wish to settle down and plough land like a farmer, he wished to raid, pillage bigger cities and conquer them, but most of all, he wanted to take charge and be a leader, something Sigurd was clearly against.

Ivar was such an ambitious youth, an impulsive one too, for in mere seconds he took his axe and hurled it, lodging it in Sigurd's ribs. 

A deafening silence spread over the entire settlement, all eyes watching as Sigurd dropped to his knees. Despite the pain he must have suffered, he found the energy to rip the axe out from his skin and tossing it aside before falling over. The madness that would ensue was inevitable, and the look on Ivar's face expressed it all. 

It was the second death of the day, though most had not realized it. Ubbe and Hvitserk kneeled down beside their brother, immediately mourning his death. 

Artemis watches in stunned silence, her hands trembling at her sides. Ivar's eyes caught her own, revealing nothing but remorse.

...

#ivar #ivar imagine #ivarfanfiction #vikings #ivar lothbrok #ivarxofc #vikings ivar #hvitserk #alex hogh andersen

[rosedavid]

Oooh you know that story prompt where a man wakes up in the hospital on painkillers and sees his wife and doesn’t remember who she is but is just STUNNED by how beautiful she is and is subsequently overjoyed to learn that they’re married??? Sounds like Tyrus to me! But like... not hurt in some horrible accident. Maybe one of them got their wisdom teeth removed or their appendix out?

This is 100% something that happens. Also, this was too good not to write a small fic for, so enjoy :) thanks for the awesome requests!!

...

Today is the day that Cyrus is finally getting his wisdom teeth out. TJ would know because his boyfriend has been stressing over it for the last few weeks. Sometimes, the two of them will be hanging out together, and out of nowhere Cyrus will ask something like, “What if they accidently remove the wrong teeth?” or “What if the anesthesia doesn’t work on me, and I’m just paralyzed during the surgery, but I’m also awake and can feel everything--?” Even though TJ hasn’t gotten his wisdom teeth out yet, he’s quick to reassure Cyrus that, no, they will not remove the wrong teeth, and the anesthesia will work just fine. 

Still, since Cyrus is the first one in their friend group to get his wisdom teeth removed, he has no clue what to expect. TJ’s had to pry him away from Reddit horror stories and embarrassing videos of people looped up on anesthesia numerous times. If there’s one thing TJ knows about Cyrus, it’s that he hates not knowing. Anything new that he can’t plan out step by step will lead to constant stressing until the event actually happens. Wisdom teeth removal is no exception. 

Despite Cyrus’s persistent efforts the morning of his wisdom teeth removal to not go, (”I have a fever! I can’t go.” “Cyrus, in what world is a temperature of 97 degrees a fever?” “...It’s in Celsius.”) he finds himself sitting in the waiting room anxiously waiting for his name to be called. Cyrus’s mother is there, as well, to act as moral support and drive Cyrus home. Cyrus’s mom also told him he could bring a friend for support. Of course, Cyrus couldn’t just pick one friend, though. Instead, he invited almost all of them. Now, Cyrus gets to wait with Andi, Buffy, and TJ himself by his side (Jonah gets anxious at doctor’s offices, so Cyrus decided not to invite him). 

“Cyrus Goodman!” The nurse calls out. “We’re ready for you.”

TJ sees Cyrus visibly tense up beside him. In order to offer some sort of reassurance, TJ smiles at him and squeezes his hand despite the fact that Cyrus has been clutching their hands together in a death grip since they first arrived. 

“It will be fine, don’t worry!” Andi reassures, hugging him. 

“Andi’s right,” Buffy agrees, joining in on the hug. “Plus, afterwards we’ll have a hilarious video to post to YouTube.”

Cyrus complains, “Buffy...you’re going to record me?!”

Buffy shrugs. “I need some sort of entertainment out of all this.”

In the end, Cyrus has to go back by himself. TJ watches Cyrus as long as he can, until the boy is completely out of sight. Although TJ wishes he could be back there to support Cyrus, he’s secretly thankful because he hates dentists. 

It doesn’t take them long at all to remove Cyrus’s wisdom teeth. Not knowing what to expect, TJ thought it might take an hour or so; however, the surgeon came out only 20 minutes later to declare that Cyrus was finished and waking up slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, TJ sees Buffy smirking evilly and pulling out her phone. 

Despite TJ’s previous reassurances to Cyrus, he feels nervous walking back. What if something happened? What if the surgery didn’t go as planned? His shoes thump against the white, linoleum floors, echoing across the halls. As they all turn the corner to Cyrus’s room, the first thing TJ hears is the steady beeping of a heart rate monitor. Next, he smells the pungent, sterilized room around him. Finally, as he enters into the room, he sees Cyrus, oxygen tube in his nostrils and eyes fluttering languidly. 

“He’ll be a bit disoriented for a while and possibly dizzy,” the doctor explains. “Everyone reacts differently to anesthesia, but when he seems aware enough, we can get him out of here.”

As if on cue, Cyrus’s eyes open all the way. Buffy starts filming. 

“Cyrus, honey, how are you feeling?” his mom asks, hovering over him protectively. TJ stands next to her with Buffy and Andi at Cyrus’s feet. At first, Cyrus doesn’t appear to register that his mom even said anything. He slowly rolls his head around the room, making eye contact with everyone. 

“Where ‘m I?” Cyrus mumbles almost unintelligibly through the thick wads of gauze in his mouth. 

“You got your wisdom teeth removed,” his mom responds, smiling down at him. 

Cyrus’s eyebrows and nose both scrunch adorably, causing them all to chuckle at him. “They took all m’teeth out?” he sniffles. “How’ll I eat baby tatrs?”

Behind her recording phone, Buffy is barely holding back her laughter. “No, Cyrus, just your 4 wisdom teeth. You’ll still be able to eat baby taters in a week or two, don’t worry.”

“Mmmhh,” Cyrus affirms, turning his head again. He meets TJ’s eyes, suddenly frowning. Unsure of what Cyrus is thinking, TJ steps forward to attempt to comfort him in some way. 

“Who’re you?” Cyrus grumbles, waggling his finger at TJ. “Mr. Scary Jock Boy.”

“It’s TJ,” he replies with a giggle, reaching forward to take Cyrus’s hand with a gentle touch. “Your boyfriend, remember?”

Cyrus blinks slowly. “You’re so pretty. Pretty, pretty boy.” He brings up their conjoined hands to touch TJ’s face. It’s probably meant to be gentle, but he actually puts quite a bit of force behind it. Then, he continues his rambling. “Hair like the sun, so golden.”

While all of this is happening, TJ can’t stop a blush from forming on his cheeks. In fact, he’s pretty sure that nothing has ever made him blush this hard before. Buffy, Andi, and Cyrus’s mom, on the other hand, are obviously thoroughly enjoying this display. 

“You’re not m’boyfriend,” Cyrus decides, using one hand to bop his nose. “Too cute.”

TJ shakes his head, bringing Cyrus’s hands back down. “I am, Cyrus. I’m your boyfriend.”

Tears suddenly well up in Cyrus’s wide eyes. “You are?! I have a BOYFRIEND?!” He shouts the last word, causing everyone to shush him between their laughter. 

“You do, even if he’s annoying sometimes,” Buffy says. 

“Woah,” Cyrus gasps softly, as if processing it all for the first time. 

Soon, the nurse claims that Cyrus appears to be awake and alert enough to leave. As per their rules, he gets wheeled outside to the car. Cyrus ends up getting too dizzy when he stands, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tries to get in the back seat with Andi and TJ. 

“’M tired,” Cyrus states as they finally get situated in the car with Cyrus sandwiched between the two of them and Buffy happily watching from the front seat. 

“We’ll be home soon, sweetheart,” Cyrus’s mom assures him. 

This doesn’t placate Cyrus. He appears increasingly frustrated, touching his numb mouth and gauze. TJ and Andi get the fun job of keeping him from agitating his mouth further. 

“I’m bleeding,” Cyrus gapes as a piece of gauze falls out. “I’m gonna DIE!”

“You’re not dying, Cyrus,” Andi promises. “Your gauze just fell out.”

Cyrus doesn’t appear to believe her, as he keeps getting more and more upset. He clings to TJ’s side, head lolling against TJ’s shoulder. 

“Teej, save me,” he whispers loudly. “She’s trynna kill me.”

“How rude,” TJ plays along, earning a glare from Andi. “I’ll protect you, Cyrus.”

“Mmh, my knight in shinin’ armour,” Cyrus mumbles, becoming steadily more and more lax against TJ’s side until he falls asleep. 

From the front seat, Buffy says, “This video is going to make us famous.”

#tyrus #tyrus fanfic #andi mack #andi mack fanfiction #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fic #tyrus fanfiction #fanfiction #buffy driscoll #tj x cyrus #cyrus x tj #surgery tw #mention of blood #anxiety tw #fluff

[martykatewrites]

The Mummy: Chapter Two The Concession

She was surprised to find Ardeth-Bey drinking tea with her father on the patio. He had removed his turban and set it carefully on the table letting the little evening breeze blow through his black curls.

He saw her and smiled, "Salaam Alaikum," he said, looking beautiful and golden as he always did. He had recently trimmed his beard, allowing her a better view of his full lips and white teeth. Why did the man have to be so damn good looking? She asked herself for the hundredth time. She remembered the tall skinny boy who taught her to ride bareback and avoid being burnt by the sun. It was the fondness she retained for the companion of her childhood that kept her from hating him but the boy had grown up so unlike the man that he often tried her patience.

"Salaam," she replied and handed her father a manila envelope. "Here it is, your concession for next year. You're lucky we spread baksheesh to the right hands, there's a Swiss archaeologist named Bernard Bruyere who was looking to get it. Next year it may not be so easy."

"Oh, that wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all," replied her father, but he only seemed to be half paying attention to her. He had been this way the past two weeks as if something was on his mind but he would not speak of it. He hadn't said anything to her about it, whatever it was, and it puzzled her. She and her father shared everything, they kept no secrets from each other, and now this.

"We won't be getting that concession for the Valley of the Kings, either. I heard that Carter cleared the corridor to the tomb he opened and found a sealed doorway at the end of it. He's waiting for Pierre Lacau's permission to open it, but I don't think he'll be patient enough to wait that long. Carnarvon is supposed to be coming for the official opening. If they find anything, if most of the tomb's contents are intact it will take years to clear it."

"Why don't you people just leave these things alone?" Ardeth asked, "Let whoever is in there rest in peace."

"Because if we don't, the looters will, isn't that right Father?" her father seemed to draw himself out of his reverie long enough to nod his assent, "What they don't want they just destroy. The artifacts in tombs are worth a fortune on the black market. There are unscrupulous collectors out there who don't care how an item is obtained. If we find something it will go to the Egyptian Museum, if a looter finds something it will be lost forever."

"Hmm," Ardeth nodded his head, "Then I suppose you archaeologists see yourself as the lesser of two evils."

"Something like that," she replied, for she did not disagree. It would be nice if artifacts could rest undisturbed in Egyptian soil, but for centuries none had. It was up to the archaeologists to win the race with the looters and preserve Egypt's heritage for posterity.

Her father rose and left the table, "I trust that now the two of you are adults you can be trusted to be left alone without fear that you will get into an argument and have to be separated." He kissed the top of Roma's head and disappeared into the house.

She poured herself a cup of tea from the old brass samovar and asked, "Ardeth, you never come to Luxor except for business I am curious as to why you are here."

"Your father asked me to come," he replied in his accented but beautiful English, "I do not care to come to Luxor but his message sounded urgent so I came."

"Maybe it is a good thing that you came. I am worried about Father; I have never seen him like this before. He's usually concerned about the concession; he's spent years excavating the workers' village and I thought he'd go to Cairo but he had me take care of it. He hates Howard Carter, considers him an upstart, but Carter has made a major discovery and Father does not seem to care. That's not like him."

"He seems to withdraw to someplace within himself and will stare at nothing for hours. I'm the one who's had to supervise the dig, oversee the workers, and make sure they are paid. This is so unlike him that I don't know what to think."

"I know you do not believe in magic, but it sounds like your father has fallen a spell." He drew a package of cigarettes from him robes, offered one to her then lit both with a lighter she had never seen before.

"But from what? Most of the articles in the village were removed by Belzoni and Drovetti over a century ago. We've found a few things and a lot of ostracons with drawings, scribbles, or sometimes records. There was nothing sacred about that village, ever, it was built to house the workers building the tombs in a place where the guards could keep an eye on them. These aren't tombs we're excavating but peoples' houses that were deserted when the Valley of the Kings fell out of use. What would there be that could possibly cast a spell on him?"

"But isn't there a workers' cemetery nearby? People died and their bodies would have to be buried somewhere."

She took a long draw on her cigarette, then exhaled. "Yes, there is, and some of the tomb paintings are quite lovely, almost the equal of the Pharaohs' tombs, but I've been in many of them and have never seen any sign of a curse. That's all nonsense if you ask me." She was quiet for a moment, then chose her words carefully.

"You know the stories your parents used to tell us, the djinns and monsters that have dwelt in this land before men learned to speak. And Father would tell us stories of the Pharaohs' tombs and the curses they would write on the walls warning against disturbing the contents of their tombs, well how much good did that do? Every tomb in this valley that archaeologists discovered has been empty. Their bodies were thought to have been destroyed until they found the mummy caches and that's only from the New Kingdom."

"Yet you are concerned that something is wrong with your father," he pointed out.

"Yes, I am, he is not himself and if I believed in curses I might wonder if one is affecting him, or if he has become possessed. And why are you here, you still haven't told me?"

"I do not know if it were anyone but your father I would not be. And you are right, I have known your father since I was a boy and he does not seem like himself. Whatever it is I am here to help both you and him."

Her father returned, carrying a rolled-up map. "I have a task for the two of you. The digging season is over and I must turn over my finds to Lacau at the Egyptian Museum. I have, ah, made some discoveries that I am fearful may be apprehended on the way by some less than scrupulous individuals. Therefore I will be transporting the bulk of my discoveries by boat from Luxor while I wish for you and Ardeth Bey to transport the rest by camel."

"Surely, sir," Ardeth interrupted, "You cannot be serious! To travel by camel from Luxor to Cairo will be a journey that may take weeks. I cannot allow you to put your daughter's life at risk."

"What makes you think I could not do it, Ardeth?" objected Roma, "The hot weather is only beginning. I have lived here all my life, I know the ways of the desert."

"But you are not equipped to make such a journey. Do you know how to find the wells of the tribes? How to negotiate their use? Such a journey will take a long time and will be hard on you, trust me. Sir," he addressed her father, "I am willing to take her by camel to Minya and catch the boat from there, but no further. My father has told me he can spare me right now. These are my terms—I take her to Minya but no further, I am surprised you would even consider subjecting your daughter to such harsh conditions."

"Very well," said the professor with a sigh of resignation. He had clearly not anticipated the answer he received but recognized the wisdom of Ardeth's words. The digging season was drawing to a close and the finds were being packed up for transport to Cairo. Workers would have to be paid and transport to Luxor arranged. All the little details that went along with an archaeological expedition had to be faced and he was in a hurry to get them done.

Busa came in with the houseboy, carrying fragrant dishes in metal containers that were set on the table. Ardeth's turban was tactfully removed to make room for the plate heaped high with flatbread.

Roma served herself a generous portion of lamb seasoned with coriander and allspice. "How could I ever go back to England?" she sighed, "I hate the food and it is so cold and rainy. It's not like we don't have cool weather here, but the rain comes with the monsoons, and then it's done."

"And the heat has never fazed you, as I recall," Ardeth laughed, wiping his beard with a napkin, "It always surprised me, sometimes I think you are more Egyptian than the Egyptians themselves."

After dinner, the houseboy cleared the table and the professor excused himself to go have a brandy and smoke a cigar. A decanter of whiskey and two glasses were set on the table then Roma waved away the servants.

She poured herself a generous portion of whiskey then asked, "Would you care for some? I think the prophet would forgive you, especially after the surprise Papa gave us."

Ardeth picked up a glass and the decanter, splashed some into the glass, drank it in one swallow, then poured himself another. He grinned, his smile saying, "Yes, I'll have that drink."

"Ardeth," she began cautiously, "I am worried about my father, he is not himself. He knows how long the trip to Cairo would take by camel, and though I was foolish enough to think I'd attempt it, that's something he never would have suggested in the old days. Why can't he just bring everything at once, that's what we'd normally do? And I thought he'd be more pleased with the fact we have our concession for Deir El Medina for another year, but he just seemed indifferent."

Ardeth lit two cigarettes and handed one to her. "What is it that you are not telling me?

"He's been disappearing at night and not coming back until daylight, then he falls asleep and sometimes has nightmares. I can hear him moaning and crying in his sleep. I have had to handle the supervision of the dig this year and that is something I've never had to do before."

"What is he doing at night that he cannot do by day?"

"I think he's been in the Valley of the Kings, looking for something. I've seen him trace the paths between Deir El Medina and the Valley, but he just brushed me off when I asked him what he was looking for." She leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm, feeling the muscles beneath his sleeve. "I think he's found something, something he's been looking for all season. What I don't know, but I have an idea."

"What, what is it?" he asked, the urgency plain in his voice, "What do you think he's found?"

And slowly she told him the story of the tomb robbers caches and how her father suspected there was unknown treasure hidden in the valley.

#Ancient Egypt #Valley of the Kings #Excavation #Cairo #tomb #the mummy #mummy #Luxor #Nile #archaeology #Rick O'Connell #Evelyn Carnahan

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (33)- Waking

A lot of people commented about how horrifying it would be to wake up in the middle of surgery. Anesthesia awareness happens to about 1 in a 1000 patients, and I was one of those lucky ducks!

It wasn’t major surgery, but I still wasn’t supposed to wake up. I was getting my wisdom teeth removed. They recommended I bring in headphones and listen to music. I was only conscience enough to hear my music. At one point a song came on that I didn’t want to listen to, so I opened my eyes and looked down to my iPod. The orthodontist stopped and said, “Oh just changing the song?”

And then I looked up, seeing two doctors there, with blood covered gloves, and a bunch of instruments sticking out of my mouth.

It’s the only thing I remember from getting that surgery. Not the recovery, not the appointment, not even the song that prompted it. It also only felt like it took 15 minutes, but apparently it was two hours. Anesthesia really messes with the perceived perception of time when you’re only semiconscious.

It’s really a horrifying experience.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

Dr. Ernest Boucher would consider himself lucky. He had a loving wife, and a patient son, who understood the importance of his father’s job and didn’t take it personally when he had to suddenly leave.

And now, after a 48 hour shift, he was returning home. Exhausted, hungry, and stressed, but home.

“I’m home!” He called in the door.

“Oh honey!” His wife called from the other room. “We just sat down for dinner! Come take a seat, I’ll make you up a plate!”

Ernest hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. Home cooking, a hot shower, and to sleep for a few hours in his bed…that’s all he wanted.

His wife wrapped an arm around his waist and smooched his cheek. “I made Lasagna.”

“Lasagna…I love lasagna…” He said dreamily.

As he came into the kitchen, he saw his son, pouring himself a soda. “Hey Pop! You look like you got hit by a truck!” The boy laughed.

His son was 17 years old, blonde hair, athletic, looked a lot like Adrien. Several times during the surgery, Ernest imagined it was his boy on the table.

He sympathized with Gabriel Agreste, who looked like a complete mess.

“Pop? You good?”

Ernest yanked on his son’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug. “Just happy to see you, Kiddo.”

With a shrug, Ernest’s son hugged his father back.

—

After a filling dinner and a 8 hour night’s sleep, Ernest arose. His pager hadn’t gone off in the middle of the night. So surely Adrien and Marinette were either in the same place they were, or any minor problems were solved by the team.

He showered, shaved, and got dressed.

His boy was already at school, but had left him a text in the morning.

“You’re my superhero!” It read, simply.

The words brought tears to his eyes.

His wife made him breakfast, a big one with lots of protein to keep him full until he had a late lunch. She also filled up his coffee mug with a fancy kind that outdid the hospital brew.

And then, with another kiss, he was back off to the hospital.

Or at least that was the plan. He was not expecting to be swarmed outside his house by the media.

“Dr. Boucher! What kind of surgery did Adrien have?!”

“Is Marinette alright?”

“Did Chat lose his arm?”

“Did Adrien survive from the whipping!?”

“Have you talked to the families yet?!”

“Dr. Boucher!”

“Dr. Boucher, over here!”

Completely overwhelmed, his head swiveled everywhere his name was called until he was dizzy.

“Stop!” He shouted, hands out.

The crowd calmed to a murmur.

“Everyone be quiet! Just give me a moment!”

Well, if he was a little dazed before, now he was wide awake.

The media settled down, waiting to hear him.

“Bring the mics closer, I’m only going to say this once. Then I must get back to the hospital!”

Obediently, the news crews all passed microphones up to the front, where some poor intern was put in charge of holding them up like a bouquet in front of the good doctor.

Ernest clear his throat. “Alright. Due to patient confidentiality, I can’t get into specifics. But I can tell you that as of when I left last night, both Marinette and Adrien were alive and asleep. They both received care for several wounds inflicted from Salo, including the flogging. Adrien’s arm has not yet been addressed, because of other more serious surgeries first. That is all I can tell you now, thank you.”

The crowd parted as he headed to his car, but they continued to ask questions as he climbed inside.

Ernest took a sip of his coffee as he started the car. He wasn’t sure how the media found out he was in charge of the team. He didn’t worry about it, but it wasn’t expected. Some nurse who hadn’t read their email probably blurted something to someone.

Oh well. He supposed the nugget he gave was fair enough. After a month of knowing absolutely everything happening to the heroes, and then knowing nothing? It would leave people asking questions.

And with Hawkmoth battling with the auxiliary heroes on the Arc de Triomphe, there probably weren’t any more threats to worry about.

He hoped.

—

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away—away—to an indefinite distance—it died. The nightingale’s song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said—

“Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.”

“I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.”

It was a weird dream. No visuals, no feelings. Just a soft voice of a mother recanting a story. She spoke quietly, tenderly, just a hum above a whisper.

Then she felt sensations. Pins and needles of sleepiness in her toes, the ache and twinge of long set wounds.

Her knees ached, as they were unaccustomed to having her legs stretched out. But she found she lacked the strength to move.

Was she awake? Or asleep? Neither, she supposed, balancing on the edge of both. That blissful state of absolute comfort.

Slowly, Marinette back tracked in time. What did she remember?

The haunting image of Adrien bleeding out in that chair, watching him collapse in the hall, his slowly languid breaths in that room.

And then a haze. They moved, somewhere. Wetness, like rain. Running?

It was like looking through a thick cotton curtain, muffling sound and sight.

And now she was here. Wherever ‘here‘ was.

Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous.

“Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely.”

“You have no faith in me?”

“Not a whit.”

It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. A soft bed, cradling her as if she was fragile, and a warm blanket weighing her to the bed. A soft ambient light held back the darkness, but didn’t pierce through her lids.

Marinette tried to open her eyes, caked as they were. The light was dim, illuminating gridded ceiling titles immediately above her. It smelled faintly of chemicals, while a droning hiss carried through the air. Her neck ached, but as she tilted her head, she briefly looked around the room. No one to her left, though she did see a strange machine and a metal stand, an IV stand. A tube ran from the bag down to her arm. A door cracked open revealed a bathroom and another door on the far side of the room was closed, but silhouetted figure stood in the window.

To her right, she found the owner of the voice, her own mother, sitting in a chair by her side, hand in hers, and reading from a book. Jane Eyre, as it looked. Farther down the bed, her father sat in another chair, his hand wrapped loosely around her foot.

Behind her parents, orange light filtered through the light curtains.

A bright red blob caught her attention. Tikki laid curled up on her chest.

A moment more, allowing her brain to digest all she could see, and she realized she was in a hospital.

The how and when escaped her.

“What, me!” I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness— and especially in his incivility—to credit his sincerity: “me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?”

“You, Jane, I must have you for my own—entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly.”

“Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to read your countenance—turn!”

“There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer.”

“Marinette?” Her father interrupted.

Marinette didn’t respond verbally, not knowing if she had the strength to do so. Instead, she squeezed her hand and twitched her foot.

Warm lips pressed to her forehead, as she came to find a mask on her face. She couldn’t speak, even if she wanted to.

“Just sleep, my darling.” Sabine said softly. “You’re very tired.”

She was. That was true.

The warmth, the quiet, the softness, it was soothing.

Safe.

Sleep.

Safe.

Safe.

Adrien.

She awoke with a jolt. It had only been a few minutes, so she thought, but the room was different. Brighter. Day light peered in the window, and her father was gone.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Sabine asked, seeing Marinette startle awake. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Adrien.” She said, in response.

Understanding came over Sabine’s face. “Yes darling, he’s here. He’s in ICU. He’ll be okay.”

She pulled on the mask that covered her face, immediately struggling to breathe. “I need to see him!”

Sabine just calmly replaced the mask. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

Marinette grabbed her wrist. “Where is he? Where’s Chat?” She began to cry.

Sabine pressed a button nearby. “Ssh, darling. He’s alright. Just relax.”

Marinette shook her head, forcing the mask from her face. “I don’t believe you! I need to see him! Adrien!”

A female nurse hurried into the room. “Oh dear, she’s up!” The woman smiled.

“She wants to see Adrien.”

The nurse came to the bed, clasping Marinette’s hands. “Oh honey, I know you do. But you’re in no shape to get out of bed.”

“I don’t care! I need to see Adrien! Please!” Her voice was breaking, as she desperately tried to get out of the bed. She was exhausted, and everything hurt as she moved.

“I’m sorry dear, but you need to calm down.” The nurse pressed the mask back to her face and held it there, as her other hand went to the machine at her side.

“Let me go! He needs me! Please I don’t want to leave him alone!”

The nurse petted her hair gently. “Shh, just relax. Breathe. Breathe nice and deep.”

“No! No! No…no…” she felt weaker. Her vision blurred as the room tilted.

Sleep. Her brain demanded.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Adrien.

She jolted again. Wakefulness coming to her quite quickly. Things had changed again, though she was only out for a few minutes, right? Except, now it was dark outside, and both of her parents were missing.

“Marinette! You’re awake again!” Tikki chirped, floating in front of her.

Marinette stared, not knowing what to say. Surely there should be some tearful reunion, right? Or perhaps shame or guilt?

But her mind was in one place.

“Tikki, spots on.”

Tikki had a millisecond to gasp before being sucked into the earrings.

The suit disconnected her from all the tubes and wires. The needles in her veins were forced out, the pads on her chest were peeled off. She ripped the mask off, finding it difficult to breathe again, but not eager to go back to sleep.

All resulting in alarms blaring.

Ladybug had to act quickly to find him. She pushed up, her arms trembling with the action. Her back twinged, as her torn flesh stretched and twisted.

By time she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the nurse appeared. A male nurse this time, roughly the same age as her father, and built like a fridge.

“Whoa there, little lady!” He rushed to her. “You can’t be getting up. Do you need to use the bathroom? We can get you a bedpan.”

She swatted him away, “don’t touch me!”

“What are you trying to do, Ladybug? Let me help you before you hurt yourself.”

“I’m going to see Chat! And you’re not going to stop me!” She glared at him, daring him to try to stop her.

He studied the intensity of her glare, and sighed. “Alright. Just relax a second, alright?”

She didn’t, but stopped trying to stand.

“My name is John, I’m the night shift nurse for you.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Now,” he took her hand gently. “I will take you to Adrien, but we have to do it the hospital way, okay? You don’t want to hurt yourself more, right? Chat wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She softened at the tone. “You’ll take me to him?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll take you to your husband.”

Husband.

So that wedding really was official after all? It hadn’t felt real. No one treated them like husband and wife. They were only treated like garbage.

Her shoulders relaxed, fist uncurled, jaw unclenched. “What’s the hospital way?” She asked.

“I’m going to get you a wheelchair. We’ll reconnect you to the IV, because you’ve got to get your fluids up. Then we’ll stay for a little while, but when it starts hurting too much, we’ll bring you back.”

“I can’t stay with him?”

John knelt in front of her, and held her hands tightly. “Ladybug, Adrien is in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood. We gave him a blood transfusion, but the rest is up to him. He needs constant surveillance.”

“Is…is he going to be okay?”

“I think so. He hasn’t passed yet.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“You were admitted four days ago. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the last two.”

She frowned, considering this. Finally, she relented. “Spots off.”

In a flash of pink, Marinette returned, and with her, more pain. She cried out, as John squeezed her hand.

“I’m going to go get that wheelchair, alright? Stay seated, please.” And he hurried out of the room.

Marinette rested her hands on her knees. Her very knobby, scabbed over knees. She wore thick socks, which made her stick legs look even smaller. She was covered in all sorts of cuts and bruises she hadn’t seen in the dark, and her right hand, which had been branded, was wrapped with thick gauze.

She dared not look in the mirror.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, sadly.

“I’m sorry, Tikki,” was all she could say.

“You don’t need to apologize.” The kwami nuzzled against her cheek. “I’m just glad you’re safe now. Things are going to be weird, and you might be a little irrational. But that’s okay. I still love you.”

Marinette shuttered at the affection, reaching up to hold her against her cheek. “I love you too Tikki.”

John returned shortly, pushing a chair along. “Here we are.”

At his arrival, Marinette pushed against the mattress and tried to slide to the floor. But as her feet made contact, a sharp pain bolted up her legs and she moaned in pain.

“I gotcha,” John directed her to sit, not allowing her to stand for more than a second. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“What…what’s wrong with my legs?” She asked as the pain subsided.

“You have infection in both of your feet. From running around the catacombs for several hours with no shoes on.”

She hummed in understanding.

Carefully, John eased her into the foot rests. Then he had her hold out her arm so he could reattach the IV. “This is a saline solution, just to get your fluids up. You’re still pretty dehydrated.”

“I’m thirsty.” She admitted.

“I’ll get you some water in just a second, okay?”

Marinette couldn’t watch as he inserted the needle, but did look after he started to secure the tube for the IV. “Its…bizarre.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s…so strange to have you be nice to me. Like…I know you’re a nurse, and that you’re only trying to take care of me…”

“But you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Marinette. I might boss you around a little, but I only have your best interests at heart.”

She decided to relax then, leaning back. Her back twinged with the movement. “Agh,” she hissed.

“When we get back, I’ll get you some pain killers.”

“…thank you.”  

Marinette was escorted into the hall, and they almost immediately were stopped by a man in a white coat.

“John? What do you think you’re doing?” He spoke firmly, but calmly. “Miss Dupain-Cheng should not be out of bed.”

“She shouldn’t.” John agreed. “But I found that she is liable to hurt herself if she doesn’t see Mr. Agreste. She transformed.”

“Ah,” the doctor nodded, in understanding. Then he crouched so that Marinette didn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. “Hi Marinette, I’m Dr. Boucher. I’m the main physician for you and Adrien.”

She didn’t say anything, just studied him.

“I know you probably have a hard time trusting anyone right now, but I promise—“

“Stop wasting my time.” She bit, pain starting to creep into her body without the aid of painkillers. “I was promised to see Adrien.”

The doctor smirked. “Yes, of course my dear. John, I will relieve you, if you would go tell the parents where Marinette will be? I believe they are having dinner at the cafeteria right now.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet you in ICU.” He took hold of the chair and started to push her towards the elevators.

“Are you sure I can’t stay with him?” Marinette whispered.

“No, my dear. I’m very sorry. I’ll take you to see him, but I’ll warn you that he looks very scary right now. A lot of tubes and wires all over him. But I promise it’s very his best interest.”

Marinette didn’t outwardly react, but she did feel saddened.

Over the years, Ladybug had seen Chat Noir die several times. Whether it was turning into something, vanishing completely, or hitting the side of a building too hard.

But after the cure, he always bounced back to his normal pun-loving self.

However, this was different. Of course it was. No kwami, no powers, no five minute alarms blaring in her ears. All of it was permanent. She knew that in her head.

But her heart didn’t want to see his scars.

Dr. Boucher wheeled her to an elevator, and then pressed the button for the ground floor. The back wall of the elevator was a window that looked out into the courtyard. In the night, she could look across the yard to a set of large windows, showing the cafeteria, busy with people.

The elevator came to rest, and she was led into the hall.

This was a very nice hospital, with art and sculpture along the walls. As they passed various rooms, nurses and doctors alike spotted her and stared as she went.

“They’re looking at me.” She told the doctor.

“They mean no harm.” He assured. “You should know that you and Adrien are the biggest topic of conversation in Paris right now. Everyone is curious to hear how you are.”

“It’s none of their business,” She bit.

“It’s not.” He confirmed. “But…that woman made it everyone’s business. They just want a happy ending.”

Marinette gripped the armrests. “So do I.”

“Recovery won’t be easy, but you have a wonderful support network. And I have several therapists for you both to utilize. That should make it easier for you.”

Marinette didn’t respond, only digested the information given.

Before too long, they arrived at a room in ICU, being guarded with a police officer. He frowned when he saw Marinette.

“I’d like to see Adrien.” She said sternly.

The man just looked at the doctor. “Far be it from me to stop this…but she should be up?”

“It’s only for a visit. It’s alright.”

The man nodded, and allowed them in.

Marinette’s eyes immediately fell on the figure in the bed. He was barely visible under all the tubes and wires, and bandages. He was leaning to his left, propped up with pillows, so he wasn’t resting flat on his back. She could see his bruised eyes, as his face had a heavy mask strapped to it. Some stray locks of hair stuck out from the strap that led over the top of his head. His left hand had a tube taped to it and a oximeter clamped on his finger. A blanket was pulled up to his sternum, making his chest visible, but it was covered in pads and wires, as well as the tubes that ran into his mask. Under all that was a thick gauze right in the middle of his breast bone, taped on all sides. His right arm, which had been dislocated, was in a sling, resting against his stomach. His hand, wrapped in gauze, rested on top of a Ladybug doll, the one she had made herself. Plagg rested in the crook of his wrist.

“Adrien?”

“He’s sedated right now, which is for the best. He’s intubated so he can breathe better. It would be painful if he was awake.”

“Bring me closer.”

“Please don’t move him.”

Marinette reached out and rested her hand on his wrist, careful not to accidentally nudge his arm. Her thumb rubbed over the frigid skin, trying to give him some heat.

Plagg awoke at the movement, flicking his eyes up. Many hands had come and gone in the few hours he and Gabriel had finally been allowed to see Adrien. Ever watchful, he took note of the nurses, and what they were doing, what they were checking, applying.

But seeing Marinette had confused him for a moment, because he hadn’t recognized her immediately.

But then he saw Tikki on her lap.

“Pigtails?”

“Hi Plagg,” though there wasn’t much warmth in the greeting. She did scratch him between the ears with her finger. He only looked at her sadly.

“He’s cold.” She told the doctor.

“I can get him another blanket.” He stated as he moved from behind her. “Stay put.”

She studied Adrien’s eyes, closed to slumber, but twitching slightly. The ECG graphed his steady heart beat, and the ventilator pumped air at a calm rate. Yes, he looked scary right now, but admittedly, he looked better than he had in the hell hole. He looked peaceful, comfortable, and not at all like he was fighting for his life, though he very obviously still was.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to that sliver of skin. “I’m right here, Kitty. I want to stay with you, but I’m not allowed to.” She wiped a gentle tear from her eye. “But I think we’ll be together soon. Once you’re healed enough. So get better soon, please.”

Tikki floated from Marinette’s lap and hovered over him. “Plagg? Where’s the worst injury?”

“…I don’t know.” Said the kwami. “It’s…it’s all pretty bad.”

“Probably his back.” Provided Marinette. “It was right…right down to the bone.”

Tikki nodded and flew over to his other side. Very gently, she nuzzled into his spine.

Adrien’s eyes twitched more, before they settled.

“It probably didn’t do much,” Tikki stated. “But it will help.”

“Would it help if you stayed with him?”

“He’d have to wear the earrings to get any benefits from me.” She looked meaningfully to his ears, which were bright red in most spots, while the top of his left ear was gone, stitches in place. “I don’t thing we should attempt that now.”

Marinette moaned, feeling helpless.

But Plagg wouldn’t stand it. “Hey, I’ve got some healing properties too, you know!” He floated into her face and nuzzled against her cheek, purring. The sound reverberated into her skin, her sinuses, her skull, her spine…she felt a little better. “I just have to keep purring. So tell someone to make sure I’m properly fed with cheese.”

“Oh Plagg…I will. I absolutely will.” Her voice filled with emotion.

“Oh kid…don’t cry. I’m just trying to keep things light.”

Doctor Boucher had returned to the room, but stayed in the doorway, watching with curiosity but privacy. When he noticed Marinette’s tears, he approached her. “How is your pain?”

“I’m not ready to leave yet.” She answered by deflecting.

“Okay. Just let me know.” He unfurled the blanket he’d fetched, and carefully started to drape it over Adrien’s legs. “His hands are cold.” She argued.

“That’s normal for someone with blood loss. Though he’s had a transfusion and should be alright now, he’s not moving, so his circulation isn’t very good.”

“But he’s cold. Can’t you cover him?”

“Not just yet. You can hold his hand though. Just watch the bandages.”

Marinette said nothing, just held his fingers a little tighter.

She wanted to climb up on the bed with him, snuggle up under his chin, and press delicate kisses to his cheek. But hearing that it would be bad for him stopped her from just ignoring everyone and embracing him.

This wasn’t fair.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Dr. Boucher sighed. “We’ll keep him sedated a week, at least. Maybe more. We will bring him out of sedation for about an hour a day, but the goal is to keep his anxiety reduced, especially while he’s on the ventilator.”

“So I won’t be allowed to see him.” Marinette finished.

“Unfortunately, no. His father and Plagg will be here for him, though.”

It was then that Marinette realized that Adrien wasn’t wearing his Miraculous. “Plagg, where’s the ring?”

“Gabriel has it.”

“Shouldn’t Adrien be wearing it?”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Marinette.” Said the doctor. “I’m the one that suggested he not give it back to him just yet. I worried that Adrien might try to transform at the first chance he was given. And given that you did, my theory is correct.”

Marinette sighed, hating that she had been caught.

“You’re not in trouble, and we don’t blame you for doing it.” The doctor clarified. “We just can’t have either of you doing that. It won’t help.”

“I understand.” She rubbed her thumb over Adrien’s knuckles. “Thank you for letting me see him. I’ve been worried.”

“Of course. What’s your pain level?”

“Just a little longer, please.”

“Alright.”

It was then that nurse John came, accompanied by her parents, and a disheveled homeless man.

“Marinette! You shouldn’t be out of bed!” Her mother scolded.

“She knows.” Said Dr. Boucher. “But this is necessary to keep her calm. I’m watching her.”

The nurse brought over a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw. “Here you are, Marinette.”

“Thank you.” She said, taking it skeptically.

Everyone watched as she popped the lid, shook the ice around, and smelled it. Then she sipped a little bit through the straw. At the relaxed look on her face, it was obvious she found the water to be clean. She popped the lid back on and sucked more down. “This is really good.”

“It’s just water,” said Sabine, eyes watering.

“It tastes good.”

The disheveled homeless man spoke. “I’m so glad to see you awake, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I hadn’t get to check in on you since you were loaded into the ambulance.”

She hunched her shoulders. “Who are you?”

He chuckled weakly, rubbing a hand over his short beard. “I’ll admit I look pretty bad. But I didn’t realize I was unrecognizable.”

“It’s the beard, Gabriel.” Said Sabine. “It suits you though.”

“Gabriel? Gabriel Agreste?”

“Who else would be here with Adrien?”

She frowned. “Don’t know. Anyone else. Nathalie? The Gorilla? Never like you supported him before.”

“Marinette…” Sabine chastised, horrified at her behavior.

But the Marinette from the torture chamber was not known for kindness or tact. She didn’t flinch at her mother’s rebuke.

“I suppose I deserve that.” Gabriel said sadly. “Plagg has informed me that I…I may be a sociopath. This was something I wasn’t aware of before. I’m trying to improve my behavior. I’m sorry if you felt like I neglected Adrien. Things are going to be different now.”

Marinette cast her eyes over to Adrien, to her husband. “A shame this had to happen for you to see that.”

“Marinette!” Sabine exasperated.

Marinette winced, as a headache started to grow, and her wounds ached.

“I think it’s time we got you back.” Said Dr. Boucher. “We’ll get you some dinner too, hm?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do you think you could choke down some soup? You really need to eat something.”

“I said I’m not hungry!” She barked, triggering a coughing fit. The doctor simply rubbed her back as she rode it out. After it subsided, she sobbed. “I don’t want to leave him!”

The doctor crouched at her side. “Marinette, I promise you, Adrien’s not leaving this hospital without you. He’s safe. You’re safe. It’ll only be for a little while, and then we’ll put you in the same room together. Okay?”

She glared at him.

“But you’re making yourself worse by staying here like this. You’re so brave, and so smart…but let me take care of you for a little while, okay?”

A few more tears leaked out. “It hurts.”

“Then let’s get you back upstairs, and we’ll give you pain killers, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thats a good girl!” He smiled.  

#longest night #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction #ml #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir

[maren-as-an-adult]

The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

#part 2

[diminuel]

I wasn’t all that fond of 15x10 while I watched it yesterday. I loved the premise and Garth, but I think it was just a bit too over the top for me. The placement of this episode within the greater context of it being the final episode and following the rather gloomy previous episode just made it feel a bit off. That aside, I just didn’t enjoy watching it all that much even though I could appreciate what we were given.

But I’m giving it another rewatch and another chance! I’d love to hear your thoughts too, whether you agree or disagree with my reactions. :D

It takes hardly any time for us to notice something completely amiss and they don’t even hide it: a classical piece of music accompanying a bloody fight between two monsters. Everyone is going to notice that this isn’t quite right, which then guides over into the next thought: the editing makes or breaks a scene. I think that’s the overall theme I took away from this episode. Metatron said that God posted the first draft and we’ve seen both Becky and Metatron edit God’s writing. The first conclusion we could draw is that God is not “editing” Sam and Dean’s story. But actually that doesn’t make a lot of sense because he couldn’t see Sam and Dean before either and they were fine. It’s maybe that he over-edits it. He throws problems in their ways that are... well, kind of what Becky wanted; the everday issues. Them dealing with laundry all day. This is the stuff we write, ad absurdum. And with monsters.

So the theory I’m going with right now is that Chuck is editing, just differently than before.

One preliminary thought regarding Garth: Were there no consequences to the Grace he had swallowed during AU Michael’s weird monster plan? What happened to that monster plan in general? Michael seems to be very bad at stragegizing.......

Dean’ shopping: The shop is called Berens’ quick trip. Berens is always sending us on a trip, though I think this one was Dabb’s fever dream. *lol* Lots of music for what is basically just showing Dean shopping. We see the guy giving Dean a ticket through the window but Dean’s oblivious, too focused on shopping. (Two six packs of beer. This might either show Dean indulging or Dean stocking up for Cas, not that Cas wants beer usually.) 

Dean knows the store attendant by name, so I guess this is a place he goes to often, though I doubt it’s in Lebanon because of the high rises in the background? 

What did Dean buy? Some beer, a magazine, some chips, something sweet he’s eating... How did that amount to over 40$? Why did he go buy that? Why not go to a proper store and buy proper food? Just beer and snacks? As someone who has to do her own shopping now this seems inefficient. (And my shopping center is in 5 minutes walking distance. *lol*) Also, I think I’ve seen people mention that the magazine is a cooking or baking magazine?

Also, here’s the first instance we have of Dean’s teeth hurting. Just stop eating the chocolate you silly man.

I have no compassion for Dean whining about getting a ticket. He’s not allowed to park there. Rules apply for you too, Mr. Winchester. I don’t like people who think they can do what they want. *thinks back to young snobby looking BMW driver who parked in the middle of a square in front of a bank and who got a ticket* *Schadenfreude* (That’s the kind of person I am. I like people who think rules don’t apply for them to be punished by the law.)

Sam’s scene in the kitchen: I assume it was Dean who had started cooking and then just walked away to get some more shopping done. This is merely based on my assumption that Sam doesn’t cook. We know that Sam sometimes does kinda stupid things like blowing on paper to make the fire go out... Touching things straight out of the oven and putting his hands on a hot pot are pretty thoughtless. And he’s clumsy apparently.

Also why the heck would he pull the pot from the stove? It wasn’t even boiling over. Just lower the temperature. Have you never been in a kitchen before, dude? And you’re not even cleaning up after yourself?

Dean and Sam discussing their issues: So Sam never trips? Both noticed right away that this was weird. Sam looks so offended. Like “I’m Sam Fucking Winchester, I don’t trip!”?

Also, did Sam say “dinner”? Is it already evening and they’ve just been hit with “normal person-itis” now? I see Sam’s watch but I can’t decipher it right. It it 5:35? What time of the year is it in canon? I was still light outside when Dean was shopping.

In the car on the way to Garth: A look, it’s dark now, which suppors the “they just randomly got hit with normal people problems. The music for this scene is also unusual. 

I’m annoyed that Cas is in heaven. Why. Why is he up there? Why does SPN always stash Cas out of the way with random stuff? It would have been nice if there had been a phone call or something with Cas checking in or just a mention that Dean was driving back from dropping Cas off at the angel gate or whatever. It takes so little, makes such an impact for me. This? Sorry. It’s just not enough for me.

Why is the car giving up the ghost? Especially in such a weird way? Isn’t Dean constantly working on the Impala? This is not normal people problems either.

At Garth’s: So Sam and Dean walked like 16km? Couldn’t they have taken public transport OR a taxi like normal people...? Or call road assistance or Garth at least? I don’t know what it’s like in the US but that seems a bit extra, even for Sam and Dean.

Garth and Bess have an old style phone in their house, which is a random remark but it’s a nice deco object.

Garth’s Twins: I don’t quite understand why Garth calls the twins Sam and Castiel. What kind of connection does Garth have to Cas? Why not Sam and Dean? If only one of the brothers, why Sam? He has more of a connection to Dean after all? I don’t get it. Dabb just liking it when people prefer Sam and Dean has to roll his eyes at it? :/

Again with the weird, out of place music when they have a look at Bess’ cousin.

Dean and Garth: The dramatic music when Dean steps into the dentist’s room. *lol* And then his disquieted “you’re very strong” when Garth forced him. I think since Garth treats werewolves who might also have an aversion to the dentist, he’d be used having to use a bit of force *lol* Besides. I really love getting insight into how monsters deal with “normal people problems” because they have them too. It’s a shame that we don’t see more of that side to monsters. We only see those monsters who mess up after all, rarely those who try to blend in. 

I might not know much about dentistry but I only had cotton stuffed into my bleeding mouth like that when I got my wisdom teeth out in an operation. Sure, I bleed a bit when I have appointment but not like that??? Just what did Garth do? Replace Dean’s teeth with werewolf teeth? *lol*

Sam and Bess: Dramatic music continues when Bess hands Sam the “cure” drink. It kind of frames the scenes as dangerous and at least it put me slightly on “confused edge” because the music made me think I couldn’t trust Garth and Bess. Sam’s struggles are kinda... over the top. I mean, we’ve seen Dean eat ghost pepper jerky and suffer, but Sam is suffering kinda ridiculously, like he’s been hit by a curse or something (i.e. still like he’s in the middle of a battle against some monster). Ew. Sam wiping his tongue on the arm he’s been sneezing and snotting into. Uff.

The tap dancing: Nice but I don’t really see the point in it >w< I guess normal people have normal funky dreams. And I guess Dean dreams of joyful things like dancing and having FOR ONCE gentle interactions with a lamp instead of always smashing them.

Talking about God and being heroes in a story: I like Garths’ approach to this topic and that he’s much more aware of story structures than the Winchesters seem to be. Why does Dean need a colonoscopy? (Angsty thought: does he have cancer...? Can werewolves smell it? Is that how it’s gonna end? Normal people problem killing Dean? Nope.)

Scene with the cousin: Poor Sam, he looks so upset when his “gentle request and puppy eyes” approach didn’t work. Though I like that it’s Bess who gets the guy to talk (like it’s Garth who gets the job done later on). I really like that monsters have normal people problems too. And it seems like the Winchesters are still very surprised about that.

Sam and Dean “job”: I think they’re being idiots here. Not only do they lack any evidence that the monsters who watch those fights are harming people, so they just kill them because they’re monsters? Also, it seems very unwise for two people alone to take on how many monsters?? No damn research done at all. And on top of that it seems really unwise to go on a case when they don’t know what else “normal people problems” entails while hunting. At least Sam might have been alarmed due to his sudden clumsiness... Just, stupid move on the Winchesters’ part. 

Side note: Sam doesn’t seem to be comfortable saying anything at all. He still seems to be shocked by the werewolf’s diss.

Dean continues to be kinda dumb and I don’t exactly get why. They don’t know what they’re walking into, so they definitely need to be prepared and I can think of several examples where he was prepared for anything. And now that he can’t be sure of his “luck” he’s not gonna think twice about it? And him munching his grilled cheese, talking with his mouth full and “playing” with the gun wasn’t super endearing to me. Sorry, I know many found it cute *lol* And who vomits that loudly...? I mean... ew.

I liked that Dean tried to bluff his way out of the situation and maybe it would have worked in another situation... 

Dean and Sam in cages: It makes no sense that not being able to pick locks is part of normal people problems because I’m sure they learnt how to pick locks over the years. So this, and their inability to fight later on (another thing they’ve learnt) just makes it clear that Chuck didn’t just remove them from “hero” status, but took away more than just their special skills.

Dean’s entire heartfelt speech doesn’t work either, neither on Sam or Dean, nor on the audience both because of how it’s filmed (no particular clear shot of Dean’s face and Sam constantly looking uncomfortable) and the variation of Dean’s theme.

What’s with Dean’s throat? I don’t understand what he said.

Garth saves the day: Dean’s awed “you are so strong” is cute! Why has he never been in awe of Cas’ strenght? Cas lifted a 1t anvil once and Dean didn’t even look at him amorously for it. 

Man, there are a couple things I don’t understand here! Wish I had subtitles because I’ll probably only get what “we’re gotta get out of here blblblbl monstersquad” or “the monster squad bbbüb the good guys” means.

I think they might still be able to fight but whatever “hero” bonus they had was deleted and now it IS almost impossible to just knock out a monster. They did have more trouble in earlier seasons before they could just easily stick an angelblade into every monster and not even break much of a sweat. But the whole fight sequence is just a little bit too ridiculous for me...

Back at Garth’s home: The whole “this Cas keeps looking at me weird” scene is my highlight. I wonder if now that Dean and Cas are no longer locked into their defined roles (though I’m not sure if Chuck has written them with a specific dynamic, since he never seems to make use of Cas) Dean will notice more about Cas too ;D Though of course Dean does notice the way Cas looks at him (”the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid” as a classic example). But still, maybe something to think about. Since a story does come with particular characters dynamics between heros and their supporting characters.

Dean saying that he could be an awesome dancer if he wanted to be is nice. The only thing he lacks is a partner to dance with. Though... He doesn’t lack a partner since he has Cas back now. He just needs to make the first move ;3

Baby clearly doesn’t want to go to Alaska. *lol*

Okay, that was a long post again, not structured at all, not edited, and it still took me multiple days to rewatch and type this up! Haha

#Supernatural #spoilers #15x10 spoilers

[so-langdon]

In The End - Michael Langdon x Fem! Reader (Final Part)

Summary: Michael tries to get Y/N back after the world has ended.

Warnings: Swearing, slight jealousy, dirty talk, a whole lotttta angst, fluff

**There’s no Emily character in this story**

A/N: I was hiiiigh off meds for my wisdom teeth removal pain when I wrote, edited and posted the first part of In The End and don’t think it’s my best work rip. But I wrote this second part to give it some closure lol. Thanks for reading! <3

Tagged!: @hecohansen31 @michaelsapostle @fallenangel4996 @sarcasticfuck101 @redlovett @rocketgirl2410 @gypsylilacs (tagged those who commented for Part 2 !!)

The world was certainly cruel when it wanted to be. The world could fuck with you if it had you in it’s sights, daring and testing you, seeing all that you could handle.

Y/N had never forgotten the day Michael spoke those harsh words to her. Claiming he never loved her, never actually wanted her, only used her for sex. She had so much inner hatred for him, the memories she thought back on reminding her of her broken heart every time. But she hated herself more for still loving him anyway.

Even though her feelings of love and adoration had never faded for Michael, she was bitter and resentful towards him too for the way he treated her. She never wanted to let any man have control over her in this way; to have a man cause her this kind of pain and hatefulness inside her. But falling in love with someone truly did open up a series of doors to other emotions you had no control over.

Y/N had managed to not date anyone else up until the bombs, never feeling ready to meet anyone new. She was so skeptical and hurt from what Michael had done to her, she could never bring herself to open up to anyone like that again. Also from the fact that she was still in love with Michael and didn’t want anyone else. The way Michael had captured her heart, though a cruel joke for his own amusement, had served it’s purpose with her and her heart would forever belong to him.

It didn’t matter, she figured, as the world had sadly come to it’s end. She didn’t know how or why she had secured a spot in an underground survival headquarters, called Outpost 3. She was conflicted on being thankful for the spot as she felt there were many other people who could have taken her place. But that was just the kindness and consideration in her. 

Routine had formed nonetheless, everyone adjusting as best they could and understanding the rules and protocol of living their new lives at the Outpost. But after a long eighteen months, someone had breached the premises.

When the world had ended, being overrun with decay and tragedy, Y/N of course thought this meant she’d never see anyone she knew again. The world and most of it’s population had died with it. But this wasn’t the case when of all people, Michael Langdon, walked down the corridor and into the dining area, announcing his position, the interviews and sanctuary. 

She couldn’t believe her eyes. She thought she was hallucinating. There was no way this was the Michael Langdon she had spent a year of her life with and then had broken her heart so coldly. But she knew those blue eyes anywhere, recognized that soft tone when he spoke, and knew it was really him even with his hair grown out longer, had grown to look more mature and superior and was wearing black Victorian-like clothes.

Y/N never would have thought in a million years she’d come face to face with Michael again everything that had happened. Once he’d ended things, once she left his home that day, once the world ended, she figured that would be it. She’d never hear from him again under any circumstances, and she hadn’t, disregarding her overflowing thoughts of him constantly. 

But not now. Not anymore.

~

She’d done well with avoiding him for the most part. Michael didn’t seem interested in interacting and spending time with anyone in the Outpost unless he was interviewing them. So it was easy to keep her distance from him. But she knew it was only a matter of time. 

She’d tried to keep herself busy. Reading books, talking with Timothy, who she was closest to at the Outpost, taking naps to avoid the consistent thoughts and anxieties she had when she thought about seeing Michael again. But all the nerves and worries, and even embarrassment for some reason she felt, all faded away into anger when she sat for her interview in front of the man who once hurt her.

Y/N was doing her best to contain her rage and annoyance. But Michael was so obviously cocky and smug, making it apparent he remembered her from the way he called her “darling” and spoke about seeing her after so long.

“What a pleasure it is seeing you again, darling,” Michael grinned arrogantly, making Y/N want to slap him across the face.  “Fuck you,” she’d retorted back, not wanting to show him an ounce of happiness of getting to see him again. “I see you’re still harboring some anger.” “Fuck you,” she repeated, unable to form any coherent reply aside from that, considering how upset she was becoming with him seated so smugly in front of her.

The one on one continued, but only lasted so long before Y/N couldn’t handle it anymore and stood up from her seat, shoving the chair away from her. “I’m done with this conversation. Throw me to the cannibals, I don’t care. I refuse to have this interview with you for a second longer,” she states, walking to the door to leave. Michael stands up, waving a hand quickly to shut and lock the doors as she’s just opened them to leave. He’s not going to be letting her out of his sights that easy. Y/N knew of Michael’s title and abilities. Michael had confided and told her of everything, always venting to her when plans of him with Mead and his prophesied path became stressful and overwhelming for him. It took a long while for Y/N to come to the conclusion that he was telling the truth, and for her to even trust and accept who he was, considering he was supposed to be evil. But she’d already fallen so hard in love with him, that even with hearing his story up until that point, she had trusted him and never wanted to abandon or leave him like so many people in his life had already. She realizes she made a mistake with staying with him considering the way things panned out. She looks over at Michael with an irritated expression. “Let me out.” “We’re not finished talking,” Michael says. “You don’t get to dictate that.” “Actually, I do,” Michael says in a fluid tone. He waves a hand to her chair, it turning to face her as he gestures for her to sit down again. “Your life is in my hands now.” “I just said throw me to the cannibals. Doesn’t that tell you enough that I don’t care?” “And yet, you know that I know that you do care. I can sense in you that you value your life, understandably. Just like how I can tell you still have feelings for me.” Y/N narrows her eyes, harshly staring at him.  “It’s why you’re so angry,” he says matter of fact. “You wish you didn’t still love me, but,” Michael grins and shrugs carelessly. “You do.” “You don’t know anything about me anymore,” Y/N grits. “Stay out of my head.” “Come have a seat,” Michael gestures to the chair again, ignoring her reply. “What do you care what I have to say? Why do you care to have this interview or to talk to me anyway? You don’t care about me,” she crosses her arms. “Of course I do,” Michael states. “But you won’t sit down long enough to let me explain everything.” “Explain,” Y/N raises her eyes. “Oh, you want to explain now? I thought this was an interview to see who deserved a shot at salvation for the sanctuary,” she spoke sarcastically. Michael stares at her, becoming impatient. She rolls her eyes. “You had your chance to explain, but you didn’t. You don’t get to decide now that you’re ready to talk to me.” “If you do not come over and sit in this chair yourself, I will make you. You know I will. Do not test me,” Michael speaks flatly, but a slight annoyance residing in his tone too as he sits back down. Y/N is furious. She’s never felt so much fury in one moment before. She’s livid from having to face Michael again. She’s annoyed she can’t escape her feelings for him. She’s flushed because he knows obviously her feelings for him still exist. She’s pissed he still has a hold over her and that he knows it.  “We have much to discuss,” Michael says, gesturing to the chair one final time. Y/N looks away, crossing her arms tighter across her chest.  “Y/N,” Michael repeats firmly. Y/N looks at him. “If you’re going to keep me hostage here to listen to whatever bullshit you have to say -- fine. But you can do it while I stand here. I don’t want to sit.” Michael sighs out, sitting in his chair and leaning back. “You can’t make this easy, can you?” “Make what easy? I just want to stand.” Michael rolls his eyes. “If I’m being so problematic, then just let me go,” she snaps. “That’s the problem, isn’t it,” Michael stands again, striding around his desk and over to her in assertive steps. “If I could let you go, it would make things a hell of a lot easier. But I can’t. Instead, I have to deal with your stubbornness, still years later, just to try and get you to listen to me.” “You’re whining because I won’t listen to you? Years ago I wanted to listen to you, wanted you to open up and explain whatever the fuck was going on,” she gestures out to him. “But you weren’t having it. Now you’ve ruined your chance.” Michael exhales a deep sigh. “Why would I want to waste any time listening to any bullshit you have to tell me anyway?” She scowls. “After how cruel and mean and awful you were to me? You expect me to want to listen and comply to your demands now? No. That’s not how this fucking works.” "You’re angry, you’re upset,” Michael begins. “You’re hurt. I know you are. I am too.” “Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes. “Do go on about your pain and make this all about you now, alright.” “I’m not trying to make--” Michael halts and breathes out. “I’m not trying to do that. There’s just so much you don’t know. Which is why I want to explain to you. But you’re making it difficult.” “Well, it could have been easier had you not been so fucking arrogant and smug in the beginning of this interview; practically taunting and teasing me with all the bullshit that’s happened in the past,” she glares. “Fine. I apologize for my arrogance,” Michael says, trying to get her to hurry and comply, tone just as cocky as before, placing a hand over his chest. “Now come take a seat so we can discuss this maturely,” he gestures again towards the chair. She shakes her head. “You don’t fucking get it, do you,” she exclaims. “That was a shit apology, first of all. Second, I want nothing to do with you. Regardless of whatever feelings I have for you still, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” “What if I were to tell you that I have the same feelings for you as you do for me,” Michael starts. Y/N hesitates, repeating his words in her head. “I’d.. say you were either lying or.. that it’s too late.” Michael clasps his hands behind his back, looking at her sternly. “You broke up with me,” she frowns. “You made it clear you do not care for my presence. And the way you did it? You’ve ruined any chance of redemption.” “You say that now, but you don’t know the whole story,” Michael says carefully. “And clearly I don’t want to know it,” Y/N adds.  “What do you have to lose?” Michael tells her. “To just listen to me?” “My time is clearly limited at this point,” she says sarcastically, “so I’m losing valuable time, actually.” “Do you know why you’re in this Outpost in the first place?” Michael asks her all of a sudden. “Does everything I say go in one ear and out the other?” She raises her eyes. Michael suddenly appears directly in front of Y/N, causing her to gasp a bit from being startled at the closeness. She steps back, creating space. But Michael doesn’t allow this as with each step she takes backward, he takes one forward. When she can no longer step back anymore, she stops, her back lightly touching against the wall. Michael takes advantage of her placement and presses his body firmly against hers while her back presses further into the wall behind her. He places a hand on each side of her on the wall to prevent her from escaping. “When I said I didn’t want you anymore, when I told you I only used you to fuck, when I said I never wanted to actually be with you -- all of that horrible stuff I told you -- I lied,” Michael states, eyes burning into hers.  “I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” Y/N says quietly, diverting her eyes away. “You don’t have a choice,” Michael says. Y/N looks back at him, pressing her lips together. “I lied to you, about it all,” he begins again. “I had to, I had to make you leave me. I didn’t want to, I never wanted to lose you. But it wasn’t safe,” he informs. She shakes her head. “You’re full of shit,” Y/N whispers. “You told me back then you were lying about everything between us, all your feelings for me, about loving me. Now you’re saying you were lying about initially lying? How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?” She glares. “Why would I lie to you now?” Michael asks. “For your own sick amusement, to gain my trust and hurt me again, to fuck with me, I don’t know? You’re the fucking antichrist, you’re the evil one here. Do you need a reason?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re right. I am the antichrist, and because so, I had a very specific plan formed with Miriam Mead. You knew of her religion and what she believed in. We had a plan to get me in contact with the warlocks and witches. Things fell apart after,” he waves a hand off, “but that’s not what this is about,” he explains. “The plan that led up to the warlocks and witches -- it wasn’t safe for you. I had to protect you.” “You destroyed me,” Y/N admits. “You did anything but protect me.” “I had to keep you safe from getting hurt,” Michael declares. “The only one who hurt me was you, Michael,” she exclaims and pushes his arms down to walk away, wanting some distance between them. Michael turns to her as she takes a few steps away from him. He has her attention though, he knows he does, otherwise she would try leaving again. But he knows it’ll only last so long before she really will leave, and he’d lose any hope of getting her back.  “I hated what I had to do to you,” Michael says sorrowfully. “I loved you, so much. I still do,” Michael affirms. Y/N puts a hand up to halt him from talking further, narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t,” she starts, “don’t you dare do this to me.” Her eyes begin to water, making her curse under her breath from her behavior. She wipes her wet eyes away quickly and takes a deep breath. “This isn’t fair. You don’t get to fucking say these things, make me feel bad and want to believe you when you hurt me and broke my heart and made me realize what real agony is,” she looks at him with a despair. “I know I hurt you,” Michael says sadly. “But I had to. I had to so you wouldn’t come back to me. I couldn’t risk there being any chance that you’d come back over to see me or Miriam, or for you to be associated with me in any way. It would have brought you danger and harm. That’s why I had to do it,” he explains. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that then? Instead of what you did instead -- if you are telling the truth,” she crosses her arms once more. “Because of the risk,” he steps over. “If you knew there could be potential danger involved with me, I knew you’d be worrying and freaking out, and could maybe get involved somehow and then bring yourself to harm’s way. I wanted to avoid that risk.” Y/N in a way understands his explanation, but she still doesn’t completely believe him. Being who he is, he of course would be trying to entice her into forgiving him so he could cause her more pain again somehow. She wasn’t going to be falling for his words again, not like last time. Y/N takes a deep breath, exhaling quietly. She looks away, thinking for a moment. She looks back at him, seeing his face is trying but she can’t give in. “Can I leave now,” Y/N asks suddenly. “No,” Michael furrows his eyes at her abrupt question. “No you can’t leave now.” Michael understood her lack of trust and not being interested in what he has to say. He knows he really hurt her, but he thought he would have a chance to clarify things. But even with explaining, things weren’t falling into place as he had hoped. “Are you done explaining?” She asks next. Michael stares at her, hesitation present on his face. He doesn’t want to answer her question. “If you’re done explaining, I’d like to leave now.” And that’s why Michael didn’t want to answer the question. He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want her to leave his side again for any reason, even to just go to her room. He’d been deprived of her for so long, and finally had her in his grasp. She wasn’t making it easy, but at least they were communicating, which was more than they had done in prior years. He’d missed her so much. But Michael knew he had to keep talking and trying with her to make her understand truly, so he could be with her again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Michael says quietly. Y/N pauses for a beat. “What was supposed to happen then? What did you think would happen after you hurt and insulted me and treated me like shit?” She gives a look. “You thought I’d just forgive you and come running back into your arms?” She shakes her head. “I can’t trust you, Michael. I don’t know what’s real or not. Even if what you’re saying is true, I still don’t know if I,” she trails off. “What,” Michael questions. Y/N tries to think of her words carefully. “Just.. Just because if what you said is true, that doesn’t mean I want you now, or ever again, for that matter.” Michael laughs, looking away as the laughter leaves his throat, causing Y/N to glare at him again. “Are you seriously laughing? This isn’t funny,” she states. Michael looks at her, “I’m sorry. I wanted to let you have your moment, but I just couldn’t hold it in.” “You’re a fucking asshole,” Y/N exclaims, dropping her crossed arms. “Let’s be honest, shall we,” Michael begins, stepping over to her again. “Let’s not waste time lying to one another.” “I’m the only one that’s never lied between us.” Michael pauses, “Okay. You got me there. So, let’s have a fresh start: No lying.” Y/N shakes her head, bewildered at his behavior. “There’s no fresh start between us. I don’t want anything new starting between us.” Michael gives a look. “Just because I may or may not still have feelings for you, doesn’t mean I want to be with you again. Because I don’t. I don’t -- I don’t need you,” she tells him. “And why is that,” Michael hums, taking another step to her again.  “Because I value myself more and would prefer to be surrounded by people who actually care and value me too.” “Oh?” Michael raises his eyes curiously but also cocky. “People like who? It’s a bit limited around here.” “No thanks to you,” Y/N shouts. This shuts Michael up for the moment, causing him to look away. “I know there’s limited people in this Outpost, thanks to your fucking demise, Michael,” she glares. “I should hate you and want you dead for that alone. But clearly some fucking deranged part of me isn’t focused on that so much as I should be.” “Because you love me,” Michael looks at her. “You care about the world, of course you do. But you’re more upset with the way I treated you, compared to what I’ve done to the world because you still want to be with me, and there’s still hope in that for you compared to everything else.” “Don’t fucking tell me what I do and don’t want, or feel and don’t feel,” she yells. “You don’t know me, Michael! We haven’t seen each other in years and you can’t just say this shit like you still know who I am.” “At least I’m admitting it here,” Michael says, voice raising a bit. “Admitting what?” “Admitting I still love you!” He shouts now. Y/N stares at him, swallowing, his words sending a jolt of electricity through her.  “I still want to be with you,” Michael exclaims. “I’m at least admitting that if I don’t know who you are now, then I’d like to, because I want you. I want to be with you.” Michael was doing a good job with breaking her down. Trying to explain what he did, how he feels, that he still loves her. She wants to believe him, wants to say it’s all okay and go over and kiss him and forget the last few years without him. But she has to be stronger than that, she has to hold her ground. Michael was most likely fucking with her, trying to humiliate her just like before. “Well you fucking blew it and lost your chance. So, go cry to your ‘father’ about it, and maybe restore the world while you’re at it, you fuckface,” she exclaims. Michael laughs lowly at her behavior, “You need to be careful with how you speak to me, darling.” “Don’t call me that,” she glares. “And I don’t need to do or listen to anything you say if I don’t want to.  “Right. Fine,” Michael states nonchalantly. “Tell me, what is it you do want, then?” “I want you to leave me alone.” “What happened to our fresh start of no lying?” Michael grins. “You’re full of so much shit,” Y/N says, voice raising a bit, turning around and pushing a hand through her hair., becoming exasperated. “Fuck, I hate you.” She turns around, Michael standing there in front of her, just as close as earlier. Except now he grasps the side of her neck, where her jaw connects to her throat. Not choking her, but holding her in place. “You don’t fucking hate me,” Michael glares. “You might wish you do, but you don’t. And it’s killing you inside that you still love me. Don’t deny it, because I know it’s true. I feel it -- I feel you.” “I do hate you,” Y/N breathes out, glaring back. “I want nothing to do with you, how many times do I have to tell you this? I don’t need you.” “Yeah, and who do you have then? Huh?” He raises his eyes. ”One of the Outpost members here? Gallant? Coco?” Michael says carelessly. “Timothy,” he adds irritated. Y/N narrows her eyes. Timothy and Y/N were the closest in age at the Outpost and of course got along the best as they had the most in common. Both were in college, and were suddenly pulled away from their families when the bombs were announced and taken to this underground facility. Nothing romantic had grown between the two, mainly due to the fact that any romance and intimacy was forbidden in the Outpost. But also because Y/N only saw Timothy as a friend. She wasn’t sure where Timothy stood with his feelings, but she hadn’t bothered to question or really think about it since she knew nothing would happen and she never wanted it to with Timothy anyway. “I know you two are close,” he says casually, eyeing her carefully. “One second into his interview and I could sense the attraction and affection he has for you.” Y/N huffs, smirking. “Does that bother you,” Y/N asks tauntingly, almost provoking Michael like he did earlier to her. “I mean, I know Timothy’s never lied to me.” Michael tightens his hand on her throat. “What are you trying to say? You want him, you want Timothy?” Michael narrows his eyes, leaning in. “You really want him -- over me?” “Maybe I do,” Y/N says, forcing a grin across her face. She doesn’t like Timothy of course, but a little payback and torture to Michael was what she was focused on for the moment. And she was going to use Timothy as her pawn if she needed. “I know you’re only saying that to piss me off,” Michael scowls.  “Because the world revolves around you, including all of my actions and motives, right?” She rolls her eyes. Michael leans in more, “You would never be happy with Timothy. Nowhere compared to how I made you happy; could make you happy now.” “Timothy wouldn’t fucking lie to me,” she frowns. “Timothy actually cares about how I feel.” “Does he?” Michael smugly grins. “In every way?” Y/N glares at him. “You’d get bored of Timothy faster than you know.” “You don’t know him.” “I know you. Well enough,” he half shrugs. “And he couldn’t, wouldn’t, make you happy,” Michael says confidently. “He’d bore you. He doesn’t know the things you like, how you like them. He doesn’t know how to make you really feel.” “What the fuck are you going on about,” Y/N asks, grabbing Michael’s hand on her, feeling a stirring starting in her. She tries to push his hand away but he tightens his hold. “Timothy couldn’t please you the way I can,” Michael smirks.  Y/N’s eyes narrow, confused as to where Michael is taking this discourse. “Can he touch you like I do,” Michael hums, hand holding along her neck still, the other trailing along her body smoothly. “Does he know how to make you feel good?” “Michael, stop,” Y/N swallows, his words having an effect on her of course. But she didn’t want to acknowledge them, didn’t want to embrace them and have Michael know that he was having this carnal impact on her. “He wouldn’t have the first clue on how to make you cum,” Michael adds as he leans in so close, almost kissing her, eyes flickering over her face as her eyes stare back at him, pupils dilating.  “Michael,” Y/N warns. “No one has any idea how to make you scream or cry or shake in undeniable pleasure, except me,” Michael seethes, grabbing her throat fully with a tight hold, and pulling her into his body. Y/N diverts her eyes away, hating herself more than anything for Michael’s words having this effect on her, especially so quickly when she was just so annoyed and angry with him seconds prior. She was holding her ground, for the most part, but now it was all falling apart.  “No one can fuck you like I can. No one will ever be able to make you feel pleasure so deep, so intensely, like I can. You do need me for that, if not anything else.” Y/N looks at him, trying to regain some of her composure. “You’re a real piece of work. Trying to seduce me into, what, into making me forgive you or?” Michael lets go of her throat, only for his hand to slide down to her collarbones and down her arm before dropping. “To make you realize that I’m here for you in whatever way you need; that I’ll have you in any way at all as long as I can have you in some way.”  “I have everyone here in the Outpost to be whatever I need. We’re.. a family,” she says, knowing it’s bullshit, but tries to come off as though she doesn’t need Michael for any reason because she “so clearly” has whatever she needs with everyone else. Michael rolls his eyes and laughs a bit humorlessly. “What is this Disney bullshit you’re going on about now? You’re a family?” He shakes his head. “No. Your hopes for them are too high. You’re not a real family, they don’t give a shit about anything but their own selfish lives.” “Can you blame them,” Y/N snaps. “You took their lives away by giving them this shithole of a world instead,” she throws her arms up exasperated. “It only makes sense they’d care about their own lives as they don’t want it to get any worse. It’s not their fault. It’s yours,” she exclaims.  Michael takes a step back, feeling a sudden shift in him. Not a good one. A heartfelt, sorrow one. He’s tried everything he can think of, everything he knows of Y/N to try and get her to give in, to forgive hin, to accept his words and let the past go and to be with him again. But it wasn’t working.  What’s worse is that even though this place was full of people who had such darkness in themselves, Y/N still validated and defended them. The goodness in Y/N was something that always attracted him to her. It was sickening to him otherwise, with anyone else. But she was always the exception. But he wasn’t the exception for her. The goodness she possessed was his last hope and it hasn’t worked at any angle. “And years later, with your hardened heart and inner turmoil, you still manage to find the goodness in others, trying to rationalize their behavior,” Michael says quietly. His eyes flicker over her face. “Why can’t you do that for me?” He whispers. Y/N doesn’t say anything.  Michael takes another step back, turning away a bit. “Nothing is breaking you down.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I tried explaining. I tried seducing. I tried to bring up and make you see everyone’s true motives and selfishness. And none of it matters,” Michael looks down. “I.. really hurt you.” Y/N swallows, trying to keep an impassive expression on her face and crosses her arms quietly. ”I always thought that, even though I’d lost you, there would still be a way for us to find our way back to each other. I never wanted to lose my future with you,” he looks at her. “That’s why I secured your spot. Even when we weren’t on speaking terms, you were my first priority,” Michael exhales a discreet breath. “I made sure you had a spot here in the Outpost, before the bombs went off so we could find each other again,” he explains, sounding more like he’s talking to himself now. “You’re the only person I’ve ever cared about and loved. But, I guess I’ve ruined that.” Michael waves a hand, the doors in the room opening as he turns around. “You may leave,” he says flatly, walking off. Y/N watches him walk to his desk, shoulders slumped now compared to his superior, cocky stance before. She pauses a second, but walks over to the door, finally free to leave. But she stops, looking towards the ground, knowing she wants to turn back around to Michael.  Part of her was screaming at herself for stopping, cursing at her to hurry up and leave, to save her heart so it wouldn’t be broken even more. But the other part was feeling the agony already of being apart from Michael, and she hadn’t even left the room yet.  Though she’d spent the last however many minutes bickering back and forth with Michael, at least she was talking with him at all, which was different to how she felt before the interview when she despised him and didn’t want to talk to him at all.  Maybe she never really did despise him. She was just hurt and afraid of opening back up to him in the fear of him hurting her again. She couldn’t have actually hated him, now that she thinks about it because she does love him. And you can’t have love if there’s hate.  She begins to turn around to Michael, but stops. She bites her lip and makes her foot move forward, walking away from the room, letting the doors close behind her, and leaving Michael all over again.

Michael didn’t like it, but he understood Y/N’s reaction and why she was so hesitant and untrusting of him. He had hurt her in the end on that day, saying awful things to her even if he never really did mean it. Of course she was weary and cautious of Michael now. Why wouldn’t she be suspicious and skeptical and so unwilling to be back with him?

Michael could always place a spell, use his abilities or his father to make her forgive him and be back with him. But he didn’t want her love and want of being with him to be unnatural or forced in any way. It was going to kill him for the rest of his life, but he was going to have to live with his consequences. 

~

Later that evening, with Michael settled in his room, he sits at his desk, typing on his computer about some important matters. He doesn’t even bother thinking about the interviews and selections, knowing what he has planned for everyone. Except Y/N. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with her yet. 

The door of Michael’s room suddenly swings open, the door slamming back against the wall until it falls back and closes. Michael turns in his chair, narrowing his eyes as he sees Y/N practically stomping into the room and over to him.

Michael stands up, narrowing his eyes at the sudden outburst. “What’s this?” “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” Y/N exclaims as she reaches him. Michael looks at her confused, “I don’t know what you mean -- for this time.” “You’re an asshole. An infuriating, fucking..” she huffs out, annoyed. Michael raises his eyes. “I told you earlier to stay out of my head. But apparently, you can’t get out even when you don’t try,” Y/N raises her arms, them slapping back down to he sides.  “What are you talking about,” Michael asks her.  Y/N sighs. “That day... that final day between us...” Y/N starts, voice faltering as she thinks back. “When I said I knew there was something wrong with you, when I said I could see something wasn’t right.. Was that what what it was? You were upset about,” she shrugs, “what you had to do?” Michael nods. “Yes. It hurt me to see you hurting,” he looks down. “Especially when I was the one causing it.” Y/N studies him cautiously. She hates herself for all of her actions. She should be stronger, but Michael’s hold on her is too powerful, coming to full term with seeing him again after so long. 

After Y/N left Michael earlier, all she did was think about him and everything he said. A lot of it could be bullshit and made up, just a ruse to fuck with her and hurt her again. But some of it made sense too. Especially about securing her a spot at the Outpost. She hadn’t heard of the Outposts spots before or done the family tree DNA test like Timothy did. She didn’t know how she got a spot, no one ever answered her except Michael now. So if Michael really didn’t care about her, why would he go through so much trouble of securing a place for her to survive the bombs? If he didn’t care, wouldn’t he just let her come to her end with the bombs, not even bothering to give her a second thought after so long and letting her die off like everyone else?  If Michael really did save her, and really was telling the truth about hurting her just so he could keep her safe, then... “I don’t know what any of this means,” Y/N starts, Michael looks at her. “I don’t know what’s going to happen or what you’re going to do, and quite frankly, I don’t think I want to know,” she says boldly. “But what I do know, is that, even though you hurt me and broke me down and caused me all this heartbreak,” Y/N trails off, Michael sighing over her words, feeling upset with himself. “I know that.. I stupidly for some fucked up reason.. still love you.” Michael grins a bit, a bit of hope welling up inside him. “I don’t know what any of this means,” she repeats. “But, I’m willing to,” she stops. She sighs. Michael grabs her hands, making her look away.  “I know what I did caused you to be apprehensive of me now. I understand that. But as long as you’re here with me now, I swear, I will never hurt you again, in any way.” She looks at him.  “I can’t make you trust me again straight away. I know that too. But what I can do from here on out is show you how sorry I am. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you to prove to you I’m sorry and that this is real and I won’t hurt you. I love you, Y/N. I can’t bear another moment without you,” Michael pleads. Y/N hesitates, taking his words in. She might be stupid for doing this, but love makes you crazy. It was time she embraced it.  “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he cups her cheek, eyes showing the same sadness they did that same day when he ended things. “I’m so sorry. I’ll always be sorry. I never want to let you go again for any reason.” Y/N knows she can’t bear another moment without Michael either. So she gives in, leaning up and pressing her lips to his, a surge of fire, a longing flooding through the two of them as they kiss, feeling like they can finally breathe again. In the end, they will always find their way back to each other one way or another. No matter who ends up showing at the door.

#Michael Langdon #AHS #American Horror Story #Michael Langdon Writing #Michael Langdon story #Michael Langdon imagine #Michael Langdon fan fic #Michael Langdon fanfic #Michael Langdon one shot #Michael Langdon oneshot #Michael Langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x fem reader #Michael Langdon x fem! reader #Duncan SHepherd #Duncan SHepherd imagine #Duncan Shepherd writing #Duncan Shepherd story #Michael Langdon edit #ahs imagine

[saxonspud]

Outcast - Chapter 17

Just want to say thank you to everyone who sent me asks and private messages of support yesterday. Without your help, this story would have probably not been continued, so I dedicate this chapter to you. I hope you enjoy.

The trip from horseshoe overlook was all but made in silence. By the time Lenny arrived back, you had been lead to the wagon by Tilly, and all that remained to pack up, were the tents.

Dutch drove the wagon, and as promised, you sat beside him. Neither of you spoke. He knew what a serious undertaking this was, and he also knew how much this was going to hurt you. But it was what you wanted.

Lenny rode ahead, guiding the convoy of wagons. He dropped back once to ride next to Dutch.

“What's going on Dutch? I left Charles at the new camp, and he’s doing some weird stuff.” Lenny questioned.

Dutch sighed, “Don’t worry about it son, it’s complicated, but Charles… He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch glanced at you, but his face was expressionless. You had a feeling he didn’t know exactly what he was going to be expected to do. You were pretty sure that Charles would tell him, when the time came. He’d already told you that Charles knew what your lore and customs were.

He looked back at Lenny, “did Arthur go for Micah?”

Lenny nodded, glanced at you and carried on leading the convoy.

After about an hour, Lenny turned up a secluded path, through some trees. Not unlike the path which lead to Horseshoe overlook.

The sun was beginning to sit lower in the sky, although it wasn’t yet beginning to set.

Charles walked over to the wagons as they came to a halt.

He looked up at Dutch, “do you want to do this tonight, there should be time before the sun sets?” he asked.

Dutch glanced at you, then at Charles.

“Yes, I want to get this over with as soon as I can,” he glanced at you, “for both of us.”

Charles nodded. “Then you better walk with me, so I can explain how it will go.”

Dutch nodded, and climbed off the wagon.

He looked up at you, “stay there Nizhoni, until its time?”

You nodded. You gripped onto the seat of the wagon, with your good hand. Your heart beating faster than normal. You knew all to well what was going to happen. You had been through it before with your people in the mountains. Last time, you were dragged kicking and screaming. Control taken away from you. This time you were giving control to someone else to do exactly the same, which was a lot more frightening.

Dutch called across to Susan, “Can you get my tent setup first, then the medical supplies sorted?”

Susan glanced at you then back at Dutch and nodded, before chivvying everyone up to get working.

Dutch then continued his walk with Charles. You hoped that Dutch wouldn’t change his mind when he realised what he would have to do.

Everyone in the gang knew what you had asked Dutch to do, and why. They knew as much as Dutch about the actual ceremony, which wasn't much. That was of course, with the exception of Charles.

As you sat on the wagon, you heard footsteps and looked down to see Abigail.

She went to touch you with her hand, a comforting gesture, but you quickly moved away.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I forgot,” she hesitated, “I’m sorry Nizhoni, I cant stay. I don't want Jack to see this, I hope you understand,” she concluded, her voice cracking.

You couldn’t see her clearly, but you guessed by the tone of her voice that she was upset.

“Nizhoni understand. Boy too young to watch,” you agreed.

Abigail lowered her head, trying to contain the tears that were pooling in her eyes.

“You’re such a good person, Nizhoni. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You gripped the seat a bit tighter, your chest feeling a little tight.

“go, take boy and go,” you asserted, you voice breaking as much as Abigail’s.

You watched Abigail walk towards the horses, but you were surprised when you glanced down and heard John.

“Nizhoni,” he started. “I know we didn't get off to a good start, but you saved my life. I ain't ever gonna forget that. If anyone can get through this, you can.”

You smiled, “Scar look good, John Marston.”

John chuckled, as he touched his cheek with his fingers. His face took on a more serious expression.

“I wish I could be here, to support you in some way, but I have to look after Abigail and Jack.”

You nodded, “John Marston look after family, No wolves in Rhodes.”

John nodded, “Ya know Nizhoni, we really don't deserve you,” he added, as he walked to where Abigail was waiting for him with Jack.

He glanced back to look at you. He knew you thought you had brought bad luck because of the mark on your back. To be fair a lot of things had happened. He had been mauled by wolves, Micah had set Sadie’s house on fire, then got arrested for murder. You’d been arrested and now bounty hunters were looking for you, as well as Arthur and Dutch because they thought you had murdered Molly. It could be a load of superstitious clap trap. Whether it was or not, you were prepared to go through this agony, to try and stem the bad luck. You were either very stupid, or very brave. He was beginning to think it was the latter.

Dutch and Charles returned from the walk along the shoreline. Dutch looked significantly paler, than when he had left you in the wagon.

He walked over to where Hosea was standing.

“Can you hold this for me,” he asked, removing his jacket.

Hosea frowned, “is everything ok, you look… Well you don’t look very well.”

Dutch rolled his eyes, and started to roll up his sleeves.

“I never thought I’d be doing this to someone I really cared about!”

Hosea hummed, “its not too late to...” he started.

“Yes it is,” Dutch interrupted, “she needs this, she’s terrified but she’s doing it anyway. She doesn't think that there's any other way. Its fucking religious crap, but its her fucking religious crap. Once this is done… At least she wont think she’s possessed by some serpent demon!”

Hosea frowned, “what?”

Dutch rolled his eyes. “Its what they believe. A great serpent...Snake, from the underworld sees the mark, and sends a demon so that anyone she touches gets bad luck. If she’d survived in the mountains, and her tribe had taken her back, they would have done this to her. At least with us, she has a better chance of surviving.”

Hosea nodded, “do you still have the medicine the doctor gave you?”

Dutch nodded, and pulled the phial from his pocket, and handed it to Hosea.

Hosea examined the bottle, “liquid morphine. As soon as this is over, and she’s in your tent, give her a dose.”

Dutch nodded, and put the phial back in his waistcoat pocket.

“Once I’ve done this, I’m the only one who’s allowed to touch her, until she’s in my tent. I want you and Susan ready, as soon as I put her on my cot.”

Hosea nodded, “understood.”

Dutch sighed and walked over to where Charles was standing.

“Lets get this done, Charles,” he stated.

Charles walked over to the wagon, where you were sitting.

“Nizhoni? Are you ready?”

You nodded. You climbed from the back of the wagon. Charles had already gone to the back of the wagon, where some of your stuff had been stowed.

He picked up your bow, quiver full of arrows and your knife. He gave them to you.

“Follow me, the path is clear, I wont touch you,” he advised.

You followed Charles to a small clearing in front of the scout camp fire.

Dutch was already there, holding something in the flames.

In the clearing, stakes had already been hammered into the ground.

You placed your bow to the left and your arrows to the right. Your knife you placed at one end, the end you were facing. You started to remove your clothes, and these were place behind you.

Other members of the gang, were watching. Most at a distance.

Sean stood with Karen, when he saw your clothes being removed, his jaw dropped.

“Jesus, that Dutch is one lucky bastard,” he scoffed.

Karen thumped him on the arm, “shut your gob, this ain't no laughing matter!” she hissed.

Susan who was standing next to Mary-Beth, looked at how pale she was.

“You don’t have to watch, if you’d rather not,” she whispered.

Mary-Beth nodded, but looked on regardless.

Hosea, had already averted his eyes. He stayed where he was, more to support Dutch than anything.

Javier, stood next to Tilly, his arm gently wrapped around her.

“Don’t look Chica, if you don't want to,” he soothed, But Tilly also stayed put.

You Knelt down and raised your arms skyward.

You began to speak in your own language.

Dutch looked at you, even though he didn't know what you were saying, he felt that the words had real meaning to you, and the sound of your voice, brought a lump to his throat.

You began;

O Great Spirit

whose voice I hear in the winds,

and whose breath gives life

to all the world hear me!

I am small and weak

I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset

Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy...myself.

Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.

Once you had finished speaking, you lowered your arms. You looked at Charles and nodded, before laying flat on your stomach.

At this point, Dutch walked towards you.

He slipped the loop of a rope around your wrist, securing the other end tightly to one of the stakes.

You winced as the rope cut into your flesh.

He continued and did this to your other wrist and your ankles.

The rope between you and the stakes were pulled taught, making it impossible for you to move.

You turned your head towards you bow.

Dutch walked to your head, and crouched down.

“Open your mouth Nizhoni,” he whispered.

You complied, and he gently place a piece of wood between your teeth.

Standing up he walked back to the fire. You could hear him moving something in the flames. You knew what it was, you bit down on the wood, trying to prepare yourself for the pain to come.

As Dutch had walked back to the fire, Arthur and Micah had arrived at the new camp. Walking from the hitching posts, Micah had stared at the sight before him.

“What the fuck is Dutch doing to that redskin!” he exclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up Micah, or I’ll hang you myself,” Arthur retorted, punching Micah in the shoulder.

Before he had a chance to reply, he watched Dutch walk over to you, with something metal in his hand. It was glowing white hot!

Dutch stared at you, even like this you were beautiful, he watched as you breathed, you were trembling. Your ribs poking through your skin with each inhale. The doctor was right, you were pitifully thin.

Dutch glanced at Charles, as he swallowed down the bile that was rising in his throat.

Charles nodded his head.

Dutch rammed the white hot metal circular disk, attached to the end of the pole, down onto your back, covering the mark that was already there.

The sound that came from you would have been enough to scare the hounds of hell back to hades.

It was guttural and raw.

Every muscle in your body stiffened, as unimaginable pain ripped through your body.

Dutch held the burning metal disk on your back, for what seemed like an eternity, until Charles gave him the nod to remove it.

The smell of burning flesh was rancid, and Dutch turned his head away, not only because of the smell, but because he couldn’t stand to look at what he had done.

The gentle breeze that blew across the camp, wafted the smell to the onlookers.

Bizarrely at same time as Dutch thrust the burning metal onto your back, a low grumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and a streak of lightening cracked on the mountains in the distance.

Mary-Beth and Susan, had looked away, the minute Dutch picked up the brand.

Tilly, had screamed, and buried her head into Javier’s chest, sobbing. Karen had wrapped her arms around Sean, burying her head in his chest. She didn't cry, she was completely silent.

Sean looked towards the mountains, “hope that struck the fuckers that did this to her,” he hissed, quietly.

In truth, it had all been over in less than ten seconds, but to you and the onlookers it seemed much longer.

Dutch flung the brand at the fire, as Charles handed him a wooden cup, intricately decorated with the morning star. It was filled with water. Dutch didn't have time to think about the symbolism, which Charles had told him earlier was a sign of courage, and purity of spirit.  He just poured the water, over the burn mark on your back. Still hot, it hissed, and steam rose.

Dutch looked momentarily at the place where your mark had been, the serpent mark had been erased, replaced with a blank circle, burnt into your back.

He quickly ran to where your knife lay. Picking it up, he sliced through the ropes.

Your whole body, had begun to shake.

“Quickly,” Charles hissed, “she’s going into shock!”

Dutch quickly picked you up, being careful not to touch the newly made mark on your back, and ran to his tent.

Hosea was already there holding the flap open.

Dutch put you on the cot, laying on your stomach. Your teeth were still clenched tight on the wood.

He gently stroked your face. As he did your jaw relaxed, the wood dropped out of your mouth, and you started to sob.

“I know, Nizhoni, I’m so sorry.” he soothed.

Dutch quickly pulled the phial out of his pocket.

“Nizhoni, sweetheart, I need you to open your mouth,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes, gasping for breath between sobs, you opened your mouth.

Dutch dropped some of the liquid on your tongue, which you swallowed.

“Gone?” you rasped.

Dutch stroked your face, “Yes Nizhoni, its gone.”

Your eyelids began to flutter, as the painkilling drug took effect.

Dutch gently kissed your forehead, as Hosea and Susan walked into the tent, armed with medical supplies to tend the wound on your back.

#rdr2 fanfic #original native american character #dutch van der linde #lenny summers #charles smith #hosea matthews #susan grimshaw #tilly jackson #javier escuella #mary-beth gaskill #karen jones #sean maguire #arthur morgan #micah bell #john marston #abigail roberts #wattpad #a03

[deus-ex-knoxina]

ok honestly i cannot BELIEVE that i wrote and posted vanilla ice cream the day i got my wisdom teeth out and not only does it make sense, it makes sense enough to be funny in the ways i intended it to be funny

#although apparently i was only actually a little off in the car ride home #and then i was fine #still though i hear stories about people who get their wisdom teeth removed #and are just OUT of it #and i just kinda vibed and watched tv #the word of deus