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sankttealeaf · 1 year

Note

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

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sarawritestories · 8 months

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us. Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking. “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

“What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here. The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red. “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed. Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely. Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

#cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #cassian x fem!reader #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand acotar

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nogodsnomorales · 1 year

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Know that I am going to get pretty serious here, as this post is about Punkflower. I am going to talk about the age situation, the blatant racism ABOUT this ship, and to also talk about the ship itself*. There is also some talk about the shippers/non-shippers + Punkflower antis in general.

[*nothing negative! just like.. discussing it as a whole, because everybody needs to be aware of some important things. the shippers, non-shippers/people on neutral ground, AND the haters/antis.]

There is a BIG wall of text incoming, but all of it is organized to its very best at what I could do!! I first wrote this in docs, I did my best to make it not a whole chaotic mess to read through. It's a big post, but there's a lot of spacing and some text is coloured, so it will be very easy to read.

This is a very detailed and THROUGH post, so it is slightly recommended to read on computer for the best viewing experience.

[It's not needed as you can still just read on your phone/etc, I do want you lovely people to have the best viewing experience possible.]

There will be an expand button, so I will not clog your feed and the tags.

TDLR;

Dear punkflower shippers,

your prayers have been ANSWERED. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT SHIPPING PUNKFLOWER NOW 🙏

punkflower shippers, do not live in fear no more, for I am here now.

Sincerely,

tumblr user: godunforgiving

Edited Note (06/21); FYI, I am muting this! Read the edit change log at the end of this post for more information. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

punkflower talk/analysis(?) + talking about Hobie’s age

This entire post is a discussion of various things, of my own thoughts and opinions! Some of the talk is about the posts + comments I have seen other people say about this ship [mainly questioning and worried ones.] All of the pieces of information that I knew were scattered, so I wanted to gather all of what I could find, and put it in a singular post for those still worrying.

[Also where others can actually just refer to this post and just read thru here first, instead of having to spend a lot of time going through the Punkflower tag to desperately find info!]

I would have gotten this finished and posted days ago, but you know, usual IRL things slowed me down, and I had to spend my day in the ER yesterday, lol.. I’m okay as of now! Just have to take it easy, but I really did want to finish writing my ass off with this post, since I know it’s important to me and for many others out there.

Take your time to read through this, and please absolutely feel free to add any of your input/extra knowledge/anything that I should add onto this post. DMs can be the best, or just through the comments can suffice, because I can and will edit anything into this post [that is accurate aka there is backed up evidence/sources to go along with it.] If you do want to see something added here, just tell me and I'll see if I can manage!

I genuinely hope that this post can be helpful to you, as it will be helpful for me!

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Please know that; I will directly quote from many people, as all of them will be credited properly by being mentioned down below and leaving their username (that is linked back) with their respective quotes, because their own pieces of text really helped build this post! I cannot thank each person enough.

Do not be a piece of shit and go after or ‘witch hunt’ any of them. Respect their own privacy and being.

users mentioned (IOOA): @comfortingnightmare, @luvvnobo, @ghostspider-isms, @saltylemonade13, @artisan-is-bored, @bellamer, @uglynavel, @peachypea0ny (fyi, site is not allowing me to tag), @crownecromancer, @raspberryjars, @spideyzpoolsp, @hamiltonforpowerpoint

[If you are one of the mentioned people, and you want yourself to be removed or become anonymous, please let me know ASAP!]

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Notes:

If you are colourblind (some of the text is coloured fyi! colours used are blue, pink, and purple), or have difficulty reading text due to it being too small, or can't read the font, etc, please let me know! I can give you a google docs link of this entire post that is best suited for your needs. No, you will not be a burden to me. Your needs are very important, and I will want to assist with the best that I can do with that!

I, godunforgiving, am on a mix of a positive + neutral ground on the topic of shipping Punkflower. I absolutely adore the comic!Punkflower, and I am fond of ATSV!Punkflower with the way I view it. Reason why I said neutral, know that I am not against the ships by any means!! But I guess why I say that is because there wasn’t a lot of canon media to consume [ATSV!Punkflower], and I want more [Also note that I have NOT seen the movie yet.] I don’t usually ‘do’ shipping when it comes to various franchises, I guess it’s mainly just not my thing? But I do know that I’ve come to like Punkflower.

I do not ‘do’ discourses, nor do I intend to actively join them! This is my first time doing something like this / this being my first ‘discourse’, yet I hope for it to be my last. I made this post with the pure intention to help the Punkflower shippers. Do know that!! I know that many people do not like the topic of discourses, but this one and the problems I’ve seen revolving around Punkflower, I just have to say something. Bc idk if anybody else is going to [with the way I did this post], considering the mess that occurred days ago, but someone has to and has to do it properly.

I am autistic, so I may process words + information differently, or even ‘incorrectly’. So if a sentence doesn’t make sense, due to perhaps my misuse of grammar, etc, please do not hesitate to ask/reach out, and I can do my best to re-explain it to you.

Negative comments [and comments directly to this post where the person is actually spreading misinfo], will be deleted. Know that if you decide that you disagree with this post, then okay! I am not bothering you, just as I hope that you will revert to ignoring me, instead of hating on me. Please have the common decency to just be kind or even don’t say anything at all, and carry on with your day.

If you have any concerns regarding this post, do not hesitate to reach out to me.

this post was originally inspired by a friend, then originally created for @feuille-morte, but it is finished for the rest of the punkflower fans, ily all. take care of yourselves!! anything for these cute silly little guys ok (and the entire punkflower nation)

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let’s get started with an introduction.

“what is Punkflower?”

Punkflower is a slash [aka queer] relationship between two black male teenagers, Hobie Brown and Miles Morales. Usually, it is perceived a romantic relationship, as some other people only see the pairing as a platonic duo and such. I do not know more forms of Punkflower, but I will use the 'main' two forms in this post. Comic![SG!]Punkflower [SG is Spider-Geddon, a comic series first released on Sept 2018], and Across the Spider-Verse aka ATSV!Punkflower.

Think of it as the same ships with the same characters, but in different fonts.

Comic!SG!Punkflower has existed for nearly 5 years now, likely first existing sometime in late 2018 to early-mid 2019. Both Miles and Hobie are very close in age in the comics, at around 16 to 17 years old. Away from Spider-Geddon(?), but still on the topic of comics, Hobie is still 16-17 in the comics.

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“people are saying Punkflower is a problematic ship!”

The main [and probably only] source of this misinformation, is from a clip that was cropped to be posted with the intention of spreading heavy misinformation (We will get into that next.) So, as far as I am aware, and know; Punkflower antis are throwing around p/do allegations, because they hate the ship and they are outraged with people enjoying it. This hate is clearly rooted with racism, and homophobia. So, no, Punkflower is not a minor x adult ship!

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“the interview talk, what happened, and what is actually real?”

If you’ve watched the interview, you can easily see that they were talking about the brainstorming process of developing Hobie's early ideas for his character. A director mentioned that in the early concept stage, Hobie was originally going to be 19-20 [This wasn’t even our Hobie, but Prowler Hobie.]

A person cut a very small clip of the mentioned interview, and uploaded it, a clip that was EXTREMELY out of context.

The uploader cut out the part explaining that Hobie’s ‘original’ age had changed as his character was being developed.

So from this, and no context given, a lot of people were instantly quick to hate; since it was on purpose to make the entire ship, AND those who enjoyed the ship, look extremely bad. What happened was not okay, yet this disgusting behaviour is at an attempt to be justified [and those people are trying to justify literal racism and homophobia.]

“19-20 thing that the directors mentioned were Hobie’s early designs ideas but those eventually changed as his character changed. Even one of the directors said its up to interpretation plus even his VA was all hinty towards Gwen and hobie so honestly its up to you what his age is" - comfortingnightmare

As soon as the clip came out, I had started to see a number of people saying that, apparently, Hobie looked like he was in his 20s to his 30s** (while also throwing subtle/discreet hits towards the Punkflower ship), but this was after the clip came out.

**Literally saw someone on Tumblr say that he looked like 28, and trying to shut down the idea of Hobie being a teenager. Like be completely serious with me right now..

Things don’t quite add up here. This was because of WHAT Hobie only looked like, and now it just has to be racially motivated, as there are no solid explanations or reasonings for their behaviour and disgust. Those people just look bad [as they should.]

So, no, Hobie is not 19-20. Another director had confirmed that Hobie’s age is UP TO INTERPRETATION.

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[TLDR; The interview got taken completely out of context from a clip that made people start throwing SERIOUS accusations left and right.. Since more people actually later found out that the clip was taken out of context [instead of doing research], the situation died down, but people are walking on eggshells now. The haters were being desperate likely because Punkflower is a black queer/mlm relationship, since there is no solid explanation for this hating.]

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“So.. what can we interpret Hobie’s age as?”

That is where I come in! I have many reasons that can help you decide what Hobie's age is to you. And those many reasons are speculated on Hobie's age being 16-17, as many users already guess that Hobie's age is equivalent to a teenager's age. I also believe this idea, as there are many things that already support this thought process.

[But if you like.. (god, I hope nobody does) go through this list and conclude that Hobie is 18+ and continue to ship that Hobie and 15 yr old Miles (or any of the minors).. GTFOH.]

1. Hobie Brown in other media (I’m talking about the comics for instance) is commonly shown for Hobie to be a teenager at either 16 or 17 years old.

“Hobie is in fact labeled as ‘badmouthed teenager’ since 2014 and is 16-17 in the comics and that just because he doesnt have a confirmed/canonical age in ATSV, hes still in the age range of a teenager (16-18)" - luvvnobo

2. Topic of the spider-bite.

ATSV!Hobie is likely to be 16-17 years old (18 at the latest), meaning that he would have been bit at the ages of 13-15. So IF Hobie was bit 3 years ago / at 14 years old, then he would be 16-17.

Realistically, this really could have happened, considering Hobie’s living conditions! [aka what led to Hobie getting bit by a radioactive spider in the comics.] If he indeed gets bit at 14 years old (like how Miles and Gwen got bit at that age for example), then either 16 or 17 yrs old.

Again, with how he lived; if he got bit at 13 = 15-16 years old in crrnt events of ATSV. [If you don’t know of Hobie’s conditions, in the comics I’m pretty sure he, like, basically lived on the streets as a homeless teenager]

“During the "Spider-Verse" storyline, the Earth-138 version of Spider-Man is revealed to be Hobart Brown, originally operating as Spider-Punk. He is a homeless teenager who was transformed by a spider that was irradiated as part of President Norman Osborn's toxic waste dumping.” - Spider-Punk: Wikipedia

The topic of the bite / needing to know if Hobie was (x) age when he got bit, isn’t very serious, as he is already grouped with 3 kids.

3. It would be unlikely (and also weird) for a four man crew to be 3/4 teenagers and 1 adult;

WHILE ALSO implying that the mentioned ‘adult’ and one of the mentioned teenagers could’ve had something going on. [Even if nothing really happened (keyword = implying), and how Pavitr treated it in that way, implies that Hobie isn’t that much older than the three.] [I would have kept this reason combined with the Spider bite topic aka reason No.2, since it’s actually referenced off of pastelnightgale’s post, just that this paragraph alone is solid enough as a separate reason.]

4. Hobie’s mannerisms.

Note, I haven’t seen the movie, but I have seen many clips. From those clips, he’s definitely a teenager at least, it made me feel like Hobie was 16 or 17 years old. I’ve asked two of my brothers; they said that he definitely was their age [both being 17.]

“my two cents on the age debate is like. hobie doesn’t have the vibes of an adult even if his age is up to “interpretation”. like i’m eighteen and bro has definitely gotta be younger than that. he makes my “stupid younger sibling” sense go haywire." - ghostspider-isms

5. If you look up “how old is hobie brown”

You will already see many people speculating that Hobie is likely to be around the same age range as Miles and Gwen [if not a bit older.]

Again, Hobie is already 16-17 years old in the comics.

“in the spiderverse, we have seen that it is common for most spiders (gwen and miles specifically) to get bitten around 14. hobie states he’s been spider-man for three years, meaning he’s most likely 16-17." - artisan-is-bored

6. “Like if Hobie is really 19+ then why is it only a problem with Punkflower?? Wouldn’t the whole love triangle thing be a problem????" - saltylemonade13

Yes. It would be a SERIOUS problem. It also would make the other ships [Chaipunk, others with minors in them] very problematic and illegal ships. But Hobie isn't 18+.

7. Ageing down process happening to various characters in Spider Verse, and Hobie non affected?

If Gwen and the other spiders are aged down in Spiderverse, then it doesn’t make sense that Hobie was not aged down like the others.

8. Hobie literally hangs out around teenagers.

If an adult is constantly hanging out with other children, then that obviously would be the first problem. I wouldn’t really need to keep talking any more about this one. Because if a 19-20 year old was spending a majority of his time around young teenagers, ages ranging 15 through 17, and not really with anybody else his age or above, then yes, that’s already weird.

“it’s also implied that miles is jealous of gwen and hobie. why would the directors make a key plot point of the story be that hobie is a grown ass man hanging out with a bunch of teenagers? and that he might have a thing with one of them???" - artisan-is-bored

9. Genetics do not matter within age.

This is one of my most common quotes by now. Hobie is indeed very tall at almost 6 ft, yes. No, it does not mean that he is above 18+ years old. Hobie can be over 6 ft tall and still be 16-17 years old.

I have seen so many teenagers at drastically different heights, but still be the same age. Many of them being over 6 ft [180 cm], and still being in my age range, and having met a 5’10” 8th grader [aka 13 yrs old] years ago. Both of my previously-mentioned brothers are 6 ft and over 6 ft, yet they are only 17.

“people can look one age and be another." - artisan-is-bored

“hobie’s description as a character. hobie is a foul mouthed TEENAGER. that has been his description for the past five years." - artisan-is-bored

10. “how do i tell them Punkflower has been a thing since 2018 or 2019 and they have interacted in the comics (they are close in age)" - luvvnobo

11. “He has to be an adult, because he goes to pubs!!” Let’s be absolutely HONEST here.

“dude is BFF’s with the Riri of his universe, she can probably whip up a fake ID in no time and even if Riri isn’t in the Spiderverse, he still gets around and knows people. he’s definitely cool with someone who makes fake ID’s." - bellamer

What bellamer said. To add onto this, a pub is different from a BAR as well.

If you look up “what is a pub vs bar” your first result will be this.

To also add, all bars in England aren’t considered pubs.

“If you’re 16 or under, you may be able to go to a pub (or premises primarily used to sell alcohol) if you’re accompanied by an adult. However, this isn’t always the case. It can also depend on the specific conditions for that premises. It’s illegal to give alcohol to children under 5." From the official GOV of the UK website

But literally, let’s be honest here, Hobie would already know at least one person who will help him get in a pub, if he cannot do so himself. If Hobie is constantly going to pubs, then that does not mean he is getting drinks 24/7 when he is there, unless stated otherwise. Pubs focus on serving food and to give drinks [upon request] to go along with the meal.

Before 1995, children under the age of 14 were NOT allowed in pubs in England and Wales. And Hobie is definitely by no means 14. He is likely 16, or 17. He can already drink, with adult supervision, at 16 in pubs. But we know that Hobie is no law-abiding Spider-man.

12. “Hobie wouldn’t be able to own his own place!”

“it’s a key part of hobie’s comic backstory that he used to be homeless. once again, the breaking the law point still stands. wouldn’t be surprised if hobie bought an apartment with a fake ID, was squatting, or was staying in some sort equivalent of the community center that he used as his main group’s operation headquarters in the comics.” - artisan-is-bored

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I do not think that another director/anybody who worked on the movie will come out and say that Hobie is actually 18+ at this point. I CAN be wrong in the future, but right now, he is not, and there are my reasons for why I strongly agree with the idea of Hobie being a teenager.

ALTHOUGH, even IF a director comes out and says that ATSV!Hobie is actually 18+, obviously all of the ATSV!ships with him and the other minors should STOP RIGHT NOW. But as of now [06/13/23 (when I first wrote this)], and from what we already know, I do not see anything wrong with ATSV!Punkflower and my views.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

The racism revolving Punkflower is disgusting.

I’ve seen a lot of people bashing Punkflower when the whole misinfo-hobie-being-19/20-situation occurred, but ONLY with Punkflower [from what I’ve seen.] I didn’t see any of this happening to the other ships that Hobie is in / shipped with Gwen, and Pavitr.

I have not seen any, quite literally nobody, complaining about any other ship that isn’t Punkflower, and it’s insanely overwhelming and confusing?? People don’t complain when it comes to Hobie x Gwen, but if it’s with two queer black boys? Huge problem all of a sudden.

“Love how when it was Hobie and Gwen no one batted an eye but as soon as people started shipping two black males together all of a sudden everyone’s disgusted and outraged” - uglynavel

“none of y’all had a problem w gwen and hobie, but when hobie started getting shipped with miles and pav? y’all got pissed. get your racist and homophobic head out of your ass. even if hobie IS an adult in the movie, that still doesn’t mean that shipping him with miles in the comics suddenly isn’t valid. newsflash, gwen is MUCH OLDER than hobie in his universe.” - artisan-is-bored

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Other quotes, that I wanted to point out, but I didn’t sort them into a spot;

“There are a lot more weird problems in the ATSV fandom, yet people are worried about Flowerpunk and whether Hobie is of age, or not. Those problems are full on grown ass people sexualizing Miles, Gwen, and likely more. There’s already stuff about Peter B. and Miles ship, and THAT is an active problem on hand. More people need to worry about all of that instead of a guy who has an up-to-interpretation age (but is strongly, likely, a 16-17 year old if not an adult.)” - peachypea0ny

“I can’t even enjoy comic versions of punkflower without me being called a pedo or having multiple fucking comments telling me over and over that punkflower is a proship.” - uglynavel

“I’m sorry it’s just really not fucking fair what In THE ACTUAL MOVIE it can imply something between Gwen and Hobie but the SECOND people started shipping two black boys together then it became a huge fucking problem, here’s the thing if Hobie is actually older and they never say that in the movie but imply something to the audience that him and a sixteen year old girl could possibly have something between them THEN THATS GROSS I DONT CARE HOW GOOD THE MOVIE IS! But Hobie is always, in other crossovers and his comics he is around 16, he has met Miles before in canon the ship’s not new, it was just small.” - crownecromancer (Edited to make sense, by me, godunforgiving.)

“punkflower is originally a comic ship, its been around for ages before atsv, its normal for shippers to crossover into different areas where the same characters are. he doesnt have an age on his wiki and why would he be said to have a love triangle with gwen if he WAS 19/20, idk why ppl have such a problem with punkflower but not with hobie and gwen??” - raspberryjars

“this is what happens when you believe in misinformation on the internet. no, there is no age gap, because hobie does not even have a canon age. if you watch the interview, instead of 10 seconds of it, he says it was early concepts of hobie. another director has confirmed his age is up to interpretation.. so. yall rlly need to stop with this, its weird asl. this whole thing was rooted in racism and homophobia, stop spreading misinformation I BEG.” - spideyzpoolsp

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Another disclaimer/notice;

PLEASE, PLEASE STOP BELIEVING IN EVERYTHING THAT YOU SEE!! EVEN IN TIKTOK OR TUMBLR!

IF it’s a piece of information that could be misinformation revolving around Punkflower or Hobie Brown, or anything, DO find out if it is real or fake asap!

I’m using a method that I remember from my elementary school that was constantly talked about [can’t believe I’d bring it up in a post about a ship years later], however it really does pay out and work anywhere else tbh. The “Stop, Think, Act method”.

STOP = Pause, if it distresses you; then take a breath to calm down, avoid doing anything on impulse aka don't do anything without thinking carefully beforehand.

THINK = Instead of the “what is the problem, what are the options, best path forward?” in the method itself, we will reuse this but change stuff up that can apply directly to this post. So after stopping and calming down, we will think carefully and review what we already KNOW. If it’s where the piece of information is easily seen/known as misinfo, then you are good. If the piece of misinfo is affecting something that we already know, then we move onto the next step.

ACT = “Proceed with the best option. Act carefully, and revise if needed.” The best option forward from thinking, is to do research, and make sure that it is actually real, and not misinformation with lies laced within. IF it is indeed misinformation, then it is the best to alert others, with proof.

If you are thinking “But why even mention that method??” The best example to use this method is with the age discourse blowup. A LOT of people believed in the misinformation very, very fast. What should’ve happened is that the mentioned method should’ve occurred early, to help prevent most of the freak out and its damages. But many users may not have thought of that, or even know the method, so it is okay. At least it calmed down a lot as of now, just that people are now likely afraid.

[Note; I am NOT blaming anybody!! I also freaked out a bit too, but I stuck to what I already knew, until I found more information. At first I heard “Hobie is 19-20!!!!” I figured that it must’ve been misinfo through what I already knew, because adding all of what I knew and this uproar of info, it just didn’t add up from what I alrd knew. but I still researched and did my homework!! Just that more people should naturally second-guess things that they are suspicious of and also be aware of that method and to apply it online, as it is already useful in real life!]

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Wrapping this post up, finally.

It’s sad to see different Punkflower fans fight each other. But it’s also outrageous and annoying to see the plat!Punkflower shippers, who see Miles and Hobie strictly in a brotherly relationship, to throw the term ‘!ncest / pseudo-!ncest’ against the romantical Punkflower shippers.. Like holy shit, that doesn’t make you any better. Can people, please, stop throwing serious accusations against other people so nonchalantly?

These accusations are SO serious and life changing, even if it's pointed at the wrong person. But people are just too ignorant to realize that unfortunately.

“You see him (Hobie) as 19/20 who’s a big brother to the other spiders? Cool! You see him as 16/17 rebel teen amazing!” - hamiltonforpowerpoint

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

End post.

Reblogs, likes, and comments of your own opinions of this post are so welcome!

Again, ily all and take care of yourselves!!

and again, if anything you think that should be added onto the post, let me know! have a great day everybody

A friend asked what’s up with the discourse, asked me to make a post, after hours of research - I absolutely fucking DELIVERED. Love you guys.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Edit #1 (06/15); had to reformat some things since it just looked broken to me! Using the editor on mobile is a PAIN.. 0/10.

Edit #2 (06/16); an edit update! I rewrote some things (to hope to make the post sound more better), added some stuff in the notes section and some throughout the post itself, updated the crediting so the quotes used are credited and linked back to hell!!!! bc crediting others is awesome! and the post is also def over 4.2k words lol

Edit #3 (06/17); An anon told me that I was “misusing” the 'proship' term, so I edited the post. Proshitters can go to hell for all I care. To clarify, I am talking about problematic shippers. Edit #4 (06/19); oh my god 600+ notes?? i hope all of you are having an EXCELLENT month okay.. i love you guys <3 /plat

Edit #5 (06/21); I am muting this! I saw some people reply to this post, but I just do not have the ability to respond to them (Selective mutism), I did write “drafts” to them, but I do not feel like polishing it and responding. Just busy with other things, honestly! I may end up responding some time later, so yeah. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

Every once a few weeks I may check up on this post as well, until I stop altogether.

2K notes · View notes

cloudwhisper23 · 3 months

Text

I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don��t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

#cloud writes #werebunny au #jeremy fitzgerald #ramona fitzgerald #michael afton #evan afton #cc fnaf #cassidy fnaf #cw violence #cw injury #cut right through me

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inkblot22 · 4 months

Text

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream?

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together.

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you.

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open.

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t…

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears.

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves.

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage.

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?”

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together.

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say.

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you.

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today,

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff.

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does.

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw.

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily.

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you.

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

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bonefall · 15 days

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Is there any one particular bit in Ivypool's heart that really stands out concerning wanting to tackle it in BB (be it lovingly or with violence)?

I'll do you two; a loving tackle and a violent tackle!

VIOLENT TACKLE:

Dovewing and Ivypool do NOT have a good relationship in BB, and furthermore, I absolutely refuse to let Ivypool be a healthy and well adjusted individual at this point in her life. ABSOLUTELY not. The Erins have dropped a raw steak at my feet and given me an opportunity to display BB!Ivypool's Dovewing Derangement Syndrome on full blast and I am shaking it like Whistlepaw shakes a newborn baby.

I was really craving someone on this journey not being patient with Ivypool, and seeing her act unreasonably on her pain and loss.

I wanted to see her get nasty with someone, and have them fight back. I wanted to see someone get angry that she was insensitive towards them when they've ALL gone through similar things. It kinda felt like everyone on this journey was there to give Ivypool therapy, not work out their issues as a group.

For BB, I also want to give Dovewing and Ivypool some soft moments of mutual understanding, but... in the end, they do not reconcile because Dovewing does not want to.

And that's okay.

Ivypool will think she NEEDS her sister and her acknowledgement to move on, to have her accept an apology (which, truthfully, Ivypool doesn't entirely believe in) because it's SOME kind of closure when she won't get that with Bristlefrost... but she doesn't.

Moving on and healing is about the life you make in the wake of that loss. It's not Dovewing's responsibility to give her sister what she craves, it's up to Ivypool to make meaning in her own life. It's about the friends she will find, the wide world there is to discover, and the ways she can make things better for the Clans in Bristlefrost's name.

Even when the bridge is burned... the river still runs.

(As a side note, I've also TOTALLY gotta work in a moment where Ivy and Dove come across their mom, Cinderheart, while she's out traveling with their aunt/stepmom Fallenleaf. This is the perfect opportunity for Ivypool to let out a bunch of anger she has towards them, but also have them get a little involved in the new supernatural stuff!)

Special mention to the Sisters stuff; in BB they are not Evil Neglectful Bad Moms Who Hate Men. Beach and Slate will be tweaked. I am already imagining a scene where Rootspring gets to have a Cool Older Brother moment and show off some cool tricks he figured out with his talisman.

(in BB, the male sisters don't genetically inherit the ability to see ghosts, they have a special necklace crafted for them that lets them call spirits without the need of a large group.)

(Slate also will not be needing a rename, because Slate DOTC has a full name now-- Slate Keeper. I'm still working on her, but she's essentially The Wind Runner's secretary.)

POSITIVE TACKLE:

DEFINITELY the "River of Souls," along with StormClan and the Wildcats. I'm still wary of the Wildcats and the way the Erins could possibly dip into some weird "genetic superiority" stuff in the future, but they actually did a pretty good job introducing them!

I love the way that Wildcat religion is essentially that everything is connected by three elements, and that their unique belief system allows them to travel between afterlives. I adore this so much that I'm going to start thinking of the various "afterlives" in BB as having a primary element which influences how they behave.

Silverpelt and Skypelt are primarily Wind-Element systems. This makes them mobile and powerful, but highly subjected to the whims of the living.

The Tribe of Endless Hunting is primarily a Water-Element system. It's a very present element, flexible and easy for individuals to access while also allowing spirits to interact with the mortal plane.

The Guardian's Firmament is primarily an Earth-Element system. They require setup and investment on behalf of their followers, in return for giving worshippers a very powerful and intimate connection to the land.

All afterlives contain a mix of elements, but have "affinities." I also immediately saw a juicy opportunity to introduce the idea that Wildcats dance around addressing "fire" as an element, considering it forbidden, or at the very least, wild and unpredictable.

One Eye, who created the Dark Forest as a curse, is a God of Summer. So the Place of No Stars is absolutely a Fire-Element-- and I'm going to keep it loose until I understand what that looks like better. I want to save a little bit of wiggle room for future Wildcat appearances.

I'm also warming up to the idea that the Sisters have some Wildcat influence. I'm probably going to adjust their lore a bit to make them a mixture of Tribe culture and Wildcat culture. I've got a budding idea that, because Wildcats are rare and their population is scattered, they have a sort of concept of like... "Making A Home Where You Are," no matter where that is, or what culture they become part of.

So I like the idea a lot that this "river" is part of that. They maintain a connection to each other, across distances. The Guide of a Wildcat kitten is their mentor, both in terms of spiritual and physical training.

I'll also be needing a new name for this rework. Part of me really wants to call it "Ivypool's Loss," both for the angle of grief and also for the meme lmao. But, "Ivypool's Catharsis" also works very nicely... and if I go with "Ivypool's Awakening" the abbreviation is IPA and I can make beer jokes.

#better bones au #clan culture #spirituality overhauls #ivypool's heart spoilers #Ivypool's Awakening #BB!Ivypool's Heart

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bytedykes · 1 year

Text

one thing i noticed (and loved!!!!) in nimona is the different eye-shine shapes. specifically the way they changed as the story progressed, specifically focusing on ballister and ambrosius

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister speaking. They both have a similarly shaped, rhomboid, square diamond eye shine. /end ID]

in this first scene their eyeshines are a very similar square diamond shape. they still share it right after the part where ambrosius cuts ballister's arm off

[ID: screenshots of the two of them looking at each other, both still with a matching eyeshine shape. /end ID]

however immediately after, when ballister falls through the hole in the platform we get a brief shot of his face:

[ID: slightly blurry closeup of Ballister's face. His eye shines now seem more square. /end ID]

later we see ballister creating his new arm, and immediately after when nimona knocks on the door we see his eyes again, and the shines are completely square. not really any ambiguity to it, the tilt of them is entirely gone

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, the eyeshines now square with the flat edge on the bottom. /end ID]

ballister isnt super consistent with this, but from here on his eyeshines remain mostly square. there are a few moments when they tilt again to resemble how they were in the first scene, eg. when he's telling nimona he's not a villain, and when she reminds him that ambrosius cut off his arm and he tells her its complicated, as well as more later that i wont get into now

[ID: screenshots of the above mentioned scenes, in both Ballister's eyeshines have a more oblong rhomboid vertically-oriented shape. /end ID]

BUT!!! a bit later, when he and nimona bump into ambrosius as they're breaking out of the castle,

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister looking at each other, both again with diamond shaped eyeshines. /end ID]

wow look at that they match again! ballister's are a bit more square and ambrosius's are more elongated, but again they have a very similar shape! however immediately after...

[ID: closeups of Ballister's face. In the first his eyeshines are square, in the second they are more diamond shaped. /end ID]

the first screenshot here is when he says "did you see the way he looked at me?" to nimona. the second is right after he says "he really thinks I killed the queen." by this point you probably can tell where i'm going with this post

also this is the part where i just now noticed nimona's upper earring on her left ear is a star hoop :) very neat

nimona snaps ballister out of his daze (square again), makes him promise he wont freak out (still square) and then he rides off on rhino-nimona (square). when he sees and almost runs over ambrosius in the hallway, the brief seconds he's looking at him, his eyeshines tilt again into a diamond. no screenshot of this one because it's hard to get the timing right on motion shots

when ballister wakes up back at the lair they're square again

[ID: screenshot of Bal in the lair, his eyeshines square. /end ID]

when he's looking at the photo wall (at ambrosius's photo specifically) i expected them to become diamonds again, but here they stay square! i am quickly realizing this post is mostly an excuse to stare closely at ballister's big baby seal eyes

[ID: screenshot of Ambrosius's photo, where his eyeshines are upright triangles. /end ID]

in the photo ambrosius's eyeshines are triangles which isn't a shape we've seen on him before. i dont think this really means anything though its just neat

skipping to the part where ambrosius says he'll be the one to hunt down ballister, his eyeshines are triangular here too, in person this time

[ID: closeup of Ambrosius's face. His eyeshines are triangular. /end ID]

during his declaration to "find ballister, and bring him to me" however his eyeshines are briefly diamond shaped again

[ID: Ambrosius looking down in sadness or resignation, with diamond eyeshines. /end ID]

back to bal. in the subway, both nimona's version of ballister and the real ballister have square eyeshines.

[ID: Nimona-as-Ballister with a pathetic expression, and the real Ballister with a disapproving one. Both have square eyeshines. /end ID]

in the next scene where the knights are looking at the subway footage, ambrosius's eyeshine shape has changed again:

[ID: closeups of Ambrosius's face. He has oblong reverse triangle eyeshines. /end ID]

they are now long triangles. my eyesight isnt awesome so the first time i watched this part i thought they were hearts :) but theyre triangles

i dont have it in me to rewatch the entire movie for this post so skipping to way later when ballister is trying to convince ambrosius the director is the one behind the queen's murder. the lines said are important here too

[ID: Ambrosius's face right before Ballister pulls out the phone with the video proof. Second image is Ballister's face after the phone is shot from his hand. Ambrosius has diamond eyeshines and Bal has square ones. /end ID]

the line bal is saying in that screenshot is "it doesn't matter. you shouldn't need proof. you know i'm not a murderer." then:

[ID: Ambrosius is pointing a sword at Ballister. Ballister's eyeshines are square, Ambrosius's are hard to see but resemble diamonds. /end ID]

AND THEN:

[ID: Ambrosius looking up at Nimona when she shoots into the air. His eyeshines are triangles. /end ID]

during their nacho meetup at the [checks notes] tavern? bar? nacho place? whatever. their eyeshines are square and triangle respectively

[ID: three consecutive shots of their conversation. Ballister has square eyeshines; then Ambrosius has triangular eyeshines; the last picture is of Ambrosius putting his hand over Ballister's prosthetic one. /end ID]

their shapes remain this way for a while until a key moment where ballister looks at nimona's rampage and realizes he fucked up BAD

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, with distinctly diamond eyeshines. Behind him a fire rages. /end ID]

it's not clear in the screenshot but the fire in the background is ALSO diamond shaped which probably means nothing but again, is pretty neat

and then yeah basically from there their eyeshines stay the same shape to the end of the movie including the epilogue. i cant add any more images to this post though so i will have to stop here!!! just take my word for it. their (i say their but i really mean ballister's, because ambrosius doesn't get any more good eye shots after the beginning of the epilogue) stay their respective shape until the very end

"wow, nik, this post was beyond pointless" you might be thinking and yeah maybe!!! this may be all coincidence and i may be looking for things that are not even remotely there!!! but guess what i sat here for over an hour taking screenshots and putting this post together so by god i WILL see it to its end

my idea is that the changing eyeshine shapes represent their paths splitting and then coming back together again. at the beginning they have the same eyeshine shape; they're together, they understand each other, they think the same way. (this is a good time for me to note that the director's eyeshine shape is also a vertically oriented rhombus.)

then the betrayal happens. ballister kills the queen, ambrosius cuts of ballister's arm. they still have the same eyeshine shape here; but then ballister falls and ambrosius doesn't fall with him. this is where they separate - this is the betrayal

after making himself a prosthetic ballister's eyeshines are a different shape, more clearly now. he is apart from ambrosius, they're no longer a unit. however his eyeshines still appear as diamonds occasionally, namely in moments where he's with or thinking about ambrosius (or the institute, im mainly thinking of the "im not a villain" line when he's thinking i'm still a knight, i'm still good)

ambrosius's eyeshines are still the same diamond-like shape. when he and ballister see each other again they briefly share a shape again. it's not as similar anymore, and they're not the same as they were. there's still this rift of betrayal between them. but in that moment they're having, well, a moment

in the closet when he's thinking of ambrosius's betrayal (did you see the way he looked at me?) his eyeshines change between square and diamond

then cut to ambrosius, who's eyeshines are also a different shape now: when he's formalizing his betrayal to he and ballister's relationship, officially declaring that he will be the one to hunt him down. but there's a moment where his armor is being put on where he looks down with guilt and diamond shaped eyeshines

i dont even want to talk about the subway footage part because i still keep mistaking the long triangles for hearts which is killing me. killing me DEAD. if his eyeshines were really hearts when he was saying things like "something doesn't feel right, he hates freestyle jazz" i think i'd just explode or something. moving on

during the confrontation at the institute, before ballister tries to pull out the phone and is telling ambrosius he has proof, ambrosius's eyeshines are diamonds! just like in the beginning! i think here it's more representative of how he wants to believe ballister, despite the director whispering in his ear not to, how he badly wants for all of this to be a misunderstanding and for proof that ballister didn't betray the institute, didn't betray him. he doesn't want to lose his best friend (and more)

but ballister's eyeshines are square here- like he says a few seconds later, "you shouldn't need proof." he's being betrayed again, ambrosius doesn't believe in him after all. but even when pointing a sword at ballister he looks at him with diamond eyeshines. when nimona begins doing her thing his eyeshines are triangles again, like he and ballister are fully diverging paths again

you get the idea. their eyeshines are representing of their emotions about, and relationship with each other. so then why don't they go back to the diamond shape at the end of the movie? why are their eyeshines different even when it's clear that they've made up, they're happy now, things are different?

well i DO have an explanation for this. things are different now! they're no longer under the thumb of the institute (is this a good time to mention again that the director's eyeshines are also diamonds), a section of the wall is down, the kingdom is different! it's changing!

and so have they! the way i'm choosing to read into this, is that they're not the same people as they were at the beginning of the movie. they're not both brainwashed into thinking the same way, having the same ideology where cutting off your boyfriend's arm instead of disarming him isn't only justifiable, it's what's expected. now they're their own people, who aren't under constant pressure of a legacy or an institute. they've grown! and now it's okay that they don't think the exact same, because they love each other, and are now capable of loving each other like this

tldr this movie is great i love it here :)

obviously this might all just be a coincidence and im just overthinking it lol but whatever i spent this long reading into it i might as well hit post

edit: people have mentioned that ND retweeted stuff relating to this so it IS intentional! yayy i love being right

also for the love of god do not add undescribed images to this post. it takes like two seconds to describe a screenshot just use the same formula ive used for every single image here. please i can't keep doing this

#nimona #nimona spoilers #nimona 2023 #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona meta #i think?? does this count as meta #oh yeah read my fucking post boy #goldenheart

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months

Text

Fic Finder

May 22nd

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1. Wanting to find a modern AU. The one scene I recall was in a parking lot, I think: the Jiangs are confronting WY, who had been at a party with LZ, possibly in order to see JYL. JC finds out about the sacrifice WY made for him. It was something to do with college tuition money this time around. Possibly YZY and WY both let the others think WY left of his own accord? @linderel

FOUND! 🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) could be near the end

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2. hello i am looking for a fic where wex was adopted into the wen sect. the scene i remember most is when wwx used a talisman to flatten himself so he can get through a door. id appreciate all the help thank you so much ♥️

FOUND! Communal Child-Rearing and Other Diplomatic Necessities by Elpie (Horribibble) (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR/WRH, Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

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3. for the next fic finder, can someone help me with a oneshot sickfic i have been finding for too long ;; i think the main premise was ljy pushing wwx into a pond bc he was upset, and so wwx got unwell (and didnt tell anyone?) thank you for the hard work!

FOUND? Some Days. by jollytortoise (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Shock, Horror)

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4. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian returns back from the dead in Mo xuanyu's body but he lost all his memories. He doesn't remember his name or any of the events of the past. He is saved by Lan zhan and the juniors as soon as he wakes up and they take him to Gusu where he lives and falls in love with Lan zhan. Lan zhan also falls in love with him but he is conflicted beacuse he feels like he's betraying wei wuxian. In the end, he remembers and they get together.

FOUND? Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

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5. hi!! for the next fic finder — im looking for a wlw wangxian one where lwj was a cultivator(?) who sailed the ocean looking for resentful energy(??) (i dont remember) and one day she picks up mermaid wwx. i dont remember much other than wwx getting dry and turning into human, staying on her boat, and being curious about her own human anatomy which leads to lwj fucking her in every surface available. it Has plot. please help 🥺🥺🥺🫶🫶🫶

FOUND! 💖 splash;; by defractum (nyargles) (E, 11k, wangxian, F/F, modern cultivation, Gender Changes, Merpeople, Humanfucking, the opposite of monsterfucking, Rule 63)

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6. FF request! This is a modern au. I think wwx, lwj, lxc, nmj, nhs and maybe also jc, jyl, jzx, wq and wn, go on some sort of vacation under the excuse of night hunting. They finish a night hunt really quickly and then nmj (as the oldest and only sect leader?) is basically like, I don't care what you guys do, this is my vacation. They're all staying in the same house and divide into rooms by couple. Any ideas are much appreciated! Thank you!

FOUND? 🔒 Night Hunts and Getaways by Netrixie (T, 7k, LXC/NMJ, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC/NHS, WWX & LXC, NHS could be a criminal mastermind, if he really wanted to, but he uses his powers for good, the plot exists merely for LXC to get some dick, so don't think too hard about it, Modern Cultivation, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, LXC centric, treating canon with gleeful irreverence, ships other than nielan are background, Attempt at Humor) It's part of a series.

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7. Hi! This is for Fic Finder. ☺️

I'm trying to find two fics. I don't remember much, unfortunately.

A) It's a time travel in which WWX comes back in time and go to visit WQ to convince her that he is from future and both make a long term plan to eliminate all the "bad guys".

B) It's also a time travel, but this time WWX is found by the Wens and is raised with the heirs of WR. The scene I remember quite well is one in witch LWJ is fighting with one of the Wen heirs (don't remember who, not WQ or WN) and when the Wen is going to attack LWJ, he sees the red ribbon that WWX gifted to LWJ. This means that LWJ is WWX's love (and fiance maybe?) so the Wen decided not to attack LWJ and it's killed.

I hope you can help me, thanks for everything!

🥰💕 @wangxiansgirl

7A)

FOUND? Here With Me ‘verse Series by iamwish (T/G, 80k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, Character Death, Blood and Gore, BAMF WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, there’s some elements of, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, POV JYL, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death)

FOUND? We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, Minor ChenLi, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It)

7B)

FOUND? When Flowers Spring from Killing Things by windsweptice (B0redaf) (Not rated, 100k, wangxian, Wen WWX, Demonic Cultivation, WWX Has No Golden Core, he's got a resentful one instead, Yīn Iron, WRH pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Sentient Burial Mounds, XY Is A Little Shit, WQ pov, Protective WWX, Protective WQ, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective WN, LXC pov, BAMF WWX, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ, Good Person WX, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Weddings) the scene with the ribbon being spotted is in Chapter 18

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8. Hi so I'm trying to find a podfic that I listen to few years ago I don't remember a lot about it but I do remember that wei ing wen ing and wen qing went to his nephew's naming ceremony or birthday I forget and Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian we're alive and there for their grandson's naming ceremony or birthday and I remember that madam yu come up to wei ing and took his wrist and like looked if he had a golden core she was like I don't know how she reacted but she respected him because he gave his golden cord to his little brother and like I don't know much I can't remember much but I do remember there was a scuffle and all that I'm just trying to find this podfic if you can find it please tell me if you can't well at least you tried @constancebloodstone

FOUND? seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

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9. Hello! For fic finder: I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian was cursed to lie / say the opposite of what he truly thought. But everyone thought he was cursed to tell the truth, so when he says all kinds of horrible things to people they believe him thinking that he has been compelled to say what he really thinks of them. The curse is only broken after people realize he is lying (not truthing). Wei Wuxian then has a series of conversations with the various characters as he reassures them that he was lying and that he didn’t mean whatever he said. He also has some angst about how people so easily thought the worst of him / believed his lies. This plot is so clear in my head but I just can’t find it in my ao3 history! Please, can anyone find this? Thank you in advance <3 <3

FOUND? A Kiss of True Love to break a Curse by Wangxian101 (T, 5k, WangXian, Teenage Wangxian, Not Canon Compliant, kiss of true love, curse of lies, truth curse, Angst, Fluff, When the only way to break the curse is to kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Teen Angst, They are in love your honour, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, there is only one brain cell in this group and it belongs to JC, LXC is the biggest wangxian shipper, jc is a good bro, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Gremlin WWX, Happily Every After, LXC will gut anyone who hurts his precious little brother, True Love's Kiss, JC is an awkward bean, LWJ POV, WWX POV, WWX is a closet romantic, WWX loves his romance novels, Protective JC, JC loves his gremlin brother, Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, it all works out in the end)

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10. Hi 👋🏼 can you please find me this fic . It was WIP when I came across it. idk if it has been updated or not . The story went like meng yao , xue yang, and Wei Ying all end up in Burial Mounds as kids, and they are adopted by the ghost ? Of a queen of a fallen kingdom. I think the wens had something to do with the destruction of the kingdom.

FOUND? The Kids Are Okay (I Think) by GossamerGlint (Not Rated, 80k, JGY & WWX, WWX & XY, WWX & JGY & XY, WangXian, WIP, give wwx jgy and xy a mom agenda, but not just any mom, powerful ghost empress mom with a revenge plot :), Royalty AU, Prince WWX, Prince JGY, Prince XY, Burial Mounds, Yílíng Wèi Sect, more like yiling xue sect, its... complicated, illustrated when the mood strikes)

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11. HEYYYYY!! there was this pretty woman fusion of wangxian, can you please find it?????

FOUND? A Sure Thing by ElDiablito_SF (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern, Pretty Woman Fusion, Prostitution, Unsafe Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempted Sexual Assault, You'd think this would be wild and kinky, but actually they're soft and gross, past Zhancheng and they're still friends, Prostitute WWX, rich asshole LWJ, fashion bitch LWJ, Shoe Porn, background attempted Xiyao, Drinking to Cope, physical assault, Villain JGY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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12. For fic finder: It was a canon-divergent or post-canon fic where someone reminds Wei Wuxian that the juniors grew up in a time of peace and so they don’t have war-instincts (like startle reflexes or ptsd from battle, and in general they are too trusting). I think the juniors too were warned that the older generation is more jumpy because of what they had been through when they were teens, and so they shouldn’t sneak up on Wei Wuxian. Unfortunately I don’t remember any of the actual plot, just this bit about the differences between the generations.

FOUND? tell some storm by qurbat (G, 31k, wangxian, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, liberal amounts of outsider POV, the legend of wangxian, how to create a romance epic for dummies) since wwx has a conversation with lsz in chapter 2 about wwxs generation being one of war

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13. hello dear, I was looking for a ff where wei wuxian left with a-yuan after wen remnants are dead. NHS secretly send them materials anonymously. After NMJ died, NHS come to wei wuxian to find his brother's body.

FOUND? Innocence by snowberryrose (G, 8k, WangXian, Introspection, Family, Canon Divergence)

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14. I wanted you to find a fic I read and lost among the saved ones I have. it was where the lans protected wwx and the time wwx saw them protecting him. I think it was 4 parts and 1. I just remember that. thank you if you find it and sorry for disturbing

FOUND? one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

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15. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where wangxian were already married ig but don't love each other just yet and one day wy faints due to lack of scenting so they start as ordered by lqr. At the end or something wy leaves lwj for a bit because he's angry that lwj told him to stand up for himself when jiangs insult him, but he comes back after lwj apologises to wn for slapping him. Also I think its jiang corp and lan corp kinda stuff and wy is stuck in btw. Thank you sm I know this is confusing so sorry @tinkalb

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16. I'm looking for some fics where Wei Ying achieves some sort of mastership(?) in cultivation. I think there were two of them that I read which had this idea... but I'm not sure now. I vaguely recall that he had to travel quite a bit to get to an instituion of some sort and there was a series of tests that he had to pass. I think there might also be something about him having to save up the money for it. Thanks!

FOUND? 🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 179k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war) For #16 of the recent Fic Finder with WWX getting mastership in a cultivation field, there’s a chance it might be Truth Will Out by KizuKatana. The only thing is, WWX doesn’t actually achieve mastership, but he goes to Gus’s LAN to apply for a teaching job for talismans, and LWJ won’t consider him for multiple reasons including that WWX doesn’t have a master’s license (something like that)

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17. Hi, love your blog. Thanks for sharing such great content always! I would like to please request your assistance with finding a fic, it's driving me crazy because I thought I saved it. It's a modern au and lwj and wwx are coworkers and lwj is really shocked because wwx just came back from the dead 13 years later and he's acting normal in the office. Wwx has no idea he was dead the whole time. Please let me know if you know of it, thank you! @qilin-world

FOUND? A Ghost Story by Anonymous (E, 51k, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Modern with Magic, Mentions of Major Character Death, Resurrection, (the character death is not permanent), grave desecration, Grief/Mourning, Panic Attacks, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Self-Harm, (the gore/body horror/self-harm all take place in dreams but they are still graphic), Compulsory Heterosexuality, internalized kinkshaming, Consensual Non-Consent, Masturbation, Bondage, WWX is a Manic Pixie Dead Boy) this fic has everything but WWX was only dead for three years, not thirteen

FOUND? Exactly what he wanted by Rookseeksraven (E, 32k, WangXian, Modern, Sex Cam Worker LWJ, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Housing Insecurity, Inaccurate sex cam work, Inaccurate sex, weirdo4weirdo, Masturbation, Vibrators, Creampie, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Unsafe Sex, they're really horny, Switch WangXian, Bathroom Sex, Office Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Cock Ring, Gags, Light Bondage, Nipple Piercings, Internalized Homophobia, not Jiang friendly, Slight LQR bashing, Getting Together, Secret Identity)

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18. Thnks for your work! I'm looking for a modern au fic. Teens WWX and LWJ were chess players who knew each during junior competitions. WWX struggled to befriend LWJ until he got LWJ to invite him to his house. They meet again at a chess competition and they kiss. Everything is ruined when SMS (¿?) accuses WWX of cheating and nobody believes in his innocence. WWX abandons the competition and don't contact LWJ. 13 years pass and LWJ faces WWX again in another competition but he is disguised as MXY

FOUND? Trebuchet by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, they’re chess players in this, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, rocky reunions, Good Uncle LQR, best boy wn, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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19. Hello, for fic finder, can u help me find a fic with wangxian fake dating? I remember a particular scenario where, during the wen doctrine WWX asks LWJ to marry him expecting rejection but LWJ agrees. And our sweet sweet WWX proposes to fake a relationship and not bcoz he was head over heels in love with LWJ. I don't remember anything else from the fic. Sorry. Can you help me? @grrumpywoof

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20. greetings! i'm trying to find a fic where jyl is the one who time travels. her younger counterpart is still present, so she takes street kid wwx and lives in wen territory. she falls in love with wen qing & ning's (mother? father?) and discovers cooking cultivation. she assassinates wrh with it, allowing wwx to meet lwj as he gets older.

FOUND! 後悔莫及 (Too Late for Regrets) by liverbiver9 (T, 20k, JYL/OC, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, JYL-centric, POV JYL, Genderqueer WWX, Trans Male Character, Kid Fic, Child WWX, Fluff and Angst, Family Feels, Found Family, WWX is a Wen, technically, Assassination Attempt(s), WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Minor MianQing, No Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, Everybody Lives, mentioned minor character death, Gender Non-Conforming WWX, Trans WWX)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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throneofsmut · 9 months

Text

Bound In Flames - Part 7

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister-Reader || WC: 8.1k || Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and trauma.

Summary: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A/N: The wolf in this part ( you’ll know once you get to that part of fic ) is basically like the wolves from twilight for reference. Size wise at least. But still it’s a little bigger than that. He's also heavily inspired by Tairn from fourth wing. Him and reader's bond is similar to the bond Violet and Tairn have.

****

Your tear stained cheek was pressed against your bent knee as you sat before the Yew Tree where the Summer Court Faerie was now buried. Fingers pulling and ripping the plush green spring grass beneath you.

Warm tears continued to wet your skin as you sat there and quietly said the prayer usually said when an Illyrian passed.

Voice cracking as you recited it, grateful that no one was around to hear the grief that was thick in your throat for a faerie you didn’t even know.

“Once soaring through skies with grace and might.

Now grounded and wounded in a fateful plight.

Though grounded they stand their soul takes flight.

Denying a flightless fate welcoming death's sweet embrace.

May the wings that once soared high carry their spirit to eternal skies.

So let us remember the fallen ones who will now become a star and be one with the night.

May they fly in the beautiful skies of immortal land of milk and honey.

Feel the wind beneath their wings.

The warm breeze a loving caress against skin.

As they lose themselves in the songs of the wind once again.”

Looking up at the stars, you searched the skies, as if you’d be able to see a whisper of the Summer Court faerie flying above you. Free from pain and suffering. Free from Amarantha. Letting out a deep sigh when you didn’t and stared at the grave at the base of the Yew Tree.

You sniffled and then let out a shuddering breath, “I am so sorry I was late. Maybe—maybe if I had gone Under the Mountain as soon as I got into Prythian, Amarantha would’ve been too focused on me to take your wings.”

Pulling out a small dagger from your pocket, cutting across your palm, letting your blood flow onto the earth. “Before I kill her or before she kills me… I’ll kill whoever she ordered to butcher you—your wings.” You swore.

Too drained to care to wrap your hand, you just sat there letting the darkness of the night comfort you. As it always did. But then you heard it: almost like a whisper, as if cloth were dragging over root and stone.

Nostrils flaring as you scented the air, without a doubt knowing who it was. The tall, thin veiled figure in dark tattered robes, came to sit next to you.

Then slowly, it turned to you, the dark veil draped over its bald head blowing in a phantom breeze. “Hello, Darkling.” Click, click went its fingers against each other, one for each word.

“Hello, old friend.”

The Suriel sniffed the air, once. Twice. “You’re bleeding.” Its fingers clicking again. You didn’t look at them, not even as its robes rustled as if it was looking for something.

Then you heard the sound of cloth tearing. A moment later it’s too long fingers gently gripped your hand—carefully—to not touch the cut on your palm. Then it wrapped the piece of their torn robe around your hand. Squeezing your fingers before putting your now bandaged hand back in your lap. “She knows you’re in Prythian. She’s hunting you.”

“I know.” You said quietly.

“The faeries she sends into these lands are hunting you, faeries like the naga,” It said, its voice was at once one and many, old and young, beautiful and grotesque. “Her ilk will continue to invade these lands on her orders. To find you.”

You felt the Suriel’s eyes on you as you looked down at your wrapped hand. Then at the Suriel. They had torn the cleanest part of their robe to bandage you. “Thank you,” you gave them a small smile, it was all you could muster at the moment and they nodded their head in understanding.

“You know you’re being hunted, so why are you still out here all alone.” Not a question, but a mere fact.

As if on cue the grass brush a couple yards in front of you rustled, the Suriel and you looked up and you smiled knowing who was there. Without looking away from the blue glowing eyes that were now set on you. “I’m not alone.”

The Suriel only chuckled, “No, you are not.”

Moment of silence passed before you spoke again, “You know if I knew you were coming I would’ve brought you a new cloak,” you glanced at the old tattered cloak they wore.

“Well, I didn’t have time to schedule an appointment, my lady.” They said sarcastically, earning a chuckle from you.

“Fair enough. Meet me here tomorrow night and I’ll bring you a new cloak.”

Their dark tattered robes rustled as they stood and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Thank you,” It’s fingers clicking in time with the words it spoke. Then they looked toward the grass brush again where those glowing blue eyes still watched you, “Get her back to the manor. It’s not safe out here.” They said to the owner of those blue glowing eyes, but all the Suriel got back was a low growl in response.

You don’t know how much time passed after the Suriel left, didn’t care, all that mattered were those blue eyes that stared back at you. Slowly you stood up from your spot in the grass and walked towards the grass brush. The same time you stood up, it did too, but it didn’t make a move. It was unnaturally still and silent. Until you spoke his name, “Raihn.” So quiet, it was barely a whisper but you know he heard you by the way his ears twitched.

Then it was walking out to meet you, slowly. Menacingly.

“Raihn. . . It’s me. It’s me, Y/n” you whispered, you didn’t know who could be out here. Listening. Watching. He stalked closer, the night shielding most of him, all you could see were his eyes. Until he was right in front of you. Illuminated by the moonlight you could finally see him. He was bigger than you remembered, then again that was 10 years ago. He had always been huge but now he was massive. His fur was pure white and he had to be at least 10 feet in length and over 6 feet tall from paw to shoulders.

“Raihn, it’s me. Please. Please, you have to remember me.” Your eyes filled with tears as you pleaded. He had to remember you, because you could never forget him.

Your mother told you that her mother used to tell her stories about a rare species of wolves that hailed from the north. From deep in the mountains of the Night Court. They only ever bonded with the Lords and Princes of Illyria, if they were loyal, cunning, brave and possessed the raw killing power.

The wolves used to fight beside them in battle and the more killing power the Illyrian possessed then the stronger the bond between them was. If the bond was strong enough they could channel power into each other and share it, but if one of them was killed in battle the other would fall too even if they were physically unharmed.

It had been centuries since the last wolf had bonded with an Illyrian. Until you. Since you could remember, Raihn had always been by your side until you had to disappear.

Your lips quivered as you spoke, voice cracking, “Raihn.” You slowly stuck your hand out so he could scent you. His snout twitched, once. Then twice. He looked back at you—assessing—then growled, so low, you felt the ground beneath you shake.

The massive wolf’s lips curled back as he bared his teeth inches away from your face. You know he’s confused because he can still scent your true scent beneath the blood spell your mother used on you. Which also changed your physical appearance. If only you could touch him—restoring the bond—then you could talk to him and he could talk to you.

You let out a sharp breath, knowing what you had to do. You tried to brace yourself for the pain you knew you were about to feel, it would only allow him to see you—the real you if only for a couple seconds. But still he would see you and then he’d remember who you are to him.

“Nochd.”

As soon as you uttered the word which meant reveal in the old language, your entire body felt as if it was being ripped apart yet it put back together. Your veins felt as if they were on fire by the coldest flames. Gasping for breath felt like you were drowning in scorching hot water, your lungs expanding and constricting. And your head felt like it was going to explode.

Then nothing.

It was nearly dawn when you felt something nudging your face and hand. You could barely hear the whimpers over the blood roaring through your ears. Your entire body felt heavy and sore as you lifted your hand and felt fur: soft and warm.

Raihn.

His head was still nudging your face. Turning to look at him, really look at him. He has deep scarred scratches on the right side of his face but he wasn’t blinded. And most of his right ear was gone, “You’re as beautiful as the day I last saw you.” He flinched hearing your voice, hoarse from the pain inflicted from the blood spell.

You’re hurt. Stop talking, he orders. His voice deep and gruff.

Letting out a hiss as you sit up. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He growled in response. Don’t do that ever again. You almost died.

“Well, it’s your fault you didn’t recognize me. I had to show you it was me.” You tried to reason.

So it's my fault that you smell like you but don't look like you. How was I supposed to know? He argued.

You shrugged, “At least you know now.”

Yes, but you don't know how I felt all these years, not knowing if you would come back or if you were safe!

“I miss you too.” You chuckled softly.

Get on. He ordered.

You scoffed, “I can walk,” but made no move to stand.

I didn't ask. Now get on.

Raihn moved so he was laying next to you as close as he could without squishing you. All you had to do was hold onto the scruff of his neck and roll over to get on his back. You took in a deep breath and let it out once you were on his back. Cursing as he stood up, the movement jostling your sore body.

Don't be rude, he says. Looking over his shoulder at me before huffing. You're bleeding. Stop it.

It’s your turn to huff, “Don’t be rude,” you sit up a bit, wiping the blood coming from your nose. “Let’s just go back to the manor.”

****

The ride back to the Spring Court Manor was quiet but not uncomfortable. The both of you content with just being in each other’s presence.

None of the sentries stationed around the Manor said anything to you about the dry blood now stained underneath your nose. Or the massive wolf who was carrying your limp body inside. They only moved out of the way, letting you both pass.

As Raihn stalked into the alabaster manor and up the stairs to your room the servants let out shocked gasps. Some stood frozen in shock and when they didn’t move he growled, baring his teeth in warning. Swatting his foreleg lightly, “Hey, be nice.”

They're the ones that need to be nice. It's not polite to stare. He reasoned as he growled at another servant.

Once you finally got to your room he layed back down so you could get off and you slowly trudged to the ensuite bathroom. Quickly washing up and putting on a fresh night gown to sleep in. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror, already knowing your face was puffy from crying.

Walking back into the bedroom, going straight to the closet to pull out pillows and comforters. You laid them on the floor before the foot of the bed for Raihn to sleep on.

Making your way back to your bed and crawling under the covers, the wolf took that as his cue to lay down too. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. The last thing you heard was Raihn’s voice, I missed you too.

No nightmares plagued you that night as you got the best sleep you had in over 10 years.

****

You awoke a little before noon to the sound of Raihn’s growl and Lucien’s voice.

“Mother’s tits!” Lucien whisper-yelled, his hands held up like he was trying to show Raihn he meant no harm.

Raihn only lowered his head and growled even louder, baring his teeth at the red haired male. Lucien’s throating bobbing as he remained still. “Relax, fox boy.”

Lucien didn’t look at you as he asked, “Does he bite?”

“Not me.” He didn’t have to look at you to know you were smirking.

“Y/n, please!”

You huffed, “Fine. Raihn stop scaring him.”

The large wolf turned his head slowly to face you, Is he a friend?

“Uh. . . no, not really.” You replied, answering his question.

Lucien's eyes flickered between Raihn and you, “No, what?”

“He asked if you were a friend.”

“And you said no!”

You shrugged, “You never asked me.”

Raihn stalked closer and Lucien began apologizing, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Getting up from the bed to stand between them, hissing when you moved too fast. Raihn snapped his head at you, Get back in bed, he ordered.

Patting his side, “Stop fussing, I’m fine,” pushing him further back into the room to give Lucien some space. “What are you doing in here anyway, Lucien?”

“Tamlin wants to take Feyre on a ride, to show her something.”

“And,” you arched a brow at him, even though he was still looking at the wolf behind you.

He finally looked at you, his mouth opening and then closing, before opening again, “And… I want to take you.”

“All right.”

“All right?”

“Yeah, just let me change.” You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as you pushed him out the door and got ready. Raihn huffing behind you.

****

By the time Raihn and you got to the front doors, Tamlin, Lucien and Feyre were already saddled on their horses.

Again no one said anything, Tamlin and Feyre were just gaping in shock and Lucien was just staring as Raihn lowered himself so you could get on his back. Once you were seated he began walking, Lucien’s horse keeping pace beside you.

Then Tamlin came up on your other side, “Is that a wolf?”

“Are we in the Spring Court?” You asked him, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

“Yes.” He answered.

“Then yes, Tamlin. This is a wolf.” Lucien snorted beside you as you patted Raihn’s neck. Tamlin glared at him and he pretended to cough.

“Is he your pet?” Raihn’s responding growl made the High Lord stiffen.

“No,” you laughed. “No, he’s not. Raihn and I are Ceangailte."

Tamlin’s face paled as he looked at Lucien but Lucien was looking at you. Then he whispered, “You’re bonded to each other?”

“Yes, Lucien, we are.”

Raihn let out a pleased noise and you smiled softly.

“What’d he say?” Lucien asked.

“I am his and he is mine, from now until the darkness claims us.”

****

When you all finally arrived at the place Tamlin wanted to show Feyre, it was an hour or two past noon. The light still thick and golden. It was a glen, a beautiful glen.

Lucien had already sat down on the blanket they brought and Tamlin had gone to where Feyre was a couple feet ahead.

“Y/n,” he patted the space on the blanket next him, “sit.”

You looked at him and then back at the trail beyond, “Uh, I think I’m gonna go for a walk. . . Thank you though.”

“I’ll go with you.” The male was already on his feet and next to you before you could say it wasn’t necessary. “Lead the way.”

“Raihn, stay.” He huffed in annoyance at your order but stayed put.

You and Lucien walked the trail for a bit before veering off in the opposite direction of the pool of starlight. You couldn’t look at it without being homesick for a home you’d never been to. The walk was quiet, the both of you content in just listening to the birds around you singing along with the trees and the sounds of their leaves rustling. But, Lucien broke the silence.

“Are you alright after last night?”

You looked at him, brows furrowed before shaking your head no. “Are you?”

He sighed, “No.”

You knew you shouldn’t ask but curiosity killed the cat and you were the cat. “Did she—did Amaratha do that to you?” You asked softly, gesturing to his scarred eye.

He visibly tensed, jaw clenched as he gave you a tight nod.

“I’m sorry.” And you meant it too. Making a silent promise to scar her face just like she’d scarred his.

He stopped walking and you turned to look at him. Lucien searched your face for any insincerity and when he found none he merely thanked you. Then continued to walk.

You both walked until you came across a beautiful bluish green colored lake with a dock. Lucien bent down to roll up his pants and take off his boots. “What are you doing?” You asked him.

“We are going to dip our toes in the water, sweetheart,” his lips settling into a playful smirk.

Lucien sat beside you on dock, his hands splayed behind him as the both of you kicked your feet gently through the water. You were so lost in your own thoughts while staring at the rippling water that you didn’t hear him calling to you.

“Y/n!” He whisper-yelled.

“What?”

His eyes were wide and the corners of his mouth were upturned as he gestured in front of you, across the narrow lake. Where dozens upon dozens of different animals were staring at you, but standing proud, front and center was the Ruler of the Forest.

But you knew the huge white stag with great antlers as the Lord of the North.

He stretched out one of his forelegs and bent the other, before bowing his head. His dark eyes never left yours as you bowed your head to him in return. Then he and the other animals followed and it was as if they were never there.

Lucien cleared his throat, getting your attention, “Listen, I don’t know who or what you are but. . . I know you’re different.” If he saw you tense he didn’t mention it. “You don’t have to tell me. Yet, because you’re different I’m gonna tell you something.” You finally looked at him and nodded for him to continue.

He let out a deep sigh before he began to speak again, “I’ve endured things that make times like last night. . . difficult. Not just the scar and the eye—though last night brought back memories of that, too.” You turned so you could face him better and he met your gaze. “I am the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court." You straightened. "The youngest of seven brothers. The Autumn Court is. . . cutthroat. Beautiful, but my brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title, not the eldest. It is the same throughout Prythian, at every court.”

Which was the reason your mother used a blood spell on you because you were already showing the physical markers of a High Lord's heir. And you were female so that made it even more rare.

“I never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so I spent my youth doing everything a High Lord's son probably shouldn't: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords and being with females who were a far cry from the nobility of the Autumn Court." He paused for a moment, and you could almost feel the sorrow before he said, "I fell in love with a faerie whom my father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline. I told him I didn't care that she wasn't one of the High Fae, that I was certain the mating bond would snap into place soon and that I was going to marry her and leave his court to my scheming brothers." He paused again. His jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to will away the tears pooling in his eyes, to no avail. "My father had her put down. Executed, in front of me, as two of my eldest brothers held me and made me watch."

Your own eyes had started to fill with tears and Lucien gave you a sad smile when the first one fell down your cheek.

“So. . . I left. Cursed my father, abandoned my title and the Autumn Court, and walked out. And without my title protecting me, my brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them came out to kill me; one came back."

"You. . . killed them?"

"I killed one," He said. "Tamlin killed the other, as they had crossed into his territory, he was High Lord and could do what he wanted with trespassers threatening the peace of his lands." A cold, brutal, honest statement. "He claimed me as his own—named me emissary, since I'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people, while he. . . can find it difficult. I’ve been here ever since."

"As emissary," you began, "have you ever had dealings with your father? Or your brothers?"

"Yes. My father has never apologized, and my brothers are too frightened of Tamlin to risk harming me. But I have never forgotten what they did to her, or what my brothers tried to do to me."

It didn't quite excuse everything Lucien had said and done to you and Feyre, but. . . you understood now. You could understand the walls and barriers he had no doubt constructed around himself. Your chest was too tight, to say anything to him. You knew it wouldn’t comfort him, so you did the only thing you could think of and hugged him. A couple seconds went by and you realized he might not hug you back but when you made to pull away, he gripped your tunic so tightly before he began sobbing into you.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that. You weren’t going to pull away until he did, he needed this. Needed to go through every emotion he’s kept bottled up. And you just rubbed his back and smoothed his long red hair back as he did.

The sun was near setting when Lucien finally pulled away from you and wiped his tear stained cheeks with the sleeve of his tunic. He gave you a sad smile, voice still tight from crying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your voice a gentle murmur.

“Gods, I haven’t cried like that in ages.” He said, letting out a chuckle.

“You have too every now and again, it’s good for the soul.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Raihn’s deep, gruff voice sounded in your head, Come back, we're leaving.

All right.

You stood up, putting your boots back on, “Let’s go, Raihn said we’re heading back.”

“All right.” Lucien sniffled before getting to his feet and putting his own boots back on.

****

Feyre seemed tired but surprisingly content from the few hours of swimming and eating and lounging in the glen, she eyed Lucien as you all rode back to the manor that afternoon. You were crossing a broad meadow of new spring grass when he caught her glancing at him for the tenth time, and you braced yourself as he fell back from Tamlin’s side.

The metal eye narrowed on her while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

That was enough to persuade you not to say anything about his past. You would hate pity, too. And he didn’t know you—not well enough to warrant anything but resentment if you brought it up, even if it weighed on you to know it, to grieve for him.

She waited until Tamlin was far enough ahead that even his High Fae hearing might not pick up on her words but you did. “I never got to thank you for your advice with the Suriel.”

Lucien tensed. “Oh?”

You looked at Tamlin beside you, the horse utterly unbothered by his mighty rider. “If you still want me dead,” she said, “you might have to try a bit harder.”

Lucien loosed a breath. “That’s not what I intended, I wouldn’t shed any tears,” he amended. I knew it was true and she probably did too. “But what happened to you—”

“I was joking,” Feyre chuckled.

“You can’t possibly forgive me that easily for sending you into danger.”

“No. And part of me would like nothing more than to wallop you for your lack of warning about the Suriel. But I understand: I’m a human who killed your friend, who now lives in your house, and you have to deal with me. I understand,” She repeated.

He was quiet for long enough that you thought he wouldn’t reply. Just as you were about to drop back, he spoke. “Tam told me that your first shot was to save the Suriel’s life. Not your own.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.” You heard him reach for something at his side and tossed it to her. She had to fight to stay in the saddle as she fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife.

“I heard you scream, and I hesitated. Not long, but I hesitated before I came running. Even though Tam got there in time, I still broke my word in those seconds I waited.” He jerked his chin at the knife. “It’s yours. Don’t bury it in my back, please.”

You turned this time to look at him and he gave you a genuine smile and a nod of his head.

Your gaze flickered between the both of them, Feyre now inspecting the knife and him giving you a friendly smile—a silent question. So you smiled back and nodded your head in return, friends then.

****

You gave Raihn a reassuring smile, “I’ll be careful, I promise,” while you finished securing your ash daggers to your body.

I’ll go with you.

“No.”

You’ll be safer with me by your side, he argued.

You sighed, “I’m not saying you’re wrong but, I can’t exactly sneak out with a huge wolf next to me, can I?” His annoyed huff was answer enough as he laid down on the comforters and pillows you had set on the floor for him. Petting the soft fur atop his head, “Sleep, I’ll be back before you know it.”

You know I won’t sleep until you come back.

****

You made your way through the quiet empty halls of the manor, down the staircase and to the door leading towards the garden doors. The sentries were changing shifts and you knew Lucien was on patrol tonight so you took the opportunity, running towards the north-eastern part of the woods. The new cloak you promised the Suriel in hand as you made your way to meet them near the yew tree.

Their fingers clicked twice, “You came,” as they spoke .

“When have I not?” you asked, while offering them the cloak. Looking around as the leaves on the surrounding trees and bushes rustled. Ears straining to hear if something—someone was there.

The Suriel grabbed the cloak and cradled it to their chest, “Thank you, princess—“

“You don’t have to thank me and I’m not a princess. Not anymore.”

They bent down on a knee, “For the kindness you have always shown me,” bowing his head, “you will always be a princess to me.”

Placing a hand on their bony shoulder, “Thank you, old friend.” You heard leaves rustling again, nostrils flaring scenting the air, “Go, someone’s here.”

“Be safe. I do not know when I will see you again but, I have to tell you. You have to know.”

“Know what?” Your brows furrowed as you glanced around trying to see if someone was hiding the shadow covered trees.

“Your mate,” Those two words made you snap your gaze back to the Suriel. “Like you, has fire in their blood. You will find each other on Calanmai. You have always been meant to burn together.”

You felt paralyzed, “What,” you felt your heart pounding. “Who. . . I have a mate?” you said those last four words so quietly you didn’t think the Suriel heard you until they spoke again.

They chuckled, “Yes, darkling, you have a mate. The both of you bound in flames. Bound to each other. He is heir to Autumn and you are heir to Spring. Be safe, Princess, you are of age now and will be affected by Fire Night’s magic.” The Suriel bowed again, “Till we meet again, Princess,” and walked into the dark woods.

You don’t know how long you stood there in shock that you had a mate and in fear that Amarantha would find out and kill him.

You stuck to the shadows as always, making your way back to the manor, mind reeling with possibilities from the information the Suriel gave you before they left. Practically in a trance when Lucien stopped you, still sitting atop his beautiful mare, “Why are you out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. So I came out for a walk.”

He smirked knowingly, “Want to try that again, Princess?”

“Is there a curfew I don’t know about? Am I not allowed to come and go when I want.” Fuck. He heard the Suriel address you as Princess. He was who you heard and scented. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Did he know his brother is your mate? Is he your mate? Fuck.

Lucien chuckled as he swung a powerful leg over his horse, dismounting the beautiful mare and stalking towards you, leaning down so you were face to face, “Who—what are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, keeping your face an unreadable mask.

He let out a laugh, which sounded more bitter than amused, “So I open up to you, essentially baring my heart and soul to you and you won’t even tell me your real name!”

You didn’t try to cover the hurt that flashed across your face, as you yelled, “I did tell you my name! Y/n is my name, I haven’t lied about that!”

“But you are lying!”

“No! I just. . . I just haven’t told you everything.”

“Why?” His narrowed eyes—one russet and one metal—searched your face.

Before you could give him an answer, Raihn’s powerful body was in between you as he gave Lucien a warning. A low growl to back off.

Lucien immediately stepped back, with his hands up showing Raihn he was unarmed. Your wolf growled once more, his lip curled back in a snarl. Did he harm you?

“No,” you mumbled.

No, what ? Raihn asked tightly.

“No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Tell him if he does, I will take his remaining eye and eviscerate him where he stands.

You furrowed your brows and couldn’t stop the burst of laughter from leaving your lips as you howled in laughter, “That’s a little dramatic but, no. I’m not telling him that.”

Tell him or I will take his remaining eye.

Your mouth opened but Lucien’s voice cut you off, “Tell me what?”

You looked at Lucien, then at Raihn, “I’m not telling him.”

Tell. Him. Now. The massive wolf order.

“Fine,” you huffed, rolling your eyes, “Raihn said that if you hurt me he will take your remaining eye and eviscerate you where you stand.” Turning to look at Raihn again, even though he was still focused on Lucien, “Happy?”

Not even close.

Lucien’s face turned a sickly pale, no doubt imagining the painful painting Raihn, painted for him. Without another word he turned and mounted his horse. Before he could set her into a walk you a poke, “I wish I could tell you but I can’t. I just can’t, I’m sorry.”

He only nodded his head once and then left.

****

Weeks passed, the days melting together.

The first couple weeks everyone was afraid of Raihn, especially Alis, since she’d just come into your room and he snapped at her. At least he’d been sorry but since then she was wary of him. Feyre got used to him—sort of, Tamlin and Lucien did too. The other servants just tried to avoid him.

Lucien never talked about the night you had argued and Tamlin never said anything about it either. So he must not have told him that he found you outside the manor in the middle of the night. Instead Lucien just pretended it had never happened, which somehow bothered you more.

Feyre and Tamlin had grown closer over time. Well that’s what she told you at least; gentle, soft kisses, and longing touches. He’d even gifted her art supplies and given her a space to paint. The smile she’d given you when she told you was pure happiness and you wanted her to stay like that—happy. All she wanted before was time and tools to paint and now she had them so, paint she did. She never wanted anyone to see them but she would let you and ask for your opinion on certain colors. Sometimes she dared to paint the High Lord, who rode at her side when they wandered his grounds on lazy days—the High Lord, whom she was happy to talk to or spend hours in comfortable silence with. While you spent your days with Lucien or the other sentries; patrolling and training.

Just like today, Lucien and you were getting ready to change shifts and were heading back towards the manor. You cleared the little wood, a spread of hills and knolls laid out ahead. In the distance, there were masked faeries atop many of them, building what seemed to be unlit fires. You halted, they were setting up for Fire Night.

He halted beside you, “They’re setting up bonfires—for Calanmai—Fire Night. It’s in two days,” he explained.

Fire Night. Your brows furrowed and you shook your head.

“It’s just a spring ceremony. We light bonfires, and the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands, “I know what it is.”

He rubbed his neck, “Oh. . . It’s just the way you said it, I thought you didn’t know what it was.”

“No, I just didn’t know it was in two days.” You shook your head again and gave Raihn the silent command to start walking again. Lucien did the same with his horse.

“You might see more faeries around than usual—faeries from this court, and from other territories, who are free to wander across the borders that night.”

You nodded your head before letting out a sharp breath, “I thought Amarantha had scared most of them away or trapped them Under the Mountain,” Glancing back at the unlit bonfires hoping that they wouldn’t be there. That maybe you were seeing things but they were still there.

“She has—but there will be a number of them. Just. . . stay away from them all. You’ll be safe in the house, but if you run into one before we light the fires at sundown in two days, ignore them.”

“I'm not staying in the house.”

It was his turn to halt this time, “Yes. You are.”

“No. I’m not.” You didn’t give him the chance to argue before telling Raihn mind to mind to get you into the house. Then to go wait in your room while you hid behind a massive pot in the garden.

You saw the moment Tamlin went rigid—it was quiet with that horrible stillness that usually meant one of Amarantha’s ilk was around. Tamlin bared his teeth at. . . Feyre. Fuck. “Stay hidden, and no matter what you overhear, don’t come out,” He ordered her.

Then he was gone.

She looked to either side of the gravel path, like some gawking idiot. You hoped she wouldn’t move because if she did she would fuck everything up. She had just ducked behind a hedge when you heard Tamlin and Lucien approaching. You silently swore and froze. Then Tamlin’s snarl rippled through the air on the other side of the hedge she was hiding behind.

“I know what day it is,” Tamlin said—but not to Lucien. To the Attor. Him and his brothers still plagued your dreams.

“Your continued behavior is garnering a lot of interest at court,” the Attor said, deep and sibilant. You shivered, despite the warmth of the day. “She has begun wondering—wondering why you haven’t given up yet. And why four Naga wound up dead not too long ago.”

“Tamlin’s not like the other fools,” Lucien snapped, his shoulders pushed back to raise himself to his full height, more warrior-like than you’d yet seen him.“If she expected bowed heads, then she’s more of an idiot than I thought.”

The Attor hissed, and your blood went cold at the noise. “Speak you so ill of she who holds your fate in her hands? With one word, she could destroy this pathetic estate. She wasn’t pleased when she heard of you dispatching your warriors.” The Attor now seemed turned toward Tamlin. “But, as nothing has come of it, she has chosen to ignore it.”

There was a deep-throated growl from the High Lord, but his words were calm as he said, “Tell her I’m getting sick of cleaning up the trash she dumps on my borders.”

The Attor chuckled, the sound like sand shifting. “She sets them loose as gifts—for you—and reminders of what will happen if she catches you trying to break the terms of—”

“He’s not,” Lucien snarled. “Now, get out. We have enough of your ilk swarming on the borders we don’t need you defiling our home, too. For that matter, stay the hell out of the cave. It’s not some common road for filth like you to travel through as they please.”

Tamlin loosed a growl of agreement.

The Attor laughed again, such a horrible, vicious sound. “Though you have a heart of stone, Tamlin,” it said, and Tamlin went rigid, “you certainly keep a host of fear inside it.” The Attor’s voice sank into a croon. “Don’t worry, High Lord.” It spat the title like a joke. “All will be right as rain soon enough.”

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin, and he laughed again before a flap of leathery wings boomed, a foul wind bit your face, and everything went silent.

They breathed deeply after another moment. You closed your eyes, needing a steadying breath as well but Feyre yelped. You stood without hesitating, ash daggers in hand.

“It’s gone,” Tamlin said, releasing her. It was all you could do not to sag against the hedges.

“What did you hear?” Lucien demanded—from the both of us, coming around the corner and crossing his arms. Shifting your gaze to Tamlin’s face, but found it to be so white with anger—anger at that thing—that you had to look again at Lucien.

“Nothing—I. . . well, nothing I understood,” Feyre said, and meant it.

You looked back at Tamlin as you said one word, “Everything.”

“If the Attor saw them—” Lucien said, glancing around.

“It didn’t,” Tamlin said.

“Are you certain it—”

“It didn’t,” Tamlin growled over his shoulder, then looked at Feyre and you, his face still pale with fury, lips tight. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Understanding a dismissal, and craving the locked door of your bedroom, you trudged back to the house, contemplating telling Feyre who Amarantha was and why she was able to make Tamlin and Lucien so nervous and to command that thing as her messenger. But you couldn’t and you hated yourself for it.

****

After a tense dinner during which Tamlin hardly spoke to Lucien, Feyre or you, you walked out onto the balcony that was attached to your room and climbed onto the roof. And slept under the stars that night.

You went outside the following day but didn’t venture into the woods. Raihn and you were merely sprawled underneath an Oak Tree that was near the house’s private garden. Alis brought breakfast and lunch out to you knowing you wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. Too lost in the thought of tomorrow being Fire Night, the thought of meeting your mate and what would or could happen.

She had tried asking me what was wrong but you couldn’t tell her. How could you when your mates life was at risk just because he was mated to you. You knew Alis wouldn’t tell anyone if you asked her not too yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The instinct to protect your mate at all costs was overriding everything.

****

The day of Fire Night—Calanmai dawned, and you didn’t see Tamlin or Lucien all day. As the afternoon shifted into dusk, you found yourself sliding your blue cloak so dark it was nearly black over your shoulders as you headed towards the doors of your balcony, Raihn following close behind, “Stay here. No one can see you.”

He growled.

You sighed, making your way towards him.

Once you were face to face with him, you cradled his head in your hands, pressing your forehead to his, “Please. You have to stay here. They’re not only hunting me and. . . and if something were to happen to you. I—I wouldn’t survive it. And it wouldn’t be because of the bond. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”

And if you get hurt. . . He let out a distressed whine at the thought.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

You heard him inhale, scenting you as if you wouldn’t be coming back. Without another word you walked out onto the balcony, giving Raihh a smile reserved only for him, then jumped off.

The sound of drums issued.

The drumbeats came from far away—beyond the garden, past the game park, into the forest that lay beyond. They were deep, probing. A single beat, echoed by two responding calls. Summoning.

You stood, staring out over the property as the sky became awash in hues of orange and red. Noting that your senses already felt. . . different.

In the distance, upon the sloping hills that led into the woods, a few fires flickered, plumes of dark smoke marring the ruby sky—the unlit bonfires you’d spotted two days ago. you needed to find your mate, you reminded yourself.

The drums turned faster—louder. Though you’d grown accustomed to the smell of magic after not being around it since you were a child, your nose prickled with the rising tang of metal, stronger than you’d yet sensed it. You took a step forward, behind you, your long shadow seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums.

Even the garden, usually buzzing with the orchestra of its denizens, had quieted to hear the drums. There was a string—a string tied to your gut that pulled you toward those hills, commanding you to go, to hear—to feel the drums. . .

Smoke and magic hung thick in the air. There were hundreds of High Fae milling about, you could identify which court they came from but some you couldn’t.

You stuck to the shadows as best you could as you made your way through the crowd, your human features caused by the blood spell your mother put on you, hidden in the shadows of your hood. You prayed that the smoke and countless scents of various High Fae and faeries were enough to cover your human smell, but you checked to ensure that your ash daggers were still at your sides anyway as you moved deeper into the celebration.

Though a cluster of drummers played on one side of the fire, the faeries flocked to a trench between two nearby hills. You followed them, savoring the pulsing beat of the drums as it resonated through the earth and into the soles of your feet. No one looked twice in your direction.

You almost slid down the steep bank as you entered the hollow. At one end, a cave mouth opened into a soft hillside. Its exterior had been adorned with flowers and branches and leaves, and you could make out the beginnings of a pelt-covered floor just past the cave mouth. What lay inside was hidden from view as the chamber veered away from the entrance, but firelight danced upon the walls.

Whatever was occurring inside the cave—or whatever was about to happen—was the focus of the shadowy faeries as they lined either side of a long path leading to it. The path wended between the trenches among the hills, and the High Fae swayed in place, moving to the rhythm of the drumming, whose beats sounded in your stomach.

You watched them sway, then shifted on then shifted on your feet. The string— the string you felt tugged once. Twice. You scanned the fire lit area, trying to peer through the veil of night and smoke. You know he’s here. Your mate. But you hadn’t found him. . . Not yet.

None of the masked faeries paid you any heed. They remained along the path, more and more of them coming each minute. The Great Rite was going to begin soon then.

You made your way back up the hillside and stood along the edge of a bonfire near the trees, watching the faeries. You were about to make your way towards the shadow covered woods, your senses were beginning to feel more fae—more animalistic than fae, when someone grasped your arm and whirled you around.

Lucien.

He snarled in your face, “What are you doing out here? Twisting out of his hold, he huffed, “I told you to stay in the house.”

“And I told you no.”

He sighed deeply, “Y/n, you can’t just do whatever—" he turned to look at what you were staring at and when he didn’t see it, he looked back at you. “—What the fuck are you looking at?”

Grabbing his face, turning his head, “Feyre.” There she was, your sister with a high fae whose black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers. He had blue eyes that were so deep they were violet. You’d know those eyes anywhere. He was the High Lord of Night.

Rhysand.

Lucien cursed violently, then went to Feyre. You were stuck in your spot looking where Rhysand once stood. He was alive. . . He was here. You had to find him. You needed to talk to him.

You scanned the crowd frantically trying to find him, the darkness beyond the crowd beckoned you, called to you and you felt eyes watching you. But, everytime you tried to follow it, the string that had been tugging all night pulled you away, farther and farther.

Without realizing it you’d rejoined the crowd and Lucien appeared next to you. The drum beats picked up, making the flames of the bonfires flicker with each pulse. He was standing so close to you, you could feel the radiating heat of his body and scent his arousal but, not just his, the other faeries too.

His eyes settled on your lips and tracked the way your tongue swept over them as you licked them. He took a step forward, reaching to cup your face when suddenly a tall high fae male had a dagger pressed against your tanned throat.

“Thank you for finding her for me, brother.” The male with the same red hair as Lucien said, but instead of russet eyes his were amber.

Standing before you was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen and the string in your chest seemed to glow and warm in response to his presence.

Brother. His brother. Your mate, he found you.

Lucien snarled at him, “Eris, if you hurt her—“ The tip of his dagger pushing into the soft pale skin of his brother’s throat.

“He won’t,” you cut him off. “He won’t hurt me. Will you, Eris?”

His lips were set in a feral grin that would make anyone else run but, you weren’t just anyone. “Never, little flame,” he promised.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

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*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames #eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x y/n

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artists-who-rarely-draws · 4 months

Text

Hunt down the good in me.

Garroth version.

This was a request from amaizing fan fic writer @starhvney where the reader is injured taking a blow for Laurance.

G/n Reader

Warning: Gore, nothing too crazy but the reader is injured, and I tell you about it, as well as gore being mentioned with the people who ambushed you. Shadow knight Laurance goes on a rampage, hurt comfort both in the literal and metaphorical sense lmfao.

Tysm for the requests! I am always open for more as long as my inbox is open!

Please enjoy!

You really should have expected it you suppose. The bandits had gotten used to easy life outside the remains of Pheonix Drop, raiding supply carts and merchants on their way to or from the small settlement. Obviously they weren't going to leak new arrivals with much bigger equipment than the rest of the inhabitants arriving out of nowhere, much LESS better equipped people fixing the village walls and gates. You suppose you expected them to be more... subtle... cowardly? In their approach to it. Oh how wrong you were.

Thank Irene Laurance carried his greatsword at all times because the closest thing to a weapon *you* currently had was a pick axe to work on the stone parts of the wall, sure sure it would suck ALOT to catch a pickaxe to the... well, anywhere, but it's nothing compared to an actual intended weapon. Laurance took the lead, telling you to stand back the moment the first bandit stepped out of the trees. And you QUICKLY realized just why Laurance was on the potential Jury of Nine list. But at some point, no matter the skill level, numbers can override it.

About 34 bandits had come out of the forest, a handful of the smart ones fled when they saw Laurances sheer skill with a greatsword. You were no expert but you knew that the great sword was one of the more difficult weapons to wield, it's huge size made it's attacks devastating but it required alot of effort to use it, once you were committed to a swing you were just that, committed using this sword was something you had to put the whole momentum of your body into. Apparently, a bandit had figured that out to, as time seems too slow, you watch a masked bandit dual wielding daggers preparing to strike just as Laurance is trapped in a strike against 3 bandits. You can't let this happen! If Laurance gets heavily injured, then it would be pitifully easy for them to take you out being unarmed and then break in and do who knows what to the village! Well... at least that's what you're going to say when Laurance inevitably chews you out for surging forward. Truth being that that you just... didn't want to see your love get hurt no matter the extent.

You throw yourself between Laurance and the bandits blade, adrenaline running through your system before swinging the pick axe with all your might at the bandits head, having to tense your whole body to keep from a full body recoil at the feelings running through you of it tearing through skin and cracking bone the bandit letting out a gurgling cut off shout.

You honestly don't even feel the dagger enter and lodge into your side, turning your head to the side quickly to find Laurance already staring over his shoulder to you, breath held and eyes wide. You couldn't tell, trapped looking into his eyes as shock turned to a lightless rage, but everyone else had stopped fighting as the forest went *silent* no rustling of leaves or chirping of birds, the only sound now to be heard was a reverberating growl from Laurance. Smoke billowing out of the sides of his mouth as his form starts growing much larger.

His scream tears through the forest as he grows he reaches forward, grabbing the nearest bandit by the head and slaming them on the ground with a sickening crack. Fully Shadow knight as he springs forward blood red sword viciously and furiously putting an end to the bandits. You can hardly take it all in, not only with the speed and complexity of his movements, but the smell of sulfur and second dose of adrenaline that rushed through you when he turned, the responce of a injured prey animal desperately trying to run *just a little more* left you lightheaded. But you ignore it, not only because it would only agitate him further, but also.... it was Laurance, the sweet, kind, and thoughtful man you fell in love with, and you weren't going to let your body convince you he was a threat.

Some bandits had tried to run... they didn't get far. Laurance didn't spare even a single one, the forest around you stained red as far as the eye could see, covered in mangled corpses. Laurance stands over what was once... a bandit. Body eerily still as smoke whisps off of his armor. You want to give him a moment to cool down, literally and metaphorically. But the adrenaline has completely left you, and you are more and more aware of the searing pain in your side. No one tells you how much being stabbed feels like fire.

"L-laurance?" Is all you can hoarsely mutter, blood dribbling from your lips before falling to your knees. The shadow knight wips around red eyes wide "Y/N!" He shouts as if snapped out of a trance he runs sliding to his knees to your side.

"I-its okay, you ok-kay don't talk don't talk, I'm here I have you" he rambles quickly, voice trembling as he babbles out reassurances that seem more for himself than you, as he harshly tears at his cape, pain scorching up your side as he ties it to the dagger securing it to your side. You don't know what comes after this.... but you know that just in case you want...

"Love.. you.." You mummer voice hardly a whisper causing him to jump eyes back to that Marble blue, tears falling down his cheeks quickly.

"I Love you, I love you so fucking much, you have to be fine, your fine. We will say it again tomorrow, okay??" He stammers out, starting to pick you up... but your world goes black.

Everything after is a strange.. choppy blur. Laurance held you close to his chest as he ran to Donna's home. Laurance would shout and fight anytime someone tried to convince him to leave your side. And then... you fully fell unconscious.

There's a dull throbbing throughout your entire body, and you're thirsty. You can barely let out a little groan with how dry your throat is. You scrunch up your face and move to tighten your hands into fists before you prop yourself up, but you end up squeezing the hand in yours.

"Y/N!" Laurance shoots up, holding your hand tightly with both of his. You open your eyes to be met with Laurances wide baby blues, tears fulling his eyes as he quickly leans down to give you a heart achingly tender kiss. Cupping your cheek with one hand, you raise one of your own to do the same, ignoring your protesting muscles.

"Thank Irene" he whispers forehead pressed against your own, his tears fall onto your own cheeks, before you work to brush them away.

He will demand to know what you were thinking later... right now he just wants to bask in *you*.

#mcd #aphmau mcd #aphverse #aphblr #minecraft diaries #laurance x reader #x reader #mcd x reader #laurence mcd #mcd laurence #mcd laurance #minecraft diaries laurance #minecraft diaries aphmau #minecraft diaries x reader

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chaotikanvas · 10 months

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AAAAAAAAA AFTER MONTHS THIS IS FINALLY DONE!!!!! Not gonna ramble too much and get right to it! This was inspired by Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse (wonderful original detective au by @/sunnys-aesthetic!), because I am very much not normal about this man! gonna have to be divided in two parts because of the image limit gfklhdsñjkh

Here is part one, plus a bit of an introduction! (edit: added the alt text!)

I hope you enjoy!! <3

(content warnings: uuuh nothing too out there that wouldn't be in the main fic. Mentions of blood and violence, and uuuh unsafe self-modification practices? That's the best way I can think to explain it gkjdhgsfkj, and that's all I think!)

------

The first spark feels familiar.

A sensation he last felt so long ago now.

(Not long enough. Never long enough)

It invades his systems in an instant, and yet it has always felt like an eternity. Joints locking up. Optics glitching out. Senses daring to escape his iron grip.

A spark is all he gets to hear before an array of errors and alarms and pain flood his mind.

(Pain always ovetakes it all in the end)

A spark is all it takes to start a fire.

A spark is what started the fire.

The burning within him. Overheating metal and wires and oil.

The internal inferno that took root in his head, as part of his very existence, consuming him alive.

Just a spark.

Enough to ignite the flames that he has been gradually (painstakingly, arduously, hopefully) smothering for some time now right back to being a raging hell that threatens to engulf him until there is nothing left.

Rage.

Rage is all he knows. What pushes him through the spasms.

Rage has him making sense of the glitches in his vision and set a target.

He is not the same as back then.

The target aims at him again. Presses down on the trigger.

His head twitches out of his control. He takes another step towards the target.

The target's smile falters and presses again. Again. Again.

Everything.

Turns.

Red.

-------

It's not uncommon for Eclipse to simply go off the radar and not reappear for a while. This you have learned from your dear detectives.

This time though? Your gut is yelling that there is something off.

For one, the day before he made his disappearance act, he had gone on one of his hunts. It was late at night, so it would be expected that he would arrive at the station to collect his pay the next day.

He did not.

For two...

The scene he left behind was a bloodbath.

A part of you wants to insist you are not surprised at all, aprehension about the tendencies of the violent animatronic, plus some lingering distrust, bubbling instinctually to the surface.

The rational part of you, that had seen and now accepted his genuine efforts to tear off the venom that he's been living off until recently from his system, tells you that there is a puzzle piece missing and you need to go and find it.

Detective Sun and detective Moon seem to agree with you. By the way detective Sun keeps glancing at the phone with increased frequency. By the way detective Moon arrives much later the night following the incident.

By the third morning, you decide enough is enough.

You know through the detectives that the only human survivor from the encounter was a recently joined member of the gang Eclipse stormed for his hunt. The kid was taken in and interrogated, but in his shaken state the only information they could get from him was that he was actually far from where the fight broke out, having heard a distant buzzing sound just before. Unlucky guy then stumbled on... well, Eclipse's handiwork.

(Or perhaps he was lucky. He was arrested, not taken to the morgue.)

The scene is very much still up to the brim with cops, not that you think you would get much from it if the detectives didn't share much else about the whole situation.

So that leaves you to hunt down the trail of the bounty hunter.

Under the harsh midday sunlight, after hours running around, you curse the sneaky bastard's ability to somehow go unnoticed if he so wishes while being as massive as he is.

Yet you catch wind of one or two people getting a glimpse of the robot, and that's enough to finally direct you to a general area where he might be. You suspect that you don't yet know all the locations of his safehouses, but at this section of the city at least, you are pretty certain there are no other places that could serve him well than those you have pinpointed.

Reaching the entrance of the most secluded one, you reach for your hair, and pull a pin secured by the ribbon that ties it up.

....

here's the link for part 2!

#kanvas writes #arts #bloodstained fool #dca fandom #god I can't believe I'm finally posting this kjghfsdj #fun fact #this is now by far the longest time on a piece of art I've ever worked on #sorry if I forget a tag or something I always forget them when I first post gkjfhgsdkjh

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drconstellation · 9 months

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First-Order Archangels

Part 1: Maybe You'll Spot An Archangel

GABRIEL: I told you you could ask. However, I am the only First-Order archangel in the room, or, you know, the Universe, so I'm not gonna answer so much. But you feel free to knock yourself out with all the asking.

While I was writing my meta series The Passion Of Jimbriel it became fairly obvious to me there was something more going on between Crowley and Gabriel in S2 than just the numerous pointers to Crowley's pre-fall angel status. They are acting as both parallels and foils to each other, and in places you can swap their characters and get the same story at a different time – and that just opens up a whole new window of context and insight into things. For pre-reading, see this meta from @vidavalor that nicely lists some obvious parallels. It doesn’t mention everything though, so I’m going to discuss parts in more detail.

A foil is a character who contrasts with the protagonist, to highlight or differentiate certain qualities between the characters. Crowley and Gabriel do this because they have come from essentially the same place, and share some story elements, but they still end up in different places.

There is a lengthy original discussion about Crowley's pre-fall angel status here, for pre-reading. It points out the obvious and some not so obvious points that ops have noticed in S2 telling us about Crowley's pre-fall status. Rather than just go through them all again, I'd like to look at some other scenes in S2 that also tell us something about both the similarities and the differences between these two high-powered entities as I go along. In addition, I’ve done a series of posts looking at Gabriel as a shoulder angel (links at the end of post,) because quite often he’s on the demonic left-hand side – which makes sense when you realize he’s a Crowley parallel.

Take the arrival of Gabriel to Whickber St and the bookshop. I’ve already mentioned this parallel story line a couple of times now, but lets look at it again in more detail. It mirrors the opening of S1E1 where the serpent climbs the wall of the Garden of Eden, morphs into a demon and starts to converse with the angel standing on the wall.

Back in the present day, we have a Gabriel, who also tends to present on the sinister-side, walking up to the gate of the present day Garden (the bookshop), which is still guarded by the same angel as it was 6000 years ago, and basically tells Aziraphale he has “fallen.”

How to we know this? It is a reference to the Fall of Man, when Adam and Eve ate the apple the serpent offered them, they suddenly became aware of their nakedness, and hid from God. Gabriel has already upset the love-apple tomato cart on his way to the door of the bookshop, its a sign of the chaos to come.

The fallen angel is not sure of his name, so he prompts with a question…

And asks for shelter under the (reluctant) angel’s wing..

But there is one thing he does know, the one thing that drew him to Aziraphale in the first place:

AZIRAPHALE: Then why did you come to my shop? GABRIEL: I don't know. I just thought I should. You know what it's like when you- when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Later, Aziraphale realizes that he must give Gabriel a new name to hide him – because fallen angels take on a new name, don’t they? Just like Crowley did.

Then we get a confession:

Which is what Crowley loves about Aziraphale as well - that bit of unpredictability, because you know how humour kind of works? It throws the unexpected at you.

Early on in S2 we find out they are both in trouble: first His Royal Smugness, then Our Hero himself. Our view is turned upside down, with the angel made the bad guy and the demon the good guy who needs to win. But both of them are being hunted by Shax.

Then we get one of the early clues pointing to Crowley's high status as an angel:

SHAX: A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed. CROWLEY: Mm? SHAX: Somewhere very close to your friend's bookshop. Are you telling me you don't know what caused it? CROWLEY: How'd you know I didn't do it?

Shax stalks and threatens both of them, sometimes at the same time:

Another parallel Gabriel and Crowley shared in S2 were associating their identity - no, lets rephrase that - "essence" was one description I've seen - with boxes.

Gabriel arrives with a box that strategically covers his front, and quickly tosses it aside once Aziraphale opens the door to the bookshop. It lies forgotten until Gabriel mentions it a while later. Inside it is the fly from Beelzebub - an object from Hell - so it really needs to be 'invited' across the threshold of the bookshop by Aziraphale to be able to enter. The box initially appears to be empty, Once inside, the fly is free to roam. It has a message written on one side of it.

The same goes for the matchbox. Message included.

ah, wot? you say. Yep.

The matchbox represents Crowley, probably in more ways than one, but I'll just go through the stuff relevant to this meta here.

I notice I'm not the only op to connect the line from the Book of Job on the side of the matchbox with Crowley. The line is from Verse 41, which talks about Leviathan. Among the various shapes it is described to take is a great sea serpent. This deserves its own meta for further discussion, which I plan to do after this one, because yes, Crowley is Leviathan in disguise, but there is much more to it than that. But for now, just know that the matchbox is Crowley.

Once you know this, it makes sense that Muriel finds it - a discarded cardboard box by the front door to Heaven - and deals with a material object that shouldn't by rights exist in Heaven. Then a certain demon finds Muriel lurking outside during the siege on the bookshop at the end of S2E5, and talks them into letting the certain demon be escorted up into Heaven where he doesn't belong, where he's free to roam around - only he needs a guide because he's not sure where to go. Ah Muriel, you poke the Serpent, he's going to poke you back. Good thing he likes you, and it just was a gentle nudge.

Two empty boxes, two cases of memory-loss. That is what S2 seems to suggest to us at first glance.

Gabriel's seems to be the most straight forward in hindsight - find the fly and restore Gabriel to his original "Gabriel-ness." But its more complicated than that. When pushed to remember, his lilac eyes return and another voice can be heard speaking through him of the past. This happens twice, with the second one being part-prophecy. What is really triggering these episodes of channeling? Is it God or someone else speaking through him? We really aren't sure at this point in time.

Then there are questions around Crowley's memory. Did he have his memory wiped when he fell? Was it wiped repeatedly? Was it not wiped at all, and he just pretends he doesn't remember? Neil has even said he is an unreliable narrator about his own Fall, so who are we to trust at this point? Crowley does seem to understand in the end some of the problems Gabriel is having with his absent memories and that brings them to a temporary truce.

Both Aziraphale and Michael inspect their respective "empty" boxes, and neither notices anything obviously amiss. Gabriel's box just seems empty to Aziraphale, he takes no notice of the fly container in there, and archangel Michael tentatively inspects the matchbox brought to them by Muriel but nothing seems out of place there either.

Crowley's change in costume in Heaven during his little infiltration caper with Muriel is also another clue to his past status as an archangel. He has a silvery-gray suit, similar in style to Saraqael's to reinforce the link with them, but at the same time he is also mocking the other archangels and their elite status. We've assumed for a while now that the appearance of the tactical turtleneck signals that Crowley is up to something sneaky or spy related, but I'm starting to think it also relates to a bit of a power play (and Crowley certainly laid the power on for Mr Brown in the pub!) Looking back at S1, Gabriel's not adverse to wearing one either when he needs to be at his worst (or best. Your choice.)

The way one dresses is a way of expressing and reinforcing authority, and its something both Gabriel and Crowley do without much thought. They have been used to being in a position of power and/or independent authority for much of their existence, and I would say that even if Crowley is a few steps down now from where he started, and he's more cautious around those higher ranking than him than he used to be, he still retains that knowledge of what its like to be at the top.

Crowley's usual near all-black costume is a form of power dressing in itself. Whether is was in the past, when black was an expensive color to buy and maintain in clothing, or in the present day, we are still respectful of those in a stylish cut of black.

Gabriel's impeccable tailoring as Supreme Archangel also commands respect. So it's no wonder that one of Gabriel's first requests on regaining his memories was to ask for new clothes! He wasn't just being the vain archangel we believe him to be (although, I think there is still some of that) you also need to consider the elements of the reference characters that went into his shop assistant character: Granville, the belittled shop assistant nephew from the sitcom Open All Hours, who got stuck with all the shop duties from his uncle and felt like life was passing him by, and the silly Monty Python gumbies, that complained of hurting brains - lovable and much loved characters, but not ones you'd really want to be forever. We all want to be loved, but we want to be respected as well.

For all his fierce posturing around Gabriel, there is a brief moment in S2E3 where Crowley backs down and treats Gabriel as an equal - and that is reflected in a change of dress as well. His outside jacket off and sleeve-garters on, Crowley sports a look we haven't seen since S1 when he was home alone in his Mayfair flat. He patiently explains gravity to a curious Gabriel and then describes his "Operation Lovebirds" plan to his puzzled companion. He admits he hasn't "done weather in ages." It's just a quiet, charming moment, watching two ex-archangels get along together.

You're smiling, aren't you?

This meta continues in Part 2: Foils of War, where the differences between Gabriel and Crowley get explored in more detail, and how Aziraphale and Beelzebub act as mirrors to each other a few times as well.

This meta is part of a series on Gabriel: Gabriel as a Shoulder Angel: S1 Study S2 Study Part 1: Ep.1 The Arrival and Ep. 2 The Clue S2 Study Part 2: Ep.3 I Know Where I'm Going and Ep. 5 The Ball S2 Study Part 3: Ep.6 Every Day

First-Order Archangels Part 2: Foils of War

First-Order Archangels Part 3: Seeing Eye to Eye

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #gabriel #the only first-order archangel in the room #or you know the universe #aziraphale #garden of eden #fallen angel #his royal smugness #how will our hero cope #maybe you'll spot an archangel #book of job #vavoom

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

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Undercover in a Skin Tight Skirt

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU Chief isn’t fond of sending his scantily clad wife in as bait

Warnings: Misogyny, mentions of rape and murder, near sexual assault, suggestive language, provocative clothing, description of gore, alcohol, religious allusions

Work Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

“The unsub is hunting within what seems to be a pentagram,” Reid explained. “Each club creates a point on the star while the bars have already formed the circle.”

“What is he sacrificing virgins?” Garcia rhetorically asked over the phone. “I don’t know about you but night clubs and bars isn’t where I’d be hunting virgins.”

“Maybe he’s trying to point to the immortality of these types of places. You know alcohol, sex, drugs,” Emily suggested.

“So he’s kidnapping these girls and then he’s raping and murdering them to what? Punish them for their promiscuity?” Morgan suggested.

“Or he feels entitled to them,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s taking them because he believes in polygamy because he’s a man but isn’t receiving the female attention he feels he deserves?”

“Or he feels he deserves as certain woman. Given that every victim was between the ages of 20 and 30, had H/C hair, E/C eyes, and a S/T (skin tone) complexion,” my husband, Aaron suggested.

“Okay so we’ve got a religious man who feels entitled to women, shouldn’t be too hard to find,” JJ said sarcastically.

“Well we need to find him before he finds another girl tonight. If he follows his pattern we’ll have Phoebe Simpson,” the girl who was currently missing, “show up dead tomorrow.”

After some research from Garcia and more talking through the profile we found the unsub, Pastor Daryl Richardson. Now the team was just trying to figure out how to catch him since we knew we’d need to catch him in the act. Unfortunately everyone was dancing around me going undercover since no one wanted to suggest putting the boss’ wife in danger.

Finally I had had enough. “Why don’t I just go undercover? Everyone knows I perfectly match the unsub’s type.”

“Y/N,” my husband’s voice immediately warned, not happy about the suggestion.

“Why not?” the local sheriff asked. “Seems like a good plan to me.”

“Because this is an increasingly unstable and erratic unsub and I won’t put my wife in that kind of danger. We’ll figure out another way to catch him. End of discussion,” Hotch declared before storming off.

“Aaron,” I called after him, getting out of my seat to follow. “Aaron what the hell?” I asked once I caught up with him. “Even before I even got into the BAU we both agreed we wouldn’t let our personal lives interfere with a case. Now you’re letting our marriage get in the way of catching this unsub.”

“I am not making this personal,” Aaron insisted.

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t let your wife do this?” I challenged. “Why didn’t you say my agent or team member?” Aaron was at a loss for words. He knew the ‘that’s not what I meant’ argument wouldn’t work on a profiler. “Look me in the eyes and honestly say you wouldn’t let JJ or Emily do this if they fit the unsub’s type.”

Aaron couldn’t lie to his wife. Truthfully he would be hesitant to allow this with any of his other agents but he wouldn’t forbid it the same way he did with his wife. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Fine you can go undercover but there will be cameras on you at all times, you’ll have a weapon, an agent or officer within ten feet of you, and your outfit won’t be too revealing,” he listed. I rolled my eyes at the final command but agreed nonetheless. Seeing my eye roll, Aaron switched to my lighthearted husband that I rarely saw at work. “What? I have to keep some things just for me.” I let out a laugh at that, heading back into our workspace as Aaron returned to the stoic BAU Chief.

“Agent L/N will be going undercover to be picked up by the unsub. Officers and agents will be stationed throughout the club keeping an eye out for Richardson and my agent. Agent L/N will also have a weapon on her in case of emergencies but there will be cameras on her at all times. When Agents Prentiss and Reid tell us to move over the comms we all move to apprehend the suspect. Is that clear?” Aaron command the room. He wasn’t going to allow any slip ups while his wife was the most vulnerable person in the room. “We’ll reconvene in an hour to give everyone their positions.” The officers all agreed, splitting off to get ready while the sheriff and the rest of your team began looking at the layout of the club.

“Y/N, do you have something you can wear that would attract the unsub’s attention?” Derek asked.

I thought for a second, considering what was usually in my go bag. “No it’s all t-shirts and business casual outfits.”

“There’s a mall just a mile up the road,” the sheriff offered.

“Reid, JJ, go with her to find something for tonight,” Hotch ordered.

“Why am I going shopping?” he protested.

“Because you have sense and will make sure whatever she wears isn’t too bad,” he explained, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

So Spencer begrudgingly followed JJ and I to the Suburban, with me in the drivers seat. “Do you need something too?” I asked her.

“Probably, I don’t travel with a lot of mini skirts,” she joked.

“Can you believe Aaron actually said my outfit can’t be too revealing?” I asked with a scoff.

“Oh I believe it,” JJ laughed. “He sends death glares to every officer who looks at you a little too long.”

“He does not,” I dismissed.

“He does,” she insisted. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

“No, have you Spence?” I asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

“He does sometimes,” he agreed.

“Oh my god how did I never notice?” I wondered as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

After a few minutes I found a leather skirt and a bustier top. An outfit similar to the ones many of the girls were last seen wearing.

“What do you think?” I asked JJ, stepping out of the dressing room.

“You look great! Hotch is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

“Yeah he definitely will. I’ll make it up to him,” I shrugged. Walking out into the public area I found Spencer in a seat, tapping away on his phone. “What do you think, Spence?”

He glanced up, his jaw dropping open. He had never seen me dress like this, usually I stuck to business casual or field gear. “Wow, you look…” he couldn’t even stutter out the words.

Later that night I was doing my makeup in my hotel room, having already gotten changed and done my hair. I heard the door unlock, alerting me to Aaron’s presence. “The cab is here,” he announced walking into the bathroom. Through the mirror I could see him freeze as he caught sight of me. “This is what you’re wearing?” he asked carefully. What he really wanted to say was that there was no way in hell he was ever letting another man lay his eyes on his wife like this.

“It’s similar to what most of the other girls were wearing,” I explained nonchalantly, standing to face him. His gaze immediately slipped down to my chest before settling on my face again. “I’ll make it worth your while tonight,” I promised, sliding my arms around the back of his neck.

Aaron pursed his lips, considering your prospect. “Fine,” he agreed. “C’mon, we need to get you and JJ in the cab.”

Once I got downstairs the team was waiting for me. Derek immediately wolf whistled. “Damn.”

“Wow, you’re really gonna let this happen, Hotch?” Rossi asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in the field? We’re gonna have to let this get fairly far before we can give the order to grab him.”

“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I’m not letting her go into that club without me. We made vows to not let our personal lives interfere with our professional ones.”

JJ and I rode in the cab together acting like already tipsy friends. She almost immediately split off with one of the officers, leaving me at the bar alone. Everyone had a comm except for me, leaving me in the dark about where Richardson could be. The only protection I had as a tiny gun strapped to the inside of my thigh, just barely hidden by the skirt. It was the only place I could conceal it given the tight and revealing nature of my outfit.

It wasn’t long before the pastor slid into the seat next to me. “Can I top off your drink?” he asked, a southern accent detectable in his voice.

“Um sure,” I agreed shyly. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I’m sure I’d remember you,” he flirted, his hand already on my knee.

If I didn’t know what I knew about this man I’d honestly be charmed. He didn’t seem to hate women like we profiled but given his level of violence and dominance towards his victims I knew he was picturing all kinds of fucked up ways to torture me. “Oh I’m visiting a friend but she seems to have found a new friend for the night,” I nodded over to JJ who was still dancing with that officer.

“Well maybe I can be your new friend?” he suggested, his fingertips now grazing the hem of my skirt.

“I’d like that,” I smiled brightly, downing my drink before slipping off the stool, leading him to the dance floor.

We danced for a little while, letting him put his hands almost anywhere he wanted. I caught glimpses of my teammates but they were always gone in the blink of an eye and I was a little disappointed to not see Aaron. But nevertheless I let this guy grind on me for a few songs before he pulled me close to his body. “How about we go somewhere quieter? So we can get to know each other,” he suggested in my ear. I nodded eagerly, whirling around to take his hand.

He led me through a series of back doors and hallways. We went so far into the building I began to fear that the team would lose sight of me on the cameras.

Eventually we ended up in a back room. He held the door open for me, forcing me to enter first. “Finally, we can talk,” he said through a creepy smile, locking the door behind him.

My alarms were going off. I knew I was in serious danger now as I tried to back up a little. But he advanced quicker than I anticipated, dragging me onto the floor with him already straddling me. Surely this was enough evidence and my team would come to the rescue. “Get off of me,” I insisted, trying to push him away.

“Girls like you dressing like fucking sluts, just asking for it. You need a Man of God to show you how you should behave,” he said, pulling out duct tape which he began putting over my mouth. He began placing the tape on my arm when he froze. I was still struggling against his weight, all of my FBI training useless against this beast of a man as he put his full weight on me. He reached his hand underneath my skirt when his fingers met the metal of the gun. “What the hell is this?” he yelled angrily, ripping the gun out. He immediately pressed it to my temple. “What are you? A cop?”

“It’s just for protection!” I insisted. “Please I’ll do anything you want.” That was a genuine plea for my life. I had no clue if the team knew where I was or if they had even seen me leave.

“Take off your top,” he ordered angrily, pulling the gun away from my head but still pointing it at me.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, my trembling hands immediately going to the fasteners of the top. Based on what we profiled this was a major deviation from his routine. But before the man got too frustrated by my genuine inability to undo the top I hear Derek’s scary voice.

“FBI!” he yelled before the door burst open. It all happened so fast Richardson didn’t even have time to react as the door swung open. Several agents and officers were immediately on top of him, pulling him off of me. The next thing I saw was my husband’s face. His rough palms were immediately holding my jaw asking me if I was okay, gently pulling off the duct tape.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” I agreed, standing up on shaky legs with his help.

Reid and Prentiss ran in, Spencer already holding out his jacket for me. Hotch took it, wrapping it around my shoulders as he tucked my head under his arm as he led me outside. There were already news reporters eager to get a shot of the man that had been terrorizing the city but they became equally interested in “the lone survivor” being escorted under the FBI agent’s arm.

Back at the police station I had been given hot coffee and a blanket as Aaron sat beside me on the couch. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

“No, the furthest he got was reaching the gun,” I tried to shrug him off. I hated feeling like a victim. I’m an FBI agent who did the job I signed up for.

“He won’t talk,” Derek said, exiting the interrogation room. “We’re not going to be able to intimidate him.”

“Let me try,” I immediately suggested. “We profiled him as a narcissist. The fact that he didn’t get to hurt me will drive him insane. He won’t like that a woman has power over him either. Especially one dressed like this,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“No, absolutely not,” Aaron immediately disagreed. “Y/N you just went through a major trauma. He was a second away from raping you.” He was basically begging me to understand how afraid he was.

“He’s in cuffs, I’ll be fine. Aaron, this is the only chance we have if finding Phoebe Simpson alive.”

He sighed deeply. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m in the room.”

“He won’t talk to me while you’re in the room, I have to be in there alone.” Aaron didn’t like it but he he knew I was right so he just nodded before following me towards the interrogation room.

As I entered the room I could immediately feel Richardson’s eyes rake down my body. “You know for a ‘Man of God’ you sure do have a habit of looking at girls like they’re pieces of meat.”

“It’s your job as a woman to fulfill me,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins lust, Pastor?”

“It’s not lust to look at what’s mine. God told me that you’re mine.”

“A little late for that,” I mocked, wiggling my ring finger to show off my wedding rings. “Married.”

“Your husband lets you dress like a slut for other men to see? This is why you needed me tonight to show you your place below men, satisfying men.”

“Well I know you’re unsatisfied. They’re already calling me the lone survivor,” I bragged, taking a seat finally. I crossed my arms under my chest, revealing even more cleavage.

Richardson’s eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there. “What do you mean lone survivor? I haven’t done anything wrong. Except apparently showing you the consequences of your actions is against the law.”

“You know, we have profilers here. That’s how we caught you, they figured out that you kidnap, rape, and murder women to have control over them.”

“I do have control over them.”

“So you are the one that has been kidnapping and murdering these women.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are you just tried to do it to me.”

“No I’m not!” he yelled lunging across the table. I didn’t even flinch, knowing he was restrained, something I was proud of until I heard the door bang open.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hotch storm up to Richardson, trying to intimidate him. “Hotch, it’s fine. He’s restrained,” I said, never taking my eyes off the unsub. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Leave.” Closing his mouth again he complied, storming out of the room.

Outside every member of the BAU had their jaws dropped. Even if it was part of the plan they’d never talk to him the way Y/N just had. Hotch was fuming, not at his wife but at the man who was looking at her like a piece of meat.

“We already know you’re the one hurting these girls, tell us where Phoebe is and I’ll tell the prosecutor you were compliant.”

“What so my sentence gets reduced from five life sentences to four?” he spat.

Establishing my dominance wasn’t working anymore so I stood up. “Among other privileges in prison,” I coyly suggested, sitting on the table next to him. I was keenly aware of how high my skirt was riding right now.

Outside Hotch was screaming in his mind for his wife to not get within reach of the very dangerous man she was interrogating. The team nervously observed his angry expression.

“So tell us where Phoebe is and maybe I’ll make an appearance in your life again once or twice. I’d be so grateful.”

His hands were now straining against the cuffs to touch me but I was just out of reach. Unable to let the idea of sex with a woman he wanted to control go, he relented. “I brought all the girls to a friend’s farm.” With that I quickly hopped off the table, strutting out of the room. “Hey! What do I get?”

“Nothing, you get nothing,” I promised, exiting the room. “I’m coming with,” I said to the team already grabbing the bag of extra clothes and heading for a bathroom. I changed the fastest I ever had in my life and soon I was running out to the Suburban, my team and field gear already inside. Hopping in we took off as I strapped on my vest and boots.

“Never knew you were such a temptress,” Derek laughed.

“Men are so easy to manipulate when you take away what they want.”

We caught up with the rest of the SWAT team just as we pulled up to the farm. “We’ll take the house!” Aaron ordered and we followed him. Morgan kicked down the door and we were immediately confronted with the most putrid smell.

We went through clearing the rooms until I entered the bedroom. The smell became so strong I nearly gagged and I was horrified to see the already decomposing body of Phoebe Simpson. “We got a body in the bedroom,” I announced.

“Is is Simpson?” Rossi asked as he entered.

“Yeah,” I sighed dejectedly.

As Aaron came in he was horrified to see the state of the body. Aside from the decomposition she had been left in an abused state, cast aside like garbage. He became disgusted realizing that could’ve been Y/N. He knew she was safe, there was more law enforcement surrounding that nightclub than the White House but he still couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He immediately reached for his wife, pulling her into his chest to assure himself she was there. Breathing in the scent of her hair as they exited the room.

Masterlist

Smutty follow up

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #hotch #hotch x reader

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littlebluespoon · 10 months

Text

Isolated ~ Stuck (Octo!König) Ch 5

Apologies for the longer wait, I had uni and family and new tattoos to deal with and I also tried to make this chapter longer.

But here we are, chapter 5

König reaches out to you. You reach out to someone else.

2K, MDNI 18+ stalking, mentions of vomiting, hybrids and all that jazz.

🤦🏻 knew there was something I’d forgotten to put in the notes.

Perle is German for Pearl and kleiner artz is German for little doctor

A03 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/51314596/chapters/131934805

~~~

It had been weeks since you received the pictures. You were going to throw them in the pile of rubbish for the incinerator but realised that would leave a chance for other people to see them and if whoever this was found out you’d thrown the pictures out well, you didn’t want to think about it. You scavenged a box from recycling and shoved everything from the first ‘gift’ to the pictures in it and kicked it under your bed. Out of sight and hopefully out of mind was what you were going for.

By the time you had dealt with the ‘gifts’ and rechecked your room for any signs of another person or hidden cameras you had missed breakfast. It was a big deal though as you were spending the morning doing inventory and ordering supplies, busy work that kept you at your desk where you knew you had a stash of protein bars. Where you were supposed to have a stash of protein bars. Either you’d miscounted how many you had left or you had a thief. Your thief had to be Gaz, the fox hybrid had a habit of stealing when he was bored. He never took anything that was important to you or work related, usually food or clothes he knew you had spares of. You’d had to hunt him down several times to find your missing hoodies and socks. It seemed you were destined to go hungry until lunch today.

The knock on your door was unexpected. You were off medical duty today in order to stock count so no one should be coming to you for medical care,

“Who is it?” you call out through the closed door.

“It’s me Perle, can I come in?” the heavy, Austrian accent gave him away. König. It was here you realised you’d never actually spoken with him, too him certainly but never with. You’d never heard his voice.

Another knock startled you, “König? Yeah, come in,” You got up and made for your med kit, you might be off duty but you’re still the only one on base with the training needed for König’s medical care and considering your past experiences you were expecting the worst.

A muffin. Your favourite muffin. König was holding your favourite muffin. He was holding your favourite muffin? You stared at him as he crossed the doorway, assessing him. No blood, no missing or extra limbs, no limp, no obviously broken bones. He didn’t need medical attention from what you could see. Unless it was something embarrassing and private but unlike other soldiers on base you didn’t think the Colonel was the type to sleep around and contract several STDs.

Confused, you just continued staring at him until he offered you the muffin,

“You missed breakfast this morning. Thought you might be hungry.” He gave a small shrug as he handed you the muffin.

“I did. I am,” you give him a bright smile, “Thanks, these are my favourite too!” munching on the muffin and assured that he wasn’t in danger of passing out on you, you settled back behind your desk and gestured for him to sit too.

“So just a muffin that brought you down or do you need something from me?” you ask around a mouthful, thinking that maybe this was a more routine medical issue.

“I can’t come and see my favourite Kleiner Artz?” his eyes scrunch up underneath his mask, it’s a small sign that tells you he’s smiling. Ghosts’ eyes do the same, that how you know, “You missed breakfast and it was pancake day, you never miss pancake day so I wanted to check on you. Noticed your teammates didn’t come see you, is that how the legendary 141 operate?” His concerned tone is what you notice most, it sounds genuine enough but there just something about it that leaves you on edge.

“Ah, you’re scouting.” Throwing the wrapper in the bin before mustering your professional voice, the one you use on superiors who try to refuse medical treatment, “While I appreciate the concern Colonel, my team and I operate just fine. I’m quite happy with my working conditions and no, I’m not interested in a pay rise. Does that satisfy you?” plastering a fake smile on your face you wait for him to dismiss himself, even though you don’t technically have to conform to the PMCs ranks you feel it’s disrespectful to fully dismiss them.

He slowly shuffles towards the door, stopping and shaking his head before closing it behind him. Like he had something else to say however you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as you had supply forms to be completing.

~~~~~

It was after 3pm before you had finished all the forms which meant if you wanted them ordered today you had to hand them to your lieutenant personally, which was no easy task. Figuring one of the sergeants might have seen him at some point you stop by their shared office first,

“Hey, has LT been around today?” standing in the doorway you watch as Soap lines up a spit ball with Gaz’s head,

“Something about meeting with the Cap and paperwork. Probably in his office.” Comes the reply from Gaz. Just as he looks up towards you Soap sees his moment and fires, hitting Gaz right above his eye.

“Ha, that serves you right for eating all my snacks. I’ll be back, gotta get these to LT before four.” You walk off, throwing a wave behind you and keeping an ear out for the chaos that often followed the two.

Just as Gaz had said, Ghost was in his office. Cursing at paperwork and idiots and probably every officer on base by the sounds of it. Knocking on his door you waited for the command to enter and give him your request,

“Supply forms sir, there’s a few of them that are urgent. Should probably take priority over field reports.” You hand him the forms, knowing he’d take the opportunity to do anything other than read recruits reports.

“Thanks, I’ll get them in tonight,” he puts them on top of a pile but doesn’t dismiss you as expected, “You missed breakfast. Everything solid?” he asks.

“Yes sir, just overslept.” You give him nod, keeping it short so he has less time to sense the lie.

“Alright, let me know if you need anything though yeah?” He doesn’t dismiss you until you acknowledge his indirect order after which you make a beeline back to your office. You always feel like Ghost sees your soul whenever you stand in front of him like that and you need some time to decompress. Especially with the paranoia from last night still lingering.

~~~~~

Your office was a safe space, despite all the physical trauma it sees, it’s where you go to centre yourself. To just be. For you it’s a sanctuary of hope, of where you do your best work and in the moments where there’s no emergency to be dealt with its tranquil and peaceful. With the rain tapping against the window and all your paperwork done, you settle in to enjoy a quiet moment. Closing the door and with your back against it, eyes closed and just breathing. In, out. In for one, two, three, four, five. Out for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

The silence you can hear is a rare thing on a military base. No shouting, banging, not even a vehicle passing. Just the rain. And? Bubble wrap? Focusing on the sound, pop, pop, pop. It’s not a gun, you’re far too familiar with those and it’s not bubble wrap. The sounds are too long, it’s like someone blowing a bubble with gum and then it pops. The sound echoes in the empty hallways so you settle for counting the pops until you can’t hear anymore; one, two, three… seventy two… ninety five… one hundred and sixteen. The pops eventually faded and after the last one you opened your eyes. Your office the way you left it, except for one detail. A peach envelope.

There, in the middle of your clean desk lay a nightmare and all you could do was stare at it. Frozen. Your door was locked. You double checked. You always double check because of all the medications in it. Your door was locked and your window doesn’t even open, the key to it being lost forever ago. Your door was locked, how was this envelope on your desk. What else had this person done? Where else had they been? How? Where? When? Who?

The questions swirling around your head left your heart rate climbing and your hands shaking. You could barely open the envelope because of the shaking. As you tore it open you took another moment, in and out. Breathe in, breathe out. Getting a hold of yourself before you read it. As the shakes slowed you could make out the typed writing;

My Dearest Heart,

I hope you had a pleasant rest. Mine was wonderful, dreaming of you. I hope that pleasant dreams were the reason you missed breakfast and not anything nasty. You looked so worn down when I saw you in his office, I do hope he isn’t making your life difficult. Oh My Heart, I hope you know that I would do anything for you. I would damn the world if it was what you wanted from me. I’ve left you some presents in your drawer, hopefully this time that dreadful fox doesn’t steal them. I can’t have My Heart going hungry after all.

With all my love,

Your Soul

Retching you lunged for your bin, throwing up what little you had eaten that morning. They had been following you. You knew they were watching but they had followed you this morning and you hadn’t seen them. What good was a soldier who isn’t aware of their surroundings? How could you have missed them? The halls were empty, they should have been obvious but they weren’t. Unless they weren’t physically following you? Could they be watching from the cameras? Could the be using other people to follow you? You were all trained military personnel, there were hundreds of ways to follow a target, you knew that. They could be anywhere. You might have never even seen them in person.

~~~~~

The letter burned a hole in your combat pockets until you could make it back to your room after lunch. You had to constantly remind yourself not to reach to check it was still there and hadn’t fallen out. Lunch was quiet, with the Lieutenant still drowning in paperwork and Soap running a demolitions class for recruits it was just you and Gaz. Until he had to run before he was late for a meeting and it was just you, alone at your table in the noisy mess hall, picking at your food until you deemed you’d spent an appropriate amount of time being seen by people.

Walking back to your room, your legs felt like lead. Like they were getting heavier with each step. You took the longer route back, sticking to hallways that were always populated, saluting where necessary and saying hello to other people just to prolong your pain. You didn’t want to go back to your room. It’s peace had been ruined. You didn’t want to go back to your office, it too being soiled.

Your feet kept you along the familiar paths, pulling you closer with each step as your mind wandered. Lists of people. Theories about how. Questions about why. With your head buzzing with paranoia and questions, you didn’t even notice when your feet stopped outside a door and your hand had already knocked,

“Enter.” The gruff voice called out through the wood. Breathe in, breathe out. The questions in your head stopped abruptly as you opened the door and stepped through, the click of it echoing in the room. Breathe in, breathe out. Looking at him across the room, the one person you feel certain your stalker can’t be, one last big breath in and out,

“Lieutenant Riley? I need your help sir.” Your voice shakes, your whole body tensing, as if preparing for a fight as your hand reaches into your pocket and pulls out the envelope. He stands slowly, reaching out for the letter as he assesses you, he watches as your body collapses the second the paper leaves your hand.

#bluespoonswriting #octo!könig #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod fanfic

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