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swampthingking · 1 year

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The First Crack on the Glass

Jean is welcomed to SCU with open arms, and he has no idea how to feel about it.

CW: suicidal thoughts, mentions of past SA, mentions of past abuse, this is Jean Moreau we’re talking about here

Jean Moreau had been a ghost for five months.

He had been a ghost his entire life, really. A shadow. A pawn. Property.

Never allowed to speak, never allowed to have an opinion. Only allowed to sit there, Jean. Take it.

But this was different. This was all consuming, this was internal.

Who was Jean without the Ravens? Without him?

His sense of self was nonexistent. It was beaten and fucked and broken out of him years ago.

But now, he reminded himself with a breath so deep that his chest cramped, he was out. He was free.

As free as he could be, with his abuse still following him. His violence hovering above Jean’s head like a guillotine. Jean had spent his life on his back, strapped beneath the blade, anticipating the next time it dropped. Forced to watch it fall.

“Jean?”

Her voice was sweet. Kind.

Abby had taken care of him, despite his best efforts to tell her to fuck off, let me be. Let me die. Let the infection burn me from the inside. Let it kill me.

The sharp objects and medications and anything resembling a rope were hidden from him after that.

“David’s gonna take you to the airport, okay?”

She never opened the door without his permission. She never snuck into his room. She never questioned when he woke up dry heaving.

Jean opened the door. His bag was already slung over a shoulder. The rest of his things were at the Nest. All of his belongings, not that they were sentimental. But his books. Sketchbooks. His journals. The only life he’d ever had was there.

And he hadn’t had a choice in being transferred over to USC. Another business transaction. Another trade. Another object.

Abby put a hand to his cheek before he could spiral. She was good at that; noticing when he looked miserable. He hated how much he craved touch, despite how much he had experienced under heavy hands. Hated how much he wanted to relax into it, despite his immediate tension. His relationship with touch was nuanced and troublesome, and every day was a battle where he shooed it away, but it always came slinking back like a stray cat you made the mistake of feeding once.

He ate out of Abby’s hand anyways.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispers. Her eyes are so kind. Jean can admit, at least to himself, that he’s softened his edges a bit for her. This woman, this small but mighty woman, who has nurtured him despite his rage and ugliness; she hadn’t given up.

Jean grunts, almost a laugh, but not really. He didn’t have the energy to pretend. He was too busy suppressing how much he was going to miss her.

David Wymack doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s hesitant, at least with him. Jean can’t say the same for the rest of Wymack’s team. For Kevin, to whom he barks, “Get the fuck out of my face. And put your seatbelt on.”

Kevin and Renee are in the back of the car. One of them had moved from the passenger’s seat to the back, and Jean knew that because the passenger seat was still warm when he sat down.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Renee smiled when she saw him, said hello with her lilting voice, and Kevin stared at him. Kevin had been staying at Abby’s, unfortunately. Jean didn’t know where the rest of them were. Kevin had told him they usually stayed at Abby’s over the summer, but they were staying at another place because Jean was there. Jean didn’t care.

He did care, at first, when Kevin told him that. Jean had sprung from the bed and started to pack as soon as the words left Kevin’s mouth. The thought of sharing a space with the people who had stolen him from his home, now infiltrating the space that was starting to feel safe made him feel physically ill. Kevin stopped him from packing, informing him that they were staying somewhere called Columbia.

They settled into silence. Wymack was playing whatever popular radio station was on. Jean didn’t care what happened.

On the way to the airport, Jean wondered about the probability of another car hitting them in order for only Jean to be killed. If it was possible for another car to slam into only the passenger side, so he would be the only one affected. He thought about it the whole way there. Replayed it on a loop. It was comforting.

The airport wasn’t very busy, and Jean only stuck around to say thank you before he turned his back on Wymack, Renee, and Kevin.

He didn’t have a checked bag, so he went through security. It was fine. He had a bottle of water in his bag that he’d forgotten about, and he had to be patted down. That was not so fine, but Jean allowed his eyes to glaze over. Allowed himself to float until the TSA agent cleared him.

They disposed of the water bottle.

He put his shoes back on.

He sat at the gate.

He boarded the plane. Took the window seat.

He watched the clouds. Wondered if the plane would crash. Wondered if it would be painful.

He fell asleep. Woke up nauseous, with the taste of someone’s fingers in his mouth. Down his throat.

The woman in the middle seat was asleep on her husband’s shoulder.

Just a dream.

Even in his sleep, he can’t have any peace.

Jean waited outside in the California air. It was hot. He was tired. He had slept for a few hours, but he still felt like his body would give out any minute.

“Hey, Jean!”

Jeremy Knox was in front of him, waving a hand in his face. Jean hadn’t seen or heard him approach, which seems preposterous because Jeremy Knox is one of the most obnoxious individuals he’d ever seen. He’d only played against him and watched him on TV. He had never had an actual conversation with him, but that was enough of an impression.

His exuberance was disturbing. His zest for life, immature. His golden hair, unkempt.

“You don’t have a checked bag?”

Jean shook his head.

Jeremy said, “That’s alright,” with that smile. It showed so many teeth. It was genuine. Jean hated it.

Jean stood, and Jeremy’s head tipped back to follow as Jean raised himself to his full height, almost a foot taller than Jeremy.

“Wow, forgot how tall you were. Wow. Very tall. You ready?” Jeremy turned and led them to his car. Jean followed obediently. He reminded himself that Riko is dead. He doesn’t have to obey anyone. But he did it anyway. It was ingrained into him.

“Okay, let’s go. Are you hungry? You look like you’re about to fall asleep. The flight was, what, seven hours? You’re probably starving.”

He wasn’t. He could barely eat. Could barely keep it down. Jean didn’t answer, because he had an inkling that Jeremy wasn’t done.

“We have food in the dorm. Not much, but we can get you something on the way back. Do you want a coffee or anything?”

“We?” Jean said.

Jeremy looked perplexed. “Yeah. We. We’re roommates.”

Jean distracted himself by getting into the car, only to avoid Jeremy’s eyes for a moment. Jean hadn’t expected to live privately, of course, but he hadn’t expected his roommate to be Jeremy Knox either.

Somewhere deep in his subconscious, he hears Kevin’s voice telling him about it. How Kevin had specifically asked Jeremy to room with Jean, and Jeremy agreed for some reason.

Jean must have forgotten. Or ignored Kevin. Or not have cared enough to retain it.

“No one told you?”

“Forgot,” Jean mumbled, looking out the window. He’d only said a few words today, and he was exhausted.

“That’s okay! I forget stuff all the time. I think I have ADHD.”

Jean didn’t answer. Jeremy didn’t stop talking.

There was a banner. And balloons. And flowers on the coffee table. A smaller vase of flowers on the counter. And a cake.

“Bienvenue, Jean!” the banner read.

“SCU Trojans #29” the cake read.

He could see Jeremy’s smile in his periphery. Wide as always, but a little hesitant. A bit shy.

Jean scanned the room. Maybe this was there for Jeremy. The other Trojans must have set this up for him. Maybe Jean was standing here dumbfounded at something that was absolutely not meant for him.

But it was. The cake had Jean’s number on it. The banner said his name.

And Jeremy was vibrating. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave Jean a chance to say something.

Jean didn’t know what to say. He stood near the door, strangling the straps of his duffle.

Riko would have popped him in the back of the head by now. Riko would have made a nasty comment about being ungrateful. Riko would have made him beg for forgiveness, and tell him all the things he was thankful for, because Riko is the one who allowed him nice things. “Nice” things. Like being allowed to live.

But Riko was dead. No matter how much Jean lived in fear that he’s actually alive somewhere, in hiding. That he’s going to come back into Jean’s life the second he began to live. But for now at least, he’s dead.

Jeremy looks like he wants to scream.

“I’m so sorry if it’s too much!” He finally breaks, face red either with embarrassment or from repressing his excitement. “I just wanted you to feel special. We’re all really excited for you to be here, Jean. I didn’t know what kind of cake you liked. Or even if you like cake. Shit,” Jeremy blanched. “Do you like cake?”

Jean blinked. Jeremy was staring up at him, assessing him like he could find the answer to do you like cake? written across his face. He must not have found it, because his next thoughts were spewing from his mouth before Jean could even process the question.

“Okay, well it’s here if you like it. It’s half vanilla and half chocolate, because I wasn’t sure what kind you liked.” Jeremy walked over to the small vase of flowers on the kitchen counter, fluffing them as he spoke. “And I tried not to get any flowers that people have allergies to. So there’s no lilies or roses or anything. I didn’t… I didn’t know if you were allergic to anything. Oh God,” he pulled back. “There are sunflowers though. Are people allergic to sunfl— Shit.”

Jeremy put his head in his hands, like the sunflowers are going to take years off of his life. “This is going horribly. I should have checked. Do you feel stuffy or anything?”

Jeremy then crossed the floor, determinately invading Jean’s personal space. Before Jean could flinch, Jeremy put the back of his hand on Jean’s forehead to assess if he was feverish, as if that’s how anaphylactic shock works.

“I’m…” Jean started, taking a step back, away from Jean’s hand. He ended up against the door.

He wasn’t sure what he was. He wasn’t sure what to say. The thought of Jeremy and the Trojans organizing this was jarring. The thought of Jeremy stressing about if Jean liked cake, and what flavors he might like. The banners. The flower arrangements, two of them. The balloons that yelled Welcome!

It all made Jean feel like he couldn’t breathe. It cracked the apathy beaten into him; the apathy he clung to to survive. This display was a pebble on a windshield, but it woke Jean up a bit. Chipped the glass.

To his absolute horror, his complete humiliation— Jean will blame this on the long trip and the harrowing flight and the human interaction for years— his throat seized. His vision blurred.

Jeremy had stepped back, waiting, looking up at Jean with a palm over either of his own cheeks.

“It’s really…” Jean didn’t have the words. So he nodded, unceremoniously. He felt like he should’ve said more. He couldn’t.

But it must have been enough. Jeremy’s grin could have lit heaven.

#jerejean #jean moreau #jeremy knox #all for the gay #all for the game #aftg #aftg fanfic #jerejean fic #I love them so much #Jean my beloved #jeremy is an angel #aftg fic #swampy writes #tsc #the sunshine court

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resolvebound · 1 year

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About Page | Tags | Trivia

History:

As one of the Exceed eggs that was sent to Earthland in X778, he hatched alone in a large forest. It didn't take long for some manner of creature to come by and startle him into fleeing and hiding, sending him eventually to the edge of the forest where a small town was settled. The sounds, scents, and people were almost overwhelming to him, yet not enough to scare him back to the forest. He sought shelter in the quietest building he came across, the library. Here, he felt safe.

The librarian, an elderly and kind gentleman named Terrence, found him and coaxed him into coming forward. Terrence cared for him and named him Lector, after one of his favourite scholars. After a little while, it became apparent that Lector was no ordinary cat, that he could potentially talk and fly. Terrence was thrilled to teach him to read and write, encouraging a love of reading and learning. When Lector was a few years old, Terrence decided to enrol him at the local school to help him make friends and socialise.

Lector’s intelligence, and already substantial pool of knowledge, made him swiftly rise to the top of the class. He aced all the tests, and to the chagrin of one of the oldest boys in the class, was found to be adorable by the girls around. Lector’s life began to get difficult from that point. The boy disliked the attention Lector got, and was further incensed when Lector would at times correct him or point out something he was doing wrong. Lector was only trying to help, but it was not well received.

The boy and his friends took to making fun of Lector and pushing him around at any opportunity. One day, they made fun of his wings and how he never seemed to use them (Lector didn’t have very good control of them, they would burst out whenever he was startled or excited, sometimes even just when he sneezed!). The bullies taunted him and challenged him to prove himself by flying a dangerous course. Lector, hoping to earn his place and put an end to the bullying, attempted the course.

It did not go well. He crashed and they laughed at him, soon scattering as it became apparent that he was injured. Lector eventually made his way back home to the library. As he recovered, Terrance asked what had happened, but Lector refused to talk about it, feeling foolish. Terrance, though concerned, did not press the issue, and instead gave Lector collections of stories that he thought might inspire him, books about heroes and bravery.

Sometime after Lector recovered, Terrence fell ill and passed away, leaving Lector alone. The bullying continued and Lector took solace in the books and heroic stories left to him. He dreamed of becoming as strong and capable as the characters in his books. So, when he then began to hear of a new kid around that was strong with magic, he was of course interested. He soon found him, a blond boy, clearly skilled already. Intrigued but wary, Lector watched from a distance at first, soon witnessing the boy standing up to and scaring off the kids that had given Lector so much trouble himself. Lector gathered his courage and followed the boy, requesting to become his apprentice, hoping to learn how to be strong and brave. The two have been together ever since.

Personality:

Lector’s self-confidence grew alongside his friendship with Sting. With such steadfast belief in his best friend, he began to become rather arrogant, as seen in his first appearances throughout the GMG arc. Seeing the battle between the four dragon slayers during the games end in a draw (this follows my canon div for Rogue along with other RP partners divs for the same event), Lector was shaken. He had never seen Sting struggle or be so evenly matched, aside from with Rogue, but what truly stood out to Lector was the way Sting tried for his sake, to honour the promise made long ago. Following the battle and talking with Sting, Lector came to understand that it didn’t matter what the rest of the world thought about either of them, he still believed in Sting and they had each other, that was all that mattered. There was almost a relief to be had, and an acknowledgement that they could both still learn more and achieve more. He was proud of Sting (and Rogue too for that matter), and that was what pushed him to speak to Jiemma on their behalf (which, as we all know, did not go well…).

Later, having seen what Sting went through in the battle, and having faced the possibility of death himself (not to mention then seeing dragons invade the city), Lector reassessed himself and became a little more humble, stripping back some of the arrogance he had walled himself up with and showing more of his true self.

Lector is, at his core, incredibly loyal and well-meaning. He favours logical and practical approaches and can be relied on to have a sensible suggestions, but on the other hand, logic flies out the window when it comes to his friends. He protects and supports them with everything he has, even if it means putting himself in harms way or going against his better instincts. He is slow to warm up to most people, as he and Sting never tended to get too involved with other people over the years and he doesn’t trust easily, however once he deems someone worthy, he is all in. He likes to help others, and in fact sometimes can’t resist helping, which can at times be taken the wrong way. Since the X791 GMG, he has tried to become more open to others.

Misc:

He addresses most people with a title – Mrs, Ma’am, Miss, Mister etc, as he was raised to do so by Terrence as a matter of manners. He uses such titles with strangers, and with people he respects only. He did address Sting as “Mister Sting” for quite a while when they first met. (this is me side-stepping his use of honorifics in canon). Once he is close with someone (or they request it), he drops the title.

Terrence also taught him a lot about tactfulness in the hopes of curbing some of Lector’s troubles with people viewing him as a know-it-all. Lector tries to think before he speaks and usually does well with it.

Obviously, there are limits to his physical capabilities and his hopes of becoming as strong as Sting were short lived, however, he did his own type of training with Sting in order to become a skilled flier and was successful.

He loves strategy games like chess. He loves an intellectual challenge. He has always known that his biggest asset is his mind.

On the same note, he loves crossword puzzles and puzzles in general as they use the brain and he doesn’t have to be ‘strong’ to have fun with and be good at them.

He has excellent handwriting due to learning from Terrence.

He really enjoys drawing and has become very skilled at it. He initially took up the hobby, alongside writing, with the goal of recording Sting’s adventures and achievements in a book.

He loves cooking and food in general and is highly interested in recipes from different cultures and areas. He tends to (subconsciously) associate a person’s cooking skill with if they are a good person or not, as Terrence was a very good cook.

He most definitely has nightmares about Jiemma and about being alone.

He has a variety of different vests, but tends to wear the light blue one the most as blue is one of his favourite colours.

#portrayal notes tag #❰ ⧓ ― headcanon. lector. ❱#🥰

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elkenbulwark · 9 months

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@wildskissed cont.

While the beast's head was far larger than Scratch's, Birvor still managed to clasp the jawline with some semblance of familiarity. Of course, big, drooly mouths that were primed to pick and choose portions of his face to munch on was a far cry from that of one that simply left a rubber ball coated in slime before leaving the unfortunate combo inside one's bedroll to find later stuck to one's thigh. Granted, the hasty hold didn't surge with the usual fervor he could muster in the heat of battle, but perhaps that was for the best because when he actually got a good look at what had dragged him back to camp, he felt the same sort of cowed amazement stirring within his chest that also afflicted him the first time he'd heard of some legendary dragon that supposedly slept under Baldur's Gate.

A black panther was not something one just came across- though he supposed it had come across him moreso, which made the odds even...well, odder. He almost couldn't believe it- but the scalding heat of the big cat's tongue giving his cheek a lap so proper it rightly knocked his attempt to sit up and regard the surreal encounter back down again onto his bedroll. Further disoriented by the affectionate jarring, he made an attempt to follow the panther with his eyes as a hand reached up to rub at the light and lasting tingle the thing's sandpapery tongue had left behind. The panther's next words (if they could be referred to as such without a mouth mulling them over) were the catalyst he needed to croak out a hoarse attempt at words. "-Wait... that means you-... you're-?" But before he could confirm his stunned suspicions, the panther turned and left him just as soon as it had seemingly found him face down in the grave dirt.

When Eve came into the tent, he was still trying to wrap whatever bit of oxygen he'd recovered in his head around the fact he probably just spoke with the actual Drizzt Du'Orden's faithful familiar. He almost didn't notice her at first, heady with the dedication aimed towards delusions, but her flippant remark drew his head sideways on the bedroll, and the cooling of the shadow cursed air convinced him to leave his throat and it's bruising brand exposed for lack of a better way to cool the stinging. Though all he earned for the self-soothing attempt was the sting of the wet rag pressed to the garrote's indention.

He opened his mouth to return the remark back at her with his own portion of pettiness to share, but he ended up coughing on a dry throat and so he had to settle for taking the cup she offered and throwing back a messy gulp or two of the water before he could properly give her a piece of his mind...just with his mouth this go 'round. "Can tell you're real dissapoin'td over that. Good." Huff issued, he waited for the first drink to settle in his stomach before trying to coax the last few drops puddled at the bottom of the glass out with a sturdy shake that only served to wet his tusks. Still on the hoarse side, he couldn't wait for more water to launch into the next order of business- namely the restless sort of stirring an ill and bed-bound child would resort to, especially when she kept dabbing away at his throat like said child's mother with spit and handkerchief.

"That wasn't no ord'nary panther-" He insisted, issuing her a pouty sort of complaint- both at her not realizing that, and for her fussing overhead while he couldn't get away from her proper. "That was THE panther. That was Guenhwyvrkkk-" Well, there went all the moisture in his throat again, leaving him hacky and voiceless and projecting once more. [Those damnable Meazles-]

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dawngen · 1 year

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dawnclan has 80+ cats now, which is insane to try and manage, and i haven't yet decided if i am going to manually trim it down or let the game do so... but we have reached 100+ moons as well! the era of the first round of cats will be closing soon and focusing more on the following generation (which would be brightstorm, eagleburn, etc.) after i wrap up all of the drabbles i have planned.

in the meantime, here are some Very Pretty Kitties(TM) from this huge clan.

BISMUTHFANG. abandoned by his twolegs, he was brought back by members of the clan out on patrol to be nursed back to health. in gratitude, he chose to stay even after being taken back to a local twoleg nest.

SPLINTERWATCHER. a grandkit of one of the original clan founders (ghoststripe), his legacy lives on in the form of her and her brother, harecatcher. nobody speaks a whisper of it, but it is known that her father is a grassclan tom. smokeylaurel refuses to explain herself when asked in private, and for the time being, darkstar has chosen not to scrutinize this obvious breaking of the warrior code.

LOGPAW. another kit of creekberry and slatespots' empire family. surviving an outbreak of kittencough, logpaw was the lucky one, as her sister, timberkit, passed after a two moon battle with the sickness. as a result, while having no lingering illness in her, she's extra doted on by her parents and siblings--which can be overwhelming when you're a family of over fifteen cats. her goal is to become the fiercest, most ferocious warrior dawnclan has ever seen to combat this.

SAPBEAK. daughter of petuniadapple, one of the current medicine cats, sapbeak was taken by twolegs just after her warrior ceremony. in the last moon, she managed to return, citing her intense desire to see her father again. she struggles to be allowed out of his sight, especially when returning to her duties, but secretly adores the attention.

BEAVERPELT. another slatespots' grandchild, a shock! a quiet, reserved young she-cat with a knack for taking care of kits and young apprentices. secretly, she doesn't really like the life of a warrior, and wants to be an assistant in the nursery. she enjoys discussing the latest clan happenings with her grandmother, creekberry, in the elders' den.

#find it hilarious in hindsight how logpaw and timberkit were named #i did not do that that was just some surprising name coordination

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xonerose · 2 years

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Update: Hey, uh, fellow cat book nerds.

My absence has been caused by my deteriorating mental health, the past months have been some of the worst for my mental health. I’ve always struggled with depression and mental illness in general, even when I was dropping my warrior cats designs art consistently I was having a rough time at home. Unfortunately, those rough times escalated and I found I was emotionally unstable and unable to motivate myself to do draw.

Initially I wanted to power through this feeling. So I started giving myself work on this blog (ask Icestrike, warrior cats designs) hoping that the fear of letting my followers down would motivate me to draw even when I had no desire to do anything for myself anymore. Instead, I had just caused more stress for myself upon my graduation that was happening at the time and I shut everybody out of my life.

(I graduated btw — I was also placed in 2 group homes since my foster family moved away.)

Up until recently, I was miserable and neglected myself. I didn’t feed or clean myself and left my new group home unit a mess. I’m not sure what has changed recently that has me feeling less awful, and I don’t want to make any concrete promises, but I’m thinking of coming back and drawing battle cats again soon.

I apologize for my absence, I truly do appreciate and admire my followers and anyone who finds my art or ideas fun or enjoyable. I didn’t think I’d ever reach as many people as I did with my cat drawings. The Warrior Cats community has been part of my life for so long and I’m happy to come back to it. Thank you all. I hope you stick around to see me post silly cat art.

#onerose speaks #not cat art

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cat-alyzing · 2 years

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Into the Wild == Important Notes

(Working title- first book of TPB, Rusty joins TC)

Rusty joins TC after he is tackled by Graypaw, this impresses the warriors who come out of the forest and Whitestorm, Lionheart, and Bluestar ask if he wants to join. He does and they go back to camp.

Bluestar announces his joining and Longtail taunts Rusty, who then leaps at him and does quite well with his collar snapping off in the end. This convinces Blue and she named him Firepaw. Just after this Ravenpaw comes into camp and announces Redtail’s death.

He explains how it happened. Their patrol was attacked by RC cats at sunningrocks before collapsing. Tigerclaw comes into camp after him dragging the body of Redtail who he says was killed by Oakheart who he murdered in retaliation. Graypaw explains Starclan to Firepaw at the deputy’s funeral, Lionheart is made deputy after and makes Darkstripe Dustpaw’s new mentor.

On his first day of training Lionheart and Tigerclaw watch over him and Graypaw. He is shown the borders, landmarks, and the other clans. It is the night of the gathering so by the time they get home Bluestar, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw leave to go to the gathering while Firepaw and Graypaw stay behind in camp.

Two moons have passed and Firepaw is on his first solo hunting patrol, he misses his vole and attacks the cat who messed him up before realizing it’s Graypaw. They go on a walk and spot a fox as well as a SC patrol. Graypaw goes back to alert Bluestar and Firepaw follows the scent of a rogue when he finds Yellowfang. She attacks him but loses as she’s starving and sickly, Firepaw spares her and feeds her some prey. But when found he is scolded by Bluestar and Yellowfang is taken back to TC camp to be treated for her wounds and illness.

When back to camp Yellowfang tells how SC took over WC territory and cats worry they will come after TC next. Bluestar officially takes Firepaw as her apprentice and Tigerclaw objects but she shushes him. He is punished by being told he’d care for Yellowfang while she was in their care. A while passes but at last he is freed from his punishment. Fire, Gray and Raven are assessed on their skills and pass but while hunting he finds Smudge and tells him about his new life. Tigerclaw catches him and when they come back he tells Bluestar who asks Fire if he’d like to go back to his softer life but he declines. The three apprentices are chosen to go the the gathering.

At the gathering he is told about the ancient clans by Lionheart, Ravenpaw tells what happened at sunningrocks and notably it’s pretty diffrent from what Tigerclaw said, Tiger overhears this and is visibly angry. Finally the gathering starts. Brokenstar demands the other clans let SC hunt in their grounds, Crookedstar aggress but Bluestar doesn’t give a answer. He then tells about a dangerous rouge who TC presumes is Yellowfang and they decide to get rid of her. Firepaw runs ahead to war her and he does but soon after Tigerclaw and Darkstripe attack her tho Bluestar breaks it up. She tells of Brokenstar’s demands and they should prepare to fight, but she need to go to the moonstone with the apprentices.

Firepaw has a dream about fighting cats. Finally Bluestar, Tiger, Fire, Gray, and Raven go to the moonstone. They rest and hunt as they wait for nightfall. While going into the cave Tiger turns around and flees from fear, Blue and Fire get there but when she awakes she demands they go back to camp right now. They leave swiftly, meeting Barely on the way who warns of dogs so they go a different route but are instead attacked by rats. Blue loses a life, Tiger blames Barley but after asks her how am by she has left where she says she has just four lives left

As they get back to TC they see SC attacking the camp. Yellowfang defends the nursery from Blackfoot, Rosetail and Lionheart die in battle but eventually SC flees. Tigerclaw is appointed deputy and Ravenpaw suggest he had something to do with Redtail’s death. But Tiger overhears and Raven gets panicked. When a meeting is called Yellowfang is made a permanent TC member and Tigerclaw suggest their is a cat in their ranks who helped SC plan the attack, as well as appointing himself and his friends as Bluestar’s bodyguards.

A bit later Spottedleaf tells Firepaw about the prophecy she received. Bluestar and Tigerclaw take Fire, Gray, and Raven for battle training where he forgets to tell Bluestar about Ravenpaw. When they return to camp Ravenapw is missing and him and Graypaw are worried Tiger and Co did something to him but he returns smelling of SC. Worried he says that Tigerclaw made him hunt in SC territory before telling them that Tiger was the one who killed Redtail at sunningrocks after the previous deputy had killed Oakheart.

Just after this Brindleface has her kits (Ash, Fern, Tulip, and Elder). Bluestar reveals she actually only has two loves left. Frostfur’s kits go missing and no one can find them only to find Spottedleaf’s dead body and Yellowfang to be missing. TC suspects Yellowfamg took the kits and killed Spottedleaf but a harsh storm breaks out and the cats can’t go after her. Bluestar sends Firepaw to go after her and he brings Graypaw and Ravenpaw with him. As they get away from camp Firepaw suggests Ravenpaw leave the clans for his safety, suggesting he got live with Barley and when they get back to camp he’ll tell Tigerclaw that he’d died somehow.

The rain stops and him and Graypaw track Yellowfang who is actually tracking the kits scents herself. She says Clawface took them and Brokenstar has been taking kits and making them warriors far too young. A TC patrol approaches and they hide but after making a plan to rally against SC they come out and convince the patrol that Yellowfang is innocent. Yellowfang arrived with three SC elders who want to overthrow Brokenstar. They plan a open attack on the SC camp to take back the stolen kits.

The cats raid SC. Brokenstar flees worn his supports being Clawface, Stumpytail, Tangleburr and some silver tabby. Frostfur’s kits are found and rescued. Nightpelt assumes the role of leader and Yellowfang decides to stay in TC.

The party returns to TC and Yellowfang explains her innocence and why she was banished as well as the crimes Brokenstar commited. Firepaw says Ravenpaw died, and Whitestorm says Fire and Gray fought well. The two are named Fireheart and Graystripe and sit vigil all night but are watched closely by Tigerclaw.

#into the wild #tpb cliffnotes #This is for my own use but for anyone else who would like them #the prophesies begin #Not tagging all the cats no way

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universallychaoticpan · 2 years

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OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH! i hope this isn’t too bothering, i don’t know how many requests you get so if it’s too much don’t feel the need to do this! i was hoping you could write a scenario for aot in which the reader is apart of the new levi squad and the 104th cadet corps, set during the time between season 2 & 3 where they were in hiding in that one cabin? the reader is kind and reliable and doesn’t necessarily ask for help, but one day they fall ill with a sickness and everyone is kind of just surprised with how vulnerable and open they become? i was hoping for maybe a platonic/parental relationship between levi and the reader, where he takes care of them while they’re ill and just in general a fluffy kind of angsty story with everyone? i feel like this is so long, sorry!! i just let my imagination run wild and this is probably unorganized, feel free to twist it to fit something better formatted!

Hello there, and thank you so much, both for your sweet words and for requesting!! I am not often swamped with requests though I would love to be, so this is a pleasure to write. :)) Some good ol' comfort for the soul, coming right up; hope you enjoy, and feel free to drop into my inbox any time. <333

Anyone who knew you could say that, despite how much you kept to yourself, you were as reliable as they came. You were trustworthy and ready to prove yourself; no one knew too much about you, but it didn't make them wary. You were kind and easy to like; after a time, even Mikasa found herself taking a liking to you. From that moment on, she became a sort of sister to you. In turn, you were brought into the fold of the cadets, finally becoming a part of something since the day your parents had died. They could all see your strength; how you got up every day without question, wiped the sweat from your brow without complaint, how every bruise and cut you sustained was brushed aside when Krista tried to help you- and then, how it was bandaged and cleaned no later than the next day. You took care of yourself, and the ones around you; it was safe to say that Jean wouldn't soon forget the day you'd gotten him out of a particularly rough spot: an abnormal titan in the trees, stalking him as he tried to keep an eye on it, and a broken sword in his hand. Using him as bait, you'd been able to kill the beat with ease, then helped him back to base.

And now, you found yourself among friends; people you trusted, as Levi's new squad.

The stoic captain himself, following his cousin's footsteps, had taken an odd liking to you after a while as well. Almost like a stray cat, you would slip away from the others and find your quiet places to call your own and then wander back. You followed orders swiftly and well; you got on with others, and they cared for you as much as you did for them. You were someone who he liked to talk to; sometimes sharing tea with you after supper when the others were out. But he could see, perhaps more than the others did, how much you were hiding. Sure, it was obvious to every idiot that you didn't say everything, that you survived and let your sleeping dogs lie. But that was exactly your problem: they didn't lie, and they didn't sleep. He could see it, through the rare flashes of fear in your eyes, when memory came to snap at your heels. He saw it when he would find you awake and silent in the middle of the night, sitting out in the threshold of the door; when you would turn at the sound of his footsteps and hurriedly brush your tears away rush back to your room with a muttered apology. He could see it each and every time a titan approached; how you would tense, your body stiff, before gritting your teeth and leading the charge into battle. Never had he gotten a chance to tell you it was alright; not like he wanted to anyway. Against his better judgement, he found himself wanting to look after you.

And it was a cold day in February when he got his chance. The snow had fallen, thick and heavy, along the ground, keeping you and your friends in constant argument over who's turn it was to fetch the fire wood. more often than not, you would volunteer to help, to grateful sighs of relief that had Levi rolling his eyes. But that particular day, you awoke in the middle of the night, freezing and unable to breathe. Coughing and hacking, you heard Sasha roll over as she woke up not far away, your lungs gratefully taking in air once it was possible. You tossed and turned for hours, fever and nausea setting in before sleep overtook you when the birds outside the windows began to sing. Blinking yourself awake, you almost jumped to see a pair bright copper eyes peering down at you.

"You look like hell," Sasha chirped. "You ok?"

"Not in the least," you groaned. "I can barely move and-"

She was gone in a second, running out the door to your shared room and leaving you to wallow.

"Thanks a lot," you muttered. Still, the quiet was nice; and all you wanted was to lay somewhere quiet....

Which became an impossibility when she returned: this time, with the rest of the former-cadets in tow. Connie promptly took his place at the foot of your bed, while Krista pressed a cool hand against your forehead. As for the rest, they crowded around you in a circle so tight you wouldn't be able to see past them even if you could lift your head.

"You have at least a fever for sure, but I have no idea how bad it could be." The blonde muttered to herself, the others throwing out suggestions as to what it could be. Finally, that came to an end when the captain appeared in the doorway.

"No one is going to die," he sighed, already exasperated beyond belief. "As long as you get out of here and get to work. The hell are you brats in here for anyway?" Parting, your companions allowed the captain to approach your bed; even to him, it was still a shock to see you so...vulnerable.

"Out. Now. I'll stay with them."

Without another word, save for a muttered curse from Jean, which was quickly stifled by a searing glance from the captain, they filed out, leaving you with Levi staring at you. You really did look like hell.

"You just had to go and get sick, didn't you."

"Well I'm not exactly happy about it either, captain."

He stopped, freezing in place completely, before he smiled. "Even sick you're an intolerable little smart ass. Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"

"Can't," you replied. "No matter how hard I try. Any ideas?"

He sighed, pulling a chair up beside you and lifting the glass of water on your bedside table to your lips. You drank gratefully, the liquid soothing your throat at least a little, while Levi made sure none dripped onto your sheets before he shook his head. "Not like I have much experience with sleep anyway."

"Well don't let me bother you. I'm sure the others are halfway to hell knowing them."

With that you closed your eyes again, and it was silent for a moment. You assumed he'd gone, it was so hushed.

And then he asked; "Why do you do that?"

"Hm?"

"You don't let people care about you. I've noticed it."

"Well you're awfully chatty, captain. What brought this on?"

He ignored your question, fixing his severe eyes on you.

"I'm serious, y/n. You help everyone and yet you're never open to being helped. Even now you tried to get me to go."

You were quiet for a moment before you answered and it betrayed you. "It's not anyone's job to care about me," you shrugged, coughing a little. "I'm alright on my own, but I'm not about to leave someone else out to dry."

You finished, simply looking at the man sitting beside you. But despite himself, or because of the melancholy in your voice when you replied, he found another question bubbling up from inside him; he hated himself for it, but there it was.

"Why are you here?"

There it was; that sadness, that fear, that hit you from time to time. He'd woken it up.

He regretted it as soon as it had been said.

"Im sorry I-"

"It's fine. If I'm going to tell anyone, it may as well be you."

Slowly, he sat, and your eyes got far away. And then, like thawing rivers, it all came falling out:

"My parents died in the fall of Wall Maria; they owned a few businesses in the interior so we shouldn't have been there. But they had gone to meet with some merchant and that's why we were there; they had taken me with them since I was still young enough to need them. Then, when the wall fell, it all went to shit. My father died almost instantly. He was hit in the head with a piece of falling rock. My mother was holding his hand, and he was pulling us through the streets with me holding onto her for dear life and then I remember tripping- I remember tripping over his hand on the ground."

He could see it when you spoke; blood and gore, screaming all around you; the sounds of the world ending as the air grew thick with smoke.

"My mother kept us running," you said softly. "She had my hand so tight in hers I thought it would fall off but it didn't. I didn't stop feeling her hand until the moment she got me onto one of the escape boats. I kept her hand in mine until the moment she made me leave her behind. I never saw her again, even after I made my way back to the interior. There was nothing for me, so I came here.

But I don't think I'll ever forget the look my mother's face in that second. When she told me it was alright to let go and that she would find me. I knew she was lying; so did she. But I let go; and that look, the look of relief and fear, will haunt me forever.

You said it so readily, your expression not happy and not sad. It was simply what you knew, and it made him ache. You had every reason to hate the world; to be cold and detached, to refuse to try to be close to anyone again. But you didn't. You found your place, and you cared, and still, you wouldn't let anyone help you.

"Dammit brat," he chuckled, though there was no joy in the sound. "Leave it to someone like you to get me caring."

"Why the hell would you-"

"Because we're the same. In more ways than you think. I lost everyone I loved, watched my mother die in before me; I lived in the most ruthless places within the walls and I took care of myself. I survived. But unlike you, when I came here, I became who I am now. And you're too good to end up like me."

"I already told you, it's not anyone's job to look after me; least of all yours-"

"And I'm telling you here and now that it's not a job. Everyone in this place has someone watching their back on the field; you're the only one who is missing that when we're off of it." Despite his words, his voice was kind; it shocked you, your weak body warming pleasantly in spite of your apprehension. And when you felt your eyes sting with tears, you felt yourself break open just a bit. Without hesitation, he wiped them away gently, the care he put into the simple gesture tearing you apart.

"It's alright," he murmured. He sat by your side as you cried, quiet with his hand on yours. He sat there while you began to doze off, not moving an inch even when your breaths had evened out and your face had relaxed.

Watching you then, at your most vulnerable, he felt whatever feelings he had for you swell inside him. It wasn't romantic; not at all. But her found himself seeing too much of himself in you already. How you were isolated, even among others. How you gave your all even when it hurt. How even at your weakest, you tried to be strong for someone else's sake. And he wanted to be strong for you in the moments you no longer could; for the first time in a long time, he could feel himself begin to care. And for the first time ever, the budding love he had for you, the one that made him imagine a world where you could be safe, out weighed his fear. For the first time, he understood what people meant when they said they were fighting for a better world for their children. For the families. Saying such things meant being so devoted to someone that you would be ok never waking up again if it meant they would live. And now, he knew that he wanted that world; the one where you no longer had to be strong this way.

He wanted a world where you could be young; he wanted you to have all the things the world had cheated you out of.

A home.

A place.

A family.

And he knew it was possible every time he saw you smile; he saw you youth in you, the joy, the love that you had. He wanted that always;

He wanted to see you live.

#levi x reader fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi comfort #aot fluff

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Azriel x reader - enemies to mututals. LONGER - Peregryn Reader and Az go on a mission together. Comebacks, snark and injuries. - azriel taking care of hurt reader.

Send me requests please!

Not a soul dared step in your way as you plowed through the war camp. "You will not be flying anywhere." You shouted over the murmuring group. Rhys' inner circle whipped their heads to you. Cassian's hand went to the dagger at his side instantaneously. You felt the spymasters shadows curling around your ankles.

"You challenge me, I'm impressed." Rhys smiled like a cat, pushing off the table littered with pawns and a map of the region. Azriel's shadows curled further up your legs, taking the hint from his high lord. "Your spymasters eyes and ears seem to be doing an inadequate job." You said with distaste, glaring at Azriel. You tucked your feathered wings in tight, tension in the room spiking. Darkness flared, Azriels' shadows spiking over your legs, swirling angrily.

Rhysand considered for a moment. None of the eyes left you. You dared not look away from the high lord. The piercing eyes of The Morrigan burned into you. Her silver armor shone even in the dull tent. "Leave us." He said at last, with a wave of his hand. His counterparts glanced at him, before obeying and walking out.

Azriel stayed put, the shadows still circling the room like a fog.

"I don't like being insulted, Peregryn." Azriel growled, his wings twitching.

"I dont like dying, Illyrian." You countered. His face twisted in disgust. Rhysand sighed, taking a seat at the head of the table. You felt his aura inside your head, asking, tempting. They knew not many were a fan of their court, but so far you could really see the WHY behind it.

"I understand you're a part of a different court but we are here fighting together against this threat." He spoke aloud, you felt his presence recede from your mind. "If you don't want me to see what you have seen, how am I to know to trust you?" He smiled wickedly, as if he knew you would never let him in to your head. True, the night court and autumn court were not on the friendliest of terms. Especially after Thesan had made a public enemy of you for abandoning his court to help in the fight on the continent.

"I understand fully that we are different courts, with different ideals working together. Perhaps your generals don't though." You nodded out the open flap of the tent. "Why my forces are going in first when there's an aerial threat beyond the border to Rask is beyond me. Perhaps you could explain." You said sweetly, pulling out the chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting. Azriel remained standing, his presence looming. He glanced toward Rhys, and they seemed to have a silent conversation in the looks alone. You had no doubt that he and the high lord were speaking mind to mind.

"I can assure you there was no ill intent behind it." Rhys muttered, his eyes held no trace of lies. He had no tell , no body language that would suggest other wise as he spoke plainly. "As for the aerial threat, I will find Azriel here sees to it. If you are willing to help, of course." He swirled the glass of wine on the table, taking a sip. Azriel's face went a bit red. Likely mentally shouting at the high lord. "You understand, this assures I can trust your word and you're not trying-" He took a breath, humming as he let it out. Considering. Or putting on a show. It was hard to tell what face of him was the genuine one. "Well if you would let me in I guess I would know if you had any.. intentions."

The silence seemed electrifying, Azriels shadows were swirling faster, whispering over his shoulder into his ear. His hair moved slightly in the presence of them. His siphons glowed, despite no direct threat.

You stood slowly, standing tall in the presence of the two. "You know where my tent is, Shadowsinger." His face revealed nothing at your words. Rhysand saluted you mockingly. Chin held high, you strode out of the tent.

+ As soon as the sun had dipped below the treeline enough to cast shadows through the forest Azriel had appeared at your tent. The temperature seemed to dip slightly at his presence. "If you're ready we can go." He said, voice plain outside your flap door.

"And why wouldn't I be ready, shadowmaster?" You said with a charming smile, hoping it annoyed him. While pulling on your light armor, you stalked past him and to the edge of the forest. He seemed stunned momentarily, but caught up quickly. He matched your pace with ease.

The hilly terrain made for an interesting forest pattern, but the area you remembered spotting the archers and arterillary trebuchets was very obvious. You dared not fly, with your wings so light colored against the darkened sky. "We're walking?" He asked, his wings flaring. You crunched through the brush that lined the forest edge.

"It's an aerial capture unit. They'll either shoot us down or take us prisoner until they get what they want." You said over your shoulder. "Is the Illyrian afraid of a hike?" You teased.

You heard a grunt and he was suddenly right next to you, his footsteps loud as he adjusted to the rocky slope you were heading up. "I don't like being called that, you know." He muttered, his eyes straight ahead.

Strange. Very strange for an illyrian indeed. Normally they were obnoxiously proud of their heritage like no other. It made you pause your comeback for a moment. you tried to remember the brief history of the night court you had been briefed on in training. Nothing was ever said about the high lord or his generals beyond their extraordinary abilities.

You knew the Illyrian possessiveness first hand. Anger flickered inside you, remembering what they did to their females. The abusiveness of their court when it came to yours and your winged cousins. How cruel they were in battle. You couldn't stop the thought as it raced from your lips - "Not proud of the clipping or breeding, spymaster?" You growled.

He was on you in an instant. Had you pinned against the side of the grassy knoll a second after that. The air left your body at the impact against the dirt burm. Your wings splayed out behind you on instinct, trying to balance you. His were as well, using them as extra force to hold you there. Your hand was at your dagger, but you didn't feel the need to use it, his grip loosened.

"Fuck. you." He bit out. You saw his hands as they gripped your armor. Scarred lines lay on his fingers, the back of his hands up to his wrist. They were a lighter color than the rest of his dark skin. Ridges puckering together like soft peaks of a mountain range. The sounds outside of your breathing together seemed to stop, his sharp tone silencing the woods completely. His eyes seemed like an endless pit, despair and malice under their shallow surface.

He shoved off you with a sigh, and continued down the trail. Wings snapped in tight behind him. You dusted yourself off and followed under the cover of nightfall.

+ The group of fae and beasts was getting exceedingly more and more rowdy as the night went on and the barrels of mead emptied. You didn't doubt the reason being that they thought your forces wouldn't move in the night. Not with so many foot soldiers that could be picked off in the forest by...unknown creatures. You shuddered at the thought of such things. The group was no more than thirty large, probably to winnow faster. Every pair had a weapon or a net weighted with stones that would nullify any magic. The arrows were likely poisoned as well. The trebuchet was packed with stones, boulders and what looked like wooden nails. They were planning for maximum damage.

"You take east, I'll go by the river." You whispered behind him, knowing that his shadows would pick it up if he didnt. The enemy campfire flickered in front of him, making his silhouette glow from where you crouched. His only response to your plan was a slight nod. You left him to it, creeping through the trees, avoiding leaves and fallen twigs that would make more sound than the soft pine floor. The fog of shadows whipped in a flurry around you as departed him. They stayed with you until you were firmly in the trees, the bubbling stream of the river loud enough to cover your tracks.

His signal to attack was subtle, but it worked. At first it seemed like their campfire had begun to sputter and smoke, leading to them quieting. Then, two decapitated heads were flung into the middle of the crowd circling the pit. A rustling from where Azriel originally stood had them scrambling for weapons, sticks, swords. Anything they could find. Then he sliced into three of their knees from behind. You were diving into the fray when the group had finally gotten their defenses up.

+ The snarls died out one by one. Azriel finished off the final Attor when a blinding pain in your back hit you. Your first instinct was to stab. The fae that stood behind you held your dagger in her stomach, looking you in the eye. The wooden steak at their side dropped to the ground. Her lips parted in a wicked smile as she pushed your knife deeper into her own stomach. "Death." She hissed. You felt the blood drain out of your face. She raised her other hand and was bringing it down when Truth Teller sliced clean through the neck. The hand dropped, as did the rest of the body that held your knife.

Pain returned to you as soon as the head stopped rolling on the ground. You could feel the blood dripping... not from your back. You let out a roar of anguish, trying to fold your wing inward. Your feathers were stained a dark red. It looked black in the dim light. Azriel was on you in a second, without a word he had his hands on you, your wing.

Pain dazzled you in more ways than you ever thought possible. It burned, it stung, it ached. It was enough to make you pass out for a few moments while Azriel carried you closer to the fire. "Fly- Me-" You panted between words. "Healer." You barked, letting your wing hang limp at your side. Azriel was assessing behind you. Slowly, methodically. Coolness encapsulated your wing. It was a slight relief against the burning.

"I cant fly with you if you can bring your wings in. And we need to get this out before it spreads, its poisoned..." He paused, hissing at whatever he was seeing. There was a pinch and he had a hand on the firm ridge, bending slightly. " Its in too deep to hope for a healer to recover by the time we get there too." he finished, working delicately around your feathers.

He was gentle, and firm while he did his best to get the bigger spikes out. You could feel the smaller slivers digging in whenever he bent your wing a different angle or if you tensed it at all. It began to itch as the fire died, casting you in darkness. "Dammit." He sighed, getting up. You hadn't realised how bad the gash was until you looked over your shoulder to see the pile of splinters he had gotten out so far.

"I may have left some in there, just don't move alright?" He stroked the curve of your wing. It sent a thrill through you that made your stomach flip despite the pain. "I'll be back in a minute. Just... stay put. Please." He added, then he was gone.

Your eyes grew heavy while you stared at the embers glowing in the fire. Thinking of Rhysand and his smug smile kept you awake. You couldn't wait until his own general proved him wrong. And proved the group was very capable of taking out winged foes, apparently. You sighed, then went rigid. A crack of sticks sounded. You panicked, knowing how treacherous the forest was without an extra pair of eyes looking out for you. You flung yourself to the fae woman's body, clawing for your dagger still embedded in her stomach. Your wing drug behind you, limp and aching.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Azriel gasped, dropping the pile of wood next to the fire pit as he came into view.

"You're a bastard." You groaned, wishing you could just lay down and wake up from this nightmare of pain and terror. "You're terrible and I hate you. So much." You panted, dropping the dagger. It rolled on the dirt beside you.

Once he had you set back up where he could see properly he began the more painful process of removing the splinters. You doubted any monsters in the dark would come lurking with the sounds you made.

"For some fucked up hands they do delicate work." You ground out through your teeth. He paused for just a second. A sharper pain than normal twisted through the wing. You laughed slightly at that, despite the pain.

"Well- for some fucked up wing you sure do have a mouth still." He chided back. "I told you to just stay put and you crawl ten feet away. And get dirt under your feathers on top of that." He sounded like he was smiling.

"I didn't know you were such a neat freak, Shadowsinger." He huffed a laugh, continuing to patch you up.

"My mother was. My actual mother." He said softly. He was solemn for a moment. You wished you could see his face as he spoke. "My step mother's children are the ones who did this to my hands." His voice was near a whisper. You nodded, causing a shooting pain through your back and the area he worked on. "If I have to tell you to hold still again I'll just knock you out." He warned, putting a hand on your shoulder.

+ Once he was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and helped you fold your wings in. It was stiff. It felt like a part of you had been cut off. An unusable part that acted only to slow you down. You despised it. The pain radiated through to your back once you pulled them in. Fear struck you at that. Weakly, you turned to him.

"I cant-" You bit back tears. You hated the words as they came out. "I cant fly." You muttered, your throat tightening.

Silently, he held a hand out to you. An invitation.

He was even more delicate while flying, gliding on the air as much as possible and keeping your weight balanced so you wouldn't jostle your injury too much. It was still uncomfortable. The base camp was miles away, with differing terrain. You hadn't realised how far it was until you were overhead and couldn't see the light from the camp anymore.

"I'm going to call you feathers after this." He said, the air around you almost drowning him out as he flew as quickly as he could. The pain spiked at the pinch of folding them in, but it wasn't as unbearable.

On the brink of sleep, you trudged your mind back awake to respond to him. "What do you mean?" You groaned, letting your head fall on to his shoulder. Exhaustion was quickly sweeping over you. A glance up at him and you saw the worry in his features. He pinched the back of your thigh slightly, provoking you.

"Feathers seem like a pain in the ass. Going around them, cleaning them, trying to... maneuver them?" He adjusted his grip on you slightly, pulling you closer. His heart hammered in his chest, you could hear it. "Stay awake for me, asshole." He was gliding lower now, his words were clipped.

"Tell Rhysand..." You groaned as he circled the healers tent "Fuck you." You panted, moaning in pain while he offloaded you on to the healers table. Medics surrounded you in a heartbeat. He began filling them in on the injury. Azriel did not leave your side the rest of the night.

#acotar #acomaf #azriel #illyrian #peregryn #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #azriel x reader

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octavineles · 3 years

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↻ adore u ( trey clover )

summary — it’s no secret that you adore trey clover, but if you were to pinpoint what about him you loved so much, we would be stuck here forever (gn!reader)

warnings — pure fluff (w a tiny tiny smidge of angst), tbh this is just me projecting all my gay little feelings onto trey, a little suggestive idk u guys make out but nothing nsfw!!!!

a/n — HI GUYS. IM ALIVE. sorry for dipping so suddenly life has been really rocky for me (i had midterms, turned 16 recently as well, im currently having a difficult battle w depression but ill be fine for now!!!! and i also got into many new things etc) BUT IM BACK!!! im rly sorry for my absence T_T i also hit 100 recently so maybe i’ll plan an event soon?!?!?! idk i just feel so bad cuz i just disappeared without doing anything… ahhhh… ill make it up to u guys i swear!!!!!!! so here i present u a trey fic. because ive been thinking about him lately. also i noticed that a huge chunk of my followers r otome fans so do any of u play collar x malice cuz shiraishi has my heart and soul i love the nasty cat man. oops sorry i got off topic ik this is a twst blog NOW ONTO THE STORY

If anyone were to ask you what you loved so much about Trey Clover, you don’t think you’d be able to give them a solid answer. It’s a classic reaction, really; obviously one would feel that way towards their significant other, but your mind goes blank at the thought of him, unable to pinpoint what you adore so much about the man.

You could try, though.

There were many things that you liked about him. Trey was caring, almost like a big brother figure towards his friends (a certain redhead comes to mind at the thought of this, and it makes you smile) and he always made sure to help them out whenever they’re in a pinch. He could be a bit of a worry wart, though you never minded. If anything, it made your adoration for him grow.

His antics sometimes remind you of an overprotective mother hen, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You can still remember the way he escorted you to the infirmary after falling off your broom in the middle of flying lessons, warm fingers wiping your tears of embarrassment as he patches your ankle up. Trey stays by your side for the remainder of the period, even going as far as carrying you on his back when the bell rung, indicating next period.

(The both of you soon run into Cater, who fake retches at the sight of two lovebirds in the school hall, before snapping a selfie with the both of you in typical Cater fashion. Trey shakes his head in faux exasperation.)

You also liked the way he doted on you, as if it was apart of his nature to do so. Showering you in affection was something that came so natural to him, you can’t help but feel envious of his past lovers who got to experience all of his loving. It’s an irrational thought, but Trey never dismisses you, instead opting to give you all of his love and attention until it’s drilled into your head that you’re the only one for him.

It didn’t take long for you to notice that physical touch was apart of his love language, for the fleeting kisses and strokes to your cheek every morning was something you came to enjoy, and crave even. Another thing that you adored about Trey, you suppose. He didn’t really look like a touchy guy, so you found it cute, opting to tease him about it until his face turns as red as Riddle’s whenever in a fit full of anger. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, he jokes, and then continues with, but if I were to die at the hands of you, I wouldn’t mind it at all.

But oh, Trey could definitely return the teasing tenfold. He just opts to let you have your way, but sometimes, a bit of revenge is needed. There’s nothing he enjoys more than swiping a bit of icing on your bottom lip during your little baking dates together, before leaning in to lick it off with his tongue. The sight of your face with embarrassment written all over it is nothing but a sweet treat to him, before you turn away from his eyes and huff.

He likes this, he likes seeing you so flustered and unable to look him in the eye whenever he does anything like that. The sound of his laughter ringing through the kitchen are like bells chiming in your ears, but you don’t have the energy to look him in the eye, afraid that your heart will leap out of your chest if he tries another trick like that again. Trey coaxes you into looking at him, apologies laced with honeyed words before he props you onto the kitchen counter to kiss you like a man starved.

You’re stunned at first, but soon give in when he nips your bottom lip and cups the back of your head oh so affectionately. The two of you kiss for what it seems like hours on end, the strawberry shortcake in the oven seemingly forgotten. You both don’t stop until the timer goes off, it’s obnoxious beeping ruining the mood as Trey pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the both of you.

(You’d be lying if you said his disheveled appearance, lips wet and red from kissing for so long didn’t do anything to you, though.)

Trey also had a tendency to forgive easily, and you figured that maybe it was due to his empathetic and caring nature. He easily forgave Riddle after his whole overblot fiasco, sympathizing with his childhood friend and even went as far as to apologize himself. At most times, you would’ve adored this trait, but sometimes you just caught yourself wishing he was a bit harsher on you whenever you slipped up.

Arguments are inevitable, and they’re even a sign of a healthy relationship. You two had your differences, but sometimes you catch yourself speaking out of line. You wished Trey would be a bit selfish as you sob into his arms for forgiveness, not feeling worthy of his benevolence. And as you express that, his eyebrows furrow and he moves to press a tissue against your nose, prompting you to blow.

You can only cry harder when he explains that he knows you’d never hurt his feelings on purpose, the situation nothing but a mere misunderstanding. In turn, being a little selfish would hurt you in the process, which would only hurt him even more. He calms your cries down and kisses your forehead, granting you forgiveness.

And the list could go on. Trey had his own flaws as a person, but so did you. The both of you were like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly with each other, his quirks and antics never failing to charm you. So whenever anyone asks the golden question, all you could say is that you loved the way he loved, loved the way the both of you were inseparable, loved him for who he is and loved him for loving you.

If you could, you’d stay by his side forever.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover x you #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #twst imagines #twst fluff #twst oneshots

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measurelessdreamer · 3 years

Text

Please help one of my best friends so she doesn’t lose her home...

Hello, everyone. I know I don’t post much here, mostly just reblog random stuff, but I really hope this post will reach someone that will be able to help. I have a friend who is very dear to me and she’s been struggling so much regarding her physical and mental health and her finances. I’ll be copy-pasting one of her messages on her KoFi page (with her permission of course) down below so you may know more about her story and why she is in such a dire need of help.

I promise that if you decide to help out and donate, all the money will go directly to her and I’m sure will mean a lot to her. Even if you can’t spare much because I understand that times are hard and many people are most likely struggling too and I’m truly sorry about it, but if you can help this one person, I’ll be very grateful. Share, reblog, and most importantly be kind always.

Her message (read the whole thing here):

My HP is depleting day by day....

I know I am not really important, not a famous streamer, celebrity and such. I am just a normal human being.

I humbly ask for Potion, for Healing.

Hello fellow Warrior's of light, friends and family(FC)...

I do not know how long this post will be. I hope you are all doing great, healthy & happy.

I just feel so tired, burnt out, I lost my motivation in everything. Like I am just stuck in the middle of nowhere. Being devoured by a quicksand.

I've been battling with my major depression for so long now. And it is very hard battling Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for so long too(being emotionally abused, being called with many names), it is like I will wake up in the middle of the day or in the night and thinking I am in a different place, or someone yelling at me with the same words over and over again, but then I realize I was just alone. I find that hurting myself gives me satisfaction at times because I feel that everything is my fault. And I feel like I deserve it.

Self-destructive.....it is....that I became again...I just can't stop...

I want to go back to therapy, I have to stop abruptly last year because of the Pandemic, and my family is against it cause they only find it a waste of time. Whilst, I just go alone to my therapist. And because of that so is my medication which caused me a strong backlash. I feel like having a withdrawal syndrome from drug addiction. And my sleepless nights have returned at full blast. Mental illness where I live is like a taboo.

Sadly, more than 2 weeks ago I lost my other job, and a few days ago I decided to quit my second job which I really love but I have to, because my Manager is too much for me. He just mocks me, taking credit from my efforts, bullied me, saying bad things about how I look. It is not healthy for my Mental Health anymore. I just have my third job at the moment, but it is not enough to sustain everything. I am taking care of so many cats and a dog. Living with my Aunt-Mom who has hypertension. I live in the city, in an apartment, and at the same time paying a monthly for my childhood home in the countryside. Everything is long overdue and I have to pay them as soon as possible. I can't afford to lose them both. As much as I want to transfer to a cheaper apartment, and for my safety. The majority of them do not allow pets. I needed also to install CCTV for additional security.

I just needed a break......I am just tired from everything.....

I know I have told some of you that I will be gone for 2 weeks. Because of therapy, and retreat. But because of extended lockdown, it might be impossible for me now. And I am not yet vaccinated, it will just be a weekly doctor's 2-3 hours appointment. They will be visiting me at home instead. And also for my safety.

I ask for your help to please replenish my HP. Thank you so much.

(Me again) If you made it this far, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Please help if you can and donate through the links in the post or here. It will mean immensely much.

Tagging my followers... Please don’t be mad at me. We’re just getting desperate. @nivenor-krosis @thecrimsonmonarch @playboybrucewayyne @lorestar @221birl1823 @tempy-the-tempest @lightning-struck-thrice @just-add-butter @lesbianchrispine @clarkspulitzer @henriethsmile @susiecarter @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth @seralyra @starrymushroom @crystalmanner @ceteiq @turkish276 @disasterboysandtheirgruffloves @lovelyrita1967 @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co @riddloki @shippingdragons @papergray @plumsandpeaches @virgin-i-a @magicaltrashtriumph @bkwilli45 @fraisersworld @parrishthieves @starkinglouis @lgcgjd @bebop1971 @virgils-posts @pinkdahlia8 @margotmarquez01 @lunaticonthegrassblr @maria-cecilia0-49-blog @oridwalin @fullcelebritiesmusiciansllama @shadowywinnergalaxy @freshwoods @soft-spaceboi @fabulus-gayness @fangirl1511 @skyrimmaster4 @devils-girl-98 @ciscosgurl20 @noblelilium @nalgwing @shadow-fandom @sunsetknowsaboutyou @dreamilyuniqueangel @barryallen-edits-blog @lemonadeswift @elegantpeachbearlawyer-blog @alexaokami @ben-barnes-simp @overegos @rougeyellow @skydether-ironfist @dauntlessmiraculer-blog @butterwithpancakesandsyrup-blog @mattbch @verdantojqueen @aquasworldismusicsworld @jessiedoll99 @we-anastasiaearlysun @littlechicken0202 @immafourcoursemeal @psycosterek @lulunimzetpo @cirrrca @jarleene @be-happy-every-day-please @shrew1989 @strangerhann-blog @tasteslikestrawbebbies @madelyn8rose @askcarlyle @the-julienne-ihnat @teenagecupcakeperfection @elijahmikaelsonthough @emperor-king-jess @pure-ghost @stark-morgan @livybirduk @bloodrednight25 @esira16 @blackeyespanther-blog @best-sarcastic-friend-mj @valeriawitch @mynameislu @wendynerdy98-blog @leonorkirk @broadwaymaddie @docd666 @ajensen1946 @friendlyneighborhoodgryffindor @dewitty1 @asunamisa @tattersoc @yelenaabellova @bashfulstrawbrry @magita25 @dragonr1u @tiredofexisting123 @claris44 @am-i-lazy-or-just-stupid @iamnotthrowingawaymyship @kazutosora @pumpkin-chic98 @hellojohnmikaelson6 @thecsientist @comingbackfrompurgatory @mateodnoriega @mrscrackhead @haddietheartist @arrowversefandom-blog @st3lth34xr3vozx @soft-boy-stefan @clarkswayne @hauntedcomputerphilosopher @nerds-geeks-fangirls @millicentcordelia @danhowellsass0611-blog @somesortofbitch @likeaspeedingarrow @thunder-olivarry @fml-its-ashley @suck-too-hard-on-your-jaskier @alwaysmusiclover2462-blog @gothicxrayne @handsome-goddamn-jack @just-an-unsolved-mystery @elementofcreation @mistycrystals @shewolf93posts-blog @kingdom4eartsgirl23 @artemis-the-sinister @fiorisuilampioni @hyperion-baby @zlodiy-chasu @thescarletspeedsterx @the100bellarke @huellas-imborrables

#help #donate #donation #signal boost #personal #reaching out #kofi request #mental health #pets #ptsd #job loss #please help #kofi #saving lives #insomnia #paying bills #signal boooooost

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valhallasubstitute · 3 years

Text

Blind

Sihtric x reader Modern AU

Request: Ok so reader has a crush on Osferth, but the feelings aren't mutual, reader is sad because her crush likes another woman. But Sihtric steps in and helps reader to feel better and he ends up asking her out, because he always had a crush on her. It can be modern or Tlk era, you decide!😁🧡

WARNINGS: like none, mentions of smoking?

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @geekandbooknerd @mariaenchanted @solinarimoon

If you could go blind right now you would, but even then, this would still plague you late at night.

You knew that look so well. The doe eyes, the softness that filled them and the lopsided grin that you couldn’t fight. Why would you want to fight such an expression anyway? It was all soft and obvious and warm like the summer sun.

And he was looking at her.

Not you.

You were sure that even if you stood in front of him, butt naked with neon paint covering your tits he still wouldn’t see you, not when she was in view.

You knew the look on his face so well because it was the same one that you had every time you looked at him.

Even now you could still feel the last of the butterflies, the ones that hadn’t yet been crushed by the sinking feeling that washed over you, fluttering in your stomach.

You could feel the tightness in your throat as you watched Osferth laugh and place his hand on her arm – the subtlety of his affection it hitting you like a freight train. She leaned into it, batting her lashes and practically glowing with his attention.

Just like you had done a million times, but he had never smiled at you like that, his hand had never lingered, and he had definitely never cupped your cheek and brought his lips to yours.

You were a big girl; you could handle this. You had survived high school and your friend’s teasing. You wouldn’t cry. Not now, not on the phone to your girlfriends and not in your bed tonight.

You repeated the words in your head, a mantra of tiny lies that faded with the welling of tears. He was your friend, you should be happy for him, shouldn’t you?

‘Y/N,’ Sihtric’s voice brought you back from your spiralling melancholy. ‘It looks like it’s going to rain soon, do you still want a ride home? … Y/N?’

Wiping your eyes quickly you turned to him with a small smile, you knew he wouldn’t buy it, but he wouldn’t push either. You were close with all the Coccham boys, but Sihtric seemed to understand you the most. He was quiet, and mischievous and lovely. And right now, he was offering you a ride home, away from Osferth and his new girlfriend.

‘Yes please.’ Sihtric placed a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly with a small smile.

‘Come on then, kid.’ You scoffed but didn’t hesitate to follow him. He made your excuses for you, nodding along with the protests and shouted goodbyes. When it came for you to walk past Osferth he stepped in front. Sihtric made brief conversation with him, giving you the chance to slip away.

He knew. You didn’t know how but he knew, and you couldn’t have been more grateful in that moment.

He guided you to his car with his palm gently pressed to the small of your back, opening the door for you with a little bow. Away from your friends and the music it felt like you could breathe again. Inhaling deeply, you let your sadness be dulled by the smell of leather and cigarettes and that one slightly spicy aftershave Sihtric used.

With the slam of the driver’s side door Sihtric was next to you once more. ‘‘Some party huh?’

‘Oh yeah, one of Uhtred’s best.’

Sihtric looked at you with a single eyebrow raised and amusement in his mismatched eyes. You shrugged, turning your gaze from him back to the house. You kept getting flashes of Osferth kissing her.

As if Sihtric could hear your thoughts he turned on the radio, setting the local station to a comfortable volume. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel gently and ever so slightly off beat. You turned to him, glancing from his fingers to his face pointedly.

‘Can I help you Y/N?’ He was grinning at you, dimples appearing as he feigned ignorance.

‘You could at least try to be match the song.’

‘Is it annoying you?’

‘No. Not at all.’ A lie and an ill hidden one at that. The car slowed to a stop as the lights changed from green to amber, and the drumming of Sihtric’s fingers only got louder. ‘Oh, come on!’

‘What?’ His grin was shit eating but infectious. You made a grab for his fingers, a hopeless attempt to pin them to the wheel at least but Sihtric was too fast. He grabbed your wrist and held it high as his other hand attacked your side. Your battle and squeals were cut short with the horn of another car, the green light flashing at you.

As your laughter faded the sinking feeling returned. You could feel the mood in the car change and cursed yourself for it. You could feel Sihtric’s eyes on you too. You shook your head, as if that would physically dislodge the feelings you had.

‘Hey, it’s okay to be sad you know.’

‘I know but…’ Sihtric let the silence hang, turning down the radio as you fiddled with the cuff of your sleeve. ‘I just don’t want to be sad about it. He’s my friend and I want him to be happy, if she makes him happy surely I should support that.’ The Dane hummed in response. ‘I mean, there are plenty more fish in the sea, right?’

‘There are.’

‘Do you know any who would be interested in all of this?’ You gestured to yourself with a vague swish of your hand. Sihtric’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he puffed out a laugh.

‘Oh, I know a few. Half of them wouldn’t be able to handle you though.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means women like you are rare, Y/N. You should be treated that way.’ You could feel the blush rise from your chest to the tops of your ears. Sihtric took another quick glance at you before taking a turning that wasn’t on route to your house.

‘Excuse me, where are we going?’ You welcomed the distraction, perking up in your seat as Sihtric shrugged.

‘Just some place I know.’

You huffed at his mystery but let yourself relax as the grey buildings faded into lush greenery, and eventually the ocean.

‘You know what I said about there being plenty of fish in the sea? I didn’t mean it literally.’ Sihtric scoffed at your words, gently nudging your leg as he changed gears.

‘Shut up.’

Sihtric parked the car in a passing place, and once the engine stopped you could hear the roar of the waves. It was far colder by the coast, the wind nipping at your exposed skin and blurring your vision. You rubbed your palms together as your fingers turned icy.

You could hear Sihtric yelling something at you, but the words were lost on the wind, it wasn’t until his hoodie was thrown in your face that you understood. You didn’t bother trying to yell back, instead you mouthed a thank you, hoping he’d see the sincerity in it.

The fabric was well loved but it smelled good, and it still held the warmth of Sihtric’s skin. You pulled the hood up, tying the sting under your chin as you walked closer to the edge of the cliff face. Sihtric came to stand beside you a few minutes later, a packet of cigarettes in hand.

‘Why here?’

‘It helps clear my head.’ Even this close Sihtric’s voice still sounded distant, but you found comfort in his words regardless. The waves took the heavy feeling from your heart and washed apart of it away, the rest seeming to subside as Sihtric tapped your shoulder, his eyes shining as he mimed for you to pass him his lighter.

You smiled back, questioning until he pointed to the front pocket of his hoodie. You reached for it, turning the cool metal of the lighter in your hands.

You shook your head. No. Sihtric’s eyebrows shot up, mimicking the action once more before you started backing away from him. The confusion slowly started to fade from his face and your footsteps quickened.

Before he could make a grab for you, you were already sprinting back to the car, glancing over your shoulder every now and then. Sihtric’s legs were far longer than your own and he closed the gap quickly, but not quickly enough to catch you.

You darted from left to right, right to left. Your heart was pounding, and your laughter took your breath away, betraying the pace you had set. The game of cat and mouse came to halt as you locked eyes with the car between you.

‘Y/N,’ You could hear the warning in his voice. ‘Give me my lighter.’

‘And what if I don’t?’

‘I’ll leave you here.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

The car doors unlocked with a click and a flash of headlights. ‘Wouldn’t I?’

As long as you’d known Sihtric he’d always been good at masking himself, a face made for poker. The longer you looked at him the more unsure you became, slowly you rounded the car towards him. As soon as you were in arms reach you could see his plan clear as day on his face, yet there was nothing you could do to against his speed. His arms circled your waist quickly, his laughter mixing with your own. You fought him with the same vigour as you had done before, slapping his forearms and flailing legs. He only let you go when he has the lighter in his hands.

‘I believe that’s one one.’

‘Pfft, get in the car.’

Even with the heating blasting you kept Sihtric’s hoodie on, whacking him with the oversized sleeve as he tutted at your feet resting on the dash.

‘Do you feel any better?’ You turned to face him, confused at the look on his face. His eyes were searching yours and you could see the concern in them.

‘I feel great.’ As soon as you said the words you remembered why you shouldn’t. You waited for the sadness, the weight of a heavy heart but it didn’t come. Not while Sihtric was smiling at you like that.

‘Good. You should always feel this way.’

‘That’s the second time you’ve told me that today.’

‘I mean it. If Osferth couldn’t see that, and I say this with love, then it’s his loss.’

‘Thank you.’ Sihtric shook his head, his eyes going from you to your lips back to your eyes. You followed the curve of his mouth and the sharp lines of his cheekbones, to the softness in his eyes, trying to work out if this was all a part of making you feel better or if he meant it. He had never lied to you yet.

‘You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. If you gave me the chance, I’d show you that every day.’

‘As in date me?’

‘I’ve wanted to date you since the day I met you, I thought it was obvious and then I saw the way you looked at Osferth and how could I deny him a chance with someone like you.’

‘Well, I’m looking at you now.’ And you were. You saw the small smile, the softness in his eyes and the loveliness that was Sihtric. You saw it all and wondered how you could have been so blind.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘How could I say no?’

#tlk fanfic #tlk sihtric #Sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fanfic #sihtric kjartanson x reader #sihtric x reader #inga writes

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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justmeandmysickies · 3 years

Text

@angstyaches this is probably not exactly what you had in mind but I hope you still like it!

Bonding

characters: Nick and Joe

warnings: emeto

„Please come over, I’m sick.“ That was all Nick had said, before the line clicked, indicating that the call had ended.

Now usually Joe would have called him right back to give him a piece of his mind – he wasn’t Nick’s mother after all – but it was different this time.

Nick was always whiny when sick. His usually so stoic and smug self would be replaced by the attitude of a needy 7-year-old as soon as he had the sniffles. And that was never a reason to worry. He’d be back to behaving like himself after a few days of resting, so Joe usually wouldn’t bother going over there to take care of him. Since Nick would be either sleeping or harassing him 24/7 it was simply not worth it.

But something about Nick’s call had Joe in his car and on the road in a matter of seconds. Something was wrong. Nick hadn’t sounded whiny. He had sounded like he was in pain. Genuine pain. And Joe didn’t like the idea of that one bit.

He arrived at Nick’s building several minutes later, grocery bag filled with sick-day-supplies in hand.

Joe briefly wondered if his boyfriend had been smart enough to leave the apartment unlocked for him but fortunately the door swung open with ease.

Upon entering the small but cozy living room, he was immediately greeted by Fork, the red cat Nick had adopted just a few months prior to the beginning of their relationship. Joe had never understood that decision – he wasn’t particularly fond of the general concept of having pets, especially not the ones that could kill you in your sleep if they wanted to.

Nick however seemed to love his miniature tiger, so Joe had to live with that. Still, he couldn’t help the face of disgust as Fork rubbed up against his leg, leaving behind a trail of red hair on his black jeans.

Despite his obvious dislike for the cat, Joe stepped into the kitchen to check if his ill-stricken boyfriend had remembered to feed his pet. The food-bowl seemed reasonably full, so he started putting away the few groceries he had bought, ignoring Fork who was looking up at him expectantly as he opened up the cabinet that contained the cat treats.

Satisfied with himself, he closed the cabinets and grabbed some Gatorade for Nick to drink. Now came the hard stuff.

Joe had no idea how to care for other people. His entire life he had been taking care of himself but when it came to others he was at a loss. Maybe it was his lack of empathy. Or maybe it was his fear of things that aren’t in his control. Or he was simply scared that people would see that he actually cared. Whatever the reason, he usually avoided having to take care of someone at all costs. But this was his boyfriend, and he needed his help, so Joe had to suck it up.

And that’s why he braced himself with a deep breath and took off down the hallway to Nick’s bedroom, Fork right on his heels.

Joe opened the door in one swift motion, letting the two of them into the room. It was dark; Nick had pulled all the curtains closed. The sick man himself was only a lump buried in pillows and blankets.

Joe stood still for a few seconds, trying to figure out if his boyfriend was asleep, momentarily forgetting about the cat that had followed him into the room. And before he could stop him, Fork had already jumped up the bed, immediately cuddling close to his owner’s face.

Nick groaned and Joe could have slapped himself. He had probably been asleep before Fork decided to get in his face. “Fork, how the hell did you open the door?” The blonde asked, voice heavy with sleep as he gave his cat a little shove.

“He didn’t.” Joe answered as he stepped closer to the bed.

Nick looked up in confusion. He obviously hadn’t noticed Joe standing there. “Josh? What are you doing here?”

Joe frowned. That was alarming to say the least. “You called me.” He put a careful hand on his boyfriend’s forehead, fearing the worst. Nick just hummed, leaning into Joe’s cool palm, who clicked his tongue in concern. “You’re burning up. Have you taken your temperature?” He drew his hand back and Nick whined at the loss of contact.

“I didn’t feel like it.” He mumbled quietly, burying himself deeper in his pillow.

“What do you mean you didn’t feel like taking your temperature? Have you at least taken some medicine?” Joe couldn’t decide if he was very irritated or very concerned.

“No, didn’t feel like doing that either.”

Irritated. He was definitely very irritated. And it took him every ounce of willpower to not yell at the sick man in front of him.

Joe took a deep breath. He could do this. “I’ll get you some medication in a second. First, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything.” Came the reply from deep within the covers. It was clear Nick didn’t feel like talking but in order to help him, Joe had to know what was going on.

“Babe.” Joe sighed impatiently, waiting for a useful answer.

Nick groaned but stuck his head out from under the covers anyway. He was quiet for a moment, before he answered. “Everything. I’m not kidding. But mainly my ear. It hurts so bad, when I first woke up this morning I actually cried for a while.”

He laughed nervously after the last part, trying to play it off as a joke but Joe knew it was true. Nick was honest when he wasn’t feeling well.

His concern only grew when Nick winced visibly, closed his eyes, and started taking deep breaths.

Joe thought for a moment and then it hit him.

“Are you dizzy?” Nick hummed affirmatively. “Feel sick?” Another hum. “Does it feel like there is pressure in your ear or your head in general?” Nick stilled for a second, seemingly thinking about his answer before nodding.

“You have an ear infection.” Joe stated matter-of-factly. Unfortunately, he was all too familiar with the concept. He used to get ear infections all the time as a kid and even as an adult he still dealt with them every other year. The pain could be excruciating, at times having you unable to move. No wonder Nick was feeling so awful.

The latter only groaned, too exhausted to form words or even sentences.

“Alright, here is the deal.” In a way Joe was glad it was an ear infection – that was at least something he would be able to deal with. “I’ll get you some fever reducers and something to drink. You’ll take a bath and then you’ll go back to resting. If this isn’t better by tomorrow, I’ll take you to a doctor.”

“Why do I need to take a bath?” Nick whined, once again burying his face under his blanket.

Rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s childish behavior, Joe pulled the blanket lower to expose Nick’s face. “Because you stink. And it might make you feel better.”

Nick wanted to argue but Joe had already left the room to grab some medicine so there really was no point. He returned seconds later with some pills.

The next step was the bath. Nick reached his arms out and Joe pulled him upwards with seemingly no effort. In hindsight, that was a horrible idea. A wave of dizziness hit Nick like a truck as soon as he was upright. If it hadn’t been for Joe, he would have crumpled to the floor right then and there.

Joe held his partner close, encouraging him to take some deep breaths when suddenly Nick’s entire body convulsed with a dangerously wet sounding retch. He was trying to decide whether to get a bucket or get his boyfriend to the bathroom, but Nick made that decision for him as he bolted towards the door, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

He was so dizzy he could barely see where he was going – it was like his body was moving on autopilot. It’s a miracle he didn’t run face first into a wall.

He crashed to the floor in front of the toilet, just seconds before last nights meager dinner made a reappearance, along with the medicine he’d just taken.

Joe went after him hesitantly, wanting to help but not knowing how. He ultimately settled on keeping Nick’s hair out of his face. It wasn’t much but it was appreciated.

The entire ordeal seemed to be a one-and-done thing. The blonde was left panting and spitting excess saliva into the toilet for a while, but his stomach seemed to have calmed down for the time being.

“Why the fuck do you puke, when your ear is infected?” Nick asked breathlessly while wiping some sweat from his brow.

“I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty sure it’s cause of the pain.” Joe answered, getting up to turn on the water for the bathtub.

At that moment Fork casually strolled into the bathroom and right onto Nick’s lap where he immediately settled down, purring lovingly. The blonde couldn’t help but smile a bit as he scratched his cat behind his ear.

The three of them sat there in silence for a while, Nick being too exhausted to talk and Joe not knowing what to say anyway.

Joe once again helped his boyfriend to his feet, when the bath was ready, although a lot slower this time. He even helped the sick man undress before he turned to leave the bathroom. “Wash up, I’m gonna change your bedsheets.”

“But I’m too tired to bathe by myself.” Nick whined as he struggled to step into the tub.

Joe turned around slowly, not quite believing what his boyfriend had just said. “Are you telling me that you need my help bathing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please?” Nick pouted, which was a rather bizarre image, considering that he was muscular, over 6 feet tall and covered in tattoos.

The younger man sighed in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting in with you. I literally just showered two hours ago.”

“Deal.”

Turns out, it was a good decision not to leave Nick alone. He was sleepy and if it hadn’t been for Joe, he would’ve probably drowned in his own bathtub. Right now Joe was carefully massaging shampoo into his boyfriend’s scalp who was about to drift off to sleep. He had been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last ten minutes, but it was a losing battle. It was impossible to stay awake with the heavenly feeling of Joe’s fingers in his hair.

And the latter didn’t mind. Any other day he’d yell at Nick for sleeping in the bathtub but not today. He could use the rest and Joe was there to watch him, make sure he was alright. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt him. So Joe started rinsing out the shampoo as Nick fell asleep.

Fork, who had been forced to get up from his owners lap several minutes ago, now decided to settle into the brunette’s side. He still wasn’t a fan of pets but maybe he could get used to this one, Joe thought, unable to hide the fond smile that had snuck up on him.

#em writes #nick #joe #my ocs #emeto

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avengershumanresources · 3 years

Text

blood 7 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 6 - part 8 (coming April 13th)

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

CHAPTER WARNING: Yee-har, thar be smut afoot in this here chapter. 18+

7- a king

Anthony Stark hadn’t expected all of this to come of his death. He foresaw of some of it.

Of Obadiah’s imminent betrayal and Brock’s general ambition, but when Wanda had approached him with her vision all those years ago, he couldn’t have understood what it all meant.

Now, however, he realized the violence that was soon to arrive at his kingdom’s doorstep. It was an uneasy feeling; the responsibility bestowed upon him to put men’s lives at risk. To make widows and orphans because of inter family squabbles.

But Tony knew that Obadiah and Brock both presented far larger threats in the long term.

A king who is hungry for power will never stop to consider the least fortunate in his rule.

It was a mantra Tony had created for himself after his father had let entire villages fall to win back some petty golden toy during the War of the Giants. In the end, the lives lost had been worthless and the giants returned to their mountains with more spoils than they’d started.

It had made him sick.

That was the moment Tony decided to be a better man. A better king. He took pride in his unselfish rule and lack of war among those who shared the boundary with his kingdom. By a miracle he’d gotten Brock into line, but Obadiah had gotten a taste of power from his position in the Giant’s War and wanted more.

Rumors turned to plots, and all at once Tony knew his family and legacy was in danger. He had a troubled relationship with the Wakandans after one of his own barons killed their king in a quest for vengeance after the Giant’s War. Steve had volunteered as ambassador with the shadowy James Barnes (who’d long had a positive relationship with T’Challa) and they’d managed to broker a deal benefiting both nations.

And Asgard.

That was a whole other bag of complications.

Odin had long been distrustful of Tony’s first wife, the late Queen Alexandra due to her Vanir lineage. The Asgardians had fought for centuries trying to eradicate what they’d seen as a dangerous race of uncontrollable magic users.

Odin had been a step in the right direction, after replacing his late father, but the prejudices still remained and Tony’s marriage to one of the few remaining Vanir royals had soured what little relations they’d had.

Still, in the end, they’d protected you when he so desperately needed help the Asgardians could only provide. To that, he’d offered her hand to the princes, and Odin took the offer into consideration, only backing off when an agreement was made between the two boys and yourself that affections lay elsewhere.

Which brought him to his latest challenge. Your engagement to the monster king, Brock Rumlow.

The popular story was that he’d had his late wife killed when she hadn’t produced a male heir. Every female baby prior had been fed to the dogs and at last, when her fifth pregnancy had yielded yet another female, she fell mysteriously ill and died a few nights later. Some say a villager found the baby’s water logged corpse shortly after.

From a strategic perspective, it made sense. You hadn’t been called upon by any serious suitors, often running around the kingdom with a begrudging Stephen on your coattails, and you were still young enough to bare a child or two.

Brock needed a means of securing trust in the kingdom, and marrying one of its beloved daughters was the way to do it. Not to mention, Obadiah got his army, Peter would be overthrown when he attempted to take his birthright, and both men would share in the mutual benefits of being involved in one of the strongest economies in history.

It was a clear cut plan for control of the kingdom, and it would have been more than enough for Tony to take action.

Except for one small caveat.

You.

You’d been born of the same Vanir blood as your mother and even as a days old infant, you had shown the Master Sorceress at the time an insurmountable measure of power.

It was an old and finicky magic, the woman had warned before your mother’s body had even cooled in bed. You would need trining, but there was no one left to provide.

The Asgardians had been thorough in destroying the ancient texts and any remaining Vanir had long fallen into hiding, often using enchanted amulets and trinkets to conceal their seidr from those with wicked intentions.

Your mother had been a victim of such vicious greed. She’d been open with her abilities, sharing a close bond with Orin’s own wife and his young son, Loki. The pair had conspired to learn all the forbidden secrets of the Vanir, and she’d begun to accumulate quite the library of resources from old temples and Asgardian burial tombs.

Frigga helped her translate and in turn, the relationship with the royal families had warmed considerably until a few days before your birth.

Things had fallen apart so quickly. The Northern Kree empire had infiltrated the castle after hearing rumors of the queen’s power. Someone had once written that a single drop of Vanir blood was worth thousands in gold pieces. A bandit had gotten through the gates while she labored, he had ambushed her in the birthing chambers and despite putting up an admirable fight- died with a dagger stabbed through her heart.

The beast had tried to cut it free in front of the midwives.

The Master Sorceress had only stepped from the room a moment to freshen up her herbal remedies. By the time anyone had made it to her side, she had died, and you’d been cut free of her with that same knife.

“Your majesty?” Wanda inquired, approaching where he sat by the fire of the rebellion campsite.

“Yes?” He blinked up, returning to the present at hand. The men who were preparing for battle around him. The women sharpening weapons and sewing leather.

The people he had asked to rise up for the betterment of the kingdom. The people who were prepared to die by his side for a secure future.

“Master Strange is to meet at my cottage in the hour,” she explained.

“And what would you advise Master Sorceress?” he asked, an amused expression on his face. “Shall we let him in on our secret?”

“With less than seven days to the wedding, it might be wise,” she reasoned sardonically. “Natalia has her own mission in securing the support from within. Master Strange is working with Peter and Loki on securing the vulnerable.”

“Do you think he told him?” Tony looked down at the fire pensively.

“Who?”

“Loki,” he clarified. “He and Master Mordo were among the few who knew. They had to have mentioned something to him. He’s- well- I’m not entirely sure what he is to her now, but he’s certainly one of the closest lines of protection to her.”

“Assuming the rune hasn’t already faded, I would think he either told him or Stephen found out for himself, my liege,” Wanda sat down on the log next to time, her gaze following his into the flames. “Her power is what Amora desires. It needs to be concealed until the princess is in safe hands.”

“Then he knows,” Tony decided, nodding to himself. “Amora would have done something stupid if the seidr had broken through completely. Someone is keeping it under control.”

“I’ll find out,” Wanda promised. “Would you like to speak to him?”

Tony made a disgruntled noise at the thought of approaching the sorcerer. House Strange had long served under the Stark banner, proudly riding at the front of the line when called upon for battle. When they sent their oldest to train at Kamar-Taj, Tony had been surprised.

The boy had a knack for strategy and was sharp as a needle point. Tony could have seen the young man easily rise in leadership in the house, ruling his own militiamen and managing the family affairs.

But apparently he had no interest in it, and in an unorthodox fashion, the assets had been passed to their eldest daughter.

Granted, in the end, none of that mattered- as the entire family estate had been stricken by a particularly nasty plague. The sole survivor was Stephen, who’d been away at Kamar-Taj when he’d gotten the news.

He’d rushed home, and in the process gotten sick himself, but with the help of his fellow sorcerers, recovered with the only remnants of the illness remaining in his hands. He often told others it had been a riding accident. Only a select few knew the truth and devastation of his loss.

Tony had met with the young man on his sickbed, assuring him the assets would remain in the family. That the castle would maintain the property while he fulfilled his obligations to Kamar-Taj. After all, there was no greater calling than to a life of service and compassion. It was the least Tony could do.

Well, until you had scared off every Master to cross the castle threshold and he’d gotten desperate and asked the boy for a favor.

He should have known better. You were close in age. Equally as ambitious and cunning. For years you’d been sneaking through passages and around the villages at night, often with Natalia at your side.

Stephen just made it easier, and helped Tony rest a little easier knowing the man would give his life for you, if need be.

Tony wasn’t dumb. He’d seen it the first night the you had met.

The sneaking smiles, the conspiratorial whispers in the corners of the ballroom, and when Peter’s cat turned into a lion almost identical to the Stark sigil, Tony knew that one day he might allow that young man to break the oaths he’d made for a single exception.

“Your highness?” Wanda pried gently for a clearer answer.

“Yes, I’ll speak to him,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. About a great many things.

(—)

“I somehow don’t believe you just found out about this,” you stated, sitting cross legged on one of the strewn about cushions, a teapot floating delicately from the palm of your hand.

“I’ve learned a number of thing recently,” he replied dryly. “Like Mordo is alive, and Brock wants to kill Obadiah once you’re wed.”

You lost your focus and the cup shattered on the ground.

“He what?” you gaped at Stephen while he repaired the ceramic cup with a wave of his hand.

“It ties into the whole secret magic thing, but it really isn’t an ideal situation,” he explained, setting the cup aside and dropping to the cushion across from you.

“I guess it’s good I’ve pestered you for your books over the years,” you mused, flexing your fingers in the air in front of you.

“It isn’t the same,” he sighed, watching while you lifted a few other stray objects and paused them between the two of you. “Seidr is... there isn’t documentation. The books were destroyed. Kamar-Taj had a few tomes but the Vanir language is nearly impossible to translate at this point.”

“What about Loki? Or Frigga?” you asked, moving both your hands at once and dropping a feather into his lap with a grin.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been focused on other issues,” he muttered dryly. “We’re going to have to seal this before you leave.”

“But you said it’s what preventing Amora from taking over my head,” you reminded him pointedly, summoning a small flame from an incantation you’d studied the day before. Extinguishing it between your palms, you looked up at him for a better excuse.

“But it is also the reason Brock is forcing you into a marriage and so she can control you, and in turn, your power better than you can,” he explained tersely. “She can’t know you’ve gotten partial control over it. Let her underestimate you, but until you can learn to conceal the energy yourself, you can’t risk exposure.”

“So am I being sealed or not?” you asked impatiently, floating a candle from you to him. He took it with an amused half-smile, extinguishing the light with a quick puff of air. “Can you do a... half seal? Hide the energy, keep some of the good parts?”

“Gods, I don’t know,” he groaned, shaking his head while he seat the canclde aside. “This is entirely new territory that I was not trained for.”

“That must mean you’re a terrible Sorcerer Supreme. What fool put you in charge?” you teased, reaching forward and tapping the top of his nose playfully.

“It’s not my fault you’re a freakish anomaly that’s supposed to be extinct,” he mumbled, pulling a frown while you laughed. “Give me your wrist.”

“Fine, but when this over I demand you help me train properly,” you stated and though he continued grumbling under his breath about being too old for your games, he agreed. “And Loki helps too.”

“Not part of the deal,” Stephen scowled.

“Fine, I’ll marry him then,” you smirked back at him. “You still haven’t asked, so I guess when my wedding tragically falls through, I’ll have to find respite with him.”

He pulled you forward, a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I’m not going to chase after a betrothed woman, it’s bad taste,” he hummed, fingers crawling up your wrist and intertwining with your fingers. “I have a reputation to uphold, even if you feel comfortable hiding away with strange men in dark places.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” you whispered, sitting up on your knees and tilting your head.

“Do you not think I’m funny?” he murmured, reaching with his free head and tilting back your chin. A smile played on the corners of your mouth, both of you sizing the other up and daring the other to make the first move.

“I can think of many things you are,” you lifted his hand and pressed a tender kiss to his palm. “But funny?”

“You laugh at all of my clever wit, don’t try to deceive me princess, I know the truth,” Stephen sharply pulled your hand forward, forcing you to fall into his chest. He held your lower back, gazing down at you adoringly. “You’re trying to hide it, but I see it in your eyes.”

“Do you know what I see in your eyes?” your voice cracked ever so slightly, your hand cradling his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing the sharp features.

“What do you see?”

“Strength,” you murmured, transfixed by his opalescent gaze. All at once, it was like you were seeing him for the first time. You could feel the energy radiating off of him, seeing the waves of magic as they ripples through his body. “Devotion to... Stephen you’re beautiful.”

“Or so the stars whisper to the earth below,” his voice was soft, gentle, while his hand guided itself up your arm to your cheek. “But, what the stars do not see is their own radiance, their own ethereal light shimmering across the velvet heavens above. The stars do not know how the Earth worships the very flicker of their existence, tells stories of their magnificence and beauty. The do not know how the Earth finds its meaning in what little time it steals away to them in the night.”

It all happened very quickly after that.

You peeled at his robes, he worked at your corset, a frenzy of hands and mouths tasting one another in a way neither had ever imagined.

Discarding the corset, he worked his hands up your blouse, fingers lightly teasing the tip of your nipple until you let out a satisfied moan. Robes loose, you pushed him back against a nearby pile of cushions, climbing between his legs and peppering hungry kisses up and down his neck until he growled, clawing at your hips.

“If you’re-,” he tired protesting while you pulled away more clothing, pressing his leg between yours and letting out a whimper of pleasure when he shifted in just the right way.

That seemed to set something off in him.

He was over you, flipping you to the ground and pulling what little clothing remained between you, your naked bodies now flush. Stephen moved down to your breast, drawing a nipple between his teeth and watching you squirm under him at the incredible sensation.

“Please,” you mewed, an absolute wreck under him.

He took his time, moving to the other nipple and repeating his actions until you were begging for any kind of release.

“Needy are we?” he murmured in your ear, his voice low and so controlled, you couldn’t understand how he could stand it. Goosebumps erupted over your body, and he just smirked, continuing his exploration.

Teasing a finger at your entrance, he looked to you for final approval before easing the digit into you.

“Gods,” he hissed, moving the finger at an agonizingly slow speed. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

He caught you in a kiss, speeding up his hand below, his thumb searching for the sensitive nub of nerves. When he grazed over the tender area, you nearly shot out of yourself, the sensation feeling downright sinful.

Pulling his finger out, you let out another whimper, this one of protest at the emptiness inside of you.

“Are you certain-?” he asked again, eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” you replied honestly. It wasn’t an exaggeration. You’d been a make up to this point, untouched and with no interest in engaging in such outrageous behavior.

Yet with him, you wished you could give more. Your body. Your soul. Your love. What did it matter anymore? He was yours, sitting before you and showing you through his loving car assess and sensations you’d never known before this moment.

He eased himself in, giving you time to adjust to his length, the member much larger than his single finger. But Gods, did he feel incredible.

You’d never thought so much emotion and pleasure could occur in a single moment. For this tiny hidden corner of the universe, you felt like your souls had collided and merged.

It was a far cry from how Nat had told you it was.

This was- you anticipated each of his movements, raising your hips to meet his as he crashed inside of you. Your brain couldn’t form coherent thoughts and when he started to coax something feral from within your core, you let him lead you through it.

Pumping in time with strokes to your clit, you clenched your walls around him, pulling a hissed curse from the sorcerer.

A few more pumps and a final circle around the sensitive area and you felt your orgasm crash over you.

At first, you thought you’d done something wrong. Did you break something? How did this feel so incredible and overwhelming all at once?

While you rode out your bliss, you felt his hips tighten, finishing with a final grunt.

You both stated at one another, eyes wide, trying to catch your breath.

“Have you-,” you started but paused. “Like that before-?”

It was no secret Stephen wasn’t exactly a virgin. He had his vows but they were against attachment, not sex, and sometimes, as he put it, the spirit needed to be revitalized.

You’d called him a creep and moved on, but Gods did you understand now.

“I don’t know what happened,” he blinked, looking thoroughly bewildered. “That’s... I’ve never- my gods, you’re incredible.”

He pulled out, dropping to the ground next to you with a huff.

“I have a potion,” he muttered, pointing to the table above them. “Prevents pregnancy.”

“And here I thought you were devoted to me,” you poked him in the rib and he just laughed.

“I am,” he insisted. “However, I’m not devoted enough to end up in the gallows for deflowering a princess who is betrothed to a ruthless king. My apologies, my grace.”

“Hm, I’m sure I can find someone willing to make that sacrifice for me,” you hummed.

“And a fool he will be,” he leaned up on his elbow. “I still win the day. He would be hanged and I still get my princess.”

“Your princess?”

“Has it been any other way?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Truly, if I’m mistaken, tell me. I don’t want to sound too over ambitious.”

You considered it briefly. Had it?

No, you knew from the moment you spied those eyes at the ball welcoming him to the castle that he was your future. You just hadn’t realized what that meant at the time.

There was no world, no life, where you could live without him by your side.

The thought sobered you quickly, your upcoming nuptials springing to mind, the spell locking you in your private world, now lifted.

“Would you have asked my father?” you asked.

“In another life, we would have been married by now,” he answered earnestly. “I’m a fool for having hesitated and nearly missed my chance at an eternity by your side.”

“And Brock?” you asked, the name leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Stephen’s expression darkened at mention of the man.

“I’ll kill him before he touches you,” he vowed. “I will not yield your heart to such a monster, and I will stop this. I cannot risk you leaving my side. Not again, my love.”

You leaned forward and kissed him, soft, intimate, and gentle. Stephen wasn’t a fighter.

Certainly he could fight, but you knew him well enough to know that violence was a last option after all other options had been tried. And here he was preparing to declare a one man war on your betrothed.

Truly, the heavens were smiling upon you in this life.

(—)

Later that evening, when Stephen had returned you safely to your quarters, he met with Wanda at her cottage at the edge of the woods to discuss the next steps in the plan.

When she caught sight of him, her expression shifted from confused to elated to-

“What is it?” he asked, knowing she’d gotten a read of what he’d been up to previously.

“Do well to conceal your thoughts,” she warned, leading him inside.

“Conceal what-?” he asked after her, stopping in his tracks when he saw Anthony sitting at her table, sipping at a large horn of water.

Tony stood up, giving the man a once over, brows raised as he took him in.

“You couldn’t wait until the wedding night?” he grumbled, dropping back down in his chair with a long sigh.

(—)

8- a secret

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