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justkending · 2 months

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On my nerves. (Steve Rogers One-shot)

Summary: Y/N and Steve have a complex relationship. On a busted mission, some conversation pieces come up that need to be solved.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Avenger)

Word Count: 3100+

A/N: I did a small poll on who I should write for next, and I got an even amount of votes, so I decided on Steve! I haven't written for him for a long time and thought it was deserved this long in. So enjoy these fluffy enemies to semi-lovers one-shot :)

______________

Steve watched, as if in slow-mo, as a knife passed his face and embedded itself into the chest cavity of a man close to getting the jump on him.

"So much for having this mission in the bag, huh?" Y/N's sly comment followed as she jumped from a banister down to the level Steve was on in the attic of an old church.

"The rule was no killing," Steve grunted in frustration as the man he had grasped by the neck fainted, and he tossed him to the side.

"Yeah, well, someone was going to die, and it was either him or the person who's supposed to be running this mission. You should be grateful I didn't choose the second option," she smirked, straightening her tactical vest as she scanned their surroundings. "What's the update?"

Steve could have reprimanded her more, as he was used to doing, but they were on a time crunch, and the men they were sent to take in under SHIELD's order hadn't gotten the memo of no killing.

"Masgood isn't here," he sighed, swiftly anchoring his shield to his back. "He must have gotten word we were coming and staged the place to look like he'd be here."

"Yeah, it seems to be his MO," Y/N sighed, bending as she dug through the pockets of the unconscious assailant.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the body for clues, duh," she replied with a tone of disinterest. She paused, looking up at Steve. "I know this isn't your first rodeo, so why are you acting like it?" One of her forearms rested on her knee as she squatted over the body and dug through his pockets unbothered.

Steve rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet as look at the space. "Something feels off about all this."

"When does it not? We chase bad guys with evil and sadistic intentions as our career. I'd be worried if it felt right," she grunted softly as she stood up and moved to another body.

Steve moved to a window off to the side and looked at the street and environment below for any more clues.

Their target was a man in charge of a large human trafficking ring. Ivan Masgood. An infamous drug lord who started poking around in a new field of illegal activities. Like most felons, he had personal goons and connections that kept him close to untouchable, but SHIELD had plans to shut that down now that he was tapping into the stealing of innocent adolescents from the streets.

"I say we tie these idiots up for the agents that'll come clean up this mess and make our way to the restaurant down a few blocks. Looks like a good Mediterranean place," she sighed, walking over and leaning against a pillar behind the window where Steve was monitoring pedestrians.

Steve turned to her with an annoyed face, one that was a staple for their duo and eyed her.

"We're on a job. A job that involves a man who is taking advantage of innocent children."

"Yes, and we can't solve it on an empty stomach," she shrugged, pushing on the wood. "And this place is empty. We've handled the few goons here, and now we move on."

"Is it really that simple to you?" Steve huffed, crossing his arms as he turned to her.

"If by simple you mean the practiced next step, then yes. It is," she nodded with no hesitance, even with his stern glare fixed on her.

"You're impossible to-"

"Shhh," she hushed, raising her hand and slightly turning her head.

Steve knew better to question her when she did that. Her hearing was better than his most of the time. Her enhancements weren't far from his own, but sometimes they proved to be even more sensitive than his.

He mouthed a "What?" and she shook her head as a hint to hold on. A few moments passed before she shook her head and returned to reality.

"False alarm," she turned, looking at the only door in and out of the attic. "Help me tie these assholes up, and then we're getting dinner."

"Y/N," Steve started, but she ignored him and searched for rope or anything of length to keep them secure.

Three men tied up with both electric chords and Christmas lights were still unconscious as Steve called in the clean-up crew that was there minutes after Y/N and Steve were in the front of the church, giving a quick rundown of their mission.

"It was a 50/50 shot, Cap. Can't get too hung up on it," Rodney, one of the agents who had been working on the case with them, assured.

"Doesn't make it any less frustrating," Steve sighed before grunting at the pressure hitting his chest. He looked down to see Y/N holding a pile of clothes on his sternum.

"Change. We have a date," She grinned, already in street clothes herself.

He gave her a once over and noticed the small grin on Rodney's lips before he quickly walked away.

"Y/L/N!" Steve yelled after her as she turned and was already moving on to her next task. He groaned and slumped as he looked at the jeans and baseball Henley picked out for him. A hat and sunglasses paired on top.

__________

"Why are we here?" Steve grumbled under his breath as they sat in a booth at the Mediterranian restaurant that looked family-owned but had the ambiance of a well-off family—the two fit in a way that raised a few questions.

He wasn't sure how she had managed to drag him there, but either way, he was there, and something about Y/N orchestrating this entire meal left him confused.

"I haven't had a full meal since last night," she answered, staring at the menu before grabbing the waitress's attention as she balanced two plates in hand. "Can we get the drink menu, please?"

"I'll grab it on my way back," she smiled kindly, her voice accented with a Grecian tongue.

"Thank you," Y/N smiled back kindly and went back to the menu. "I heard their Sangria is amazing. And it's homemade."

"Y/N," Steve ground through his teeth. He was fed up with this side quest that served no purpose. "What are we doing here?" he articulated each word.

"Jeez, Cap. Get the popsicle stick out of your ass and relax some. We're just having dinner and waiting for the show," she responded, putting the plastic-covered menu down and throwing her arm over her side of the booth.

"What show-"

"Drinks?" a teenage boy who looked to be one of the owners' kids begrudgingly asked for their orders.

"I'll take water for now, and this one will have a double scotch neat to help ease his never-leaving glower," she smiled up at the kid, who just blinked at her, and Steve burned holes in her head from the side. "Water. We'll both do water."

"Right…" the kid grumbled, not bothering to write the order as he stalked off.

"You said this had to do with the case. That's the only reason I'm here," Steve intertwined his hands on the table and took a breath as he watched her. In truth, she had vaguely mentioned something about the case, and he ran with that one bullet point, which put him in this position.

"Tell me. How does one sign up to gain your trust? Do I have to jump in the line of fire a second time to get it, or is it like whoever gets your coffee order right without asking? Maybe something in between there?" she leaned forward on the table.

Six months ago, Y/N had jumped in front of a blast from a mutant's powers for Steve, and it had benched her for over a week with the aftereffects.

He hadn't expected her to make that kind of sacrifice, and he had been more than grateful and did his best to show it during her healing time and afterward. But at the end of the day, her snarky comments, struggle to stay professional, and blatant disregard for orders made it hard for him not to be aggravated when she did things.

"It's not trust as much as it's being out of the know for what the real reason for us being here is," he softly said when she looked at him with eyes that seemed to genuinely want to know why he treated her with little patience where he normally gave it freely. "I like to be informed."

She watched his eyes closely as if waiting for the but, but then she tensed ever so slightly, and her eyes flicked behind his shoulder casually.

"That's also known as trust. Not knowing the reasons but counting on the person putting you in the position that they wouldn't do it with ill intent. But if you want your answer, it's behind you. Careful how you turn," she said with a straight face as she looked out the window next to them.

Steve furrowed his eyebrow but discreetly twisted enough to see what she was alluding to.

There he was. Ivan Masgood. With four bodyguards around him and a few associates coming through the back entrance, one of the employees ushered him to a secluded corner for him and his posse.

When Steve turned back around, Y/N was on her phone as if just another customer waiting for their meal.

"How'd you-?"

"I'm good at my job despite what some think." Her comment wasn't missed by Steve, and he could hear the slightest bit of pain in her words. "I overheard some of his goons talking not so confidentially at the church. He stupidly gave away their Randevu point and mentioned a meeting with a potential contact while they waited for us to fall for the trap."

"Was it the two at the front door?" Steve questioned, thinking back to their infiltration of the church/ hideout.

"Yeah, dumb and dumber. I think they just got promoted cause the one who leaked this info bragged about being moved to guard his private residence." She put her phone away and fiddled with the paper wrapper from the straw as she explained. "I can promise if they figure out how we got the intel to come here, he will not be guarding any residence in the near future."

Steve was a little surprised. Y/N had always been good at her job. Hell, there was a reason she ran with The Avengers themselves. Super enhancements helped, but she'd always been more than resourceful in her spying, too.

But sometimes, he didn't see her as taking her job seriously, so when she got the jump on things before him, he felt bad for undermining her.

He monitored the place now that it was a possible environment for a fight. Taking note of the details like exits, number of people, tables, resources, and make-shift weapons if needed.

"Have you contacted Rodney?" he asked as he casually surveyed the place.

"Just messaged. They'll have a team a block away to go if needed," she nodded. "For now, we eat," she smiled overly brightly as the waiter came back over with their drinks.

They ordered, but Steve got the smallest appetizer only to make it less conspicuous as customers.

"Eagle's leaving the nest," Y/N hummed as she ate the last bite of her meal, and the group they had been monitoring walked toward the back alley.

Steve shifted in his seat just enough to see the exit, and they both nodded in confirmation of their next move. Y/N slapped down a wad of cash and shuffled out of the booth where Steve offered his hand, and they left out the front.

For the second time that day, Steve watched as a blade whirled past him, but this time, it implanted itself into the tire of an SUV in the back alley, followed by a loud pop.

The assailants hoping to make a getaway were out of a car now, and Steve had taken the advantage to knee the driver's side door where the man halfway in it, ricocheted his head off the frame and collapsed on the ground.

"On your left!" Y/N shouted as she rangled her own opponent, and Steve noticed another one of Masgood's men escaping.

Not wanting to lose his position since Masgood himself was still in the car he had cornered, he angled and calculated the right throw for his shield to take him down. And with the right aim…

"Fuck!" the man shouted before falling down to the concrete seconds after getting smacked in the temple with the vibranuim disc.

Steve turned after hearing Y/N grunt and saw that two of her attackers had cornered her and were getting a jump on her.

"Y/L/N!" he shouted, stepping her way, but she used another man's body as if a wall and walked her feet up his torso until she was backflipping and rendering them both helpless instantly.

"Rogers, Masgood!" she panted once back on her feet and pointed behind him.

Masgood had pulled out the other side of the car and was positioning a gun right at Steve. Everything happened so fast that Steve didn't know where the gunshot had landed after he ducked from the barrel.

A scream followed, and thinking his aim hit someone else, Steve looked around for the injured only to see Masgood holding his shoulder where the butt of a blade was jutting out.

"You fucking bitch!" Masgood turned his attention to Y/N, who had been smiling at her shot. He dropped quickly to grab the gun that fell out of his grip, but before he could get to it, Steve slid over the hood and tackled him.

"That's no way to speak to a lady," Steve gritted out as he pinned him to the ground and brought his hands around his back.

Any of Masgood's men that may have escaped the narrow alley had been caught by the backup team Y/N had set up a block away. By the time the fight was over, eight men were already in custody, and Masgood was locked in a contained SHIELD van.

After going through a briefing with Rodney, who had been instructing the team outside the alley, Steve and Y/N finally took a minute to breathe.

"Thanks for packing my shield," Steve said kindly as they moved to their SUV.

"Didn't want to have you fighting without your comfort item," she smiled but winced as she rolled her shoulder.

"You ok?" he stopped in his tracks, moving in front of her to keep her from going any further.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, moving her shirt sleeve and looking at her arm for the wound. "Just a scratch."

Steve didn't hesitate to shift the long sleeve to see the cut in the fabric and the blood that had soaked through it.

"You were supposed to get checked by the medics," he studied the injury, and she hissed at the pressure of his gentle touch, which was enough to sting.

"It's nothing a bandaid can't fix. Besides, it'll be a scar come morning," she tried to brush his hand off, but he gave her a stern look at the action. "Why are you so worried? I figured you could care less if I walked out with a katana protruding from my gut."

Her eyes refused to meet his, and he hated the feeling that overcame him at the idea that she thought he wouldn't be phased by something like that.

"That's not true," he said gently, his hand loosened its grip but didn't leave her arm.

"You sure as hell don't act any other way," she mumbled, looking at his hand and placing her own on his to try and remove it. "Seriously. You don't have to act like you care just cause you feel bad-"

"Y/N, I'm not acting," he turned her face to his, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger. "I would never wish to see you hurt."

She didn't fight the hold he had her in, but she gave him weary eyes at his comment.

"Your words tell me otherwise, Steve." Her words were said with a form of hurt that he never pictured her holding.

"I'm sorry," he lowered his head every so slightly to catch her eye line better. "I'm sorry that I'm a hardass around you and make you feel like I'd rather see you hurt or injured than alive and well."

"I don't understand what I've done to-" she started and pulled her head back before he, without thought, pulled her arm he had a grip on into him, making her body crash into his.

She froze initially, but when his arms wrapped around her back, he rested his head on her. She sighed and fell into it. She needed that hug more than he realized.

"You get on my nerves, Y/L/N, but it's not in a way that I'd wish never to experience it again. I act like I can't stand it, but truthfully, I need someone to keep me in check the way you do," he muttered as he rested his chin on her head. "I'm sorry I don't give you the benefit of the doubt where you deserve it most."

"Why?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Honestly?" he hummed, pulling her back and looking at her still in his embrace. "I think it scares me how much I actually care when you drive me as crazy as you do."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned her head at him.

"What do you mean, Rogers?" she said in almost a whisper.

"I mean, I can't wrap my head around how you constantly get on my nerves, but I like it."

There was a pause as they stared at each other, and her lips slowly curved.

"Steve. Are you confessing that you may actually like me?" she grinned.

He chuckled under his breath, making his chest vibrate.

"I'm confessing that we may have some things to figure out, I guess," he nodded, not feeling hesitant at surprisingly admitting that.

"Well, isn't that a 180 from how we started the day," she laughed, pulling back. "How about we stop for a sweet treat for this discussion that I'm definitely pulling you into when we get to the compound?"

"Am I going to regret confessing this?" he scrunched his nose but couldn't help the smile that followed.

"It's me. What do you think?" she shrugged, moving toward the SUV passenger side.

"Good to know our ways aren't changing much," he sighed, following behind her to open her door.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @torayuri777 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

#steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x avenger reader #reader insert #mcu reader insert #justkending #marvel insert #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers

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the-princess-of-loki · 4 months

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One last time

Paring: Loki x Fem!You

Warnings: angst, smut, graphic description of smut, minors DNI, oral f!receiving.

Loki spends one last night with you before going away to the branch tree.

Something was off. Loki was being his usual charming self with you, opening a bottle of wine for your dinner with a smile. However, you could notice something in his green eyes. Over all these years, you have learned how to read the God of Mischief’s trickery eyes, and they were not as usual. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what was happening, but you knew something wasn’t right. You asked him but he kept telling you that everything was alright. You both enjoyed your quiet dinner in your apartment, not talking much as it was obvious that Loki’s mind was elsewhere. You didn’t want to disturb him while he meditated, even when you were dying to know what was bothering him.

After dinner, you felt Loki’s hand on the sides of your waist as you did the dishes. At the same time, his lips kissed your neck softly. You smiled and blushed, like an adolescent, but that was always the reaction his kisses and touches had over you. He left a trail of kisses down your neck and up again until his lips were right next to your ear.

“My beautiful…would you let me have you tonight?” Loki asked in a whisper as he used his hands to turn you around so you would face him. “I really need you, my dear,” He insisted, resting his forehead on yours and closing his eyes. You could feel the pain in his words and even though you didn’t know what caused it, you knew that he would tell you when he was ready.

You left everything you were doing to pass your arms behind his neck. You joined your lips with his without a single inch of doubt. You could feel Loki’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your lips met in a wild and urgent kiss. It was a moment of pure passion and desire, but there was also a sweetness to it that made your heart swell with emotion. Loki’s kisses were always like that: pure fire and explosion, but sweetness and love at the same time. It was a perfect combination you have become addicted to.

Loki moved his hands from your waist to your hips and then to the back of your thighs, where he lifted your legs. You crossed your ankles behind his back and then he walked you both towards the bedroom. He never stopped kissing you, not even for a second as he walked in long strides, as he always did. As soon as you reached your bedroom, Loki laid you on the bed carefully before joining you. He stroked the side of your body as he brought your lips to his again. His fervent kiss ignited your whole body and you couldn’t help but search for more contact with his body. You passed one of your legs on top of him and Loki grabbed your thigh as his other hand caressed your neck almost lazily. Your fingers interlaced with his long, soft, wavy black hair as your kiss deepened. His tongue entered your mouth and joined yours in a sensual dance. You loved every one of his kisses, but when he was like this, all passion and love, it was almost too much for your heart to survive.

One by one, both your clothes started to disappear to the floor. Loki kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breastbone until he reached one of your breasts. He took one of your nipples in his skilful mouth and played with it with his lips, tongue and teeth. You moaned and squirmed under his expertise as he drove you slowly to the point of no return. He gave the same treatment to your other nipple. Once he was satisfied with your completely lost state, Loki looked up at you while kissing your stomach, your navel, and each of your hipbones, all the time with a little smirk on his lips. He placed himself in between your legs, supporting his weight on his elbows. Loki smirked once more before he started to lazily lick your core. You couldn’t help but lift your hips, wanting more of his contact. Usually, he would punish you for your impatience, but this time, Loki gave you what you wanted. He moved so he would be more comfortable, grabbed your asscheeks with both his big hands and started to rub your clit with his tongue. You moaned higher as your fingers grabbed a bunch of his soft hair, keeping his head where it was. After a short while, Loki’s tongue moved to your entrance where he teased you and moved one of his hands from your butt to your clit. He rubbed it with his thumb while he penetrated you with his tongue. You moaned and begged for him to go faster and he complied. That was your first orgasm of the night.

Once you were heaving and living in that post-orgasm world, Loki crawled your body until he reached your face again. He kissed you urgently and passionately and even in your weak state you could feel your savour in his tongue. He hugged you tightly as he kissed you with all his might, and you hugged him just as tight. You could feel there was something wrong with him, something that was making him more…clingy, if possible. But at the same time, you were too lost in pleasure island to fully pay attention to it.

“Loki…” You tried to call him to ask him what was wrong, but he didn’t even let you breathe before stating:

“I need you now, my beautiful. Would you let me have you?”

How could you ever refuse such a plea? It wasn’t in your base of knowledge. You nodded as you brought him closer to you. Loki kissed you once more, full of ardent passion before he entered you with his long and big length. You tilted your head back, just like your eyes went blank, and let out a big moan of his name. Loki kept kissing your neck and throat as he started to move out and inside of you, hitting your g-spot with his cockhead in every single movement.

“God, Loki…” You moaned as he kept his movements quick and savage as if he was desperate because of being inside of you.

“Yes, my beautiful. I am your god,” Loki growled in your ear.

He grabbed your hips with force as he continued to thrust inside you with his full force. Even though you had an orgasm recently, you could feel your insides tensing up for another one. That was always the case with Loki and you would never complain.

“Give it to me, my love. I need it,” He growled again.

His words were your doom and you found yourself screaming Loki’s name in pleasure as you found your sweet release. Loki kept thrusting inside you a few moments more, making you feel every part of your bodies that were joined before he followed you into the sweet oblivion of the orgasm. Both of you fell asleep after that, cuddling in all the possible ways.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You were still naked and your body still ached in some parts for the passionate lovemaking session you had just a few hours ago. Although, something was missing. Loki wasn’t there next to you. You tried to look for him, even when you were exhausted and half-asleep. You saw him completely dressed up in his armour, standing in the door.

“Loki…?” You asked confused. You tried to stand up, but you were too exhausted.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, my beautiful. I shall not be here when you wake up, but trust me I wish with every single pore of my being that I would,” Loki’s smile was sad. You wanted to go to him, to ask him what was happening, but you were too exhausted. It was as if you had been enchanted. “I have to do something, my beautiful. I must do it alone. For you. For all of us.” Loki gulped his saliva loudly, trying hard not to cry. “I shall find my way back to you.”

And then he left.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki friggason #god of mischief #mcu #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim #loki god of stories #loki smut #loki x reader fluff #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki angst

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jackietorrance · 1 year

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Smart Girl

During your childhood to adolescence, you spent hours and hours studying, whether it was school content, or content for some competitions you participated in. While your friends were enjoying your summer vacation doing what, you had your face stuck in some book about algebra or physics.

Your "pastime" was not something you did for the sake of obligation or pressure, or because you could not socialize with people, your passion for this type of entertainment arose from the freedom you had to express yourself. That was the first thing you found comfort.

And well... the second thing happened a few years ahead.

During your time at university, you met Jenna, a girl who sat with you in a class that you two coincidentally shared. Your first conversation began with a complaint coming from Jenna, talking about the absurd amount of duties that the mentors went through, you responded with a simple laugh and a comparison of the amount of your classes with those of Jenna, which were visibly superior, and then you mentioned a scene from some classic movie that Jenna quickly asked if you really liked that genre of movie.

It was this moment that began her approach with Jenna, exchange of phone numbers, an invitation for you two go to the movies, and after a few weeks, she served as a glove on you and you as a ring on her.

During any frustration you were there for each other, whether some mental conflict that was going through, Jenna would think of you to comfort her, whether you had won first place in some competition, the first person you would rush to hug and thank would be Jenna, during any moment of joy you and Jenna would be openly willing to share with each other. Until then, she had already been the best point of comfort and affection you could receive.

But that could get better. Of course you had.

Over time, Jenna began to feel a greater need to be close to you, to touch her, a despair for your presence, how restless she was when you praised her, again and again, oh girl, you really managed to mess with her.

With you it was not so different, you didn't know when you started to have feelings for her, in the end you were very busy trying to find a way to talk to Jenna about it, but when you saw her again, these thoughts disappeared, in an almost imperceptible way, the feeling that you could make your friend feel uncomfortable was one of your great fears. In your relationship with her, Jenna was always the one who spoke the most, you didn't mind letting her stay with you while studying, you understood Jenna's voice as a melody that would be of great company for your cold afternoon.

In a moment, you kept the books at a table, and Jenna stayed in your bed talking about something you couldn't understand the subject, you were very busy distracting yourself from your studies to watching her attentively, every detail of your face, part by part. This was the first time you wouldn't commit a murder If someone interrupted your studies

The big leap of her relationship came from Jenna, who at first seemed a little insecure, but when you held her hand and caressed her palm, she managed to calm down, your warmth being shared to her, how "the ancient peoples felt protected in the Paleolithic" you would say, and so she managed to open up, tell you how much she loved you, How much she wanted her words and humor to be the only kind of fun for her, how much she wanted you to be part of her life, each day closer. “And who knew that two people as different as us would be able to fit into the most perfect form of love?”

Now you were at home living in a very frequent scenario since years ago, you sitting in an armchair with Jenna resting on your lap, a caressing session you would say.

“Uh Jen-“ you were studying a short time ago, but let's say Jenna's arrival changed the plans a little. At this moment your girlfriend was kissing your neck. Not that you weren't liking it, but you knew where it was going to go.

You pulled Jenna's chin and left a calm kiss on her lips, "Sweet, I need to finish this essay today".

Jenna rolled her eyes, if they could they would go inside her head., “Ugh, right. Call me when you're done." Jenna said pensive, she got up and walked slowly to the door.

In your defense, you couldn't feel free with Jenna angry, and in the end you didn't mind receiving some sermons from your superior later.

“15 minutes to be able to make you kneel for me." You got up and looked seriously at Jenna, a presumptuous smile covered her face, and Jenna knew she had with her what she craved so much

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Hey, in this story the reader's genre is not so explicit, so you can read it like a gn! Reader.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 11 months

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Delicate, Chapter Three: Cinnamon Girl

here we go again! same disclaimers as last time. important talks and a long awaited reunion <3

< prev chapter next chapter >

Narcissa was conflicted, her smile tight as she took in the news.

She and Mary had been invited to a party by Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, who was extremely close to Alice Fortescue.

Alice Fortescue, that who surely going to be present at aforementioned party.

Did Alice know she had been invited? How did she feel about it? Was she the reason Lily had asked for Narcissa, specifically, as Mary’s plus one?

And then, how would Alice react when they saw each other again? How was she? Did she think about her, from time to time?

“You don’t look as excited as I expected. What’s wrong?” Mary interrupted Narcissa’s spiralling, bringing her back to reality. A party at the Potter’s meant a lot of celebrities and therefore the possibility to make oneself known: it was a chance too good for Mary to miss. However, Narcissa was bound to behave in some stupid, pathetic way and she needed Mary to stop her in case she started demolishing her public image by, let’s say, bursting out crying in front of her late teenage love.

“Sit down, I’m going to tell you a story. But you’ll have to promise me you won’t ask any questions until I’m finished, okay?” Narcissa said as she took Bunny from her tank and let her slither around her arm, because for some obscure, probably-rooted-in-her-troubled-childhood reason, it brought her some comfort.

Narcissa sat on the carpet, Mary mirroring her and not speaking a word. She looked worried, and that made something melt in Narcissa’s chest: she hadn’t felt like this since Andy (and Bella, in a way) left, when she was still a little innocent girl sharing little innocent secrets with her sisters. It happened a lot with Mary, an overcoming feeling of nostalgia that was only accentuated by the way the girl seemed to have adapted to Narcissa’s house, by learning in which drawer she kept the spoons, which switch turned on each light, which doors tended to fly open with a smack if you opened them too quickly.

God, she was getting soft.

“You know I went to a conservatory, Hogwarts, right?” Narcissa began.

Mary just nodded, without interrupting her.

“I attended that boarding school for five years, so basically my whole adolescence. I was already professionally trained when I started, obviously, and private teachers were much stricter than the ones at school, so I have always been ahead of my classmates and I found myself with a lot of free time and freedom, especially compared to my life back home. I was never quite able to shake off the feeling my parents were watching me, though, so I never had the courage to really break their rules. That was until a new girl showed up, at the beginning of my third year.” She couldn’t help the smile that naturally bloomed on her lips, her gaze fixed on Bunny.

“Her hair was a mess of curls, her smile a bit crooked, her tie always out of place. Subconsciously, I knew she was the exact opposite of what my parents approved of, so I immediately despised her. However, fate decided it would have been funny to tie our lives together, and since my roommate had coincidentally graduated, the two of us ended up sharing a room. And I’m forever glad it happened, Mary. This is the part where things start to get really personal, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.” Mary replied, raising her palms in surrender. She had gotten a little closer, moved by curiosity.

“They better be. Anyway, this girl took guitar lessons and I had piano, but we still shared singing classes together. Oh, Mary…I will never forget the first time I’ve heard her singing. I remember thinking, and it is a big compliment considering where I grew up, that I was lucky for witnessing the beginning of something so great. You see, I have been raised to become a singer, to use my voice as a means to get richer and greater, but I still felt like an amateur standing next to her. Not because her technique was better than mine, the teachers always praised me more,” Narcissa added, aware she sounded ostentatious, “but she had this energy, this unique style that wasn’t…fabricated, like mine. I stood next to her, and I realised the way I sung might have been flawless and pleasing to the ear, but it could never be anything more. It was never going to feel real.”

Narcissa paused, trying to find the right words to continue this conversation.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Mary tried to come to her rescue, but Narcissa shook her head.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…hard to voice these thoughts for the first time. I’ve never told this to anyone,” Narcissa replied, a bit bashful. “At the time of the story, my relationship with my sisters was already a mess, and we didn’t talk much. But you already know that, the media made sure of it.” She added, bitterly.

She had grown used to it, seeing as she had been under flashing cameras since the day she was born. Mary pressed her lips together, looking regretful, like she could’ve just ignored the news spread by paparazzi.

“Because I was a child, the moment I was confronted with this random girl that I considered so much better than me, I got incredibly jealous. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But she was always friendly, laughing at my snarky comments like they were inside jokes, and even when I pulled pranks on her she retaliated like it was a game between the two of us. I like to remember those days as the the chance I had at a normal adolescence.”

“What did you do?”

“I know you’re the one who put that red sock in my white laundry, Black. Since you like pink so much, I’ve mixed some hair dye with your shampoo. Now we match!”

“You-“

“I was mean, at times, but she always reacted in a way that inevitably made me feel like shit. For instance, her parents owned an ice cream parlor, and when I made a snobbish joke about that, she showed up the next day with a giant bowl of every ice cream flavor imaginable. We ate it all in one afternoon.”

“What were you saying about my parents selling ice cream?”

Narcissa took another spoonful and closed her eyes in delight.

“That it is truly one of the most noble and respectable occupations. Wait, what flavour is that?”

“Mmh…Blue?”

“I fell for her smile, her clumsiness, the songs she wrote. She was a poet. Still is. I wanted to be more like her, so we started spending more time together, skipping the classes we didn’t like, hiding in the yard behind the dorms. She smoked and played her guitar, while I simply watched her. I even started writing songs, which wasn’t expected of me by my parents: all my future albums had already been written, hidden in my future manager’s drawer.”

Narcissa noticed that Mary was itching to ask something, probably what happened after that, but she was stopping herself.

It was a cute effort, cute enough to be rewarded.

“We fell in love. We kept it a secret at school, but I knew she expected to make it official once we were out of there. As you know, however, I had other plans for my future,” then Narcissa added, rolling her eyes, “Well, my parents had other plans. Anyway, we had this huge row, we were both mad at each other, and I said some things that deeply hurt her and that I wish I had never spoken. There, end of the tale.”

Mary was gaping at her, disappointment evident on her face.

“Time for the questions,” Narcissa allowed.

“That can’t be the end! What happened then?” Mary protested quickly.

Narcissa smiled so, so sadly.

“She made a song inspired by the last words I’ve said to her, became worldwide famous because of it, and I’ve had to listen to my worst mistake playing on the radio for ten years. And apparently, we are going to one of her best friends’ party this weekend.”

Mary looked comically horrified. “Oh my God, Narcissa… I had no idea, I’ll just tell Evans we can’t go-“

“No, don’t,“ interrupted Narcissa, “It’s fine, really. Maybe I’m delusional, but…” she sighed, “I just want to see her again. The worst part is that we never got any closure: I just ran away, and she didn’t chase after me. Not like I was expecting her to, obviously.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. During the first years after their ‘breakup’, Narcissa had wanted nothing to do with Alice, because she had showed her the promise of what could’ve been their future in another life, and it was too good and too far from her family’s expectations.

In the end, though, all that was left was an aching longing that she had put into words with songs that would’ve never seen the light of day. Or so she had thought, before she left her home on a delirious rampage.

Narcissa had hoped for a call, a text, anything really. And yet, the only way she could hear from Alice was on the radio, or through her headphones. She finally had the chance to speak to her, and she wanted to take it oh, so desperately.

“Lily told me your cousins will be there, too.” Mary interrupted the heavy silence, and Narcissa was grateful for the change of topic. Mary had crossed the carpet that divided them, close enough to hug Narcissa if she wanted to.

She decided to let her head fall to the other girl’s shoulder instead- Narcissa had never been too keen on physical contact, and yet this small display of affection was enough to comfort her. It was enough to make her realize she hadn’t been comforted in years. Fuck.

“I figured. I want to talk to them, it’s been so long. I’m so proud of them. Regulus, especially,” Narcissa let her hand travel on the carpet, while Mary listened in silence.

“He left when he was only 18. And he didn’t even go to his brother first, he preferred staying with this girl no one ever heard of.” Narcissa remembered with a smile.

She didn’t know the details of what happened between the two brothers after Regulus’ undertaking, but Sirius had always been very protective of him, even when things were complicated, so she could only imagine how enraged he must’ve been when he discovered he was bested by a woman he had never even seen.

“I think she’s called Pandora Lovegood,” Mary informed her. “She was rumored to be Regulus’ girlfriend, and people on the Internet started to make these crazy theories about the real reasons behind his escape, saying he did it for his ‘forbidden love’. They never confirmed anything, though, and he keeps bringing her as a guest during social events or parties…maybe you can ask him about it this Saturday.”

Narcissa was glad Mary couldn’t see her face, because she was really close to cackling: Regulus, the 12 year-old boy who had a full breakdown in her room because he didn’t want to kiss a girl on the cheek for a movie, with a girlfriend. Simply hilarious.

“I guess I could, yes,” she agreed, her sarcasm going unnoticed.

Her head was still on Mary’s shoulder, the silence between them stretching long but comfortable.

“Mary,” Narcissa called.

“Cissa,” Mary answered.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Narcissa didn’t really know why she asked, or where she wanted the conversation to go. Mary was extremely reserved about family matters, so-

“Yes, I do. I have two brothers, both younger. One is in middle school, the other a few years younger.” Mary’s tone was fond, and even if she was out of Narcissa’s sight, it wasn’t too hard to imagine a small smile on her lips.

“You never talk about them. You’re always working, either at the café or here…don’t they miss you when you’re not home?” Narcissa questioned, feeling bold.

“Oh, well, it’s not like I see them when I get home, since I’ve been living in a hotel for a while now,” Mary explained, sounding embarrassed.

Narcissa was not expecting that.

“You what? Since when?” she asked, startled, moving away from Mary to look at her in the eyes.

“I’ve wanted to leave that house for a while, so I saved some money with my part-time job,” Mary said, ”I moved about a month after signing the contract, when I was sure I could make it by myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Narcissa replied, distraught, putting a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I have asked you to come live with me!”

“No you haven’t?” Mary countered, confused and slightly alarmed by Narcissa’s fervor.

“You want me to come live with you?”

“We spend most of our time together already, I thought it was obvious?” Narcissa answered frantically.

Mary just laughed, uncontrolled and loud. Narcissa pouted.

“Fine, fine! I’ll come live with you, if you’re so desperate to have me around,” she smiled. “I’ll bring my stuff tomorrow, if I can manage. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, whatever.” Narcissa replied, still looking like a crossed child. They sat next to each other on the floor, letting the silence settle for a while. Mary was good at reading people, Narcissa had learnt. She always seemed to know when someone needed some quiet, or preferred to ramble, and adapted accordingly. Everchanging, constantly camouflaging to survive.

“Why did you ask?” Mary asked.

Narcissa sighed, because one, she was expecting that question, and two, she didn’t know, either.

“Sometimes I hate them. Sirius and Regulus, I mean,” Narcissa explained. “Sure, they fight, seem to hate each other, and their relationship isn’t perfect, but at least it’s there. For my sisters, we’re dead to each other.”

“Have you tried calling them?” Mary suggested, and it should’ve been a silly thing to ask, because of course Narcissa should have tried to call them, it was the most logical thing to do. But she hadn’t. Andromeda left when Narcissa was still controlled by their parents and didn’t try to contact her, not even after her escape. Bellatrix was still proudly part of the family, so Narcissa hadn’t even bothered trying.

“No,” Narcissa replied, defeated. “It’s useless, they went on with their lives. I keep up with the articles about Bellatrix, so I kind of know what’s going on, but Andromeda has completely disappeared. I wonder how she did that.”

And why she didn’t bring me with her.

“…Do you resent her?” Mary whispered, quietly. Narcissa turned to look at her.

“For leaving?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if I did resent her now it would be hypocritical, since I also ran away. But I used to, yes. Why? Are you worried your siblings might grow to hate you?“

Mary leant back, eyes travelling to the ceiling. Narcissa thought she looked so serious at times, with her gaze lost in thought and her lips clamped shut. Preoccupation made her look older.

“I’m not worried. When the time came, I told my parents it was time for me to enter the real world, that I had found an apartment out of town I could afford and that I was going to call them weekly,” Mary smiled bitterly, her eyes bright with tears Narcissa wasn’t going to address. “They didn’t bat an eye. One less mouth to feed, I guess. My youngest sibling, Theo, told me with tears in his eyes that he was going to miss me, while the oldest, Bingley, felt betrayed. He didn’t say it, but I could see it in his face.” Mary sighed, looking at Narcissa’s neck, where Bunny had slowly found her designated place.

“I know they will understand, if not now when they’re older, then. And if they do not understand, I’ll explain why I left myself.”

“…Why did you do it, though?” Narcissa asked, cautious.

“I did it because I deserve to be happy. Back there I wasn’t in pain, but I was miserable. And I couldn’t pretend like it didn’t affect me, so I packed my stuff and left for a place that allowed me to grow. And here I am,” Mary smiled at her, nudging her arm, making Bunny hiss in agreement.

Narcissa was having severe flashbacks of a conversation she never had, a scene in a parallel universe where her family was slightly less dysfunctional and talking felt a lot more natural. She refused to tear up.

“Why didn’t you ask your brothers to come with you?” She asked, or rather, sobbed. Fuck.

“Because it was risky,” Mary answered, seeming to understand that this conversation had more layers than just simple curiosity. “Although it wasn’t the best, my house offered stability, and I can’t support two more people on my own. When the time comes, they’ll be free to leave and come to me, but I’m not a mother, Cissa, and I don’t have to play the role for them.”

Shit, she was about to cry. Shit, shit, shit.

Did Andy feel like that? Did she also consider taking her sisters with her, when she had left that night?

When Narcissa ran away, three different types of illegal substances numbed most of her feelings, so she couldn’t really draw a comparison between their experiences.

“They won’t understand, Mary. You can’t expect them to.” She replied, managing to make her voice sound a lot firmer than it actually was.

“And that’s fine. I’ll explain when the time comes,” Mary replied, sounding so sure, so calm, so mature for a twenty two year-old.

Then she added, smirking, “Maybe I’ll start by calling them.”

Narcissa shoved her.

Lily had informed Alice that she and Mary would soon start working together, but since MacDonald was already quite busy with the release of her debut album, they weren’t going to start writing together for a few more weeks.

Alice was grateful for the delay: Lily was determined to work with Mary, and the girl seemed really close to Narcissa Black.

So, simply put, Alice’s (already trembling) emotional stability was really close to falling apart.

No one knew of their relationship back when they were at Hogwarts, and no one knew that relationship was actually something more than friendship. A something that apparently still meant everything to Alice, and nothing to Narcissa, since after ten years, the first was still unable to move on, and the second had completely erased the other from her life.

But Alice remembered. Oh, she remembered so well.

All her songs revolved around Narcissa in one way or the other: the memory of her, the feelings Alice had for her. Everything, for everyone to hear. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that a small part of her, the weakest, hoped Narcissa heard them, too.

Alice’s creative process wasn’t a journey through emotions or stories she wanted to explore or create, it was an eternal war that always took place on the same battlefield.

The school, the dorm, her lips.

The whispers, the fights, her kisses.

Was it possible for a poet to worship, despise, cherish and reject their own muse all at the same time?

Oh, how a juvenile mistake can change someone’s life. Because that’s was what it was to Alice, a mistake. It should’ve never happened, even if it felt too good to be true, even if it’s what led her to fame.

Even if it felt like love.

Luckily, the possibility of meeting Narcissa were low, even considering Lily’s new project. She was going to work with Mary, not Narcissa, so she was still safe, for now.

Speaking of this Mary, Alice was was looking forward to meeting her: Lily had been talking about her for days, about how fun she was, how talented she was, how she seemed to completely ignore all the rumours about her. So when Lily told her Mary was going to be present on Saturday, Alice was extremely excited.

The party at the Potter’s had already started, and even though the ‘small gathering’ already counted more than seventy people, Peter was still nowhere to be seen: James, Sirius and Marlene had gone to pick him up, so they were going to come back soon. Even Regulus, who was bringing Pandora, still hadn’t shown up, but Dorcas Meadowes was already deep in a conversation with Euphemia Potter and Mrs Zabini, probably discussing Zabini’s next spring collection. Lily was somewhere with Frank and Benji, probably ignoring the champagne glasses in the living room in favour of the vodka shots available in the kitchen.

Since Alice refused to get drunk so soon, she was left chatting with people she didn’t know too well about things she didn’t really care about, but honestly, she was enjoying it. She was just talking to Molly Weasley (neé Prewett) about the challenges and difficulties of growing pumpkins (Molly worked with her brothers in the film industry so what would she know about growing pumpkins, Alice had no clue) when the doorbell rang. She heard Lily stumbling in her heels from the kitchen calling “It’s her! It’s her!”, but since Alice was closer, she went to get it.

She opened the door, and Narcissa Black was on the other side.

And she was beautiful. She looked more mature now, healthier, but her attitude was as confident as ever.

Posture impeccable just like that day they met, when Alice had walked into her future dorm room and had found this blonde girl made of steel and ice staring down at her like she was a stray dog.

Her eyes were bright like every time Alice pulled out a cigarette in front of her, wordlessly convincing her to skip classes and lay on the grass together.

Narcissa looked like beauty and regret.

As time stretched indefinitely, Lily caught up to Alice and leant on the door frame, looking at the girl standing next to Narcissa. Because Mary was there, too.

“Mary, hi! You look gorgeous!” Lily greeted the girl, who thanked her and smiled brightly.

Alice tried to say something to Mary, but she couldn’t get her eyes off Narcissa. Of course she couldn’t, she never managed to.

Then Narcissa did something mad, horrid, monstrous.

She offered Alice her hand and spoke.

“Alice. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Lily was now looking at Alice with faux surprise.

“You know each other?” she asked, innocently. Alice glared at her, because she knew Lily knew, and she knew Lily did it on purpose. Alice also instantly knew Marlene was part of this, too.

People these days, can’t even let you handle your problems unhealthily.

Then Narcissa spoke again, and of course Alice gave her her full attention, because she still reacted to her voice like a dog to whistle. Ten years later, still as pathetic as before.

“…You haven’t told them?”

Oh, she was offended. Now that made Alice’s blood boil.

“Ironic, that.” Narcissa added bitterly, letting her hand fall, untouched.

Alice felt her gaze harden, but kept her mouth shut. Instead, she did what she had learnt to do well in the past years when confronted with Narcissa Black: Alice turned on her heels, and walked away. She vaguely heard Lily taking her two guests to the living room to introduce them to Effie, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Turns out, it was just the right time to get drunk.

#it’s finally here #hope you like it #next chapters are party chapters but i still have to writ them #so that’ll take some time #anyways #marylily #nobleflower #alicissa #mary x lily #alice x narcissa #lily x mary #narcissa x alice #marauders #marauders era girls #marylily fic #nobleflower fic #there was no tag for them #outrageous #fic: delicate

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p-cruz · 5 months

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昔見つけた細切れな画像たちを日本語の対話の流れとして違和感のないように並べるとこれが正しいのではないかと思える状態にしてみました一箇所語尾が写っていない部分の補足としてはジャンの台詞なので単に「なった」よりも「なったんだ」「なったんだよ」などのほうが適当かもしれませんしさらになにかつけたした言葉もあったのかまではまったく予測できませんけれども… 訓練兵時代の思い出話などはまさにjeanmarco ficにそのままなありそうな光景なのが本当におもしろいです I tried to arrange the shredded images I found in the past so that they fit together as a flow of Japanese dialogue, and put them in a state that I thought was correct. As an addition to the part where the end of a word is not shown in the image, since this is Jean's dialog, it might be more appropriate to say "なったんだ" or "なったんだよ" rather than simply "なった". Also, I have no idea if there are any additional words that he might have added to this dialog or not… It was really interesting to hear his memories of his time as a trainee, which is exactly the kind of scene you would expect to see in a jeanmarco fic.

───

CLOSEUP INTERVIEW ジャン・キルシュタイン Jean Kirstein 前編 Part One

[2014/6/10 Updated]

若さが振りまく棘と、年齢以上に大人びた表情の共存する、等身大の若者。ジャン・キルシュタインは、誰にでもある思春期の面影を残しながら、兵士としての揺るぎなさも感じさせる少年だった。インタビューをはじめると告げると、彼は形式通りの敬礼をし、それから照れたようにそっぽを向いた─ A life-size young man with the thorniness that comes with youth, yet with an appearance more mature than his years. Jean Kirstein was a boy who retained the adolescent facade that we all have, but who was also a soldier and unwavering. When I told him I was going to start the interview, he gave me a formal salute and then turned away as if embarrassed.

CLOSEUP INTERVIEW ジャン誰に言われたわけでもねぇ。自分で決めて、調査兵になったんだ "No one told me to do it. I decided on my own, I joined the Survey Corps." ─ Jean

─今日はよろしくお願いします。 ─さて、手元の資料には、ジャンさんが調査兵になることを決意する際、同期のマルコ・ボットさんの戦死がきっかけになった、とあります。彼について、詳しく伺っても? Q: Thank you for your time today. In the data, it says that the death in battle of Marco Bott, a classmate of yours, was a factor in your decision to join the Survey Corps. Can I ask you more about him?

ジャン「……ああ。訊かれると思ってたよ」ジャン「マルコは……いいヤツだった。いいヤツすぎるくらいにな。いつも物事を俯瞰して見られるくせに、情には篤くて、仲間を思いやってる……そんなヤツだった」 Jean: …Oh. I knew you would ask. Marco was… a nice guy. He was too good to be true. He always kept things in perspective, but was also a caring and compassionate guy who cared about his friends.

─お二人の関係はどのようなものだったのですか? Q: What was your relationship like?

ジャン「何だかんだで、つるんでることが多かったよ。成績が近いから、訓練で一緒になることもよくあったし……」 Jean: We used to hang out a lot, for what it's worth. Our grades were close, so we were often together in training…

─話は合いましたか。 Q: Did you have a good conversation?

ジャン「イヤ、どうだろうな。オレはあいつの優等生なところをからかってばっかりで……それでもマルコのヤツ、笑ってたな。本当……あのころのオレみたいに、自分のことしか考えてないヤツに、何でつきあってたんだろうな……」 Jean: I don't know. I always teased him about his honor student ways… but Marco just laughed. I wonder… why he went out with a guy like me who only thought about himself…

─ケンカなどはされなかった。 Q: Have you had any fights?

ジャン「そもそも、あいつが怒るって事が、めったになかったからな……でも」 Jean: It was rare for him to get angry in the first place. But…

─何かエピソードがありますか。 Q: Do you have any episodes?

ジャン「訓練でいい点を取ろうとして、ついケガなんかすると、機嫌が悪くなってた。マルコは誰に対しても、そうだったけどよ」 Jean: He would get in a bad mood if I got hurt trying to get a good score in training. However, he was like that with everyone.

─逆に、励まされたことなどは。 Q: On the contrary, have you ever been encouraged?

ジャン「よく……あった。訓練兵のころのオレは、自分が優秀だってことに絶対の自信があったからな。今考えればガキだけどよ……ちょっと失敗したりすると、すぐしょぼくれてたんだよ。そういうとき傍に居てくれんのは、マルコだった」 Jean: It… happened often. When I was a trainee, I had absolute confidence in my own excellence, but now I think I was just a kid. …But when I made the slightest mistake, I was always depressed. It was Marco who was there for me at those times.

─何か言葉をかけられたり? Q: Did you have him say anything to you?

ジャン「それが、黙って近くに居るだけなんだ。で、オレがくだらねぇ愚痴を言っても、そうだね、とか、真正面から受け止めて……」 Jean: But he just stayed close without saying a word. And when I would grumble about something silly, he would take it seriously and say something like, 'Right'…

─理解者だったわけですね。 Q: So he was your understanding.

ジャン「そうだな。卒業間近のころには『ジャンは強い人ではないから』なんて、言われるようにもなっちまってたからな。色んなこと……一緒に経験してたんだな」 Jean: That's right. I think the reason he said things like 'you're not a strong person' so close to graduation was because we had been through so much… together.

─しかし、兵団の志望はマルコさんも憲兵だったわけですよね?　彼の死が調査兵になる動機となったいきさつは? Q: But you and Marco both wanted to join the Military Police, didn't you? How did his death motivate you to become a member of the Survey Corps?

ジャン「マルコは……オレが『今、何をするべきか』わかる人間だ、と言ったんだ。オレは最初、聞き流してたが……トロスト区のことが終わって、その意味がわかった。その時すべきことが見えた。まるで、死んだマルコに未来を託されたみたいな気分に［なった（?）］ Jean: He said… I was a person who knew what need to be done. At first I didn't take him seriously, …but after what happened in Trost, I understood what he meant. I could see what I needed to do at that time. At the same time, I felt as if Marco, who had passed away, had entrusted me with the future.

─「今、何をするべきか」の出所は、マルコさんというわけですね。 Q: So the word 'what should I do now' is because of what he said, I see.

ジャン「それに、やり場のない後悔と責任も感じたよ。別の班だったとはいえ……マルコは、オレが一緒にいたら、死なずに済んだんじゃないかってな」 Jean: I also felt a sense of regret and responsibility. Even though we were in different squads, …I wondered if I had been with him, he wouldn’t have died.

─仕方のないことですが、そう考えるのも無理はありませんね。 Q: There is nothing anyone can do about that incident now, but it was not hard to see why you would think so.

ジャン「襲撃の後、次は誰が死ぬ番かなんて……考えちまった。そのとき、そこにオレがいれば……そいつを救えるんじゃないかとも思ったんだ」 Jean: After the attack, I wondered who would be next to die. I thought that if I was there, I might be able to save them.

───

翻訳アプリに助けてもらって対訳もなんとかつくってみましたわたしは英語は大体読めてもうまく書くことがあまりできないのでおかしな部分があってもお許しください With the help of a translation app, I managed to add a translation as well. I can read most of English, but I can't write very well, so please forgive me if there are some oddities in my writing.

#jeanmarco #attack on titan #manga

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atla-recluse · 1 year

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Some Not-So-Gentle Reminders and Points for the Gravity Falls Fandom (And for Fandoms in General) to Consider, Especially the Dishonest and Clueless “Apologists”

Note: So here’s my official first Gravity Falls post. I’m not exactly a new fan, though I am having a second wind of interest and appreciation for it and everything in it. For this particular post, I guess I just really felt like getting some thoughts off my chest and just kept going after that. Sorry for lack of pics/direct evidence. This was supposed to be quick and most of this stuff should be pretty obvious if you just pay attention and take the bias goggles off. I might come back and add images/media later. I’ll gladly correct any mistakes too, big or small, if need be.

Now consider this:

- Stan, in the scene where he allegedly “broke” Ford’s science fair project, didn’t even touch it! I repeat, Stan DID NOT touch Ford’s science fair project! What he touched, was the table it was set on when he slammed his fist down! Yet he was and still is blamed for it breaking by everyone in the fandom and show, even himself. How has this common claim so rarely been questioned by a fandom that prides itself on being skeptical and solving mysteries? Just use your eyes and rewatch the scene, people!

- The fact that Ford was so quick to accuse Stan—the one person in the whole world out of his entire life that had supported him through thick and thin and always protected him—of breaking his project based on minimal evidence at best, implies that Ford already had a low opinion of Stan by that point and probably much earlier. It implies that even if he did love Stan, he definitely didn��t believe in him. No one had ever believed in or supported Stan until Soos came into his life, followed by Wendy, Dipper and Mabel.

- No matter how you try and slice it, Ford had been outright shown time and time again, through both words and actions, to have not appreciated Stan’s love or devotion to him, or their closeness. At least not outwardly, to us viewers. His true feelings might not always show and we do get some glimpses here and there of his thoughts on Stan, but appearances matter a lot! Someone being open to doing things with another person, seemingly to keep up an air of decency and calm while they’re trapped in the same place together, doesn’t mean that person appreciates the other. It doesn’t even necessarily mean that you want a relationship with that person or to reconcile.

- Ford’s usage of the words “suffocating” and “meant for something greater” when talking to Dipper about familial relationships and specifically the boy’s connection with his sister Mabel, besides many other talked-to-death things, is very telling and shows how much he was terrified of the intimacy he had with Stan. There’s literally no nicer way to put it. He didn’t just want to escape the bullying he received or the crappy town he grew up in. He wanted to escape Stan. At some point in his adolescence, Ford seemed to have grown to view Stan as an obstacle to his success, a weight on his shoulders, a leech or spotlight hog of some sort, or just a painful reminder of awful experiences. This in itself is a very realistic reaction and when you look at the examples, the case for Ford truly being proud of what he had with Stan looks very shaky. Despite what I’ve noted here, I do think Ford did and does greatly love Stan deep down. But he also seemed to be afraid of something, which seems to have led to him wanting to run away from his feelings—and from Stan.

- Again, it’s possible to love someone dearly but still harm them or view them as harmful to you or for both of you to harm each other. If you really want to view Ford’s immediate discarding of what was supposedly both his and Stan’s dream, along with Stan himself, in a somewhat more positive (well, more selfless) light, you could argue that Ford thought he was holding Stan back (instead of solely vice versa). After all, if Stan did depend on Ford as much as we see him do in the series to the point where they were practically a (mis?) matched pair of socks, it could very well be that Ford felt like he was forcing Stan to be the ‘dumb but brawny and funny’ twin to his ‘smart but weak and weird’ self. Maybe he figured Stan shouldn’t have to keep defending him and making a fool of himself to make Ford happy and feel less alone in his ‘freakishness’ into adulthood. Perhaps he thought some separation was what they both needed to finally grow into two fully-fledged, separate beings.

- There’s an argument to be made that Ford is/was extremely narcissistic and insecure. You know what many narcissists (with or without NPD) have in common? They have low self-esteem. Low self-esteem often born from a childhood of emotional abuse and neglect and constantly being told there’s something wrong with you, that you’re not and will never be good enough. Low self-esteem and a need to hide it and look for ways to avoid rejection or coming rejection, even if it’s just perceived. It can be easy to forget that Stan and Ford were both treated terribly inside the home as well as outside it. Ford was on some level the golden child whereas Stan was the scapegoat. There are some narcissistic dynamics going on here. (They’re very prevalent in families, you know?) Childhoods like theirs are known for breeding such people. This means that Ford may have saw himself in a negative light but felt Stan’s love was exacerbating the problem because he was being led to believe that Stan was a problem; The problem child.

- Stan shows signs of extreme codependency to the point of having traits that practically mimic that of BPD/EDD/EUPD (including insecurity and low self-esteem as well). He’s clearly terrified of abandonment yet of closeness too, at the same time. This is likely also caused by his and Ford’s childhood. Many people with BPD come from homes like theirs, too. Now I understand these are cartoon characters, so the urge to diagnose, while understandable, is typically pointless. However, if we’re speaking theoretically on which disorders match up with characters the most based on what we see and find out about them, then yes, Stanley seems to be extremely codependent—especially toward Stanford—and likely suffers from other emotional trauma that was made far worse after he was kicked out.

Do we ever see it so much as implied that this concerns Stanford though? That he sympathizes with whatever current plight his brother is going through even once outside of the finale of all times, particularly before Stanley had seemingly already been erased out of existence? I don’t think we do. Well, maybe once. Stanford gave Dipper a pretty and high tech tie to give to Stanley... I guess he wanted to throw his poor, dumb dog of a brother a bone. (I kid, I kid. But not really.)

You can’t even claim that it was the same the other way around and say that Stan doesn’t pay mind to Ford’s struggles or want to help him out of them ever, because the show often goes out of its way to illustrate to us the opposite and often also makes it clear just how much Stan adores Ford. Spending their childhood protecting and sticking up for him. Dropping/giving up everything for Ford repeatedly. Being concerned over Ford’s sanity/behavior when he visited him that fateful day in 1982. Still holding out hope he’ll change his mind on their old dream despite the hell he’s been put through. Forgiving Ford for everything even after he almost ‘dies’ to clean up the problem that, mind you, FORD CAUSED TO BEGIN WITH. Ford “ruined” his own life! (And is implied or explicitly shown to have had a hand in bringing about the intense hardship of others’ lives. E.g. Stanley, Fiddleford....the evidence is there.)

- In fact, there can be no talks about “who was more responsible for Weirdmageddon” without acknowledging who was the first one to shake the devil’s hand: Ford! I mean, of course it’s mainly Bill’s fault, he’s the villain! The point is that it’s harder for others to do wrong when we refuse to help them. We know romantic relationship cheaters are jerks but what about those who knowingly help the cheaters cheat? They never get a pass, now do they? Then the same can especially be said for Stanford, who did not refuse to help Bill—even despite warnings about summoning him—until it was too late and the cat was miles away from the bag. At that point he had no one to blame but himself for the problem continuing to escalate. I mean, don’t you remember the many questionable ways he tried to contain it?!

- Stanley is not even close to being the dumb twin. Not in anyway. On top of all the skills he’s learned over the decades, he’s actually implied to be close to as smart or even equal to Stanford. His whole life is actually a testament to how amazing he truly is at surviving and, given the right tools, thriving. You know what some of you sound like when you have nothing but crap to say about this main’s relatively positive traits, irrespective of his actual wrong-doings? Stanford Pines, pre-realization of all the ways he has screwed things up for those around him. You know, who the man was only after he erased Stanley’s memory. Though a lot of you seem to self-insert and project onto Stanford to an unpleasant extent anyway, so I guess that’s not surprising. You know who else you end up sounding like? Filbrick Pines. Yeah, that one. I don’t know, seems a bit disturbing to be. You know who else you often end up sounding like? Bill Cipher, if I remember properly. In fact, wasn’t it implied that much of Stanford’s negative views of Stanley and not needing family, was influenced by Bill? Hmm.

- You can not blame Stanley for pushing Stanford into the portal while completely ignoring the context of the scene and all the actions that lead up to that point. Ford sent Stan a vague postcard (implying he may have known how to reach Stan all along). Ford allowed Stan inside and in the basement where things were bound to be the most dangerous. Ford told Stan to take the book and get as far away from him (“sail as far away as you can. To the edge of the Earth”) as possible despite knowing their were a lot of tender feelings there, especially when it came to the two of them sailing together. Ford started the fight when Stan tried to burn the book he was given, that Ford wanted to get rid of anyway! Ford pushed Stan while trying to get said book back onto a bunch of buttons which activated the portal to begin with! The accidental lever turn came after that and the Stan accidentally pushing him into the portal was just the nail in the coffin of their faux family reunion that Ford caused to happen.

No one made Ford choose an unsuspecting Stan as a tool and means to an end for the mess he put himself and possibly the whole world in. That was his choice. Either they’re both to blame or Ford is solely to blame. What you’re not going to do is put the entirety of the blame on Stan. Call me every name in the book for this, but I believe the BIGGEST innocent victim in that scenario was Stan! You don’t need to blame him for every single terrible thing that happened to Ford because Stan already blames himself for everything! Even when it doesn’t look like it could have been him responsible for it! He already is full of shame and remorse that fill every step he takes every single day. He worried every day for thirty years that the blood of one of the only people in his life that he’s loved, may have been on his own hands.

- I think it’s possible that one of the reasons Ford latched on to Bill despite all the red flags, was because Bill reminded him of Stanley. He wanted a friend. He wanted his best friend back. Bill played the role almost perfectly—until he didn’t anymore and Ford realized his mistake. This could mean that there’s a chance he realized the biggest difference between Stan and Bill since he did end up contacting the former after Bill’s betrayal, and in his own words, chose Stan because he trusted him. He still trusted Stan. It could have been less than when they were children though and all that time with someone that reminded him of Stan yet ended up betraying him ‘too’ may have caused him to start associating Stan with Bill. I can imagine that after he was sucked into the portal, Ford’s associating Stan with painful betrayal may have worsened. But bringing him out of the portal could have slightly improved it. And seeing as they finally sailed away by the end, he realized must have he was wrong to ever associate them, if he had before. I bet they’re probably still sailing around the world together over a decade later right now.

- If the thought of both twins not returning home and choosing to live with their grunkles and exploring gravity falls/world and sailing the sea together, bothers you, ask yourself how it would have been soooo much better if only Dipper had stayed while Mabel went back home? You see the issue with that now? I won’t argue whether or not it’s okay for a 12 - 13 year old boy to stay in a far off place with an adult family member. After all their parents didn’t mind sending them alone to Gravity Falls for the summer to live with their great uncle anyway, which was likely dangerous/irresponsible of them for many reasons. I just think it’s suspicious that some people can only see the issue if someone suggests that both twins should have left their parents and life in California behind to resolve the issue of the apprenticeship and keeping close to one’s sibling all at once.

- The Stan Twins told their story in ATOTS but only we, the audience, actually see it play out. The characters don’t. The way brothers explained it may have made it seem to each other like the other still had no sympathy for them and didn’t think that what they did was wrong. Stan even called Ford’s dream college “stupid” while the flashback was being shown and he was explaining his side of the story. The fact that neither apologizes for the painful things they helped contribute to in their young adulthood which affected them, probably didn’t help either.

- In one of the scenes from the ATOTS flashback, Ford yelled at Stan “Help me Stanley!” as he was slowly sucked into the portal. He wanted Stan to save him! These were Ford’s final words to him that Stan internalized and are what Stan immediately set out to do! He likely worked for decades with these last words in mind, not knowing whether Ford would still be alive when he brought him back to their world! Ford even threw the book that they’d fought over to Stan before he disappeared. How do you think that looked from Stan’s POV? Like a visual cry for help on top the audible one I bet! Also, Ford had some awful nightmares thanks to Bill. It was terrible what was done to him and pushed him to the point of insanity. However, he wasn’t the only one with fears, regrets and a troubled past. Imagine what Stan’s nightmares must have been like, especially the ones with Ford in them? The parts of Stan’s dreamscape that we got a view of were depressing. The dreary colors, the symbolism...

- Both sets of twins are extremely sensitive to and immediately take things to heart, especially insults/criticism and all of them can at times act less mature than their actual ages. They all feel inadequate in some way. They just showed these traits to different extents and unhealthily cope in different ways. Be careful with their feelings and what you say to them because all of them wear a front as a cover for protection. They also all occasionally lack common sense, act silly and say and do the oddest things at times. Plus they all need someone who genuinely loves them dearly to hold them down and would die for their family (or die of heartbreak if they didn’t get there in time).

- Stan and Ford after decades apart and so much animosity between them, are sailing on a ship. They could be together in the middle of nowhere very often. Knowing of all those negative feelings that were present, it leads me to think about all the ways their trip could have gone wrong. Many understand that their father was abusive, but what if they were or became abusive to each other? I don’t want to believe this would happen and I doubt we were supposed to consider such a thought. However, the terrible possibilities are still there. At worst, I prefer to think that things are at times bitter but then sweet.

- It’s very fascinating to me how so much “Stanford Defense” seems to be built upon throwing other characters under the bus to make him seem less culpable for his own choices. It boggles my mind how the same people who claim that characters such as Stan and Mabel are never questioned on anything (laughable to say this point, especially coming from them) seem to be the ones doing everything in their power to keep people from so much as voicing displeasure anymore at any part of Ford’s character. I swear I’m ever seeing the same names on different sites arguing with people about how wrongly ridiculed he is. It’s really is starting to look like all the “Stanford gets soooo much unnecessary HAAAAATE and is always bAsHeD” people are trying to take things in the opposite direction. Which is just as upsetting if not more so, because such behavior only leads to the shutting down of discussion and critique. That’s horrible for a fandom to go through, just like the other way around. Can’t Gravity Falls do better than that?

- Your faves won’t ever be every single person’s faves. Sometimes people will even dislike a character that you like. That’s fine! That’s life! Just don’t forget while loving said character, that this does not have to mean you approve of everything they say or do. You don’t need to jump to one’s defense whenever someone makes a point. Especially a valid one that can’t truly be disproven anyway. It makes you look delusional and like you’re in a parasocial relationship with that fictional character. Learn and never forget the difference between arguing an important point with societal implications and solely defending a character for the sake of it, please.

- Mental illness is not a joke or something to wear as a badge of honor. It’s also not something that, if noticed, should be swept under the rug. In the case of fictional characters, I think it’s quite admirable when people can see certain traits of themselves or their loved ones in characters past the stereotypical ones, but that also gives us a chance to talk about those traits and just how hard it can be to live with them and why sympathy and amnesty is so important to healing and moving forward. I believe Stan and Ford especially show signs of extreme mental illness in the show that I have a hunch were placed in them on purpose. This seems to be one of those cases where we’re supposed to see our own family dynamics in them.

- It’s asinine to claim to love a character but ignore or even outright deny their faults and flaws, even when they admit to it! If you love someone, love all of that person, even if you’re often at odds with them. When someone says they love Stanford for literally deny things about him that are proven to be true, I’m left wondering if that person actually loves him—or just the idea of him. Same with any other character this happens with. Enough with the need for our favorite characters to be pure, perfect versions of ourselves. Enough with the need to wipe away issues and to go as far as making up traits for the character, or even stealing their traits from another to make him or her look better and the other character look worse. You’re in effect masking what depth is actually present and risking putting a bad taste in the mouth of those that are neutral on them; souring them to the character and even fandom.

- Even the characters with potential who were unfortunately underutilized—such as Caryn Pines, the mother of the Stan Twins—still tended to fill their main roles in the story pretty well, even despite time restraints. Some of these and other side characters even managed to gain their own small group of fans and fan-creators on their behalf, within the larger fandom. That is pretty wild and deserves some praise. Nice one writers!

- Sometimes it really does help to just remove yourself from the story and just be meta with your takes, i.e. to distance yourself when discussing something because it helps make you less biased and more evidence-based. There are times where we really do see something in a character that indeed was not there or meant to be there. Death of the author can only allow for so much leeway in interpretations. Authorial intent will always matter. This show was very detailed and there are so many things you only noticed after looking again. Some theories exist that imply the whole story for the Pines Family would have mattered no matter what in-universe. We need to be careful when arguing things, we may be/end up wasting our time even more than we think. Oh and ...cartoon logic haha. Also no one loves or will ever love the Pines Family like the Pines Family can. Nor like the creators/writers themselves do. We also can not understand them the way the ones who made them can. When in doubt, it tends to be best to just trust them and their intentions, and your gut as a last resort.

- The Gravity Falls ending was meant to be a happy, fairytale-like ending. That’s how it’s been implied to be the case by the creator (probably not with the company known for fairytales, Disney, even asking him to) and is the reason why every character was so quick to forgive and forget, and why everyone but the ‘super bad guys’ got their ideal ending. Sometimes it’s really not about what would have been the most interesting or profound (or logical) to viewers when making directive choices but about what would make us feel most at peace.

Note: This was all written with mostly one perspective in mind. There are however, many others ones and I do think lots of them are valid takes too, some of them I may even agree with as well and may have hinted at. Also, although it can be hard to tell with so many questionable decisions made, things not done that should have been and even some writing errors here and there, I do think all four of the Pines Family members and those adopted into the family, truly love each other and express it in different ways. That’s what this whole show is really all about and how it ended: With Love for Family prevailing.

#Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls Meta #character criticism #character analysis #mental health #I needed to say all this.#I swear #It was driving me crazy.#Tiresome #None of it can ever be said enough by the looks of it.#Fandumb

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coarsely · 2 days

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Find the word tag

Many thanks to @borisyvain for tagging me! My words were never, dog, burn and either!

For never, we visit Imperator V, who misses his Catholicism Assigned Chastity Belt™ dearly.

It has only been two weeks since he left the Temple of Eden and with it his Imperator’s mask, Imperator’s regalia, Imperator’s weaponry. They’d even taken off the mouthguard that kept him from eating anything unsanctioned, the belt that made it awkward to use the bathroom but kept him from committing any sins of the flesh, were he to be so tempted. It’s the longest time he’s ever spent out of it, and the absence is still felt keenly along his groin and hips, where it ought to be, a phantom of what he is, what awaits him when he returns to his city. He looks forward to the return. He feels too exposed, in this half-mask that leaves the bridge of his nose and his eyes exposed and digs a little too tight into his cheekbones, exposed without the thing of metal to keep him chaste. It was never a risk that he would be anything other than chaste, but the confirmation of the belt was comforting. The only other times before when it was taken off had been the standard resizing that had to be done as he grew from adolescence into an adult, and the occasional times for health checkups that every Imperator dreaded but knew was necessary to keep them in fighting standard.

Dog was weirdly hard to find, but I found one in a Diomede snippet.

For a moment, the two stand there, lonely inky shapes in a mostly-unseen basin of partial marsh-land. Nothing to hear but wind, and distant sounds of man and steed breathing in heavy synchronisation. Clearer, the howl comes. It’s a sound he knows well, but never before have the echoes of wolves and wild dogs in the distance made something like dread drop into his stomach. Goosebumps prickle like a rash across his arms and back. The leather strap he holds digs into his palm, becoming warm and clammy with his sweat.

Burn comes again from another Imperator V snippet, of course from the car that explodes, although funnily enough its use here isn't for the car.

Sharply coming into view, he can start to see the sparks of flame licking all around the vehicle, engulfed, the pockets of embers that fly around like passengers throwing themselves off a sinking ship. The air is so frigid that his lungs burn from exertion far easier than they would normally, but V doesn’t slow down, not even when his ill-fitting mask starts to become dislodged from his face, a second skin starting to shed. He only starts to slow when he is mere feet away, as glass that shattered from the windows crunches underfoot, staring at the warped chassis of metal from the impact it had, somehow having partially overturned.

Either comes from an area of the world I haven't spoken on here too much, featuring Nicolau and the rest of the Shimmerfolk, the cyborgs/androids of Nod.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her. He does. Implicitly. They had to trust in each other, because they could trust nobody else. It was the foundation on which their people worked. Trust, blind faith in one another. It’s not that he doesn’t trust himself, either. He knows his body, or most of it–the micro-cables that run through his body in place of blood vessels, the titanium skeleton that mimics human bones, the processors in his cranium and ribcage where organs might be, the synthetic plastic wrap simulating soft organic flesh that covers these and hides them from sight. He knows the reinforced joints along his kneecaps, capable of drops up to 175 feet. He knows his body will automatically run a self-repair protocol if the fall exceeds that. He knows that death is not a certainty but a suggestion for him, that even if his body cannot self-repair sufficiently, so long as he stays out of the moss his body can be recovered and fixed.

I'm tagging @bebewrites, @words-after-midnight, @spideronthesun, @moonandris, @elvain and @digital-chance, as well as you! If you want to 😉 Your words are require, fasten, debris and humid. Bonus points if you have archaic in there!

#find the word tag #tag games #beno volenti #diomede #nicolau #anti-chronicles

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akradekra · 11 months

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Passionate Resuscitation Pt. 1 I can remember when it started. It was the scene in Superman Returns where Superman is at the hospital after falling from the sky. His suit being ripped off, showing his bare chest, the ambu bag over his mouth and nose, and finally the way his chest rose after being shocked by the device I didn’t know the name of yet. It awoke something in me, a desire, an obsession (it also may’ve awoken my bisexuality, but that’s another story). I wasn’t sure what it was, all I knew at the time was that that scene turned me on.

It took me years of watching similar scenes, doing research, and a couple fantasies to figure out what was going on: I was a cardiophile with a resus fetish. The sight of someone under CPR, using defibrillators to shock someone’s heart, heartbeats themselves, it really got me going, and it only grew as I went through adolescence, especially through high school and college. Of course, I kept all of this to myself for years. I didn’t let anyone know about my fetish, I COULDN’T let anyone know about it, because what would they think? Particular and strange fetishes are already generally frowned upon, and a resus fetish definitely fits into that category. So, I kept my fetish, my obsession, my desires, all to myself. That was until SHE came into the picture.

In many ways, she was my dream girl. Long curly red hair, mesmerizing bluish-green eyes, ruby red lips, silky smooth pale skin, an hourglass build, and of course, big round tits and a dump-truck ass. Men would give up an arm and a leg to be with her, women would get plastic surgery to look like her. Her looks weren’t the only thing she had going for her though. She was outgoing, she was funny, she was kind, she was caring, she took charge when need be, she was the life of the party. In other words, she was completely out of my league. Well that’s what I thought at first.

I’d seen her from time to time in previous years, but we officially met on the first day of the new semester. I was early to class and so I found a seat and just chilled. Then she walked in. I was mesmerized by her immediately. Then I realized she was heading in my direction. I slightly panicked a bit before she asked if the seat right next to me was taken. I said it wasn’t, and the next thing I knew this gorgeous lady was sitting right next to me. As we waited for class to start, she asked me if I had a spare pencil. I said yes, and gave it to her. Then she started asking me questions, simple ones like where I’m from, what other classes I was taking, my hobbies, interests, stuff like that. I was surprised by two things: 1. How easy it was to talk with her, and 2. How she was willing to talk to me, a random guy she just met, and how quickly we connected. We continued talking until the professor showed up and class officially started. As the lecture went on and on, I kept sneaking glances at her, checking her out. A few times, as I turned my eye to look at her, I thought I saw her eyes turning to look somewhere else. Was- was she checking ME out too? No way, how could this bombshell be checking me out? I didn’t think I was remotely attractive or close to her type, so I must be going crazy, right? Before I knew it, class ended, and I was getting my stuff to leave, but before I headed for the door, she gave me something, a folded piece of paper. She told me to read it when I went back to my dorm room, and gave me a wink before she left the classroom. This isn’t real, right?

I couldn’t stop thinking about the paper all day. I was anxious, waiting as the hours ticked by so I could immediately head for my dorm. Then, finally, the day was over and I went straight to my dorm. Upon arriving, I closed the door, sat on my bed, and opened the paper. On the paper was a phone number, as well as a note that read "You’re fun, call me sometime <3." Oh yeah, this was real.

Over the few weeks, we spent a lot of time together. Talking, studying, walking, reading, drawing, the works. We grew close, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, we confessed to each other. I couldn’t believe my luck, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, who I liked, liked me too. A part of me still thought this was all a dream, but when she kissed me, when she put her lips on mine, I knew it was real. This woman liked me, and she was now my girlfriend. I was in love. And for a while, I forgot all about my fetish. Until it happened.

She was visiting my dorm room for a studying session. I had to use the bathroom, so I left her unattended for a while as I did my business, as well as sprucing myself up a bit. When I exited the bathroom, I noticed she was sitting on my bed looking at a journal. I thought at first it was her note journal for class, but as I got closer, I realized it was one of MY journals, more specifically a sketch journal. When she noticed I was out of the bathroom, she turned to me and asked me what this was. She turned the journal around to show me what she was looking at and my stomach dropped. On the page she had open was a sketch of girl under CPR, with an intubation tube in her mouth. I froze. I started stuttering as she looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. Then I took a few deep breaths, sat down next to her, and began to talk.

I told her everything. About my resus fetish, about being a cardiophile, when it started, the whole story. She only interrupted once, when she pointed out that I liked to lay on her chest a lot, and that now she knew the reason why. After it was all said and done, we sat there together in silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and I was slightly embarrassed now that she knew about my fetish and the fantasies I had. I wasn’t sure what she would think. Maybe she thought I was a freak and was thinking how to tell me she was breaking up with me. Before I could think farther however, I felt her hand on mine. I turned to look at her, and found myself mesmerized by her eyes. Looking into them, I got the feeling that she was telling me things would be okay.

Before I could say anything else, she got off the bed and onto the floor. I asked her what she was doing, and she looked before saying "This is your fetish, isn’t it? I want to help you make it a reality." To say I was caught off guard would be an understatement. I was in shock. Was- was she really willing to let me do this stuff on her? No way. I asked if she meant it, to which she responded with astounding "hell yes." This was really happening, wasn’t it? With only a bit of hesitation, I got down on my knees next to her, while she laid herself on the floor. I sat there for a bit taking it all in, staring at her body. She was wearing a wonderful cotton beige turtleneck sweater which did a nice job of showing off her tits, and some tight denim jeans which also did a nice job showing off ass. I sat in a daze for a few seconds admiring her beauty before she called out to me, snapping me out of my trance. Once I gathered myself, we began.

The first thing I did was tell her to pretend to be dead. A little blunt, but we were both beginners in this situation so being clear was a must. She nodded before closing her eyes, parting her mouth a bit and let out a sigh like she’d just released her last breath. Her body relaxed, and her head fell to her right side so she could sneak glances at me. With that step done, I put two fingers on her neck. She had a pretty neck, one that was well defined, not too short, not too long. It also had some marks on it from when we made out last night and I nibbled on her neck a bit. I placed my fingers on her neck just below her jawline to feel for her pulse. Of course, since she was alive and breathing, it was there. I felt it beat under my fingers, around 60 beats per minute, the average amount. Despite already checking her pulse, I couldn’t help but place my ear on her chest and listen to her heart beating.

Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.

It was soothing, hypnotizing almost. I guess she knew this too since she put her hand on my head and gently scratched it. I stayed there laying on her chest for a minute before snapping out of my trance, looking at her and joking "aren’t you supposed to be dead?" We both giggled at my joke before she kissed my forehead and resumed her "dead" state. I put a finger up to her nose to feel her breathing. Again, since she was alive, of course she was breathing. She breathed gently in and out through her nose. Now that’ve checked all the areas, I now began the main attraction.

"No pulse, no breathing. Starting CPR." I had longed to say those words for years, and it felt satisfying to say them out loud, in a roleplay with my beautiful girlfriend no less. I began with rescue breathing. I gently lifted her chin up, and opened her mouth slightly more. I warned her that I would be pinching her nose shut, to which she gave me a thumbs up. With that, I gently pinched her nose with my thumb and index finger. I breathed deeply in, before I lowered my head to her mouth. The red lipstick she applied today made her lips stand out more so than usual, it made me crave her. Finally, I put my mouth over hers and gave her a slow breath into her lungs. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her chest rise before going down gently. I repeated the process again: I breathed in, locked our mouths together, let out the breath into her lungs, then watched as her chest rose and fell, like clockwork.

With the rescue breaths done, it was now time for chest compressions, the part of CPR that really got me going next to defibrillation. I again warned her of what I would be doing, to which she gave her consent, nodding her head. I moved over to her torso, and decided I would tease her a little bit by gliding my fingers over her body before I reached her sternum in between her breasts. The smile that briefly crossed her face confirmed that she liked it. I placed one open hand on her chest, and the other clenched over that hand. I was ready. With both hands in place, I gently pushed on her chest, then let it return to its previous position manually. I did 29 more compressions for an even 30, the required amount. With every compression, she let out a huff of breath and her head slightly jiggled as I gently pushed her chest in. Needless to say, I was very turned on. After completing the set of compressions. I once again found myself staring at her body. She laid there, perfectly still, eyes still closed, and lips slightly parted, as if she was really dead, waiting for my next move. I watched as her chest slightly rose and fell, then I had an idea. I leaned over to her face and quietly whispered "I think your clothes might be restricting your air flow. I’m going to have take them off." The smile that appeared on her face was the confirmation I needed. "Does she really like this?" I thought to myself. "Is she enjoying this as much as I do?" If that was indeed the case, then I might just well be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. Without anymore hesitation, I gently picked her head and body up and started taking her sweater off of her. Once it was off, I also took off her bra as well. It was white lace, the one she knew I liked. With her bra and sweater off, I gently lowered her down on the ground again. As her head touched the ground, she opened her eyes and looked at me. I moved my hand to gently caress her cheek. She put up her own hand to hold mine in place there. I then lowered my head and gently kissed her. A kiss full of love and compassion for one another. She trusted me, and I trusted her. After a few minutes like this, she closed her eyes again and went back into her "dead" state. It was back to work.

After two rescue breaths, I turned my attention once again to her chest. With her sweater and bra now off, her bare chest were now exposed and I once again found myself mesmerized by her tits. They were big (D-cup), soft, and round, and her pink nipples, thanks to being in the open air, were rock hard. I had the desire to start sucking on them, but I reminded myself to stick to the task at hand. A real medic wouldn’t stop to suck on their patient’s breast while they were in cardiac arrest. I think. Anyway, I once again put my hands over her sternum and began chest compressions, counting each one as I pushed her chest in. Her breasts jiggled which each compression, and her stomach bulged out slightly as her chest caved in. If I wasn’t turned on before. I definitely was now.

We continued our CPR roleplay for what felt like hours. As time ticked by, I got more into it. I was more urgent, I went a little faster with the chest compressions, I’d check her pulse and pretend like there still was none and resume CPR, I started calling out her name, and begging her to stay with me and to breathe. I was fully immersed in what we were doing, I was enjoying it, and I think she was too. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to have her right then and there. I went over to her lips, but instead of doing rescue breaths, I started kissed her. She was taken aback a little by this at first, but a second later, she started kissing back, wrapping her arms around me, and pulling me close while my hands caressed her cheeks as we kissed passionately. I pulled my shirt off and threw it aside, and began taking off my pants as she did the same. We were now fully naked in my dorm room, and we were making love after I had performed CPR on the woman of my dreams. I had never felt a higher feeling of satisfaction and pleasure as I had on that day.

After it was over, we laid there on the floor, panting, sweating, completely out of breath from the vigorous sex we’d just had. I got up, then proceeded to pick her up from off the ground and laid her down on my bed. I then went to bathroom, grabbed a towel, then went back and wiped off the sweat from her beautiful body. I asked her if she wanted any water, to which she replied yes. I went to the mini-fridge I had and grabbed a bottle for the both of us. Once she drank out of it, I had a swig as well. She then asked me if I wanted HER to dry ME off with the towel. I accepted, and she wiped the sweat off me as well. After she was done, she threw the towel to the side, and pulled me onto the bed. Once I was on, she wrapped her arms around me, and I did the same.

We laid there for a while in each other’s arms, not saying anything, but looking in each other’s eyes and occasionally taking turns kissing one another in whatever body part we felt like. After a while like this, she asked me a question: "How come you didn’t tell me about your fetish before?" I replied honestly, confessing that I thought she’d consider me some type of freak, and not want anything to do with me. She raised her hand to caress my cheek, told me that would’ve never happened. She loved me because she thought I was cute and funny and kind and fun to be around, and having fetish wouldn’t change any of that. She followed this by saying that she liked what we did, that there was something sexy about it, and that she wouldn’t mind doing it again. Her reassurance, combined with knowing that she indeed liked what we did… It hit hard. Before I knew it, I was crying. Someone had not only accepted me, but accepted my fetish too, and I couldn’t help but cry. She held me in her arms close to her chest, as the tears flowed from eyes, gently rubbing my head, and gently planting soft kisses on it. When the tears finally slowed down, we looked each other in the eyes again. Then I did something I had wanted to do for a while. I told her to lay on her back for a second, which she did. Then I placed my hand on her chest, right on top of where her beautiful heart was. I felt it beat under my hand. A steady 60 beats per minute. Then, I planted a kiss right on that spot. She asked me what that was, and I answered "I just kissed your heart." Once again, she pulled me in close, gave me the biggest hug anyone had ever given me and called me the cutest guy she’s ever met. We laid there for a few minutes, as I rested my head on her chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeat.

Though, as I laid there, I found myself thinking "What if I had to perform actual CPR on her? Would that ever happen? Would I be able to save her? Would I still have a resus fetish afterwards?" I forced myself to stop thinking about it, no way was I going to let thoughts like that ruin this moment. Luckily, it was then that she made a joke about how we were supposed to be studying, and instead had a fake medical emergency and sex. We laughed at this for a while before I asked her if she wanted to shower. She of course accepted my offer, and we headed to the bathroom, thoughts of what had happened today and what would happen in the future floating in our heads.

To be continued…

Next >

#resus #resus writing #resusfetish #cpr #my writing #cardiophilia #cardiophilia image

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siriuslystargazing · 1 year

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You know that moment from Arcane where powder is sobbing calling out for Violet, what if. And hear me out.

It’s Sirius and regulus.

Regulus thought he did the right thing by borrowing explosives from Barty and using them on death eaters. He didn’t think about the order members and the poor muggles that were trapped in the building. All regulus wanted to do was save his big brother.

Debris and fire consumed the warehouse bodies of innocent people and death eaters littered the floor. Sirius managed to peel himself away blood and tears smeared across his face. He’s 19 for fuck sake why is he fight a war! Sirius looked over at the body of an order member, he didn’t know his name yet he only turned 18 the other week. Sirius couldn’t help the tears that bubbled up in his eyes at the thought of it being Regulus lying there until that familiar voice came through, that naive voice “Siri! It worked!” Regulus cheered from the warehouse entrance he skidded over his face dropping at the aftermath of the bomb, he scanned Sirius he was clutching his ribs the same way he did when Walburga had finished punishing him. Sirius felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of regulus, he had a small cut to his temple but he was otherwise unscathed, unlike him.

“What?, what are you talking about” Sirius voice was low he was trying to piece it all together, “did you see me! The bomb me and Barty worked on finally worked!” Regulus beamed with pride. Sirius could feel the heat of the fire ranging around them his face remained neutral has everything hit him at once. This was Regulus’ fault.

“You did this? Regulus looked at Sirius confused, why wasn’t he proud or happy that he helped them shame crept it’s way through like cold dead hands, Sirius clutched his chest a little tighter wincing slightly “why? Why did you do this Reg?”

Regulus could feel the shame tear at him, it felt the prick of tears in his eyes. He’s done it again he messed up, regulus recoiled into himself clutching at his bag like a safety blanket “I-I was saving you” Regulus looked down at the floor still holding onto his tears, he looked over to the blood spattered glasses next to the body Sirius was standing over… surly it wasn’t James? Regulus felt his chest go tight a sob wracked it way though him “I only wanted to help” regulus felt his body go limp. “I only wanted to help!” Another sob came out, his bag hit the floor his knees felt weak. The tears finally spilled he new he was an ugly cryer so why wasn’t Sirius consoling him like he did when he was five?

Sirius held on tighter, he was angry. He said he would never get angry at Regulus but this was different “I told you to stay away!” Sirius promised himself he would never raise a hand to Regulus. But he did, it happened in a flash. One moment they were standing there the next regulus was on the floor his cheek stinging. Sirius couldn’t think couldn’t do anything he only felt hatred and anger towards his little brother.

Regulus choked on another sob, now isn’t the time for something like this “why did you leave me!” Regulus couldn’t control his emotions anymore, sob after sob came out. Tonight the past would resurface surrounded by the fires of consequence. Sirius grabbed his brothers face, it was like his the same nose and almond shaped eyes but his cheeks were rounder with adolescence, Regulus was 17 still in school it’s not June yet. “Because your a Jinx regulus! Your a fucking Jinx, a black cat in a human skin! Peter was right about you!” Sirius spat the words out at his brother, anger had finally taken control. Sirius was exactly like his father, passive until provoked to blinding rage.

Regulus continued to sob unable to draw a proper breath he kept muttering No like a mad man. “Please siri!” He choked out again and again until he saw his fathers rage within Sirius dissolve into regret, one of the many things that spectated the brothers from their parents was the fact they still had empathy and compassion for each other. Sirius moved his hand Regulus face, he just stared his his palm. Flecks of regulus blood were sneered over his palm from when he hit him. Regulus was properly ugly crying he balled his hands into fists pulling his jacket over to wipe away the tears and snot. “Sirius Please”

Sirius didn’t feel in control of his emotions or body, he thought the best thing to do was leave. He braced himself against debris and limped out of the wear house leaving regulus on the floor calling out to him.

“Sirius! Sirius please come back! Please, I need you” more sobs shot through him his breathing was erratic, Sirius let the please ring out as he hid behind the wall as he finally let the tears fall. Regulus was finally having the breakdown, everything that was pent up over the last 10 years was coming out and Sirius wasn’t there to help him though it.

——

I wrote this in the train to uni so it’s not been checked, it was just an idea okay if anyone wants to improve on it be my guest lol

#lil angst #black brothers #Sirius black #regulus black #angst Drabble #I wrote this on the train

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trannydean · 7 months

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Feigning Normalcy - Fictober Prompt #02

Prompt - #02, "Don't worry, I got you."

Fandom - Supernatural

Rating - T

Warnings - General angst, death and dying mentions, grief, torture mention, cursing

Word count - 1.4k

Summary - Jaime hasn't been taking care of himself since Dean left. Cas knows he needs sleep, and isn't going to let Jaime keep going without it.

A/N - This is a smaller piece of a future scene I plan on writing for my mainverse series for Jaime--I hope everyone likes it <3

It had been six days since Dean had left, and Jaime was showing no signs of returning to a normal schedule. He was still barely eating, and sleeping even less. Castiel knew this was an issue—knew even better now that he had experienced what being human was like. If his experiences had taught him anything, it was that humans needed food and sleep. Lots of it, really.

If you didn’t get that, it hurt, for one thing. As if your insides were revolting against you for not feeding them, and deciding to try consuming itself to satisfy the hunger. Or, your mind got fuzzy and you couldn’t concentrate, because keeping itself awake was all your brain could handle—it couldn’t start thinking beyond that.

Castiel had a hard time with this when he had first landed back from Heaven as a human. But after Dean told him to leave, and Jaime came with him, Jaime was very keen on keeping the both of them not hungry, not exhausted. Castiel recalled that Jaime had lived out of his truck, by himself, for a long time, and was already used to the conditions they met up with.

He was able to fix their situation swiftly enough to the point where they weren’t suffering too badly. Castiel had been lost, but Jaime had a constant grip on him, so at least he wasn’t alone. His companionship had been good.

But now Jaime was the one who was lost. Now Jaime was the one who needed someone to grip him and hold on tight, to let him know that despite how awful things were, he wasn’t alone. He needed that terribly right now.

Castiel couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the Bunker when Jaime was in this condition, so he had lingered, feeling awkward. He didn’t know how life usually was in the Bunker, but he was sure what occurred now wasn’t it.

He had watched children play, having fun with just existing. Though most of the young ones here were actually adolescents, poor souls stuck in between carefree child and experienced adult, it was almost certain to him that these sullen faces and quiet voices weren’t normal.

Sam was the one carrying almost all the weight of keeping things as usual as possible here. He tried acting normal, tried treating each day like an average one. But Castiel could see in all of their faces—it wasn’t the same, no matter how much they pretended it was. It wasn’t the same without Dean.

That’s what was hurting Jaime the most. Of course, that didn’t downsize any of the other things he’d experienced within the past two weeks. He had lost Kevin, he had watched Sam—Gadreel possessing Sam’s body, but still, Sam—being tortured, he had died, for goodness’ sake. Though Castiel and the Winchesters were unfortunately familiar with dying, Jaime wasn’t. This was his first time, and Castiel hoped dearly it was his last.

But losing Dean, again, so soon after getting back to him, was the final blow that had really thrown Jaime into the state he was in now. He would’ve been able to handle everything better if Dean was here. But he wasn’t, and Castiel was helpless to make that hurt go away.

He couldn’t remove the pain, he couldn’t fix this. That was something Castiel hated. All he wanted to do was fix this, but he couldn’t. No matter how many times he touched Jaime’s forehead, or how many soft kisses he press to his face or his heart, none of it could take away the anguish Jaime was harboring.

Castiel knew he had to do something, though. Jaime was going to kill himself if he kept up with not eating or sleeping. That was something he could remedy, surely.

So he entered Jaime’s room, the place he had been spending the most time in. He was usually at his desk or on his bed, laptop in front of him, looking for any clue to where Dean could have gone. Castiel was sure Jaime’s eyes were straining from how much they have been staring at the screen.

Right now, Jaime was sitting on his bed, legs crossed over each other. He didn’t look up as Castiel entered, though Venus did—she raised her head to stare at him for a moment, then rested back against Jaime’s leg, looking up at her owner with big eyes. Castiel could feel the concern that the little dog held for Jaime, and he wondered if Jaime knew how much his dog cared about him.

With soft steps, Castiel came to sit on the bed beside Jaime, on the opposite side Venus was on. Jaime’s eyes flickered over to him for a moment, before returning to the screen.

“Jaime,” Castiel said softly. “How long has it been since you slept?”

He was given a halfhearted shrug in return. Castiel waited a moment, to see if he would be given anything else to go on, but he got nothing.

“If you can’t remember how long it’s been, then that means it’s been too long,” he commented, quoting what Jaime had told him, several weeks back. Probably remembering this, Jaime let out a small huff, a little bit of amusement showing through.

“It’s fine, Cas, I’m fine,” Jaime told him, his voice a bit rough—it was from lack of use, and that was saddening, since Jaime wasn’t one for keeping quiet.

Castiel had by now learned that “I’m fine” was code for “I’m not fine, I just don’t want to talk about it”. Both Winchesters and Jaime did this so often that it was something Castiel was actually able to pick up on somewhat quickly. That was all right, however—they didn’t need to talk about it. Jaime just needed to sleep.

“You need sleep,” Castiel said bluntly. “Humans can’t survive on such little sleep. Your body is going to shut down sooner or later. Probably sooner, at the rate you’re going.”

“Dammit, Cas, I said I’m fine.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got better things to do than sleep.”

Castiel seriously doubted this, and he was sure that could be seen on the frown he gave Jaime. Jaime caught a glance of it and sighed heavily, rubbing his face with one hand.

“I’ll sleep later, okay? I’m doing shit right now.”

This was something common with this particular group of humans, too—they would say they’d do something later, but then didn’t end up doing so. It usually was something that could be counted under self-care, a category that Sam, Dean, and Jaime all had issues dealing with. It was incredibly frustrating.

He couldn’t let Jaime put off sleeping any longer. When Jaime removed his hand from his face, Castiel reached forward to press two fingers against Jaime’s forehead. As soon as his fingers touched, Jaime’s eyes rolled back, and a moment later, he was collapsed onto his back, out like a light.

Venus was startled by Jaime’s sudden collapse, springing to her paws and racing up to Jaime’s face. She sniffed him fervently, giving him a little lick on the nose before concluding he was okay. She sat back down.

Reaching for Jaime’s laptop, Castiel picked it up and closed it, returning it to its rightful place on the desk. Then, he lifted Jaime to properly lay him on the bed, covering him with his blanket, resting his head on a pillow. Venus curled up at his side, resting her head on Jaime’s stomach. She was a very good dog.

Castiel sat himself on the other side of the bed Jaime wasn’t occupying. He carefully toed off his shoes before bringing his legs up to rest. A soft sigh left him as he glanced over at Jaime, now sleeping peacefully. At least now he could get a little rest.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he whispered, unnecessarily. He had noticed Jaime had whispered similar things to him, when he was still human and Jaime had thought Castiel was asleep. He knew Jaime did it to comfort him, and Castiel wanted to do the same for him. Needed to, even.

He reached over to caress Jaime’s cheek with his knuckles, a slight touch he’d hardly notice even if he was awake.

Dean wasn’t here, but at least Jaime didn’t have to worry about that for a little while, now. He could sleep for a time. That would be okay.

#dean writes #fictober 2023 #oc: jaime morgan #oc: venus #castiel #jestiel #general angst #death mention #dying mention #grief #torture mention #cursing

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arcxnumvitae · 2 months

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“M'eudail,” the word came out more melodic than his usual tone. Balmoral took the hands of his Protector to shifts his steps. There was no one in the immediate vicinity so it went unnoticed. Though even if there were a witness, it was not unusual to see the king with his watchman.

Still, he was mindful to not drag Mhoirbheinn as he oriented towards one of the quieter towers. The last major post at the foot of the staircase. Climbing up and out of view, Bal took the other’s hand to lay a quick kiss as he kept ahold. It reminded him of their adolescence where neither quite knew what to do since being ‘together.’ How he proceeded to do something like that and it flustered his lover while it sent flutters into his chest. It has been a long time and they were ways past that.

He found the passage to lead to the roof, it usually without use but could see it recently been touched. Opening the hatch and taking lead, Balmoral stepped to the night air that carried his loosened braid. Atop the roof were cozy cushioning that took up a decent amount of floor space. Where there wasn’t that, there were either crystalline aglow, much like those found in the Unseelie though they were a more warm tone than the cool ones normally seen. Food and glasses were present with wine nearby.

“Ah couldnae get as much time as ah hoped off today,” the fae explained, “but ah didnae want my Valentine tae think ah forgot him.”

@thewolfisawake || Valentine’s Day Sweetness

At Bal’s call, Mhoirbheinn immediately halted his stride to turn towards his beloved, curious at the address. A quick glance around confirmed indeed that they were alone at the moment, and so it was with great pleasure that he let Bal take his hands in his, his curiosity only growing when his lover began to lead him elsewhere. Dutifully, always, without a single moment of hesitation, Mhoirbheinn followed him through the palace and up a flight of stairs, trying to guess his love’s intentions the entire time.

The answer was soon revealed to the man as they climbed to the roof. The picnic, if it could even be called that in its extravaganza, spread out before them and the sight of the lovingly crafted and elaborate setup took his breath away. He had assumed their work that day would keep them too busy to take part in any elaborate affairs together, and he was fine with that. Any moment spent in Bal’s company was enough for him. For Bal to have found the time to plan this…

Mhoirbheinn turned towards Balmoral and cupped his face, drawing the other into a long kiss. Only when his air threatened to run low did he reluctantly part from Bal, his forehead coming to rest against the other’s, and even then it didn’t stop him from laying more sweet kisses against Bal’s lips.

“I love you. I love you so much.” Paltry words couldn’t hope to ever contain the depths of his feelings, yet futilely he attempted it anyways. He did not have Bal’s gift for weaving love into poetry that could make even the most hard-hearted of Unseelie sigh with wistfulness, but still he tried. “I love you with every breath of air that leaves my lungs, every single beat of my heart beats for you. I love you, Balmoral Sitheach. My beautiful, my beloved.”

Reluctantly, one hand pulled away from Bal only to reach into the folds of his own clothes. He had planned to give Bal his gift once they had returned to his room, but what better time would there be than now?

His hand returned and he took hold of Bal’s to slide a ring onto his finger., a perfect fit of course Housed in a solid band of silver, the midnight blue stone set into the center of it seemed to house the night sky and glimmering stars within it. Looking at the king’s hair, it would be easy to tell where the Protector had gotten the inspiration from. Within the stone itself, if Balmoral were to rest a finger atop it, he would be able to feel it thrum ever so gently, an arrhythmic beat that matched the thrum of his lover’s heart. It cost a pretty penny to make, and an even prettier penny to have enchanted to connect the stone to his own heartbeat. None of that mattered any in the face of finding a gift for his love.

Lifting the hand that now wore the ring, Mhoirbheinn pressed a single kiss to his knuckles.

#thewolfisawake #{Mhoirbheinn Answers #{My Heart is Yours; Always and Forevermore || Mhoirbheinn and Balmoral}#SAAAAAAPS #very cute #long post

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inkburnt · 3 months

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Madge headcanon #1

PROFILE

Madge Rafferty is a witch whose craft leans toward the practical rather than the abstract side of magic, though she practices elemental magic as well. She is something of a rival to V, though her antagonistic first impressions belie all that there is to her.

APPEARANCE. She stands at 5'7", about average height for a woman of strong Irish stock. Her complexion is healthier than V's, even Vera's: she's not pale. Her face is between triangular and oval in shape, with her features such as eyebrows, nose, cheekbones being more rounded than angular—average, in other words, like the shape and size of her lips. Her nose and eyebrows, however, are thin, and her eyes are gray; alert, sharp, and intelligent. A natural redhead, with straight auburn hair that reaches the bottom of her shoulder blades but is often kept tied in a ponytail. She bears no scars, blemishes, or noticeable birthmarks. Her build is again average, mesomorphic, so her body is in the shape of an hourglass; however, she is neither voluptuous nor skinny, but also of average weight and shape. She dresses casually, not particularly feminine nor particularly masculine, though her signature color is garnet and she likes to wear shades of red in combination with shades of brown. White, creams & tans, and black are also on the table.

CHARACTER. While Margaret is her full first name, she actually hates it. "Madge" is her preferred nickname and virtually the only name anyone is allowed to call her. Maggie and Maggs/Mags are other diminutives she isn't entirely fond of, either, but she could warm up to those given her relationship to the person using said names. The name Margaret is of Persian origin and generally means "child of light."

She's a solid Irishwoman, and that goes all the way from her roots to her behavior. She can be very curious, irreverent, blunt, witty, and verbally combative if she's in a pressing situation or with someone she doesn't much like. However, she can also behave this way around complete strangers, although it's largely situational and she's usually smarter than that anyway. In truth, she's a highly intelligent and even intellectual woman, however her emotions are not as educated. She is a Scorpio, a water sign on the opposite end of the spectrum to V's Pisces—similar and dissimilar, as they both harbor distrust in others and prefer keeping to themselves. They don't care to make friends, they are introverted, don't speak up first; observant and cautious, over-thinking, realists to pessimists. They are even the exact same age (in The Witching Hour, that is thirty-one). However, where V is shy and naive, Madge is fiery and wiser. At times, she doesn't think (but that can also be said of V) and often regrets it when it's a little too late. Suffice to say, both sorcerers are emotionally unintelligent, repressed and immature to some degree.

Madge's personality does branch off with differences of her own, of course. She has a tendency to act impulsively and is often judgmental, drawing conclusions before the full picture is laid before her. She can be intense in many areas. She has no fear of speaking out, but only does so when her emotions are riled (and it doesn't take much to get them there); and when it comes to that, she will swear and slander until she's out of things to say. She doesn't have a sailor's mouth, but you will hear profanity slipping into casual conversation with her. Though she may be given to temperamental flare ups, she is far from an idiot. Credit for that is not only due to her having graduated from the University of Oxford (she's spent much time in England), but to thorough research and simple life experience. She is rightly aware of her intelligence, and her confidence stems from what she knows she can do. Recognizing her limits, however, is a different story: often harder to do, and she's reluctant to admit where she falls short.

Because of the way her adolescence has gone, she's a bit prickly toward men, and she seems to assume a sense of rivalry where there really isn't any. She also harbors issues with rejection that he likes to keep under as tight a lid as possible. Her feelings and perceptions are usually one-sided, and once she sees this for herself, she'll cool off. If she feels wronged, however, she will pursue her need for justice to the fullest. You can imagine what this might entail for V—and, indeed, even Vera.

SKILLS & ABILITIES. Madge is largely self-taught (started studying under her mother and Vera's coven), taking to a sorcery different from V's in some key areas. Both enchant objects and craft charms, perform rites, create their own spells, wards and incantations, and share other techniques and follow certain standards at the core of what they do. Like V, Madge has branched away to forge her own sorcerous path. She has leaned toward the more practical aspects of sorcery, which puts an emphasis on materials and the physical body. For example: she's created an incredible healing salve made up of only herbs and extracts activated by incantation; she's learned how to put together enchanted salts combined with other ingredients for a "tracking powder," to name just a couple. Practical applications such as these, and others, rest at the heart of her magic. In this way, hers is the "practical" while V's is the "abstract" (because he relies more on the intangible and psychical), and this is the clearest example of how they contrast each other.

Further, she's more or less mastered how to perform elemental magic, but she does so with a unique spin on it. She actually draws on her own body's elements to produce a corresponding elemental discharge. For example: her breath for a gust of wind, her body's electrical current for some sparks, the heat inside for a spit of flame, her body's water content for a spray or steam. Even in this way, her magic does not reach beyond herself but is still very much of her and within her, contained, and on a small, grounded scale. But she makes use of incantation as well, and has plenty of those (which are typically one word, in Irish Gaelic) up her sleeve. Again, contrasting V in large part.

She's not clairvoyant or spiritually sensitive like he is, bearing none of those gifts. She's also a pure-blooded human, which also means she has no hidden talents, quirks or traits to fall back on like V has. She also has limited to no prior experience with demons; she doesn't even know "devil hunting" is out there. The two sorcerers are surely opposite in many ways, but they are as similar as they are dissimilar. In one sorcerous area they are alike is partnering with familiars. While V has three, Madge has one, and it is in one of the most vicious, relentless, indomitable beasts of the underworld: a Fury. A stunning fact, considering a woman of limited experience with demons was able to tame and befriend such a demon. But like any good familiar, her Fury is loyal to the end and as good as a best friend to her. In fact, she's affectionately named her Carmen, inspired by the opera she went to see during university (but the name is also evocative of the color carmine, because Furies are red).

On a more "normie" level, Madge has taken self-defense classes during high school, so she is, by herself, no pushover and isn't afraid to prove it. She's also a certified linguist, specializing in onomastics, the study of proper, personal names. However, being that she needs food to eat and has bills to pay, she's settled with a teaching job in English.

#dmc oc #devil may cry oc #dmc headcanons #headcanon #dmc5 v #dmc v #v dmc5 #v dmc #character: Madge Rafferty #Tagging V since my girl here is very relevant to his story.#Which you will soon discover in TWH.#Madge is also sort of a foil to V; but that happened more accidentally than deliberately. Love how alike they are but also how /opposite/.#I'll post her backstory in time! Kinda don't wanna spoil that yet lol.

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ambercoloredfox · 1 year

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A Thousand Wishes

Summary: One night in 1898, Hob Gadling discovers a wish and a regret, both born out of the loneliness of immortal life.

Pairing: Morpheus x Hob Gadling x f!Reader/OC

Rating: Teen

Notes: *slaps the roof of this fic* This baby can fit so much angst. Yes, if Reynard was played by an actor he'd be David Tennant.

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"You'll catch your death if you stay out in the rain like this."

A wretched low laugh rumbled out of me. If only. He watched me with searching eyes, still trying to piece together the puzzle. My lips curled over my teeth.

"I'll be fine. You should go inside though."

You're more likely to catch death than I ever will. I kept those words hidden and caged to my tongue. Too dangerous to reveal too much.

Gadling paused for a moment, considering something. Then he hopped off the crate. Rain splashed at his feet. In one swift movement he turned to me, holding out his hand.

"Come with me? I could, uh, buy you a drink?"

Still, the effects of it shaped my world like the oceans and mountains shaped the continent. And just like these facts of nature, none of it was my doing. Technically.

It all happened a very very long time ago. Or so I was told. A thousand dreams that became wishes, shooting stars raining across the cosmos.

Not in this life, anyway.

Though, in some intangible way, I shared the blame. One, One thousandth of it. A fraction, less than one percent, that kept me forever running-- a shark, ancient and deadly, chased by impossibly bigger predators, that forced me to never swim backwards. Only forwards. What was once a predator, turned a petty scavenger just to survive.

Survival looked less and less likely as the decades passed. Strange, that my kind were once thought akin to gods. Though not entirely wrong.

We soon discovered that our apotheosis would not lead us to salvation. Instead, even the best of us was splintered upon that godhood-- shattered like glass turned to sand and cast into the wind. Reincarnation became our only saving grace, though it was just a different form of running. A way to delay.

I wondered, occasionally, if maybe we deserved it for what my kind had done so long ago. Other times I raged against it like a beast in a cage, broken howls of why me and it's not fair, the sound carried on the wind to unhearing ears.

Inside, my soul was ancient. Outside, I was so very young, still a mortal age. The fact clung to me like pink raw skin after a blister. In a world where the smallest mistake could mean ruination, I was drowning in naivety. An adolescent, given wings of copper and tossed into the storm of fate, expected to fly through the thunder.

One day, these wings would catch the wrath of lightning and I would fall, without the promise of death to catch me. Death was too kind for a wretched thing like me.

Who would be the last? I wondered. There were so few of us left. I thought, maybe, to ask Reynard how many we numbered now. I was sure he knew. Yet everytime the question came, it paused at my lips, saturated on my tongue. Did I really want to know?

I wasn't alone. That's all that seemed to matter. I would cling to that fact like a lifeline.

The stink of garbage was repugnant. Rotten fish and banana peels. I wrinkled my nose but carried on, hopping up on the waste barrel like a well deserved throne.

Dark eyes found my own and I froze. The hair on the back of my neck rose. I took a quick mental check of myself, forever doubting, as I was always taught to be careless was to be doomed.

Nothing was amiss. I appeared just as I needed to.

He continued to stare, looking far too closely at what should have been a scene that was not noteworthy to his kind. His eyes were large and round, surprised and confused, as he stood with one foot inside the pub, his body half turned towards me.

Something deep within me recognized that the man who stared was ever so slightly off. My lack of life experience meant I could not pinpoint how. A thing clung to him, or perhaps a lack of one.

We watched each other, recognizing each other's strangeness. I waited for him to make the first move, adrenaline setting my legs like coiled springs.

His eyes darted inside, and then back to me. Then he made a decision. The man moved, his foot sliding back to join the other outside. A hand gripped the doorway, betraying the tension that refused to show in his expression. A warm dark gaze stayed trained on my own as he shifted slowly out of the pub, moving as if trying not to startle me.

All at once, the realization hit me and cemented me in place. Those bright eyes should shine with a bit of immaturity, should've been far less knowing. Instead, settled deep inside was experience. Age.

He was far too old for a normal man.

Yet his scent was unremarkable. Human just as any other.

I should have run. Should have taken my chance to escape. Maybe I was far too naive to know when questions became fish hooks. Curiosity kept me planted in place, just as it drove him step by step closer.

His mouth opened, poised to speak, but the words froze on his tongue. My heart raced like a rabbit in my chest, but the instinct to chase after it, to run away, was muted like the grey sky above.

"There you is, Mista Gadling." A woman purred, strung across the door frame like it was a stage and she was the featured presentation. "I was hoping you'd come by again tonight. Can't resist my womanly charms, can you?"

The rain that had been threatening all day finally broke free from the clouds in a light mist.

A rueful smile tugged at his lips and I caught the beginning of rolled eyes before they shut. He turned back to the door of the pub, his features relaxing into a more pleasant greeting.

"Hello Lou." His profile revealed a half hearted smile. "Should've known you'd be here."

"I'm always here, luv. Now stop watching foxes and come get out of the rain. If you're lucky I might just let ya buy me a pint." She winked at him.

The man named Gadling gave me one last curious glance. I wrapped my tail around my paws and tried to act inconspicuous. It seemed to work. He retreated back into the shelter at the woman's beckoning, turning his back on me.

I let out a breath of relief, yet curiosity still sparked through me, twitching my tail. My eyes stayed on the windows of the building but I gained no answers. Time slipped away from me, trickling like the water that fell from the sky.

There you are. A voice spoke through my head.

I startled, nearly falling from the barrel. Older tawny eyes looked up from under a parked carriage. Reynard looked both ways before darting across the street to join me under the short awning of the alleyway.

We should really move on soon. Too long in one place and something could pick up our scent-- Are you alright?

Any other kind might not have been able to see the worry that plagued him when he looked at me. But he and I were the same. We spoke together in a language that consisted of more than just words, as all our kind did. Our minds grazed past each other, the touch of soft new fur.

I'm fine. I think. The echo of my mind a wisp of thin white smoke.

Reynard hopped up on the barrel next to me, forcing me to make space for him. His keen eyes sought my own. I stared at his bushy tails, pressed tightly together to make the illusion of a singular. Small grey hairs were starting to make themselves known.

What happened?

I wasn't sure how to explain it. So I didn't. It was probably nothing, really. Just some human who saw a fox. That was all. Right?

Kit? His anxiety laced the nickname like arsenic, making my stomach coil.

I finally met his eye. It's nothing. Really.

He did not believe me.

Show me. Reynard demanded, pinning my gaze in place like a butterfly to a board.

I hesitated.

It was enough to spur him into worried action. His experienced will dug into my mind, easily by passing my unskilled defenses. The memory was torn from me for his examination, leaving tattered flashes of images before my eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was over. His mind soothed the frays of my own, petting down ruffled fur.

That is strange. He agreed, turning towards the pub.

His agreement only made me feel worse. Strange was bad. It meant dangerous.

I stuck close to his side, watching as heavy drops of rain collected and splashed on cobblestone. Reynard set his tail around me, both as an apology for forcing his way in my head and as a soothing gesture. I stayed quiet as he thought.

Then, he turned to me, eyes full of mischief that made him seem hundreds of years younger.

You could find out.

I glanced to the pub then back to him. Isn't that dangerous?

His returning thoughts were a hum of acknowledgement. I'll stay right by your side. No harm will come to you on my watch, kit.

Reynard lept from the barrel into an awaiting puddle, making hardly a splash with his graceful movements.

Besides. You need the practice.

Knowing he was right, I followed him and tried to subdue my childish huff of annoyance. It's not like I was bad at it. We stopped in an abandoned alley, made darker by the rainy day.

In the blink of an eye, he grinned down at me in the form of a man, all stretched smiles and lanky height. A form that was easy and familiar to him. All the strangeness that made up our kind was carefully tucked away behind flattened hair and a smart suit.

It took me a moment longer, trying to get it right. Holding the picture of myself in my mind, then breathing into the form like a meditation. The warm hum of magic seeped into me, the chime of my Gem sounding through my soul. A wish fullfiled. I smoothed down my hair, double checking I had no ears visible.

"Come on, hurry up!" Reynard said, betrayed by his playful smile.

Reynard frowned at me. "Ah, ah. No."

I blinked at him, then spun, trying to see if my tail was visible. When I found nothing, I raised an eyebrow at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Context, kit." He admonished.

"I don't understand." I said looking down at myself again.

His hands settled on his hips. "If you're going to present as a woman, you need a skirt. Or a dress."

I glanced down at my pants with a wrinkled nose. It was raining. Why the hell would I wear a skirt?

"Or just be a man." Reynard shrugged.

"That's harder." I whined. He rolled his eyes at my pout. "Fine."

Another wish. Another surge of magic. Then I was dressed in a grey skirt and matching coat, a similar style to ones I had seen humans wear. I gathered some of the skirt in my fist, trying to keep it dry.

"Better?"

"Brilliant!" He grinned, holding out his arm for me to take.

An umbrella appeared in his hand, keeping us both marginally dry as we stepped back into the street. I glanced up at him, a question poised on my tongue.

"Have I always been so short?"

"Hm?"

"You know, in all my lives." I muttered the last part of the sentence.

A frown tugged at his mouth and I wondered if I had overstepped. He never got angry at my questions, but sometimes he pirouetted away from the answers as if fearing a strike. Or, annoyingly, he'd answer that I would have to discover in time.

"Well," He drawled, "I can't exactly remember my own past lives. That's part of the trade off. Survive another day, start from scratch."

I nodded and looked back at the street, expecting that to be the end of it.

"But I did meet you. Once." Reynard continued at a mutter, eyes forward. "Goodness, I was young. I want to say, oh, 4 tails ago?"

Mirth filled eyes flashed to my own, his grin easy. "And yes. Just as tiny. Unless you decided not to be. Tricked me good, you did." The grin slid from his face as he turned away. "You taught me a lot."

Reynard's mind was held carefully out of my reach, the act too telling in its own right. Something about a blank face that was too obvious a mask. I let the curiosity of it drop. Just because you had the ability to plunder minds did not mean you would always find treasure there.

Rain dripped streadily from the canvas of the umbrella, no longer a mist. Our shoes clicked noisily on the stone, joining in the cacophony of the downpour.

"How could you tell?"

"Tell what, kit?"

I glanced up at him. "That it was me. That I'm the same soul."

"Ah." His jaw clicked as it snapped shut, a little too animal like. That was the only indication that he struggled with the answer, as his voice flowed from him with ease. "Well, it's all in the eyes, isn't it? Windows to the soul and all that."

I hummed in response, more curious about the words left unsaid. We turned down the street and the pub came into view. I stood a little straighter, all anxiety and raised hackles.

"Relax."

It was said both outloud and placed in my mind. I took a deep breath, mentally checking my form. He caught the flicker of attention that flashed through my mind.

"You look fine." Reynard sighed. "Honestly, give yourself some credit. Most of us never appear so put together at your age."

"Really?" I asked, startled at his confession.

"Really." He smiled back as we strode into the warmth of the pub.

I kept hold of his arm as he steered us to an empty table, not letting my eyes stray too far just yet. Better to keep your cards close to your chest. You never knew who was watching.

Reynard took my coat and took off his own, throwing them both over the backs of our chairs. I sat and tried to appear more relaxed then I felt. My eyes finally drifted freely, careful not to look like I was searching. Reynard waved down a waitress as he sat, somehow arraigning his gangly limbs into the perfect sense of ease, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

I found what I was looking for. The strange man, Gadling, half sat, half leaned over the bar as he spoke to the bartender, unlit cigar twirling in his hand. It hadn't even been cut, I noted, nor did he make any move to do so. A glass of liquor sat hardly touched. As he spoke, he kept himself turned partially towards the door, points of his shoes facing in that direction.

Was he waiting for someone?

Pain radiated up my shin as Reynard gave me a quick kick under the table. I turned to him in surprise, trying to hide my sharp inhale.

"Red, yes?" He said with the slightest tilt of his head towards the waitress.

"Uh." My mind scrambled towards his, floundering like a drowning man. His response was a life raft, his quick memory of the last few seconds pushed into my head. I smiled and turned towards the blonde woman. "Yes, red wine would be lovely. Anything sweet, if you have it."

She flashed her teeth politely and gave something between a curt nod and a curtsy before leaving. I exhaled in relief when her back was turned.

Reynard did not seem amused.

"It's not enough to look the part. You must also act." The words echoed in my head so his voice did not have to raise above a whisper. So he was not overheard.

"Sorry." I muttered. "Just got distracted."

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes glancing at Gadling before settling back on me. "So. What do you think?"

My head tilted at his question. This whole thing was his idea. "I thought you would know...?"

"Yes. But I want to hear what you think."

"I..."

Gadling glanced at the door, a flash of nerves across his face. I frowned.

"I think he's waiting on someone." I muttered.

"Good." Reynard broke out in a grin, leaning over the table in his excitement. "And what does that tell you?"

I drummed my fingers on the wood, sensitive ears picking up on every beat and echo. "That he's not alone?" I guessed.

Reynard rolled his eyes. "More than that."

A huff of frustration left my lips. I glanced over again. Dark warm eyes met my own and I, too quickly, looked away in my surprise.

"I dunno." I muttered at the table. My ears strained to pick up his voice among the crowd.

Instead I heard the familiar tapping of the waitress's heels approaching, the scent of her perfume so strong that it arrived long before she did. I matched Reynard's smile at her as she handed out our drinks, but it felt too strained, not fitting right on my face. Her own smile was just as tense.

Did she suspect...?

"Let me know if I can get you anything else ." She told Reynard, looking at him through her lashes.

Lifting his glass to her, he winked, laying on the charm to distract her from me. "Will do, love."

We exchanged nervous glances behind her back.

Relax.

I hid my emotions behind the large glass of wine, drinking deeply. To be relaxed enough to act normal, while concentrating enough to keep up the illusion of this form, was a difficult balance to master. Hopefully wine would help.

Reynard made it look easy, leaning back in the seat with an arm draped haphazardly over the back.

"Back to the point." He said, slight nod to the strange man in question.

I sighed. "Can I get a hint?"

"Ah, no." His grin was a flash of teeth. "You're already doing so well. Wouldn't have expected you to pick up on anything like this so quickly."

I frowned at him, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult.

His brows lifted, all open honesty painted across his features. "I mean it. His type can be hard to spot, if you don't know what you're looking for."

An opportunity arose and I lept on it.

"And what is 'his type'?"

Reynard flashed his canines, eyes gleaming with mischief. "That's the game, kit. I'm not letting you give up so easily. Now think."

Another huff left my lips and I took a drink.

"He's..." I frowned at the wine. "Old?"

"Yes. Good."

"But he doesn't smell any different. Or look it." The words tumbled out of my mouth as I grasped for understanding. "He just seems... normal."

Words had to be chosen carefully when spoken outloud.

"Except for..." Reynard smiled over his glass.

I thought back to how I had seen him in the alley.

"His eyes?"

"Good. What else?"

"I..." My frown deepened, then I sighed. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on, kit! You've got this!"

Something tugged at the back of my mind, but answers eluded me. I looked back to Gadling, hoping to find what I had missed.

His eyes were already on me, eyebrows pinched together. A chill ran up my spine. My instinct was to dart away, to run from his searching eyes in fear. But the fact was, he was strange too. I clung to it, letting it burn away the chill.

Defiantly, I glared back, refusing to cower. My mind connected to his unconsciousness through our shared gaze, careful not to breach his conscious mind and be found inside his head. We were kindred spirits in our puzzling, half formed question with no answers like driftwood in his mind.

Too quickly, the moment left. A faint blush colored his cheeks and he looked away. Caught staring.

I turned back to Reynard, worry bubbling in my gut. "He knows I'm different."

"Yes. Exactly."

The older fox beamed. I blinked at him. I hadn't meant it to be an answer.

"I don't understand."

His fingers circled the rim of the glass and he smiled with a raised chin. "The man is old. Experienced, you could say."

We stared at each other as I waited for him to finish. Reynard drew it out, stringing me along.

"He's waiting for someone..."

I continued to wait, but he gave no answer.

Instead, he scoffed. "Oh come on, kit! The pieces are all there, you've just got to put them together!"

I huffed in annoyance, draining my wine. This line of thought was getting me no where. Maybe I could turn to something different to find the answer.

"Who is he waiting for?"

The question caused Reynard's smile to slip.

"Dunno." He admitted, finding solace in his drink.

"You don't?"

He hummed thoughtfully through a mouthful of alcohol. "Other than the fact they're like us?"

Surprise shot through me like lightening, mixed with an odd light note. Something akin to hope. Delicate and easy to lose. My mind fumbled to his rather than speak.

He's waiting for a fox?

"Ah, no." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I just meant something, er, strange."

I refused to let go, holding tight to the feather light butterflies. Hope was not such an easy thing to kill. Yet to hold it was a delicate balance. Too loose and it would fly away. Too tight...

And it falls apart in your hands.

"How do you know?" My voice rose sharply. "It could be. It could be. You don't know it's not."

Reynard didn't meet my eye. Insect wings fluttered in my grasp.

The two of us sat in an uneasy silence. Reynard played with his drink, something serious fraying at the edges of his mind. His eyes stayed down, hardly noticing the prodding of his consciousness I was doing. Whatever was on his mind, it took him far away from here.

His mind was left too unguarded. A wisp of a moment found it's way to me.

You taught me a lot.

I reflected this memory back to him in his mind.

"What did I teach you?" My whispered voice didn't waver, a deadly seriousness. Knife to throat.

Reynard's eyes shut, hand chasing after to cover them. Sorrow broke through the cracks in his carefree facade. He was frozen, petrified and curling inwards.

"Reynard." I hissed, my eyes stinging.

Cool blade against a pulse.

Finally his eyes met mine, joined hand in unlovable hand with a broken watery smile. My grasp was too tight.

"Just you and me, kit."

Hope crumbled like dust to the touch.

A thousand wishes, shooting stars across the night sky. My hand found my Star Gem, grasping still, to keep hope from falling apart. It rang a hollow note, unable to take back the words Reynard had spoken and brought to life like a spell. The dust in my hands became bitter, a denial.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. A thousand. A thousand could not be only two. We couldn't be alone. There had to be more. There had to be more.

More than him and I burning against a dying light.

Yet I had never met another.

The truth of it hit me like a physical blow. My grasp on my form faltered, ears turning to points, tail curling around my leg like I could use it to hold myself together. My fists bunched into the fabric of my skirt, breath catching in my chest.

"Hey, hey. Look at me."

Reynard's mind curled around my own, protective, keeping me from falling apart. His hand sought out mine. Tears spilled over when I finally did as he asked.

"It's alright. It's okay." His thumb brushed over my fist. "I'm right here."

"What happened to them?" A broken sob of words.

"They're gone." His voice a whisper. "We've got each other."

"What happened?"

"Just calm down."

"Reynard." The word was more of a whine in the back on my throat. An animal sound.

"You need to calm down, kit."

Everything inside me shook. Nothing felt real. My vision wavered, the world a mirage, dancing shadows upon a cave wall framed by flickering firelight. I pulled my hand from his grasp.

"Kit."

His mind bore into mine, holding it down. A physical weight. Restraining. Forcing me to his will. Like a wild animal I fought against it. I bared my teeth.

A low growl ripped out of my throat.

Shock flashed across his face as if I had struck him. His grip on my mind loosened. I jumped to my feet.

People were staring. Instinctively, I checked my form. I was still intact, but fraying at the edges.

"Sit back down." Reynard ordered, all the gentleness drained from his face, leaving only hard lines and fire.

My own inferno blazed with righteous truth.

"You hid this from me."

The words came from behind sharp teeth.

"Sit. Down."

"You lied to me."

"Kit."

"I hate you."

The words were a bite that drew blood, sank deep into the flesh. Reynard leaned slowly back in his seat, his chin still held high. Too proud in the face of my ruination.

Something inside broke. The world was dark and I was only just seeing it. Even home held nothing sacred.

I did the only thing my kind knew how to do. I ran.

He did not follow.

Rain poured steadily over me and I let myself soak in it, keeping me in my human form. Cold and wet doused flames, leaving nothing but the sound of steps on cobblestone. The streets were nearly empty, sky growing steadily darker as the day came to a close.

I didn't know where to go, so I just kept walking. A chill kept me numb, only my hand warmed by the heat of my Gem. It was a stupid thing to do, to keep such a thing so close to the open.

I couldn't find it in me to care.

By some twist of stupid fate, I ended up back where I started. Walked in a circle. Rain drenched me to the bone. A stubborn fire stoked through me. I would not go back inside.

I sat on the familiar rubbish bin and let my head fall back against the wall, Gem tucked inside my joined palms. No where to go, no where to run.

Ever so slowly, waiting out the time until my wish was claimed. Whatever that meant.

Reynard had spoken so many words, but had told me so little. The truth was like a naked king. Only I had just now noticed, having it pointed out to me. There was so much I didn't know.

And he had been nurturing that naivety. Deliberately keeping me in the dark.

I shut my eyes and let the sound of rain wash my mind away.

"Er, you alright, miss?"

My eyes snapped open, startled that I had let someone sneak up on me. Gadling's warm gaze met my own. I tensed, acutely aware of the Gem in my hands.

"Christ, you're soaked. Come on, let's get you back inside, out of the rain."

His face was too open, too expressive. Honesty was a good disguise for ill intent. My eyes narrowed.

It didn't seem to bother him. He crossed the alley in quick steps, joining me under the awning. Gadling grabbed at his clothes and I tried to prepare myself for anything.

I was not prepared for him taking off his jacket and handing it to me. My eyes stayed trained on him and I made no move to take his offering. His eyebrows pinched together and I felt a ripple of worry from his unconscious mind.

"The, er, bloke you were with. I think he's gone. If it makes you feel better."

It didn't.

Gadling no longer waited for my permission, draping his coat across my shoulders like some long lost act of chivalry. He settled himself on a crate next to me. I blinked at him.

"You'll catch your death if you stay out in the rain like this."

A wretched low laugh rumbled out of me. If only. He watched me with searching eyes, still trying to piece together the puzzle. My lips curled over my teeth.

"I'll be fine. You should go inside though."

You're more likely to catch death than I ever will. I kept those words hidden and caged to my tongue. Too dangerous to reveal too much.

Gadling paused for a moment, considering something. Then he hopped off the crate. Rain splashed at his feet. In one swift movement he turned to me, holding out his hand.

"Come with me? I could, uh, buy you a drink?"

I searched his unconscious mind, his easy smile raising alarm bells. All I found was a faint echo of the blush that tinged his cheeks. His free hand found his neck to soothe his nervousness.

"If that's okay with you, I mean."

His expression only reflected what was in his subconscious mind. Honesty. It was not a thing I was used to.

Was that part of what made him strange?

Curiosity seized me in it's iron grip. Slowly, I closed one hand around my Gem to hide it and placed the other in his upturned palm. His smile broke free from anxiety like rays of sunlight through a storm cloud. Gently, he helped me to my feet.

Inside, we found a table next to the fireplace, Gadling pulling out my seat for me. He didn't ask for his jacket back and made no comment about the steady drip of my clothing. I watched him with the same attention someone would give a transcript of a foreign language, trying to parse meaning from unknown words. Surprisingly he didn't shy away from the attention, seeming to bask it and return with his own wonder and curiosity.

"I'm Robert, by the way. Robert Gadling."

Ever distrustful, I pondered if that was his real name. After all, who would be foolish enough to give their true name to someone they suspected was not entirely human?

His smile faltered a little at my silence, then picked back up as he leaned in towards me. "You know, it's generally considered rude to not give your name when making introductions."

Oh. Was that his game, then?

"Is it?" I asked, my smile all fangs.

I caught the tail end of surprise flash by in his mind, a quick passing thing. Something began to awaken there. Some form of understanding that I quickly had to correct.

"You can call me Kit." I offered. A false olive branch to lie about the existence of the shore.

"Kit?" He asked his eyebrows raising, head tilting as his eyes drank me in. "Is that short for... Catherine, perhaps?"

Odd name, his mind rang out. Nearly as open as his expressions.

"Sure." I hugged my arms close to my body.

"Well, Kit. Pleasure to meet you." A smile as warm as the fire at my back. "Let's get you something to warm you up, yeah?"

More alcohol. I didn't quite care for it. The burning of magic inside me was enough to stave off the worst of the chill.

Robert spoke in polite pleasantries. Small talk, nothing of importance. Yet I listened with rapt attention, trying still to figure out what was so odd about him. My subdued answers seemed to only open him up more to continue to chatter.

So I began to prod.

"Do you normally pick up strange women sitting in the rain?" I asked.

He blinked a bit, smile just short of happy. "Not normally, no. But I make an exception when they look as if they're about to let themselves drown in it."

I hummed softly into my drink. Really? Was that to only reason? Out of the kindness of his heart?

Certainly hard to believe that to be the whole truth.

"Listen," Robert said, shifting a bit in his seat. "I don't mean to pry. But I couldn't help but notice what happened earlier. Whatever happened with your husband--"

"Husband?" I snapped incredulously.

"-- or fiance. Significant other?" Robert shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Point is you can't go running around on the street alone. 'S not safe these days. Especially after dark."

"I can take care of myself." I bit out. His gaze still stayed steady on me. "Besides..."

My mind was still stuck like a hiccup on his assumption of mine and Reynard's relationship.

"He's not my." My nose wrinkled in protest at the word. "Lover. Or anything."

"Oh?" His hands busied themselves with the still unlit cigar, desperate for a distraction. "Then, ah, what. Is he?"

The words came stilted and halting. I looked for a double meaning in them, but only found that faint blush rising once more on Robert's face. Head tilted down as if trying to hide it, but eyes drifting back up to mine.

"He's..." I paused, trying to find a way to translate 'kin' into something more human. "My brother." The answer finally found me and settled in the air. Close enough.

"Oh. Oh, okay." More breath than words. A spin of the cigar.

"And I hope I never see him again." I added.

The cigar dropped on the table. "You can't mean that. Not really."

"I do."

Robert settled his arms on the table, muscles strained tight, a war raging inside him. Eventually something won.

"Look, I know you don't know me, but trust me. You can't let anger get the best of you." Age and wisdom were set bone deep in his intense gaze, once more telling of his strangeness. "Life's too short to hold grudges."

I pondered his words, brow raised.

"Is it?"

He startled like easily freightened prey and covered for it, badly, by busying himself with finally cutting his cigar.

"It is." He muttered. "The only thing we've really got in this world is each other. Other people. Best not to let that go to waste."

Robert's words were said with the sincerity of an oracle, whispered with reverence to things untold. I didn't argue. Unknowingly, he had said something that was far too true.

Two of a thousand stars left hanging in the dead black sky. The darkness of it settled in the pit of my stomach.

My mouth tried to run from it, a familiar path.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked, leaving no escape from the change of subject.

His smile was the rays of dawn chasing away a night sky. Robert straightened, filling with some lightness that he did a bad job of hiding.

"I'm meeting someone."

"Someone?"

"An old friend. Ah, well, I say friend..." He touched his earlobe, a nervous tick.

"Hm?" It came out more of a chirp than a hum as curiosity sparked under my skin. My head tilted, ears threatening to perk up past my form.

"Nevermind. Just someone I see. On occasion."

"But not your friend." I raised an eyebrow again.

"More an..." His mind flitted past the word stranger. "Acquaintance."

Answers were tantalizingly close, salivating in my mouth. I did my best to seem at ease, rather than the called to attention predator I was, nose pressed to the ground as I followed the trail. I cultivated an air of plausible deniability.

"What's his name?" I asked, sipping my beverage but not tasting it.

Robert's mouth open and he froze. His brow furrowed, looking away as he searched for answers. My mind pounced on his, teeth finding unguarded prey.

Never did find out his name last time. Christ, 500 years and I'm still calling him 'The Stranger'.

Everything snapped into place.

"Oh."

His eyes shot back to mine.

"You're immortal."

That's why he was so old. Why he was still human, nearly unremarkable in that fact. Why he seemed just barely touched by the strangeness hidden in the dark corners of the world, just to know that it exists. Why he was waiting for someone.

He had made some deal with an entity for eternal life.

"Wh-what?" Robert's face paled as a false smile affixed itself to his face. "I'm not sure what you mean."

The words were carefully placed banners, tattered in the harsh winds of truth. I had my answer now. Yet my burning curiosity only grew to a wildfire.

I leaned closer, chasing him as he moved back. My eyes shone with my eagerness. "How did you do it? What kind of deal did you make?"

His whole body was tense, the taste of pond water like physical presence in his mind. Then he blinked, and all the tension melted away. His expression suddenly mirrored my own. Robert leaned closer, looking at me with new eyes.

"You're like me." He breathed.

The words were a quick extinguish to internal flames.

"No."

Robert grinned like the devil. "Yes you are."

"No."

I could not be pushed any further back in my seat, though I still tried. A predator that had become prey. His hand found mine on the table, trying to ground me.

"Don't be frightened. You're not the first I've met."

Finally I stilled, my lungs no longer taking in air.

"I'm not?"

His smile rounded out with softness. "No."

Logically I knew, I knew, that he did not mean what I was thinking. But my fresh grief had hands and clung to anything within reach. Fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Robert shifted slightly in his seat, the two of us still connected by held hands. His eyes darted away for a moment, then leaned back towards me again conspiratorially.

"1354."

"Huh?"

His eyes crinkled and he let out a breathy laugh. "Year I was born." It was said so quietly that if I had human ears I might not have heard.

"Oh."

He was nearly as old as Reynard.

A pause, a nervous tick, before Robert got past his hesitation and asked. "What about you? How old?"

Something in me felt small and weak at this new found revelation. I hid my naivety in buried words.

"Older than I look. Too young to know better than to pursue curiosity."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I hummed softly, glancing at our joined hands. "It's dangerous to chase the unknown."

Robert followed my eyes. Somehow he got closer, warm breath brushing past my face. "Maybe I'm alright with a bit of danger."

Our eyes met, something charged and unspoken settling in his gaze. I was the first to look away.

This felt upsidedown. Of course, I wasn't inexperienced, having used seduction plenty before as a tool of survival. This was different. Heat crept into my cheeks.

Suddenly he let go, jumping back as if he had been caught committing some crime. I tried find his face, but he was looking away.

"Is your brother older than he looks as well?" Robert asked, a slight tilt to his head.

"Yes. Why--?"

"Kit."

Both a voice in my head as well as outloud. I jumped and spun around to see what Robert had been looking at. Reynard's stood with all wired tension, stance wide as if ready to bolt.

"Time to go." Energy rippled across him, unseen to the human eye, all heat and electricity. "Now."

I crossed my legs and picked up my glass. "I'm not finished with my drink." I said cooly.

Reynard's hands slammed into the table. "This is not a game."

Something is coming.

I tried to find meaning in his gaze, but only found open raw fear, festering with years of experience.

"You should calm down, my friend." Robert tried to soothe.

Fear turned to anger like dark clouds illuminated by lightning. Reynard got in his face, his voice a growl. "Hold your tongue, you pathetic little worm."

"Stop it." I grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and turned him back towards me. What's coming?

Now is not the time, was the only response.

"I can see now why your sister ran away from you. Are you always so unpleasant?" Robert had the calmness of a man who was far too sure in his own abilities. Mistaking the viper for a vine.

"You do not understand the meaning of unpleasant." Reynard bit at him. I prodded his mind only to find a scream of pure panic. It ignited my own.

I had never seen Reynard panic before. Worried, distressed, fearful? Yes. Panicked? Never.

He grabbed me and hauled me out of my seat. I tossed Robert's jacket back to him. "Thank you for the drink, Mr. Gadling."

Robert glanced between the two of us. "Are you going to be alright? Maybe I can walk you to the door?"

"I think you've done quite enough." Reynard growled, his grip tight on my arm. My questioning look was ignored.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Robert asked, unable to hide a wounded expression.

Reynard didn't wait for him to finish the question before tugging me away. Robert stood in a half hearted attempt to follow us, but something caught his gaze out the window. Our eyes met, his expression torn. Then he moved towards the front of the pub as we slipped out the back.

A grip that was more claw then hand dug into my arm. Rain splashed at our feet as we walked.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Keep moving."

"I haven't stopped. Answer me."

"Not now."

I tore my arm from his grasp, spinning on my heel towards him. "Then when?" I asked, teeth bared.

"When we're somewhere safe."

Reynard went to grab me again but I stepped away. His expression darkened. I didn't care.

"We are never safe." I echoed old words back at him. One of the first things he taught me.

His response was a flash of teeth through spat out words. "Now less than ever."

"I deserve to know! Stop treating me like a child!" I shouted at him. I pressed my will into his mind to try to pry an answer from him.

"You are a child."

I found that he honestly believed his words. It knocked the wind from me.

He didn't stop. Each word was spat like venom from his mouth, slowly escalating into shouts.

"Only one tail-- not even a hundred years old yet. Never been through a trial, never had to survive the Dreaming. But you're so damn cocksure that you can figure it all out! That there's some solution beyond survival! But there's not! There's only this!"

We watched each other, his chest heaving, neither sure whether the water on our faces consisted of rain or tears.

"Your kindness is going to kill you, Kit." Reynard choked on the words.

I shook my head, water splashing into puddles below. "You told me we can't die."

He took a step towards me. "And you don't understand how much worse that is."

"Because you won't tell me!" The words were all growls and barks, forced into his head in my fury. My hands found his chest and I shoved him, hard. He stumbled backwards.

I didn't wait for him to recover. My human form dissolved in a puff of smoke and I ran.

"Kit! Kit!" His voice faded behind me.

Darting through the rain, I turned through the streets with the intention of losing a pursuer. Water helped to mask my scent. I doubled back twice, keeping my path unclear.

Climbing on top of a roof, I was lost on what to do. Reynard was never going to listen to reason. I could never figure out the mystery of my existence with the small scraps he threw my way. But I had to know more. I had to learn.

It was my life. Didn't I deserve to understand why I suffered the way I did?

I thought back to what Reynard had told Robert. I think you've done quite enough. What had he done?

Something is coming.

What had been coming? How could it possibly have been Robert's fault?

Drops of water fell rhythmically from my muzzle. I watched them go, plummeting all the way to the ground. The phantom of warmth could still be felt in my hand that had been held.

Maybe.

Maybe there had been something about Robert I had missed. Then again, danger clearly lurked back from where I came.

Maybe I'm alright with a bit of danger.

One thing was certain. I wasn't going to find answers here.

Puddles splashed noisily as I trotted back to the pub. In the alley, I shook rain from my coat before turning human again. Just as I had manifested the form, I heard shouting.

"Tell you what!"

The voice sounded familiar.

"I'll be here in a hundred year's time!"

An echo of Reynard's panic kept me cautious. I peeked around the corner.

"If you're here too it'll be because we're friends!" Robert shouted at the back of an approaching dark figure. "No other reason, right?"

Hands grabbed around me, clamping over my mouth and stealing me back into the black alley.

Don't move. Don't think. Don't even breathe.

The familiar scent of Reynard wrapped around me. His hand trembled over my face.

The dark figure passed us by. My eyes widened. I was a tiny fish, only big enough to recognize the shadow of a collosal predator as it swam above.

"Fuck!"

Neither of us moved, too scared we would be seen. The rain became an obstacle, hiding footsteps from our straining ears. I wasn't sure how long we stayed petrified.

Slowly, Reynard released his grip on me. His eyes stayed trained on the point where the stranger had disappeared from view. I glanced in the other direction. Robert was long gone.

I don't understand. What... I licked my lips, too nervous to speak out loud. Who was that?

Tawney eyes pierced my own. The King of Nightmares.

His words didn't match the facts as I had seen them.

But... He was the one who gave Robert immortality?

Don't try to understand the decisions his kind make. Reynard answered. They obey no reason but their own.

His kind?

No thoughts came in return. I recognized the half answers I had received. More scraps thrown to keep me off the table.

Who exactly was he? Why were you so afraid of him?

A darkness grew across his face, all thorns and poison. He is one of the most powerful beings in all of creation.

Another half answer.

How do you know that? How do you know who he is?

I watched him shove his hands in his pockets. Hiding. Always hiding things.

What aren't you saying, Reynard?

Reynard began to turn and walk away, the opposite direction of where the stranger had been. I caught his arm before he could go.

Tell me.

He didn't answer and he didn't move.

I deserve to know. Answer me.

Face tilted up to the rain, Reynard closed his eyes.

Who is he, exactly? What is he to us?

Finally, finally he answered. A shaky turmoil of a response. A monster carefully let loose in fits and starts, lest it bites at the liberator.

Dream of the Endless.

I didn't understand. My mind turned towards shooting stars and a warm Gem well hidden on my person. Reynard caught my thoughts like fireflies in a jar.

His eyes opened and slowly he turned towards me, hand retreating from the depths of his pocket. Between his fingers shined the light of his Star Gem. He held it up to me.

In all my years of life I had never seen it. The fact that he revealed such a thing to me now only highlighted the severity of the thoughts that he communicated.

Who do you think we stole these from?

#dream x reader #dream x y/n #dream x oc #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #morpheus x hob #Morpheus x hob x reader #hob x reader #sandman fanfiction #my writing

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