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liahaslosthermind · 10 months ago

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~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒍 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 3 of Betrayal Summary: With renewed purpose, Azriel heads to the library to see what he can get about resurrection spells. He also has to deal with a family intervention. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Hurt/No Comfort, Death of a loved one, Grief, Cheating, Betrayal.

Azriel raced to the library after giving Adelaide a kiss on the forehead, praying it was the last time he would do so while she was dead.

He grabbed anything he could find on magic relating to the spell he found, and scared the shit out of the priestesses in the process. He would usually take good care to show patience and nothing but kindness towards them, but with the strong feelings of desperation, lack of care, and now suddenly, hope, he couldn't bring himself to hide his feelings.

Azriel started to walk back to her room when he stopped by his door.

Maybe he should shower? Change clothes?

These weren't things Azriel cared to do much anymore. He kept himself from smelling, and changed every time he did so. But that was out of necessity, and he did it as fast as he could. It was never to make himself feel better or because he cared enough to want to.

It was a weird feeling in his chest when he put on the warm clothes the house had given him. Happiness? Hope? Fear?

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't really call himself happy, only two hours ago he was planning on taking his life, but he felt he could soon be happy, he now had a future to look forward to.

A future in which his best friend was once again by his side.

In other new developments, when Azriel's stomach made enough noise for him to truly realize how much he was starving, he decided he did want a proper meal, not just the scraps he had been forced to eat by his family and the Shadows because he otherwise wouldn't have done so.

It was the middle of the night, a time that usually meant it was safe for him to leave her room without being disturbed. His Shadows usually would have alerted him if anyone had been there, but since he had come to the decision to take his life, they hadn't been speaking to him, certainly upset at his choices.

But they also didn't leave his side. They had been a constant companion these past 6 months and these past 500+ years. At first, he begged and begged them to leave him alone and while they would keep their distance when asked, they were never farther than a few feet away, tucked into the corner of the room.

In his hardest moments, when his chest felt like it was caving in from grief, they became a shield from the outside world, covering him and giving him a safe space. He could feel them providing a heavy weight upon his skin, not as to crush him, but to keep him grounded.

He had appreciated it, thanking them when he remembered to. But now, he cursed them out when he walked into the dining room to see his entire family sat at the table, staring at him, surprising him.

6 months ago, something like this would never happen. The Spy Master never allowed anyone to sneak up on him, to surprise him.

But he didn't feel like the Spy Master anymore.

"Sit, boy." Amren commanded. Not unusual of her to do so, but there was more in her tone than just snappiness. Hurt? Despair? He never saw those two emotions from her.

He felt his shadows nudging him to the empty chair at the head of the table, where she used to sit, Rhysand at the other end, Azriel usually by her right side.

But his usual seat was taken by Gwyn, one of the priestesses he had become almost friends with before... everything. He would train with them sometimes and he would usually go to her when getting books for himself or Adelaide.

Despite the Shadows' nudging, he didn't move an inch.

"What is this?" He asked, a thousand thoughts running through his head. Everyone looked... somber. Desperate. Angry.

"Please, Azriel" Elaine managed to get out before sobs left her mouth. While whatever they had in the past had faded, they remained good friends, and that's why Azriel finally sat down at the table with his family for the first time in months.

"Gwyneth came to us after you went to the library. She said- she said there was something wrong with you." Rhysand said, grief heavy in his voice. A rare occurrence, when the High Lord couldn't mask his emotions.

"No more than usual." Azriel snapped back. This was a waste of time, and he had not forgiven Rhysand for his actions, no matter how much his brother groveled, no matter how much Azriel knew he was mourning, no matter how ashamed he was of what happened.

How could he? When at the end of the day, Feyre was the one holding Rhysand's hand and comforting him, while Adelaide, sweet Addie, laid lifeless in a cold marble box.

"Your family said as much to me, but it was different, Azriel. I hadn't seen you in a few months and while I know this is a... difficult time, I couldn't recognize you. There was, there was something else." Gwyn spoke up.

"I went to check on you in her room, expecting to see you in the same chair, but you weren't there, just a note in your place.'" Nesta explained.

Bury me with her, thats all I ask. It was Azriel's final request, his final message to his family, after 500 years together.

Sobs came from somewhere but he couldn't tell who it was. The ringing in his ears, vision blurring, his heart dropping to the depths of his chest, it was all too much for him. He should have gotten the note the moment he came back.

Cassian, who was to Azriel's left, shook from the force of trying to not let his emotions take over completely, and spoke in a soft but pained voice, "Nesta came back to us, holding the note and looking as if she- as if she'd seen a ghost. When she read it out, to us, Rhys and I winnowed to her resting place. You weren't there, the only sign you had been was your blanket, draped over her. We thought- we didn't know if-" Cassian couldn't finish his sentence as Rhysand interrupted him, seething with anger and hurt.

"Haven't we lost enough? Why would you do this, Az? Are you truly that selfish?" He screamed. He only stopped and took a breath when Feyre put her hand on his arm, trying to offer a comforting touch. He continued in a more level headed tone, "Why not talk to us, talk to me? I know you are upset and hurt by my actions. Gods know I will never forgive myself for the rest of my days, but I lost the woman I had loved my whole life. We both lost her, I- all I wanted to do these past 6 months was grieve with the one other person who loved and knew her as much as I." Feyre retracted her hand, clearly jilted from Rhys mentioning his love for another female. "You didn't lose anything. You immediately had a replacement lover! I lost everything, and I had to stay by her side as she died, watching you betray her in her final moments. You are calling me selfish for wanting to end my life, but you would have been in the same position had you not had your mate eagerly take her place." He spit out the word mate in disgust. He had spent his whole life wishing for such a bond, but seeing all the pain it seemed to cause, Azriel now wished to never have one.

He had liked Feyre, initially. She hadn't been anything but kind to him, but she jumped at the chance to be Rhys' one and only, and the few weeks before Adelaide had died, Feyre had acted as if she had claim to the High Lord. As if a mating bond could undo centuries of love.

But Azriel guessed it could, seeing as she was now warming Rhysand's bed.

"Azriel," Cassian spoke up, trying to stop him from saying what he was about to.

"No! Fuck this. You were replacing her as she was dying. Don't talk to me about how much you are mourning her. If you ever felt even a sliver of the misery I have lived in for the past 6 months, it would kill you. And I hope it does."

"Azriel!" Feyre yelled, shocked at how he could speak this way to his oldest friend.

He turned to Feyre, finally addressing her for the first time in half a year, "I know you aren't, you are too self centered to, but I also hope you feel shame and disgust every second you spend with him. I hope it eats you alive and you grow to hate yourself because of it. I wish you nothing but a long and unhappy existence."

"How dare you speak to your High Lady like that." Rhysand yelled. In 500+ years, Azriel had heard him scream like that but never had it been directed at him.

The world simultaneously stopped turning for everyone in that room as it sunk in what Rhysand just said. What he just revealed. All Azriel could do was look at his family, seeing each of them not surprised at the information, but ashamed, and disgusted, and scared at what was to happen next.

They all knew.

"What?" The Shadowsinger asked with so much venom and hatred in his voice it was a shock the High Lord didn't fall dead because of it.

Rhysand sat completely still in his chair, pale and apologetic. He knew he had fucked up, and he had fucked up hard.

Swallowing his guilt and fear, Rhysand tried to calmly explain, more care in his voice than before: "A few months ago, Feyre and I accepted the bond. We then immediately married. It was a secret and intimate affair, no one else but the officiant and us two. I then declared her as my High Lady."

Silence fell as they all awaited the Shadowsinger's response. He didn't move for several moments, but his shadows became thick and heavy, almost suffocating everyone in the room. The High Lord and the General had seen Azriel do this before, but that was when he was about to torture someone, as he was about to hurt someone who he hated.

Using his wings to propel himself forward, Azriel launched himself at his brother, intent on giving him a slow and painful death.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand #feyre #cassian #elain archeron #nesta archeron #azriel x oc #acotar angst #~ lia's betrayal series ~

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puggnugget · 5 months ago

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A Bed In The Meadow

PART EIGHT

WARNING: NSFW!! SMUT, mature themes, 18 & over.

Writers Notes: Ya'll finna eat good, enjoy!

Word Count: 3,255

Gale sighed heavily, sipping his morning tea in front of the fire as his mind wandered. Last night certainly could have gone better. His heart was heavy with worry - the sudden uncertainty of his future, the orb, you. It was all so much, he didn't know where to begin or how to unpack it all.

Regret stirred in the pit of his stomach as he remembered how he had raised his voice at you, he hadn't meant to. He never wished to cause you grief or burden you with a weight no one could truly carry.

He wanted to be your peace, to be at your side, but everything felt so uncertain now with the task Mystra had placed upon his shoulders.

He loved your unyielding determination that defied the God's themselves, how he wished to have your optimism.

'There must be another way', your voice echoed in his head. Another way? This was the clearest path forward that could be found. He sighed, brows furrowed as he continued to lose himself in thought.

Astarion sat in front of him across the fire, crossing his legs. His eyes a mixture of emotions.

"Astarion, what are you doing up so early?" Gale questioned.

"Talking to a suicidal idiot, what does it look like I'm doing?" Astarion gestured, his tone snarky and low.

"Look, I'm truly not in the mood for this today -"

"And I'm truly not in the mood to deal with your relationship drama today, but here I am, assisting you in cleaning up the mess you've made." Astarion ran a hand through his hair.

"I would strongly disagree that I'm the one who made a mess-" Gale began before Astarion quickly interrupted.

"Yes, yes, that's all well and good - but you're the one who couldn't leave well enough alone, and now you have that pesky orb burrowed in your chest."

Astarion took a deep breath before beginning once more.

"But that's not why I'm here, I'm here to tell you to get your shit together, and to sort it out - quickly. Nothing is set in stone, so you needn't act like it, not yet anyways. You were dealt a shitty hand, yes, but that does not mean the game is over."

"Why do you care, Astarion?" Gale questioned, leaning forward as he studied the elf.

"If you must know," Astarion thought carefully.

"You hurt... my friend," Astarion paused, realizing the words that parted from his lips.

"She was a sorry sight last night, and I hope to never see her like that again." Astarion narrowed his eyes at Gale, issuing him a stern warning.

Gale sighed, his heart heavy.

"You must see my point of view, Astarion. It isn't so simple."

"Of course I see your point, Gale, and nobody said it was simple. But Tav is right, as she often is. You can't just role over and die without weighing all other options. If that is the route you are so determined to go down, by all means - but if you're giving up hope now, pursue her no further. Save her the heartbreak."

Astarion's words pierced through Gale's heart like jagged ice. There was no way he could let go of you now, not after everything that's happened.

"You've given me much to consider, Astarion." Gale looked down at his tea, cupped gently in his hands.

************************************************************

You avoided Gale for the better part of the morning as you and your comrades traveled through the vast and endless darkness. A slight hangover clung to you as did your regrets on how you handled the evening prior.

Stupid girl, you should've stayed - he needs you, and you walked away. You thought to yourself. You could not begin to comprehend the burden that was forced upon him, no mortal should ever have to face it - especially alone.

It took you a moment to realize a group of people lurked in darkness, torches alight with steady footsteps. The shadows came to collect as they pulled away a helpless soul from their ranks, your intervention was swift - no more lives would be lost this day.

Their appreciation lead you to the Last Light Inn where you had met Jaheira. You also found yourself amongst the tiefling refugees once again, learning they had not made it to Baulder's Gate as you had hoped.

All was explained to you over a glass of wine with Jaheira, you found yourself fond of her prickly demeanor. She offered you beds, food, and drink which delighted your party.

You had hoped for an uneventful afternoon, but after introductions were made with Isobel - the cleric that protected this plot of land - the Inn was attacked by the Absolute.

Yet again, you came out victorious as you had many times before. The rest of the afternoon was filled with assisting the clean up of your enemies bodies and viscera.

Come what you assumed to be evening time, you were utterly exhausted. This hostile land seemed to drain you of energy with its cruel, cold air.

Despite the fatigue, you knew you had to speak with Gale.

******************************************************

You tapped on his door gently, waiting for Gale's response.

"Come in!" he called.

You stepped into the dimly lit room, but it wasn't Gale per se that waited for you, but rather an illusion of Gale.

"Hello! I'm here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep, he has kindly requested your presence elsewhere this evening, may I escort you?" It asked.

"Ehm, I suppose so," you chuckled at the sight of the translucent Gale.

"Most excellent! Please, follow me!" It was enthusiastic as it lead you.

You had followed Gale's image out of the Inn, carrying a torch, until you came upon a clearing where Gale - the real Gale- sat. The sky above him was not pitch black like you had expected it to be, but was a mixture of perfectly placed stars, purples, greens, and deep blues that melded together in harmony.

You sat next to Gale quietly, in awe of the painted night sky before you.

"Did you do this?" you whispered.

"I did, the curse remains - but it is vailed for now," he said with a devilish grin.

You both sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity as you watched in awe at Gale's creation.

He took your hand, bringing it to his lips - planting a firm kiss on the back of it.

"If... if you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure your death had meaning?" Gale asked softly, squeezing your hand.

"Of course I would." You whispered in reply.

"But we cannot foresee how the end will play out, we cannot assume that this is the only way. You needn't die for your Goddesses forgiveness, Gale." You frowned, a tear gliding down your cheek.

"I'm... so sorry, for how I handled my part last night. I shouldn't have left you to deal with that alone, but I'm here now. I am with you. I cannot imagine your pain, your burden, but I will love you through it." He wiped the tear away with his thumb as you spoke, his deep earthy brown eyes softening. He cupped your cheek in his warm hand gently.

"I'm sorry too, truly. If you believe there is another way, I will put faith in that notion and try my hardest to see it comes to fruition. But I want you to understand, that if there is no other way - this is something I must do." He stroked your cheek as a frown pulled at his lips.

"I understand," you replied.

"You must know by now you're special to me..." He trailed off. "That I'm in love with you." His words made your heart swell, your face flush.

"I'm in love with you too," you leaned into his palm, smiling, another tear gliding down your cheek.

He laughed, "well, that certainly is a relief."

Your gaze met once more as you melted in is eyes, leaning towards him before your lips met his.

"I want to lay with you like the God's do," he spoke in between kisses.

"Show me," you begged.

***************************************************

Your surroundings were blurry as your eyes opened slowly, laying beside Gale. He had taken you in the weave in every way imaginable, your very soul felt as if it were electrified by the experience. The things he had shown you, you never knew such pleasure could exist.

You looked down in visible confusion as your clothes were still adorned on your body.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," he sat up smiling, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I did..." you trailed off.

"But?" He cocked an eyebrow with a concerned look in his eyes.

"But, I'm trying to make sense of it all.. It was amazing, you needn't worry there! It's just..."

Your knees clasped together, your body craved his physical touch now more than it ever has. Burning hot lust gnawing low in your belly, your slit dripping wet.

"Perhaps it's all just hard for me to understand and take in?" You looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of it like that," Gale said nervously.

"I want you, the real you - in the flesh... I want to feel all of it." Your gaze was intense and longing. The apple in his throat bobbed nervously before a bed with satin lilac sheets materialized before you in the meadow.

"I must confess, I am a tad nervous... It, uh, it's been a very long time since I could indulge... Longer still since it was truly... Physical." Gale stammered, lifting you to your feet.

"Don't worry, I'll take my time with you," you whispered in his ear and he shuddered in response.

You took Gale by the hand as you lead him to the bed, both of your bodies shivering with nervous energy. You draped your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him with a longing hunger, he moaned into your parted lips as you pressed your body into his. His hands holding your waist firmly, demanding more of you. You could feel his lust through his trousers, pressing into your pelvis, twitching and expectant.

You both collapsed onto the bed in a frenzy of movements, the satin sheets felt cool beneath your skin as Gale lingered on top of you, pressing his hips down hard onto your center. The pressure you felt building was pure torture.

Your hands were suddenly searching for his flesh, pushing them underneath his tunic and trailing up to his bare chest. He shuddered as your hands searched to feel every bit of him in a hungry haze. Your kiss deepening as his tongue slipped between your parted lips, your tongues stirring together.

In a swift motion you pulled at his shirt until you removed it entirely, casting it to the side. His brow beaded with sweat, his hair falling around his face creating a curtain between the rest of the world and yourselves.

He began to kiss you again, feverishly this time - as if he could not control himself.

"Gods, I need you," he whimpered into your mouth between kisses, you pressed your hips into his, his lust impossibly hard against your thigh.

"Then take me," you demanded of him.

No more coaxing needed, he was eager to listen to your command. He broke away from your kiss, trails of saliva trying to bind you together severed. He grabbed at your gown, lifting it up and over your head, casting it away - all that remained were your panties. Your bare breasts aching and alert in the cool night breeze.

"Gods above," he muttered, taking in the sight of you beneath him. He was trembling before you, his eyes wide and burning with need.

You smiled at him coyly, "what?" you asked.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes upon, I could worship you for a life time." He breathed, leaning down as he began to kiss and lick your neck. His stubble tickling you slightly, you moaned in response to his touch, and you could feel his lips curl into a smile as he continued his descent down your body. Making his way to your breasts, his breath hot and heavy as he lingered over them.

You writhed impatiently, awaiting his next move when suddenly his tongue coiled around a nipple, his hand grasping at the other. He rolled one in between index and thumb as his tongue lapped at the other. Conflicting sensations and movements broke your concentration, you tried to hold back but it was in vain.

"Gale," you moaned, your body jolting in response to the sudden sensation. His mouth warm and wet, surrounding you.

He certainly took his time with you, enjoying every moment, every moan that escaped your lips - before once again continuing the descent downward. With every touch you squirmed with wanton desire, you ached in every sense of the word for him and only him.

His trail of scorching kisses lead downward again, until finally his face was near your center. Nervousness and lust twisted low in your belly, he looked up at you with darkened and lidded eyes.

"I can't wait to taste you again," he groaned, pushing your panties to the side as he exposed your womanhood. Your slit was a dripping mess, a gasp caught in Gale's throat at the site of you, biting his lower lip. He lingered for a moment, watching you squirm nervously under his gaze. He was making you wait for it.

"P-please," you began to beg, before you could even formulate a thought to finish his tongue was pressed against your sex, dragging agonizingly slow to your cluster of nerves.

"G-gods, my Gods!" Your legs instantly went to clasp shut, but he pushed them apart once more. Resting his hands on your inner thighs, refusing to relent as his tongue lashed against your burning heat with methodical strokes.

Your body shook uncontrollably with each flick of his tongue, the burning lust that sat in your belly swelling in your thighs, then your calves, to the soles of your feet. You could not hold your moans in any longer, you were losing yourself entirely to him and carnal pleasures.

He kept the same tempo that made you squirm, but increased the pressure of his tongue with each stroke. Your moans and curses were growing louder as they carried on the night breeze.

He focused in on your bundle of nerves, lapping you up hungrily, he groaned into your sex - loving the taste of you.

You hardly had warning as you began to burst, hands wrapping into his hair with desperation as your hips bucked and twitched.

"Gale!" you screamed, unable to control your volume as you reached the threshold of your climax. He dug his hands into your hips, as your body tried to push away but he only pulled you closer, refusing to part his lips from you.

Squirming, sweat beading down your chest as a second wave of pleasure surged within you.

"Gale, I- I.. wait, Gale, G-gods - I'm cumm-" You wailed, as you burst into ecstasy once more. Once he was fully satisfied with his work he sat up on his knees, his chin slick with your wetness. Your body shook uncontrollably as you watched him slide your panties down your legs, gasping in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

"I've made such a mess of you," he groaned as he leaned in to kiss you. Your taste was sweet on his tongue.

He kissed you passionately and deep as you heard the shuffle of fabric for a few moments, then suddenly his bare length was prodding at your slit.

He placed a hand around the base of his shaft, guiding it eagerly along your wet heat, teasing you.

"You are enough to drive me to madness," his breath was hot against your lips. You shuddered as he continued to toy with his length at the entrance of your slit.

"Do you want it?" He looked into your gaze through lidded eyes, his body shaking with anticipation.

"More than anything," you begged, bucking your hips.

He focused for a moment on the angle, before slowly pressing his hips forward - you welcomed him eagerly as the tip slid in with no resistance. You were both shaking, nervous wrecks - naked before one another.

"Please, tell me if I hurt you in anyway." He asked softly.

Your hand cupped his cheek as you looked into his eyes and nodded, reassuring him.

Another agonizingly slow thrust and he was halfway in now, you could feel how it throbbed inside you. You leaned upward and kissed him passionately, as he thrust what remained to the hilt, burying himself in your depths. Both of you let out a moan in unison at the sensation. Finally, you could finally know what it was like to feel him inside of you.

He was at the end of your depth without even trying, he pulled back slightly then thrust forward once more. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering, drinking the moment in.

"You put the stars to shame, you are perfection," he groaned into your neck, his whole body continued to shake. The rhythm started slow at first as he allowed your slit time to get used to him, you were wrapped tightly around his sex.

"I love you," he whispered in your ear as the thrusting began to quicken, growing more ravenous with need.

"I love you, too," you moaned as you kissed the edges of his jaw. Your breasts dragged along his chest with every pump, his fingers coiling with yours and the sheets beneath.

He began to pant as his pace deepened, sharp and hungry thrusts pressing against your womb. You could see in his eyes he was trying desperately to hold back for your sake, his body begging for release.

He suddenly paused as he sat up on his knees again, still at the edges of your depth. Both of his hands grabbed your waist as he began once again, his eyes trailing over every inch of your skin. He began bucking harder, pleasure mixed with a twinge of pain as his size forced you to stretch in accommodation. His grasp on your waist firm and unwavering, holding you in place, making you take every inch of him.

You clasped a hand over your mouth as you couldn't hold back your moans any longer, each thrust forcing a sound out of you. His muscles flexing, covered in sweat as he once again bucked faster.

"Gods! You feeling amazing," he moaned loudly, head tilting back, never wavering in his pace.

You clung to the sheets, writhing, as that feeling of ecstasy was near boiling over. As if he could sense it himself, Gale spoke.

"Please, cum for me." He begged.

Your body couldn't resist, and for a third time you burst - your warmth shuddering and clenching him tighter as you came harder than you ever had.

The sensation of you pulsing and wrapped around him pushed him over the edge, he had reached his limit and could hold back no longer. He quickly pulled out, his hot seed shooting out and onto your stomach and chest, panting and moaning as his stiffness pulsated with every spurt.

He collapsed beside you, trembling and sweaty. He weakly waved his hand over you, and the sin he had splashed across your skin disappeared.

You both laid in a silent embrace for what felt like an eternity, exchanging candied words and soft kisses.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x female tav #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale romance #gale x reader #gale x you #tav x gale #baulders gate 3 #gale smut #smut #bg3 fanfiction #gale fanfiction #gale fanfic #female tav #bg3 tav

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ohwaitimthewriter · 1 year ago

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The Memory Keeper

Chapter 2: Puzzle

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : None? Maybe just reader who speaks some bad words towards herself.

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 2.6k

A/N : Here we go for chapter 2! Enjoy your reading 😁

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

“Echo, speak?”

Come to think of it, he wasn't just confused, he was almost… suspicious. You felt like you were going through a head scan, as his eyes were trying to decipher any logic to the words you'd just spouted. And you frowned, “echo”. It was a word you'd never heard before.

The saddle still resting on your arm was beginning to feel heavy, and the slight pain in the muscle supporting it caused your legs to turn around and place the saddle against the wall of your hut. After all, you always had to put away what you had taken out.

The movement almost startled the two apes who had rooted themselves to the ground, as if you'd been a child's doll with a recorded voice that had suddenly turned out to be very much alive. You would almost have smiled if you hadn't been so preoccupied with the sign the chimpanzee had just made with his hands as he watched you hobble home.

“Hurt,” he had signed to his friend.

At least, if your knowledge of sign language wasn't already rusty from all that time spent not using it. The next sign remained a mystery, but he seemed to be pointing at your hip. You cleared your throat quietly, your gaze again following the movement of your hands, which were busy setting up the saddle so as not to damage it against the wood. It was ridiculous enough for you to feel embarrassed that he had noticed your defective hip. And when you straightened up to walk towards them again, you put extra effort into trying to look more… supple.

“You can't stay here.” you simply said.

And their eyes fell on you again as if you'd just said an offence. Yet you hadn't put much effort into your voice. It had seemed rather monotonous, without any particular nuance, and after all, they were standing on your land. Your request certainly wasn't as off-the-wall as their dumbfounded expressions claimed.

�� Need... a horse. ”

The chimpanzee had insisted, his voice huskier than the first sentence he'd addressed to you. Was he trying to force his decision to take your horse on you? You narrowed your eyes again. If so, he had a lot of nerve.

However, you pointed south again.

“South, past the river. You emphasized, as if he hadn't heard you the first time. “Now go.”

You watched him grit his teeth before you saw even the shadow of his fangs. You could see the frustration in his eyes, and even though you sensed that an emergency was tormenting his stomach, you certainly weren't going to give up your horse. Having to look for another one wasn't going to happen for at least 5 rounds of the 12 categories of lists that hung on your living room wall. Staying that long without a horse would be very problematic, and with your hip, you always needed a horse to help you catch another.

As far as you were concerned, the discussion was over and silence fell again in the small clearing that served as your garden. There was a lot to do today, and the apes' intervention had only delayed your bedtime tonight.

The good thing was that you wouldn't need to hear more of your voice today. Your vocal cords were even tired from talking so much. It had been a long time… since you'd spoken so much. In fact, your hand was massaging the base of your neck just below your chin, trying to relax the muscles that hadn't worked so hard for… well, for a long time.

You were about to leave them to their activities, again listing in your head yours that awaited you when the orangutan hooted softly to get your attention.

“Maybe… we can help?” He offered, all the while surprising his friend who suddenly seemed to want to stop him at all costs, no matter what the latter had in mind.

Help with what? you asked yourself, without verbalizing it. You shook your head to prevent any other thought from interfering with your activities and your eyes fell on the rosebush, a few steps from where you stood. The rose petals had fallen because of the storm.

You fetched the petal jar and listened deafly to Raka, who seemed to have a very specific idea in mind. In fact, he had undertaken to follow your footsteps to the rosebush.

“Help… in exchange for the horse?” he explained.

Clever. And you rolled your eyes at your own thought. You delicately picked up the petals and slipped them one by one into the jar.

“I don't need any help.”

You formidably ignored the two apes who seemed to be sharing a conversation intrinsically involved in exchanges of glances and, occasionally, signs that were meant to be discreet. As if you were able to see what was going on behind your back. After all, you were a talking echo, so obviously anything was possible.

You seemed to give particular importance to each petal you slipped into the pot, and in fact, you paid no attention to the silent conversation going on behind you.

“There's no time to help.” The chimpanzee began. “We need a horse, human has one.” “Echo doesn't want to.” “ We need to persuade.”

The chimpanzee paused before starting again.

“Hurt. Echo won't agree.”

Raka watched you for a moment. On your knees, you were taking care of each petal, you could simply grab a good handful of them and put them without batting an eyelid in that glass jar you were holding, but no, you were taking them delicately, one by one, as if they were the most precious thing in the world. Then he signed.

“ Petals are important, it seems. ” “Whatever,” the chimp retorted, clearly annoyed by this situation that seemed beyond his control. “Human important to Caesar so if petals important to human, important to Caesar too.”

The chimpanzee almost rolled his eyes. Raka had given him a summary of who Caesar was, but in his eyes, Caesar was just the distant shadow of a mountain that had now vanished.

You froze as the orangutan's hand gently grasped a petal and gently placed it in your jar. What was he doing? You gave him a puzzled look and he pointed to the jar full of petals.

“Important…?” he asked.

Why had he asked? And why was your breathing becoming more erratic? Your lungs were progressively demanding more oxygen and you could almost feel your bronchial tubes dilating desperately to catch the slightest oxygen atom that would pass through the air you were breathing in.

A word, a simple word, spoken softly because he'd understood and swallowing had been a trial of strength. You could still feel your throat rolling with difficulty even though you'd already swallowed your saliva, and before your lungs decided to run a losing race, you suddenly closed the jar before standing up straight on your legs.

A long inhalation and exhalation later, you remembered your list. The petals could wait. A look devoid of intent came over the two apes as they scrutinized you, trying to solve a puzzle they'd never been trained to solve.

That expressionless, almost glassy gaze that Noa found hard to read despite his unsuccessful attempts to uncover your true motives. A look that seemed so… far away. The Echos he'd crossed paths with didn't have that look. It didn't make sense. You knew how to talk. You'd trained your horse. The land around you was cultivated and healthy. There was no logic to what he read in that inexpressive gaze. But he hadn't had time to examine further what was deep in your eyes; you'd already gone back to whatever it was you were doing.

Raka turned to him and began to sign.

“ Human complicated. Perhaps we should wait a little.”

Noa let out a snort. Waiting seemed pointless. This Echo was lost.

“No time. Tonight, when she's asleep, we'll take her horse and leave.” Noa signed in turn, still irritated that all this was taking so long.

Raka scoffed, almost shocked at his words.

“ Show mercy. Without her horse, maybe she won't be able to feed herself.” He paused for a moment, then continued thoughtfully. “She's limping. Maybe it's because of the apples you left outside her door.”

Touché. Still, your fall hadn't seemed very impressive, but maybe it was enough for an Echo to get hurt.

“What do you want to do?” He asked under his breath. “Wait. She's busy. We'll wait and when she's done, we'll talk and tell the truth.”

Noa groaned at this but didn't protest further. When Raka had made up his mind, it was hard to change it. Little did they know, however, that you were never done with these lists.

-------------

Watching you evolve in your environment was somehow endearing. You jumped from one activity to the next without ever looking at the position of the sun, never stopping to smell the scents the wind brought your way.

Your movements were millimeterized, no time was wasted or spoiled. Even tasks that required a little more physical effort, such as picking an apple from the tree behind your house, you seemed to know exactly where to push your horse's hooves so that he would place himself exactly under the targeted branch. You knew where to place your hands on his back and exactly how much pressure to exert on your legs to pull yourself up onto your horse. Noa watched you wobble on his back as you positioned your bare feet in strategic places that would keep you more or less balanced and able to pick that apple. He noticed it too at that precise moment. Your hip was giving you trouble keeping your balance. It seemed more… stiff. As if something was holding it to your pelvis and preventing it from moving freely. Your left hip made up for this lack of flexibility, giving the impression that your pelvis was shaking on one side only.

You ride down and your horse headbutted you. You immediately held out the apple and the animal tried to take a bite. You closed your hand over the base of the apple and the horse had to shake his head harder to detach a piece, which it chewed peacefully, blowing through its nostrils.

A smile.

Noa straightened up and intensified his contemplation. Why had you smiled? He'd been watching you for hours now, waiting for the slightest opportunity to get what he wanted all along, and not once had you smiled.

Echo didn't smile when you saw him and Raka setting up a small fire at the edge of the clearing.

Echo didn't smile when you pulled up the tall grass around your tomato plants.

Echo didn't smile when you washed your hands with water from a flask.

Echo didn't smile when you ate some berries.

And your smile faded the instant your eyes landed on him again, finding that emotionless gaze he'd never stopped observing. Echo would smile at a horse having trouble biting into an apple, but not at apes.

Did that mean you had an animosity towards apes?

No. It didn't make sense because it meant you also had animosity towards those rose petals that seemed so important. And then, even though you'd asked them to leave, you hadn't tried to chase them away, nor had you become angry.

In fact, could you really get angry? You seemed so… empty of emotion.

But you had smiled at your horse. It had even come up to your eyes for a brief moment, and Noa had thought he saw even a flicker of light in your eyes before it faded into oblivion.

A puzzle.

Raka sat down beside him and pointed at Echo with his hand.

“Still busy?” He said without bothering to sign. “ Still.”

He grumbled at that.

“Why was Caesar so interested in Echo?” Noa asked him, trying to find a missing piece to the puzzle in front of him.

Raka simply shrugged. Tales didn't tell the whole story, and there was never more information than the tales could give.

“I heard some humans raised him.” Raka replied.

Noa huffed at this, not wanting to believe it. And he hadn't noticed that you'd gotten close to them in your wandering, doing all sorts of things to keep yourself busy.

“He must not have been having much fun.” Noa replied sarcastically, glancing at you as you trimmed your rosebush with your bare hands.

He didn't know if you'd heard him at the time - you seemed too focused on your task to hear or see anything else - and yet, by sheer coincidence, he heard you hissing, drawing his gaze back to you.

What a dummy. You gently withdrew the thorn you'd just stuck in your finger. Probably from carelessness. You brought your finger to your mouth to remove the small trickle of blood that had run down and after a few seconds of rubbing the spot where the thorn had stuck, your skin healed.

Useful.

That was always what you told yourself when something like this happened. A scratch? You'd blink and it would disappear. A partial cut? You'd fetch some water and by the time you'd closed the flask, it would be gone. You were no longer afraid of superficial wounds. They still hurt, of course, but you didn't need to worry about them. They always healed.

You looked up at the sky for the first time in the day. The sun was already on its way down. There wasn't much time left before nightfall and you still had to go to the river to catch a fish, fill your bottles with fresh water and wash up.

But they were still there.

And your horse had no problem grazing with theirs. Somehow, seeing him graze with a friend made you happy.

You let out a long sigh. You'd hoped they'd leave. You'd hoped they'd get bored. Or that the urgent matter that had led them to want to take your horse would catch up with them and they'd be forced to leave. But they were obviously determined.

You sighed again.

“What a bother,” you muttered, grabbing your horse's halter.

You had to get to the river and you'd get there.

-------------

Neither of them had seen you leave, partly because Raka had monopolized Noa's attention, preventing him from keeping an eye on you. Both had realized your absence when your horse gave a happy snort at having returned to its little clearing.

Perched on your horse, you were still doubtful. Why had you brought back three of them? They were perfectly capable of feeding themselves, so why, just as you were about to leave the river, had you decided to catch two more fish? It wasn't as if they were suddenly going to leave your clearing when you offered them something to eat. They weren't there for that. They were there for a horse. Your horse.

You felt like hitting your head repeatedly with your hand. It didn't make sense. A fish for the peace of seeing them go? It didn't make sense, just like the pile of apples in exchange for your horse. Maybe if you really gave in to this urge, you'd get some sense into that brain that's been asleep for so long it was making you do absurd things. But you didn't. And you asked your horse to move towards them before dismounting in front of their inquisitive eyes.

Without a word, you removed the bag from your horse's saddle and took out the two fish.

Stupid.

You set them down one by one in front of them.

Offering them food will only encourage them to stay.

You closed the bag and tied it to your saddle again.

Stupid.

Your glassy gaze landed on them before muttering a “eat... well”.

Now you're sure to see them off in the morning, well done you dummy.

And you walked away, leading your horse back to your hut, sincerely hoping to see them off in the morning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tags list (I hope it will tag you properly!): @callsignwidow @youdontknowe @katzykat @koshi-sama

#planet of the apes #noa x human reader #planet of the apes x reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #noa x reader #noa pota #pota #kotpota

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parismemes · 11 months ago

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SENTENCE STARTERS FROM EPIC: THE MUSICAL - THE WISDOM SAGA

LEGENDARY

"It's just me, myself and I."

"I'm stuck with your stories, but no clue who you are."

"Come and give me a sign."

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?"

"I know life and fate are scary, but I wanna be legendary."

"There are strangers in our halls."

"It's not much longer we can stall."

"They're getting impatient. Dangerous, too."

"I would fight them if I was half as strong as you."

"Somebody help me!"

"Come and give me the strength."

"Can I do whatever it takes to keep my mom safe?"

"Where is he?"

"Give me a chance. A single opportunity."

"Don't you dare call my mother a tramp!"

"What'cha gonna do about it, champ?"

LITTLE WOLF

"Wanna entertain me?"

"Let's see how you take this."

"You've made your worst mistake here."

"You'll have run out of bones to break when you and I are through."

"I'll teach you all the lessons your daddy never could."

"This cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good."

"Don't you know it's fight or fly?"

"Run away before you die."

"Need some help?"

"What's going on here?"

"I suggest you fight back."

"Uppercut him. Now."

"Woah, that is so sick!"

"Let's try this again."

"I've no respect for bullies."

"Let's teach this dog a lesson in front of all his kind."

"One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined."

"Show them that you've got some bite."

"Don't go down without a fight!"

"...Maybe I pushed you a bit too hard."

"Go back and cry in your corner."

"Tell me why you came to my aid."

WE'LL BE FINE

"I had a friend before, and he was a lot like you."

"Maybe, if I'd made a different call..."

"I don't know who your friend is."

"My time with you's been splendid."

"I got in a fight and I didn't die!"

"I've never felt strong before."

"You're my friend, I couldn't ask for more."

"Maybe it's time that you lend a hand."

"If not his friend, then mine."

"Maybe to fall is to learn one way."

"Maybe it's all gonna turn out great."

"I know we'll be fine."

"I know it's light you'll find."

"You're a good kid."

LOVE IN PARADISE

"Old friend, it's been ten years since I last saw you."

"Let's see where you've been."

"Where did you go?"

"Morning, sleepyhead! You've been resting for a while."

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

"I've got all you could want here!"

"Just you and me, my dear."

"Soon into bed we'll climb, and spend our time..."

"I'm not your man."

"I'm what you want."

"From here on out, you're mine."

"Hell no, I could kill you where you stand!"

"Last I checked, goddesses can't die."

"We've got all we could want here."

"No one can come or go."

"I don't belong here!"

"There's something wrong here."

"Time can take a heavy toll."

"All I hear are screams."

"Get away from the ledge."

"You don't know what I've gone through."

"You don't know what I've sacrificed."

"Come back inside, dear."

"Let me close my eyes."

"I'll stay inside your heart."

"Life would be so much worse if you had died."

"Stay in my open arms."

"He needs my help."

GOD GAMES

"Rarely do I ask for favors."

"Divine intervention; is that what you seek?"

"You're playing with thunder for a man full of shame."

"Why not make it a game?"

"Bring it."

"We all know I'm a fan of catchy songs."

"All he did was reimburse them."

"Trust is not given, it's forged."

"Why should I give him my support?"

"If you make the right decision, he can still build a future with those who miss him."

"He was busy fighting."

"Let him feel the pain that his mother felt and rot."

"Please reconsider this!"

"Really, ___, these old tricks?"

"What kind of sick coward holds back his power?"

"Tell your lover that a broken heart can mend!"

"To get back to his homestead, he'll make everybody bleed."

"He's got the mind of a genius."

"I've played your game and won!"

"You dare to defy me?"

"No one beats me."

"Bring her through the wringer."

"Is she dead?"

"Let him go, please!"

#rp memes #rp meme #ask memes #ask meme #ask game #sentence starters

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jessejaredstories · 2 years ago

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Relationship Changes

Tony and Salma were, for the most part, your typical Mexican American couple. They had first met at new student orientation when they were placed in the same group together. The two instantly hit it off. They were best friends for their first two years of college until Tony finally asked her out the summer before their junior year. They started dating and from there the rest was history. Tony and Salma just celebrated their five year anniversary too! They were truly as happy as could be.

However, this was only how it looked on the outside. The truth was that their “perfect” relationship was nothing but a facade. Behind closed doors laid a relationship full of nothing but anger, fighting, and headaches. While every relationship was bound to have their ups and downs, Tony and Salma’s relationship only seemed to be going down lately. But even though they were both willing to put in the work to save the relationship, nothing seemed to be working. Not even several sessions of couples therapy could help! That special spark they had when they first dated was gone, and although Tony wasn’t planning on going anywhere, Salma had already decided she would be breaking it off very soon. After all, if all they did was fight nowadays, splitting up would be the best option for both of them.

One day, after going out to brunch together, Tony and Salma were sitting quietly in the car as Tony drove back to their apartament. Another date had gone to shit. Snide remarks and passive aggression were the only things on the menu that day. As expected, that made for an awkward car ride back home full of quiet tension between the two lovebirds.

Once Tony pulled up into the parking garage, Salma stormed out of the car without delay. Tony hopped out after her.

“Where are you going!?” Tony called out.

“To shower! You got a problem with that too or what!?” Salma shouted back.

“Aren’t we gonna talk about what happened at the cafe today first!?”

“Why? So you can just ignore everything I have to say again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you actually had something nice to say for once! All you did is bitch about everything!!”

That last remark made Salma stop right in her tracks. She then turned around with eyebrows furrowed and a face full of disbelief.

“I’M the one that bitches about everything!?”

“YES! Everything I do, you gotta find a problem with it!!”

“Cuz you don’t do anything!! And even when you do, you do it only because I tell you to, not because you want to!”

The two kept bickering back and forth for another minute or so before Salma finally had enough and walked away. Tony let out a heavy sigh as he slammed his car door shut, taking some of his frustration out on the vehicle. He was at his wits’ end trying to figure out how to save his relationship. It seemed like no matter what he said or did, it just wasn’t enough anymore. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse! Unable to come up with anything, Tony looked up at the sky and wondered if breaking up was really the only option left. He hated the thought, but without some type of divine intervention, he knew they were only going to get worse for them the longer it goes on.

Meanwhile, Salma had just hopped into the shower. She breathed in and out as she let the warm water hit her nude body, letting the water melt away any tension in her body. Salma truly believed Tony was the one for her, but it was pretty clear that just wasn’t true. She frowned, but she did not cry. She already cried everything she had, now she was just left with the bitter indifference. Although she was ready to break it off, a part of her secretly wished they could somehow find a way to stay together. Salma wasn’t sure what exactly that miracle solution would’ve entailed. She perished the thought, then proceeded to wash her hair.

But while both Tony and Salma were busy trying to calm down after their latest fight, their wishes did not go unheard. Because they both expressed wanting to stay together, the universe went to work making a new reality where they could happily stay together.

The changes in reality began with Salma. As she was about to finish her shower, she began to feel a strange yet strong warmness radiating within her body. In an effort to make it stop, she tried turning the shower faucet to cold, but that did nothing. The warmness grew stronger. Her body began to ache, and she held her hands against the aching parts of her body to apply pressure.

“Why am I so hot all of a sudden…?” Salma questioned. As soon as she finished that sentence, the changes began.

Salma kneeled over as the body aches grew more intense. She felt the pain in her breasts the most. Salma cupped her breasts with her hands. She could literally feel as her tiddies miraculously shrunk in size! She could also feel tiny hairs start sprouting around her nipples. Within seconds, her breasts had transformed into a man’s chest with a set of firm, well toned pecs— Pecs that looked exactly like Tony’s.

The transformation continued throughout Salma’s body. All the body hair she meticulously kept shaved grew right back in. She could feel the tiny pricks on her skin as the hair grew. Arm hair, leg hair, armpit and even pubic hair all grew right in until she possessed bushes of black hair everywhere. But that wasn’t all, she also grew a well-groomed mustache and beard just like her boyfriend’s goatee. Her once long, flowing hair receded until she had a buzzcut to match Tony’s hairstyle.

Her body then began thickening with muscle as her body started pumping out testosterone instead of estrogen. She soon lost her curvy, womanly figure and instead gained her boyfriend’s manly, athletic build. And while Salma’s body took on muscle mass, the new hormones began changing her genitalia too. Salma could not suppress her moans as the warm sensations overtook her vagina. Her clit stretched and projected outwards while her ovaries transformed into a pair of hairy balls. They then flopped out of her pussy while her clit finished morphing itself to look like a dick. Everything grew and transformed until Salma possessed an identical set of cock and balls to Tony’s.

“Ohhh fuck… What the fuck is happening to me…” Salma said in between moans, not noticing that her voice had dropped several pitches in tone as her Adam’s apple grew in. The warm sensations of body transformation left her in a state of arousal. Perhaps if it was the testosterone talking, but Salma found herself wanting to fuck something with her cock as she finished becoming Tony. “He” hopped out of the shower and admired his body in the mirror with a cocky smirk on his face, just like Tony would’ve done.

While Salma was busy in the shower, Tony was busy in their shared bedroom. He eventually came inside after pacing around the parking lot. But needing a way to relieve some stress himself, Tony turned to rubbing one out while watching one of his favorite videos. “Couple fuck in public at Walmart!” That video was his number one favorite. Although with how often he had been watching it lately, Salma would’ve killed him if she found out he turned to videos to get off.

“Nrghhh, fuck yeah! Just like that…!” Tony said with bated breath. Sounds of fapping filled the room as he got closer and closer to finishing. However, just before he could climax, his own transformation started.

A heat flash hit Tony like a dumpster truck. He got red in the face and began sweating buckets because of it, but the sudden warmth wasn't enough to deter him from getting his rocks off. Instead, he started stroking his already leaking cock even faster while groaning and grunting sensually even louder than before. While Tony was too busy jerking off to notice, his body began going through a transformation of its own.

Any body and facial hair Tony had had rescinded back into his pores, leaving him perfectly smooth all over. As his body started producing more estrogen, all of his well-earned muscles grew softer and softer until they were gone. His pecs ballooned outward and his nipples grew in size until he had a nice, perky set of tits. Tony's body then grew more curvy and voluptuous until he had the exact same hourglass figure Salma had.

"Arghh... oh fuck..." Tony groaned. His heavy, cum-filled balls were bouncing furiously as he kept stroking his cock. He was oblivious to the fact that every guttural grunt he let out was growing increasingly higher pitched. Soon enough, his manish groans had turned into womanly moans too.

"Ughhh... fuck yeahh... ohh yeah...! Oh my God ahhh ohhh yeahh...!!"

Tony was getting closer and closer to finishing. He closed his eyes and focused solely on getting off. But then his cock and balls started sinking back into his body. Within seconds, his genitalia had transformed into a pussy, moist and wet from Tony masturbating. Obviously without a dick, Tony couldn't stroke himself off anymore. So instead, he turned to fingering himself. Just like Salma, Tony had become a picture perfect copy of his girlfriend and all without him noticing.

"Salma" filled the room with her loud moans and wet macaroni noises while she kept fingering her new coochie. Then, out of nowhere, Tony came into the room dressed in nothing but a white towel. He took one look at his naked girlfriend, smirked, then dropped the towel to reveal his already growing erection. Salma beckoned him by biting her lip and opening her legs wide. Then without hesitation, Tony rushed in and joined her on the bed. He kissed her while he stuck his rock hard cock inside of her. She matched his energy, and the two proceeded to fuck until they both came about an hour later.

They fucked passionately, just like they did back when they first started dancing. Although Tony and Salma had transformed into one another on both a physical and mental level, they were lucky enough to retain their original feelings and memories. It was because of that sudden literal change in perspective that the two lovebirds were able to understand where the other was coming from. They were finally able to sort out their issues and continued being the lovey dovey couple both in front of company as well as behind closed doors.

And although the new Tony and Salma have no idea why they switched bodies the way they did, they learned to just forget about it and move on. After all, they were both able to perfectly simulate into their new identities without a problem. Nowadays, the only major problem they have is how to plan a big wedding. Cheers to newly engaged "Tony" and "Salma"!

#male transformation #female transformation

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freshbakedbreadstick · 2 years ago

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No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Four

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: Old habits (of fleeing) die hard unless, of course, you're forced to face things rather than running from them.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, Al-Anon, addiction, interventions.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hi besties ! ! ! ! As promised, here’s the next chapter for you all, earlier than planned as a sorry for taking so long ! Life is getting hectic and I'm currently preparing to move into my dorm for this coming school year, hence why I couldn't update with the last chapter earlier . I transferred to a different university than the one I was originally going to so a lot of things are new to me again, but I'm still excited ! ! ! Anyways, get your happy puppy and kitty pictures to look at after this chapter and i hope you all have a wonderful day and wonderful read <3

EDIT: Changed the name used for an added side character to avoid confusion with the name of a character from the show, sorry to those who are named Amanda as that's the name i used as a replacement (:

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic

Chapter Three / Masterlist / Chapter Five

Your fingers shook around the steering wheel as you pressed on the accelerator harder, making the engine of your old car rumble louder in your ears. It wasn’t loud enough to drown the loud and rapid heartbeat in your ears though.

Luckily for you, it was green light after green light.

You raced home, expecting to come home to a silent house with nobody there to try and talk you out of your decision. After all, it was a weekday and it was past noon, almost everyone in Chicago was either working or in school.

“Pack then leave, pack then leave, pack then leave…” you mumbled to yourself, eyes darting back and forth as you switched lanes to weave in and out of traffic. You were met with angry yells and annoyed honks as you did so, but it didn’t matter to you. You needed to get home.

Your stuff was shoved in the back seat, half spilled from both you throwing it inside and your reckless driving. After you had the argument with everyone at The Beef, you stormed inside to silently grab your things from your locker and go. Neither Richie, Carmy, nor Sugar said a word to you as you did so, but Tina was the first to call out your name and try to calm you down. She had definitely heard everything that went down outside, those walls were absolutely not sound proof.

“What the fuck does Carmy know anyways. He’s the one who refused to come back or even reach out at all when Mikey… fucking hypocrite,” You mumbled to yourself, eyes narrowing and your hand gripping the steering wheel until your fingers hurt.

Tina, however, anxiously worked at her station, half glancing over to you and half working on her task in the kitchen. You knew that she was split between wanting to reach out to you and wanting to keep going with her work, but you would never make her or anyone else choose, so you chose for her by ignoring her and leaving.

She and everyone else are better off without you anyways.

The tires of your car screeched as you swerved into the empty driveway.

“Fuck yes…” you whispered to yourself, skin sweaty as you shoved yourself out of your car. No cars in the driveway means an empty house. You were in the clear.

As you approached the front door, house keys already in hand, you mumbled out plans to yourself, “Maybe Florida? It’s probably rainy and humid this time of year but if it means getting away from here, I can deal with it…”

The front door swung open before you could finish unlocking it, making you jump and gasp out as you came face to face with your mom.

“Sweetie? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why do you look ill?” You mom rushed out, eyes wide and confused.

“I'm fine Mom but I have to go.” You rushed out, pushing past her to run to the stairs. Your mom let out an unintelligible string of words as you started running to your room, heart pounding as it seemed like your once “foolproof” plan was starting to unravel.

“Fucking fuck fuck fuck shit!” You mumbled to yourself, spitting out the words harshly as you barged into your room and began pushing things into the boxes and bags you hadn’t yet unpacked.

In your rush to pack, you didn’t hear your mom’s footsteps getting closer nor did you hear what she was saying.

"Honey, how about you slow down for a second and take a deep breath?" She said, sounding exasperated as she pushed herself over the threshold and into your room.

"Not now mom," You replied, hissing for a brief second as you cut your finger on a sharp edge of a box before continuing to pack.

"Seriously, I think you should stop for a second and then we can do whatever it is that you want to do, okay?"

This made you pause.

"...what?" You blinked, slowly turning to your Mom.

She smiled at you, but the corners of her eyes didn't crinkle as she did so. You scanned her body, noticing the way her body language indicated that she was fully open and not at all anxious.

You opened your mouth briefly, before shutting it and complying with her ask. You breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7 seconds, and let it go for 8 seconds. In front of you, your Mom beamed at you, but again you noticed how her eyes never once left yours and how they didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did.

"Let me help you pack, okay?" She said, voice calm.

You watched as she moved forward and grabbed a box already full of your stuff before grabbing a smaller box. You continued to watch and followed her as she went down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door to your car.

As she placed the box in the car, you turned and bolted. Your feet thumped loudly as you went back up the stairs and you felt your shirt cling onto your sweaty skin. Something was up, you just knew it, and you needed to find out what it was before it was too late.

But in this moment, the memory of your conversation at The Beef earlier replayed in your head for the 6th time that hour, and your panic settled in once again.

With two boxes in hand, you started to leave your room to go to the front door, passing your mom who didn't so much as glance at you. Your eyes followed her frame, noting no change in her calm demeanor.

It frightened you immensely.

The pit in your stomach gnawed at you as you placed the boxes in the trunk, making you feel like you were going to throw up and pass out at the same time. When you left Mikey's funeral in a rush, your parents followed you. You had insisted on going in separate cars, convincing them that being alone in your car would help you prepare yourself before you went into the funeral home. But they still followed you in their own car, practically tailgating you as you ran through red lights to get home.

You let out a shaky breath, remembering the way your mother sobbed and tried convincing you not to leave as you packed your car with the few things you were willing to take. Your father tried reasoning with you, eyes filled with tears and voice shaky but stern as he pleaded you to think your decision through. They tried everything, from promising you a vacation to get your mind off everything to threatening you with involuntary inpatient services. But nothing worked, so all they could do was run down the block, following your car as you took off, determined to seek refuge out West.

Your mom walked around you, placing more boxes in the car with a loud clunk, taking you out of your thoughts. Your head whipped around to see her organizing your boxes.

"There's a couple more things up in your room but I wasn't sure if you wanted to take them." She said, a small smile appearing on her face as she looked over her shoulder at you.

Your eyebrows creased and your chest heaved, feeling disturbed by her overall calm attitude to this situation. She was not at all acting like the way she did the first time, which felt odd considering that you were planning on doing the same exact thing as you did before. You would even dare say that you felt like she was happy you were leaving.

"Uhm… okay," and with that you took a couple careful steps back to watch her before turning to go back inside.

'What the fuck is going on?!' You thought to yourself, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to chew on it as you went up the stairs.

Sure enough, there were some things left in your room aside from the boxes labeled 'The Beef' that you were certainly not going to take. But before you could decide, the sinking feeling hit you.

Why was your mom home? She should've been at work at this time. While she did take time off to spend with you when you first came home, she had already returned to work a couple days ago. Why did she not continue to question why you were home? You did leave a message explaining where you were before you left so she knew that and she also knew that you planned to stay at The Beef the whole day, so she would probably be confused as to why you came home early and in a rush. Additionally, she seemed okay with your decision to leave which was nothing like her previous attitude. And why the hell was she so calm?!

Then, it clicked.

Your throat dried up.

Someone must have told her and now she is planning something.

You raced down the stairs, hands clammy as you gripped onto the stair railing to launch yourself forward. The only person you knew that would have her number and would be willing to reach out to her about something like this was Sugar. Your legs buckled as you rushed out front, only to see your Mom calmly waiting for you.

"Oh honey, don't forget your wallet and charger-" She said, perking up when she saw you.

"What are you planning?" You blurted out, interrupting her.

Your mom furrowed her brows and tilted her head, "What do you mean?"

"Why are you letting me go? You're not screaming or yelling and just letting me do this?"

You mom blinked at you, unmoving. It was eerie to see her not react to what you were saying.

After some silence, your mom spoke up, "You're an adult and I respect every decision you will make, regardless if I agree with it or not."

Your eyes narrowed. Although this didn't seem very far off when it came to the parenting philosophy they raised you with, something about this still made you feel alarmed.

"How about we stop for ice cream at that creamery we love before you go?"

There's the catch.

You visibly tensed your body, "Okay…"

Something was going to happen to you once you got there, you just knew it, but you were going to make a plan and get the hell out of there.

With a smile, your mom walked to the passenger's seat of the car, "Go lock up for me, okay? I have my purse in the car already."

You nodded slowly, jaw locked as you took small steps to the front door. When you finally sat down in the driver's seat, your mom was humming to herself and messing with her hair in the mirror.

"You're planning something," you announced again, half mumbling.

Your mom briefly stopped humming to chuckle and shake her head before continuing, seemingly unphased by the way you accused her. But this nagging feeling would not go away, so you did all you could do in that moment: drive.

You sat on the bench outside of the small old creamery, leg bouncing rapidly. You've been going there with your parents since you were a kid, something that you also included Mikey, Carmy, Richie, and Natalie in when they could join you. You would sometimes sneak away after school together or go after football games, right before it would close at midnight. And here you were, one last time, before you would go to… Florida.

The sweet cream of the ice cream cone you had in your hand made you hum as you licked it, the flavor exploding over your tongue. It was delectable, after all you got your favorite flavor.

You were going to miss it.

You mom walked over to the table you sat on, holding her own cup of butterscotch ice cream, before sitting down to join you. The sun was warm and the sky was a bright blue. The overall happy atmosphere of the day didn't seem to quell whatsoever.

You eyed her carefully for a second but only saw her indulging in her own ice cream. So you looked away and started to plan your trip to… Florida.

You decided that first, you would drop your mom off at home and tell her what you wanted to say to dad. Then, you would drive to the nearest gas station and fuel up on both gasoline and snacks, maybe get a slurpee from 7/11, and start driving towards St. Louis. You could sleep in your car for the night at a Walmart and then drive to Atlanta the next day. After that, just head straight to Florida, home free!

Your mom cleared your throat to get your attention, making you whip your head around to face her.

"Oh sweetie, do you mind if I go next door? We got a new tax guy and his office is just next door. I need to drop off some papers so that he can finish prepping our file." As if like magic, your mom pulled out some stapled papers from her purse.

"When did we get a new tax guy?"

"Last month, your father wanted to change from using H&R Block because of all the problems we had with them last year so we found this new guy."

You glanced at her, finding her eating her ice cream and looking at you; not a concern or worry was written on her face. Her story did seem to add up, your parents did complain about their tax people so this didn’t seem suspicious. So you, cautiously, nodded.

She got up and began to walk down the sidewalk, "You can join me if you would like."

You pursed your lips and took the risk, "Uh… sure."

The request seemed simple and innocent enough, making your anxiety ease for a second. She might have not gone to work because she had errands to do and the paperwork she held under her arm seemed legit. And as you walked into the building and headed towards the office at the end of the hall, everything actually seemed okay. Maybe she did respect your decision and just wanted to spend some time with you before you left.

"Give me a second," Your mom said, pausing.

You crashed into her back, heart racing again as she stopped. But all she did was hand you the papers and turn to walk over to the trash can.

"Give me your trash," she said, reaching out for you to give her your dirty napkins.

Complying, you watched her throw the trash away before walking back to you, nodding for you to walk through the door in front of you.

Inside was a large, empty office. It was bright with the grayish white walls and unfinished concrete floors projecting the light from the large windows everywhere. It made you squint as you moved blindly forward.

The door behind you clicked at the same time that you blinked, eyes adjusting. There was a small circle of chairs in front of you, some occupied by a few people while others were empty. A couple people were hanging out by what looked to be a snack table and another person was standing by someone, chatting. But when you came in, they all paused to turn to you.

This was what she was planning.

Someone in a cardigan and with a gentle smile began approaching you and beside you your mom began to speak, "Sweetie, this is for the best…"

But her voice faded from your mind as your heavy breaths and fast heartbeat overwhelmed you. You whipped around, stumbling from the speed in which you did so, and crashed into the chest of a tall person who was blocking the door.

You heaved a breath.

Behind you, the person in the cardigan spoke, "Hi, I understand this might be confusing and overwhelming but your mom brought you here because she cares about you and your well being. My name is Amanda and I'm more than happy to answer all your questions."

"What the fuck is this? Is this an intervention? What am I doing here? Why am I here? Mom, why did you take me here?" You rushed out, feeling the room spin and your body get cold as you quickly glanced around the room.

In an instant, the calm neutral face your mom had fell into one of concern, with her eyes glossy and eyebrows pressed together, "This is an Al-Anon meeting sweetheart and it's for the best, okay? Just one meeting and then we can go home, alright?"

Your legs gave out on you. As you collapsed onto the floor, your vision blurred but you could make out the way your mom screamed and rushed forward to grab you. Amanda looked concerned but concentrated, as if she knew exactly what to do, when she got down onto her knees to help you. You could also feel some heavy hands grab onto your shoulders behind you as your vision faded to black.

When you regained consciousness, you felt the wind gently caress your cheeks as it blew by. It felt nice, not feeling sweaty and flushed. But as you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself leaning on your mom, half laid on a bench, outside a building you had no idea about.

“Hey honey, are you feeling ok?” Your mom said, instantly hugging you against her body as she noticed you beginning to stir.

“Yea… yea… I'm fine,” you said, your words coming out slurred as you brought yourself up to sit.

“How are you feeling?” A voice said, behind you and your mom.

Everything came rushing back as you recognized this voice as Amanda’s voice.

You stumbled up, making your mom gasp and jump up from her seat. Amanda placed a hand on your mom’s forearm, gently smiling at her.

“What do you want from me?!” you yelled, feeling anger seep into your skin as soon as you got up and faced her.

Amanda looked at you, “We are not here to hurt you, take you away, or anything. Your mom brought you here to give you a safe space to talk about Mikey.”

“I don’t need to talk about SHIT!” You heaved, making your mom look away from her, desperately trying to conceal her own anger.

“We care about you and we believe that you should try this out, just once. You are free to leave if you don’t want to, okay?” Amanda continued, voice soft.

It made your blood boil.

With fists clenched, you glared at your mom, “You did all of this, just to trick me into coming here?”

Your mom continued to look away, refusing to look at you. You seethed.

“You can’t even look at me or respond to me?”

Amanda shook her head, “I understand your feeling upset and confused right now, considering how your mom brought you here, but your mom only has the best intentions for you in mind. Please, come inside. You don’t have to share anything with the group or even sit with the group. You can stand in the back with your mom and share whenever you would like.”

With a roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms.

Softly, your mom said your name, “I never expected myself to be a perfect mom, but was willing to die trying just for you. Both your father and I made a pact to do everything we could in order to make sure you had the best life you could live. As you got older and became your own person, it was hard to watch you make mistakes but we knew when to step in and guide you, and when to step back,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before continuing, “And watching you be with Mikey, to be happy, was a joy in the beginning… until we saw the cracks forming in your relationship. We did everything we could to help you but nothing worked. I understand you loved him… but sweetie… his addiction hurt you too.”

“Mikey never hurt me!!” you yelled, not even feeling the tears rushing out, “He never once laid a hand on me! He never brought me around that stuff! He never wanted me to suffer!”

“He was unstable!” your mom sobbed, doubling over as the dam of emotions broke for her.

Amanda gently gripped her arms, holding her up. She stared at you with a pained but apologetic expression.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to addiction. I lost my father when I was 16. I was such a daddy’s girl growing up, so losing him was bad but discovering why I lost him only hours after I did made it worse,” Amanda said, filling the air with something other than cries and sobs.

You stifled your cries, making them come out as jagged breaths and rough sniffs that made your throat tighten. But you stood your ground, standing tall as your mom tried so hard not to collapse to the ground.

“You’re not… you're not coping well. I don’t want to lose you too.” your mom managed to get out between sobs, voice small and watery.

A sob escaped, shaking your body and making you stumble.

“You’re not going to lose me, I swear. I’m okay. I just… I just need some time.”

#the bear #reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto imagine #mikey the bear #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x reader #reader insert #richie berzatto imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #richie the bear #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto

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sugarysins · 5 days ago

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i've been editing my dragon age longfic from last year, ~50k words and 12 chapters so far, and i'm so excited to send it back out into the world fully polished 😸😸

so, with only a few hours left of wip wednesday, i hope you enjoy this snippet from "sorrows, prayers"

“What happened to Rosalie? And what about the others?” Cullen demanded as he spun around, a mad look in his eyes. “Mia? Branson?”

Mia and Branson - she didn’t recall ever meeting anyone with those names.

“Cassius, the leader of the werewolves, had cornered Rosalie. I had challenged him when the Inquisitor finally arrived, and I allowed her to take over.” Absent-mindedly she fiddled with the familiar locket perched on her chest. She didn’t miss the way Cullen’s eyes dropped down to her fingers, fixated on her jewelry.

“There was a choice, as I said. Protect Rosalie, or corner the Brylands. I’m sure you know what decision I made in the end. And as for the other two …” Hyacinth shook her head, lips pursed. “I never met them. I don’t know what became of them.”

Cullen pushed himself off the wall, settling in the high-backed chair across from her and running a hand down his face. Many moments passed in tense silence before he spoke again.

“You said the farms were pillaged. Branson resided in one of those cabins outside of the gates.”

A jolt of unease raised the hairs on her arms. It was as if her intuition were telling her now was the time to bring the mabari token out. “For the sake of all the gods, old and new, I pray this will mean nothing to you.”

Bewilderment crossed his face, hazel eyes wide and mouth agape as Hyacinth carefully set the wooden carving in front of him. His features tightened in an instant.

“How - where did you get this?” The token rolled over in his palm as he inspected it in the skylight that beamed through the cracks of the tower walls.

“Once again, I will spare you the details.” Her mouth had set in a hard line. “I found it in one of the cabins just outside the walls, where I stumbled across the first dead body. Branson, I presume. The body appeared to be male.”

Cullen had fallen silent once again. The stillness lasted for long enough that she wondered if she had overstayed her welcome. Dark shadows painted the crinkles of his deep set eyes, his normally tamed locks tickling his forehead, and he didn’t glance at her once as she observed him.

It was intriguing, how a man could look so haunted and so striking at the same time. Hyacinth turned from him then, unable to stand the sight any longer.

“I should take my leave.”

Ever so slowly he raised his head, eyes heavy with unshed tears. “I prayed for you. You and my family both. It didn’t matter. The Maker - he chose to save you that day. I suppose it was too much to ask that he spare the others, as well.” His tone was flat, hollow, and he seemed to be looking right through her as he spoke.

“Divine intervention is not to blame here,” she said as she approached the door. “It was an unfortunate circumstance and a tough call was made. We are always at war. Someone has to bear the burden of that responsibility. Would you have preferred that death to be on the Inquisitor’s conscience instead?”

“The Inquisitor would never have made that choice.”

Hyacinth scoffed and dared one step towards him. She opened her mouth in protest but found nothing to say. He was right, of course – Jessamine Trevelyan would have spared the innocent without a second thought.

A knock at the door tore his eyes away first. Hyacinth released the breath she was holding and turned to open the door. A scout was posted just outside. They exchanged nods and then Hyacinth was gone, not looking back once.

#it's been sitting in drafts for like half a year now #once i get these chapters edited imma post on ao3 weekly #i hope to have 15-20 chapters total but i write in sm detail it might end up being more and over 100k words #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #oc: hyacinth #hyacinth/cullen #cullenmance #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #dalish #dragon age fic #writing excerpt #ao3 writer #ao3: sweetestsins #wip wednesday #writing wip #nyx's writing 🌪️

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sometimesraven · 5 months ago

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@febuwhump Day 26 - Concealing an Injury

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition POV: 3rd Person Whumpee: f!Lavellan

Summary: Lavellan didn't hide an injury ever again, after the lectures she received that one time.

Warnings: Blood & Injury, Infection (necrotic damage)

AO3 Link

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Shit. Shit. Miriel stumbled slightly as the roar battle finally died to a murmur, clutching her stomach as pain radiated through her; the blood coating her fingers and sizzling softly around the open wound there. Clawed by a Shade in a moment of distraction.

This was bad. They were hours away from camp -- if they stopped to deal with her now they might not make it back for sundown and who knows what they'd encounter on the way. Glancing at her fellows, still distracted with making sure the last of the demons had been cleared out, she quickly straightened herself up and buttoned her jacket, hoping the tightness of it might help stem the blood a little. There was too much to be dealing with right now, and she was well accustomed to moving through pain. She distracted herself with the ache and buzzing in her hand, lifting the anchor quickly to the rift they'd been clearing before it could spit out more demons. Her wound tugged and pulsed in time with the Anchor as she reached towards the tear, 'feeling' for the core of its damage and tearing the power from it; trying not to double over too far as the blinding green faded to nothing and the buzzing faded to a dull thrum at last.

"Everyone good?" Bull called, taking stock of his surroundings as he holstered his axe. A chorus of affirmatives came from the others, and Lavellan was among them. She could feel Iron Bull's gaze linger on her for a moment, all but holding her breath until he nodded and turned away, gathering a few fallen resources and joining the group as they continued.

Lavellan didn't bother leading. They all knew where they were going, and sure enough Bull and Sera had wandered ahead before long, talking endlessly about something or another that she didn't much have the energy to listen to.

Her hands flexed at her sides with every step, the regular ache in her joints scarcely noticeable next to the burning in her torso. She could feel the wound pull and tug against her clothes, knew the dampness of fresh blood against her skin as any scabbing immediately caught on her torn shirt and tugged itself open again. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was wearing the leather coat, today.

"We are making good time, vhenan," Solas' voice was soft beside her, hushed as always to respect her need to be descreet about her condition. "If you need to rest, you should do so while we have the chance."

Miriel shook her head, forced herself upright. Gods, she wished it was only her illness causing her pain. It would be far easier to ignore. "I'm fine, Solas. Thank you."

"As you wish," he aquiesed with no small amount of doubt, falling silent again.

It was a couple of hours before she felt sick. The pain had long-since died to a dull ache, and Lavellan was beginning to forget it was even there, confident she would make it to camp and then some before she needed any intervention. Her body seemed to have other ideas.

The first thing she noticed was the numbness spreading through her legs, her fingertips... She had to manually move her limbs, feeling as heavy as she had the few times she'd pushed herself so far she'd fainted. The dizziness was there, too, and for a moment she wondered how she'd managed to get this exhausted without noticing -- until her stomach cramped and twisted, forcing her to double over with a slight gasp before she could bite back the pain. She was vaguely aware of Solas' hands on her, supporting her, his muffled voice barely reaching her ears as she swayed on the spot. Cold sweat prickled her skin, her hands trembling, her vision blackened at the edges. The ground rose to meet her, ever so slowly as Solas stopped her completely collapsing, rolled her onto her back.

Lavellan could just about see the concern etched in lines on his face, but couldn't think to reassure him. Her throat was closing, her heart pounding in her chest. Bull and Sera were hovering over her too now, as Solas' sharp gaze finally clocked the small damp patch glistening on dark leather, ripped her coat open. Sera recoiled. Bull's expression hardened. Even Solas' ice-calm gaze flickered slightly as he took in the damage. The wound on her stomach had grown black and necrotic, pulsing veins of corrupted magic raised beneath her skin.

She could see Solas barking orders. Sera and Bull left, then came back with bundles of herbs and twine. Pain began to radiate from her stomach again as Solas worked on her. She could feel dampness on her cheeks -- tears? She hadn't even noticed she was sobbing, every hitched breath making her shudder and wince. Sera was clinging to her hand. Bull had her head in his lap, stroking her hair. Solas gaze was frantic in the glow of his magic. It was only as the slightest flicker of relief touched his face that the blackness in her vision spread and consumed her.

The lecture she received about putting her needs above others came from Solas. And Josephine. And Leliana. And Varric. Seperately. Each at least an hour long.

Miriel did not conceal another injury from them, after that. If only to save her from the lectures.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2025 #febuwhumpday26 #infection cw #injury cw #lavellan #f!lavellan #female lavellan #dalish inquisitor #solavellan

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bunatee · 2 years ago

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OC-tober Day 7: Stargazing

I've written a condensed version of this scene below the cut <3

((A few things for context:

a. Early into the story Serenity saves Matisse's life after he is fatally stabbed. Serenity is not very powerful when it comes to using magic, and so she unknowingly messes up and uses a piece of her own soul to heal him. This has led to Matisse being able to feel her emotions as physical sensations. As of this point in the story Serenity is unaware of this.

b. It is a tradition among a certain clique of the upper class that every year during the summer's social season a weekend getaway is held at a little camp a few hours away from the capital. This is essentially just a bunch of young adults isolating themselves for a few days to get into their own trouble and party and do stupid young adult things without the judgement of the rest of society.

c. Kairos is the name of the local god.))

Matisse never missed a star shower if he could help it and he'd thought the event would be his to witness alone that night. Everyone else at the camp seemed to be preoccupied with their affairs or more interested in partaking in other vices. He never much liked keeping company with himself, but watching the stars alone was better than moping about the cabin watching the others having their fill of fun. He could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter as he sat on the rooftop.

When Serenity and Jacques had returned from their cute little hilltop date it was the sting of jealousy that goaded him into interrupting the two right as they were about to share a kiss. It wasn't until she turned to look up at him, that he could see how blotted and flushed her cheeks were, and hear how her words slurred and her accent came out as she scolded him for not making himself known sooner. Satisfaction came with the explanation of why he was there and her immediate request to join him. There was no room for guilt for his actions when Jacques had left them alone and she thanked him for that interruption.

Matisse thought he finally understood all of those little sensations that she caused. He was certain that the light little bubbles that caressed the scar were a kind of light happiness, but the prickly feeling that ebbed and flowed the whole evening were not a standard nervousness as he had thought, and so he named that feeling 'apprehension.'

The 'might have been a bit over half o' the bottle' of wine she'd had was hard at work softening her edges and allowing Matisse to witness a vulnerability she rarely shared. The heaviness was gone in an instant as she spotted the first falling star and grabbed his hand in delight. The glimmer in her eyes every bit as bright as the stars that began to flare across the sky.

Serenity thanked him again for being kind to her and for being such a dear friend as she kissed his cheek. Resolving to simply be a friend to her was difficult when the skin her lips had grazed burned, and their fingers were intertwined in the same way that he wished he could intertwine his heart and soul with hers.

It was as though Kairos himself planned the intervention when the screen door to the cabin creaked open and then slammed closed below them. Set popped up over the roof's edge a moment later, apologizing for interrupting as he hadn't realized she was there. Serenity only laughed and told him to join them. To Matisse's confusion she never let go of his hand, though she did move in a way that would have blocked Set's view of them.

Set was a relief. He lightened the mood and gushed about his evening with Asha. Serenity teased him for his unnecessary shyness, for being so enamored with the young lady who so clearly was just as enamored with him.

In time the three were all laid back watching the stars. Matisse, for a change, found himself to be the quiet party among them. Serenity and Set held a steady flow of conversation about everything and nothing, yet both mostly kept their eyes fixed to the sky above. Matisse couldn't find it within himself to do so, not when something more beautiful than the stars lay beside him.

((Thanks for reading! Hopefully, it's not too bad for being entirely unedited/proof-read. The actual chapter this takes place in is ~8k works, so condensing it like this was harder than expected.))

#Matisse is very silly for thinking she's holding his hand platonically #myart #original characters #ocs #divinerites #Matisse (OC)#Serenity (OC)#Set (OC)#bunatee's oc-tober tag

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misscammiedawn · 1 year ago

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I think the worst one I've ever seen was in It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, the movie that was billed as a Mr. Rogers biopic starring Tom Hanks but is actually an adaptation of a 1998 article about him (version posted without paywall)

The movie is primarily about a journalist who writes the article linked and his relationship with his estranged father. I should note that the movie takes such liberty with this plot that the journalist the movie is adapting asked to have the character's name changed to distance himself from the fiction.

In his piece for The Atlantic, the writer states that there were many creative liberties taken with the film, which is why he asked for his name to be changed, as he felt the story was no longer about him. Specifically, the narrative distorts Junod’s relationship with his father. The movie depicts Junod getting into a fistfight with his dad at his sister’s wedding, something the journalist said never happened. Despite his unconventionalities, Junod said he never rejected his father’s principles.

In the film the fictional version of Junod, Vogel, is forced to see his father again at a wedding and much of the plot revolves around the fracture of their relationship through the lens of Hanks' version of Mr. Rogers providing the moralizing view of acceptance and love above all other things.

My issue is not in the forgiveness or even the emotional manipulation of the film but in the fact that the protagonist is constantly guilted and shamed by his loved ones to forgive his father before he passes away. His wife overtly breaches his trust and invites Jerry, Vogel's father, into their home. The entire movie hinges on this weight of how a man must forgive their father who cheated on and abandoned his mother while she was dying and yet the film doesn't really do too much to make me understand why it is the crux of the entire world and requires the holy intervention of Mr. Rogers as played by Tom Hanks, to make it so.

This article explains it better than I could: https://www.genaradcliffe.com/home/2019/12/3/a-beautiful-day-in-the-neighborhood-amp-the-false-dichotomy-of-forgiveness

As a person who is No-Contact with her family of origin that movie plays like a slow motion trainwreck of my darkest fears and insecurities being played out with an entire cast forcing forgiveness as a moral imperative that is cruel, selfish and evil not to seek.

In comparison Big Fish has a similar fractured relationship between father and son and even has the same level of pressure for the child to do the legwork while the father stubbornly digs in with their old ways. Yet even still it earns the forgiveness (albeit the sleight is less weighty in that movie) by having the pair find a common ground of storytelling and see one another clearly, albeit again the son is forced to put in the work.

One of the comments on this post also mentions Jamie Tartt's father in Ted Lasso and that is a similar situation but at least Tartt Sr. checked in to a rehab clinic and was working on himself prior to his forgiveness which only happens in a montage. I was a little unhappy with it but I accept that they did have 2 scenes worth of set-up and payoff for it. But in a show which is entirely focused on father-son relationships (and a season that mentioned Jamie's dad forced him to have sex in his teens to "make a man of him") it was disappointing that the only living father with a bad relationship with their child was repaired in 2 scenes and a single line of dialogue.

But with the Ted Lasso issue the father is the one who puts in the work to go to rehab and displays their changed behavior.

Both Big Fish and Neighborhood force the traumatized child to do the heavy lifting because the father is dying and it would be so cruel to let them die without forgiveness.

I don't know. In my mind changed behavior is the best apology and the survivor should never have to do the heavy lifting and should have their agency in forgiveness transactions honored. I hate that society will guilt a person for walking away from family.

I'm making a video about forgiveness narratives (and why they're often harmful) so if you have any examples of a storyline in a movie or show where somebody forgave somebody who ABSOLUTELY DID NOT DESERVE IT please let me know!!

I'm talking like. actual abusive people, assholes, people who did unforgivable things and still got forgiven.

I'm collecting examples so throw them at me!!

#camden posting #watch me post my trauma in public

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

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The Parent Trap | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

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♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, struggles during breastfeeding, Jake Seresin cameo, flashback indicated by italics

…

“She’s seeing someone? — You’re kidding!”

Penny looks up from the bar, eyebrows scrunching slightly as she stares across the otherwise empty room at her husband and his two adopted grandchildren. Sitting opposite the two young girls in a booth, the three of them turn their heads and realize that they’re been overheard, then quietly resume their gossiping.

Maverick has this idea in his head that Rooster isn’t happy being alone. He probably isn’t, most people aren’t — but Penny has told him time and time again not to meddle. Rooster’s kind of a hot head about his personal life and this can only end badly.

Anyone that has come across Pete Mitchell, though, will be able to tell you that trying to get a bad idea out of his head is like drawing blood from a stone. There’s no level of intervention that can stop whatever he’s up to. Besides, it is a little bit cute watching the three of them plotting away together.

The door startles Penny as she’s cleaning residue from the beer taps. It’s only eight in the morning, they aren’t open yet and that door is supposed to be locked. Mav left it open. Jake Seresin strolls in the same way he always does, sunglasses on, lips quirked. Like he owns the place.

“Penny.” He greets with a nod.

“Little bit early for me to be seeing you, isn’t it?” She replies with a soft smile, setting her cloth down and leaning her palms forwards on her side of the bar. Jake takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into the front pocket of his khakis.

“My blushing bride seems to think she left something here last night.” Jake answers without a hint of shame, lips quirked at the sides, knowing Penny knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Ah. Yeah, I was wondering if she would be wanting it back.” Penny answers, her cheeks running hot even though she has nothing to be embarrassed about. Jake’s wedding is to a local girl that Penny has known for years, Quinn even worked her for a couple of summers while she was in college. Last night, Quinn’s bachelorette party began here.

Penny crouches down and slides the lost and found box out from under the counter. She presents Jake with a plastic bag. His brows scrunch slightly. Quinn only sent him here for a phone. Glancing between Penny and this mysterious plastic bag, he opens it gingerly. She watches as his grin grows slightly.

Sure, there’s his fiancées phone. But there’s also a cute little gimmicky thong that was a gift from one of her friends that proudly proclaims ‘Property of Captain Jake Seresin’ on it. There are a few other things too, but it’s the thong that really catches Jake’s eye. He chuckles and closes the bag again.

“Thanks for saving these for me, angel. I’ll make sure that they get back to Quinn safely.” He winks one of his green eyes at her and pats a hand over the top of the bag.

Penny breathes out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. In her almost fifteen years of knowing Jake, he hasn’t changed a bit. “I’m sure you will.”

The sound of hushed whispering draws Jake’s attention away from their conversation, his head turning towards the booth in the corner. He leaves the bag on the bar, wandering over, “Bradshaw’s!”

They turn their heads in unison, two freckled faces staring up at the man who taught them exactly how fun water balloons can be, smiles crossing their faces. “Hey, Jake.”

“What are you two troublemakers doing here? — Shouldn’t you be in school?” He checks the heavy, black IWC watch on his wrist and frowns slightly at the two of them.

“We got suspended.” Parker answers calmly, still undecided in whether or not she should feel guilty about the situation. It’s hard to feel guilty when she gets to spend an entire week hanging out with Grandpa Mav instead of learning fractions.

“No way,” Jake smiles at the idea, leaning forwards and resting his palms on the table on the booth. He has always said that the two of them take after their mother and this just proves it. You always had a knack for finding mischief. “What’d you do?”

“We swapped places so that I could beat someone up for her.” Peyton explains. Jake grins. He and Rooster might have had their differences, but Jake has always adored these little terrors. He turns his head towards Mav, raising his eyebrows and then looking back to the girls.

“You look like you’re up to no good right now.” Jake decides, folding his arms over his broad chest. The twins glance at Maverick and Jake knows that he’s right. He slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, opening it up. He drops two five dollar bills in front of each of the girls, “Well, do me a favour and give your old man a little hell.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Parker grins up at him. Like butter wouldn’t melt with her little pigtails and their matching denim overalls. Jake smiles and gives them a curt nod as he steps back.

Jake chuckles to himself as he waves goodbye to Penny and takes his fiancée’s belongings back to his car.

“What did Bradley say when she told him?” Maverick presses.

“He was fine with it!” Peyton bangs her fists on the table, startling her sister and getting a sharp look from Penny. She sighs and folds her arms over her chest. “He’s going to meet this weirdo tomorrow!”

Maverick hums, resting his hand over his face. Admittedly, he hadn’t been expecting a third party and this derails some of the plans he had made with the kids. But, it doesn’t kill the plan completely.

He sits forwards and rests his hands on the table as they lean in closer to hear him. “Okay, so here’s what you do, and this is important, so listen.”

The next afternoon, Bradley finds himself more anxious than usual for the evening. It’s a big deal. Meeting someone who could be a big part of his childrens’ lives. Bradley glances around his room at the two of them, wondering for a moment what they would think if they knew.

Only, they do know, and they’re two steps ahead of him already.

“How come you’re watching me get ready? — You two never care what I wear.” Rooster squints at them through the mirror as he tries to tame his short curls with a small amount of styling wax. Parker picks up the pot and inspects it. Barber Barber beachcomber sea-salt infused styling paste. She lifts it and inhales. It smells good, at least.

Peyton searches through his closet, looking through shirt after shirt as she tries to find one that’s good enough.

“Are you going on a date?” Parker asks. He glances down at her as he grabs the deodorant from his dresser and sprays it under his arms.

“No, just going out with some friends.” He replies calmly. Telling white lies to your kids is just part of being a parent.

“Which friends?” Peyton prompts.

Rooster gives her a quick look from the corner of his eye and smooths a hand over his mustache, eyeing himself in the mirror. There’s more scrutiny in the way he looks at himself now than there used to be. It isn’t that he has let himself go, it’s just that he’s not as young as he used to be. Stronger now, a little less lean than he was back then.

“We don’t have to tell each other everything, you know.”

“I’m gonna remember that when you’re asking me who I’m going on a date with in a couple of years.” Parker replies.

“Watch it.” Rooster warns, instantly frowning at her. She smiles sweetly back up at him. She looks so much like you when she does that. There’s affection in the way he rolls his eyes and grabs his belt from his dresser. “You found a shirt for me yet, honeybee?”

Peyton hums in consideration and steps up onto the base of the wardrobe, extending onto her tiptoes to pull a hanger down from the rack. She turns and sets it on the bed, “Try this one.”

Rooster scrunches up his nose slightly, eyeing the coal coloured button up that his daughter just laid out in front of him. “Kinda boring, don’t you think?”

“It’s grown up.” She protests, hopping up onto the foot of his bed and staring him down, “Try it.”

It’s probably not the smartest move to take advice on what’s grown up and what isn’t from a seven year old, but Bradley relents. It’s a grey linen short sleeve. He slips it over his shoulders and buttons it up. Peyton frowns at her father’s reflection as Parker shakes her head in disapproval

Something about it isn’t clicking. It hugs him too tightly in the wrong places, it sits weird on his arms. He sighs softly. There’s no way he’s wearing this to see you.

“Guys?” The chirpy voice carries through the condo as the front door swings shut downstairs. Amber. Parker glances across at her sister as Bradley calls back that they’re upstairs.

Amber is the twenty year old college student that lives next door. She trails her manicured fingers along the wall as she strolls along the carpeted hallway, already barefoot by the time that she stops to lean up against Bradley’s doorframe. She’s super friendly and she has been so helpful since she got back from college for the summer. She adores the twins and will babysit whenever Bradley asks.

“Hey, Amber — does this look dumb?” Bradley asks, furrowing his brows as he half turns towards her, still eyeing up the awkward fit of the shirt through the mirror. She smiles, her plump, glossed lips quirking at the edges as she looks him up and down.

“Like that? — Um…” She presses her hand over her mouth like she’s about to laugh. Rooster scoffs and shakes his head as he starts to unbutton the shirt.

“Enough said. Pick something else, my little Honeybee.” He chuckles. Amber’s green eyes trail as his fingers work open the buttons on the shirt, revealing more and more tanned skin. Peyton moves to jump down.

“Wait, wait…” Crossing past Parker, she steps in front of her boss and looks him over once more. “We can fix this. Do you have tank tops?”

Parker moves to sit beside her sister on the bed. Faces stormy and their eyes crossed, they watch as this borderline teenager plays dress up with their daddy.

First she gives him a tank top, and then she recommends that he changes his pants. She fiddles through his jewelry while he changes. He steps out of his en-suite with the grey short sleeve unbuttoned and black dress pants that hug his hips perfectly.

“How do I look?”

Her hands reach out and curl into the unbuttoned sides of the shirt, holding onto the fabric as she looks him over. The smile on her lips is unmistakably sly as she nods her head at him, “Amazing. Right, girls?”

Met with immediate silence and stoney faces, Amber’s confidence wavers. Peyton folds her arms over her chest while Parker squints at her side.

“Alright, well I’ve gotta get going. There’s money in the kitchen for pizza, bed by nine at the latest. I’ll be back before eleven. Have fun, kids!”

Amber winces at herself being included in that. Even wearing her Mom’s perfume and the shortest skirt she owns, he’s still calling her kid. She doesn’t realise that Bradley’s aloofness doesn’t run in the family.

The knowing look in the girls’ eyes as their babysitter checks out of the window and watches their dad drive away. The trouble they’re already planning to ensure that she won’t be invited back.

“Babe?” Slamming the car door shut, Bradley damn near forgets to lock it as he bundles the plastic bag under his arm. He rushes forwards, crossing the browning lawn at the front of the condominium and fumbling for his house key. No time for lack of precision, he slips the key into the lock and twists. Even before the door opens, the screaming fills his ears. Hell, he could hear it before he had even turned the car radio off.

“Baby?” The powder-blue painted door swings open wide, chipping paint from the hallway wall that’ll count as a two hundred dollar reduction in the return of your rental deposit later on. He kicks it shut behind him and carries on through the small apartment, already knowing exactly where you are. There are technically only four rooms to pick from.

The kitchen and living room are all in one space. Small bathroom. Two bedrooms. The screaming tells him exactly which room you’re in. Rounding the corner into the nursery, his heart breaks in two. You’re sitting on the floor with your back to Parker’s crib, your head in your hands. He hadn’t heard you sobbing until right now.

“Baby,” He breathes out, legs carrying him forwards as he moves to sit next to you. Parker’s cradled in against your chest, wailing as loudly as her little lungs will let her. Behind you, Peyton’s screaming just as loud in her crib. “It’s okay, give me the baby.”

Up close, he can finally see the way that you’re trembling. No, not even trembling. Shaking. Your lips, your arms, your legs. Unable to hold still as your body wracks with sobs and your smaller baby flails in your arms. Faintly, you can hear your husband saying your name.

“Give me the baby, it’s okay.” Bradley says softly.

Your lip quivers as you cradle her closer to your chest, silent tears burning your cheeks as they stream freely. Your voice breaks, barely audible over the newborn screeches that fill your small apartment. “I called you over an hour ago.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he sits forwards, shuffling closer to you. He presses his lips to your temple, “I got here as quick as I could. Let me take her.”

You hold her closer, a silent sob wracking through you, feeling her tiny heart racing against your skin with how worked up she has gotten. Tears stream down your face without a break, living your skin wet and salty. “I can’t — s-she still won’t— I’ve been trying—“

“I know, I know, it’s alright,” He smooths a hand gently over the wispy curls on Parker’s head, fluffy and already thinning from the amount that she had been born with. He kisses your shoulder softly. “I got the formula.”

Parker was born smaller than her sister. It’s natural with twins, there’s almost always a smaller one. But, it’s been three weeks. Peyton latches without issue and her weight has been progressing normally. Three weeks old and yesterday’s doctors appointment confirmed that she’s still underweight.

Your mother managed to breastfeed four kids successfully. Four different pregnancies, four different times in her life — and you can’t manage just the two of them. She has been telling you since you found out that you were pregnant that your body would know what to do, that it would all be okay and it isn’t.

“C’mon, mama. Let’s get her fed,” Bradley hums softly as he reaches out for her. “Just need her to stop crying first. Right? — We’ll figure out what comes next after that.”

He kisses the top of your head as you relax your arms enough for him to take the newborn.

“That’s it. Alright, I’m gonna go and make her a bottle. Can you bring Peyton? — Doc says they should eat on the same schedule.” He pushes himself up with one hand and cradles your daughter with the other.

“I fucking fed Peyton already!”

It’s snappier than you mean for it to be. Your chest heaves after you speak, throat sore already from all of the crying. Bradley nods his head, “Perfect. That’s great — she’s probably just crying because loud mouth here’s keeping her up. She’ll calm down. I’m gonna be right back, baby. Two minutes.”

He scoops up the plastic back on the floor and wanders off towards the kitchen. Over the sound of the other twin screaming, you can hear him faintly shushing your daughter.

“Not even a month old yet,” Bradley hums, pressing his lips to his daughter’s forehead, then her nose. “Already being a little trouble-maker. We’ve got our work cut out with you, huh, kid?”

He sways softly, taking care to support her tiny head, leaning back to keep her balanced against his shoulder as he shifts her into one arm so that he can pour the boiled water. Humming softly, he doesn’t even realize that the crying in the other room has stopped until the bottle is ready and Parker’s screeching is replaced with the contented hums.

“Atta girl,” Rooster murmurs, his infant daughter rested safely along his forearm, leaned back against the kitchen counter and her bottle lifted in his other hand whilst she guzzles the formula back. “Gonna just as big as your sister one day, aren’t you?”

A soft whimper breaks his attention from the baby. He looks up and finds you standing in the doorway to the hall. This isn’t how motherhood looked when you had pictured it.

You, barely able to get one baby off to sleep, standing in yesterday’s pyjamas at four in the afternoon, watching your husband take care of the baby after he has been at work all day. You stare at him, still in his work khakis, making it look so natural.

Standing before him in one of his stretched out old hoodies and a pair of boxers that you bought for yourself in your final trimester. Skin blotchy and your eyes swollen with tears, you turn your face away from him towards the ground.

“Hi, beautiful,” Rooster smiles at you. After most of her two ounce bottle is finished, Parker stops drinking and Bradley sets the bottle down on the counter. His face soft, head tilted, those big brown eyes tugging at your heart strings. “Tough day?”

A sob catches in your throat as you stumble forwards and press yourself into his side. Parker tucked up against his other shoulder as he pats her back gently, he’s quick to wrap his other arm around you. He’s going to have to grow a third with him being outnumbered like this.

“I keep trying and she just won’t — or she can’t — or I’m doing something — a-and my Mom says that—“ Babbling on, dampening the shoulder of his uniform. Bradley simply rests his cheek against your hair and smiles to himself.

“Baby,” It’s enough to make you quiet for a minute. His hand patting Parker’s back softly, the gravel of his voice vibrating through his chest as your head lays against his shoulder. “Your Mom once asked me if the movie Avatar was based on a true story. She gets it wrong sometimes.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the analogy he chose, hugging yourself closer to his side, resting your hand against Parker’s back over the top of his.

“Formula or breastfeeding — whatever stops her from screaming the house down like that is a win in my book. How about yours?” Bradley asks, rubbing his free hand up and down along the base of your spine. You nod softly against his chest. He pulls back and lays Parker down along the length of his forearm again, her head resting against your stomach.

“I just want to do it all right. They’re so perfect, and I just… I want to be perfect for them too, like you are.”

“Me? — Perfect?” Bradley lifts his head and grins at you. He unhooks his arm from around your waist and presses the back of his palm to your forehead. “All these kids are making you loopy, baby.”

You lean down and kiss her forehead softly, then settle back in against Bradley’s side. “I’m so worried about her already. Do you think we ever stop feeling like this?”

Bradley shakes his head softly as he strokes his index finger along her rounded cheek, and over her chin. “Nah. Kids are designed to stress their parents out, it’s like their sole purpose.”

Lips quirking softly at the sides, you glance up at him and know that he’s probably right. Doing it with him made it all seem okay, though. Being stressed out with him at your side didn’t seem so tough.

Now, staring at him across the restaurant, it suddenly occurs to you to wonder when all of that changed. When had doing it alone become a safer option than having him with you? — Those last few months all seem so blurry now.

The memories might be fuzzy but the feelings aren’t. They’re heavy and they’ve sat with you for the past two years. You might not remember exactly why you let him go, but the pain is enough to know that you wouldn’t like to feel that way again.

“Rooster!”

Chris and Bradley’s heads turn at the same time. Bradley nods in acknowledgement as his autopilot directs him to do. Then, he steps past the hostess and points to the two of you. He takes in what’s in front of him as he walks over.

This new guy isn’t ugly, which is more irritating than Bradley was expecting it to be. He looks him up and down. Loose fitting jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned up. Brown hair that really isn’t styled all that differently from Bradley’s. But, thanks to Amber, Bradley is dressed significantly better.

The pants fit him perfectly and the charcoal shirt just makes his skin look even more golden than it usually is. You squint softly and wonder who the fuck dressed him — because the man that you married doesn’t dress like that.

Maybe the man that you divorced does. It’s been a long time since you saw Bradley for something other than drop offs or pick ups.

“Hey.”

“Roo— Bradley,” It seems more grown up, more formal. A more appropriate way to refer to your ex husband. “This is Chris. Chris, this is Bradley.”

“Heard a lot about you.” Chris smiles, cheeks dimpling as he sticks his hand out. You watch as Bradley takes his hand and shakes it casually. Weird — it’s weird.

“You’re still a man of mystery to me,” Bradley admits playfully, shooting you a quick look and noticing that you’re eyeing his outfit. Letting the babysitter pick what he was wearing was a good choice. “Luckily, I’m good at asking questions.”

Small talk, small talk. Your ex-husband and your boyfriend are hitting it off like a house on fire and you’re just standing idly between them, wondering why this doesn’t please you as much as it should.

The nerves that have been bothering you all weekend don’t settle down even when they’re laughing and jibing each other about football teams and golf. You didn’t even know that Bradley played golf.

You’re shown to your table and you accidentally pick the seat between them. Chris sits back in his seat with one hand on your knee and the other curled around his beer as he teases Bradley about a football game from three years ago that their teams played against each other.

As much as he’s enjoying the conversation, Bradley’s eyes keep wandering back to that guy’s hand on your knee. His foot taps impatiently against the floor, fighting to keep his focus on the conversation.

Finally, focus shifts to something a little more engaging for you when Bradley asks you how the two of you met. He sits back on his chair and watches the two of you finish each other’s sentences.

“Well, Chris’ workshop is right down the street from my store, and y’know, I have consultations all the time and weddings are stressful so I like to keep my appointments chill and quiet, but then he was always—“

“Y’know, building something. Hammering, sawing, whatever. And there are a couple of times actually, where she came flying through the door of my shop telling me what’s what and —“

His thumb swipes through the condensation on his beer, staring at you. Your face is turned away from him, looking at Chris with this dopey, lovesick look on your face. Bradley wonders if you’ve told him that you love him yet.

It’s a cute story. The way that you’re beaming across the table at this guy doesn’t make Bradley happy, but he knows that it should. By the time you’re finished eating, he has searched high and low for some kind of major character flaw on this guy and had come up with nothing.

Short, brown hair. Stubble covering his jaw, kind of a squinty cowboy look to contrast the sharp blue of his eyes, not short. Handsome, sure. And he’s great with kids.

Bradley damn near picks up his dessert spoon and turns it into a weapon — either for use on himself or your new boyfriend, he isn’t sure, when he listens to Chris’ stories from his work with inner city kids.

Thankfully, right as they’re getting into the nitty gritty of Chris’ charitable personality, Bradley’s phone cuts through the silence. You grin across the table at Chris, squeezing his large palm in yours and pretending that this doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as it does.

“Whoa — kid, slow down. What?” Bradley plugs a finger into his other ear, brows furrowing as he tries to decipher the incoherent babbling on the other end of the phone.

“I looked everywhere, and I’ve been calling them for like fifteen minutes! I don’t know if they’re hiding or they ran away but I’m freaking out right now, please don’t be mad at me — should I call the cops?”

Rooster pushes his chair out and stands up from the table. “Jesus Christ, no. Don’t call the cops, I’m on my way. Did you check the crawl space in my room?”

“Cops? — Rooster, what the fuck?” You frown at him from across the table. Rooster sighs and presses his finger into his ear drum to understand the shrieking girl on the line.

“There’s a crawl space in your room?”

“Just, hang tight. I’m gonna be ten minutes. Tell them I’m on my way and they’ll probably turn up.” He hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and tugging it open. “I’m really sorry, I’ve gotta run. It was great meeting you Chris, you seem really cool, but, uh—“

“Rooster, did you let somebody lose our kids?”

“No! I left them with a very responsible babysitter, actually, and I’m pretty sure that they’re just messing with her.”

“Oh, well that’s good. You’re pretty sure.” You sigh, shaking your head at him as you set your glass down. “I’ll be sure to mention that when I issue the amber alert.”

Chris slips his hand into yours and squeezes softly as Bradley tosses his card down onto the table.

“Whatever. I’ll text you.” He slips his wallet back into his pants and turns, leaving your mouth gaping.

“Are you kidding — our kids might be missing, we’re obviously coming. Right?” You shoot a look across at Chris as it occurs to you that this is probably extremely overwhelming for him. He gives you a calm smile and nods his head at you.

…

@fadingbelieverexpert @jessirosebud @cowboybarbie @pinkpantheris @thedroneranger @a-serene-place-to-be @xoxabs88xox @unordinaire @slutfordw @fudge13 @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @sharpsapphic666 @khaylin27 @bradshawseresinbabe @diorrfairy @perpetuelledaydreaming @phoenix1388 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff

“Yeah. I’ll get the car if you settle up in here, we’ll meet Rooster back at his place.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #the parent trap

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wireddless · 3 years ago

Note

will you be writing more fics for officer callahan? please tell me you are that was one of the best fics ive ever read for a side character omg. if you're still taking requests for him could you maybe do something with him being a new dad? i feel like that fits him. or anything really, there just isnt enough content for him out there

-🍒

I absolutely will be :) I loved this request so much, I imagine Phil being rlly tender and kind and we all know he's kind of an aloof asshole but I just can't get these thoughts out!! Pairing: Phil Callahan/Reader Word count: 1270 Warnings: slight depictions of labor, not at all graphic, hopefully very innocent and SFW

The telltale hum of Chief Powell’s cruiser wooshed down Keystone Avenue, the street lanterns of the well-off neighborhood turning on like clockwork, lighting the path that Powell and Callahan took on their final evening rounds around Hawkins. Static from the police stereo filled the Ford LTD, and Phil Callahan’s senses, like the occasional flood from a heavy rain on Lover’s Lake. His fingers drummed nervously on his thighs, his thoughts racing, unable to focus on the task at hand. (Y/n) was nine months pregnant, ready to pop any day now. Forty-one weeks, it was a wonder she wasn’t already rocking with a baby in her arms.

He was stressed. But shit, how could he not be? The last few weeks had left him jumpy and on-edge, more so than usual. (Y/n), stubborn as ever, had insisted on a homebirth, and had refused almost any medical intervention, besides the monthly check-up. Her insistence had left just about all of her loved ones on edge. Her mother, a former labor and delivery nurse, had been fretting so nearby that the young couple barely had room to breathe, but he couldn’t blame her. Home births were on a steady incline in popularity, taking plenty of young, new age, expectant mothers by storm. Of course, the pregnancy had gone surprisingly smooth, with almost no issues, besides the nausea early on, and shortened temper. But things go wrong! She could die giving birth. How would Phil be able to live without her? He just got her! Phil grimaced as he realized he made it sound like she was his possession.

“...Phil… Callahan!” The new chief’s voice quickly dragged Phil out of his near spiral. Sweat had practically left a never-drying spot on his brow, his curls constantly threatening to matt and stick to his head.

“Shit! Sorry, sir! What were you saying?” Phil quickly removed his glasses to wipe them on his uniform shirt, forcing himself to remain present, at least for the next hour or so. Powell’s voice sounded strained and stressed, as if absorbing some of the fear that Officer Callahan, who was now shoving glasses onto his face, radiated.

“I was trying to ask if you had seen anything worth noting in the log so far,” Powell glanced away from the road to Phil, a sympathetic look decorating his features. “But I’ll assume you were off in LaLa Land again.” Powell sighed before speaking again, trying to ease the guilt on his friend’s face. “She’s gonna be okay, Phil.”

“I know, I just-” Phil was cut off by the static on the police stereo crackling, before Florence’s voice could be heard.

“Chief! You’re doing the final rounds with Callahan, correct?” Her voice seemed more urgent than normal.

“That would be affirmative.” Powell held down the button that allowed her to hear them.

“His mother in law’s just called-” Oh shit. “His wife’s gone into labor and needs him very soon, urgently!” Oh shit! It was actually fucking happening!

“Speak of the Devil! Copy that!” Powell’s finger bumped the speaker button again before quickly moving to flick on the sirens. The cruiser jolts forward as the chief rammed his foot into the gas pedal. Turn after sharp turn was made as Powell sped across Hawkins towards Phil’s home.

•••

The house was fairly lit, only one of the residents still within the walls, accompanied by her mother and closest friend. Crouched on the livingroom floor, with old pillows supporting her knees, was (Y/n), attempting to follow breathing exercises, doing the best she possibly could to keep calm under current circumstances. Her friend had momentarily released her hand to pull her hair back from her sweat-laden brow, attempting to make the process even slightly more comfortable.

“Mom, where is he?” (Y/n) cried out, another wave of pressure flooding over her. The contractions were now less than a minute apart.

“He’s coming, baby, I promise.” Her mothers voice did little to soothe her, but she was thankful for the reassurance, nonetheless. As the contraction faded, allowing her a brief period of rest, approaching sirens, followed by tires squealing could be heard through the walls. (Y/n)’s mother jumped from her station next to her daughter to drag her son-in-law in the house. The door flung open right as Phil rushed up the steps.

“When did she go into labor?” Phil quickly flung his boots off and undid his tie, looking towards his mother-in-law for answers.

“About five hours ago, I checked two minutes ago and she’s about 8 centimeters right now.”

“Five hours ago?! Why wasn’t I told earlier?” Phil was trembling, resembling a small dog out of it’s element.

“She refused to let you leave your shift early, especially since she wasn’t ready to deliver. I only called when she told me I could.” Her mother led him to her, where she was crouched down, using the wall to hold her up. Phil immediately falls to his knees next to her, his hands finding themselves on her shoulder blades and intertwined with her free hand.

A small cry of relief escaped (Y/n)’s lips as Phil embraced her while still attempting to give her space. Her head fell onto his chest, another contraction falling upon her wearying muscles. Phil’s lips found her head, caressing her scalp with such tenderness.

Phil was as perfect as a man could be in these situations, comforting her and praising her, and allowing her whatever space she needed. He definitely fainted once his daughter came into the world, though, only briefly of course.

•••

Phil had insisted upon taking the nightshift to their daughter for at least a week after she was born, claiming (Y/n) needed to be able to rest enough to actually recover. He did everything he could for both of his girls. Thanks to Powell granting him paid leave, he changed diapers, bottle fed, and did everything in his power to allow her some rest. To be quite honest he was exhausted, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It was another hazy morning, the sky just beginning to lighten with the first glimpse of day. Around six, maybe. He hummed gently, making eye contact with the brand new little human in his arms. One arm supported her body and head, as the other tilted the bottle at the right angle, so she could push it away when she was finished. His body slowly danced back and forth, hoping the rocking motion would put her down for at least a couple more hours. Her small fingers wrapped around a single one of his, slowly pushing it and the bottle away. Their eye contact was slowly broken as she finally succumbed to the rocking motion, and fell back into a gentle sleep.

Unbeknownst to him, Phil had a groggy spectator. His mustache could hardly conceal his grin as he looked down at his daughter. He gently set the bottle down on the table before coming back up to her. Small, quiet, steps drew his attention from the dozing infant in his arms, to his wife, smiling and giddy from witnessing their bond form. (Y/n) gently and slowly took the baby from him, managing to set her down in the empty cradle without waking her.

As her arms slowly retreated, Phil trapped her in his embrace, nuzzling down into her neck. “You’re such a softie, Phil.” Was all she could say as he took her lips in his, gentle, and admiring.

The sky had brightened even more, and when most of Hawkins was still sleeping, the stillness was kind to them.

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wito-chan-bla-bla · 3 years ago

Text

Detected, but not definitively

It was an ordinary day. An ordinary day when you accidentally called Zhongli "Master Morax" under Hu Tao. Unfortunately, you don't look like a pervert, so the girl will definitely think that your partner is a former god. Or?..

Warnings: mentions of "bed affairs", but nothing more

It was another day when your dear partner forgot his wallet. And you could have left him without money, because Zhongli would still spend it on some useless and expensive statuette, but today he promised to go grocery shopping while you were visiting your sister, so you couldn't let him wander around the market without a single coin in his pocket!

So, you were quickly approaching the funeral home, deftly maneuvering between the walking residents of Liyue, as small boats do in the sea. Finally a familiar corner that you almost jumped into before stopping to catch your breath.

Your dear Zhongli was just a few steps away, it only remains to open the doors and find his office!

Everyone at the funeral home already knew you, so they let you through without any problems and attempts to offer a discount on the coffin. You nodded thoughtfully at all the greetings, thinking about tonight.

You'll be home late, so dinner will probably be ready by now. (If Zhongli doesn't forget to buy groceries). The former god will meet you in a cute apron with a picture of a heart, which your sister gave him. The man will smile, watching your tired movements, before coming up and kissing you on the temple, greeting you with his soft and low voice.

Then Zhongli will help you take off your coat, hang a heavy thing on a hook. His hands will be on your cheeks, holding you firmly. The dragon will leave a few kisses on your cheeks and lips before letting go and letting you change.

And then you will have a quiet dinner. The kitchen is warm and smells amazing, Geo user is sitting with the most satisfied face, watching you taste his food. Perhaps he will even have a tail and horns, because he will stop controlling himself from happiness.

And after a hearty dinner, you will start washing dishes, mentally already lying in bed. And that's when Zhongli, hitting the floor with his tail, will come up to you from behind, hug you, putting his hands on your waist. He leaned over, his sharp teeth grazing your ear as he whispers faintly: "It seems your Archon, Master Morax, deserves some reward for his efforts..."

You blushed and jumped when you heard a familiar voice. Again, the amber eyes look at you with unshakable calm. Zhongli is always like this in public. It doesn't change. But behind closed doors…

You greet him with a small and embarrassed smile, trying not to think about what you imagined in your head. You say that you brought him the wallet, and the former god smiles gratefully, the corners of his lips fly up. He stretches out his hand and takes the thing held out to him, his fingers touch your hand, and even more inappropriate thoughts rummage in your head.

He's so perfect in that suit... and at the same time he gets so wild as soon as he gets home. You can only squeak softly, watching him unbutton his buttons and look at you with a dragon's gaze, saying... no, he orders. And he commands with the voice of a real god.

At such moments, you can and have the right only to call his divine status and take his attention, whatever it is at the moment. Because you are just a little mortal man caught in the net of such a powerful god... and you like it.

At this moment, Hu Tao runs in, and you sincerely thank her for her intervention, because otherwise you would definitely have pounced on Zhongli at this moment. The man does not understand why your cheeks are red, but his boss starts talking, and God does not decide to ask in front of the owner of Pyro Vision.

The dragon and the little man chat, allowing you to move away to the exit. You try not to blurt out something superfluous, although your thoughts have not been about your sister and a quiet dinner for a long time. Hm-m, when was the last time you didn't pass out in bed or on the couch, why did Zhongli have to cover you with a blanket? When was the last time you fell asleep without... clothes on? Perhaps it's been too long for your thoughts to stop now on anything but the possibilities of tonight.

At the moment when you want to leave safely, Hu Tao calls out to you, saying that leaving without saying goodbye is bad. You jump up and smile nervously. Completely at a loss, so abruptly pulled out of your dreams, you say:

– Yes, yes, bye, Master Morax. See you at home.

Everything freezes for a second... except Hu Tao. A girl with a playful expression on her face turns to a man who blushes and looks at you with panicked eyes. Zhongli loves it when you call him by his first name. But isn't he a dead god for everyone?

You start panicking and waving your arms, laughing nervously. Hu Tao has always been too attentive not to understand in the end that your dear partner is Geo Archon!

–H–Hu Ta-a-a-ao! – you stretch out, trying to come up with at least one adequate reason why Zhongli is not Geo Archon. Because if Hu Tao finds out, it is unknown how long this secret will live!.. – We just!..

–Don't worry, I understand everything. How can I not? – she giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. You and the dragon are turning pale. – I generally guessed that Zhongli has such a side, – you almost faint from your stupidity. – After all, he... clearly dominates in bed!

You just stood there and showed with all your appearance the cry: "A-a-a-a-a?!" Hu Tao, who pointed at you with her finger, laughed.

–Don't worry so much, (Y/N)! I will not tell anyone that you are defiling the name of our deceased god by playing such games in bed. I'm a grave, – she winks and snaps her fingers. – Well, now I'm off! By the way, Zhongli, so be it, you can leave early today.

Before leaving, the girl elbows the funeral home consultant a couple of times, winking. She jumps away, giggling contentedly.

You almost fall to the floor from your stupidity, but strong hands catch you.

–W-will I be punished? – you whisper in a weak voice. Something flashed in Zhongli's serious eyes.

–You don't even have to ask about it.

#zhongli x reader #morax x reader #genshin impact #gn!reader #zhongli x gn!reader

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lamentingwclf · 1 year ago

Text

He laughs, a humorless laugh at the suggestion of dashing in with heroics, and diving in without thinking. It reminds him of someone that causes a hole in his heart to open and a very heavy presence to wrap around him. Maybe one day these reminders will come less frequently. Maybe one day they will hurt less. But today he hides them behind the mask of a stress response and a retort. "What can I say, I learned from the best." He does not drop his hand as he says it, so much as he drags it through the strands of her hair, taking a few steps back, and holds both out dramatically before bowing.

They come together again in front of him, wrapped around the weapon he'd presented and with minimal pressure, snaps it in half with a spark. Maybe they should have taken it, investigated it further. Maybe the logical choice would have been to see the true effect it had on her, but the idea of hurting her...the idea of suggesting hurting or weakening her causes his heart to stutter uncomfortably. So makes the conscious choice not to, and tosses both halves away from each other.

He's made enough of an ass of himself today that he thinks one more will only be ticking a box of her disdain at his intervention. "While we're constructively criticizing each other - " He pauses only for her to see the wry expression that accompanies it. "You got a smart mouth, and I'm honestly surprised it hasn't gotten us in more trouble." It was the pot calling the kettle, she's showing her cards in being a hypocrite, so he would too. It wasn't her that was the loose canon, but him.

Which raised the question: why? Bucky had never been one to simply rush in, but always saw the bigger picture and carefully chose the best approach. He'd spent too long with the skills of a highly trained assassin ingrained into his mind to not be careful. Beyond that, when it came down to an analysis of their abilities, he'd bet on Wanda's every. damn. time.

AH, Shit.

His eye twitches - teasing of attachments and dancing around the topic was all fine and dandy. As were the passing touches, the brush of a cheek disguised as checking for injury or wiping away dirt. They'd slipped in an ease around each other, but genuine, real, affection was another thing. It complicated things in a way that made his ears feel hot and he turned away and brushed the back of his neck.

It was bullshit.

Bucky liked her, and he was absolutely fucked for this knowledge - because it was so completely obvious she could hit him with it. Call D4, sink the battleship, and he'd have no retort. He starts walking away from her, pausing only to call over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

She didn't expect his hands to pull her in, but she wasn't about to cower or be meek at such a time. Was there a need to do that around him? Wanda kept her gaze up, and knew she would have done so without assistance. But perhaps being truthful to herself the hold he had was welcome. She didn't really believe, either, that he was angry at her. The issue was own misplaced anger getting in the way, making her sound petulant. She'd put it down to tiredness but she ought to know better. Wanda’s gaze followed his movements until he brought up the weapon.

At the sight and his words, she inwardly winced - perhaps, almost imperceptibly, turning into the hand he still had up to her. Wanda could be reckless and arrogant, but she liked to think she could also keep her cool and do what had to be done. That she could be TRUSTED not to be a loose cannon. She thought she had this under control, but the thought of that happening did cause her heart to flutter, a new ache appearing.

There was silence a moment as she contemplated that, fingers running (carefully) over the rod as she mused, before her eyes went from the weapon to meet his gaze once more. "I know that. It's not that I blame you for getting involved. I was worried. I believed I could do it. If they had gotten me with this--" Eyes back to the rod, a flash of anger then resignation. She could be angry, but what would she do if struck by this? Wanda had at times wanted to get rid of what she could do, but the thought now terrified her. Because it wasn't something EXTRA, her powers were part of who she was. "Thank you. ....I don't believe I've said anything wrong," she remarked, straightening up and reaching out towards him - slowly, carefully. Slender fingers gently reaching for his cheek and a mark she couldn't tell was blood or dirt or shadow; her eyes seeking his for consent or approval and then forging ahead either way to wipe it off. "I still think you dived in without thinking. But thank you. Because you did help. I'm not here to take on the weight of everything myself, nor arrogant enough to do everything without any assistance. This time, I just thought I could spare you that. But again, that's silly. Since we're both here, that weight is shared for now."

A little smirk now, hands brushing his cheek and lingering before dropping, "Though please know, when you’re next in trouble I get to dash in with might heroics. No need to thank me when it happens, I know you'll appreciate it." Joking. Not joking? They really were sharing the burden of these fights now. And if she was there she would help. She shouldn't have started the argument of him joining in the first place, because she was a hypocrite. She'd absolutely have done the same. (though, fine, fine, perhaps she'd have more of a plan)

A pause, a nonchalant shrug, “And for the record, I’m not scared you’re going to be a mess. I just hate cleaning up after you.” Okay, perhaps still a slight smirk on her face, a glint of amusement finally creeping into her eyes. Of course, he’d rather hit the nail on the head with that comment but she didn’t need to validate it even if it was true.

#writteninscarlet #r : ll it's us against consensus #queue

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