#Castle: Suicide Squeeze

[pollylynn]

Title: Potent Potable WC: 1000

“I can’t miss what I didn’t have.” 

— Richard Castle, The Suicide Squeeze (2  x 15)

She should never have let him talk her into going out for a drink. She certainly should never have let him talk her into an appletini. But he’d badgered. She’d caved. And now she’s sitting with him in the kind of bar she never, ever goes to, sipping an appletini. 

“It’s disgusting,” she says for what is either the fourth or the fortieth time. “Gross.” 

“Well if you’d finish it, I could get us real drinks.” He takes another sip of his own decidedly unfinished, radioactive atrocity. He tries and fails to disguise his grimace. “Mmm. Celebratory.” 

“No real drinks.” She snatches at the stem and takes an ill-advisedly large swallow. “A drink, I said. A. Drink.” She gives him an irritated salute with her glass and nearly baptizes herself. As she pitches forward to save her lap, she wonders somewhat muzzily if the stuff is more or less corrosive than anti-freeze. 

“More,” he says as he scowls down into the green depths. “Has to be more.” 

For a moment, she’s startled by what seems to be a manifestation of his familial talent for mind reading, but it’s worse than that. She’s apparently musing aloud under the influence, and what the hell is in these things anyway. It’s not like she’s a lightweight or something.

“Excuse me.” She shoves the drink pointedly away from her as she waves one hand to get the bartender’s attention. With the other, she’s fishing in her jacket pocket for cash. “Can I get a water and settle up?” 

“Settle up? No!” He sounds devastated. Even for someone with his tendency toward melodrama, it’s more than a bit much. It's the appletinis. It has to be the appletinis.

He catches the bartender’s attention first. Of course he does. He provides an assist in whisking away the sticky, spurious martini glasses and mutters something in a low voice as he gestures to the tippy top shelf. A pair of rocks glasses appears with no rocks in them. What is in them is a bare finger of whisky that smells absolutely divine—that clings to the glass when she tilts the amber liquid for the sheer pleasure of seeing the way it catches the light. 

“The appletinis,” he says in somber tones as he hoists his new glass, “were not celebratory.” 

She frowns at him a minute, just long enough to make sure that he understands that she has not agreed to the drink she very definitely about to have. She lets the frown loosen the tiniest bit and brings her glass into solid, satisfying contact with his, “Not the least bit celebratory." 

They lapse into silence, properly celebratory drinks notwithstanding. It’s not awkward. It certainly should be—she keeps expecting it to be, but it keeps on not being awkward. 

It’s not exactly comfortable, either. She still has the strong sense that she shouldn’t have let him talk her into this. She is fairly certain, in fact, that when Esposito had peeled off at the font gate of Cano Vega’s property, she should have done the same, But she’d let him talk her into more than appletinis. 

If it had just been appletinis, she could have laughed it off as one of his wiseass jokes. But she has known since Esposito peeled off and she didn’t, since he initiated the appletini challenge and started talking about real drinks being the prize for finishing the sub–cough syrup concoction. she’s known the whole time that real drinks would follow unreal drinks.

In the not-uncomfortable silence, she wonders what that’s about. The whisky is remarkable. It sets right in her mouth every thing the appletini had put wrong. It returns her to herself. It’s a relief after descending into whatever weird, beyond-drunk place they’d both been sent by their poor choices in life, but it’s unnerving, too. The silence and the internal reset leave her with time to ponder the why of it—this place, these two barstools, his elbow brushing hers as they reach for their drinks in perfect synchrony. 

She’d like to stop at the why not? She needs a drink from time to time. They’ve done a nice thing for Maggie Vega and Lara. Why not celebrate? Why not stick around for the real drink, the one that does not, as it turns out, say “I’m grieving” in quite the same way an appletini apparently does. 

But when she steps up and contemplates the why, she thinks they might be grieving. Or he might be and she’s along for the ride. 

She doesn’t know she’s going to ask until she’s already asking. In her halting, fumbling way, she’s asking, “What do you know about him? I mean . . .  what has your mom . . . said?” 

She trails off into awkwardness and there it is—the much-anticipated uncomfortable-ness. She can’t imagine what possessed her. She flashes immediately to the on-the-fly tragedy he’d created when’s he’d had the gall to ask how he got so interested in death. She thinks of the three or four or six obviously fictional stories—all completely different from one another—that she’s heard him deflect with on talk shows and behind a table piled high with his books at a signing. 

She clenches the rocks glass in her hand hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She squirms internally and holds herself rigid to keep it from becoming external. Literal. She curses herself for very definitely not having enough cash on her to cover however much this top-shelf whisky costs, otherwise she’d be tossing that down and beating a path to the door. 

The silence stretches and stretches and stretches out. He breaks it. 

“Love child,” he says with a lop-sided smile into the depths of his glass. “Just like Lara. She’s always told me I was a love child.”

It’s an honest answer when she expected utter flippancy. It’s an answer that exists nowhere among the many myths she’s heard him peddle.

It is, apparently, a product of the power of the appletini. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this series has been far more erratic than I anticipated; the dog is wanting to walk upwards of 5 miles/2 hours per day, and teaching is a wreck. I will try to get back to at least 2 or 3 per week soon. Thanks to those who are sticking with me. Appleton's on me. Ew. That would be sticky.

[renegadesstuff]

“Smooth.”

“That was Joe-freakin'-Torre. I gotta call my dad.” 🤭

S2E15, “Suicide Squeeze” aired 14 years ago (February 8, 2010) 💙

[zer0pm]

Imagine the reason why you failed to meet up with Leon and Ashley was because Luis kept leading you both into trouble.

You should have left this man in the sack.

You knew the moment he opened his mouth that you should have slapped the tape back on and turned around. Because he looked like trouble, more trouble than he was worth. And so far for however long you’ve been stuck with him, he hasn’t proven you wrong. Luis Serra is unequivocally the most insufferable man you have ever met.

“Remind me again how we got ourselves in this situation,” you huffed, the weight of your back pressed firmly against the door. The Spaniard is beside you, also using his weight to help keep the door closed. More accurately, to keep the monsters outside from forcing their way in and tearing you two to pieces. You can practically feel the wood splintering under each aggressive push and you both were struggling to keep hold.

The man’s face contorts to a slight wince, grey eyes cast down to the ground in mild guilt. “You know, my friend, everything happened so quickly. To recall every causal detail would be-”

“It was a rhetorical question!” you snap at him with an exasperated glare, your patience completely run thin. A violent jolt of the door nearly splits the wood off its hinges, raising the tension. “We can’t stay here forever, we got to do something.”

“De acuerdo.” Luis nods, quickly scanning the room for an exit. The dimly lit space was enclosed with no other obvious doors leading to another area but his eyes fall upon a tall wardrobe that looked hardly big enough for two people. He makes eye contact with you with a telling glint in his gaze and you immediately catch onto his plan. An unenthusiastic groan reverberates from your throat before you throw him a committed nod.

He adjusts his stance and waits for you to follow suit while you both were still supporting the door on its weakening frame. “On my count… ¡Uno-!”

Your whole body surges forward as you’re suddenly ripped away from the door by a strong hand around your wrist and practically dragged to the wardrobe. Luis pulls you into a tight embrace before hurriedly backing you both inside the enclosed space, using his free hand to seal the opening behind you shut.

You were about to yell at him asking what the hell happened to “two” and “three” but thought better of it at the terrifying sound of wood thunderously breaking from outside.

Booming footsteps stomp by your hiding spot and ominous mutterings in Luis’ native tongue fills the room. Judging by the varying noises, you deduce that there were at least a handful of plaga hunting you. To take them on in such tight quarters would be suicide so the best that either of you can hope for is that they eventually leave with the impression that you and Luis miraculously disappeared into another part of this godforsaken castle.

As you wait anxiously for your pursuers to give up their search here, you finally realize your close proximity to Luis. The space within the wardrobe was so tight, every inch of the front of your body pressed his. His spicy musk fills your nostrils, making you go dizzy. His breath fans against your lips and you subconsciously breathe it in, tasting his air upon your tongue. His body heat wraps around you with a warmth so inviting that you felt yourself tempted to lean into him. Being so close to this man was dangerous, he is standing still and yet already he’s overwhelming your senses effortlessly, ensnaring you in a mesmeric daze.

Luis feels you shudder and instinctively snakes the hand that was on your back to your shoulder, squeezing gently in a considerate attempt to ease your tensions. The comforting gesture makes you relax and you unwittingly fall into his hold. In the darkness, your noses bump. You immediately feel the muscles of his body stiffen, realization also clicking in his mind of your shared closeness.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. The sudden stillness causes your heart to pound in your chest harder than the looming dangers just a few feet away, survival becoming a mere afterthought and discarded in the back of your mind. Then finally, as if you are in a trance, you make the first move.

Your hands on his shoulders glide to his thick neck, thumbs curiously caress along the quickening pulse throbbing beneath the skin. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs heavily under your soft touch. His warm breathing falls shallow, mingling with yours and turning the air between you two hot, thick, and heavy. You wished then that you can see his eyes, know what he was thinking. But the darkness obscured your vision and it was imperative that you two remained quiet while enemies lingered nearby, so every mood and intent that you can possibly think of can only be speculated by physical cues. But there were none. Aside from the hand on your shoulder, Luis remains completely stagnant.

Another expectant moment and still he does nothing. Disappointment slowly creeps into your heart and you began to remove your hands from his neck. The sound of rough scratching along the floorboard makes you twist your head in attention.

And that is when you felt it. The unmistakable softness of lips pressed upon the lobe of your ear. If you didn’t turn your head to the side-

Shivers tingle down your spine, sparks set off across your entire body. A sharp intake of breath escapes you and you thought for certain that you have forsaken you both. However, the steps and voices outside the wardrobe have receded, followed by the familiar scratching on the ground. Then all fell into silence.

Is it safe?

“Hueles bien,” his husky voice whispers absentmindedly, but you didn’t catch it over the sound of your blood pumping.

You whisper back, “What?”

Luis stutters, “I-I said that I think we’re good now.”

You’re fairly certain he wasn’t being truthful but didn’t press the matter. As carefully as you could, you place your hand behind you against the wardrobe opening, pushing slightly to peak outside, grateful that it did not creak. You don’t see anything in your immediate field of vision and no suspicious shuffling can be heard. Deciding to press your luck, you open the door further and was met with relief to find that the plaga are completely gone from the room. You leave the tight space first and newfound anxiety washes over you when you turn to meet Luis who also steps out of the wardrobe and is now meeting your eyes.

A lit torch that hung on the stone wall beside you illuminated his handsome face, giving his skin a nice warm glow. But his expression was neither warm or cold. In fact, it was unreadable, just like his eyes right now which are focused solely on you. The memory of his lips on your skin comes back burning to the forefront of your mind and you couldn’t help but reach up to touch the spot with your fingertips. His grey eyes follow your movements, lingering on the spot, and they seemed to glint anew under the flame’s light. The cracks in his stony expression giving way to emotions that you recognized immediately. They were familiar to you, because you wore them as well.

Anticipation and desire.

They still ran through you now and pumped your burning hearts with deep want. But again, you both do nothing. Simply locked in a perpetual state of longing.

Luis clears his throat, effectively breaking the spell. “I should, uh-”

“-check if the coast is clear.” you finish for him.

He nods, “Sí, sí.” And with that, he steps away from you, almost regretfully so, striding over to the shattered doorframe and ducking his head out in search of any further potential dangers. As soon as his back was turned, you sigh out all of the tension that you were holding inside your lungs.

A million thoughts ran in your head and they are all about Luis. Yes, the Spaniard had a way of getting on your nerves. The man was practically an expert in raising your blood pressure. But at the same time, there was no denying that you are helplessly charmed by him. And from how Luis was acting just now, it seems you affect him the same way as if you both are drawn to each other like magnets. This growing attraction makes things very complicated. And now is not the time for complications. You have to reunite with Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham.

Mentally, you slap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. While Luis was still keeping a lookout, you took the time to observe your surroundings and notice scratches along the floor. Your eyes follow the marks all the way to the stone wall across from you. Driven by curiosity, you approach the wall and feel alongside the cracks, catching a distinctive line that runs around, making a large shape. In the middle of the shape is the torch that serves as the only source of light in the room, burning brightly in its sconce. The holder hangs awkwardly on the stone, angled in a way as if it has been disturbed. Your eyes flash wide in understanding. So this is where your infected hunters disappeared to. Ingenius. You wondered if they were still on the other side searching for you and Luis but decided not to even entertain the idea by touching the torch. Luis’ voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Okay, no plaga around. We’re good to go,” he says assuringly, returning to your side. “It’s dark out there, though. So we’re going to need a light.”

His grey eyes follow your gaze and perk up at the sight of the torch. “Esto. This will do nicely,” his hand reaches for it.

Alarms go off in your head. “No, wait-!”

But it was too late. The moment he grabbed the sconce with one hand in order to pull the torch out of it with the other, the support shifts under his weight and somewhere within the wall, foreboding clicks of a mechanism triggering fills the air.

Oh no.

The wall gives way. You and the dark-haired man quickly jump away from it and behind the space it once occupied, more torches came into view, illuminating the darkness- all held by a pack of familiar infected cultists. All who now had eyes dead set on you both. For the umpteenth time in this room, palpable tensions run high. And once again, your companion tries to breaks it.

“Uh, hehe. Hola, mis amigos,” Luis greets nervously, donning a charming yet shaky grin before pretending to look around in bewildered embarrassment. “¡Esto no es el baño!”

You didn’t even have time to reproach him, flight instinct immediately kicking in. “Run!” you yell and the two of you sprint out of the room through the broken exit, murderous growls and vehement shouts trailing close behind.

Running frantically through a series of corridors, dodging hatchets and crossbow bolts, the both of you shove through a set of double doors and found yourselves in what looks to be the remains of a grand ballroom. Luis throws the torch down one of the large holes on the floor and ducks inside an inconspicuous pile of rubble with an evidently spacious interior, dragging you down along with him. Sweat poured down your faces as you sat in the small space in fearful anticipation. Your relentless hunters enter the ballroom, running past the both of you and lingering around in pursuit. There were small openings in the rubble that allowed you to observe their movements with bated breaths. Thankfully after a few minutes, they were all far away.

You whisper to Luis, “We’re going to need some help.”

Wholeheartedly agreeing with your statement, the man grabs the communication device from his person and presses a series of buttons. He muffles the rings from the comm in his hands and after a few seconds, the other line picks up.

“Luis, where are you two?” It was Leon’s voice that came through the static, his face lit up on the small screen. He did not seem happy. Makes sense as you were supposed to meet him and Ashley with their suppressants ages ago.

“Sorry,” Luis frowns. “We, uh, we screwed up-”

“We?!” you hiss under your breath.

“Come to our rescue, Prince Charming.”

“Give me that!” you snap at him through gritted teeth, ripping the comm from the Spaniard’s hand. “Leon, we’re trapped in the ballroom past the courtyard. Place is crawling with monsters.”

Upon seeing the genuine distress on your face, Leon’s expression changed to that of determination, “Standby. We’re heading your way now.”

“Don’t be late to the dance.” Luis chimes in, leaning over your shoulder to look at the blonde in the comm.

You narrowly catch the annoyed glare in Leon’s eyes before the man pressed to your side ends the call with a push of a button. Too exhausted to express your frustration for his behavior, you opted to make yourself comfortable in the new hiding spot. It was hardly better than the wardrobe as you were forced to be seated, but at least you weren’t packed against each other like sardines, touching only by the shoulders this time around. And you were able to move your arms and legs freely too.

Still, you found yourself missing Luis’ enveloping warmth, missing his protective arm around your body, missing his soft lips upon your skin. You felt the temperature in your cheeks rise again.

“This one is on me,” you hear him say lowly, his tone apologetic.

You shake your head, willing your desire in check in favor of attempting to alleviate his guilt, “At least this spot is a little more spacious.”

The man hums thoughtfully. “Sí. Pero… I’ll be honest, my friend,” he muses aloud, “I preferred the wardrobe.”

You turn your head towards him when he said this. He didn’t meet your curious gaze, seemingly intent on keeping watch for the plaga through the openings of your shared hiding place. It gave you a moment to look him over, attentive eyes wandering from the thick locks of his dark hair, to the butterfly lashes of his eyes, to the attractive shape of his nose and cheekbones until they stopped at his thick neck and broad jawline. The sight brings you back to when you touched him, your hands itching to reach up to him again but your seated position didn’t allow you to do so. Instead, you brush the back of your hand against his. He reflexively twitches upon your subtle caress. Luis still isn’t looking at you, but you can hear his breath hitch. These are the signs you were looking for.

“Well, as long as we’re both being honest,” you sigh, putting your head on his shoulder, secretly relishing in your closeness to him. “Me too.”

For a moment, you thought he would say and do nothing again. But then his hand lifts to intertwine his fingers with yours, clasping your palms together. A new kind of warmth washes over you as the pad of his thumb softly strokes across your skin. Another hand grasps your chin gently, guiding you to look up at him.

You expected anticipation and desire to return to his eyes, but something much deeper, much fiercer, and much more intimate burns within those magnetic grey irises. His head dips down towards you, your noses bumping into one another again, and his mouth lingers over yours. This time, you won’t turn away.

“¿Es cierto?” His low voice is barely above a whisper, dripping huskily with tender yearning.

Luis Serra is trouble. He makes things complicated. But right now as you two close the distance between your wanting lips- complications be damned.

[frvnkcastles]

sorry for being anon but omg!!! i love ur writing so much i always check to see if u have posted, anyway i was wondering if you could maybe write something where reader nd frank have a big argument nd it almost leads to angry sex but reader ends up saying a safe word or something and its just super fluffy and sad and cute… love u

POISON FROM THE SAME VINE ➸ F. CASTLE

Summary: When an argument with Frank escalates, you have to use your safeword.

Warnings: Making out, not quite smut, use of safe word, implied suicide ideation, feminine nicknames, hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: I hope you like this anon!! I’m always happy to write about Frank being a comforting ole teddy bear. Missing him a lil extra tonight :(

You and Frank rarely argued, hardly even disagreed, unless the air was playful and teasing — on those occasions, he made sure to push your buttons — but for the most part, the two of you were in complete harmony and understanding of each other. So, when you did fight, it had to be about something serious.

Tonight, it was the fact that he had disappeared for weeks without a trace, not even a note, not a phone call or a text message to reassure you that he was alive. Maybe you could have swallowed that, but when you heard from Curtis that Frank had contacted him, you had seen red. Why hadn’t he bothered to get Curtis to relay a message? Why hadn’t he put in the effort for you?

It hurt all the more when you thought back to the night you had told him about your struggles with abandonment and always feeling like you were gonna lose your loved ones. Like you’d never be good enough and somehow you’d push him away. And he had nodded, kissed the back of your hand and promised that would never happen.

And yet, here you were, reminding him of that very night while angrily fighting back tears. You were sad, but more than that, you were angry, and you didn’t want him to get out of this too easily.

”I couldn’t risk it”, he repeated what he had told you countless times already, his tone loud but not yelling, his eyes trained on his hands while you stood across from him, heartbroken and betrayed. He couldn’t bear looking at you, well-aware that he had done you dirty, but at the same time, he had very little regret in him. If going no-contact was going to keep you alive, then he’d do it all over again.

”What if it didn’t keep me alive, Frank? What if I was convinced you were dead and I— what if I—”, you began, but choked up before you could get the words out. Frank understood what you had implied, though, and finally, he looked up at you with wide eyes.

”Promise me it won’t come to that. Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll keep going”, he insisted, but scoffing, you wiped your eyes again and sniffled.

”You’re in no position to make demands right now”, you reminded before crossing your shaky arms. ”I’m really hurt, Frank. You could have given me some kind of sign”, you continued, and with a huff, Frank lifted his hand to pinch his nose.

”I told you, I coulda gotten you killed and nothin’ is worth that”, he argued back, and waving your hand to dismiss him, you moved away from him but he reached for your hand. You reacted quickly, pushing him off of you with a glare, and for a second, you both just stood there, staring at each other, inches away from one another with the air warm and heavy between you.

Maybe it was the anger amplifying the longing that you had both felt for each other, but within a blink of an eye, you were rushing to meet in the middle in a fiery kiss. You closed your eyes and clamored to push his jacket off of his shoulders while his hand came to rest on your neck, not squeezing but only holding you close to him. You had missed the taste of him, and concluding from the groan rumbling from his throat, the feeling was mutual.

In a flurry of movements, the two of you found yourselves in the bedroom, your hands pushing Frank’s jacket off of his broad shoulders while his landed on your hips to firmly hold onto you. His lips were on yours without pause, his scent in your nose and all your senses overwhelmed with just him.

It escalated quickly, your back suddenly against the mattress and the buttons of Frank’s shirt open as he climbed on top of you, and when he lifted your leg around his hips, you didn’t protest.

But something about the hot air started to feel constricting, something about his mouth on your neck making your heartrate pick up in a way that wasn’t so exhilirating. Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling while your hands clamored up to Frank’s shoulders, just to rest there while you waited for the anxiety to pass. But your stomach kept turning and you weren’t quite sure how to keep breathing and before you knew it, you were opening your mouth only for a hoarse sound to come out, one that didn’t even remotely resemble your voice.

”Sa—safeword. Frank—”, you stuttered, and within an instant, without even a shove to his shoulders, the man was off of you, his eyebrows knitted together as he sat back on the bed and looked at you. With quick, rapid breaths, you sat up against the headboard and looked down at your shaky hands, losing your ability to speak, and Frank quickly picked up on the seriousness of the situation.

”Shit.” He cleared his throat before looking down at you, lowering himself to be on your level. ”Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. I won’t touch you anymore, alright? You’re okay. We don’t gotta keep goin’”, he reassured, his voice level and calm and the opposite of everything you were — a trembling, panicking mess.

”Listen to me, aight? It’s okay. Breathe with me, sweet girl. We’re just sittin’ here, you and I. Nothin’ else has to happen. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, yeah?” he went on, the rumble of his voice sending something familiar and calm through your system. Slowly, you managed and nod and you finally looked up at him — and as soon as your eyes met his, you burst into tears.

”I don’t want to fight, I don’t want this”, you stammered through sobs and brought your hands to your face. ”But I was so scared, Frank. You mean everything to me and I thought it was over. I didn’t appreciate you enough while you were here with me”, you continued rambling, everything pouring out of you as you cried, and with his heart breaking in two, Frank frowned.

”Can I hold you, sweetheart? That okay?” he asked quietly, and with an immediate nod, you climbed onto the foot of the bed where he didn’t hesitate to wrap his strong arms around you. He held you tight, shushing you and closing you in the warmth of his embrace with a litany of kisses left on the top of your head.

”I love you. You hear me? I love you. I can’t fuckin’ bear the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you. I know it was shitty but I thought it was the best I could do, y’know?” he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek as he licked his lips and interlocked his fingers with you. ”I never wanted you to be scared. Sometimes… I think you’re better off without me.”

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. ”Frank, I’d rather be in danger with you than be safe and alone. I don’t want to be without you. Please, don’t do that to me”, you pleaded, and for a moment, he looked at you before chuckling.

”You think you ain’t appreciatin’ me enough? Shit, girl, I barely survive without ya. You give me so much and—and what’s more, you make me feel like I deserve it”, Frank shrugged and looked down at where your hands were joined. ”If you want me here, then… I’ll be here. Or if I have to go, then I’ll take you with me.”

Smiling, you reached up to kiss him, your lips connecting in a much softer way this time. His finger caressed your cheek, and it widened your smile as you rested your forehead against his. ”Thank you.”

You were both quiet as Frank continued to hold you, but eventually, he spoke up in a way that seemed almost meek, so unlike him. ”Did I hurt you? When you…”, he began, and with a thick swallow, you shook your head.

”You didn’t hurt me, baby. I just… I don’t think either of us were in the right mindset, huh?” you pointed out, and with another chuckle, Frank nodded. Still, he leaned down to kiss you again, gentle and careful.

”Will you let me stay tonight, anyway? Been sleepin’ like shit without you”, he murmured, and breaking into a grin, you nodded.

”Me too.”

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid Part 2

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts). Eventual loki x reader pairing. Reader is a maid.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 1 Series masterlist Main Masterlist

🧹🧹🧹

You wake up to the Snake throwing you out of your cot.

"Witch! You dare to sleep in? Get up and start working NOW!" he yells at you.

You groan in pain as you try getting up and starting the day. The medicine Banner gave you is working wonders; you feel none of the pain and your wrist has significantly healed overnight.

You make your way to the kings wing when the Snake corners you against a wall.

"The king has asked me to send you another personal message." he sneers. Your eyes widen in fear when he suddenly slaps you across the face. You feel the wound in your lip split open again, the now familiar metallic taste filling your mouth. He grabs your cheeks with one hand and squeezes painfully.

"Watch your back, witch. I'm watching your every step." he threatens.

He throws you to the floor and walks away, as you gather your items and continue to the kings quarters, refusing to let him see you in pain.

Silent tears are brimming your eyes. You blink them away and take a shaky breath.

I don't know how much longer I can take this.

You manage to complete your tasks within the allotted time given you to by King Loki. You leave his wing with a long sigh of relief, praying that you never have to see him again.

A few weeks go by as you manage to do your work properly and on time to avoid the king. However, the guard Snake, seems intent on making you fail, on breaking you into submission. Without reprieve, he has consistently targeted you every night, to limit your capabilities. Your response and demeanour remains the same: silent and emotionless. As a result, the pain compounded, the prevention of your body to receive time to heal made you weaker. Last night was the worst, as you were too weak and in pain to fight back. You return to Banner, who provides you with more medication but insists that something must be done to stop them from this continuous abuse. You say nothing as you stare back at him, knowing there is nothing either of you can do. You've been sold to the crown to pay for your parent's debt and there was no way out.

The next day, you wake up in unbearable pain. You look in the mirror and curse at yourself. You eye is a deep purple, yellow and green on the outskirts where your nose and eyebrow is. You had fogotten to apply the balm last night, as you had slipped into unconsciousness after the traumatic events of the night.

You decide to wear a shawl over your head and to keep your eyes to the ground while you walk around the castle to the King's wing. You manage to get through most of the work without seeing anyone. When you get to the king's chambers, you close the door behind you and tighten the shawl around.

You start your work, slowly moving around. You still have a limp from the pain in your ankle after the guards had stomped on it the other night.

You work your way around his chambers, focused on cleaning the large windows. You're slowly stepping up on the tall stool with one foot and hanging the other in the air to avoid putting pressure on it. You slowly lift your arms but hiss in pain from the stretch of your bruised ribs. You're shaking with every movement as you clean. You're so focused on ignoring the pain and cleaning that the sudden sound of a throat clearing behind you makes you jump in fear. You yelp as you try to steady yourself but put too much pressure on your ankle and begin falling to the floor when you're suddenly wrapped in strong arms and behind helped back up onto your feet.

You see a flash of green as you're being pulled up and immediate know who it is. You look down at your shoes.

"Sorry darling, I didn't mean to scare you." Loki says with amusement.

You stay quiet as you stare at the floor. You feel his stare boring into you.

"Not much of a talker I see... very well, continue on with your work. I've been pleased so far, so please continue." He says as he steps to the side to let you get back to the windows.

From the corner of your eye, you see him grab the book from his night stand and sit on his bed.

He notices your hesitancy "Don't mind me, I will simply be reading. He turns his head down to the book.

You swallow thickly, anxiety seeping into your bones. All of the rumours you've heard of his cruelty creep into your mind and you start to shake. You force yourself to calm down and return to your work.

Keeping your down as you do not want him to see your bruises on your face, they're especially brutal this time. You turn to the stool and begin stepping up on it. Leaning on the wall, you put one leg up and look behind you quickly to make sure the king doesn't see you as you grip the wall and jump up a level of the stool on one foot. You keep the second foot flat on the stool, but put no pressure on it, to avoid suspicion and keep the pain at bay. You grab the cloth in your hand and stretch yourself slowly to reach the top of the glass and move your arm slowly side to side. You stretch too far and groaning loudly in pain as you retract and pause to take a deep breath. You don't dare look behind you. You know he heard you but you refuse to acknowledge it.

You try again and start cleaning the windows, moving your arm side to side and manage to finish without hissing out loud in pain. You're biting the inside of your cheek as you start lowering yourself from the stool. You pause to grip the wall again and hop down the first step, you miss it and instinctively put your pained ankle down to prevent from falling. As soon as your foot steps on the stool, you yelp in pain and jump off the stool, gripping the wall to steady yourself. Your head is down, you're breathing rapidly, knuckles turning white as you try to regulate your breathing.

You're so focused on waiting for the pain to go away that you don't hear Loki get up and walk up behind you until you feel his hand on your elbow.

You stiffen at the touch.

"Turn around." he orders you.

You feel tears forming in your eyes. This is it. He's going to send me to the dungeons and have me killed or tortured, or worse. You swallow hard and slowly turn around on one foot while staring at the floor.

"Look at me." he orders you again.

You slowly lift your head up and look at him. You see his eyes widen slightly and his jaw tick.

"What happened?" he commands.

His eyes are a deep green, you can see the emotion behind them.

What do I say? I can't tell him what's happening... he will never believe me. I'm a simple maid. Who am I to snitch or accuse a royal guard?

"I slipped and fell." you reply queitly.

A lie. He can taste it. He looks at you and slits his eyes as he ponders your answer.

"You mean to tell me, you slipped and fell in such a way that split your lip, gave you a black eye and seriously sprained your ankle almost the brink of it being broken?" he asks you incredulously.

"It was a very bad fall your highness." you say queitly.

He chuckles at your answer "You know I am the God of Lies and Mischief, and yet you still choose to lie to me. I do not take you for a fool. You speak eloquently, you seem somewhat educated and intelligent. Yet, you still lie to me."

You swallow thickly and sway slightly out of anxiety.

"Apologies your highness. It was not meant in ill-will."

He sighs deeply "I can smell Dr. Banner's healing balm on your skin. He created it for me, to numb the pain while I am at war. Why would a 'simple maid' such as yourself need the balm?....I will ask you one last time, what happened?"

You're shaking, his eyes look you up and down with concern.

You remain quiet. Too fearful to lie or say the truth.

He sighs deeply "You refuse to answer my question again? You understand the consequences of such disrespectful actions towards a royal. Why?" he questions.

You shift again "I can't lie if i remain quiet, your highness."

He stops and stares at you. He is shocked by your answer. His eyes shimmer and lips curly slightly into a smirk; he's impressed.

"Very well... You may leave now."

He watches you limp to the closet, put the supplies away and lower the shawl over your face again.

You bid him farewell and take your leave.

When you leave his chambers he can't help but wonder about you.

She lied. I know she did. Who does she fear so intently that she is willing to lie to her king for? Something isn't right here. Her eyes... they looked empty....

He paces his room and stares out his window, coming up with a plan to figure out what is happening within his kingdom's walls.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 3

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to send me suggestions for scenes/drabbles that I could add into the stroy :)

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@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

[bookofbonbon]

lamb to the slaughter.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader x Aemond Targaryen. Aegon III Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: Character death. Suicide. Sedation. This is dark, dark.

Summary: You have developed an unhealthy coping mechanism post-war at the detriment of your own safety and worry of your husband. Made only worse by the encouragement of your lovers.

Word Count: 1604.

You’re woken suddenly, screams smothered before they can leave your throat by a calloused hand already pressed over your mouth. Your chest heaves up and down, panic rising as your hands claw at the hand and you try to focus your vision but, it’s too hard as all your senses work themselves into a frenzy in the near pitch black of your bed chambers.

“Shh… do not fret my little lamb, it is your love,” a deep, raspy voice whispers from the darkness.

Your panic ceases immediately upon recognising the voice. Breath slowing, you allow yourself to sink back into the softness of your bed, eyes fluttering closed in relief as he removes his hand.

“Aegon…” you breathe his name shakily and open your eyes. “You frightened me.”

Your gaze meets his in the dark, mischief, desire, and something else you can’t quite place lurking in the depths of his eyes. His visits becoming more frequent, more urgent.

“You have my apology, sweet lamb but, we must go now,” he leans back and straightens himself.

His cold and calloused hands intertwine with yours as he helps you out of bed and leads you out of your chambers. The cold stone walls and floor of the Keep cause you to shiver, your free hand rubbing at your arm for some warmth. The thought to stop and have you put something warmer on crosses Aegon’s mind but, he quickly dismisses it. He likes that he can see the peaks of your hardened nipples through the sheer material of your night shift. Besides, you wouldn’t need warm clothes where he planned to take you.

“Wait-” you pull on his hand, bringing him to a stop. “What of Aeg-”

“He is sound asleep with the rest of the Keep,” Aegon is quick to answer you.

Pulling on your hand to continue, you hold your ground.

“What of Aemond?” you ask of your other lover, worried about his whereabouts.

A muscle in Aegon’s jaw twitches, there was no time for this but, you peer up at him innocently and, he softens. Dropping your hand from his, Aegon stands in front of you and cups your face between his hands.

“Aemond will meet us in the tower.”

“The tower?”  you ask, confused.

“Of my old room.”

A flash of recognition in your eyes.

“But we cannot stop again. Do you understand lamb?” he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nod your head keenly and, he takes your hand in his again. The two of you fly through the Keep, feet feather-light and barely touching the ground as you navigate your way through the twists and turns of the castle. You can’t help the giggles that make their way past your lips. You felt like a child all over again, running from trouble with Aegon as his Queen-mother or Ser Cole would hunt the pair of you down as a result of whatever mischief the two of you had gotten up to again. You missed this feeling and as if sensing your reminiscing, Aegon squeezes your hand, looking back at you with a handsome grin.

Finally coming to a halt at a door, the worn wood is all too familiar as you recognise it as the entrance to Aegon’s child-hood bed chambers. Pushing on the heavy wood, both of you wince as it groans at the hinges. Aegon opens it just enough for the two of you to slip in, closing it behind him as you take the lead up the winding stairs. You come to a standstill once you reach the landing, eyes taking in the familiar space.

Coming up from behind you, Aegon’s arm snakes its way around your waist as he places soft kisses to your neck.

“It still looks the same.”

“Because it still is the same from the last time we were here,” he hums, and a warm flush goes through your body. Your eyes flickering toward the rumpled sheets from the last time you had been up here with him and Aemond years ago.

Aegon chuckles darkly as you recall the memory. Turning you toward him, he places his lips to yours, wanting to relive the memory once again. His kisses are bruising. Hasty, and lust filled, all tongues and teeth as he walks you backwards until the frame of his bed presses into your skin.

“Brother,” a smooth, velveteen voice calls Aegon, halting him from carrying out his lecherous thoughts. 

Your gaze immediately follows where the voice comes from. Aemond standing tall and strong by the window frame of Aegon’s bed chamber, broad back facing you.

“Aemond,” you smile, happy to see his ever-brooding self.

He turns toward the two of you, sapphire eye twinkling under the moon’s light.

“You forget yourself, brother,” Aemond address Aegon. “The reason we are here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes but, uncages you from between his arms.

“Come, sweet lamb,” Aemond holds his hand out to you. “I want you to see the view.”

You move toward him, hand sliding into his as he pulls you closer, Aegon trailing behind you.

Aemond releases your hand, cupping your face and bringing his lips down on yours. His kisses are deep and slow, savouring every touch as his tongue flickers out and slides smoothly into your mouth.

Unlike Aegon however, he does not allow himself to lose focus.

When he pulls away, you feel just as warm and fuzzy as you did with Aegon which is evident in the dazed look in your eye.

The two brothers share a look, you were exactly where they wanted you to be.

Aemond manoeuvres you in front of him as Aegon steps up onto the window ledge as he had done so many times before.

“Here, lamb.”

Aegon helps you and, you allow him to pull you up without question. Aemond joining you on the other side, each of them taking one of your hands in theirs.

“Do you remember what we spoke of lamb?” Aemond asks you.

You nod your head, recalling the past conversation.

“Is this the only way?” you ask nervously, voice shaking from the height.

“If we do not take this into our own hands, they will do it themselves and they will make it painful,” Aegon answers, adding just enough to frighten you but, not turn you away.

“Then we shall do what we must,” you exhale a heavy breath.

Your hand tightens around theirs out of fear. But you try to push it aside. You have them both with you. They are doing this with you, you have nothing to fear.

Eyes focused on the view below, Aemond and Aegon share another look across you, a sly smirk on Aemond’s lips and sinister smile across Aegon’s.

“Close your eyes,” Aegon instructs, and you do.

Silence hangs in the air, fear rolling off of you in waves but, both men squeeze your hand in comfort.

“It will feel like nothing and be over in less than a second” Aemond lies to reassure you.

“Now, all you have to do is step off,” Aegon’s voice whispers in your ear.

You do as your told and step off of the ledge, allowing your body to free-fall forward but, it lasts less than a split-second, your body violently pulled back and into the room.

The fall is cushioned by someone else’s body, and you roll to your side, coming face to face with your husband, Aegon the Younger.

Your face twists at the sight of him but, he’s the least of your concerns as your eyes flicker to the window. Panic flooding your veins as Aemond and Aegon are both gone.

You push yourself off of the floor and rush to the window, searching below for their bodies but, your pulled back just as quickly again by Aegon.

“You must cease this at once,” Aegon shouts as you fight against him.  

“You were supposed to be sleeping!”

“Why do you do this?” he grabs at your face, searching your eyes for an answer but, there is nothing there. Just a shell of your former self, lifeless and soulless. “Why do you try to leave me?”

“You know why.”

“I thought you loved me?”

“I do-” you choke, tears swimming in your eyes. “But I love them more.”

Aegon lets go of you defeated, tears welling in his own eyes. No matter how many times he told you, you refused to listen. This was not how it was supposed to be. Without another word, Aegon leaves you alone in the room as he disappears down the stairs.

Your solitude does not last long however, as his presence is replaced with his King’s Guard and the Grand Maester.

You try to escape but, the two of them corner you, his King’s Guard ceasing you and, forcibly holding your mouth open. The Grand Maester forces a liquid into your mouth and your forced to swallow. You try to fight back but, your limbs become heavy, vision blurring until you slump in the knight’s hold.

Aegon and Aemond watch on, jaws flexing, and fists clenched as your carried away from them yet again.

“My patience runs thin, brother,” Aegon speaks through gritted teeth. “I want her back. I want her on this side, now.”

Aemond holds his tongue, listening carefully to the conversation that takes place at the bottom of the stairwell.

“…the people would sooner put her to the sword than have a mad Queen who chases ghosts ruling over them.”

“All in due time, brother,” Aemond clasps Aegon’s shoulder. “All in due time will we successfully lead our little lamb to the slaughter.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2022. All rights reserved.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 3 - Unstable

Summary

You wake up to a bad day.

CW// PTSD, Depression, Anger issues, Violence (not really, but kind of) mention of a suicide attempt, implied-no detail.

Word count // 8,048

Now

Spring 2024

To say that you woke up in a bad mood would be an understatement. Your mind is still cloudy with the remnants of sleep, but for a moment, your brain believes she is sleeping peacefully in the room next to yours. You think about knocking on her door and asking her what she wants for breakfast. You think about her throwing a pillow at you and telling you to get out.

So when you finally open your eyes and are greeted by the sight of Tommy's spare room instead of your own, your world comes crashing down once again. It feels like you've lost her... again. 

Tears slowly fall down your face, and you are too exhausted to care. You hate crying, but in the last seven months without Annabel, you feel like you've cried more than ever in your entire life. Every tear feels like a reminder of what you no longer have, of how lonely it feels being alone without her by your side. The heartbreak is almost too much to bear, and you feel numb from it all. 

The pain you feel becomes more profound than ever as you lay in your bed. The emotional pain becomes physical, and you feel as if your chest is being torn into two separate parts: one desperately trying to mend your broken heart and the other chasing the loss of Annabel. 

If only you had gotten there earlier. If only you had tried harder. If only you could get the image of her blood out of your head. All you see is the puddle of blood on the filthy floor. Her blood was worth more than the ground she died on. It was worth a golden palace, a castle fit for the Gods. Not a dark, disgusting room.   

You’re stuck picturing her blood as it slowly creeps towards you. You’re in that room again. You can’t get out. She’s so close to you but just out of reach. You watch as her blood mixes with the dirt on the concrete floor, as her life slips from her. You can still hear her final breath. The broken sound haunts you as you lay beside her, forced to do nothing but watch your promise to Dean shatter. 

Your soft tears must have become sobs at one point as there’s a knock on the door. The knock is weak, but it sounds like a bat cracking a skull. You’re in that room. You stare into her dying eyes.

Shuffling fills the hallway outside your door, and you can hear soft footsteps as someone moves towards it. The door rattles, and a slight click fills the room as the door unlocks. Your breaths turn frantic at the sound, and you clutch the blanket to your chest. Your eyes are sealed shut, unable to tear yourself from your own broken mind. 

A hand cautiously lands on your shoulder, and you scream. Your body thrashes, desperately attempting to throw them off you. Their entire body weight pushes you into the bed, holding your arms as you scream for them to leave Annabel alone. They don’t let go of you, only pulling you closer into their chest as you try to hit their chest. It was as useless and just as pathetic as your attempt to make them stop all those months ago. You’re pathetic. 

"Open your eyes, it's me, it's me," a familiar voice calls, trying to comfort and reassure you. You feel their hands leave your arms and cup your face as they softly speak to you, but your eyes remain closed, your mind clouded and uncertain. The voice tries to calm you and remind you that you're safe, but you're not entirely there, still stuck in that room. You feel a soothing warmth from their touch, but it's not enough to break through your haze of anxiousness. You remain still and silent, your eyes closed.

You let out a broken sob and feel the other person sink into the bed, pulling you close to them and their chest. They squeeze you tightly in their embrace, their voice breaking and cracking at the sound of your tears. "Oh, Sunshine," they whisper softly, their voice pained and choked. Their hold on you tightens as you remain silent and still, your eyes closed and your face burrowed against their chest.

You feel their chest rise and fall, the sound of their breathing filling your ears and filling you with a deep sense of comfort and safety. You bury yourself into their chest, tears slowly rolling down your face as you allow yourself to feel comforted by their presence.

You grip tightly onto their shirt as you lie on their chest, a slight shake of your body as you attempt to calm and collect yourself. You try to speak again, but your voice is hoarse and dry from crying and screaming. "She-" you manage to get out before the tears roll down your face once again, the pain in your throat making it difficult to continue speaking. Your grip on their shirt remains firm, and you don't seem willing or able to let go at this moment. You simply sit there, your tears falling down your cheeks and onto their shirt, as you feel their heartbeat beneath your body. Alive .

"I know, I know," the soft and soothing voice speaks once again, bringing you back to reality as you feel their hands gently stroke your hair and smooth out the bedhead. 

"Tommy," you whisper quietly to yourself, suddenly realising that the voice and the touch belong to the person you're leaning into. You slowly look up, seeing Tommy's features for the first time, his expression filled with concern and worry for you. You close your eyes once more, feeling his hands still in your hair, and you try to collect yourself and calm your racing thoughts.

"I'm here, I’m always here." Tommy reminds you gently, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair and slowly detangling it as you lie on top of him. As his fingers work through the knots, you feel the gentle massage and soothing sensations, and you lean back onto his chest with an air of relaxation.

You open your eyes, and instead of Annabel's ivy-green eyes that seemed to shine like the sun hitting the surface of a lake, all you see is Tommy’s velvety brown eyes searching for yours. He radiates empathy and understanding, like a warm hearth filling the room and slowly melting away the ice in your heart. You feel his fingers slowly brushing through your hair, and the weight that hangs on your shoulders starts to fade away as you lean in even closer to him. You don't say a word, taking in the warm embrace and comfort that Tommy brings you in this moment.

The bed dips and shifts underneath you, and you jolt in Tommy's embrace, your shoulders tensing up at the movement. Tommy's other hand tightens around your waist, keeping you still, but it's a gentle and reassuring hold more than anything. You lift your head slightly from Tommy as a mug is gently placed on the bedside table closest to you. 

As Maria's familiar black hair comes into view, a soft glow of relief and comfort passes through your body. Maria looks at you with a gentle smile as she sets the mug on the table beside you, her expression one of empathetic sadness as the light from the window reflects in her eyes. She quickly apologises for startling you, and you notice the sadness written on her face after seeing your tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. You feel your head sink lower into Tommy's chest, seeking his warmth and comfort in a time when you feel so exposed and vulnerable.

Instead of addressing your current… state of distress, Maria simply nods towards the mug she set down. "I made some coffee for you, thought you might need it this morning," her words make you glance over towards the coffee that now sits on the bedside table, and you express your thanks once more before she moves and hovers at the door. 

“Oh, and Tommy, when you have a moment, I’d like to talk with my husband.” She smiles and closes the door silently behind her.  

Tommy's hand softly holds your head; his fingers tangle in your hair in a comforting gesture that has become relaxing for him rather than yourself after all these years. You hum and close your eyes, letting yourself relax and sink into the feeling as his fingers gently pull and tug at your hair, his touch filled with gentle affection. You realise how much he cares for you in these silent moments when his words don't fill the air, and you feel a deep appreciation for him as you lay in his arms.

You let out a soft sigh and sit up in the bed, pulling Tommy's hand off yourself in the process. He grumbles and shifts his body, placing his shoulder next to yours as you both sit against the headboard. You slowly look over at him; the light from outside filters in through the curtains, casting a faint glow onto his face. You now notice his hair is an absolute mess of curls. Yet, you can’t find the muscles to smile as you normally would. 

"I'm gonna set up some music for you, some colouring in books for you while I go see what Maria wants," Tommy informs you, kissing your temple before moving off the bed and exiting the room. 

You slowly slide your legs off the bed and sit up fully, stretching your sore muscles before leaning over and picking up the mug on the bedside table. You freeze with your hand on the mug's handle at the sight of the ball. You let go of the mug and pick up the ball, gently tossing it in the air once before putting it in the drawer, out of sight.

You take a sip of the hot liquid, the warmth of it filling your mouth and sending a soothing sensation down your throat. You let out a content sigh as the beverage warms your body, and you take in a deep breath before placing it back on the table and getting comfortable once again in bed.

You spend the morning listening to the various CDs Tommy brings in while attempting to focus on colouring in a stress and anxiety-themed colouring book he had picked up for you a few months before. You had initially scoffed at the book and shoved it back, but after another week of Tommy bringing it up and encouraging you to try it, your stubbornness subsided, and you finally gave it a go. And shit, did it help. 

You are so focused on colouring the dragon with as much detail and precision as possible, making sure you don't colour outside of the lines, that you don't notice the subtle movement of Tommy's body as he slowly leans against the desk beside you. After his hand lands on your shoulder, you jump and look at him, a long red line stretching across the page of your colouring book. Your glare speaks more words than you can say out loud as your eyes burn with irritation at him for ruining your hard work. You carefully place your pencils down and cross your arms in an attempt to maintain your anger.

Tommy silently mouths a quick apology before leaning over and pulling the headphones from your ears. "I know you're having one of your days, but Maria and I have to leave town for the night," Tommy informs you, and your heart and mind start racing once again, your eyes widening at the thought of him leaving. No - he can't go. You shake your head rapidly, suddenly filled with a sense of desperation.

If Tommy and Maria leave, you'll be alone. Alone . Tommy is the only person who can understand you, and Maria is someone you are slowly getting closer to. If they go, you'll be alone with your thoughts and nightmares, even for just a night. The idea of it sends a chill down your spine, and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing them to stay while also trying to remain calm and composed.

You've spent days and nights alone countless times when the memories of Annabel are forced into the back of your mind. But when those thoughts and memories slowly resurface and claw at your skin, you need their presence to comfort you and help you stay strong. They understand you and your emotions and fears in a way that no one else can, and you need their support, even if it's just for one night. 

Tommy’s hand reaches for your shoulder, and you look up at him as he smiles apologetically. Without needing to ask for further explanation, Tommy continues. “There’s word of traders coming to a town nearby, and Maria’s needed to settle agreements. I need to go, too.”

“Why do you need to go?” 

Tommy sighs as he turns to look at the ruined colouring book, observing the colours you chose in detail, almost as if he's avoiding looking you in the eyes. "There's word of certain pills…" he trails off, his voice sounding more tired than usual as he speaks. 

Your eyes search Tommy's for a moment as he stares at the ruined colouring page in front of him,  looking for any kind of insight into the words he's struggling to say out loud. Maria has had countless trade exchanges alone, without needing Tommy to accompany her, so protection or support can't be the reason he's going. Pills, which pills was he talking about? What about pills made him want to leave?

Your eyes snap up to his as a cold, numbing shock slowly washes over you, a feeling of dread and anxiety rising within you. Of course, the pills were meant for you . Tommy wants to drug you , wanting to numb you and make you an empty shell so you don't feel or think anything anymore. Just like your brother did to you as a child when he couldn’t handle you, numbing your emotions and making you the emotionless shell of a person. Your head spins with anger, confusion, and fear. How could Tommy want to do this to you? 

"What pills?" you ask, your voice devoid of emotion and sounding cold and dead. Your eyes stay fixed on Tommy's as he constantly changes his gaze and avoids your questioning stare. "You going to drug me now?" you continue, your voice filled with anger and resentment. You're not sure what to think or feel at this moment, and your mind runs through a myriad of possible thoughts and reasons behind Tommy's decision. You're angry, confused, and hurt.

"It's not like that," Tommy softly speaks to you as he traces the lines of the coloured dragon in the colouring book in front of you. His voice is almost a whisper, his tone and eyes betraying the emotions and thoughts you feel he's hiding behind a wall of lies. You continue to stare at him from just a few inches away, and you notice a slight shake in his hands and fingers as they trace over the colouring page. 

Your gaze remains sharp and determined as you look straight into his hurt eyes. "I'm not Dean," he says softly, his tone sounding a little hurt, as if your silent accusations have wounded him. He holds your gaze for a moment longer before frowning slightly, his eyes searching you for any sign of forgiveness or at least a softening of your glare. "I'm just trying to help you," he adds, almost as if he's pleading with you to believe him. Your eyes remain locked on him, and the tension in the air grows thicker by the second.

You shake your head and lean back in the chair, turning your face away from Tommy as you try to ignore the hurt in his eyes. "I'm not crazy," you snap at him, your voice rising with a clear hint of irritation. "I never needed them as a kid, and I certainly don't need them now," you add firmly, a slight tremor in your voice. Your gaze stays glued to the far wall, trying to avoid Tommy's eyes.

"You're not crazy," Tommy softly explains to you, his tone sounding more understanding and comforting than before. "But you feel too much. You either feel nothing, or you feel the extreme. These meds will help you," he says, his tone growing more forceful as he continues with these words. "So I don't have to worry about you doing something stupid when you can't handle your own emotions," he finishes, his voice more frustrated.

Your head shakes again in disagreement, your gaze still glued to the wall. "I didn't ask for you to worry," you repeat, your voice sounding more firm and determined than before. "I'm fine," you add, your eyes filling with an edge of frustration as you remain stubbornly fixated on the wall. You don't want to look at Tommy or listen to his words; you feel like he's trying to control your emotions and how you feel. 

"You really expect me not to worry?" Tommy explodes in frustration, the anger in his voice growing with each word. "For me to not realise that you're slowly killing yourself?" he adds, his tone getting harsher as he continues. "Because I'm not blind. I see that look in your eyes; it was the same fucking look Joel had before-" Tommy stops himself abruptly, his words trailing off as though he's about to say something else, but he quickly catches himself before he says more. He lets out another deep sigh, his face twisted with sadness, worry, and concern as he looks at you.

You stand up from the chair, the legs scratching against the floor and making a loud noise as you rise to your feet. Your anger is clearly written on your face, and you step into Tommy's space without hesitation. "If you're so worried, why are you leaving me here?" you snap angrily at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm and resentment. You stare into his eyes, waiting for him to respond as your hands rest on your hips. Your fingers clutch tightly to your clothes, and your breathing quickens slightly as the tension rises between you and Tommy.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Tommy confirms with a confident tone in his reply, not backing down to your anger and invasion into his personal space. He meets you with an unbothered and calm gaze, wanting to let you know that he doesn't feel threatened or uncomfortable with your presence near him. "I've asked Joel to come over," he adds calmly.

You roll your eyes and step back from Tommy, pacing the small distance between the desk and the bed as you rub your eyes and try to make sense of the current situation. Your mind races so fast that you can't keep up with all the thoughts and emotions that are currently flooding your brain, and it hurts your head more than if someone was physically punching it. He's leaving you here with Joel. He's going to drug you when he gets back.

"Listen, I know losing Annabel was hard-" Tommy starts to speak, but you cut him off before he can complete his sentence. 

You whip your head around and focus your gaze on him as you point your finger at him, your voice dripping with frustration and anger and with absolutely no fear or hesitation. "Don't ," you say in a harsh whisper, not wanting him to finish whatever excuse or reason he has to justify his actions. You don't want him to bring up the pain and trauma of losing Annabel, and you refuse to listen to anything else he might have to say at that moment.

Tommy sighs and continues his previous sentence despite your warning and threat, trying to make you understand his point. "But you're not the only one that lost her."

Red. Blood boiling and pure anger filling your veins and drowning out the remnants of depression. Your brain and mind are flooded with this overwhelming wave of rage, making you feel like your entire body is burning with flames. Tommy's words hit your brain like a sledgehammer, and his statement's sheer audacity and callousness spiral you into an entirely different mental state. You feel wholly overpowered by your anger, and your face is likely contorted into utter rage as your eyes stare daggers at Tommy.

"Sunshine-" Tommy's words barely register as your mind is clouded by pure rage. Before you have the chance to respond, Tommy starts to stand up from the desk slowly, his hand raised. You don't react as you keep your eyes locked on him, and your face remains frozen in a look of pure, unfiltered rage as you try to hold it in. You feel your heart racing in your chest, and your breathing grows shallower as you straighten to match Tommy's height and meet his gaze once again.

"Don't you Sunshine me," you spit with rage in your tone and hate in your eyes. At this point, you don't even care about Tommy's reasoning, his words, or anything that he's trying to say. You just want to take his stupid comment and shove it back in his face as you continue to stare daggers into the man with the audacity to call you that in the middle of your anger. Your fingers start to curl into fists, and the urge to hit something to release all your pent-up anger rises every single second. Your breathing quickens, and your chest tightens once again. "You didn't lose her," the edge of bitterness and harshness in your voice made the words hit like stones.

Tommy drops his hand and shakes his head in disbelief at your words, looking stunned and taken aback by what you just said. "What do you mean?" he asks back, a touch of confusion and hurt in his tone. "She was like a daughter to me," he adds, his voice sounding almost choked up as he struggles to hold back his emotions too. "She meant the world to me.”

You snap at the sound of his words, and all reason and rationality seem to vanish from your mind in a second. Every blood cell in your body explodes, and your body reacts automatically, taking the short step forward, raising your clenched fist, and punching Tommy in the jaw before he can fully react. He tries to dodge the punch at the last second but is too slow. The sound of your fist meeting his jaw is followed by a sharp crack as his head snaps to the side with the impact. You see a flash of shock and surprise cross his face, but you feel no remorse or guilt, only pure and unbridled anger and hatred. The pain in your abdomen sends jolts up your spine but you ignore it, the rage drowning out everything. 

Tommy's hand cradles his jaw, and you can see the red mark where your punch connected to his face. His own anger quickly swallows his soft, caring side, and he looks at you with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. His face is filled with pain and rage, but he makes no motion to retaliate as he stares stiffly at you and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down and process what just happened. His jaw clenches as he stares at you. 

"She wasn't your daughter, Tommy. She was mine. I raised her. She wasn't yours to lose. She was mine ." Your voice rises in anger as you yell, your eyes filled with rage and hatred. "You weren't there, Tommy." You point a finger at him as you continue. "You weren't fucking there." You step closer to him, the tense and uncomfortable silence slowly being filled by your growing anger and resentment. "We needed you, and you weren't there. YOU WEREN’T THERE!" you shout at him as you shove him, your tone shifting back to harsh and filled with malice.

Tommy's eyes flinch as you shove him with more force than anticipated, and he quickly closes his eyes and looks away. He stands still momentarily, and you realise you've hurt him in more ways than you initially thought. “This isn't you.” He almost whispers.

“I’m not that person anymore.” 

He takes a deep breath and nods, saying, "I'll be back tomorrow with your meds." He says, and you watch as he moves to the doorway and faces you. He looks like he wants to say something else or add something to his previous statement, but he quickly closes his mouth, shakes his head, and leaves the room.

Upon first meeting you, even if only for a moment, he was certain he had met you before. Something about you seemed all too familiar, yet he couldn't quite place it. Something about you seems like something he knows from his past, like someone he's met, like a ghost of a memory from another life. You stood in the corner of the mess hall, rifle in hand and glared at Ellie and Joel as they spoke to his brother. 

You were like a statue, unrelenting, your knuckles white as you gripped the riffle. He tried not to look at you, to give you a reason for your trigger happy fingers to aim the rifle at either him or Ellie. But when he did chance a glance at you, he realised you weren’t actually glaring at them. Your eyes were focused in their direction, sure, but your eyes were half lidded and face void of emotion and it was as if you were staring through them. You were physically there, but not mentally, Joel knew that feeling all too well. 

He realises now that the reason you didn’t remember him on your first encounter was because you weren't really there. 

When he realised that you weren’t going to put a bullet through his head for looking at you, he let his eyes wander as Tommy rambled about his life at Jackson.

Almost every inch of your body was covered in clothing. You wore a white turtleneck specked with dirt under a maroon button up shirt with moon and star buttons. Half your shirt was tucked into black jeans and accompanied by brown laced boots.

He’s not sure why he remembered what you wore that day, but he does. But what he did find interesting was your bloody knuckles and the old burn scars on the hands that gripped the gun like your life depended on it. When he allowed his eyes to wander to your face, he noticed the faint scar that started on your hairline and down across your right eyebrow, stopping at the corner of your eye. The faint and old scar was matched with a bruise on your jaw that would be a few days old. Explains the knuckles, he assumes. 

“That’s little miss sunshine,” Tommy’s voice broke his trance and he turned back to face him, his eyebrow raised in question.

Tommy nodded towards you and sighed. “It’s been a rough few months for us, we lost someone close to us. She hasn’t been…”  Tommy trailed off but he didn’t need to hear the rest of it, he knew what it was like to lose someone.        

The second time he met you, Tommy had practically dragged him to find you. After reuniting with Joel, Tommy spoke in a panicked and rushed tone as he explained how you had left without him to take care of a group the two of you were trailing in a church a few hours from Jackson. Joel followed behind him, leaving Ellie behind, as they headed for the church and the horrific scene that awaited them there. 

When they reached the church, all that was left were the bodies scattered and strewn about the place, blood pooling and stains covering each and every wall, each gruesome sight more sickening than the last.

Although Joel had taken down groups solo in the past, it was still shocking to think that one person could cause this much death. Joel stepped over body after body, checking to make sure they were dead. Of course they all were, bodies almost cold to the touch.

“You sure Sunshine is fitting for her?” Joel muttered as he stood in front of man with a crucifix sticking out of his eye. 

“They tortured her kid in front of her, Joel. Annabel was family to me and it broke me when I found them. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for her.” Tommy sighed, frustrated as he took a knife lodged into a woman's chest and pocketed it.

Joel closed his eyes and his heart clenched in his chest at the thought of Sarah bleeding out in his arms. 

The scene around him changed, and he understood. He would have done worse if these fucks had hurt Sarah. Much worse. 

When they found you in the basement, there was something unmistakable about the look in your eyes, like he knew them but couldn't quite recall from where. Maybe they were once alive with joy and laughter, but now looked empty and lifeless. Just like he had felt after Sarah and until Ellie.  

The third time you met, he noticed your look, as if you were trying to remember him, just like he was trying to remember you. Who are you?

"So why are you babysitting an adult anyways?" Ellie asks Joel, sounding both confused and annoyed as they climb the stairs, and she jumps the last step onto Tommy's porch. She shrugs her shoulders and turns back to look at Joel, as if expecting some kind of explanation for the current situation. "She's like – old. Why does she need babysitting?" she adds again, her words dripping with a slight sense of sarcasm. She seems entirely baffled by the fact that Joel is spending his time taking care of an adult, and she doesn't understand why he's babysitting her in the first place.

Joel climbs the final step and looks down at the confused and slightly annoyed Ellie, blinking as he tries to process her comments. "She's not old..." he replies back, his words almost sounding offended on behalf of you. 

"Maybe not as old as you," Ellie replies with a slight smirk and a scoff, her tone dripping with a sarcastic and dismissive attitude. Joel rolls his eyes at her comment.

Joel shakes his head and knocks on his brother's door. Tommy had come to his and Ellie's house this morning, almost begging for him to stay with you while he left town for the night. Joel hadn't understood why he was needed for the seemingly small task, and he hadn't thought too much about it until now, when he and Ellie were standing on Tommy's porch. Something must be wrong, Joel decides, and he waits for Tommy to answer the door.

When he saw you last night, you seemed okay. Well, as okay as someone can be after taking out an entire group and leaving with a nasty gash to the stomach. He had wanted to see you while you were in the clinic, but felt it was not his place and settled for Tommy’s updates on you. 

The way Tommy held you in the church, and the way you clung to him reminded him of when he found Ellie in Silver Lake. No , he wasn’t going to think about that.  

Joel places his hands on his hips and waits as Ellie folds her arms over her chest, looking slightly impatient and frustrated. Nobody answers the door, and Joel knocks again, harder this time. He waits for a longer moment, starting to worry now that nobody's coming to answer the door. He looks down at Ellie again and sees her shrug.

"We could just walk in," Ellie says in a casual and unconcerned tone, reaching for the door handle and attempting to open it. Joel quickly grabs her hand and stops her, giving her a warning look and raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Now, that would be rude, Ellie," Joel states calmly and in a mildly scolding tone, turning back to face the door. Ellie rolls her eyes at his comment and sighs at his stubbornness. She doesn't seem to care much about the idea of it being rude, so she continues to wait in silence and stares impatiently at the door. 

Another few minutes pass, and Ellie gets impatient and starts tapping her foot. "Oh, fuck this," she groans, and she quickly opens the door, leaving Joel behind without waiting for his response. He watches her go with a look of disappointment and annoyance before quickly following her into Tommy's house.

"Ellie-," Joel groans under his breath, slightly annoyed. He follows behind her, making sure to close the door as he goes, and he tries to stay calm despite being irritated with Ellie's actions right now. 

Ellie flinches slightly as raised voices echo down the hallway, and she turns to face Joel with a confused look on her face. She glances back towards the hallway, still listening to the yelling coming from inside, before looking back to Joel and waiting to see if he has any idea what's happening. Joel steps forward as he glances at Ellie, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

"She wasn't your daughter, Tommy. She was mine. I raised her. She wasn't yours to lose. She was mine . You weren't fucking there." Your voice yells, and Ellie slowly backs away towards Joel. There’s a short pause before the yelling continues. "We needed you, and you weren't there. YOU WEREN’T THERE!" You shout, and Ellie quickly finds her place behind Joel as he walks towards the yelling.   

“Well, shit.” Ellie huffs and Joel nudges her to be quiet. 

A moment later, Tommy emerges from the room and into the hallway, his face filled with pain and his jaw bright red, as if he had just been punched. Joel feels a chill run down his spine, and his heart rate spikes significantly as his mind fills with worry and concern at the sight. The argument or fight that just happened in that room must have been serious for Tommy to come out with such visible injuries. 

"What happened to you?" Ellie remarks sarcastically with a small smirk, and Joel elbows her lightly in an attempt to get her to be quiet and change her attitude. He's definitely going to need to do something about her sarcasm, and quickly too, or it might become a bigger issue in the future. Maybe they can have a serious talk later.

"She's all fucking yours," Tommy says in an annoyed tone and pushes past Joel and Ellie without waiting for a response. He opens the front door and looks back at his brother. "I'll be back tomorrow," he speaks calmly, slamming the front door shut behind him, the sound echoing throughout the house. Joel and Ellie are left standing there in silence, completely stunned by the sudden and somewhat bizarre developments that just happened. They don't even know how to process or react to the situation, but they know that they definitely want answers at this point.

Joel turns to look at Ellie, who simply shrugs again in response as she stands by the door. Joel blinks a few times as he processes the situation, feeling completely shocked and stunned by what just happened and how quickly the whole thing escalated. He sighs out of frustration and exhaustion, before walking down the narrow hallway towards the room that Tommy had exited from earlier. He's not sure what to expect from the sight that awaits him in that room, but he's determined to see for himself what Tommy meant when he said that she was all fucking yours.

Joel steps into the doorway and looks around the small room, his eyes eventually landing on you sitting at the desk in the corner. You have headphones on and are furiously scribbling in the book in front of you, oblivious to everything else happening around you. The whole room is silent except for the sound of your pencil scratching against the paper. Joel steps further into the room, watching you as he studies you closely. He notices your angry and upset expression as you colour, and your face seems completely engrossed in your work.

He glances around the room, taking in the details of the small and organised space. Suddenly, he notices that there are no signs or evidence of a fight, which confuses him even more. Before he can react, he stumbles back as a barrage of pencils fly across the room and hits his face and chest. He raises his arms quickly to protect his face in shock, but just as quickly, he looks back towards you and sees you standing from her desk with tears streaming down your face, your eyes locked onto Joel. You seem angry and hurt, and you just stare at him in silence.

Joel frowns. Those eyes, they've changed... Before, they were empty, lifeless, like a vacuum in space, but now something seemed to stare back at him with a soul-deep longing. Those eyes he knew. Those eyes that held all her emotions, everything she felt in this moment, they screamed at him.

He recalls your face, but now instead of the childlike innocence, he sees the scared and alone little girl he knew trapped behind adult eyes. 

"Get out. I don't need you," you say quietly and slowly, as if each word is difficult for you to say and as if you’re fighting back a rush of emotions. Your words come out choked and barely audible, and your eyes are filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and hurt. You just stand there glaring at him, refusing to look away and refusing to say anything more.

Joel lowers his arms and looks down at the pencils in your hands, and then he nods as he speaks to you in a calm and reassuring tone. "Tommy left," he tells you, and you do not seem to react at all to the information. Your expression remains unchanged, and you look almost frozen.

"So should you," You mutter under your breath, turning away from him and sitting down at your desk. You put on your headphones and pick up a pencil to continue colouring in the book in front of you, seemingly ignoring Joel and trying to pretend like he doesn't exist.

Joel sighs again – something he seems to be doing quite a lot lately – before bending over and picking up all the pencils that you threw at him from the floor. After carefully gathering each one and placing it back on the desk beside you, he looks back at your face again. You seem lost in your book as if his small act didn't even register in your mind. He stands there in silence for a moment, waiting for you to reply or acknowledge him, and he begins to wonder if you would notice if he left now.

"Well, I'll be here anyway if you do need anything," Joel reassures as you continue to ignore him. You do not acknowledge his words or his promise to stay nearby for you, and you just continue to colour in your book in silence. Your music is probably too loud to hear him anyway. He nods to himself and leaves you to whatever it is that you are doing, figuring you will talk to him when you are ready. He can't really do much right now other than just stay nearby and wait for you to be ready, so that's exactly what he'll do in the meantime.

Joel leaves the room in search of Ellie. He hears the telltale sound of something falling and making a clatter from the lounge room, and he stops in the hallway to listen. He tilts his head to the ceiling and closes his eyes at the sound. He runs a hand over his face as he hears Ellie swear. Great .

When he reaches the lounge room, Ellie is placing a photo frame back on the windowsill before turning around to face him. "Soooo, did she beat you up too?" she teases him, a mischievous grin on her face as she steps in front of the most likely already broken frame to hide it from view.

Joel shakes his head and goes to sit on the couch, looking somewhat tired and a little agitated. "No," he sighs in response to her teasing, not interested in playing along with it at the moment.

Ellie raises her eyebrows and breaks out into a smile, clearly entertained by the situation and her joking. "Oh, so why do you have lines of colour all over your face?" she asks curiously, waving her hand in front of her face. Joel groans quietly in response, remembering the attack with the pencils.

He stands back up from the couch and heads towards the bathroom.

Ellie shakes her head and looks over at the broken photo frame, thinking about where to hide the evidence. She doesn't seem like she wants to take responsibility and own up to her actions, and she just wants to sweep it under the rug and pretend like nothing ever happened. That's going to require some clever and creative thinking on her part.

"Don't bother hiding it. I already saw it," Joel responds to Ellie over his shoulder, his voice filled with irritation and annoyance. This seems to startle Ellie, who doesn't immediately respond. Instead, she remains by the broken photo frame, looking between it, Joel, and the bathroom.

“Shit” She mutters to herself. 

Ellie passes out – thankfully – before eleven as Joel watches the credits of the movie they had been watching. When he emerged from the bathroom after dinner, she had already moved on with her snooping and found Tommy’s collection of films. 

Ellie lies under a blanket on the couch beside Joel as he thinks about you in the room beside them. Was it you? You were so frail and delicate before, how could you be the same person as the girl he had seen singlehandedly murder an entire group of armed men? But your eyes, there was something familiar about them, and he knew for sure that it was you. He tries to think back to the time you had met before, trying to think what turned you into who you are, but he still can't quite make it make sense.

"I'm sorry for throwing my pencils at you." Joel is pulled out of his thoughts by a barely audible voice coming from the archway. He looks over and sees you standing there with your head hung low, your eyes directed downwards at your toes. You seem like you are trying to make yourself appear smaller and less dominant in your demeanour as you apologise, almost like you are expecting Joel to be mad at you. It's an interesting and unusual change in your behaviour, and he's surprised to see you acting so differently from what he had just experienced earlier.

Joel reassures you by saying, "No need to be sorry," and he nods at the armchair in front of him, instructing you to come and sit with him. You still have not met his eyes, and you just stand in the doorway for a moment. You seem reluctant and nervous to take up his offer, but you eventually slowly step over to the armchair and hesitantly sit down, still not looking up at him. You keep your head lowered, and your body language seems guarded and cautious. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks after a moment. 

“I hit him. I’ve never hit Tommy before.” You had avoided his eyes so far, but finally, your gazes meet, and your eyes were awash with regret and shame.

Joel looks over at Ellie and nods, and then he reaches down to grab the blanket and wrap it around her as he stands up. As he does so, he offers his hand to you and says, "Come, let's talk outside. Fresh air." You take his hand and allow him to lift you out of the armchair, and he leads you out of the room and outside. He's hoping that the fresh air will help to clear your head and calm you down, and maybe you will be more willing to have a conversation with him outside.

Once outside, Joel leads you down the back stairs and settles with a grunt of his own. His knees crack slightly as he sits down, and he looks up at you and nods. You sit beside him and tuck your knees into your chest, looking even smaller and more childlike than before. He studies you for a moment, trying to gauge your current thoughts and what you are thinking about, but it's not easy to tell due to your tucked-in position. He clears his throat and looks up at the clear night sky, gathering his thoughts and preparing to start the conversation.

"I don’t know what you were fighting about, but Tommy cares for you," Joel says to you, trying to put your mind at ease. "It’s going to take a lot more than a hit to the face for him to be pissed at you," he says in an attempt to reassure you, his voice softening and gaining some sympathy and kindness in the process. "Trust me on that, I’ve hit him more times than I can count and he still talks to me." He sighs and looks up at the stars, trying to find one of the constellations that Ellie showed him earlier while travelling to the university. 

You mutter a small thanks and join him in looking up at the stars. A period of silence passes, as you remain content and tranquil in the presence of each other, basking in the beauty of the night's sky and the stars that decorate your faces. 

"You look at me as if you know me, do you?" You turn to Joel with a subtle shift in your expression, and you tilt your head slightly to study him. "You seem familiar but I can't place you," you say, voicing your thoughts out loud. You still seem guarded and standoffish, but there's a slight hint of interest in your tone when you mention finding him familiar. You are trying to figure him out, and you do not want to show that you are just as intrigued in him as he is in you.

"I think so, you had a brother and sister, right?" Joel asks, looking over at you and considers your question.

“Niece. Brother and niece.” You correct him and he nods. 

“Maine?” 

You nod. 

It is you. 

"I don't - I don't remember a lot." You confess and nod, your face taking on a slightly wistful and nostalgic expression as you look back down at the steps below. Your voice takes on a pensive and introspective tone, and you seem to be lost in thought for a moment. You shake it off and look back up at Joel, meeting his eyes and speaking softly again. "Just flashes here and there," you confess in a hushed tone. "I never remembered your face. I remember the snow though," you add.

“You don’t –” Joel begins to question you but you cut him off.

“Can you tell me? Fill in the gaps," you ask, turning to look at Joel with a slight shift in your expression. There's an expectation, but also a soft request and a hopefulness in your tone, as if you are hoping that Joel will help you piece together your lost memories from before.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Joel questions your decision to push for more about your past, as if he's worried that you will be hurt by what you find out. 

You nod eagerly in response to Joel's question, looking determined and set on learning more about your past.

“Alrighty then.” Joel sighs and begins the history lesson. 

Chapter 4

Notes

I really tried to write her having a bad episode, I really hoped I did it justice. I've had my fair share of bad days and tried to write from that. I tried to make her have such an extreme jump of emotions and hope I also did that justice. And yeah, poor Tommy.

I don't want to diagnose her with anything, as she's never sought it out.

As someone who takes really strong meds, I'm a big advocate for them as I would be a manic mess. She'll come around, just wait haha.

My first Joel POV, I hope you like how I decided to write him. Also a little insight about what's going on in his own head about the reader.

Divider by the beautiful saradika

[hyperfixat]

refined this draft from febuwhump (forced to hurt a loved one) i posted it on ao3 a little bit ago but yeah here u go tumblr

lmk ur thoughts or go to my inbox w fic suggestions or wtvr

cw suicidal attempt (?)

satan, lucifer, mammon x reader (mc)

It's another one of Diavolo’s extravagant balls. It is the day you die.

You’re not scared. Well, not of death. You know the brothers care about you, deep down you know this. You're scared of how your death will affect them. You don’t know who you will have to take you, whoever is easiest to drag from the festivities, likely.

The music is lovely and Asmo’s beautifully manicured hand is clutching your arm and his eyes look so picturesque in the reflection of the thousands of yellow fairy lights magically strung throughout the castle’s ballroom.

Lucifer dismisses himself from your party to greet Diavolo, wings wide and blocking your view of the prince. It is probably for the best if you do not see him. Diavolo’s charm might sway your decision, and in the end you’ll regret not going through with this.

You know you will.

The air is stuffy and nerves lick at your spine when you detach from Asmo and innocuously scan the room for a brother looking uninterested in the dances.

Leviathan managed to sneak his handheld gaming device in, and is crouched in the corner, absorbed in his game. You consider approaching him, but Satan catches your eye through the crowd. The smirk that creeps over his face when you wave him over makes your heart skip a beat, and you already feel horrible about what you’re going to make him do.

“MC,” Satan takes hold of your hand and presses a soft kiss to the top of your hand, lips lingering a moment too long. “Care for a dance?”

“Actually.” You begin to sweat, your outfit feels all too tight as worry and remorse begins to take hold of your mind. “Could you join me in the garden for a bit?”

His eyebrows rise in mild surprise. “Oh? Of course, MC. I’d be glad to.”

You both take a glance around the room to be sure that Lucifer or Barbatos’ prying eyes aren’t making note of you two sneaking off. You lead him through the rose bushes and devillilly sprouts, past the pond where the firefish swim, all the way to a small cleared section of grassland that isn’t landscaped.

You barely take note of the way your eyes begin to bead with tears, but Satan does. When you face him, he frowns and lifts a hand to cup your face and wipe away your sadness.

“Satan, you know I love you, right?” You sniff. “And I’m sorry for making you do this, but,” your eyes prick with tears as you watch confusion settle on Satan’s face.

“Do what? MC, what are you…?” He’s cut short as you give your final pact command.

“Please be gentle with me.” You say it like a prayer, to the one who you’re letting end your fate. “Satan, I command you to kill me.” The words come out thick with tears and your throat is so tight Satan might not have to lay a finger on you lest you suffocate on your tears.

The air flickers with palpable tension, Satan’s demon form flicks out and he’s clenching his jaw hard. His whole body is vibrating and his hand flies from your face like you’re made of flame.

“MC, please revoke the command,” it leaves him choppy and strained. “Don’t make me….” Hurt, confusion, anger all bubble up inside Satan.

You fall to your knees as tears finally overflowing from your waterline, you’re hurting him.

A shadow looms over you and a trembling hand cups your jaw. His fingers are hot, much hotter than they normally are, you note.

You wonder how he’ll do it. Crush your skull in? Choke you? Break your vertebrae? Maybe he has poison fangs or something of the sort he’ll puncture you with?

“Mammon!” Satan shouts, but it cracks in volume. “MAMMON!” His eyes are staring at his hands in horror as they trace their way to wrap softly around your throat.

“BEELZEBUB!” A faux squeeze grips your airways for a moment before Satan is being pulled roughly off of you.

Your eyes fly open and Beel is physically restraining his older brother, who struggles weakly against the hold.

Mammon grabs you, and pulls you into his chest as he stands.

“MC, what’re you doing? Please, don’t let ‘im take you.” His face presses into your scalp as you ragdoll in his arms. “Please don’t.”

Satan makes a cacophony of snarls and wounded noises as Beelzebub continues to be an unmoving cage.

The noise has attracted the rest of the brothers to visit, unfortunately. Asmodeus is followed by Lucifer and Belphegor. The shaky cage of Mammon’s arms protects you from the worried gazes of the brothers.

“Lucifer, tell them to revoke the command,” Satan hisses out. He makes a particularly hard jerk in Beel’s arms and for a second Beelzebub wavers before regaining himself. “Get them to revoke it or get them away from me.”

“YN, what have you asked of him?” Lucifer strides over to you, kneeling in front of you. When you try to squirm away he reaches out for your jaw to force you to look at him.

A whine leaves you and you shake your head no.

“To kill them.” Satan chokes out.

The clearing falls silent save for your muffled hyperventilating tears. Mammon holds you tighter and the gaze of everyone is burning into you.

“Leviathan, Asmo, assist Beelzebub with getting Satan inside the Demon Lord’s Castle. Barbatos and Diavolo can handle him. Belphegor join them and please go grab some blankets from the castle. Mammon, let me see them please.”

The brothers follow Lucifer’s orders without complaint, save for Mammon who muffles a sob into your hair.

“Mammon.” Lucifer prompts and you sink further into Mammon’s hold. You hope Lucifer won’t be too angry with you. A cold, leather clad hand rests on the top of your head. It slides to cup your jaw and you inhale shakily as you allow your face to be lifted to meet Lucifer’s.

“I’m not disappointed in you. I am sorry that I hadn’t seen that anything was wrong. Please don’t go through such lengths to end your life again, little one. I… cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

Mammon’s grip on you tightens and he trembles around you. The intensity of Lucifer’s darling red eyes is making you squirm and you avert your gaze to a spot just beyond him.

“MC.” Lucifer calls your name again, and tries to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” it comes out raspy and so quiet that if he weren’t a demon he wouldn't have been able to hear you.

“You don’t need to apologize, my star.” Your eyes meet and your jaw trembles in his hand. Lucifer leans in and places a kiss on the crest of your head. The sound of leaves crunching under dress shoes makes you flinch and glare over in the direction it’s coming from.

Belphie is walking, faster than he ever does, to your little trio. His body is burdened with a huge stack of marvelous comforters. They’re hand sewn with intricate images and designs and thick as sin.

“Thank you, Belphegor.” Lucifer raises himself to snag one off the top of the pile and with a flourish, wraps it over you (and Mammon, still crying softly and clinging to your body).

“Are they… are they alright?” He sounds so unsure, so meek and out of character.

“They will be,” Lucifer affirms, looking deep into your eyes. He motions for Belphie to join him in front of you. “Let us sit for a while. I trust the others to let Satan return when it is safe.”

With the heat of the moment smoldering down and adrenaline leaving your body, your tired eyes grow heavy. The weight of Mammon and the blanket is soothing and you feel yourself subconsciously leaning forward towards Lucifer’s open chest.

“Come on, little one,” Lucifer’s voice is soft and comforting. Your eyes slip shut as he helps guide your head into his lap and against his stomach.

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter twenty two: For The Glory Of Merlin (22/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: The trollhunter team enters Merlin’s tomb. Y/n can’t keep her secret anymore.

Word count: 2883

Warnings: canon death/suicide, a drip of angst?

(Season 3 Episodes 7, 8)

Song?: American Teenager by Ethel Cain

Previous - Next

Masterlist

The trollhunter team entered Merlin’s tomb ready to face whatever was inside waiting for them. Y/n was ready to let them face the tests on their own. She trusted her friends, she trusted her father if this was meant to be then they didn’t need her.

She felt like a scientist observing her little mice, getting excited when Toby accidentally stepped on the right tile but frustrated when he didn’t realize what the bag was for. Luckily, Claire quickly sprung into action solving the puzzle in record time. Putting the bag on the tile, taking the room back in time, planting the seed next to the wall they needed to climb, going back and taking the room back to the present with a gigantic plant that they could climb to get to the other side, all in less than five minutes.

Y/n had to bite her cheek to stop a laugh from erupting from her chest. She imagined her father seeing this, seeing Claire demolish his ‘oh so clever trap’ in record time.

“Claire, you’re a genius”

“Good work, Claire”

The team praised as they climbed the root to the other room.

The second room was dark. Here there was no light shining through the outside.

“Ugh” Toby grunted. He had tripped on a rock “Wish we had a light”

“Oh, wait” Claire opened her backpack and pulled out a flashlight “I hate it when my parents are right” she moved the flashlight trying to get a sense of the room.

Claire’s light hit the wall, they returned a green light. The girl frowned, pointing her flashlight directly to the wall not moving it this time.

“Whoa” Toby gasped.

The walls illuminated revealing drawings along them.

Toby ran to observe the drawings from up close.

“Great Gorgus!” Exclaimed Blinky “This appears to be a depiction of history. A timeline”

“The staff of avalon” Jim pointed out.

Y/n got closer to the wall to observe the drawings. She saw Morgana standing proudly next to Merlin, it was back when she was his student, back when hope was still enough. She saw her father standing tall, serious, a little more hair than he had the last time she saw him and then, down to the left, she saw herself with her staff, she was still a child. It was an anomaly that a child had won their staff but she’s her father’s daughter.

She caressed the indentation in the wall, her posture may indicate determination but she was still a child with sad eyes. Y/n smiled, her sadness indicated one thing, that Douxie wasn’t living in the castle yet. Her determination was a facade for the kingdom to see. She wishes she could go back in time to say to herself ‘Hang on! A raven haired boy and his cat are going to come by and save you!’

Y/n’s reflection is cut short by Aaarrrgghh’s roar. She turns around and sees Angor Rot attack the troll with his dagger.

“Run for your life!” Blinky screamed at the trio.

The kids ran as fast as they could but Angor was mad, focused on killing them. He was able to catch up with them by climbing the wall. He jumped and grabbed Jim’s arms, both of them falling to the ground.

“Trollhunter!” Angor Rot squeezed his dagger.

Jim screamed when he saw the troll face from up close.

Aaarrrgghh hit the wall creating an avalanche of stones, giving Jim the possibility to escape from Angor Rot grasp and the trollhunter team to escape from the room.

“Ha! Oh!” Toby laughed before he tripped on something hard.

They turned around and Claire illuminated the floor. Draal’s arm was squeezed into a gate on the floor.

“Draal” Jim took the arm out activating the sharp blades of the trap.

“Is a dead end” Claire said as the blades spun threatening to tear them apart.

Angor Rot screamed as he escaped his tomb of stones, dagger in hand.

“Plan! Plan! Plan? Anyone? We need a plan!” Toby screamed, stretching his arms, trying to protect his friends behind him.

“Draal’s arm. Gunmar must’ve used it to halt the blades” said Blinky.

“Here goes something!” Jim pushed the bronze hand against the blades stopping the mechanism.

Angor Rot growled and charged like a mad bull.

“Go, go, go” Jim was the last to jump, taking Draal’s hand with him.

“I’ll kill you” the troll screamed.

“Jim!!” Toby screamed as he lost his balance on the white quartz he was standing on.

“Wingman!!” Aaarrrgghh ran behind him, jumping to the void and grabbing the quartz as he was able to catch Toby by his pants “Gotcha!”

“Toby!!” Y/n ran to the border and saw the troll balancing himself with one hand while with the other he was holding Toby as they hanged over nothingness.

“I never thought I’d enjoy a wedgie so much” Toby laughed.

Y/n chuckled in relief, walking back giving Aaarrrgghh and Toby space to climb back.

Outside of the cave, in the event of danger, she had her magic, she could always step up if the situation needed it but here, in the cave where no magic was allowed, the only thing she had was a dagger that was useless in this situation.

“Oh, Nana was right. Gonna need those extra undies” Toby panted, fixing his pants.

“Toby” Claire screamed as she threw herself in her arms.

Jim put his free hand on his shoulder with a smile.

Y/n ruffled his hair.

“By Deya’s grace. It appears we’re in the innermost sanctum. The heart of Merlin’s tomb” Blinky admired the infinity cave illuminated by white crystals.

“If this is the heart, I bet Merlin’s staff is somewhere close” said Jim.

Angor Rot’s screams and struggle to get through could still be heard in the distance.

“Draal can’t be far. Look for the staff, I’ll get him back” Jim continued.

“I’ll go with you” Y/n looked at Jim.

“Y/n, no”

“Listen, there’s not much time and you can’t really win me in stubbornness”

Toby nodded

“So I’m going with you. You have no excuse this time. No armor, no sword, no amulet”

Jim took a moment to observe her sister and frowned “Fine” Jim nodded.

“There’s only one way to go” said Blinky

“Down!” Completed Aaarrrgghh

The siblings started to climb down the never ending stairs of crystals in silence. Y/n walked a little behind Jim.

‘He has grown so much’ she thought as she observed the way he walked. The determination in his face, his baby face that couldn’t grow a beard yet ‘Young. Much too young’

She wondered what was with the world and the chosen ones. Why must they be that young? Was it absolutely necessary for the plan? Was the sacrifice of the youth an element so necessary that we must use it again, again and again?

She had lived almost nineteen years next to her father and had never come close to understanding the why of the youngness of the victors, of the saints, of the greats, of the trollhunter in this case. Nine thousand nineteen years walking this earth and still she can’t find an answer as to why a sixteen year old. Why her sixteen year old brother?

Guilt brews in her stomach. If she was able to face Morgana without folding to the memory of what once was maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

“Nothing yet over here” Jim screamed to his friends “This place feels like it goes on forever” he said lower.

“I know, right?” Y/n said, trying to swallow the guilt.

Jim kept walking, gaining distance from his sister. A big growl made Y/n run behind him.

“Guys, I found Draal!” Jim's scream resonated through the cave.

“Hurry! We should regroup” screamed back Blinky.

“Are you okay?!” Y/n screamed when she saw her brother laying down on the ground.

Draal sighed. He was already resigned to the uncomfortable position he was in, multiple crystals holding him in place.

“I’m alright!” Jim stood up and went to help Draal, Y/n right behind him.

“I made an oath to protect you. I have broken that oath. I remember attacking you. I have lost my honor, failed you all!” Draal said, clenching his fist.

“No. It’s not your fault. Gunmar forced you to do things you would never have done yourself. You were under his control” Jim helped the troll put his metal arm and looked him into the eyes “You’re not just my protector, Draal. You’re my friend” Jim hugged Draal, surprising the troll but he quickly reciprocated it.

Y/n looked up trying to give them some privacy.

“Where is it?” Gunmar's angry screams echoed through the cave.

“Gunmar” Y/n looked at Jim.

“We gotta beat him to the staff” Jim turned to Draal “Come on, Draal”

“By my father’s name, he will taste vengeance!” The troll chuckled.

The three of them started to climb down the crystals.

“I see it!” Claimed Jim.

Y/n looked down and saw the green glimmer of the staff of Avalon. The staff was embedded in a crystal cut in half. She took a deep breath. They were halfway through their trip.

“Gunmar’s almost got the staff” Jim said as he slid down to a place Y/n couldn’t follow.

“You get to the staff! I’ll take care of Gunmar” Draal turned his back, inviting Jim to climb in “Hang on, Trollhunter!” He screamed as he jumped to the crystal holding the staff.

“No” Y/n whispered, extending her hands as if she could stop them. She hanged there as she saw Draal pushing Gunmar out of the way so Jim could grab the staff of Avalon. She let go of the worry she had stuck in her lungs in the form of a chuckle when she saw Jim wielding the staff.

“Trollhunter” Angor Rot fell from the sky falling onto the crystal Jim was standing, the strength of the fall breaking it.

“Jim” Y/n screamed.

The trollhunter fell backwards with the crystal clinging to it only with one hand.

“Give me the staff, Trollhunter!” Gunmar jumped to the sinking crystal and tried to take the staff from him.

Jim jumped to the side but the movements of the crystal made him fall.

“Gatcha” Drall caught him by the feet and threw him back into action.

Y/n dug her nails into the crystal, she felt every piece dug into her skin but she couldn’t feel the pain. She couldn’t intervene. She couldn’t help. She felt the tears burning her face as she saw Gunmar clawing Draal’s chest, as she heard her brother plead for the life of his friend.

“We are too late. Gunmar has the staff!” Blinky gasps.

Y/n shakes her head, trying to concentrate back in the present. She let go of the crystal she was holding and jumped to the one her friends were in observing Gunmar stealing the staff.

The group gasped. Angor Rot jumped, magic dagger in hand, ready to stab Jim but Draal stood in the way, getting stabbed instead. Draal quickly grabbed Angor Rot in a chokehold, if he was going down he was going to take the evil that killed him with him.

“You would give your life for a human? Why?” Angor tried to escape Draal’s grip but it was impossible.

“Because he’s my friend!” Draal walked backwards and looked at Jim one last time “It has been my honor, fleshbag” he said before jumping.

“Draal” Jim screamed, running toward the edge where his friend had jumped. Blinky and Toby followed him and dragged him out of the collapsing crystal

“Draal” Jim kept calling.

Y/n held Jim into her arms and whispered into his brother’s hair “He’s gone, Jim, I’m sorry”

“And without the magic of the staff, the cave is collapsing” Blinky warned.

They looked up and saw Aaarrrgghh stopping a crystal big enough to smash all of them.

“Go” screamed the troll as he toasted the crystal into the abyss.

The team ran following the light of an exit that was crushed by a rock big enough that not even Aaarrrgghh could lift.

“Too big” Aaarrrgghh said as he pushed the boulder.

“It’s okay, wingman. You tried” consoled Toby.

“It’s hardly okay” Blinky pushed past Toby. Y/n doesn’t remember seeing him leave “We’re on the distinctly wrong side of the cavern’s collapse. Merlin’s tomb will now apparently become our own” he screamed as he pushed the rock.

The cavern’s growls became more intense, suddenly the crystal started to fall more strongly and frequently. The team ran to Aaarrrgghh looking for refuge.

Y/n closed her eyes trying not to laugh at the irony of dying at the hands of the contraption she builded. As if the world was answering her, the falling of rubble stopped.

“Or we could go that way. There’s an opening” Claire pointed out.

“Thus affording us the opportunity to be trapped somewhere else” complained Blinky.

“Or it’s a way out, huh?” Said Toby “You just gotta think positive”

“I’m not entirely sure I know how” explained Blinky as they started to walk the new path.

“We can tell” said Y/n.

The team kept walking, hiking the falling crystals.

“We need to find a way to go up” said Jim.

“Hmm. Right. Yeah, look for some stairs or better yet, an elevator” Toby laughed

Y/n laughed. She was glad for Toby’s humor right now because she had no idea where they were.

“That way!” Indicated Aaarrrgghh.

Everyone followed and Y/n wished she could live in a moment ago, when she was ignorant of where they were.

“Great Globus, it’s him” announced Blinky.

“Is it really?” Asked Claire

“Must be” said Aaarrrgghh

“Merlin” Jim named him and the stone from the amulet that he kept in his pocket started to shine. He took it out and walked towards the sleeping wizard.

Y/n started to walk backwards, trying to blend with the walls. A part of her wanted to run to her father’s arms, the other just wanted to disappear.

Two small lights jumped from the stone to Merlin’s eyes. Jim got closer, illuminating the wizard with the stone trying to observe him closer. Merlin’s eyes opened wide and took a deep breath, swallowing the spiderwebs. Jim screamed in terror.

Y/n put a hand in his mouth, trying to keep the laughter from coming out.

Jim stood up and observed in awe at the one dead wizard now having a coughing fit.

Merlin, now calm down, lay back down and looked to the side

“Are you the trollhunter?”

“Uh, uh” Jim couldn’t speak.

“I thought you’d be taller” Melin said.

Y/n started to bite her hand so she wouldn’t laugh.

“Yes, I expected much taller. And older” Merlin dusted his armor of “How old are you? Ten?

“Uh, sixteen?” Jim smiled.

“I guess I was only off by, mmm…” Merlin lay back down and started to do the math in his head “Six plus four, carry the one…fourteen years”

Y/n’s laughter died in her throat, her hands fell to her side ‘He wasn’t expecting a child?’

“Holy Merlin. It’s really you!” Toby screamed.

“Just what kind of troll are you?” Merlin looked at Toby up and down

“I’m not a troll! I’m a Toby”

“And who is this lovely creature?”

Claire chuckled.

Y/n smiled. She remembered being a child and her father playing pretend with her. Dancing around his office and all his introductions starting with “And who is this lovely creature?”

“Blinkous Galadrigal, at your ser…”

“Not you” Merlin stopped Blinky and turned back to Claire “You”

“Uh, Claire Nuñez, sir” she walked out from behind Blinky.

“A pleasure, my dear”

“Oh, she gets to be “my dear”” Toby turns to Y/n and rolls his eyes.

Y/n opens her eyes wide. She looks back at Merlin, but he was busy cracking every bone in his body. She sighed in relief.

“Okay, then, first things first” Merlin rubbed his hands “Why haven’t you greeted me?” He lifts his brow.

The team looked at each other in confusion.

Y/n pushed herself out of the wall

“I…I…” her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

“I can see you” Merlin insisted.

The team turned and looked at Y/n.

“I thought…you may want to meet the team first” her accent heavy on her tongue.

“Come to the light” the wizard ordered but his voice was soft.

Y/n looked at her friends' confused faces and looked down, walking the few steps that separated her from her father.

She saw her father’s beard contour in a smile that she mirrored.

“Hi” she whispered as she looked up to his blue eyes.

“I’ve been away for a long time” He grabs her by the shoulders “You really have grown, birdie” he whispers only for her to hear.

Y/n smiles and nods, trying to hold the tears in place. She imagined a thousand times having her father back in front of her, she never imagined her anger would melt.

“I have missed you, father” she smiles, taking one of his hands.

“Whaaaaat?” Toby says.

A/n: this is my version of Merlin and you are so not ready for it!!!

how many chapters do you think it’s going to take me to use drywall by paris paloma or tolerate it by taylor swift? 🤔 i have a whole daddy issues playlist dont tempt me to use more than one song

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 8

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

You dun know I gotta shout-out @morning-sun-brah for giving me the antiquing idea 💖

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

You: I need some kinda haunted object for my roommateiversary

Donatello: None of those things are real.

You: Yeah, but I bet you get what I’m talking about?

Donatello: Unfortunately, I somehow do.

You: So I was thinking about hitting some antique stores Saturday since the versary is Monday

Donatello: Considering those type of places close before the sun sets, I believe I can make time in my schedule.

You: Oh? I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask

Donatello: You can go alone then.

You: Wait!

You: Ugh

You: Keep your schedule open!

You:  You insult my sacred traditions and then get all huffy! I should be the one upset!

He left you on read and you smiled to yourself. Leaning back at your new desk, you picked up the container that held your repurposed leftovers for lunch. The last two weeks had condensed a transitionary period in every sense of the phrase. On the work side of things, your company had opted for a complete restructuring of your department. Between the loss of your boss and the poor quarterly report, it made sense. They had essentially dissolved your whole floor and done a musical chairs of shoving people into rolls that were similar, but had shiny new titles. Besides the predictable adjustment period, things settled down. It had given you time to process your feelings and your new boss was so laid back that you had only seen him a handful of times even with the upheaval going on.

With Donatello, it had been a completely different case. The rest of the farmer’s market trip had passed in a lighthearted manner and you had blushed at the way he’d squeezed your hand in a parting. It was such a small thing, but opening the door to those kind of small affections had appeared to release a dam full of pressure within the man. He still had those staunch undertones, but the texts from him that followed held that same airy quality. You only had instinct to go off of, but it felt like you had breached something beyond just lifting the weight off his shoulders. You had a feeling you had unlocked another door amongst many that guarded the inner castle walls of his heart. It was in riding that excited high that you took initiative in rescheduling the ill fated date.

The curse unfortunately prevailed as Donatello had swiftly declined within an vague explanation about a new enterprise. Whatever it was, he projected it would take a couple weeks and all his nights. Before you had even finished reading his text, he’d sent his availability for lunch. Besides booking him for that next day, you teased him over how a date could be a midday affair. He staunchly refused to entertain the notion. For all his quirks, his severity when it came to the ‘official’ act of a date was unmatched. That was, until he approached you with his scientific method.

-

Last Week

Ready for a some tasty thai, you were met instead with an especially starched Donatello. He only appeared to be missing a clipboard as he turned to you and launched into what you would only later realize was an observation. Having not even managed a greeting, you were so blindsided that you missed a large swath of the introduction and only caught on as to what was happening when he posed a question.

“What are my touch limitations?”

It almost seemed rhetorical as he then slipped right back into an endless drone. You followed meekly as you were lead to a table by an extremely confused waitress. As soon as he took his chair, he only addressed her long enough to request his plate before jumping right back into it. You were sure your face was somewhere between awe and dismay. Unable to form an apology, the woman thankfully took it all in stride and wrote his entry down on her pad. She then shared a sympathetic look with you as you simply pointed out what you wanted from the menu. Her pen bobbed along with her head before she disappeared and you tuned back to find Donatello combing through how the experiment would be conducted.

It wasn’t that you were bored, but he had done nothing to prepare you for whatever was happening. His language was far above your pay grade and, though you had been growing rapidly accustomed to his genius, he had never applied it in this way. He usually was more adept at dolling out fascinating tidbits when prodded. This version of him gave no mind to who his target audience was. You wondered on it as you gingerly sipped from a water glass. Surely he would understand if you didn’t retain all this information so you continued to half listen until his tone ramped up. Noting that he was leading up to something, you checked back in just in time.  

“Now, I am still doing minor tweaking, but I believe with these perimeters I can gather the most sufficient data.” He then placed his hand to the table. “First, I will be evaluating and recording each passing desire to touch you.”

Across from him you stopped where you were tracing condensation on your glass.

“Then, if you are so inclined, I would act on these while documenting my reactions.”

“Inclined…?” The word sounded foreign in a way that made you realize it was the first thing you had said all lunch.

“Yes, an offer would be extended and you would decide if it should be executed.”

“Oh…” You injected a downturned quality to your voice to hint at your confusion, but he moved on regardless.

“I believe imposing a maximum time limit to encounters would be advantageous in gathering as accurate of results as possible.” He then pushed up his sleeve to show a strange looking watch on his right wrist. “It’s arbitrary, but a minute should suffice.”

Sitting up, you tried to get a better look at the device, but he plowed forward in a way that allowed his coat to slide back into place.

“This and the following will be done for specific reasons which I will detail in a moment, but each graze must be followed by at least a 5 minute cool down period.”

He immediately dove into an explanation that involved heady psychological rationale followed by several citations of papers done on chemicals released by the brain when psychical contact is maintained. He talked about the scientists as if he knew them personally before casually dropping how he had a new full body monitoring system in place. You absolutely wanted to ask about that, but your food appeared you before you could get a chance. By the time you looked up, he was already describing the lengths he had gone to eliminate variables between polite bites and measured chews.

You could barely get your chopsticks to work.

The most disheartening thing was how many words he had spoken. Even if you narrowed it down to just the time since you had been served, he had said a collective more than the entire time you’d known him. In a small way you were pleased, he was obviously entirely invested and excited by this project. In another, you it felt like an exhaustive construct created to regain control. He’d regained some, but it clearly wasn’t enough. It made you wonder how long it had been since the last time he’d acted against his so-called will. Whatever it was must have been traumatizing for him to go to such lengths. It was as if he thought if he synthesized the sensations down enough, he could bottle them and store them away.

You just managed to grab the first of your glass noodles when he suddenly stopped. Following suit from the strange turn, you found him with a downcast gaze. His expression read little as he with his scientific mode was active, but the way he set his utensils aside spoke to the gravity of whatever was coming.

“I acknowledge that this is entirely selfish on my part.”

Setting your bite down, you watched him closely.

“It’s worse when you consider that you are the cause.” With a flick of his pupils, he seared a gaze into yours that spoke of a deep conscientiousness. “I do not mean this negatively and, for your part, I need you to be aware that you are in full control of this experiment.”

The emotional whip between dialog held your tongue.

“If you recall the second rule; all touches are to only be conducted under your clearance. I recognize that touch is of a reciprocatory nature and thus I even debated initiating second investigation that would have been from your perspective. I dispelled the notion quickly as it doesn’t appear to be something you struggle with. That being said, I felt compelled to consider an amicable trade-off.” He slowed and finally broke that burning eye contact to look off to the side. “You’re going out of your way for me and I would like to honor that.” His gaze swept back. “Therefore, after thorough contemplation, I’ve concluded that I only need a warning of your own needs to then prepare myself. I may still decline, but based on my experience and what you’ve said, that should be agreeable.”

Stunned in at least a dozen ways, you simply nodded in agreement and he resumed his talk by dipping into methodology. You picked at your food as he debated how to analyze the data and you got a to-go box while he mused about what conclusions he might pull. Exiting the restaurant and still wondering where all the time had gone, Donatello trailed off. You looked up with what you were sure was a helpless expression and heard him say something about an eyelash. Still trying to process information from at least 18 sentences ago, you tilted your head curiously.

His expression softened and he reached out to brush your cheek. Your brain shut down as he seemed to catch something with the tip of his finger and then trace along your bone structure until he skirted your jaw. As if activating a switch, your mouth fell open and the corner of his lip quirked into that near smile. Skin scorched from the line he had drawn, you felt as though your mind was treading water.

“I can assure you that the practice will not be as daunting as the explanation.” His hand retreated and he tucked it back into his person. “Take care getting back to work and I will text you.” With a civil nod, he then departed.

-

Present Day

Trickling out of the memory, you still scarcely recalled how you’d made it back that day. What you clearly remembered were highlights of the next three meetings. In a tight reel you watched all the times Donatello had peppered in small grazes. He’d been especially keen on touching your hands. True to his parting words, the experimental part of the exchange wasn’t something you saw. Surely he was logging a thousand things in his mind, but he did so without giving anything away on how it made him feel. You could only guess it had something to do with impartiality.

It left you, on the other hand, all the more flustered and completely unable to ask for any form reciprocation. It was all so new and exciting that you’d forget yourself. He already paid close attention to you, but now that you were a part of his study, it was as if you were the only thing that mattered. In paired with the little meaningful brushes in a way that sent you straight to Nirvana. Riding the joyous high was something you could have done for years to come save one glaring issue: whatever desire he had once had to kiss you had disappeared.

When you weren’t trying to emotionally recover from the way he’d thumb over your knuckles, you were keenly aware that he was still up to his usual slinky nature. He had no problem popping your personal space bubble at the slightest prodding. You could barely mention how good a meal was without him curling up beside you to see for himself. He’d joined you for a quick errand early this week and when you’d asked about which of a product was best, he’d quickly dropped his chin just shy of your shoulder to see from your perspective. The sudden intrusions of his face close to yours seemed to hold no larger meanings on his part, but for you they were everything. From the time since the experiment started, you felt as though you were barely surviving each encounter without pouncing on him. As excited you were for Saturday, you were just as worried. Though he hadn’t responded, you knew you were both on for the antique mall and it was bound to be a minefield.

You had spent a long time trying to sort out your feelings on the matter. You’d done ample research into touch adverse partners and applied reason every which way you could. What he currently offered sent your heart into a tizzy so it shouldn’t matter, but it did nothing to stop the loud voice in your head that screamed at him to finally seal his lips over yours. Scrubbing your face, you tried to blame it on the fact that you’d almost had a taste. In the same way he had, you needed to get it out of your system. The thought alone shot straight through your being and you cleared your mind along with your desk. Your half eaten lunch meant ravenous hunger later; for now you needed a good spreadsheet to sate yourself.

-

In what the ever growing weight in your chest knew was a cute show, he’d insisted on meeting you outside your apartment. You slipped out the door and tried to commit the memory of him at the foot of your stoop in daylight as a contrast to the soaked through stormy version you currently held.

He greeted you calmly and then backed up to make a show of the cab waiting at the street.

“Picking up where we left off?” You crooned as you skipped the steps down to him.

“Doing so would erase our last few encounters.” He moved towards the vehicle and opened the door for you.

“You’re being chivalrous today.” You chided and went to accept his offer.

He waited until you were passing him to respond by whispering in your ear. “I always am; you’re just too enamored to notice.”

You faltered on your descent into the taxi and scrambled to cover the move by quickly ducking to the far side of the backseat. Resisting the urge to go fetal in public, you opted for curling a fist against your abdomen to trap the dozen butterflies escaped there. Right out the gate he had initiated warfare.

It wasn’t clear he had any idea, but you could feel Donatello watching you.

“Where are we heading first?” You had to get another focal point going as soon as possible.

The cab rocked as he got in and closed the door. It then pulled from the curb in a show that he’d already informed the driver. “After considering the options you sent, I selected the most viable.”

“The second place, right?” The mild distraction acted as a balm for your achy heart.

He tipped his head in a sort of agreement.

“Did you figure out that work hiccup?”

“Negotiations are tedious. You can put forth the most thought into a plan and one greedy individual will spoil it.” The corner of his lips twitched and you realized you were staring at them with far too much intensity.

It had barely been five minutes and you were already losing the battle. “This one’s a long shot, but acquisitions?”

Instead of surprise, he took his time evaluating your guess. “Another facet one could say.” He then turned and gave you a pointed look. “I am my own boss, however.”

The cocky authority there was sure to be a put on, but you found yourself suddenly looking out the cab window. You could feel the artery in your throat pulsing and cursed yourself for falling victim to what was barely a joke. A chant of how you weren’t going to make it started up in the back of your mind and you almost wanted to call the whole meeting off. From where your hands had fallen into your lap, you squeezed them until nails bit into your palms. You needed to ground yourself. You tried to summon a semblance of logic to relieve you of your torment. You didn’t need a kiss to have him. Coming down the barest amount, you opened your lids from where they had screwed them shut.

You were still in the cab.

Donatello was still at your side.

Taking in more facts, you saw a something in the middle seat. Rotating your head just enough to glimpse it, you stared down at Donatello’s upward facing palm. His hand had been casually tossed in the gap while his head was thoroughly pushed toward the cab window. Instead of a verbal ask it was a physical offer. Gingerly lifting your hand, you made the slow trek and skimmed your index finger across one of his pads to make your presence known. He acknowledged it by flexing his fingers and you tucked your hand into the awaiting trap. It came up around yours before giving a reassuring squeeze. The move correlated directly with your ribcage. Your senses were flooded by a single word: comfort.

He had come so far from the thumb tap in the plaza.

As much as it pulled at your heart, you couldn’t help but think of how it all looked. From an outside perspective, you probably seemed upset or even ill. His staring made all the more sense. He’d put his faith into you to explain your situation if you wished. When you hadn’t, he’d reached out while still making sure to give you your distance by not addressing it further. It, paired with the earlier strain, created an odd vortex in the black hole that was now where your heart lay. Trying not to be swallowed whole, you picked up an approximate count of where the seconds were. A minute would soon pass and he’d let go. You’d come to learn just how much could happen in that short amount of time and tried to thin in out to appreciate it further.

Hitting 60 you loosened your hold to pull back. The cage of his fingers held strong and you jarred wondering how far off you’d been in your estimation. When more time passed and you were sure it’d been longer than the agreed amount, you gave his hand a little squeeze to translate the question. He responded with a pressure of his own. Still, his hand held firm.

Instead of the joy that should have held, guilt overwhelmed you. He was breaking his experiment for you. Knowing how much joy the process of it brought him crushed you. He had no idea what ridiculous reason you had for being distraught in the first place. If he knew you wondered if he would even have offered the anchor in the first place. Unsteady, you squeezed his hand with as much force as you could muster. He continued to refuse to look, but you could tell by the way his shoulders pinched that he was confused. He kept his hold steady all the way until the cabbie announced your destination.

Letting go only when he was forced to, Donatello paid the man and exited the taxi. He then waited with a breadth outside the door.  You slipped out and felt the way he waited for you to initiate the excursion. Finding distraction in the task at hand, you tightened your shoulders before relaxing them as a means to release the tension. Bouncing back, you look at your companion with a tepid determination. “Let’s find something that will totally freak her out. I’m talking something that will give her nightmares if she happens to look at it in the middle of the night!”

His gaze seemed dull for a moment and then a softness came to his stoic features. “You make bizarre connections.”

“It’s supposed to make life more interesting, right? Instead, there this normalcy that I can’t seem to outrun.” You bobbed slightly as you started the trek to the store front just down the sidewalk.

He made a sound that said he understood and fell beside you. You thought he might reach out again, but when he didn’t, you reminded yourself that he probably long filled his overall quota. It made a sad sense that had you picking up speed to get to the door before him. You slotted the handle and opened it with a feigned bow to cover your downtrodden mood.

He played into it by refusing to regard you as if he were a king and you a servant. Amused and distracted by the action, you followed behind him.

He stopped almost immediately as he was clearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of items packed into the single building. “We would cover more ground if we split up.”

“That’s true…” You held out the sentence as you marched straight towards the far left corner.

You could feel him trailing reluctantly.

“…Or we can make fun of this old stuff together?” You pointed at a sign where a ghostly man returned the gesture while touting his advertised beverage was good at any temperature.

Donatello reviewed the object with a bare grimace. “I refuse to believe that hot soda could have ever been refreshing.”

“Dark times.” You played along and moved along the display.

Donatello hovered close at first before catching on. He then made a show of pointing out a few withered objects of his own along with giving explanations of things you’d never seen before. Before you knew it, the two of you were going back and forth over which object would illicit the most fear. Around the halfway point you had a good showing between a doll with mismatched rolling eyes, a ceramic dog that seemed half melted, and a chick shaped egg timer with an especially foreboding stare. Donatello was in the middle of explaining an old plow part when you rounded a partition.

You caught eyes with something and stopped dead in your tracks. Behind you Donatello caught wind before slotting himself at your side. His chin hovered just above your shoulder in an attempt to see what had captivated you. You felt his lips move with a taunt before he caught it too.

Across from you both sat the oddest little astronaut man.

Bewitched, you walked out from Donatello’s hover. The little figure was nearly a foot tall and shaped with snowman type ovals. His suit plumped out around him and there was a display panel with a grey screen on his chest. His face was twisted up in a sort of horror and his little blue eyes were painted as if we were staring straight up. Part of the helmet carved into his cheeks and on his head sat an opaque metallic visor that shined in a rainbow of colors from the lights overhead.

“This is terrible…” You murmured with an odd glee. 

At some point, Donatello had joined you and was staring at the figure with kinked brow.

“This is it. This is definitely it.” Coming in close to the shelf it was on put you at eye level with the figure’s boots.

Donatello’s arm extended past you and lifted a little tag. “It’s 10 dollars.”

“A steal.” You quickly responded, already imaging the horror in your roommate’s face. You could feel his eye turn on you to evaluate the strange aura you were putting off. With no time to decipher it, you reached up to touch what was rapidly becoming relic in your mind and stopped short as you reviewed the blank display. “What do you think this was?”

“Let’s see.” From where he was catty-cornered against your left side, his arm came up again. This time its twin joined from the other side and you were finally broken free from the astronaut’s curse. Now ensnared by Donatello’s body, you took quick note of how no part of him actually touched you. He lifted the figure off the shelf and brought it down near your chest. He then rotated it to look underneath the astronaut’s boots and found a screwed panel there. “Hold this for a moment.”

You reached up dumbly and the figure was relinquished into your care. One of Donatello’s arms retracted and you listened as his coat rustled with movement. The length of it brushed your leg and you had to remind yourself it was an accident.

“Steady.” He spoke clearly, his head slotting beside yours. One of his arms then ducked down to hold the bottom of the astronaut while the other came up with a tiny screen driver.

You blood pressure was steadily climbing. “Where’d you get that?”

“I use it to tune my glasses.” He responded as if it were a simply fact of the world and managed to remove a screw. The hand underneath came up to pinch the tiny thing and he then addressed the second one.

“You never did explain those…” You had no idea what you were even remembering at this point.

“That’s true.” The phrase seemed absentminded as the other screw came loose. He then picked the latch and exposed a battery pack. “There’s no corrosion; that’s a good sign.”

He gave an interested hum and replaced the cover without putting the screws back in. He then pressed a finger to the figure in a way of having you turn it over. You got about halfway before he created a counter pressure to stop you.

“There’s a seam; we’ll have to wedge it open to see what’s inside.”

The part of your brain that had the worried response about breaking open an antique disintegrated as Donnie turned his head inward by a small degree. It meant his breath was just barely cascading across your cheek and the kissing urge not only resurfaced, it took hold of your mind.

“Hold it tight.”

You must have done what you were told because he was transfixed by whatever he was doing. You could scarcely hear the sound of the screwdriver against the odd material of the astronaut, but it was a white noise compared to your companion. Twisting incrementally from where he’d caged you, you stared openly at Donatello’s profile. He was focused on his work and didn’t seem to notice you’d been hypnotized for the second time that day. You traced the mask and caught the faint branching of a scar that seemed to extend out from where his ear would be.

Why had you never noticed that before?

Warning signals went off and you ignored them in favor of examining his eyes. You had done so a many number of times, but he always distracted the process with a litany of other micromovements. With his attention elsewhere, there were no such hindrances and studied how his lids moved. His brow came down in a lovely way as he worked and you could see the faintest shake of the digital display in his lenses. His snout shaped down to his lips which had the barest wrinkle of concentration. Your heart buoyed under a wave, dipping down and then shooting right back to the surface. His skin had a captivating hue to it and the texture of which seemed similar to his hand. Though his features were sharp, the plump of his cheek rippled as something gave him difficulty. You were moving before you could register what was happening.

It felt like your vision blurred and it did as you pressed your lips near the middle of his jaw bone. The action itself was chaste and rapid; it felt like a lightning strike as you tried to snap right back to where you had once been as if you hadn’t violated a very clear contract.

The reaction was immediate.

Donatello stopped what he was doing and his eyes widened before he caught the move by the throat. He then slowly rounded on you and you watched the synthetic veneer fall in place as he did. It was all encompassing and even if your usual observation skills were available, you knew there was no way you could have deciphered anything there. “What are you doing?”

It would be so easy to say ‘nothing.’

It was just two syllables.

You’d have taken anything, but your brain had sputtered to a halt.

“Y/N.” He pressed.

You could count the amount of times he had said your name on a single hand.

What a useless fact to remember during all this.

“Hey.” There was a scolding quality to his voice and for whatever hellish reason, he leaned in closer.

“I-”

“You?” His narrowed gaze said he was mad.

Of course he was.

It made complete sense.

You had basically stolen from him.

He also looked impossibly pretty.

You were leaning forward again and your whole body surged to give into the motion. You lips hit the corner of his mouth and your momentum pushed you up to properly seal his. You could acutely feel every single muscle underneath you as a frown formed there. A knife was plunged directly into the black hole in your chest and it somehow had the ability to pierce it. The gravity there further collapsed in on itself. It hadn’t been long enough to know if it this would be enough dash your desires, but you were sure you’d never try again. Crippled by defeat, you completed the pucker and began the reel yourself in from the catch.

A loud clatter sounded.

The noise couldn’t penetrate the darkness swallowing you up, but a flash of wet heat and pressure skidded the edges of your mind. You tipped backwards and felt the line snap taunt. Donatello shifted and you realized his lips were still against yours. Taking your turn at being unresponsive, he adjusted his hold on you and renewed the gesture for a second time. You attempted to return it in a pathetic showing and he squeezed all the more. Another thought clicked.

He was holding you.

It gave you enough strength to push into the kiss. He accepted it with a massage of his lips and from where you had solidified, you were rapidly shifting to a gelatinous. He broke free long enough to kiss you from another angle and this time you were able to meet him with a closer form to what would have been your usual zeal. Forgetting the signals, your hands disappeared into his coat and you flattened your palms into his sides. You could feel the edge of his shell and hooked your fingers into the first wedge point. Scalded, he adding another layer of fervor which you were finally able to drink in. His arms moved from a crushing hold to cradling the back of your neck as he made the position more comfortable. You stepped in, desperate for just a little more contact when your foot hit something. It made a noise and was enough to surface him specifically.

He pulled away and you felt like putty in his hands. He glanced down and you became keenly aware that you were panting due to lack of oxygen. Still feeling the weight on your lips, you licked them and watched his darkened gaze snap back to you. His face then twitched before the look disappeared.

“Y/N.”

You wanted to apologize, but nothing came out of your mouth past the last vestiges of haggard breaths.

“I’m not sure how you’ll take this.”

The collapsing sensation reared its head from where it lie in wait.

“The figure is broken.”

It seemed abated and you wondered for a moment what he meant.

“We dropped it.” One of the fingers curled around your skull tapped into your hair to get your attention.

You blinked rapidly trying to bring yourself up to speed. “We…” A laundry list of memories before the kiss came back and your eyes widened. “Oh crap.”

He nodded and made sure you were stable before releasing you. You immediately sank down into a squat to review the damage. He observed from overhead as the seam he had been slowly jimmying was essentially cracked from its fall. Picking up the two halves, you slowly rose. He made room and leaned in curiously.

“Well if I wasn’t buying it before…”

He reached out and used a finger to pick at the wires within the mostly empty figure. “It appears this was an alarm clock. I can get it operational if you’ll leave it with me.”

“Nah.” You shook your head and waited until he retracted to try to put the pieces together. With  needle thin fractures, the frame didn’t settle right. You were about to show it to Donatello, when caught a curious amount of surprise sitting openly on his face.

“You…” His head ducked down slightly into his neck as suspicion also flooded him. “… don’t want me fix it?”

“No.” You were pretty sure you’d been clear. “You can take a crack and humpty dumptying him? If it doesn’t work I’m just gonna duct tape it and that’ll be part of the charm.”

He carried his wary nature into taking the halves and pressing them together. Something snapped and for a moment both of you seemed prepared for the astronaut to crumble. Instead, something had connected and it now stood as one cohesive element again.

“You got it!” You took it from him where he was still put off and turned it figure over. “Now it kinda looks like something is trying to get out of his suit. Perfect!”

He remained quiet and you used the astronaut to gesture to the register.

“Ready?”

He nodded and surpassed you. Remembering what had just transpired, you held the figure close as you trailed behind. He was waiting by an elderly cashier who thankfully had no idea anything had happened. You paid, got a little satchel to easily carry the astronaut, and headed out onto the street with Donatello leading the entire time. Once you’d made it a few steps from the door, he steered off to the side and you followed. He’d at least given you enough time to prepare for what you assumed would be a hearty scolding.

“You aren’t going to change your mind?”

Looking to the side with a confused squint you turned it towards him to see he still held the mistrust in his shoulders. “About the clock? No, I honestly don’t care about that.” You tried to sweep your own worries away in favor of opening up your expression for him to search.

He did so immediately and scanned you for what felt like a lengthy amount of time. He then leaned back into a version of calm that held confused tinges as if it was something that had never happened before.

You wanted to press, but he seemed shaken enough.

“Alright.” There was a finality of his voice and he took on a perfected posture as a reprimanding teacher would.

You knew you hadn’t gotten off the hook. Shrinking down into yourself, you lowered your gaze in a way that made you feel very much like the student in your imagined scenario.

“How long?”

You didn’t bring your eye up and wondered how rhetorical he meant it. “I’m sorry…”

“How long have you been holding back?”

Eyes widening, you realized he hadn’t taken your apology the way you meant it. Still partially stuck in your imagination, you weren’t sure what he’d meant even though he’d already clarified. “What?”

He waited in silence.

You took a chance to look at him and he appeared even at first glance. As you searched his face there was a disconcerned quality to it that you couldn’t place.

“I don’t…?” You wished you had paid more attention.

He seemed put out and shifted his weight to one hip. “The kiss.”

He said it so casually that you felt the word fan the embers in your cheeks.

“You were possessed.”

The gust picked up so quickly that instead of spreading, it put the fire out completely.

“You’ve also been upset since we met which appears to be related when you account for your reaction when I didn’t immediately respond.”

The char felt like it was hollowing you out and you wished to simply turn to ash.

“I had no warning. How was I supposed to?”

The guilt poisoning you shifted with a sudden grief as you realized there was a chance he’d only kissed back to calm you down. Earlier models of him made that an impossibility, but after he’d broken his own rules to hold your hand in the cab, you weren’t so sure anymore. Your vision grew unsteady as your refusal to blink caused tears to thickly coat your eyes.

“What is going on with you?” He reached out a finger and pressed it to your forehead to get your attention. “Acting withheld, brooding, and I’ve seen that look before. You’re assuming the worst without discussion.”

His voice was thick with disappointment and did nothing to calm you.

“I’m sorry. I can’t-” You choked, finally allowing your lids to close and cutting off the chance at an overflow.

With your sight cut off you felt the way his finger pulled back before pushing into your forehead once again. “What can I do?”

You shook your head and took a tiny step back to get away from his touch.

“I don’t understand.” There was a grit to his voice.

“You don’t-” It was another false start and you winced at it before balling your fists to try again. “I asked for too much and now…”

You weren’t sure what to do.

If only you could give it voice.

“What have you asked for?”

You hadn’t; that was the problem.

“Didn’t we agree?”

“I took too much.” You clarified in a small voice.

“What?” The hoarse quality was one you finally categorized as growing distress. “Is this regarding the kiss?”

You forced out a nod.

“I returned it, did I not?”

“Exactly!” The force of the sound brought your eye up to him.

He met your declaration with utter confusion.

“Like in the cab…?” Your voice grew smaller with each passing word as the expression didn’t leave his face.

He seemed caught on a response until his brow wrinkled. A throaty hum of irritation came out of him and he closed his eyes as if it took great effort. When he brought them open, he made a stern face that barely masked an undercurrent of worry. With a careful show he brought both his hands up to your face. You flicked a wounded gaze from them to him. Slowly as if persuading a wild animal, he tucked his fingers around your neck while each thumb held your jaw. “I implore you to stop whatever is happening and explain why you’re upset.”

The deep ache swelled up until it reached your eyes. Your vision swirled and in it you saw a mix of troubled purple and green. A distant thought reminded you of his umbrella confession. It was enough to make you swallow the tears down in a great show of force. When you returned from the journey, you found him tracing a small circle along your jaw line. “I tried. I tried so hard to get past the kissing thing. I know you… had already moved past it, but I… couldn’t. I struggled and you’re always getting so damn close and teasing me and I like it. I do; it means so much that you would want to, but I wanted to do right by your experiment. It was getting harder and harder and when you purred in my ear before we got in the cab, I thought I was going to explode. Then you broke your rules to comfort me and while getting to hold your hand for so long was great, I felt terrible that I made you do it over something so…. So…”

His thumb stilled. At some point you narrowed in on his chest and couldn’t pull your gaze away.

“But I could distract myself. I’ve been doing a pretty good job of that, but there you were. Always so fucking close, right against me, but never quite there…” From where your features were pulled taunt, they relaxed as an upsetting realization came to you. “Kinda like how you are in general. Just outside my reach and I understand. We’re different and it’s neither of our faults, but still I lost control and-” You grimaced and wished to turn away but his hold was warm. “I pounced on you and, yes, you returned it, but it felt like… maybe it was for the wrong reasons. I don’t want you to do it just because you think you should or you’re trying to… I don’t know! Please me?”

You gave a little sigh. The heft of the weight hadn’t left, but it had been redistributed.

“I think…” As if scanning him for lint, you did a final sweep before allowing your gaze to raise back to him. “That’s everything?”

A stern look was waiting for you.

He was silent until it was near maddening and the only thing that kept you from giving in to the nervous energy was again his hold on your head.

Then he blinked and you realized he hadn’t in a long time. “We lose control in very different ways.”

You might have laughed at that being his first response, but you also weren’t sure how to take it.

“I believe a portion of blame falls on me. I have not been clear in sharing my results and the…” He looked away and the creasing of his lips made it seem like he was swallowing a sort of chuckle. “…evolving nature of the situation.”

You stared at him dully at first and then with growing suspicion. “Do you think this is funny?”

“A little bit, yes.” He allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up. “You continue to stubbornly care for me in a way that subverts my estimations every single time.”

Indignant, you pursed your lips.

The smile grew a little more than you had ever seen it and he dipped down. Using his hold to angle you he pressed a quick kiss into the pucker before retreating to his original position.

“You-” Staring wide, your mouth stepped in to fill the gap where your brain had left off. “Evolving nature?”

“I can’t imagine the sick clinging that some New Yorkers force others to look upon and I don’t believe my ascertains were wrong. I need notice, but I believe this study has revealed something very different from the hypothesis I posed.”

A tepid amusement continue to waft off him as you searched his face in an attempt to recall what exactly that was. “Your… limitations?”

His thumbs squeezed up making your cheeks squish.

“So is that a conclusion or something else?” You didn’t remember enough from your science classes to recall.

“You are an outlier.”

You knew a vague definition of the word, but the way he said it seemed to express it a way you weren’t sure of. “An outlier?”

His levity fell for just a moment. “I realize I never actually got you that book on statistics.” He clicked his tongue. “Two things in one day if we include the analysis of my glasses. I’ll be sure to rectify that.”

“Okay…?”

“Yes, well, it is a data point that significantly differs amongst others in observations.”

You managed a nod through his thumbs.

“I, for now, won’t get into the whys, but essentially, under certain conditions, it may be excluded from a data set.”

“You’re taking me out of the experiment?” The phrase got out of you before its meaning reached your ears. Fear sparked but a quick squeeze from Donatello smothered it.

“The opposite.” He leaned forward but stopped just shy of the point where he would have gone out of focus. “I was going to give it a few more tests to be sure, but I had come to realize the experiment didn’t serve you because of it.”

You had an idea of what he was getting at, but you were afraid to give it voice.

“You’re novel.” He swept his gaze over you in an appreciative way. “Not an error; this would be considered an exciting statistically possibility.”

You squirmed and reached up. He gave you a nod and you gently took hold of his wrists to stabilize yourself.

“I was distracted by the intrigue and did not voice this, but then, I was not alone. That brings me to your portion of the blame. You did not exercise your control over the experiment or voice your needs.”

“Can you blame me?” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yes. In fact, I am, right now.”

You tried to squeeze his arm, but he seemed unaffected. 

“Need I remind you…” He trailed off and straightened up out of your space in a way that caused you to let go. You thought of voicing your concern, but he continued to move. One of his hands left your neck and you lost track of it as the other slid around to the base of your skull. It’s grip squeezed tight suddenly and your body reacted by seizing into the spasm. His other arm reappeared to clasp your lower back and dip you back further. He then poured himself over you until he crushed his lips into yours. A meek sound squeaked in your throat as you gave in. He deepened the kiss until the point where your spine began to complain and then he pulled back to laud over you. “You’re the one that decides what you’ll offer. Otherwise, I will take until there is nothing left.”

He had a haunting looking in his eyes that glinted with an unfathomable greed and you saw the fringes of his retreat. Even though you had no leverage, he hadn’t captured your arms. You moved them as quickly as you could to catch him and tug him back. He was thrown off just enough that when you mashed your lips against his, you rocked into the movement enough to part them. You then slotted your tongue in the space, swiping it over his bottom to give him the option to break away if necessary. He chose to crush your body to his and when you licked into him, you found his tongue waiting. In a tangle you were both moving, desperately trying to get enough of the other.

He only allowed the intensity to go on for a few more moments before, in a maddening display of control that you were sure was just to show you what he was capable of, he pulled away. In contrast to how you were utterly wrecked, he released you and set himself as if nothing had even occurred. Hunched over in a way you imagined a goblin and with your hair surely messed beyond fixing without a brush, you tried to muster a glare at him but only succeeded in a drunken smile.

He was either immune to it or still gloating because he simply offered you his hand. “Want to go to those other stores?”

You took it and became aware you didn’t know where your purchase was. You found it by your feet and caught the handle of the bag. “Donatello doing something without purpose?”

He gave a mock sigh as if to mourn his past self.

“Yes, by the way.”

In a perfect rotation, he spun around and did a gentle tug to coax you along with him.

“Is that…” Your free hand trailed up to press the tender plump of your lip. “…something we do now?”

“Must you ask it like that?”

“I’m just trying to set my expectations.”

“It is available, yes.” He gave a huff.

“But not all the time.”

He passed you a narrowed gaze. “Insatiable.”

“No!” You pulled on your connection, but he kept it steadfast. “You said that thing about PDA!”

He seemed unconvinced. “If it can be avoided, I would prefer we do so. Otherwise, I urge you to check with me so I can both be ready and to avoid something like this happening again.”

You nodded thoughtfully and the reality of everything was awash in every inch of your skin.

“Six days.”

“Huh?”

“Our date will be in six days, next Friday. I will finish my business using any means necessary and, if you are available, I’d like to meet at least one more time before then to complete a those last few tests I mentioned.”

“I should check my calendar…” Pretending to think about it, you felt the way Donatello glared at you. “I guess I can make it.”

He was still displeased as he looked ahead. “Pencil me in as you see fit.” Disdain dripped from his words, but you caught something in the wording.

You stopped walking and he seemingly didn’t notice until the tether pulled taunt. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“You’re more excited about this than finally having your date?”

“Not mutually exclusive!” You joked.

He gave you a tug.

“Donnie.”

He didn’t stop, but his speed slowed slightly. “I reserve the right to veto.”

“That one?” You tried to glimpse his face, but he turned it away.

“I have not invoked anything as of yet.”

It was almost too much. The negative feelings from the start of the day no longer seemed real in comparison.

“I am curious about one thing you mentioned earlier.”

“Yeah?” You chirped, trying to resist the urge to swing your conjoined hands.

“You say I’ve been teasing you?”

You blinked. “Yeah…?”

He gave an affirmative noise and you looked up to find you could finally see his face. There was a cocky quality there as if he had been given something he shouldn’t be in possession of.

“Oh.” The syllable popped out of you audible.

“Good to know.” He cast that smug look down on you and ‘wicked’ no longer seemed severe enough to describe him.

NEXT

[tanya-ch]

Yandere Tatsuhiko Shibusawa

!You are an esper!

You were an esper who was trying to hide your gift, not knowing about the rats around you. And then Fyodor found out information about the gift of another esper, and kindly shared it with Shibusawa. At first he wanted to take your gift and replenish his monastery, more one ruby crystal. But, suddenly he began to think, you seemed to him something new, not just a speck in the mass of gifted ones, but like a breath of fresh air. And for this reason, he began to follow you, they say, suddenly he will change his mind again. You, having noticed whose then a piercing look, you couldn’t attribute it to paranoia, you definitely understood. Someone needs you, or rather, not you, but your ability. But who, who needs such a weak gift? Yes, you always considered it almost useless, because this is an ability she simply gave you wings, and they were always with you. Soft feathers, combined with a snow-white color, gave a bewitching effect on the soul. That’s all. But how wrong you were, because your ability still attracted the collector and was not at all for his mini temple of gifts. You learned about the wave of alleged suicides of espers in Yokohama very late. Since no one could inform you about it, because you did not work anywhere. And at that moment when you could only guess about who the collector was. He has already come up with a safe plan for you to move to him. Yes, he will definitely ask Dazai to take your gift while he can pose a threat to you. (He didn’t want you to die from your own gift)

But it happened so simply, the suicide bomber simply gained your trust, and then touched you, thereby using his ability. And after that, it won’t be difficult to move you somewhere.

You were simply knocked out, and you didn’t even have time to see the face of the person who did it. You woke up already on the floor, tied up and in some huge room with flying ruby crystals. They were all over the walls, and everyone was in their own cell. Having only managed to move a little, in the hope of freeing yourself from the binding ropes, you suddenly heard a man’s voice echoing through the empty castle.

-Oh, who woke up here, sorry for this situation, but I think you’ll be fine here too.

The male figure stood with his back to you, although even if you had seen him, you still would not have been able to recognize him.

-Who you are?

You shouted, but immediately calmed down, recognizing the familiar crystals. Although, you also only heard about them from some people.

-Oh yes, sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. *cough into fist* Tatsukiho Shibusawa, better known as a collector!

The man said proudly and turned to you. You, having understood exactly who it was, began to tremble, although you can understand, because being driven into a corner by a dragon is not very good.

Shibu, looking at you with the same ruby eyes that seemed to be blazing with fire, began to mercilessly walk towards you, despite your deep panic. Having already come close to you, he suddenly took you by the chin and looked straight into your eyes.

-You know t/i-sha (a diminutive form of the name) before, sitting within these walls, I was overcome by mortal melancholy and boredom, and now having learned about your existence, I was suddenly interested in you, and not your ability, surprisingly, don’t you think? , you probably won’t understand, but since I found out about you, my soul was filled with a strange feeling, whether it was strong excitement or not, perhaps even a slight anticipation. Perhaps people would call it “falling in love.”

Tatsukiho spoke with a calm and even thoughtful expression on his face. But abruptly lifting you from the floor by the hand, he hugged you, tightly squeezing his hands on your back, which was already covered in cold sweat. Your head was only at the level of his chest, which perfectly showed his superiority in growth.

-But, I think, as long as you are with me, I can still understand this intriguing and so desired feeling, I just want to have you completely, without giving even a thought about others. What do you think, little mouse, what kind of feeling is this?

Shibusawa said, now with a calm smile, stroking your back with one hand.

___________________________________________________

Result: 610 words, sorry if I wrote some points wrong, I have a terrible memory. There are also mistakes here, write if you see them.

My TGC-unfinished thoughts

Also, sorry for the English, I don’t speak it, I just translate it into Google

[abhainnwhump]

IMYM Chapter 29: For Our Future: Nightmare

(Content warnings: Domestic abuse, lab whump, brief mention of suicidal ideation. I feel like I should have this tagged as something else but I don't know what.)

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“I see . . .” Nightmare copied the address down from the letter in his hand. He spoke to no one but himself. He wrote a list with his quill pen. “Perfect.”

He finished the reservations for his and Ribbon’s wedding. The venue would take place at an old chapel in Mafiatale. He toured the place recently to make sure everything was as expected, and it was. Ribbon liked it too, though he liked anything he did. The list was almost complete. Outfits, reception, catering, cake, photographers, florists, the guests, the vows, and the honeymoon. He even hired extra guards. Nightmare didn’t want to risk his bride getting hurt or abducted. He couldn’t have anything go wrong on this day, his wedding needed to be perfect. Nightmare wasn’t interested in battle on his special day, especially for as much work as it was to set it up. Speaking of . . .

Nightmare looked around and tried to sense Ribbon’s aura. He couldn’t find him. Nightmare stood up and left his office. He couldn’t help his apprehensive building. The dark king walked until he felt a nervous aura. It was difficult to believe that wasn’t Ribbon. Not even Error’s uneasiness was this extreme and he had been torturing him for over two months.

He followed the aura until he walked to the entrance of the castle and opened one of the massive doors. Nightmare looked down. Ribbon sat on the front steps of the castle. His chin rested on his palm as he stared into the distance, ignoring his fiancé behind him. His aura was a mix of emotions, dominated by anxiety. His other hand played with the skirt of his dress.

Nightmare sat next to him. His tendril rested on his hand and squeezed and Ribbon jumped. Nightmare smiled. “It’s just me, no need to panic. Is something bothering you?”

Ribbon pulled his string and rubbed the charm. “Um, no. I’m okay, Nighty! I’m just a little sleepy . . .” Chuckling, he blushed and looked away. His permanent smile looked tense.

“No lying to me Ribbon, you know that’s against the rules. And did you forget I could read emotions? I know you are dim-witted, but you’re not that dim-witted.” Nightmare pulled Ribbon closer to him, pushing his head onto his shoulder. He put one finger on his chin and made him look up. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I don’t like seeing you this upset.”

Ribbon bit his lower jaw and looked up with his soft lilac eyes. “Promise you won’t get angry?”

“Depends if it will make me angry, I doubt it will.”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure . . .”

Nightmare sighed. “I promise I won’t be angry at you. Now tell me what’s bothering you. That’s an order.”

Ribbon rubbed his arms. “I’m scared. I have wedding jitters. I want to get married to you, I do! But I don’t know. Marriage is a big thing and before I met you, it’s something I never planned to do. What if I mess up? What if you don’t like me as your wife? You deserve a perfect wedding and if I start stumbling over the vows or trip in the aisle-”

Nightmare raised his right hand. He worried Ribbon wanted to back out, which if he did, Nightmare would never allow. His tendrils stroked Ribbon’s leg as he moved closer to him. “Ribbon, nervousness is a normal thing to feel and I’m not mad at you for it. If someone mocks you or hurts you, they’ll lose their hands. I know how shy you are, it’s one of the things I love about you. The only monster you will have to talk to is the officiator, you can stay silent for the whole reception. All you would have to do is smile and look adorable. And I have an exceptional plan for the honeymoon. But I won’t tell you, it’s a surprise.”

The doll beamed. Nightmare planned to take Ribbon on a week-long cruise. No stress, no work, just the two of them spending time with each other. He’d take a hiatus from his multiversal destruction. He looked forward to having Ribbon in general, it felt . . . special, important.

Nightmare caressed his face with his hand. “If it will ease your anxiety, remember that you don’t have to make any of the difficult choices. I will choose your wedding dress and veil, I will tell you what to say, and all you will need to do is listen. You made some excellent choices. I knew you would pick out something beautiful.”

“You thought it was beautiful? I- um, thank you! I don’t have many ideas right now, but I’ll think of something! I’ll make it pretty for you.” Ribbon nuzzled up to Nightmare. He held him close, rubbing his shoulder.

Nightmare took Ribbon’s hand and held it out in this. He touched his ring with his fingertips. Ribbon cuddled closer and Nightmare kissed his head.

“Have you thought about kids yet? I don’t mind them, I’ll . . . I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Nightmare pondered it. He hasn’t considered children. He practically had three with Killer, Horror, and Dust. He imagined Ribbon against an oak tree, laughing with a little skeleton. It would leave him with a true heir. As an immortal, Nightmare didn’t believe he would ever leave the throne. But the idea of having a successor, whether a prince or a princess, did interest him. It would make him look more powerful. “I would like a baby, at least one. It’s a simple spell, we have to combine our magic and willpower to summon a soul and take care of it. You would be an excellent mother, my little doll. A child of two guardians . . . it’s never been done before. Hm, creativity and negativity would be interesting concepts to mix . . .”

Ribbon’s aura darkened and his voice lightened. “Um . . . Nighmare? Do you have to be a guardian to be immortal?”

“No, but why do you ask? You are a guardian, albeit only partially. Unless . . .” Nightmare’s tendrils tensed up, curling. “Ribbon . . . what did you do? Tell me now.”

Ribbon rubbed his hands together. “Um . . . I was talking with Error again and he was nicer! He let me pet him! But he was also mad at me. Before you took him, uh, I broke this big sphere. It was like, six or seven months ago? Error said it would’ve my guardian powers in it and he couldn’t read the code in it.”

“I’m sorry, what did you do?”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry! It scared me! It made me think bad thoughts and I panicked! I didn't tell you because I was scared of punishment and I didn't realize it was that bad.”

Nightmare’s soul beat faster. If Ribbon destroyed his guardianship, that made him a mortal. His time was limited. Nightmare didn’t know how long that period was. The Lord of Negativity struck Ribbon across the face.

Ribbon rubbed his cheek. “You- you promised you wouldn’t be a- angry.”

“The promise was only about telling me your fears. I don’t count this as part of it.”

“But-”

“No buts, I don’t know what has gotten into you today. You hid crucial information from me, and now you’re talking back? You know how to be good, act like it. Do you realize you ruined my entire plan for us?”

Ribbon lowered his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You’re right, I should’ve told you. I was a stupid, stupid little doll. Please don’t call off the wedding!”

Nightmare tapped three fingers together and Ribbon switched to being on his knees. Nightmare couldn’t help but feel bad. The doll’s big teary eyes and trembling stance beneath him softened his soul. Nightmare pat him on the head with a tendril.

“I said nothing about calling off the wedding. You’re fine. But if you ever hide something like this again, I will punish you much harsher.”

Ribbon nodded quickly. “Thank you, Nighty. I'm sorry for making you mad . . ." He smiled up at him. “Can I go on a walk in the garden? Please?”

“Don’t get your dress dirty, don’t hurt yourself, and be back in an hour, no later.” Nightmare stood up. Ribbon’s reveal tore at him, no matter how much he tried to say otherwise. If it was anyone else, even another romantic partner, he wouldn’t care. No one would be or would ever be the same as Ribbon. A redrawing of someone else’s art would never be the same, and was often inferior. Nightmare considered all of this as he walked to his office. He sat down and set his head on his hands as he considered this.

Ribbon was running out of time.

The concept haunted Nightmare. The idea of his perfect, helpless partner dying within years while he lived for eternity. He had come to terms with it happening to the Murder Time Trio. As much as he cared for them, they were always mortal, they were always going to die. But Ribbon . . . he was supposed to be immortal like him. Nightmare imagined him having to hold Ribbon’s hand and watch him die.

The logical part of his mind understood he had little to fear. The doll body had to keep him alive longer, yet he was uncertain. The surgery was so experimental that he wasn’t sure if it could be out one day. Artificial body parts stopped working as soon as the person died, so Ribbon must be the same. Yet the paranoia wouldn’t fade. How long did Ribbon have to live? It could have been anywhere from days to decades. Nightmare clenched his fists. He despised not having an answer and he hated not having control.

Nightmare clutched his skull with his tightened fist and shook. The fuzzy feeling in his spine and soul became unbearable. His tendrils lashed out behind him, wrapping around whatever was close by. Sludge dripped and leaked down his body. His arms felt numb yet full of energy. Everything burned with the strange pain he couldn’t put a finger on. He couldn’t think. All he felt was pain and the burning need to protect.

“Boss?” Horror’s voice sounded farther away than it was. “I heard . . . something crash.”

Nightmare didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He looked down and realized he shattered his quill ink glass. Black liquid spread across the floor like the blood his torture victims would be drenched in. The same color as Ink’s blood.

Horror ended up checking the other side of the desk. He was at least a little surprised to see his boss so tense. He grabbed Nightmare’s shirt collar with his massive hand and pulled him up. It helped Nightmare snap out of his trance. “You . . . alright?”

Nightmare took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his head. “I’m- no, I’m not. Help me up and check my soul for signs of damage.”

Horror looked confused but followed the order. He lifted Nightmare with ease. “Uh, something’s wrong.”

Nightmare looked down at his black apple soul. An aura of pink magic floated around the apple. He knew what it meant, yet it's never happened before. If a soul overloads on emotion, it would begin to glow. Nightmare's soul burned with desire and euphoric love. Whatever these strange emotions were, it was all for Ribbon. It was killing him. A thought came to mind. Nightmare opened his top left drawer and removed a black compact. As he expected, he had heart-shaped eye light. His eye twitched as he thought about Ribbon.

Horror's breathing became more audible. “I’m . . . not that good with emotions but . . . I think you're overwhelmed, boss.”

Nightmare snapped the compact closed. “Elaborate.”

Horror took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I'm guessing . . . this is 'bout Ribbon. You're only like this . . . with him, whenever it's 'bout him. You . . love Ribbon. I don't know why . . . you're ticked, what he did, but . . . it's making you act weird. We did this for the . . . multiverse. We have to . . . stick to that first, we're close."

“Wait . . . that’s it,” Nightmare gasped, the pieces clicking together. A vision of Error flashed through his mind. “I’ll take advantage of what I have. Horror, keep Ribbon distracted for a few hours. He’s in the gardens, I’m assuming by the roses, he adores those. Play with him, understand?”

Horror looked confused and skeptical, but he obeyed his boss. As soon as he left. Nightmare wasted no time. He pictured the book page in his mind and went to the castle library.

Nightmare went to the spell book section and his tendrils pulled books off the shelves. He flipped through five texts at once, trying to find the right one. He read every spell book in this library, he knew it existed. It took several books before he found it. The book had no title, no author, only a caduceus with a skull on the top. Nightmare grinned, checking the table of contents before flipping to the correct spell. The one that would ensure his teddy bear would never die in his arms.

Seelen-Reset

This is one of the highest-risk and most difficult spells in this book, yet most effective. Only the most powerful souls can perform it. Seelen-Reset empties a soul and it’s memories, experiences, and any modifications. The only pieces will be core magic skills and remaining lifespan, including immortality. Unlike Memoria Alteration (see pg. 124), it overwrites a soul’s entire history instead of a single event. It is also far more dangerous; the spell has a 75:25 ratio of failure. The soul can be transferred to another body with this spell without the identity taking over. This spell can treat monsters with souls damaged beyond repair. However, it will cost the life of the former soul owner. Their body will melt and die. It is unknown if these monsters will reach the afterlife.

Seelen-Reset can be cast in two ways. The first is to use a verbal curse, the second is to create a tonic. The recipe is on the following page. The tonic works soonest when shot with a syringe to the soul, yet drinking it will also work. The injection takes three minutes to go into effect and drinking will take twenty. The verbal curse makes the removal less painful for the previous owner. Rather, the tonic is easier to create as long as you have the correct ingredients. The final step for either method is for the new user to wear a blood ruby.

Once cast, it is impossible to reverse. I have yet to find a remedy. The victim may become defensive as a part of their subconscious knows something is wrong. Other side effects may include headaches, fatigue, confusion, codependency, paranoia, and migraines. If the spell fails, the victim could experience paralysis, loss of cognitive skills, and madness. The key signs of failure are incoherent mumbling, glazed eyes, persistent confusion, and lack of response to stimuli. The only way to cure them is to dust them.

If the spell succeeds, give them time to adjust to their new soul and offer painkillers if necessary. Keep them away from stressful situations or bright lights to prevent more migraines. Hypnotherapy has also helped speed up the healing process.

To perform the verbal spell, follow the scribe below. To create the tonic, follow the recipe under it.

Nightmare had cast this spell only once, two hundred and eleven years ago. He attempted to use a soul to heal one of his allies. But his magic fell short and it cost him to go insane. The tonic recipe under the words seemed safer, he was only missing one ingredient, the blood ruby. He knew he could find those easily in Moltontale, they grew like dandelions if you knew where to look. Knowing this would protect his beloved Ribbon soothed the feeling in his soul.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Nightmare speed-walked to his office, analyzing the spell and planning the ingredients. His mind raced as he read and couldn’t help but read some of the others. Due to Ribbon’s help in corrupting AUs, he grew twice as powerful as he was without him. Another reason he must keep him safe and close.

Nightmare entered the medical room and stepped into a smaller space. Dust enjoyed working in this section; it was full of magic plants and chemicals. Dozens of AUs made up the collection. Nightmare laid the spell book down and pulled out a beaker. He filled it up with hot water and gathered the needed ingredients.

Glancing out the window, Horror, Killer, and Ribbon walked through the garden. Nightmare pressed his mouth into a hard line. He knew he shouldn't feel jealous over such a frivolous thing, Ribbon loved him and only him. But the way Ribbon smiled and awed when Killer put on his theatrics . . . Nightmare's mind spiraled, twisting deeper into the dark abyss it already was. Ribbon belonged to him, not them.

Once he finished the potion, he needed to choose a soul to take. Obviously, he would take Error's. His soul was the safest and most stable out of the three guardians remaining. Core's soul was scattered across space and time. Nightmare couldn't even infect it with his parasite, his magic needed a soul to latch onto. Dream's soul was the highest quality, but it meant Ribbon would always suffer. It wasn't worth giving up the multiversal control for something like this. Error's soul was a glitching mess, but he knew the glitches would lighten when he was injected.

In any other circumstance, he would be against sacrificing Error. He was a powerful ally who served him through times of need, even if he was never on his team. But Error betrayed him the moment he tried to steal his doll.He deserved his death. Nightmare picked the petals off a dried eclipse rose.It was a rare plant but now was a worthy use. Ribbon's life was almost worth the multiverse.

Nightmare paused as he regarded it. What if the tonic failed and it drove Ribbon insane? Nightmare's hands switched to fists and he smiled. He could always retrain Ribbon. Yes, he could go through the conditioning process all over again. It didn't matter if the doll was in pain as long as he was the one doing it. It meant he had the power. All Nightmare cared about was having Ribbon alive and having him here, no matter the risk.

Nightmare had his attention only focused on the potion. However, he did spot Dust from the corner of his eye light, wrapping his palm with bandages. Nightmare considered if he should hide this, but he decided against this. One of them would have to wonder where such a crucial soul like Error went to. He forced himself to calm down. “Dust, is there something you need?”

The murderer jumped and looked into the room. It was lit by nothing but Nightmare's eye light and a single candle. “Yeah . . . I was gettin’ some rubbin’ alcohol and bandages because I sliced my hand open. I got a knife through it. What are you makin'?”

“Something for Ribbon. He lied to me, so I'm going to fix him."

“Boss . . . he can't get sick.” Dust hovered the book over with his telekinesis. "Forbidden magic, why am I not surprised this is for Ribbon."

“It's necessary. I would appreciate your help. I need you to measure and cut the rest of those plants. If he does, then I will deal with him.”

Dust read it over and looked at Nightmare from the corner of his gaze. "Oh."

Nightmare expected Dust to argue or call him insane, but he went along with it. It wasn't the most illegal experiment he had ever done on Ribbon. Nightmare remembered how he first discovered Dust's passion for science and experiments. Only three weeks after he brought him to the castle, Nightmare caught Dust tinkering with beakers. The murderer revealed he was making poisonous bullets for his pistols. Nightmare believed it to be ludicrous. But to his surprise, they worked on his targets, and quite well. He assumed Dust learned from the years he spent alone in his AU. His silent nature was also appreciated. Nightmare was proud of Dust. Someone who once wanted to throw himself off a cliff changed into one of his most useful servants. Ribbon never would be who he is if it wasn't for him.

When the final leaf was added, the tonic bubbled and glowed with red and white streaks. Nightmare switched the liquid into a syringe, pattting Dust on the shoulder with his tendril. Dust sighed. "Thank you for your help, Dust. But I will need to do this last part alone. I need to think."

"I saw that part on the bottom, I know. Fine. I'm staying here so I can finish what I started." Dust said. He picked up his bandages and finished wrapping his half-healed hand. Nightmare ignored him. He picked up the syringe in one tendril and the spell book in another. Nightmare's head pounded. He almost shattered the tonic from sheer strength and emotion. He feared his death if he waited too long. All he wanted now was a damn answer to Ribbon's lifespan question.

Nightmare only had one piece left of the spell to complete, then he could inject Error. He focused his energy on the syringe and summoned magic from the pits of his black soul. His fingertips glowed dark gray with streaks of blue. Streaks of pink mixed in and shot his finger toward the syringe.

The magic flowed from both hands with ease. The tonic glowed a bright blue and Nightmare could’ve sworn he heard a crash of lightning, despite the lack of rain. The light faded until the syringe was its normal color. Only the touch was an obvious change; it was far colder.

Nightmare clutched his chest in pain. His soul beat faster; the pink aura glowed brighter. The complicated spell drained his energy. His eye socket fluttered and he fell unconscious on the office floor.

==============================================================================

“Nightlight? Are you okay? Please be okay . . .”

Nightmare opened his eye, looking around his bedroom. His coat and shoes were missing and he was tucked under the covers. Ribbon looked down at him with a worried expression, which was adorable with his frozen smile. Nightmare sat up. “Ah, Ribbon. Yes, I’m okay. Could you tell me what happened? I’m afraid it’s a blur.”

Ribbon lay against him and nuzzled by his side. “I went to check on you a few hours ago to see if you were still mad because you were in there for a while. I walked into your office and you fainted on the floor! I used some of my paint to help carry you here, I'm too weak to carry you. You also had a book half-opened on the ground so I put it back on your desk. Oh! And I made you some tea. Lavender is your favorite, right?”

“Right.” Relieved Ribbon couldn’t read, Nightmare lifted the cup from the nightstand and took a sip. He gave him a head pat. “A tad lukewarm, but it tastes perfect. Thank you.”

Ribbon sighed in relief. His ring glinted as he wiped his porcelain cheek. Nightmare touched that hand, giving it a light squeeze. He looked up at him. His face had sparkling pieces of dried resin, his tears.

“Have you been crying?”

Ribbon looked ashamed. “I . . . I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up. I tried shaking you and calling your name but it didn’t work! You were barely breathing and were dripping a lot of goop.”

“Aw, my little lamb. Come here.” Nightmare opened his arms and Ribbon crawled in. He rested his skull on his chest. Nightmare scratched where his ear would be, listening to the clockwork in his head. A steady creaking. It didn’t matter if he overreacted, the curse was already cast. Ribbon wouldn't die unless Nightmare gave the command, which would never happen.

Ribbon relaxed and peeked up at the Lord of Negativity. “Are you still mad at me for lying?”

“No, I'm not. I found a solution to your mistake. I'll tell you when the time is ready." He traced a finger down his chin. "You would never try to leave me correct? Leave me for . . . someone else?"

Ribbon shook his head. “I'd never leave you! Where else would I go? I'm too dumb and weak to survive on my own and most of the multiverse wants me dead. I need you!" He clung to Nightmare's arm.

Nightmare kissed him on the skull again. Nightmare tapped his fingers together and Ribbon went limp. He set him on the bed and cuddled him, taking in every part of his body. His tendrils tickled his neck and Ribbon burst into giggles. Nightmare smiled. His happiness was the only positivity he could tolerate. No, not just tolerate. Adore. Crave. He couldn’t get enough of the strange feelings Ribbon gave him. It made him feel fulfilled and happy, more than any amount of negativity could give him. He couldn’t imagine living without it.

Holding Ribbon relieved the aches and pains in his soul. He was here and no one could lay their hands on him. Dream couldn’t lay his hands on him. No one would take his source of positivity away. Not even death.

Nightmare stopped cuddling him and sat up, still holding Ribbon in his arms. He stood up and helped him off the bed. "Come on, let's fetch the Murder Time trio. I have a mission we need to begin."

"Ooh, a mission? Okay!" Ribbon bounced. "I'll grab Blossom!"

================================================================================================

Moltontale was a difficult AU to traverse and take over. The ground was made of scorching rock and obsidian. The monsters were all made of fire or fire-proof flesh. Gaster Blasters were useless here, the hot magic beams were useless.

Nightmare stormed through Moltontale, spreading negativity and corruption wherever he stepped. He used his tendrils to move faster, gliding across the hot terrain. One of the tendrils carried Ribbon, Nightmare refused to let him be on his own. Killer, Horror, and Dust fought and murdered.

Nightmare searched one of the massive caves he found. Ribbon looked around from the tendril he stayed in. The rubies had a distinct glow that was almost pink. Ribbon helped look around, narrowing his eyes to see better. Nightmare ended up staring at him longer than he searched for the rubies. This would be Ribbon's final mission, he couldn't put him in more danger or risk. He would always stay inside the castle unless Nightmare needed him for business or singing.

Bright orange lava lit up the pure black caves. Nightmare took advantage of the light to find the gems. Ribbon began to squirm in his tendrils and pointed to the left. "Night! Is that what you're looking for?"

Nightmare turned around and spotted the gems. He was tied up in a snowbank and shivering in thin clothes. Nightmare pulled a small chisel from his coat pocket and stabbed it into the rocks. The gem gleamed with the same color as fresh blood, hence the name.

The lava began to turn into a mix of black, teal, and purple malice. The air turned colder, the negative aura of the AU grew. Nightmare let Ribbon go. Ribbon looked at the gem in awe. "Ooh, it's so pretty! What is this for anyways?"

"It's for you, my sweet little doll. I have it all under control." Nightmare's eye glinted with a mad light. All he needed now was to inject Error and everything would be according to plan.

[sciencelings-writes]

The Fable of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Day 4 of Zelink Week: hosted by @zelinkcommunity

Prompt: Hand in Hand

WC: 4003

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48558865

Summary:  In Chinese culture, the dragon is a symbol of divinity, power, and royalty, they are immortal creatures with the natural forces of the earth at the tips of their claws, the phoenix is a symbol of transformation and rebirth, the beautiful rulers of the skies, the majestic weaver of flames. Together they are the perfect symbol of lovers, together they are balanced and whole.

or

Zelda makes an eternal choice and Link learns to rise from the ashes.

Link dreamt of death. For a century he had experienced the relief it provided, the reprieve from the fear and the stress that was so intertwined with his life that not even sleep could shield him from the experience. Every waking moment was spent chasing visions and killing monsters, every moment he managed to sleep was filled with nightmares of fiery eyes and a world covered in blood.

He wanted to blame the gloom clinging to his veins, ever since his body was corrupted he had been consumed with an emptiness that could only be compared to a freezing-cold depression that no fire could thaw. But the same moment had also been the one that he failed to save Zelda. Whatever the cause, they had a similar compounding effect. One that sent him spiraling down a familiar path. 

Spiraling like the beach, whose center held the final tear that he had been dreading to collect. Though he knew the vision he would be given would not be kind, he scrambled to the location the moment it had been revealed to him. He was desperate to see a glimpse of her, one that wasn’t an illusion made to take advantage of his love for her. 

There was no use running now, the constant allure of adventure had died in its tracks. What was the purpose of visiting shrines and exploring caves when the one thing he wanted to save was already lost? How could he even consider continuing his search when it was uncountable thousands of years too late?

Link’s mind numbly acknowledged his knees hitting the sand. The white, nearly blue glow illuminated his loose hair that fell free in front of his eyes as his head hung low, fixating on one of the many flowers that had appeared in front of him. His name being among her last echoed so loudly in his ears that he was surprised he could hear anything else.

He had cautiously hoped that the worst-case scenario would be that she would be unable to escape the past, but would still be able to live a long happy life, even if he would never get to see her again. She deserved that much, after everything that she’s been through. He never imagined that he would witness her functionally commit suicide only for a sword. To win a fight he couldn’t even bring himself to care about.

Would beating the demon king fix anything? Would it miraculously bring her back? Would a single thing that he has lost be returned to him? Would he ever be free of this curse? It was too much to hope, wasn’t it. That the death of one man held the key to turning everything back to how it was. 

Even with Ganondorf dead, what would be left? Zelda would still be gone, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand the countless reminders of her influence across the kingdom. She was so known and so loved and he had been so happy to simply be referred to as hers. Wherever she wandered, he had always been by her side, to the point that seeing them separated was nearly unheard of. The most frequently asked questions ever since he had emerged from the castle’s crater were always ‘Where’s Zelda? Why isn’t she with you?’  

Before he knew it, his cheeks were wet and his eyes burned so badly that he had to squeeze them shut. His chest spasmed as sobs clawed their way to the surface, strong enough that he didn’t even attempt to hold them all back. His tears dripped off his chin into the basin that seemed to be created just for that purpose. 

For once, the control of his emotions slipped through his fingers without trying to stop it, he had held strong for so long to reassure everyone else that he would get their princess back, and everyone was convinced that he could do it. There wasn’t really anyone left that he felt like he could express himself with, whether that be because he didn’t want to be a burden to them or he just wasn’t close enough to them to be comfortable with it. 

He had so many people on his side, cheering for him from the sidelines, but not a single one deserved to have to deal with him like this. A perfect swordsman now crumpled on the ground in a puddle of pitiful tears. 

Sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t what everyone said he was. The valiant hero who defeated the calamity, as if he didn’t nearly die again a hundred more times just to get to the point where he could approach a guardian without his sword arm shaking from sheer terror. Some hero he was, he could never save what mattered the most to him. 

A thunderous roar interrupted his thoughts, sending waves of force crashing into him purely from the sound of it. The water around him rippled from the vibrations and the loose sand blew in clouds away from the sound's origin. 

Link’s head whipped upwards towards it, and he saw her, or what remained of her. Her scales shined gold and iridescent in the afternoon sun and even in the bright daylight she clearly glowed with a divine power he had only been blessed enough to witness a few times. She was still so beautiful, but he far preferred her in pants stained by grass and ink, with a smile that burned brighter than whatever magic she had sacrificed herself for. 

A rock conveniently plummeted down between him and the one he had been searching for since she fell. He had started running at it before it had even landed. He desperately needed to get up to her, he nearly tripped face-first into the water as he scrambled to his magic elevator. He ignored a cut he got from the stone as he tried to climb to the top of it as furiously as he could.  

Link was rarely impatient, but the boulder rose from the sky far too slowly. He itched to throw himself at her but he knew if he lept prematurely he wouldn’t be able to make it. So he waited, tapping his foot at a speed that resembled the beat of a hummingbird's wings. Finally, he launched himself into the air and flew onto her back. 

He could immediately feel the power radiating off of her, it was a warm and intensely comforting energy that wrapped itself around him like a blanket. For now, the agony of what happened to her seemed to diminish, though not totally, and not forever. 

His boots thumped quickly against her scales as he made his way to her head. Even his natural inclination to get distracted by the fragmented pieces of her spikes, which if she were any other dragon, he wouldn’t even hesitate to collect. He didn’t even wonder what they would do, all he could think about was getting to her face. 

Maybe he could still fix this. Maybe he could wake her up. Maybe she would recognize him. Maybe it wasn’t too late. 

He climbed through her mane of golden hair and passed by the master sword fused with her forehead without a single thought, he already began to lose the tiny drops of hope he had managed to come up with as she didn’t even notice him standing right on her nose. 

“Zelda? Hey Princess, can you hear me?” He asked after clearing his throat from the thick feeling coating it. He pushed through how it burned from his grief, and forced a pleasant tone of voice, as if this day of chasing her tears weren’t the worst day of his life, even surpassing the day the calamity rose or the one where he died. 

Her ear didn’t even twitch, her eyes continued to dart around the empty sky, focusing on nothing in particular. She did nothing to acknowledge that Link was standing on her nose, that there was anything different about her life at all. 

“It’s okay,” he lied, “I’m sorry it took so long, I need to stop making you wait for me.” His hastily placed mask of pleasantness was quickly crumbling, as he was already unable to stop the stuttering gasps one has before breaking into sobs. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I didn’t catch you,” He sniffled, “I wish I didn’t send you the sword, I wish you could’ve lived, I bet you were having a blast watching history unfold before your eyes. I bet it was cool to see everything before all that was left was ruins. I bet you got everyone to love you back then too.” 

When there was no response, Link found himself sitting on her snout, straddling it like it was the back of a horse. His head low from the weight of everything until it met the short fur between her eyes. He had already cried so many tears, yet more kept coming. He never seemed to run dry. 

“I love you, I know I haven’t been able to put it into words, but I hope you knew. I hope you could tell. I’m sorry I didn’t say it when you could remember me. If- when I fix this, that’s the first thing I’ll tell you. You deserve to hear it even if I have been too much of a coward to say it before it was too late.” The ache became too much and what weight he was sustaining with his arms sent him collapsing into her. He instinctually folded his arms to shield his face from the rest of the world. 

“I love you when you’re a scientist and you cover our walls in diagrams and notes and you can’t stop talking about whatever is interesting you that day, I love you when you’re teaching the kids and you struggle to simplify complex concepts and end up teaching them about theoretical physics derived from sheikah technology, I love you when you’re gardening and you braid the flowers you had to prune in my hair because you hate just leaving them in a vase. I love you when you decided to reclaim the throne even though it was hard and it scared you, I love that you love your kingdom more than they could ever realize, I love that you can get anyone you meet to love you.”

“I even love you like this, because I know that there's still a little bit left of you in there, even though you’re not rambling about the latest book you’ve read or about how your flower hybrids are coming along, I can feel you in there. You’re still the light that freed me from death and I still feel that light now.”

Link wasn’t sure that he could turn her back, all that he knew about draconification was that it was permanent. People far smarter than he was had likely studied it so many thousands of years ago and banned it for how it destroyed one's mind. It was impossible to say if there even was a way to reverse it, even if there was, any scraps of information that they’d find about the forbidden magic were unlikely to include a cure. It seemed like even Minaru had been convinced that there was no way to undo what had been done. 

He would try, of course, he would try, but even now he was already mourning a failure. He would try, he planned to search the depths and dig for any stone tablet that mentioned dragons on it, but he was almost sure that it wouldn’t be enough. He was pretty good at doing the impossible, but this was a curse from a people that had gone extinct so long ago, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t just be able to hold up his hand and ask Rauru about it. The world was never that kind to him. 

Link didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard a different sound ring in his ears. It was the metallic song of an object he had started this tragedy by neglecting. The sword was the thing that tied them together, whose broken state was ultimately the reason Zelda chose to sacrifice everything. 

For a moment, he despised it with all of his being. From the moment he had been led to pick up the holy blade, his life had been set on a path of misery. Its consequences broke him beyond what any blessed magic could fix. It stole his voice and stole his life and stole his memories and stole countless lives of people he was born to protect, and worst of all, it stole her. It stole the years of life she had left and convinced her to curse herself eternally. Just so a stupid sword could make itself strong enough to kill a stupid guy who killed simply for the promise of power. 

It wasn’t the sword's fault it broke, it wasn’t the sword's fault that he was chosen to bear its burden. He had someone with more reason to be angry at, and directing it at a soulless blade was a waste of the burning rage that suddenly coursed through his veins. 

When he finally stood, he looked towards the tendrils of scarlet that surrounded the castle. Horrors left behind by a vile creature who believed he could conquer the world and mold it to his own desires. 

The Calamity had felt more like a divine force, a scourge of nature with motives far bigger than what could be understood by the likes of the mortals that lived above it. Ganondorf was far simpler. As many times he hailed himself a king or a god, it did nothing to change the fact that he was just a man. 

Link had been through things far more terrifying than a mummy with a craving for power. Though neither the calamity nor the experience of death had been as malicious towards him specifically, neither of them toyed with him by parading the ghost of the princess he was chasing or puppeted her around when he was so desperate to find her. Neither of them spoke with her voice to get him to abandon all reason to distract him. 

However, not one single part of that scared him. None of that compared to how quickly the castle and its adjacent town were consumed in smoke, or how one by one the divine beasts glowed magenta, turning into moving sepulchers before his eyes. None of that could be compared to running for their lives away from the beast they were born to defeat, or realizing when one injury would be the last one he could take. Ganondorf’s ploy was nothing compared to waking up alone with nothing but a name and having to take on a broken world he knew he had failed. 

Link knew fear, and there wasn’t a trace of it when he thought of the so-called ‘demon king.’

His hand wrapped around the hilt of the Master Sword, it was so familiar, so reliable, so filled with golden light that it felt more like Zelda than whatever it had been before. Just like he had done so many times before, he pulled. 

What wasn’t like every other time he had released the sword from its pedestal, was the reaction of the ground beneath his feet and the horrible roar she bellowed. His immediate thought was that he had to let go, he was hurting her, how could he hold on when he was hurting her! He forced his grip to stay steady as a violent whip of her head knocked him off his feet.  

He clenched his teeth together as she screamed in agony, the pit in his stomach grew even as he found his footing again and continued to force the blade from its home of ten thousand years. He never wanted to hurt her, he couldn’t imagine even trying to justify it, but he had to get his sword back or her entire sacrifice would’ve been a waste. 

For several minutes, the sword was nothing more than a handle for him to grab so he wouldn’t be flung off into the sky, he was rarely ever balanced enough to truly pull it like he was meant to. All the while his ears were filled with her deep sirens of pain that he was directly responsible for, and the deafening wind that tore into him physically just as deeply as Zelda’s screams did psychologically. 

All at once, the chaos stopped. The light dragon's shrieks grew silent and the force trying to divide them vanished as she led them up into the sky above the clouds. Up there the whole world was golden, with sparking rays of sunlight glowing on the fluffy layer that separated them from the kingdom below. Link was tempted to reach his hand out to touch it, if only to see the water vapor swirl between his fingers and give any movement to the heavenly skies that seemed so still. Between the sudden calmness of the dragon below him and the lack of wind, it was difficult to determine if they were even moving at all. 

One more time, his hands positioned themselves on the darkness-sealing sword. He didn’t even have to pull. The spiraling tendrils of fur loosened their grip on the glowing blade and fell back to their origin. She was giving it to him. She was letting it go. 

He held onto it as petals of warm light bloomed from the blade's recovered form, he was a little disappointed, the gold was rather pretty. It left behind a bright metal that shined in the pattern left behind when it had been damaged. Perhaps it was fitting that the sword be left with scars just like her master. 

Link brought the flat of the blade to his face, so he was looking right at the symbol of the Triforce. For a moment, he bowed his head as if he was sending a prayer to the goddess. He had no words to give her, he didn’t need her quiet well wishes or luck where he was going. Even if Ganondorf’s army was filled with King Gleeoks and armored silver Lynels, it wouldn’t be enough to keep him from tearing that bastard down. 

Even demon kings died, and Link took a little bit of pleasure in knowing that he was the one born to do it. Perhaps that would be enough to temper the fury within his bones that shielded him from the grief of Zelda’s sacrifice. Killing him wouldn’t fix everything, but it might. 

There was only one way to find out.  

***

Link felt like he had come back from the dead, which was a little odd, because he couldn’t remember dying. He could feel his spirit still settling back into his body, like dye slowly mixing with water, starting from his chest and slowly gaining feeling in his arms and legs. He felt heavy, something was pulling at him, but he couldn’t figure out what. He knew he must’ve been dreaming, or… something. There were the ghosts of recent images in his mind that he couldn’t quite decipher, just golden light and ghostly turquoise clouds. 

He forced his eyes open and made the discovery that he was falling. With a gasp of thin air, it all came back to him. Rauru and Sonia, being filled with blinding light, turning the slumbering light dragon back into the person he had been chasing this entire time. 

Link jerked his head around, searching for her, ignoring the fact that he was plummeting head-first toward the world below. She was nearly a speck of white in the distance underneath him. Immediately, he dove for her. He reached his arm out long before he was even close to grasping her again. 

She drew closer and closer until he was worried about diving too fast past her or into her and risking hurting her. He carefully leveled off his body as quickly as he could bear before grasping for her hand that limply trailed in front of her in her unconsciousness. 

He was inches away. One more desperate push, and finally, his hand was in hers once again. He immediately pulled her towards him, wrapping his arm securely around her shoulders. The other made its way to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. He could’ve claimed it was to protect her as they dropped, but in reality, he just needed to be close to her again. 

The wind swept away the relieved sob he couldn’t help but let slip out as he tucked his head into her bare shoulder. He had done all he could to convince himself that it would be hopeless. He knew how much more it hurt to cling to hope when there was no reason to. He chased memories that were doomed to never return and people who had died so long ago that weren’t lucky enough to linger if only for a single conversation. There was safety in accepting that it was too late, that all attempts were all for nothing.

But she was here, in his arms. Alive and breathing, the sound of her heart beating rumbled steadily beneath the ear he had pressed near the artery in her neck. If they weren’t plunging through the air faster than a burning comet of fragmented stars, he could’ve imagined waking up in their bed in Hateno as entangled as they were. 

Link wasn’t afraid of falling, he never hesitated to leap off of high places the moment King Rhoam first gave him his paraglider. He loved the feeling of floating weightlessly in the air, seeing the full majesty of the kingdom he had sworn to protect. He rode the air currents of the dragons without a worry of falling too far, but he had never felt like he was flying. 

Now, while plummeting through the skies, he had never felt more like he was soaring. She was his wings, her return was the only thing keeping him from sinking so far into the darkness that there was no hope he could make his way back up to the surface. He had gotten so used to the gloom that infected his veins and the refusal to hope that he would ever see her again that he had forgotten what it had felt like for everything to be right.  

He should’ve worried about landing, or about thinking of a way to pull out his paraglider while being able to keep his hold on her. He should’ve at the very least brought his eyes out from their hiding place in the crook of her neck. He didn’t. He trusted that some divine force would save them, perhaps they had earned just one more miracle. 

Link held her through reaching terminal velocity through the air, through the sudden impact and submersion into a body of water, through yet another fight for their lives and their world, and even when they were safe on the surface, he hesitated to let her go. Even though his muscles ached and the emotional whiplash had mentally exhausted him, he held her close to his chest and prayed for her to wake up. 

Eventually, his exhaustion won and he had to let her down gently into the grass before his legs gave out and she was given a less-than-romantic wake-up call. It took a moment, a second of feeling a steady stream of water transfer from his soaking wet hair down his bare back, of ignoring how the white fabric of her dress had turned partially transparent and clung to her thighs. 

In the golden light of the sun, pouring through the fluffy clouds, Zelda’s eyes began to flutter. After countless thousands of years, she was finally allowed to wake up, and Link would be there by her side to wish her a good morning. 

[flurrys-creativity]

8 drops of poison: The beginning

Pairing: Ateez (OT8) x GN!Reader; Genre: Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Angst; Rating: sfw, pg-15; Warnings: Ateez are vampires, Yunho might have some anger issues, blood, biting and blood drinking (but only brief and not described in detail), mentions of overthrowing the queen, mentions of a sick woman (a.k.a your mom), hints of stalking, an assassination as in the queen gets ripped apart and Hongjoong watches helplessly; Wordcount: 2.101

Summary: Vampires have been a story of the past - a myth even - to most of humanity, but not to you. Your family were the peace keepers between vampires and humans for centuries now and everything worked just fine - at least you thought - until they invited you to their castle.  

Masterlist

“That’s a suicide mission”, Yunho exclaimed, slamming his hands on the round table and standing up. He glared at her, seething since she spoke of her decision.

Everyone cowered away from him, some even flinching when he slammed his hand on the table again, yelling at her to reconsider but she didn’t even blink upon his outburst.

“Yunho”, Mingi murmured and placed a hand on his upper arm, trying to calm his oldest friend down, “maybe we just misunderstood her majesty.”

“I don’t think we did”, Jongho interjected. He turned his attention immediately back to the queen, frowning at her when she smiled.

“Why would you want this?” Wooyoung asked, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. He suppressed a sniffle when San grabbed his hand and squeezed it in comfort.

Yeosang turned to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, the oldest among them. “Can she do that?” Everyone else turned towards them as well, staring at them with wide and pleading eyes.

While Seonghwa tried to smile through the pain - unsuccessfully - Hongjoong looked grim and distant, too caught up in his own memories. 

Hongjoong had only been a few decades old when the previous queen had been attacked and was on the verge of dying. He had been the one to track her down, finding her in the home of a human family. The home of the current queen.

The previous queen had died the same night but not after turning the human woman, making her the new queen. 

Hongjoong had to carry both their bodies back to the castle in the middle of the night, trying to avoid being seen by any humans. There had been enough casualties on both sides at that time. 

A fact the current queen had changed the second she regained consciousness after being turned. The will to protect her family and especially her new born baby had made her incredibly strong, giving her the ability to turn the whole vampire society upside down.

She gathered strong individuals around her, created the hidden realm - a retreat for the supernatural in plain sight of the humans - and announced her family to be the peacekeepers between both realms. With their help the existence of vampires and supernatural beings became a myth, a legend, simple folklore for humans.

Hongjoong looked up at the queen, seeing the hidden sadness in her eyes despite her smile. He knew the reason behind her decision and if it weren’t for his found family he might have felt the same. “I’m going with you”, he said, leaving no room for arguments.

“But why?” Wooyoung cried out, throwing himself into San’s shoulder.

“I have lived for a long, long time”, the queen said solemnly, “I have watched how a life of fear and sorrow turned into a life of peace for our kind. I witnessed the death of my husband, my son and many of my grand- and great grandchildren. I became a memory for my family and now I have been forgotten for the last few generations. I am but a stranger to them. So now my time has come.”

The men stayed quiet, looking down on the wooden surface of the table while they contemplated her words.

“I need to prepare a few last things”, she announced, smiling gently when everyone looked at her again, “so my successor won’t get overthrown immediately and I count on your support.” She made eye contact with each one of them, waiting until they nodded. “I want you to have some of my power.”

Several of the men gasped in shock. It had been unheard of to share the power of the queen. She was the only one who was able to turn a human into a vampire up until now. The blood from any other vampire would do nothing. It had always been under the queen’s control which humans would be granted eternal life. 

“If anything happens to me before I can turn my successor, the eight of you will be able to fulfil the duty in my place. Together you’ll be able to turn a human into a vampire but only if all of you agree.” She raised her hand and bit into her wrist, breaking her skin with a groan. With blood smeared all over her lips she let go of her wrist, holding it towards the eight men.

Nervously, they exchanged looks with each other, unsure what action to take until Hongjoong stood up. He walked around the round table and kneeled next to the throne of the queen, bowing deeply. “I swear to follow the path you have created, my queen. It will be my duty to keep our kind safe.” 

With a satisfied hum the queen offered him her bleeding wrist, ignoring the trickle of blood that dirtied her dress and the ground.

Hongjoong accepted her wrist, delicately licking over her skin and sucking her wound. Both of them moaned from the exchange, Hongjoong breathing heavily when he stepped back.

Seonghwa was the second to follow, swearing his loyalty to her and the future she wished for. He licked his lips clean after taking her blood, bowing again and making way for the next member.

Each one of them - some more hesitant but all with determination - swore their loyalty, ready to fight for the peace they had established in the last hundreds of years.

“I thank you”, the queen whispered, feeling light headed after sharing her blood with eight men. “Hongjoong?”

“Yes, my queen?”

“Once I regain some strength I’d like to visit my family. There is a proposition I have to make.” She chuckled softly and leaned back on her throne, closing her eyes to rest a bit. “Everyone else is dismissed.”

Hongjoong nodded towards them and watched them leave one by one, whispering and murmuring on their way out. As soon as the last man closed the door behind him he turned back to his queen. “Are you sure now is the right time?”

She lazily opened one eye and hummed softly. “I know some of the older vampires wish to overthrow my regiment.”

“They don’t just wish to overthrow you”, Hongjoong blurted out. “They also wish to hunt down humans again. They basically wish to turn back to the dark ages, where humans and vampires the like got impaled, burnt, beheaded or even worse!”

The queen chuckled mirthlessly. “That’s why I got you.” She straightened in her throne, now opening both eyes and looking at Hongjoong seriously. “I trust in you and the others that this won’t happen. I hope to teach the new queen as much as possible but shouldn’t I be able to, it is your duty to teach her. Make sure all of you support her to the best of your abilities.”

“We will! But don’t you think it is better to postpone all of this until the uproar has been dealt with?” Hongjoong followed the queen out of the room, trying to reason with her but to no avail. Instead he simply kept her company on the way to the human world.

“So much has changed”, she breathed out in fascination, looking at the modern buildings and neon signs. “Would you have believed humankind would develop in such a way after we stopped the hunts?” 

Hongjoong looked around, feeling slightly out of place with his attire. “Probably not.” His eyes scanned every person around them, making sure none of them were a threat to the queen.

“Don’t be so stiff!” She laughed and hit his shoulder before she continued her way to the part of the town that still had some of the old buildings. She stopped at the corner of a road and held Hongjoong back as she observed one particular house.

Hongjoong followed her gaze, seeing a woman in a rocking chair wearing several layers of clothes despite the warm weather and thick sunglasses even though the sun slowly set. “Is that -?”

The queen frowned upon hearing the woman cough heavily before sinking back into the chair with no strength holding her.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” You stumbled over your short legs as you hurried from the small sandbox in the corner of the garden, carrying something in your tiny hands. “I made you medicine!”

“I need to get closer”, the queen mumbled, eyes trained on the woman in the chair. She ignored the soft protests of Hongjoong and stopped at the gate to the garden. “Excuse me”, she called and waved with one hand, “I’m afraid we got lost. You couldn’t possibly show me the direction to the plaza?”

Hongjoong looked around verily, not liking how the queen drew attention to herself.

The woman forced herself to sit up and tried explaining the way, having to inhale deeply every now and then.

“I’m so sorry”, the queen apologised with an awkward laugh, “you wouldn’t have a map at any chance? I’m really bad at directions. If you could show me the way on the map it would be a huge help.”

The woman nodded and excused herself, saying she had to check inside whether they still got a map. Once her form vanished into the house, the queen’s attention was on you.

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

You raised your hand and showed her four fingers, smiling proudly. 

“Oh, what a fine age”, the queen smiled gently. “I overheard you made some medicine. Are you a doctor already by any chance?”

You giggled brightly, hiding your face behind your hands as you shook your head.

“You’re not? Then what do you want to become?”

“I wanna be like my daddy and my mommy! They say they help others and that I will help those people too once I’m older!” You walked closer to the gate, curiously looking at the queen and Hongjoong. “Are you also someone who wants to help people?”

The queen nodded slowly. “You could say that. I am a queen.” She chuckled softly upon seeing your round eyes and the o-shaped mouth. “I do try to make the best decisions for my people.”

“Is he your king then?”

Hongjoong choked on his own saliva, hitting his chest as he tried to stop his coughing. “I’m not the king.”

“Do you want to be king one day?”

“What?”

The queen laughed and turned to Hongjoong. “What a good question”, she teased, laughing even more when she saw how flustered he got. “Do you want to be king one day?” While Hongjoong stammered something unintelligible, she turned back to you. “What about you? Would you like to become a majesty one day?”

“Can I?” If possible your eyes became even wider. You weren’t the only one though. Hongjoong stared at the queen just as perplexed. He only schooled his expression again when your mother came back out of the house.

The queen listened to her explanation and watched her frail hand trace a path over the map as if nothing had happened. She thanked her by clutching her hand before she bid her goodbye and left the way she came from.

Hongjoong looked at the humans one last time, shortly nodding, and then followed his queen quickly.

“Change of plans”, she said as soon as they were out of earshot, “the mother is too sick. She wouldn’t survive the transformation.”

“So you’re postponing -?”

“No”, she shook her head, knowing full well they have been followed ever since they left the castle. “The child will be my successor.”

“You’re planning to transform a child?” Hongjoong nearly shouted in irritation.

She glared at him and picked up her pace, wanting to be back in the hidden realm before her perpetrators attacked. “Of course not. They need to grow up. Make them the proposition when the time is right. So long I trust in the eight of you to continue my legacy.”

The second the two of them stepped through the hidden entrance, several vampires attacked them. Hongjoong desperately tried to defend himself while protecting the queen at the same time but it didn’t take long until he felt overwhelmed. “We need to escape!”

“YOU need to escape!” She shouted back and pushed Hongjoong out of the crowd. “Fulfil your duty!” These were the last words the queen said before she got ripped apart.

Hongjoong had stared at the mob in horror, rooted to the ground until his brain regained some control. Before the mob could attack him as well, he ran back to the castle - back to the safety of his found family. Back to his friends to found the first existing vampire council and to fulfil the promise he made to the queen.

Prologue  |  Hunger (Ch.2)

© all rights reserved  

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @songsoomin @thedeeppoet @scuzmunkie​

[frvnkcastles]

WATCH THE DAYS PASS ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Stuck in a depressive episode, you can’t get out of bed and Frank is right there to cuddle you through it.

Warnings: Depression, brief mention of suicide ideation, hurt/comfort, cuddles <3

Word count: 849

Author’s note: I’m back! I’ve been feeling really guilty for not posting for a few weeks and the reason why I haven’t is exactly what I wrote about here,, I’m just depressed and trying my best to stay alive instead of throwing in the towel. Could realllllly use some Frank cuddles rn. I promise to try and get to your requests soon! <3

A sigh escaped your mouth as you rolled onto your right side and felt the mattress flex under your movements. Through the crack in the curtains you had kept closed all day, you could see the sun was beginning to descend and welcome night into the city, and an ember of guilt for having spent the whole day in bed burned in the pit of your stomach.

You held yourself to the highest standard when it came to being a functioning part of society. It was even easier to be hard on yourself when you shared a life with the Punisher — while your boyfriend was out getting justice for innocent people, cleaning up the streets of the worst scum imaginable, you were doing what exactly? Laying in bed, neglecting the work that had been piling up on you all week, not to even mention seeing friends, taking a shower or eating. You couldn’t even bring yourself to do that.

In fact, you couldn’t even cry about it. The urge made you choke, but the tears wouldn’t come. You were both overwhelmed and numb all at once and it was a terrible, rotten feeling that you wished would leave you alone with all the little might you had left in you.

”Hey”, Frank’s gruff voice emerged from the doorway, and lifting your disheveled head from the pillows, you looked over to where your beloved was standing and tried to give him a smile. It was far from convincing, but he still mirrored the expression and stepped closer to the bed. ”Okay if I lay down with you, sweetheart?”

As soon as you had nodded, Frank was moving over to his side of the bed, with the mattress taking a dip as he gently laid down next to you. He opened his arms wide for you and you didn’t hesitate to crawl up against him, your head on his chest as he wrapped you in a warm embrace and left a kiss on the top of your head.

You were both silent for a while, but eventually, you spoke up in a meek tone. ”Thank you”, you squeaked, and with a quiet tut, Frank disagreed with your words.

”Don’t gotta thank me, sweet girl. ’M just here to do what I can”, he spoke with a gravelly promise, and squeezing him tighter, you nodded. ”You’ll lemme know if there’s anythin’ you need, yeah?” Frank added, and repeating your nod, you tilted your head so you could kiss his jawline.

”Just cuddles for now, please”, you whispered, and with a low chuckle, Frank ran his hand up and down your arm.

”Think I can do that.”

Peace and quiet ensued again, and you nearly dozed off in Frank’s arms while he drew gentle patterns on your skin, his calloused fingertips feeling like home. For a brief, fleeting moment, you didn’t want to die, you didn’t feel like you were being consumed by the darkness. He, as ironic as it was, was your guiding light and something to hold onto on your toughest days.

”You told me once… yeah, you, uh… you told me you feel guilty when you have a rough day”, Frank piped up eventually, and swallowing at the accurate statement, you waited for him to continue. ”I need ya to know that it’s bullshit. Not that you feel that way, it’s… it’s real, I know. But the part where you think you’re doin’ somethin’ wrong. You hear me? You’re doin’ what you can and there ain’t a single thing wrong with that”, he explained, his usual stern tone mixed with genuine affection and care for you. He may have sounded almost angry, but you knew he wasn’t. He was just… passionate. Yes, about you.

”A part of me knows that. And another, bigger part thinks I’m the worst person in the world for—for not showering, for not cooking, for not doing more”, you sighed. You knew that if there was anyone you could talk to about how you really felt, it was Frank. He never judged, but always made you feel safe and understood.

”Hey, listen to me. You’re survivin’. That’s what matters. Whatever it takes to make it through the day, that’s the most important thing you could be doin'”, he reminded, his voice gruff and low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. ”Sometimes you gotta take it day by day. Sometimes minute by minute. Whatever it takes, got that? You’re fuckin’ brave. And strong. I adore the hell out of you”, Frank went on, and you tried so damn hard not to cry. He may not have been a big talker most of the time, but when he was, he knew exactly what to say.

”I adore you”, you murmured in return, and chuckling, Frank left a kiss on your temple.

”And ’m one lucky asshole for that”, he rumbled. ”Maybe tomorrow will be better, yeah? For now… just be with me, huh?”

You nodded and lifted his hand up to your mouth so you could kiss his knuckles. ”I would love nothing more.”

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 17: Midnight

Trigger warning: This chapter contains references to mental illness and suicidal thoughts. Stay safe, friends ♡

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It is almost midnight when Ominis and I return to the castle. In hopes of finding Sebastian we head straight to the Undercroft. As suspected he is sitting on the floor with a book in his lap. I have no idea how he manages to read in the awful light, but he seems to enjoy it. When he hears us he quickly stands up.

''How is she?'' He seems tense, but I cannot blame him. I would be too.

''She's doing alright, despite the circumstances.'' I tell him. ''She got a thestral.''

He lets out a sigh of relief.

''I always told her people consider them a bad omen, but she refused to believe it. She always loved them.'' He tells us. ''Did she ask anything about... Me?''

''A bit, of course.'' Ominis tells him. ''But she hasn't changed her mind, if that's what you're really asking.''

''Understood.'' He says and turns away, walking back towards the corner where he was sitting before. ''And the prophecy?''

''It's worse than we expected.'' I say seriously. ''It will come true, unless we stop it. Someone in Ominis' family will give birth to the darkest wizard yet to exist.''

''So it's all a bit... Problematic.'' Ominis says, it almost sounds as if he's holding a laugh back. ''The ironic part is that I'm not even surprised.''

''I'm sorry.'' Sebastian says seriously. ''Let me know if there's anything I can do.''

''Nothing, for now.'' Ominis walks out of the Undercroft.

''He probably needs some time alone.'' I say. ''This journey was exhausting for him. Especially after finding out about... Everything.''

''I bet.'' Sebastian says.

His mood is clearly off. Likely, mine would be too if he were to visit a sibling who didn't want to see me. He sits back down on the ground, pulling his knees to his face and puts his face in his palms.

''How could I be so dumb?!'' He cries out. ''I should have listened to you all. I went too far.''

His cries are echoing slightly in the room. I have never seen him cry before and it hurts me so much. All I want to do is make him feel better, but I don't know how. I sit down next to him, putting my arms around him in silence. I kiss the back of his head and use my robe to wipe the tears from his face.

''I messed up so bad. How can I ever forgive myself?'' His words are barely understandable now that he's crying even more intensely than before.

''You need to find the will to forgive yourself.'' I whisper into his soft hair. ''You have to accept the damage you did and find some peace with yourself, Sebastian.''

He turns around and hugs me. I hold him while he's crying so hard that he's gasping for air. I tell him to breathe deeply with me. Eventually he calms down and stops crying. His eyes are red and puffy and he looks concerned.

''Do you think she'll ever forgive me?'' He asks quietly. He looks ashamed.

''She wants to.'' I tell him. ''She told me she wants to.''

He looks up at me.

''Really?''

I nod and give him a slight smile. It seems to bring him some comfort, knowing that she at least wants to forgive him. I just hope that it will be enough for him to start his own journey on forgiveness.

''You know, this summer when I was all alone... The feelings were eating me up.'' He says quietly. ''It was so bad. I could barely look at myself in the mirror after what I did. I wanted to end it. All of it.''

His words make my stomach twist into a knot. It hurts to hear the words slip out of his mouth, but it hurts me even more knowing he had to deal with those emotions all by himself.

''Oh, Sebastian... I'm so sorry you had to go through that.'' I whisper. ''You're so brave for telling me. You don't have to go through this alone. You have me.''

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his hand back. Squeezing and kissing his hand has become my way of telling him that I love him without actually using the words. They feel too big, too scary. So I keep them for myself.

I don't know how many hours we spend in the Undercroft. It could be an hour, it could be all night. But I hold him until we fall asleep on the floor. I want to kiss him until I can't breathe, I want to kiss him everywhere to take his pain away. But I know that tonight he needs me as a friend. Even if he doesn't use the word 'friend' to refer to me any longer, I know that it is in that way he needs me tonight. So I hold him in my arms, stroking his hair until he falls asleep, eventually falling asleep myself.

The next day I wake all tangled up in him. Our legs have intertwined and our fingers are twisted together. Even though it's cold in the Undercroft I'm warm due to his body temperature. I roll around, my back is aching from sleeping on the floor, and lie face to face with him. He's still asleep, slightly snoring. He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping and I wish I could make him have that look all the time. I kiss his nose, then his hand. His eyes open slowly, looking drowsy as he pulls me closer. He gives me a cheeky smile, despite just having woken up.

''So this is where I gotta spend the night for an awakening like this?'' His voice is hoarse from sleeping, causing it to sound deeper than usual.

''I suppose so.'' I say whilst moving even closer to him, allowing me to feel his body close.

''I could do this every day.'' He says as he presses his lips on my temple, causing me to feel a rush of heat running through my entire body.

We lie there even longer, backs hurting from the night on the floor, but not wanting to move away from the position we're in. His index finger is tracing my the lines on face, it's almost as if he's trying to fill in the lines. My upper lip tickles as he's tracing it, causing my face to light up in a smile. I kiss his index finger and he stops moving. Holding his finger completely still. He rolls over onto his back and puts his hands on his face.

''You're actually driving me crazy.'' He then says, almost looking embarrassed.

''Let me.'' I tell him daringly.

''You already have, love.'' That's the first time he ever called me a nickname that isn't 'new girl'. My heart starts fluttering.

Now it's my turn to roll over and cover my face with my hands. I feel my cheeks lighting on fire, most likely turning them into a bright red color. He sits up and looks over at me with a massive grin, then takes my hands into his and removes them from my face. I try to roll away, so he won't see my face but he shakes his head and gets on top of me.

''Oh, you're not going anywhere.'' He says, still grinning. ''Let me see that face of yours.''

For every second that passes, I'm blushing even more. He takes my wrists in to his hands, gently pushing them down on the floor. He's looking at me with fiery eyes, then eventually leans forward and kisses me all over my face except for the lips. Then, he sits back up and looks down on me.

''Oh, did I miss something?'' He asks firmly. I nod. ''You know what to do.''

''Kiss me.'' I beg him and he looks at me, as if he's deciding whether or not he should do it.

He leans back forward and kisses me, cupping my cheek with one hand and his other hand in my hair. I feel as if someone lit fireworks inside of me, hungry for more. When he's done with me, I feel like a blushy mess.

''Well, that's one way to start the day.'' He gets up and grins at me.

He offers me his hand to get up on my feet and we leave the Undercroft. In the crisp daylight I notice that his cheeks are also flushed. I smile for myself, thinking that I'm falling so hard for him.