#I like to think that wherever this version of them are living together is covered in air plants all over the place. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

genshin-scenarios · 2 years

Text

Adopt a Wanderer: Finale [Part 5]

Summary: Now that you've recovered from your cold, the both of you venture to a village in the outskirts for a weekend trip.

Note: This is meant to be a found-family series with Scaramouche, who you address as Kuni in this AU! Mostly meant to be interpreted as platonic.

Part 4 <<

Part 1

A few hours’ train ride away, you and Kuni find yourselves in a picturesque village known for their scenic views. Just a bike ride and you’ll get to the beach, and in another direction you find a field of flowers that stretches as far as the eye can see - a bit further more, there’s a market with fresh produce and crafted goods.

All in all, being here is truly therapeutic to the soul, down to the kind granny that runs the bed-and-breakfast that you’ve booked for the weekend. You learn that she’s been living alone for about a year now, and started this business as a way to keep busy - needless to say you and Kuni were quick to ask if you could accompany her tomorrow on her way to buy groceries, as both a way to get familiar with the village and help her carry bags.

Kuni sightsees in a way that makes you yearn for adventure; he turns in the direction of the wind when a breeze blows, and for a moment you can imagine him back in Teyvat as the Wanderer, travelling wherever he wished. Bittersweetness might be the word you associate with moments like these, knowing that at the end of the day, you were not cut from the same branch no matter how you’ve flourished since living together.

But so long as he’s happy, there’s nothing else you could think to wish for. Guardianship isn’t exactly your role now, but rather something close to being cherished friends. You can tell Kuni enjoys that more, too - leading you around to places that caught his interest, relaying new knowledge that you've never heard of...

Going at the same pace, living as companions - perhaps that’s something you’ve grown to appreciate more than you’d care to admit, considering how there’s always an aspect of him returning home.

Instead of brooding about it, you’ve decided to use this as an excuse to spend your days to the fullest; that way, you won't have too many regrets leftover.

To be friends with Kuni is to leave no unknown undiscovered. Not if there’s enough daylight to let your enquiries be taken by the wind.

“You youngsters really are too kind,” the granny that’s hosting the both of you accepts her bags with thanks. Before you can ask if there’s anything else to help with, she points towards the right of the street, giving you both a smile. “Over there is a path with stairs that leads up to a shrine. It’s covered by trees, but if you find the gap between them there’s a wonderful view of the flower fields, since we live on the edge of everything.”

True to her words, you and Kuni manage to find a window between the greenery where sunlight is filtering in. As he helps you push aside some branches to make room, the flowers below wash into view like a sea of dotted blooms. They’re a mix of colors, but what stands out most to you is how the afternoon light makes them look like they’re glowing.

Kuni looks up from the field, drawing his gaze from the marketplace and residential buildings, then further to the side where the ocean laid.

“Do you think the beach will be as beautiful as the rest of this place?” He thinks aloud, already trying to imagine how the sand and waves would look like from the tiny version here. “Back in… Back where I was from, there was a saying that when you picked up a conch shell and put it beside your ear, you could hear the ocean’s call.”

“Some other sayings claim that the sound is of home, or the voices of those that live miles and miles away.” You add, agreeing to go check out the beach if he’s game. “Let’s go see which one is true!”

By the time the both of you trek down to the beach, a good two hours have already passed; courtesy of a detour because you couldn’t resist the urge to check out the shops on the way. In your defense, Kuni was just as curious when you spotted stalls that were populated by locals, selling the most alluring offerings of food… One conversation led to another, and the Sun has dipped lower toward the horizon and is just starting to seep the sky in a rich orange. Not quite a sunset just yet, but certainly a more nostalgic time of the day.

It’s clear that the area is well-maintained when you notice the sand is void of debris. Even with your shoes on you can tell that they’re made of smooth grains, shaken and pulled by the waves in regular intervals. The search for a conch shell and other curious treasures occupy you and Kuni for a good amount of time, but you welcome the feeling of calm and quiet as you walk down your side of the beach - you’d expect to feel small and even lonely when looking out at a view that seems larger than life, yet it’s almost comforting to know that something this beautiful is real.

When you raise a shell to your ear to listen, you do make out a sound that feels different from your surroundings - it’s likely just some trick of physics, but seeing as you’ve come this far to find it, you consider this a token of success and dub it as the ocean’s call that Kuni mentioned earlier.

“Are you getting anything?” Kuni asks, holding his own shell next to his ear.

You nod, letting a bit of innocent delight take over the curve of your lips. “Yep! I think I can hear the ocean after all~ How about you?”

He pauses for a moment, shutting his eyes as if to listen again.

“Let’s see…” Kuni hums as he searches, but the only thing that echoes in his head are your words and your voice. In a way, his next words aren’t a lie at all. “I guess for mine, it’s something like the sound of home.”

Sharing warm dinners at your accommodation and chatting into the night will be a well-missed part of your trip; but as all good things must come to an end, you both board a train to return to the city on Sunday afternoon with some edible souvenirs in tow.

In settles the slump of a fun holiday coming to a close. It’s like a shared fatigue, in a way: you’re still enjoying the view that passes by through the window and the company of a good friend, but both you and Kuni are quieter during the ride as you contemplate on the things you ought to do when you get back, or what to have for dinner. Maybe Kyoho will even be there to greet you on the stairs as you approach your apartment building.

You’re admittedly a little sleepy from how the train is swaying, but you make it all the way back to your home without incident; everything is as you left it, and both you and Kuni greet the empty space with a quick “I’m back” - tired but happy.

After a quick shower you reconvene on the couch with a bowl of snacks and a store-bought bento you’d been saving from the trip, turning on the tv for some general entertainment while Kuni makes himself tea. It’s routine, maybe even a little mundane - but your sequence of habits is something that you’re quite proud to call your ‘new normal’ ever since Kuni joined your world.

“You almost made Granny cry earlier when you gave her our thank-you gift.” You smile, nursing your drink while you sit back and let the TV fade into background noise. An odd sense of gratitude grows in your chest, aching. “...I’m glad we got to go on this trip together. With how much you’ve grown into living here, I was starting to get a little worried that I’d never be able to impress you again,” you joke.

Kuni shakes his head, a light flush on his cheeks. It’s impossible to get drunk seeing as there’s no alcohol in sight, but you’re feeling a little lightheaded yourself from having been awake so long and getting a bit emotional into the night. “She’s not the only one I want to thank.” He starts, contemplating what to say. “I really enjoyed this trip - and just spending time with you in general. So while we’re doing this; thank you for everything.” Especially for finding me that one night. So many things might’ve been different if you hadn’t taken him in. “I’m really, really glad I met you.” He purses his lips, glancing away in embarrassment. “Because– You know. It’s good that we get along, and that I hopefully haven't been a nuisance while staying here.”

You can’t help but giggle at his fumbling, but your heart feels warm. The sound makes Kuni meet your eyes, and you’ve never felt more certain about offering to help him when he first arrived. “It’s seriously been great having you here. You’ve helped me a lot more than you might know.” You sigh, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling. Just by being around, he’s helped you become more assured of yourself; after all, what makes someone grow faster than by wanting to be reliable to another? “So don’t worry about imposing or anything like that. Even if you really do move on and stop living here, the door is open for you anytime.” Turning to give him a teasing look, your voice lilts as you mock-thoughtfully clarify: “–As long as it’s nothing illegal, of course.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t drag you into trouble like that.” Though his tone does soften, dark lashes fluttering as he fights against the urge to fall asleep. Your eyelids feel heavy, too - but you hear his sentiments clearly. “But still, thank you. ...Though we really should call it a night. You need the rest more than me.”

“We can just clean up the plates tomorrow.” You’ve given up on the idea of moving back to your room, pulling the blanket that’s covering your legs onto the rest of your body. It’s soft, and nice. Your thoughts really are starting to get hazy by now.

. . .

A quiet goodnight is muttered into the air. With you two passed out on the couch, it’s almost criminal to think that one day, Kuni will have to return to Teyvat.

Perhaps when that time arrives, whatever magic that took charge of this phenomenon might have the mercy of taking your memories away. At least then you may not be as burdened with the sharp feeling of loss that would otherwise leave its wound in your chest.

The next morning, you wake up just an hour before your alarm. It's a work day as usual, but at the very least you can spare yourself some prep time by eating some of the snacks from your trip as breakfast.

Wash your face, pack your bag, and out of the apartment you go. The cat that roams around the building greets you with a meow as you pass by, but a strong feeling of deja vu causes you to turn around sharply at the sound of leaves ruffling in the breeze.

…There's nothing out of the ordinary. The birds that nest in the tree above are chirping, the weather is relatively clear.

If so, why does it feel like something is missing? That you're forgetting something important?

Author's notes:

Thank you for reading my 'adopt a wanderer', series! It's been a concept that I wanted to write for a while, so I'm glad I managed to get this out to you all in the new year 💕

As for the ending, here are some things that I'll clarify!

Both reader and kuni have their memories blocked: not erased! They will continue to be blocked for now, and not be able to recall that any of this (Kuni being in another world) happened at all.

During the first few days, both Kuni and reader will feel that something's missing, but this feeling will eventually fade too while they settle back to their regular lives

Kuni has indeed been isekaied back to Teyvat during the night. But at the very least, they managed to have one last exchange of thank you's and I'm home, right?

Traces of him have either been replaced by other things in your world, or vanished completely. Think of it as similar to the convenient magic of Genshin being erased when he's nearby (and since he's gone now, it's back! Reader may gatcha and play once again 💙)

As for what happens to him after this… everything in canon still ensues, unfortunately. But maybe there'll be a surprise in the future that takes place in the sequel 😉 (which will be posted after a month or so)

UPDATE: sequel is done and posted here!

#genshin impact kunikuzushi #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer x reader #genshin balladeer #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x you #balladeer x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #traveler wishes

293 notes · View notes

codfanficedits · 1 year

Text

One fucking mistake - Part five

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 1025 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with no comfort, conversation, blaming, funeral, therapist.

A/N: Part four!

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ AO3 Link

It is the worst day of Simon’s life. The flowers, the suit he is wearing, the people surrounding them. He had dreamed of the day this would happen, but you wouldn’t be gone, you’d be getting ready to marry him, and by God, every time he thinks his heart is ripped out of his chest, the claws of life dig deeper and rip out the remaining pieces of his love. And he catches himself looking for you, even though he knows you won’t arrive.

But his love for you is still inside of him, and he carries you wherever he goes.

Simon knows he has to speak, his final act of love towards you. You deserve it, even though your body is not here, you deserve to get a proper burial. But it’s hard, too hard. The worst part of that love is that he remembers it, walking around everyday thinking that he is going to die in the universe that you loved him in.

He clears his throat, heads snapping into his direction as he tries to brace himself. It’s easier to treat this as a mission. Saying what he needs to say, keep his voice from breaking and getting out.

His eyes shift to the empty casket on the left, and without his permission his vision starts to get blurry and his goddamn heart starts to ache again. God, God, God. How he wished the two of you could’ve met as kids, because he knew you would’ve loved the softer version of him.

Simon looks down at the paper before him, the little speech he wrote to honour you, but he can’t read it through his tears, so he has to speak the words from his heart.

“Since you happened, I’ve never been the same.” Off to a great start.

“I don’t know what’s more tragic, that I keep looking for you wherever I go. Or that you’re never there, and I promise you, someday, somewhere, we’ll be together again.” Fuck, he can’t keep his voice from breaking.

“Whiskey was easier to swallow than the fact that you aren’t coming back.” He is becoming a mess, for all to see. His feelings on display as if it were in a museum. “I’ve learned that I can drink too much and forget the night before. But I’ve learned I can’t drink enough to forget the people I’ve loved and lost.”

A sob interrupts his speech.

“I don’t know what to say to you, except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.”

He has to get out, he needs to breathe fresh air, he wants the grief in him to be replaced by the scent of fresh flowers and sunshine. Who knew losing his lover could turn a hardened soldier into a sobbing mess?

Someone hugs him, but he is too far gone to even register it. Those same arms, same hands guide him to his seat, and his mind is empty when he listens to the rest of the wake.

And now he is sitting in a comfortable chair, a therapist in front of him. Simon still doesn’t know why he accepted it. After all, he still believes that he should suffer from what he has done to you. If you didn’t deserve to live, why would he?

He filters out her voice as he concentrates to the ticking noise of the clock. These appointments feel like a waste of his time. But so does rotting in bed, so he keeps telling himself you would’ve wanted this for him, for him to seek the help he doesn’t feel he deserves.

71 days. The last time he saw you was 71 days. And for those 71 days he feels like an empty shell of an human. And the worst part? Your shirts no longer smell like you, he had to throw out your leftovers, the mold covering the food you had prepared, but he had tried to cling on to it for as long as he could.

71 days, and your voice is a mere memory, it sounds different on the video’s he has from you, and he is ashamed that he can’t remember the real sound anymore.

What would you think of him? God he hopes you can’t see him from the afterlife like this, a goddamn mess, the last time he took a shower must’ve been a week ago, and if he doesn’t go to his therapy session, all he does is, well, nothing. The time he has on this earth is waisted by staring at the wall, hours on end. Just staring, and when his mind is done beating him up for making the mistake of asking you to go on that mission with him, it’s just turned off.

A waste of space, a waste of oxygen, a waste of everything. A pathetic excuse of a human being.

“Simon.” The voice of his therapist snaps him out of it. “Are you okay? I’ve been talking to you for minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grumbles.

She doesn’t believe him, he can feel it, and he can’t blame her, after all, most sessions are filled with an awkward silence, he doesn’t want to talk, and she learned that asking her questions gets her nowhere.

His mind wanders to your funeral again, how the empty casket is haunting him, how the nightmares about you being cold, dead and alone are haunting him, how even when he sleeps, he finds no peace from his mistake.

He can hear his therapist sigh, her long nails tapping on the clipboard, and it’s fucking annoying. He wants to tell her about the flashbacks, how he keeps relieving the mission, how he keeps replaying the last minute with you, he wants to, but he can’t. It is his secret, his punishment.

His therapist clears her throat. “Well, our time is up. Is there anything you’d like to discuss before we call it quits?”

“No.”

“Alright, see you again next week then, same time.”

With a scoff he gets up from the chair, ready to go home to embrace the darkness of his bed again.

55 notes · View notes

your-divine-ribs · 7 months

Text

One For The Wedding Album Part 1

Words: 3.7k

I’ve been asked for Part 2 of this and it’s still in my drafts and I do promise to complete it one day 🌸

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"For fuck's sake! Who requested Mr Brightside again?" You squeal tipsily.

The music's pounding and your head is spinning, a giddy feeling taking over as you feel a large hand close over one of yours as someone tugs you on to the dancefloor and spins you around to face them.

"John, I can't dance anymore, my feet are killing me!" You cry over the music, but Bondy's not hearing any of it, shaking his head at your protesting, pointing down at the strappy satin covered stiletto heels that you're wearing.

"Told ya you should have worn your docs!" Bondy chuckles. "Never see ya out of those bloody things, so why should today be any different?"

You roll your eyes playfully at him. "Oh yeah, they'd look great with my dress! Really elegant! Sure Van would have loved that!"

"I know you could carry it off though lass... and I don't think our Van would have minded what you turned up in today." He's still got your hand clasped tightly in his, lifted up, his other hand on your waist, and he's leading you around the dancefloor in a much less sophisticated version of an old-fashioned waltz, twirling you around every so often, making your head spin even more.

You're on top of the world. You're with all your family and friends, the drinks are flowing and you've been smiling so wide and for so long that your cheeks are actually starting to ache. You're having the absolute best day of your whole life. Exactly six hours and fifteen minutes ago you'd said "I do" to the one man who you'd loved since the very first moment you'd clapped eyes on him. You're a married woman. And not just any married woman. You're Mrs McCann.

Just the mere thought of your new name is enough to set off that daft, goofy smile on your face again but you don't have time to ponder it for long. The whole function room bursts into song again at the chorus, screeching out the well-known and much-loved lyrics at the tops of their lungs.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

"No more... no more... my feet are seriously gonna drop off!" You whine, twisting yourself out of Bondy's arms, ignoring his pleas for you to kick off your shoes and just let loose, promising him that you'll be back to dance with him later on.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in wide beaming smiles wherever you look. Your dad and Bernie are having what looks like some ridiculous kind of dad-dancing dance-off competition, your mum and Mary are setting the world to rights over a bottle of champagne and your best friend and chief bridesmaid Kerry is drunkenly and very provocatively draped over a rather flustered looking Bob, much to Benji's delight. He's taken Bob's Polaroid camera and is snapping away, immortalising the moment. You giggle to yourself, taking a swig from your half-drunken glass of bubbly before setting it down on a nearby table.

Now where did that husband of yours get to...?

Husband...

You let the word roll around inside your head for a bit, trying it out for size, seeing how it feels. You even find yourself whispering it under your breath, a flurry of excited butterflies teaming in your belly as the concept starts to finally sink in. Today is just the start of it. The first day of the rest of your lives together. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part and all that jazz.

You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't notice the tall figure right behind you until you feel large hands on your hips, making you jump and whirl quickly around.

"There you are! Where did you disappear off to? Was just about to send out a search party!"

"Just been out for a smoke with Larry, that's all love. I'm here now."

Van's looking decidedly less suave now than he did when you were standing in front of the altar together earlier that afternoon. His hair's all mussed up, his tie's askew and the flowers in his button-hole have wilted, but the sparkle that's been simmering in those gorgeous blue eyes is still present. In fact he's positively glowing as he looks at you, deeply into your eyes before his gaze slips lower, shamelessly raking over your body.

You know that look. You've seen it a million times before over the course of your relationship. And you know exactly what's coming next.

"Fancy... errr... sneaking off for a bit? You know... just me and you... somewhere quiet?"

As he talks his fingers slide down to your hips, flexing there, his own hips pushing forward to just barely brush yours.

You smirk up at him. "Thought the whole idea of getting married was about you making an honest woman out of me?"

"Yeah well, I've never fucked a married woman before," he grins. "The thought's kinda turning me on if I'm honest. C'mon Y/N, no one'll miss us. I've been dying to get my hands on you all day since you walked into that church."

You shake your head, tutting loudly. "Impure thoughts in church? How very unholy of you."

"I can't help it babe, you look gorgeous in that dress. Don't even wanna take it off when I fuck you, wanna ruin you in it whilst you're looking all pure and pretty."

"Van!" You cry, your hand shooting up to your mouth, your cheeks aflame, giggling loudly.

He knows damn well how much his dirty talk turns you on and you're tempted. You really are. You glance around, seeing everyone dancing and drinking and having fun.

He's right, even though you two are the stars of the show today you don't think anyone would miss you if you were to disappear off for a little while. There's no denying the thought of Van pressing you into the wall of the toilet cubicle whilst he's hitching up the pristine silk of your virginal ivory white dress has set off a throbbing heat between your thighs, but you're having so much fun you don't want to miss a second of the celebrations. And besides, you'll have all the time in the world at the end of the night. You have the bridal suite booked with its gigantic king sized bed and sumptuous satin sheets, a mini bar stocked with champagne on ice and a huge sunken bath. You can take your time with one another then.

"C'mon..." he urges, that irresistible cheeky grin of his playing on his lips. "Ya know you want to."

You place your hands over his, leaning into him and planting a sweet, chaste kiss on those lips, drawing back slightly but staying close so you can whisper teasingly into his ear. "The best thing's come to those who wait... and you're just gonna have to wait!"

Then you're off, ignoring his protestations, entwining one of your hands in his and leading him in the opposite direction to his intended plans, straight on to the dancefloor where a Van Morrison track has just started to play. Bernie immediately makes a beeline for his son, stealing him away from you so he can clap a hand around his shoulder and sway drunkenly to the melody as they animatedly belt out the lyrics in unison.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies

You watch them for a moment before Bondy's there again, reaching for you and twirling you around until you're giggling and dizzy, laughing and stumbling, falling into his arms.

An hour's past and the party's still in full flow. Larry and Bondy have been up dancing on the tables, Benji's been throwing some serious shapes on the dancefloor and even Bob's letting his hair down. You noticed Kerry sneakily leading him away to a dimmed corner of the function room after their slow dance had looked like it was getting a little heated. They're currently making out like high-schoolers would around the back of the bike-sheds. You wonder whether Bob will still remember it tomorrow when he awakens with a sore head and remnants of Kerry's lipstick all over his face.

Van's trapped in between two older female relatives who are fussing and preening over him and his eyes keep darting to you with a pleading "help me" type of expression. You just grin and lean in to take a shot with Bob's camera, laughter erupting from you when one of Van's aunts puckers up to press a sloppy kiss on his cheek, telling him what a handsome boy he is.

"Smile for the camera Van!" You chortle, ignoring the helpless look in his eyes when the other aunt leans and and starts ruffling his hair, talking about how it needs a good cut.

Then you're dancing away, taking snap-shots as you go, capturing those perfect and sometimes hilarious moments in time for your wedding album so that you and Van can look back on them in the weeks and months and even years to come, fondly remembering your special day.

"Oi blushing bride, aren't you supposed to be the one in front of the camera today?"

Kerry's suddenly at your side, snatching the camera out of your hands and turning the lens on you. You yelp in surprise but recover quickly, leaning in with your hands on your hips and a saucy pout whilst she snaps away.

"Oh my god Y/N, you look so beautiful today," she gushes as she retrieves one of the freshly printed photos to admire. "I hope Van realises what a lucky man he is to have you. I don't think he deserves you to be honest. Think I might just have to steal you away for myself!"

She hooks her arm through yours and makes like she's turning for the door, then you're both falling about laughing, holding the Polaroid up to snap a few daft, crazy-faced selfies. You're laughing that much that you've got tears of mirth brimming in your eyes and starting to track down your cheeks. You go to brush one away with the heel of your hand when you notice a black smear on your skin and you let out a groan.

"Ah shit! I knew I should have bought waterproof mascara for today. It was bad enough when I was sobbing at Van's vows but look at me now. I must look like a panda bear!" You turn towards Kerry, tilting your face up to hers. "Is it bad? Is it fixable? I must look such a mess!"

Your friend just laughs, shaking her head. "You look absolutely fine... gorgeous as always! If you don't believe me go and look for yourself!"

You gather up the silky layers of your dress and rush off in the direction of the toilets, cursing when you get there and you realise that you've brought Bob's camera with you in your haste to fix your make-up. The last thing you want is to drop his precious camera on the tiled bathroom floor, especially when he'd shyly admitted that he'd brought it with him especially tonight to gift it to you as a special wedding present to preserve the memories of the day. You place it carefully down on the side of the sink and step back to look at your reflection.

Your dress is gorgeous. Even as modest and unassuming as you are you can't help but admit that you do look stunning in it. It has a beautifully cut bodice embellished with tiny diamantés and freshwater pearls and a breathtaking full layered skirt which floats around your feet like you're walking on clouds. Even your less than sentimental dad had shed a tear and mumbled that you looked like a Disney Princess in it.

It's just a shame that the rest of you doesn't look quite so pristine now. Your hair which had been painstakingly curled and styled around the delicate tiara is now hanging around your bare shoulders in wild cascading waves and your make up is smudged. You're not even sure where your tiara is but you'd last sighted it perched on Bondy's head a few hours previously.

You run a fingertip gently under your eye to try and collect the mascara and eyeliner that's ran, but you just end up smudging it even more.

Despite what your best friend says in your opinion you look a mess... a gorgeous mess but a mess all the same... but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...

Your thoughts stray to a few weeks back and a wild passionate night with Van after you'd stumbled home in the early hours, how you'd huffed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and reached for a wipe to clear off your ruined make-up. How Van had snuck up behind you and grasped your wrist, telling you that no... he liked it... that seeing you all raw and disheveled like this in gorgeous disarray turned him on. He'd fucked you right there and then over the sink, pressing you into the cold hard porcelain whilst he'd grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection, telling you how beautiful you were when he made you fall apart for him. The thought makes warmth rise to your cheeks and it's not the only part of you that's heating up.

You squirm where you stand, pressing your thighs together, feeling the whisper of soft lace between your legs, thinking about the stunning ivory set you'd purchased especially for this day. You just know Van will go wild when he catches sight of it. But not yet... he's going to have to wait.

Teasing him is so much fun though...

An idea comes to you suddenly in a flash of wicked inspiration and you quickly hitch up your dress and take a naughty snap in the mirror, angled just right to show Van a glimpse of the alluring treat he'll get if he behaves himself and bides his time. Then you take another shot holding the camera aloft and looking up at the lens through your smoky, smudged loaded lashes, wide eyed and sultry looking, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Perfect.

You emerge from the toilets shortly after and you don't have to look very hard to find Van this time. As soon as your lock eyes with his across the dancefloor he strides straight over with purpose.

"Baby..." he drawls, dragging out the word slow and smooth, a hand curling around your waist, drawing you in. "If I didn't know any better I'd think my gorgeous new wife was trying to avoid me. Ya wouldn't do that would ya?"

"Of course not, I was just coming to find you actually. Got you a little... errr... wedding gift." You hold up the camera whilst you're talking and Van's attention shifts to see what you're holding, puzzlement creasing his brow.

"Oh yeah? What's that then?"

You produce the Polaroid photos, keeping them raised up and away from Van's seeking hand when he goes to take them, fixing him with a look that's pure seductiveness, ramping up the intrigue.

"Ahh, no you don't... not yet. Think you've been a good boy so far, so I'm sure you can wait a little longer. Just thought you might like a little taster of what you'll be getting later..."

Then you slip the photos quickly into the breast pocket of his jacket, nudging aside the flowers in his buttonhole, patting the material with teasing fingers as you look up at him, informing him that he'll have to wait his turn as there's another man who's been craving your attention all evening too.

As you back away to find your dad for that slow dance that you'd promised him earlier, you keep your eyes on Van, watching his reaction as he quickly slips the photos out for a sneaky look. Just as predicted his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, the unmistakable longing etched all over his awed expression as he meets your gaze across the dancefloor with a hungry look that can only mean one thing.

You're gonna get it later...

You smile lasciviously, your belly flipping somersaults at the thought of consummating the life vows you made to each other that very afternoon.

Sex had never been a priority in your life before you'd met Van, it was just another element of your past relationships that although enjoyable had never really filled you with the insatiable need that Van had sparked in you the first night that you'd met. He'd come crashing into your life one evening at a festival that you'd both attended, a whirlwind of chaotic energy and endearing goofiness as you'd both shamelessly fan-girled and fan-boyed over the Arctic Monkeys in their headline slot. With a very newly recorded debut album under his belt, you weren't familiar with Catfish at the time and would never have dreamed for one moment that Van himself was destined to follow in your idols footsteps and burst into the music scene with quite such aplomb. You also never would have dared to dream that the sparkly-eyed, floppy-haired indie boy that caught your attention that fateful night would end up stealing your heart in such a way that he did, but yet here you were, five years on, proving all the nay-sayers wrong, embarking on the next chapter of your life together. You were perfect together in all the ways that mattered... and as for the sex... it was pretty mind-blowing.

You catch Van's eye as your dad twirls you around yet again, the opening bars of another familiar song sparking a memory in you. It's the song that was playing on the radio when Van proposed to you, another Van Morrison tune. He'd been planning an overblown romantic gesture for his proposal featuring heart-shaped balloons and dozens of roses, taking you completely by surprise when you were out at a planned family meal, but he just couldn't wait.

When he'd seen you there in the kitchen that momentous afternoon just over a year ago, kneading cookie dough with a dusting of flour in your hair and a telltale smudge of chocolate on your lips, he'd thought you'd just looked so adorable... so beautiful... so goddamn perfect... that he couldn't wait another second to ask you to be his wife. The sparkling solitaire diamond platinum ring he'd taken to carrying around with him for weeks had been quite literally burning a hole in his pocket, and he'd dropped down on to his knees right there and then on the kitchen floor, much to your shock and delighted surprise, professing his undying love whilst he'd slid the ring on to your finger. It had been a perfect moment, one that you'd treasure forever, slow dancing whilst he'd held you tightly in his arms, and your life had since been made up of many of these perfect moments.

"I hate to steal her away from you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut in for this song."

Van's voice in your ear and his hand on your dad's shoulder brings you both to a halt, stilling your dance, and your dad lets you go.

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in, close enough that your hips are touching as you begin to sway.

"Got you on your own at last," he looks down on you, dipping his head to plant a small, sweet kiss on your lips. "I can't believe we actually did it babe. Married... the two of us. This is it now... we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together. I hope you're gonna still love me when I'm old and wrinkly."

"Of course I will," you tell him. "I'll always love you... just like I always have. Think I did the first moment I laid eyes on you to be honest."

Van chuckles. "You sure about that? I was a right state at that festival! Remember when you said you wanted to get up on my shoulders and I tripped over and we ended up in a heap on the floor?"

You laugh at the memory. "And you also spilt a whole pint of lager over me if I remember rightly... then instead of apologising you asked if I needed any help getting out of my wet clothes."

Van face palms dramatically, groaning. "God I really was a creep wasn't I? What the hell did you see in me?"

"You made me laugh. You were just so goofy and cute... and adorable... even with the shit chat-up lines."

You drape your hands over his shoulders, looking up at him, your fingers twisting through the hair at the nape of his neck. "And now here we both are..."

"Here we are," he echoes, a faraway look about him like he's caught up in a dream. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You're the love of my life Y/N."

Again he bows his head to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. When you pull apart the grin he's wearing stretches wide on his face as he starts to mouth the words of the song to you.

"And when I'm returning, from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin'

Brightens up my day

And it makes me righteous, and it makes me whole

And it makes me mellow, down into my soul"

You giggle as he takes your hand and twirls you around, happy and carefree. When you fall back into his arms, he pulls you even closer into his body, impossibly tight.

"She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love... She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love..."

He croons the chorus into your ear before pulling back to look deep into your eyes and the rest of the room seems to melt away. You're exactly where you want to be, it feels like the universe is aligned just right in that moment and everything else is just background noise, orbiting distantly around you both.

And in case you were wondering… this tumblr post was the inspiration for this fic! Part 2 to come…

#wedding fic #catb imagines #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic

15 notes · View notes

missmentelle · 3 years

Note

What makes a codependent relationship? Is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source for support, talking all the time? Getting seperation anxiety and experiencing extreme stress when they are without you? Is it selfish to not necessarily reciprocate that stress?

Let's start by defining what a codependent relationship is.

In a codependent relationship, one person (the codependent) consistently enables the dysfunction of another person, often assuming a "caretaker" or "protector" role. The dysfunctional person usually struggles with a serious issue that may make it difficult for them to function on their own - often addiction, mental illness, or serious underachievement/irresponsibility - and the codependent partner will make extreme personal sacrifices to take care of this person and shield them from the consequences of their actions.

Codependent relationships aren't always romantic relationships - they can be found between friends, parents/children, coworkers, other family members, or any other type of relationship. Wherever they exist, are very unhealthy for both of the people involved in them. The codependent person focuses so heavily on the dependent person's needs that they entirely neglect their own, while the dysfunctional person is enabled to continue being dysfunctional and is often prevented from making any kind of progress toward recovery.

Common traits of codependent people include:

a fear of being alone. They often seek out relationships with people who will depend on them and encourage that dependency to ensure that the other person will not leave them.

extreme fixation on the feelings and needs of others. They often view their own needs as unimportant or secondary and prioritize the needs of others, even when this has not been asked of them.

a compulsive need to "fix" the problems of others. when they see a person who is struggling, they feel the overwhelming need to step in and start "fixing" the situation, even if doing so is not their responsibility.

low self-esteem. They often have chronic issues with self-esteem, and don't feel that they "deserve" to have their own needs prioritized. Their self-esteem is often tied to their ability to maintain their caretaking role at all costs, even when it is incredibly harmful to them.

controlling and perfectionist tendencies. Codependent people often struggle to cope when they don't have high amounts of control in their relationships, or when things aren't done "just so". They gravitate towards caretaking roles where they have high amounts of control, and struggle to let go.

external locus of control. They often feel powerless in their lives, and feel that they simply have to accept their circumstances and the way that others treat them.

high capacity for denial. They often cannot or will not see problems that are right in front of them, and refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of a situation - the house will be burning down around them and they'll refuse to even admit that it's getting a little warm.

a history of interpersonal trauma or abuse. Codependency is often a learned behaviour - many people who fall into these patterns experienced codependency from their parents, or witnessed their parents' codependent relationship at a young age. Many have also experienced extreme emotional abuse, from their parents or a past partner.

a strong need for approval. Codependents need to be liked. They need approval. Doing things for others and letting others walk on them is the best way they know how to gain that.

boundary issues. They often cannot and do not set personal boundaries - they take a "Giving Tree" approach to helping others, endlessly giving even when it seriously hurts them. At the same time, they may overstep boundaries to try to fix others' issues, even when it is not their responsibility to get involved.

a lack of personal identity. The codependent relationship often becomes the focus of their whole life. They invest so much time and energy into it that without it, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves.

a tendency to be drawn to close relationships with substance addicts, alcoholics, people with personality disorders, or other codependents. Codependent relationships are usually not a one-off thing - they tend to be a recurring pattern in a person's life. In particular, people with untreated BPD often seek out relationships with codependent people, as they tend to prefer relationships with people who don't set personal boundaries and are willing to provide the extreme amounts of reassurance and caretaking that they need. People with BPD also tend to be codependent themselves, further complicating things.

an appearance of being "addicted to chaos". Codependent people often appear to gravitate toward drama, dysfunction and chaos. Having relationships with people who have healthy boundaries, autonomy and stable personal lives often holds little interest for them - they prefer relationships where they feel needed and depended upon.

Codependent people often have a "martyr" or "victim" complex - they often feel that it is their lot in life to suffer for others, that self-sacrifice is a key part of their identity, or that suffering is simply a part of loving someone. The idea that they should set expectations in a relationship, leave a relationship where they aren't treated well or have an identity of their own outside a relationship is something they struggle with. They often hop from codependent relationship to codependent relationship, becoming steadily more beaten down and burnt out in the process - breaking free from codependent tendencies can be a long process, and often requires professional help.

There is a lot of variety in what codependent relationships look like. Some examples of codependency in action would include:

A mother allows her chronically unemployed and irresponsible 38-year-old son to live with her, and does everything for him. She never confronts her son about the fact that he doesn't contribute financially or help out around the house, even though it's placing a great financial and personal strain on her. When other family members ask why her adult son isn't taking steps to get his life together, the mother becomes highly defensive, and may make up lies about the progress he's made, or insist that he's still young and that this is normal for his age.

A woman assumes the role of "caregiver" for her unstable and very mentally ill partner. She bends over backwards to keep her partner happy, and doesn't seem to notice or mind that her partner never does the same thing in return. Her partner constantly burns bridges with their own family or friends with their explosive anger, and she rushes in to make excuses and try to fix the situation. When friends raise concerns about the relationship, she brushes them off, insisting that she's happy and everything is fine.

The parent of an autistic teenager infantilizes their autistic child, and insists that the child needs much more care than they actually do. Being an "autism parent" is a huge part of their identity. The child has never been allowed to attend an overnight camp, go for sleepovers or stay at home with a babysitter, as the parent is highly fearful and believes that other people will not look after their child properly. The parent strongly resists all of their child's attempts to gain more independence, insisting that it's too dangerous or that the child cannot handle it.

The US version of the television show Shameless is almost entirely centered around codependent relationships. The main characters are all in codependent relationships with their alcoholic and dysfunctional father, Frank. Although the main characters are often angry with their father, they constantly allow him back into their lives no matter how horribly he treats them - at times, they give him money, provide him with alcohol, let him move back into their house, visit him in the hospital and cover him with a blanket when he passes out on the floor. The boundaries they set with him never last long, and they always resume having a relationship with him, even after he does things that most people would find unforgivable.

So with that said: is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source of support?

It sort of depends.

Relationships are supposed to be a reliable source of support for both of the people in them. That's sort of what they're for. I worry sometimes that the internet is making us too transactional in our relationships, and too quick to think that someone is taking advantage of us if they constantly turn to us for support. It's normal to find comfort in your relationships, and to turn to your loved ones whenever you need someone to talk to. I talk to my partner, my parents and my closest friends every day - that often means mentioning things that we’re stressed or anxious about, or venting about problems in our lives. Sometimes people are going through something and need extra support for a while - that’s just a normal part of close relationships.

With that said, there are times when someone leans on you too hard. If helping someone is starting to take a serious toll on your own life, that’s a problem. Every relationship needs boundaries; if your boundaries are consistently pushed or broken in the name of supporting that person, it may be time for a serious talk. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis is fine if this is a rare occurrence. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis multiple times per week, every single week, is an issue - that’s you sacrificing your own need for sleep, and something needs to change. Are you willing to set boundaries and balance your own needs with your friends’ needs? Is the other person willing to respect boundaries, or do they lash out with anger, guilt-trips, accusations of not caring for them or threats to harm themselves?

If you and a friend are both willing to communicate and work on establishing boundaries, I think it’s fine for one person to need a lot of support. If the relationship is damaging for you and one or both of you just isn’t able or willing to discuss boundaries, that’s a sign there could be some codependence going on.

A person experiencing separation anxiety and extreme stress when you aren’t around could be an issue - but again, it depends on how it’s being handled. Is your friend able to cope with this anxiety on their own, or are they constantly putting this anxiety on you? Are they blowing up your phone and getting anxious if you’re 10 minutes late answering a text? Do they ever try to guilt-trip you or blame you for triggering their separation anxiety? Do they accuse you of not caring about them if you try to take time for yourself? Are they jealous of your other relationships? Is their extreme stress taking a toll on your life and preventing you from having other relationships or having personal boundaries and space? If your friend is willing to work on boundaries and find healthy coping mechanisms for their stress, this might be something you can overcome. If your friend is burning you out and one or both of you is unable to set boundaries, this might be a very unhealthy situation.

Not feeling the same stress and anxiety, however, is definitely not selfish. It’s not healthy for someone to feel that level of extreme stress and separation anxiety - it’s not your friend’s fault that they experience that, but it’s still very unhealthy. The fact that someone feels an unhealthy attachment to you does not mean that you should feel an unhealthy attachment right back. No one benefits from that. In any healthy relationship, both people have a life and identity outside the relationship. This is, fundamentally, the issue at the core of many different unhealthy relationships - whether they are codependent, enmeshed, or abusive.

Being so attached to someone that you can’t handle them needing friends, hobbies, space and independence isn’t a compliment or something to aspire to - it’s just unhealthy.

Hope this answers your question! MM

#AnsweredByMM

661 notes · View notes

beenalark · 2 years

Text

Okay am I actually deranged or does Morrissey's cover of Moon River just speak Marrissey? Yes I know Morrissey did not write the lyrics, he only added some, but then again, he wouldn't cover a song if its lyrics didn't resonate with him. Like please just have a look and hear me out. I'm skipping the first verse cause it's not very specific in terms of Marrissey, but the following ones are really interesting.

Oh, dream maker - Johnny and Moz meeting, dreaming together and Johnny helping Morrissey's dreams come true.

You heartbreaker - this can be about Morrissey meeting Angie and learning to live with the thought that the boy he fell in love with is taken. I don't think this has to do with the breakup of the Smiths, because the song generally suits the beginning of their relationship more.

Wherever you're going/I'm going your way - this reminds me of a moment in Morrissey's interview where he says: "It got to the stage where I was so impressed and infatuated, that even if he couldn’t play, it really didn’t matter…" That's the point where he stops following Johnny just for his musical dreams and instead wants to be with him, wherever he goes and whatever he does. In other words, "everything depends upon how near you stand to me".

Two drifters/Off to see the world - pretty self-explanatory, the start of their career, tours and such.

I'm not so sure the world/Deserves us - that's the lyric that was changed by Morrissey. The original version is more naive and optimistic - "There’s such a lot of world to see", so obviously it had to be changed. Morrissey admired Johnny more than any other musician (or possibly any other human being, for that matter). These lines show his protectiveness and loyalty to what they have, to their connection and Johnny himself. Again, reminds me of a quote, this time from Morrissey's autobiography, about the time Tony Wilson said something unpleasant about Johnny. Morrissey says: "The comment tests me in my new role as Johnny’s comrade, and I fail because I allow meat-fed Wilson to say his piece." Morrissey immediately puts Johnny on a pedestal, and Johnny helps him regard himself in the same way. The two of them are more than the world. Also, Hand in glove again? "If the people stare, then the people stare, I really don't know and I really don't care"? "The good people laugh"? "We've something they'll never have"? "Kiss my shades"? Just saying.

We're after/The same rainbow's end - self-explanatory too, meeting a person whose dreams and ambitions align with yours completely and setting off to fulfill them together.

How come it's just around the bend?/It's always just around the bend? - another change of original lyrics, which are "Waiting ‘round the bend/my huckleberry friend,/Moon River and me". Morrissey could never have all of it, and, although the Smiths were successful, they were never as successful as he envisioned and felt them worthy to be. Issues with the label, no airplay, those are the things that irked him and enraged him. They should be bigger, but they can't be, and it's not their fault. Can also be interpreted as a comment on their relationship with Johnny, all of those almost moments that happened, the thinnest barrier between friends and lovers never being broken. And once more, reminds of Hand in glove - "The good life is out there somewhere".

And just to finish this nicely, have a quote from Morrissey himself about this song, which I discovered only after writing all this mess and deciding to turn to some more reliable sources than my own mind: "The fulfilment promised in the song is always in the future, so it has this never-finding, ever-reaching feel. It's hard to sing only in the sense that you realise you're more familiar with it than you perhaps thought." :)

Well, that's the end of my nonsense! I'm pretty sure I could stuff this with more smiths quotes, but I'll just leave it at that and shut up now, you're welcome. Hope this makes at least some sense, if not, feel free to tell me I'm mad! <3

#oof #the smiths #morrissey #marrissey #moon river

21 notes · View notes

rose-lord-of-simps · 3 years

Text

When Mammon Finally Snapped.

Request: Could you do something with mammon snapping at his brothers Bc of their words *insert emojis this author can’t- oh wait I can copy and paste hold on-

Request: Could you do something with mammon snapping at his brothers Bc of their words 👉👈

@mammons-baby

First of all, just let me say, I too, am a slut for Mammon. Second of all, I got so excited at your request so thank you for sending it in!

Enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing! (remember if cursing bothers you but you want to read feel free to just ask me for a clean version!) Mammon’s brothers being super mean to him. And mentions of blood but nothing detailed. Mentions of his brothers punishments and ripping of nails.

It was an accident. 100% pure accident.

“Mammon what the hell did you do?”

“How come you always assume it was me!?”

“Who else besides you and Beel could manage this level of chaos in the kitchen?”

Mammon really didn’t mean to set the kitchen on fire! Again...

“This is getting expensive Mammon. You need to stop being a nuisance.”

“Hey guys, this smoke is not good for my complexion so can we figure out how to put it out already?”

“Don’t let Mammon do it, he’ll only make it worse, as always.”

“Hey!”

----

“Scummy Mammon. Go away and leave me alone!”

He just wanted to see his brother. Levi hadn’t left his room for nearly 3 days and Mammon was worried.

“No let me show you brotherly affection and play video games with you!”

“I don’t want to play video games with you! Go find something else to do!”

Ouch. Normally he’d play with anybody.

“Sorry.”

————

It was not Mammon’s day.

The witches had called on him a lot and his clothes were all torn.

It’s started raining on his way home but he didn’t have an umbrella.

And he was operating on barely two hours of sleep.

All Mammon wanted was to sleep, but of course even that’d be a challenge. As he walked into the HoL the first thing he noticed was Beel and Belphie in a blanket nest snuggled up together.

“That looks so comfy, can I join?”

Cuddles sounded so good right now.

“No stupid Mammon.”

“Sorry, he’s grouchy because Lucifer woke him up from a nap on accident. But maybe it’d be best if you didn’t join.”

He should have known. This wasn’t the celestial realm. His brothers didn’t want cuddles anymore.

Mammon made his way back to his room, nearly tripping on air on the way, but didn’t fail to pass by Asmodeous undetected.

“You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you but I’m going out and don’t need whatever it is. So just... stay away. Okay?”

He really should be used to this by now.

He shouldn’t be crying silent tears by the time he gets to his room.

By the time he falls asleep he’s so exhausted he doesn’t get dinner.

————

It’d been four days.

Four days of no Mammon around the house.

He was never at dinner, seemingly always sleeping through.

He didn’t show at breakfast, already having left the house.

And none of the brothers had similar classes to their scummy second born.

Lucifer was the first to notice and tried to catch him when he came home but on the fifth day, Mammon just didn’t come home.

When someone finally pointed out that Mammon hadn’t been around recently and possibly could be in trouble, it of course was Beel.

“He doesn’t usually leave for this long though, what if he is in trouble?”

“Then why not just let him perish?”

“I agree with Levi. Let him wither wherever he is.”

“Enough everyone. Mammon’s been keeping a few crows in the aviary right? I’ll send one out and we can follow it, see if it leads us to him.”

“How do you know that’ll work?”

“It’s a dumb crow. They like Shiny things and his hair is a shiny thing.”

“Ya’ll are welcome for that, that shiny hair is because of me.”

————

When they finally found Mammon, it wasn’t pretty.

His normally white hair with almost purple iridescence was now a light brown, covered in dirt and what looked like soot.

His glasses were no where to be seen.

And his demon form was out, wings tied and possibly bleeding.

And the responsible demons were no other than the witches.

What hurt the brothers the most was seeing their normally lively sibling looking as if the life had been sucked out of him.

“Do you think this image will haunt them in their dreams?”

“Can I eat em?”

“What if we rip off their nails first.

“You underestimated us.”

“He May be a scummy demon and a terrible brother.”

“But he is our brother and we will not tolerate you harming him.”

For once, Mammon thought his brothers cared.

————

“What were you thinking Mammon!?”

He was wrong.

“This is disgraceful, you can’t keep getting in these situations. It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“What would be a suitable punishment?”

Punishment?

For what?

Getting hurt?

If they were just gonna do this then why did they save him?

“If you were just going to punish me then why save me?”

“You’re our brother, you may be annoying but we care about you.”

“Since when did any of you care?”

“That’s not fair, we’ve always cared you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Lucifer makes an entire demon out of pure rage and I’m the dramatic one?”

“Mammon-“

“No! I practically raised all of you! I brought Lucifer meals when he missed dinner, I covered all of your heads on the fall down, I planned Lillith’s service without any help because you all were mourning, I was the one who cuddled all of you when you had nightmares, and how was I thanked?”

“Mammon you’re being ridiculous-“

“I got hung upside down from the ceiling for days on end, I have fucking scars that I don’t remember getting because my brain has repressed the memories, I’ve gotten called scummy and an idiot for giving into my sin when all of you are excused, I’ve nearly died on multiple occasions covering for your asses when you do something wrong so Lucifer doesn’t get you, and when I try to reach out I’m pushed away by my own family.”

“Stop being so serious you know we love-“

“Love me? Love me!? You never cared about me. It took you four days to realize I was gone. And when I was hurt and obviously traumatized I’m told that I’m getting punished for being a victim. For being an embarrassment. If you wanted me gone so badly then why have just let me die!?”

The worst part was they all knew he was right.

They knew they used him as a punching bag.

They knew he’d taken the blame for them on multiple occasions.

They knew he was the only one who got criticized for his sin.

They knew he raised them.

They knew that if it weren’t for Mammon then they wouldn’t know what to do.

Which is why it hurt when Mammon left and didn’t come back.

====

I don’t like how this turned out but I’ve been having a lot of writers block lately and I’m glad I was able to get something out. I may try and come back to this when my writers block isn’t so bad.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me mammom #oney me mammon #mammon headcanon #mammon angst #mammon avatar of greed #mammon x reader

520 notes · View notes

cdroloisms · 3 years

Note

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

431 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Drum it out - Harry Styles

a/n: hiya lovelies! im bringin an OC fic this time only because i had a strong vision about the girl and thought it would be best to have her as one instead of Y/N this time, but hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! Remi Devon is a baddie, i like her!

pairing: Harry x OC

summary: Harry is forced to find a new drummer since Sarah is about to become a mom, but no one seems to be good enough to replace her. It is until he meets Remi Devon, the woman who completely takes his breath away from the moment he sees her on stage.

word count: 7k

warning: NSFW content, some slight spanking

masterlist

“Don’t worry, you’ll love her just as much as I do!” Sarah smiles at Harry, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as they make their way into the small but cozy looking bar. Harry is skeptical, mostly because for him, no one compares to Sarah and if it wasn’t for her pregnancy, he would do anything to make her stay in the band. But he is so happy his two friends are starting a family together, it’s only that Harry is now forced to look for a new drummer as it’s getting harder for Sarah to keep up with the hectic lifestyle they’ve been living. Her bump is now pretty obvious and it’s only a matter of time until she can’t sit behind her instrument.

They’ve been trying to find someone to replace her during the second half of her pregnancy and at least the first year after she gives birth, but no one seemed good enough. Truth is, and Harry knew it damn well, that his problem was always the same: they weren’t Sarah.

Now she has dragged him to check someone out, a girl Sarah knows from years ago and who was told to be a mind-blowing drummer, though Harry has doubts about that.

“Sure will,” he hums, not too convinced about it.

The bar was previously a small theater, the seats have been taken out on the ground floor, replaced with tables and stools around the sides and a dance floor in the middle. The gallery is used as a kind of VIP area, this is where the two of them are right now, sitting at a small table in the front corner so they have an amazing sight of the stage where a local band is about to start very soon. Sarah said Remi, the drummer in the talk, is just a jump-in for the night for a friend, but it was a great opportunity for Harry to check her out.

“You know, she beat me at an audition a while ago. This super cool rock band was looking for a drummer for their mini-tour in Canada, because their drummer broke his leg and we both tried for it. There were still some people waiting to audition when she went in and she blew their mind so much, they just ended the audition right there,” Sarah tells him, the story still holds a dear place in her heart. She and Remi used to be close friends, but got a little distant as life took them to different paths. Now they are meeting up every few months when they are in the same city, catching up on everything since they last saw each other, sharing their equally exciting stories.

“Really?” Harry asks with genuine surprise as he takes his beer from the table and glances down at the stage. Everything is set up already and his eyes move to the shiny looking drum set at the back. It’s hard to imagine himself finding someone as good as Sarah, for Harry she has been the etalon ever since they met. But now he is forced to find someone even though he doesn’t want to, not even a bit.

“Yeah. She is the kind of girl that just turns heads wherever she goes without even trying.”

“You think I would get along with her well?” he asks, turning to face her just in time to see the wide smirk on her lips as she nods.

“I think you two would make an epic duo, H.”

“Alright, now I’m interested,” he smiles softly.

“She said they will play a lot of covers.”

“What kind?”

“You’ll see,” she smirks, sipping on her lemonade, a hand going to slide down on her stomach.

The dance floor is not packed, but there are a lot of people, seemingly most of them are here specifically for this band called Striped Shoes, Harry hasn’t heard about them until now but he is always happy to discover new music.

Soon, the lights go down, darkness falling to the theater, the only light is coming from the bars at the back. Then a spotlight turns on and a guy is standing in the middle of it, cheers erupting from the people as he starts playing the guitar and Harry immediately recognizes the song: Smells like teen spirit by Nirvana. Just a few riffs later all the other spotlights come on, each of them illuminating a member of the band and Harry’s eyes flick to the drum set where the only female on the stage is sitting, he catches her the moment she starts playing, the vibrant energy lingering around her almost knocks him off the stool even from this far away. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders, it falls to frame her heart shaped face in soft waves, the roots are a darker color than the rest that’s an odd shade of mahogany, but it suits her perfectly, Harry thinks. She has a few tattoos littered across her arms but not a full sleeve on any of them. They are on full display in the shirt that’s sleeves were seemingly ripped off, the fabric is raw on her shoulders. It seems to be some kind of old band shirt but Harry doesn’t recognize the logo on the front. Her legs are wrapped in ripped jeans and Harry is immediately mesmerized by how steadily she keeps the rhythm while absolutely nailing the song.

She makes it look so easy yet fascinating, her head snaps back a few times, a satisfied grin stretching across her lips as she enjoys the music, clearly a fan on it. She doesn’t miss a beat and flows into the next song that’s an original from the band as if the two songs were the same while she had to switch up the rhythm entirely through the transition.

Harry feels starstruck, watching this woman take the whole show, in his opinion, while simply sitting behind the drum set, playing like no one he has ever seen. She puts all of herself into it and that’s why she manages to outshine everyone else. Harry knows how hard it is for a drummer to get the same kind of attention as other members, but Remi makes it seem like it’s the natural, like drummers are the front people without a doubt.

When the cover version of Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin comes on, in a way more hard rock version, Harry almost fears the stage is about to catch on fire. The song already has amazing drums in it, but the band gave it even more attention, giving a chance for Remi to show how amazing she really is.

“So? What do you think?” Sarah shouts over the music and Harry suddenly realizes he is not alone. He managed to zone out on the drummer without even noticing.

“She is… amazing,” he admits truthfully, in complete awe of what he is witnessing. This is music. This is passion. This is exactly what Harry always looks for in musicians and Remi has a whole lot of it.

They push the short drum solo a little longer at the end and Harry watches as Remi finishes the song standing, playing so hard that with the last hit, one of her sticks simply snaps into two, flying across the stage as she is breathing hard, skin glimmering from the sweat, her hair a complete mess from all the head shaking she’s been doing, but Harry thinks that it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Sarah knows she finally found her replacement, judging from Harry’s look she knows he is a sucker for Remi so she just lets him enjoy the rest of the concert.

When they play their last song and they all gather at the front of the stage to bow in front of the audience, Harry finds himself standing as he is applauding the band, but especially Remi who doesn’t even know Harry Styles is now a fan of hers.

“Let’s talk to her, shall we?” Sarah suggests once they disappear from the stage. Harry nods, finishing up his beer before the two of them head backstage.

Sarah has been put on the list since she previously let Remi know she would be coming. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, however was not told that Sarah would be coming with someone else so when Remi spots the two of them walking down the small hallway at the backstage, she is surprised but not shocked. She knows Sarah has been working with him for a long time now, but she wasn’t expecting him to be here tonight.

“Hey! There you are, mama!” Remi jokes with a heartfelt chuckle as she hugs her old friend. “Already looking like a milf!” she teases, earning an eye-roll from Sarah.

“Rems, I want you to meet Harry. Harry, this is Remi Devon.”

Remi’s eyes meet Harry’s piercing green ones and for a moment, Harry feels his stomach drop. She is even more breathtaking up close, in her simple but very fitting outfit, hair pushed back from her face carelessly she is easily the first woman ever to make Harry nervous to the point where he is having a hard time to even talk.

Remi holds out a hand for him smiling warmly and he luckily takes control over his actions and shakes it before it could get awkward.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Heard a lot about you,” she chuckles softly.

“Hope you believed only the best,” he nods with a shy smile.

“Oh, of course,” she winks and Harry swears he felt his heart skipping a beat.

“We actually have something to talk to you about, Rems. Do you have some time for us?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face and I’ll be right back. There’s a small green room on the left, feel free to wait there,” she nods and disappears a moment later.

Sarah and Harry move into the room as Remi told them to and just a few minutes later she storms inside, a new shirt hugging her torso, a simple black one, but it’s tight unlike the one she wore for the concert. She sits into the armchair while Sarah and Harry have taken the small sofa.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” she smiles at them crossing her legs. Harry knows he should be the one to bid the offer, but it seems like he is not finding his words just yet. But Sarah is quick to talk when she realizes Harry is at a loss of words.

“I brought Harry today because I wanted him to see you play. We are currently looking for someone to take my place shortly,” she explains, placing a hand to her bump. “I know you’ve been freelancing lately so I thought you’d be interested in working with the band and of course Harry.”

“Oh!” She seems genuinely surprised at the offer. “So this was kind of my audition in secret?” she chuckles.

“You could say that,” Sarah smiles.

“And how did I do?” she asks, eyes meeting Harry’s gaze that hasn’t left her face since she arrived.

“You… definitely passed. The best I’ve seen so far,” he tells her and the smile on her face is worth everything for him.

“So what does this mean exactly?” This time Harry answers, finally finding his voice.

“If you are not too busy in the upcoming time, I would love to have you as my drummer,” he states, handing her the offer on a silver plate, basically.

It’s an offer most musicians dream of, so Harry thinks she’ll accept it right away, but of course, Remi is not like others.

“I’ll be needing some more details before I give you my answer though,” she smiles.

And that, she gets. A few days after the concert Remi meets up with the rest of the band and Jeff to talk about all the details. She clearly wants to know what she is jumping into and Harry respects that. At the end she accepts the offer and as Harry watches her sign the paperworks, a huge wave of satisfaction and excitement washes over him.

***

The public imagines Harry as the picture perfect human being who is always at his best, never making any mistakes, but that’s far from the real truth. He is as flawed as anyone else, it’s just that not many get the chance to see him in this state.

His bandmates are among the few privileged ones that are bound to see all his ups and downs as well and since Remi is part of them now too, she has witnessed his bad days since they have started working together.

Harry’s growl is heard in the microphone when he is supposed to be singing and the music soon comes to a halt. It’s probably the tenth time he is messing up the exact same part because his head is just not at the right place. He knows he should be at the top of his game, not wasting his colleagues’ precious time, but he just can’t bring himself away from the heavy thoughts that’s been occupying his mind lately. There are days when he is as free as a bird, not a worry in the world, but sometimes everything comes down at once and he feels like crumbling under the weight of his own career.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes into the microphone, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes for a few seconds to collect himself. The silence in the auditorium where they are currently rehearsing for tour is harsh, everyone is tired and they can feel the nerves creeping up on them about the upcoming tour and making sure that everything is perfectly in place for the first show.

Remi looks around from behind her drum set, holding her sticks in one hand and she doesn’t like what she is seeing. A group that’s always so happy and carefree is now just a big ball of stress, this is not right.

“Guys, why don’t you all wrap it up for today, I’ll stay here with Harry and help him get it right,” she offers.

“How do you want to practice without everyone else?” Mitch asks, not at all in an offending way, more like out of curiosity.

“I’ll find a way,” she smiles softly and he doesn’t push it further.

As the rest of the band is packing up, leaving slowly, saying their goodbyes Harry is sitting on the floor next to one of the speakers, head hanging low, deep in his thoughts. Adam is the last one to leave the place and once it’s just the two of them, she stands up from behind her set and walks over to the desperate man.

“Get up,” she orders, not in a bossy manner, more of a ‘do what I asked, I’m trying to help’ way so Harry obeys. Standing up he towers above her, almost a full head taller than Remi, but still, sometimes she can make him feel so small.

Harry has noticed that her energy is making her push the air out of his lungs sometimes, just the way she stands, looks, moves around a room, it’s making her appear like the ruler of everyone around her. He has often found himself just staring at her from afar since she has joined the band and even though she has caught him ogling her a few times, he just still can’t bring himself to stop admiring her. He definitely has a fat crush on the new addition to the team, however now his feelings are pushed aside, their place taken by his anxiety and worries.

She takes his hands and pulls him to the middle of the stage, putting the microphone stand to the side so they have some space cleared out around them. She then turns to face him, a warm smile tugging on her lips while he is rather curious about what she has on her mind.

“Scream,” she simply tells him, his eyebrows immediately knitting together in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“Scream,” she repeats, but he is still lost about the situation. She chuckles a little before taking a few steps away from him, twirling around her heels before stopping facing the area where the audience is supposed to be during a concert. “Whenever I feel like I’m locked, like everything around me is so suffocating that I can’t even function normally, I take a minute and just let it all out,” she explains before taking a deep breath and hunching over, the most eardrum-breaking scream bursts out of her, making Harry jump a little.

She holds it long, until her throat is cracking up and she runs out of her breath, then the scream dies and she takes a deep breath, filling up her lungs again. Harry stands there, completely stunned, thinking that if anyone heard her now, they are surely convinced she is being tortured here.

When she turns back to face him again, she is smiling as if nothing just happened, like it’s the most natural thing to randomly scream from the top of her lungs on a casual Wednesday night.

“Now it’s your turn,” she tells him, but Harry doesn’t feel like it’s gonna be his thing at all. But he still turns to the side, clears his throat and lets out a not too forceful shout that’s quite saddening compared to her scream. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you can do better, Styles,” she chuckles, hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side.

“Is this really necessary?” he questions, eyebrows still furrowed at her.

“Very much. Now come on, do it!”

“Remi, I--”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish, because she screams at him, knocking the air out of him once again, making him flinch at her sudden action.

“Scream!” she then snaps at him.

“I don--”

“Scream!” she repeats forcefully and Harry gives up. Taking a deep breath he lets his voice out in a hoarse scream that’s way more vibrant than his last attempt. “Yes! Again!” she grins nodding and he does it again.

And then again and again, until he feels like his chest is completely empty, like nothing is keeping a tight grip on his insides anymore. He is panting, mind racing as he realizes how much better he is feeling now, meaning that Remi’s technique worked.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, smirking, her arms folded on her chest.

“Fucking awesome,” he chuckles out of breath, running his hands through his messy hair.

“Great. You think you can handle going through the song now without messing up?”

“I… think?”

“Alright, grab your guitar and I’ll give you the beat.”

She moves back behind her set as Harry grabs a guitar, throwing the strap over his head, turning to face Remi behind him as he places the microphone stand in front of him.

“I’ll go softer on the beats, you just do your thing okay?” she tells him and he just nods, fingers already on his guitar.

Kiwi sounds a whole lot different with just the drums playing weakly and only one guitar playing, but it’s not what matters. Harry finally manages to go through the song without messing anything up.

When the song ends and the music is replaced by silence, Harry can’t help the grin stretching across his face.

“I fucking needed that,” he sighs, his head falling back for a moment as the last bits of euphoria settles in his body.

“Want to go over something else?” she asks, turning back and forth to the sides on her stool, playing with the sticks, twirling them between her fingers easily.

“You sure don’t want to go home like the others?”

“Let’s see what choices I have. I can go home and watch an entire season of Love Island on my own, eating leftovers from two days ago or I can stay here, play music with a hot dude. I think I’m fine with the second option.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up at how simply she just called him a hot dude, his heart fluttering in his chest again like the first time he saw her play, only difference is that now her eyes are piercing on him and it’s just the two of them in an empty room. He is already having thoughts that should probably be pushed down.

“Did you just call your boss hot?” he teases her then.

“I don’t think you’re my boss,” she scoffs. “You need me here more than I need to be here, so I think I’m the one having the higher ground,” she points out and Harry knows she is so damn right. “Besides, I know you find me hot as well.”

He is quick to blush at her words, but that doesn’t stop him from questioning her.

“What makes you think that?”

“I see you staring, Harry. I’m not oblivious or naive. I know you like checking my butt out every time I’m fixing my set leaning down,” she chuckles and now he is certain his ears are a deep shade of red, he was caught more often than he thought, it seems like. “Also…” she smirks slyly. “If you think you hid your hard-on cleverly the other day when I played my solo, you are wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry mumbles, cursing himself for being such a horny teenager around her, but he can’t help it. The woman is the epitome of everything Harry finds so fucking attractive, it’s like she was made for his imagination specifically. “This, um, this is a little awkward, but I’m sorry--” “Oh, don’t be,” she chuckles. “I’m just lucky I’m a woman and my arousal can’t be seen that easily,” she comments and Harry almost chokes on his own breath.

Did she just admit she has been turned on by him before? When? What did she think about? What was it that made her turned on? Harry needs answers, however he is not given the chance to get them.

“Alright, you can choose two more songs we’ll go over and then we are off,” she simply says, as if they weren’t just talking about being horny a moment ago.

“Uh, maybe Only Angel and, um, Lights Up?” he prompts, trying his best to regain his composure.

“Cool. Let’s do them.” And with that, she switched back to work mode without batting an eye.

***

It feels like the crowd will never stop screaming. It just keeps going and going, people are probably losing their voice, but the screaming just continues as Harry stands at the front of the stage, his adrenaline jumping to the sky, eyes roaming around the full arena. He throws a few more kisses, placing his hands to his chest one last time before turning around and heading off the stage, his eyes meeting Remi.

She is not wearing her usual clothes, instead, she is now sporting a pair of high-waisted dress pants in a lavender color, a white top tucked into it, her matching blazer thrown to the floor, she probably got hot the moment she started playing. Her tattoos are on full display and she looks just as sweaty as Harry feels. But still, for him she is a sight he would love to look at for the rest of his life.

Their eyes meet and she smirks at him, eyes glimmering from the high she experienced through the concert, it’s a feeling they all share every time they perform together and it’s clearly like a drug neither of them wants to come clear of.

“Good job, Rockstar,” he reads her lips saying and he laughs, winking at her.

Ever since their one-on-one rehearsal, things have felt to change between them. It’s like a barricade that’s been lying between them has come down and they are feeling much more free around each other. Secret glances, touches and flirty comments are their usual and they don’t care that the people around them are starting to catch on it as well. They love the game they are playing and neither of them plans on stopping it.

Harry stops at her drum set, holding out a hand to help her up and walk her off the stage, knowing well she doesn’t feel the most comfortable in her stage clothes and feels a little too restricted by the end of the concerts, but she understands that her style does not go well with the look they are going for.

She snatches her blazer from the floor and gladly takes Harry’s helping hand as he walks her off the stage, her Gucci boots feeling a little too tight at the moment.

“One of these days I’m gonna rip these pants off,” she jokes, pulling on the tight waistband of them.

“Just make sure I’m around when it happens, Darling,” Harry teases, making her laugh as they walk backstage, everyone congratulating them and the band following behind on their way.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Very much,” he admits without shame, the blushing long gone from his cheeks and ears. The buildup has changed his nervousness around her lately and he is enjoying the teasing and flirting all too much.

The whole team agrees that tonight’s show was exceptionally good and that it deserves some celebratory drinks. A few blocks away from the hotel where everyone is staying there’s a cozy looking bar and the rather loud lot occupies half the place as they flow in and start ordering their endless rounds of drinks.

Harry is sitting at one of the tables they have taken up, going strong with his third beer of the night, half zoned out of the conversation with the small group he is sitting in. His eyes are fixated on Remi’s figure who is standing at the bar with Charlotte, unlike every other female around she is not sipping on some kind of fancy drink or a cocktail, she went straight for the crafted beers the place had to offer. She has changed her stage clothes, wearing her usual tight black jeans and a sheer top with a simple black sports bra underneath it. Harry can’t stop his eyes from raking down her body, taking in every curve, tattoo and tiny detail about her and he thinks that there is not one thing on her he doesn’t find attractive.

Her eyes find him, a playful smirk playing on her lips Harry has been thinking way too much about lately, and she cocks an eyebrow at him in a way that yells at him: Like what you see, Rockstar?

As an answer, he just simply shrugs with a growing smirk until she turns back to Charlotte, who is still talking to her, she hasn’t even noticed that Remi was focusing somewhere else for a moment. Remi laughs at something her bandmate said and Harry wishes he could be closer to hear her voice, he has grown quite a liking to her laughter, he has been trying to crack as many jokes lately as he can just to hear it.

He takes his eyes off her just for a second when someone at the table asks him something. He mumbles his reply and reaches for his beer as his gaze shifts back to her figure, only to find that Charlotte is not gone and a not so friendly looking guy is behind her, clearly trying to chat her up.

The dude is standing way too close to her for Harry’s liking, leaning in to talk to her, but she keeps backing away, however he does not care about that. She is clearly not enjoying the exchange and when the guy reaches up to her face Harry is quick to jump to his feet, ready to go to her rescue. But it’s not needed.

Just as he takes one step towards the scene near him, he witnesses as Remi grabs the bloke’s hand before he could touch her face and with a strong and quick move, she twists his arm behind him, keeping the guy on his toes as he is trying to escape her deadly grip on his wrist, his hand pushing into the middle of his back.

Harry’s mouth hangs open as he watches Remi tell something to the guy in a not too friendly manner before letting him go and the man flees before Harry could blink twice.

“That was impressive,” Harry tells her, walking up to her at the bar. Remi just shrugs, gulping down the rest of her beer.

“I know some tricks.”

“How come?”

“Grew up with three older brothers, had to learn how to defend myself when they decided to attack me out of nowhere.”

“Three brothers? That must ‘ave been wild,” he huffs impressed.

“I surely didn’t have a girly childhood, I’ve always been kind of a tomboy,” she shrugs again. As a teenager, she often wished she would be like the girls in her class, but later on she realized how big of an advantage it is that she speaks the boys’ language so easily.

“I think it just made you… badass,” Harry smirks, leaning against the bar counter.

“Is that what I am?”she arches an eyebrow cockily.

“Definitely. A handful, but the good kind.”

“Oh, just be careful, Rockstar. I might think you are trying to get into my pants,” she chuckles and as Harry hears her laugh he can’t stop himself from taking it further. She is too intoxicating.

“And what if I am?”

Remi doesn’t seem surprised at his comment, not even a bit. She is clearly enjoying the flirting once again, but when she answers, he surely is the one who is surprised.

“Then I gotta say you are working way too slow. I’m losing my patience.”

His eyebrows rise, lips parted as he stares back at her, the words that left her lips pushing the air out of his lungs once again, he is done for her. Utterly and completely. He wants to say and do a million things, but then settles on just one simple question.

“Want to get back to the hotel then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she smirks and simply heads towards the door without another word spoken. Harry is quick to grab his stuff from the table and catch up with her at the exit.

The crispy night air feels a little sobering as they both step out of the bar, heading to the nearby hotel with rushed steps, keeping their silence but they both are grinning madly. When their eyes meet they can’t push down the laughter and Harry grabs her hand before he starts running, pulling her after himself.

By the time they reach the hotel they are both out of breath, adrenaline running high once again as what’s been building up between them since the first time they saw each other is finally about to bloom fully.

Remi pushes the button for the elevator and as it moves down painfully slowly Harry’s hands find her hips, pulling her back against his chest. His lips tease the soft skin on her neck, peppering kisses everywhere he reaches while his fingers dig into her skin under her sheer top. She leans against him, head falling back to his shoulder and she pushes her bum against his crotch, a whiny moan escaping his lips that makes her smile in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Remi,” he breathes out, eager to finally have her all to himself and make all his fantasies come to life. The elevator finally dings and as the door slides open Remi turns in his arms abruptly and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt she simply pulls him inside, hand snapping on the button of his floor and just as the door slowly slides closed and they start moving up, her lips finally crash against his.

They are kissing hard, eager to take as much from each other as they can, they are both greedy, wanting the other all to themselves, the heat of the moment lighting up the small elevator. His fingers rake through her hair, grabbing a handful of it in each of them while one of her hands slide down his upper body until it stops on the obviously growing bulge in his pants. Harry moans shamelessly when she gives his erection a teasing squeeze and she smirks against his lips, satisfied with how easily he reacts to her touches.

Harry melts into her, wanting to devour every bit of this moment with her, he is seeing stars when she takes his lower lip between her teeth and tugs on it. A hand flies down to her ass and he squeezes it hard without shying about how much he is enjoying touching her.

The elevator reaches their floor and once again he grabs her wrist and starts pulling her down the hallway towards his room. Her lips are glued to his neck when he is trying to get his keycard from his back pocket and open the door, but when he finally succeeds, they basically fall into the room, tangled into each other and the door snaps closed behind them.

He is quick to push her against the door, lips attacking her neck, nipping and sucking on her skin until he is sure a mark is left on her.

“Off with it,” she pants, her hands tugging on his shirt and they work with all four of their hands to unbutton his shirt until it flies across the room. Remi pushes on him, hands spread across his hot chest as they get farther inside the room. The bump into some furniture on their way, lips glued together again until they finally reach the bed and fall right onto the perfectly made sheets. They are both showing dominance so it’s a constant fight for the lead between them, rolling around until at last Remi ends up on top, strangling his lap. She straightens up and grabs the hem of her shirt, getting rid of it fast before she does the same with her sports bra, baring her upper body completely to Harry’s greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pushing himself up until he wraps his arms around her, mouth meeting her chest, littering her heated skin with sloppy kisses until his lips reach one of her nipples.

“Yes!” she moans as he starts playing with it, his hands coming to cup her breasts, massaging them continuously before his mouth moves over to her other nipple, giving it the same attention.

Harry uses her momentary weakness and turns them over, his crotch coming in contact with her center as he pushes his hips between her legs forcefully. He kisses down her stomach before he leans back and works fast on the buttons of her jeans. The tight material hugs her legs stubbornly, but he is eager to get rid of them and he soon succeeds, leaving her in just a lacy black thong. He undoes his own pants in a heartbeat, pulling them off and throwing them to the side before he gets on top of her again, kissing her lips so hungrily as if it hasn’t been just a few moments since he kissed her last.

She whimpers under his touch when he moves a hand between her thighs, running his fingers along her clothed folds, her arousal already soaking the fabric. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand into her underwear, her juices wetting his wandering fingers and he teases her hole and clit playfully.

“You better not fucking tease me, I don’t like that,” she pants, her dark eyes meeting hers and he can see the threat behind her words, she is not joking.

“Then what do you like?” he breathes out, eager to please her so much, she’ll forget about everyone else she has ever slept with.

She doesn’t answer, instead, a devious smile tugs on her swollen lips as she pushes him off until she is able to move. Harry is now kneeling on the bed and watches as Remi pushes her ass up into the air, back arching perfectly, her thong looking so delicious on her round butt and when she pushes herself back so her behind meets her throbbing dick in his briefs he could cry from the sensation. His hands immediately grab onto her asscheeks, pulling her even harder against himself.

“Smack it,” she breathes out, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Do it,” she nods and Harry doesn’t need more encouragement, he lifts a hand up and smacks her ass so it leaves a little redness after it. Remi moans erotically, enjoying herself fully and seeing how much it turns her on, he smacks the other cheek as well.

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he whines and pushing down his briefs his erection finally springs free, he grabs it with one hand, stroking himself a few times while his other hand is keeping a tight grip of her ass.

Remi wants to see him naked, so she quickly pushes herself up to her knees and turning around her eyes fall on Harry stroking himself. Hunger fills her eyes as she launches forward, lips meeting his while her hands simply take the place of his on his length, doing the job for him.

“I’m on birth control. When were you last tested?” she mumbles against his lips before leaning back so she can get rid of her thong and Harry does the same with his underwear.

“Three weeks ago, haven’t been with anyone since and I’m clean,” he mumbles in a rush.

“I’m clean too. You can ditch the condom if you want to.” “I wanna feel you,” he pleads desperately as she lies back on the bed and he gets on top of her again.

“All yours,” she smirks, spreading her legs wide for him, the sight in front of him is easily beating any art he has ever seen, he thinks.

He positions himself to her entrance, but doesn’t push into her just yet, leaning down so his lips brush against her ear as he whispers into it.

“Let’s see if you feel just as amazing as I imagined.” And with that, he pushes into her with one swift movement, stretching her all the way until his whole length disappears inside her.

“Fuck, Harry!” she cries out, back arching at the sensation. He sucks on her neck once again as he starts moving in and out, fitting inside her so perfectly, he is convinced she was crafted just for him.

He is going fast and hard, their pants and moans completely filling the hotel room and they can only hope they can’t be heard by anyone right now. She circles her legs around his hips, the angle he is reaching making her toes curl behind his back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out, face contorting into a blissful frown as he is getting closer to his orgasm with each thrust.

“I want to be on top,” she gasps, already pushing on and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate to obey. He rolls to his back, pulling her with him so now she is on top. Her hands come to rest on his stomach as she starts riding her, circling and lifting her hips so perfectly, so breathtakingly that Harry could cum just from the sight of her bouncing on him, but the feeling is making it a mind blowing experience. His fingers dig into her hips as she is starting to move faster and faster, before Harry starts bucking his hips up to meet her rhythm as well, going so deep into her, he is having a hard time deciding where she ends and where he starts. They are completely merged together in one hot mess.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she screams gasping, her head falling back as she doesn’t fall out of her rhythm, still being such a drummer even in the bed, dictating the beat.

Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her so he can push her naked chest against his, their sweaty skins sliding against each other relentlessly, creating friction.

“Scream my name when you cum,” he orders, his lips finding hers once again, but it’s a messy kiss, their teeth are clanking, noses are bumping together as they are both nearing their high.

“Harry, oh fuck!” she exclaims and with her next movement he can feel her clench around him.

“Louder!” he growls on the edge of his own orgasm.

“Harry! Harry!” she screams shamelessly, throwing him over the edge, a guttural moan bursting from him as they both fall out of the rhythm, satisfaction washing over them in waves.

“Oh shit!” she breathes out, lips against his as she keeps him close with her hands on the base of his neck.

“Fucking Hell, Remi. I think I almost had a heart attack,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle making her laugh as well. She pulls him into another kiss, but it’s way slower now, the hunger and greed taken by their pleasure, now it’s time for something softer.

When they fall back to the bed, arms and legs tangled as they are still trying to stay close to each other, Remi looks up at him with a tired smile.

“So, was it like you imagined?” she asks and he chuckles softly.

“A thousand times better. But now we have a problem on our hands.”

“And what would that be?”

“Now I’m hooked. I won’t be able to stop thinking about you, not that it hasn’t been the situation since the start.”

Remi chuckles shortly, pushing herself up enough so she can look comfortable at his flushed out face.

“Well, it’s a good thing we are kind of locked together for months.”

“I’m one lucky man, aren’t I?” he smirks, so full of himself before he pulls her back down, kissing her like they have all the time in the world on their hands.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

814 notes · View notes

supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

It’s crossover season - Part 1

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Iron Man x TeamMate!Reader, Captain America x TeamMate!Reader, Doctor Strange x TeamMate!Reader, Thor x TeamMate!Reader, Black Widow x TeamMate!Reader, Hulk x TeamMate!Reader.

Word count: 2570.

For the Marvel fans: this is supposed to be happening between Age of Ultron and Civil War.

You’re in the living room with your moms. It’s Friday night and it’s Kara’s turn to pick the movie. It comes as no surprise when the three of you settle on the couch to watch Wizard of Oz, black and white version.

“Hey, you don’t want to miss this part!” Kara says when you stand up, so you can go to the kitchen to pick up more soda for yourself.

“You are aware this movie is not exactly new, right?” You ask and hear Lena’s chuckle in response.

“Can you get more wine for mom, baby?” Lena asks and you agree with your head, making your way to the kitchen despite Kara’s protests.

You finally picked up the soda can, wine bottle and some chocolates for the road when you hear a loud noise in the living room. You use your super speed to get there, and see Kara being pulled by a portal. But not any portal. Not Barry’s portal, or Cisco’ dimensional portals. Something completely different you never saw before.

“Momma!” You drop everything you’re holding and run to the portal, pushing Kara out of the way. So the portal sucks you in, instead.

“Kid, no!” You hear Kara’s voice and you see her on the other side, but it’s too late. Wherever this portal is heading to, you’re going.

“You’ll find me!” You yell back. And both of your moms faces disappear. “Please, find me.” You whisper.

You fall on the floor with a loud thud. You look around to four guys and one woman staring at you from across the room. You sure never saw them before. There’s a table in the middle. One of them is standing in front of it, staring right at you. He has dark hair, a weird beard style, and you can see something blue glowing on his chest, even though he is wearing a shirt. That’s guy number 1.

Guy number 2 is next to him, in much fancier and weirder clothes. He is wearing a cape (capes are lame, did he not get the memo?), and he also has a weird beard (you’re starting to think it’s fashion).

Sitting behind them is a red haired woman, all dressed in black. She has her legs up the table, giving off an ‘I don’t care about anything’ kind of vibe.

Next to her, guy number 3, is wearing a blue shirt very tight around his muscles, he is definitely the strongest, but his baby blue eyes give you the idea that he is sweet.

And last, guy number 4, is in the back. Arms crossed over, in his lab clothes and glasses. He looks like the sweet science guy.

“A kid!” Guy nº 1 says pointing at you, like no one else can see you’re sitting there in front of them. “I said: find us back-up, and you bring me a child, Strange?”

“I don’t think the child is supposed to be here.” Guy nº 2, or rather cape-guy, answers back.

“No shit, Einstein! It’s a kid!” Guy nº1 snaps back.

“Language!” You and Guy nº 3, baby blue eyes guy, make chorus.

“Great! Just what we needed, a mini Steve Rogers!”

“I’m not a kid!” You finally find something worth saying and you see some eyes rolling at that information.

“Excuse me, miss. The adults are talking.”

“Rude.” You stand up, putting your hands on your waist. “You’re the one who brought me here, mister…?”

“You don’t know who I am?” Guy nº1 asks, so full of himself.

“Should I?” Your answer makes all of his friends smile and try to cover up. He exhales, exasperated.

“I’m Tony Stark, kid.” You blink at him, like he said literally nothing. “I am Iron Man.” He answers like that sentence is supposed to impact you somehow. You shrug and look behind him. To the man with a cape.

“Doctor Strange.” He says with a nod. “I’m the one who brought you here.”

“Banner. Um, Bruce. Bruce Banner.” Lab coat guy answers. He seems sweet looking lost between these people, so you smile at him.

“Steve Rogers.” Baby-blue-eyed guy waves. “Captain America.”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The only other woman in the room adds. “Black Widow.”

“And we are the Avengers.” Mister Stark says and you bite your lips at the information. Should you know who the hell the Avengers are? You never once heard of them, and they all look too normal -except for Cape-guy- and too powerless. Although they could probably be thinking the same thing about you now, so you shouldn’t judge. For all you know, sweet small lab-coat guy in the back can be the most powerful ‘the Avengers’ of all time, and break you in half in one snap.

“Well, ‘the Avengers’ it’s very nice meeting all of you. But, well, if you all don’t mind, I would like to go back to my house and to my moms, please and thank you.” You say and Stark just sighs pointing at Strange.

“Strange, get the kid back to her moms and find someone who can really help in this fight.” He is looking less annoyed, and more tired. “We could seriously use some back-up for this.”

You furrow your brows at the sound of that. You can’t believe you’re even thinking about this, but then the words come out of your mouth before you can think twice or hold it back.

“I can be back-up.”

That could make anyone roll in their seats laughing, but they’re trying to be respectful, so Natasha covers her mouth so you don’t see her smile. Steve looks down with the same smile playing on his lips. Banner almost smiles too. Strange seems to study you for a second. But Stark is laughing hard at you. Ok, again, rude.

“What’s so funny? You said you need back-up. Cape-guy over there brought me here for a reason. I’m offering.”

“No offense kid, but you’re like 12.” Stark says and you roll your eyes.

“Offense very much taken, I’m 16!”

“Yes, well, you’re still a child who wants to go back to her mommies.” He mocks you, making you squint your eyes at him.

“Mister Stark, sir. May I ask what your powers are?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” He says with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, that’s it?” It’s time for you to smirk back. “I get now why you need back-up.”

“WOW!” That’s what leaves the whole group’s mouths.

“She’s got you there, Tony.” Banner chimes in, and you smile at yourself proudly.

“Oh really? What are your powers, smart mouth?” He asks thinking he has won, and that only makes you sorry for him.

“Genius, billionaire, I can’t really say that I’m a playboy, but I am a philanthropist.” Your smile comes after your feet leave the floor. “Also, I can fly.”

“So can most of the team.”

“Oh, then I guess most of the team also have super strength, super speed, freeze breath, heat vision, x-ray vision, invulnerability and draw their energies from the sun.”

“Holy shit.” Natasha says and you smile when you look at everyone’s impressed face.

“I think the child is supposed to be here.” Strange says and you agree with your head.

“She’s still a kid.” It’s what Stark says. “Cap, care to jump in here?”

Baby-blue-eyed guy stands up, walking towards you with a soft smile on his face. You smile back, landing on the floor.

“Ever been in a battle, kid?” He asks.

“Sure!” It’s what your mouth says, but deep inside you’re thinking this is insane. They didn’t want you; they didn’t go for you. They wanted your momma, who has real battle experience. You fought empty spaceships and won. Yay you. You have literally no other experience besides this one.

“Can you give us a minute?” Cap asks and you agree with your head, watching them going back to the table and closing the door in front of you. You sit on the floor, waiting for their decision. You want them to want you. It’s a weird feeling, but you want to be needed and respected, especially for your powers, since you don’t have a lot of that going around back home. But at the same time, you feel very scared of walking into a battle (is what he called, right?) with people who could definitely be your parents.

“She’s a kid, you guys can’t be seriously considering this.”

“She has more powers than all of us together, Tony.”

“You didn’t care about that when you recruited Wanda.”

“Wanda walked in on this by herself. Strange, how did we end up with a kid?”

“My magic was to bring someone powerful enough to help. She’s here. Which means she is powerful enough, otherwise the portal wouldn’t have pulled her here. I wasn’t aiming for a kid, but if a kid is what we got, we have to make-do.”

“I agree. She can be helpful.”

“Cap?”

“I don’t know guys, she-she looks twelve.”

“Steve gets it!”

“But she isn’t. She is sixteen. And she wants to help.”

“She is invulnerable, you know.”

“Fine, let’s take a vote. Who thinks the smart mouth should stay?”

You lower your glasses to see their hands. Natasha, Cap, Bruce and Strange raise their hands. You smile proud of yourself. Yeah! But also, no! Did you seriously just walk in a battle -that has nothing to do with you- on purpose?

The door opens a while later and you stand up, looking at ‘the Avengers’ on the other side. You have the biggest smile on your face.

“Oh, did I forget to mention I have super hearing?” You raise one eyebrow, and Stark sighs.

“Of course you do.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you even have a superhero name?”

“I’m Superkid.”

“It has kid in the name, I can’t take her seriously.” He bites back and looks around. “Come on, Strange, let’s try to get Thor back.”

“Wait.” You run after the two of them. “Mister Cape-guy, can you, um, just tell my moms I’m safe?”

“Don’t worry.” He reassures you. “I left a card.”

They resume walking and you look back at the rest of the team, still staring at you. You take a deep breath, and walk back to where they are.

“So, where am I?” You ask, looking at Cap, who just looks dumbfounded by your question.

“You’re on Earth, Superkid.”

“Right.” You laugh. “I meant, which Earth?”

“You mean there is more than one Earth?” Natasha asks and you shake your head agreeing.

“There are infinite Earths in the Multiverse.” You say, pulling up a chair and sitting across from them. “Mine is Earth-38, and the Flash lives on Earth-1, and the Titans on Earth-9, my cousin just joined. Oh, and there’s obviously Earth-X governed by the Nazis-”

“Wait, let me stop you right there.” Cap says, looking shocked by your revelations. “There’s an Earth where the Nazis won?”

“Well, Mister Cap, that’s what the multiverse is all about, isn’t it?” You clasp your hands in front of your body. “When a diversion event occurs, then a new Earth is created. Maybe you have a different name for that here, like alternative or parallel universe.” You look at Banner. “Elseworlds?”

“Right. Pardon us.” Cap says with a smile. “Well, Banner, I believe that big- brain of yours, is filled with questions for our big-brained guest. Don’t let us keep you from it. Nat and I will go get Sam, Bucky and Wanda.”

You wait for the two other Avengers to leave, and you look back at Bruce, finally sitting on the table.

“That’s a lot of people. Mister Stark, Cape-guy, Cap, Natasha, Thor, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, you…” You startle yourself when you count all of them on your fingers. That’s a hell of a team, bigger than the Justice League for sure.

“And it’s not even half of it.” He adds to your confusion.

“That’s a lot of super-heroes for only one Earth.” You look at him with puzzling eyes. “What is your super power, Mister Banner?”

“I-well-” He shuffles around looking embarrassed to say it. “You’ll see in a bit, I suppose.”

“Ok.” You decide to let it go; you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. “What are we up against?”

Apparently, you’re up against alien invasion. You make sure you ask a couple times (or more), if the aliens are actually evil, without informing you’re an alien too. But yes, a bad horde of aliens coming to this Earth very, very soon.

Banner has about 20 questions about the Multiverse. You try your best to explain to him what you know about it, but it seems like this time you’re not even in the same Multiverse. Is there a multiverse of a multiverse?

Talking to Banner is great. He knows so much; you feel dumb around him. Is this how Jamie and Maya feel when you’re explaining something a little too far from their grasp? You don’t know how much time you two are bonding over science, when you hear a thunder sound and lightning falling close to where you are, and run to the window to check what’s going on. Soon, you see a guy, hammer in hand with lightning coming out of it. You look back at Banner, who smiles shyly.

“That would be Thor.”

“Can I?” You point at the window. You don’t know exactly why you’re asking for permission. You just don’t want to seem impolite.

“Of course.” He says and you open the window flying to where Thor is. Oh, he is strong. And he looks extremely powerful. You can’t control the excitement when he turns to you.

“New member?” He asks and you shrug as your answer. “I am Thor, son of Odin.”

“Superkid, daughter of Kara and Lena?”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Superkid-daughter-of-Kara-and-Lena.” Thor says with a puppy smile on his face. He puts his hammer on the ground and looks to the people coming from behind you to greet him. “Ready for battle?”

He reminds you so much of Kara. Puppy smile, blond hair, kind of dorky. You smile too, feeling your heart burst in excitement.

“I am now, Mister Thor.”

He pushes his cape out of his way, smile still on his lips, making his way inside the compound. You look at the way he walks, his muscles, long hair and red cape flying behind him. Wait, have you once said capes are lame? You take it back. Capes are the coolest! You look at his hammer on the ground with puzzling eyes.

“Mister Thor!” You call for him. He turns around to look at you, and the rest of the team also stops to watch you. You walk to the hammer, picking it up from the floor, and pointing at him. “You’ve left your hammer!”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Post-credit scene:

“Oh, how polite, they left a card.” Lena picks it up from the floor. “They kidnapped our daughter and left a card.”

“What does it say?” Kara asks, standing up from the floor, where she has been crying for the past two minutes.

“177A, Bleecker St. New York.”

“They left a puzzle?” Kara takes the card away from Lena’s hand. “They took my daughter and left a puzzle? What kind of villain does that?”

“It’s an address, Kara.” Lena holds her shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find her.”

Notes:

So @oncemoonie prompted a marvel crossover and I am having so much fun with this, I hope you guys are too, cause more is coming!

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #lena luthor #supercorpfamily #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp daughter #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #thor odinson #bruce banner #tony stark #natasha romanoff #doctor strange #steve rogers

241 notes · View notes

theprettiestlamb · 2 years

Text

Welcome Home, Soldier [Part 3]

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size SE Asian F!OC

Word Count: 3489

Description: Amelie and Bucky go home.

Warnings: angst, fluff, description of wounds, mention of blood, body insecurities, self-hate, cursing, Bucky being flirty, pet names (doll, baby doll)

Tags: @mysoftboybensolo, @maria-chwan, @lokiskitten, @caffeinated-fan

*** If anyone wants to be tagged, just leave a comment or dm me!

I do not consent to my work being copied, translated or reposted on another website.

The expression he gave was one she knew. It was how he looked during one of their dates.

Amelie watched the men enjoying their drinks at the tavern across the street. “I’m scared.”

She gulped as she watched a young man with his friends. He was chatting excitedly, the light in his eyes still bright with life.

Replacements.

It broke her heart knowing it was only a matter of time until she would see one of them covered in blood and dirt, groaning in pain from an injury, calling for his mother.

“Me, too,” Bucky replied.

She glanced at her hand, the back of which was warm from his.

“I’m scared that I won’t make it through this… that—“ his voice got low. “That I’ll never see my family again. That I’ll never see you again.”

“Bucky…” Amelie switched the position of their hands so hers was on top, her fingers curled between his hand and the table they sat at.

He sniffed and mustered a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grin. “And no one’s gonna stop Steve from getting his ass kicked.”

She breathed a laugh and returned to feeling sad, now more for him than herself.

“I trust that you will,” she closed her eyes for a moment to hold her own feelings back. “I’ll be here with you through everything. I can’t change the course of wherever this is going, but whatever I can do, I’ll do it. For you.”

Silence befell them.

“Including protecting Steve myself,” Amelie smiled meekly. “He sounds like a great guy. And he’s definitely lucky to have a friend like you.”

He returned the gesture, his eyes going from her hand to her face.

“I don’t think he’d know what to do with himself if he ever found out a dame said that about him,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head.

It was short-lived when he realized he had neglected her initial comment.

“But what are you scared of?”

Amelie shrugged one shoulder. “Pretty much the same thing. I don’t have family or friends. But I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t, doll,” he lifted her hand and kissed a knuckle. “We’ll get through this together.”

“I thought about it and… you don’t have to tell me anything. It must’ve been so hard for you—“

“Where to?” the cab driver asked the couple reflected on his rearview mirror.

Bucky stated his address and settled in as the car started.

Amelie stayed silent, allowing him the chance to talk if he wanted. While she did question how any of this was possible, she didn’t want to cut open what was just starting to heal.

Did she really need to know? Probably not. It should be enough that he’s here with her.

She nuzzled her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes, noting the subtle scent of seawater emanating from his coat.

“Tired?” Bucky asked, amused.

Amelie nodded.

Just as she was going to fall asleep, he gave her shoulder a light squeeze, prompting her to squint out the window, the rest of her body unmoving.

“Are we there?” she asked, groggily.

“Almost,” he watched the city life play out in front of him.

The sidewalk was like one long wall of civilians, dotted with the men he had traveled with.

A look of content graced his face when he felt Amelie’s hand on his, where it remained on her shoulder. Her fingertips lightly caressed the veins on the back of his hand. His muscles relaxed slightly and he turned to her.

“I wanna tell you. An abridged version, at least.”

The driver pulled up in front of a housing unit, parked, and went around back to pop the trunk.

Bucky swung the backseat door closest to the curb open and stepped out before offering his hand to his partner, who graciously took it and followed him out.

She pulled the strap of her purse over her head, securing it over her body while he paid the driver and picked up his own things.

Once the cab drove off, they surveyed the front of the elongated, red brick structure with sixteen windows in a 4x4 grid.

“Nothing’s changed much so far,” Bucky mused, taking in some more detail, then offering his unoccupied arm to Amelie.

They walked into the main entrance where they were met with a staircase.

From the above floors, she sensed activity from the tenants, mostly through footsteps and loud chatter. There was a putrid stench lingering about in the hall, the cause she couldn’t even begin to pinpoint.

She stopped at the landing, loosening her hold on his arm to accommodate the height difference between them from his stance three steps up.

“I just want you to know something,” Amelie got in front of him, on the same step and took his hand. “You can tell me however much you want to today. Whether or not you choose to reveal the whole thing three days later or three decades later… I’ll always be around to hear it.”

Bucky stood still, then took small strides to close the gap between them.

Amelie inhaled, tasting his lips on hers again. She snaked her hands up his arms and past his shoulders, onto the back of his neck. Her fingers brushed whatever hair wasn’t covered by his cap.

She squeaked when he backed her onto the wall behind her, his hands on her hips, followed by arms circling her waist.

There was a tingle between her legs, the implications of which she tried not to think too much about. She was at least thankful for the wall holding her up when her knees got weak.

After what seemed like hours to her, he broke the kiss and his hands drew back from her waist.

“C’mon, doll,” he smiled that dreamy smile, eyes beautifully shining even under the dim—and occasionally flickering—hall light. “We’ll get more comfortable inside.”

—

On the second floor, Bucky knocked on one of two dark wood doors on the right side of the corridor.

When no answer was given, he knocked again.

“Mom? Dad? Becca?” he called.

They waited a few minutes. Receiving no response, he reached up to the top of the door frame and felt around for something.

He snatched up a key and used it to unlock the door. It made a sound not unlike a mouse’s cry when he swung it inwards.

“Maurice still didn’t oil that?” he grumbled, then shrugged it off.

Amelie went in, shutting the door behind her and turning the lock. She pulled her cap off, smoothed her hair down and turned back around.

Bucky slowly gravitated towards the kitchen, which prompted her to follow and stop at his side, angling her head back to follow his gaze.

A white banner hung from the ceiling, spanning above the icebox and stove. The writing was, no doubt, that of a child. Written in block letters in black crayon, the banner read:

Welcome Home, Soldier!

“Aww!” Amelie gushed and got on her toes, bringing her puckered lips to his cheek.

On the kitchen table, there was a note.

When he picked it up and brought it closer to read, she saw it was a letter for him.

Not wanting to intrude, she opted to browse the family portraits on the living room wall.

The largest one was in a square frame, displaying a formal photo of the Barnes’s—mother, father, Bucky and his four younger sisters. It looked as if it was taken shortly before the war, possibly in hopes of capturing their last moment together as a family, should the only son not return home.

To the right were two smaller pictures. On the top, the family patriarch stood with Bucky as a little boy around 5 years old. The one underneath showed a teenaged version of him sitting on a bed of grass. He was flanked by two sisters, one of who appeared to be putting a flower in their brother’s hair.

Amelie laughed at the unamused look on the boy’s face. She jumped when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Did ya hear what I said, doll?” he asked and looked down at her. “Sorry.”

She hummed and rested her hands on his, which were crossed over her tummy.

“No, I didn’t,” she twisted her upper body and craned her neck so she was eye-to-eye with him. “What did you say?”

“I said everyone’s in Indiana, visiting some friends of the family. So we have the place to ourselves for a little more than a week,” he said.

“That’s great,” Amelie turned so her whole body faced him. “I don’t mean it like that. Not at all. I’m excited to meet them. I just need time prepare myself. And—“

Her rambling stopped when she saw his boyish grin.

“I-I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked, then planted her forehead onto his necktie. “You can always stop me, you know!”

Bucky laughed and left one hand on her lower back, the other cradled the back of her head, pulling her into his arms.

“I love seeing you talk,” he leaned his head down so his lips brushed her ear.

“I can make some other pretty sounds come outta you,” he whispered, smirk in his words evident to her.

She hopped back and playfully slapped his arm. “Bucky!”

Her thighs squeezed together under her khaki skirt.

“Unless you don’t want to…”

“I do. But weren’t you going to tell me about how you’re still here in one piece?”

With that, he solemnly nodded and motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa.

—

“You said you didn’t feel anything when Steve brought you back to camp.”

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, there were other guys who needed the care more than I did.”

“Bucky, you got injected with something you didn’t even know. There could’ve been some nasty side effects to whatever was in there!”

“Then I’d be pulled off the line when Steve needed me.”

She knew how inseparable they were. The only thing that came between them was a goddamn world war.

Even if Steve hadn’t arrived and assembled the Howling Commandos, she knew in her heart Bucky would never abandon the others.

“I would’ve been studied like a lab rat while everyone else was doing the fighting,” he adds with a frown. “But it happened anyway after… you know.”

She nodded and hugged him, holding him there for as long as he would allow. “That’s when you knew?”

He sniffed, letting tears trail down his cheeks. “The doctors said it probably wasn’t the same serum given to Steve. That that Hydra doctor made his own version and tested it on me.”

After some silence, he sat her on his lap and buried his face in her shoulder. In turn, her arms looped around his neck, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“It wasn’t your fault, Bucky,” her voice was just above a whisper. “I know you’re scared.”

His eyes clenched shut, grip on her waist similar to how she had him at the docks.

She stayed silent but kept him in her arms.

“They were saying how amazed they were that I only had a broken arm and a head injury that was more superficial than expected from something like that. I thought I was gonna die… but then I started to heal,” he recounted. “Physically, anyway.”

Amelie squished her cheek onto his hair. “I’ll help you heal everywhere else. I’ll always be here.”

He pulled back enough to make eye contact with her.

“God, I love you,” he said before kissing her passionately.

“I love you, too,” she breathed between kisses.

She held him back with her hands on his chest, eyes opened. “You want to get settled in, just relax? I need to take a bath first. The sun was merciless!”

He smiled and moved his hands to the couch cushions. “I’ll go after you. It’s out in the hall, first door to the left.”

Amelie gave a distracted ‘okay’ as she rummaged through her bag for some toiletries she’d swiped from the last hospital she worked at.

“I can lend you some of my clothes,” he rose from his seat and retrieved two full-length towels from a supply closet, bringing them to her.

With a bar of soap, comb and a handkerchief, she took the towels and placed her things on top.

“If they fit, anyway,” Amelie said, more to herself than him.

She always knew she would never fill a partner’s clothes the way all the pretty and slim women could.

Instead of accentuating small, dainty features, she would stretch his shirts and trousers like a big ball of molding clay tightly wrapped in cellophane.

“They will and you’ll look cute as always,” Bucky reassured brightly. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked and the clothes out here. Just come find me when you’re done.”

She nodded gratefully and stepped out of the parlor, into the hall.

With the towels rolled up in one hand, she stopped at a door labelled “W.C.” in yellow lettering across frosted glass.

Once she knocked and confirmed its vacancy, she pushed the handle and slipped in.

While she ran the bath, she wet the handkerchief, using it to remove her makeup.

Seeing the tub filled a little more than halfway, Amelie began to undress. She put her clothes down on a table, next to where she set the towels.

Left in her undergarments, she caught a glimpse of her back in the mirror.

Framed perfectly by the straps of her bra was a scar near her shoulder blades left by a stitch. Surrounding it were dots of smaller scars, which have healed significantly better.

She winced, the memory of the day so vivid, she could feel the hot metal shards piercing her flesh.

Great. Add that to the list of things on my body that would repulse Bucky, she shook her head and got in the bath after checking the temperature.

He’s been with a lot of girls, he’d know what a ‘real body’ looked like, Amelie thought to herself while soaping up her drenched hair. But those girls are actually beautiful. Unlike you.

“Shut up, shut up!” she hissed at herself, closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.

“Just finish up and go,” she told herself. “People are probably waiting.”

—

Amelie entered the parlor again and put her clothes down by her purse.

Having dried her hair off enough that it was damp, the only towel she used was covering her body.

On the arm of the sofa was a white button shirt and a pair of blue shorts.

She inspected the two articles of clothing before pulling a vest and brief panties rolled up in her bag. The former was going to save her in the event the shirt was too tight. The shorts weren’t as much a concern, as she predicted, they’ll stop past her knees, maybe even mid-calf, due to her small stature.

She was alone in the room and the only window was a sliver of glass where two kitchen walls met, but it faced a brick wall.

With this in mind, she pulled her clothes on first and then his.

She breathed out, relieved, upon securing the last button and finding that she did, in fact, have room to move around comfortably in it.

After drying her hair more and running her comb through it, she wandered into the kitchen and through the only other entryway there.

There were two small beds next to each other and a cardboard box of toys in the corner—undoubtedly the girls’ room.

From where she stood, Amelie spotted a worn, but obviously loved, doll sitting up in the box.

She smiled at it and returned to her original search. “Bucky?”

There was another room connected to the one she was in.

“Bucky? I’m d—“ she walked in, hand on the door frame and feet stilled just as quick as her words.

He was on the opposite side of the room, his back to her.

On a nearby chair, he had arranged the components of his uniform with care: cap, tie and coat on the back; shirt and undershirt piled on the seat.

Amelie could swear the pink on her cheeks deepened at the sound of his trousers slipping down his legs.

“You were saying, doll?”

She didn’t know how long she was staring at the defined muscles of his backside, but she snapped out of any impure thoughts arising and moved her eyes to his face.

He was looking at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow up in question.

“Uh… I-I’m done,” she stammered.

There was something different in those familiar blue eyes now as he turned on his heel, showing the front of his body to her. Besides the patch of hair on his chest, there wasn’t a mark on him. It was as if he hadn’t fallen at all.

He folded his pants and tossed them onto the chair with his shirts, turning his head only slightly to ensure it made it where he intended.

“I’ll be right back, then,” he flashed a devious smirk her way and went to leave.

She backed up against the wall to get out of his path, but she didn’t pass her like she’d expected. He seemed to, then backtracked.

Staring her down to her lips, he licked his own.

Amelie looked down and brought her knees together, tending to the arousal blossoming in her core.

“No need to be shy, baby doll,” he curled his index finger under her chin and gently tipped it upwards. “Or did you forget that special night we shared?”

While she processed the low, raspy tone of his inquiry, he took in the woman before him.

She gasped. “Bucky! What are you—“

He cradled her face in his hands and silenced her with a kiss.

Feeling the tension melt away in his touch, he rested his thumb on her bottom lip.

“I know I said I wanted to wait, but thinking about it now…” Bucky whispered. “Neither of us knows what’ll happen to me. What if we never get the chance?”

“Bu—“

“Listen. I know it’s sudden, but I… I’ve got nothing special to give you. No fancy jewelry or anything. I wanna give this to you”

He watched the gears turning in her eyes. She moved out of his grasp, chest visibly rising and falling.

“Here?” her eyes darted to the sleeping nurses hidden in the shadows casted by the moon.

Bucky nodded hesitantly, now unsure of the idea himself.

“Doll, I know it’s crazy a-and I know I’m asking so much in a small window of time…”

Amelie gave him a look as if to say, You don’t say?’

“Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. No questions asked,” he held her hands. “You want me to stay, I’ll stay. You ask me to leave, I’m outta here. Hell, I’ll stay and we can just sit together for a while. I don’t care, doll. Whatever makes you happy.”

After much consideration, she held his cheeks like he did hers earlier.

“First of all, you don’t need to buy me anything. Just love me, Bucky.”

“I do, Amelie. So, so much. Whether or not we do anything now. I love you all the same.”

She smiled, tight-lipped to hold back the wave of emotions building up.

“Second, how did you even make it here? What did you tell the men?”

“That I was gonna take a piss,” a small laugh bubbled up his chest.

Amelie removed his helmet and kissed his cheek.

“Then we better get to it,” she said in a more hushed manner, for his ear alone.

When she got back on her haunches, Bucky gaped at her with eyes wide enough to show more whites. His peachy cheeks flushed.

His lips parted when she left soft, lingering kisses along his neck.

“Oh, I’m taking my time with you,” he hummed. “You can bet on that.”

The sensation of her warm hand on his groin made him perk up and take her wrist.

“Is this what you really want? You can back out. You can always back out. You have my word,” he looked at her intensely.

She nodded. “I want this. I want you.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Amelie batted her eyelashes. “But it has been, what? Two, three years?”

He put his hand down and had one foot out in the direction he was going previously.

“I’ll be more than happy to bring you up to speed,” he winked and walked away.

She saw a hint of a satisfied smile on his face.

The bastard.

He was about to exit his sisters’ room when he called back to her.

“Go on, doll. Make yourself comfortable. It’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

#Marvel #James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Sergeant Barnes #Sebastian Stan #Bucky Barnes x F!reader #Bucky Barnes x plus size reader #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Bucky Barnes x plus size OC #Bucky Barnes x SE Asian!OC #my fics #my writing #mine

16 notes · View notes

velvet-apricots · 2 years

Text

Tarnished Ivory: Revamp

A Gideon Ofnir x Original Fem!Tarnished fic.

A more comprehensive and put together version of the original Tarnished Ivory. Can be read in cunjunction with the original. Mostly written to explore Gideon Ofnir’s thoughts and evolution of his feelings for the Tarnished.

SFW, only vague mention of spicy content.

Warnings: Gideon is very manipulative

She was in over her head, Gideon mused, watching as the girl sobbed her eyes out, curled up and hidden in a dark corner. He felt pity for her, and also disgust. Another sub par tarnished to stain the reputation of the hold.

Fyra was, first and foremost, a farm girl. A dairy maid who at most knew how to hit a feral dog with a stick to keep it away from livestock. He had seen many girls like her in his life. The fact her ancestors had once been the tarnished who had left alongside Godfrey was always shocking to him.

“Father, have you heard?”

Gideon was pulled from his musings about their newest tarnished, glancing over his shoulder at Nepheli, who held a plate of food for him. “Heard what?”

“Godrick the Grafted is dead. The new one… Fyra. She killed him.”

Gideon turned back to the sobbing girl, no older than his daughter but significantly more weak looking. “She killed Godrick? He must have been weaker than I thought.”

“Nay. He grafted a dragon to his arm in the fight. I helped her, as best as I could. She killed him.”

“Why has she not spoken to the two fingers like I advised?”

“Father, look at her. Let her be, I will direct her to them when she’s ready.”

‘What even happened?”

“After Godrick she parted ways, saying she needed to help Rogier with something.” Nepheli explained, “Something happened.It was hard to tell from the crying. She came back with him on her back. He’s not doing well. You may wish to check on him.”

Rogier was in Fia’s room, pale and sweating as she dabbed at his face. The room had a smell to it. Not rancid, but bordering on it. Gideon lifted the sheet over his legs, stomach twisting at the sight of them.

Black vines were sprouting from his skin, which was milky and discolored, seeping liquid. The smell was coming from them. His legs were on the verge of beginning to rot, not with gangrene, but with the unique rot of the deathblight. A half decaying, half living rot, that would cause a foul stench wherever he was. It would hurt at first, but in time the pain would fade, the only mercy the condition would give him.

“I am sorry, Sir… I think I will become even more of a vagrant after this.” Rogier said weakly, smiling at him with a bit of humor.

The man had been nothing but a vagrant for ages before this. He was too smart to be useful as a subordinate, and too soft too. And the fact he could not see the grace….

Still, he did not deserve this. Gideon put the blanket back over his legs. “Never you mind. Resting is all you should be doing.”

It was an empty request. Rest would not fix this. Only immortality the lost grace had given them would, but once a tarnished lost sight of the grace, the resurrections became half of what they were, unable to rid the body of festering diseases like scarlet rot, or rid the body of the corruption the deathblight caused.

The man would die… A regrettable thing.

“Don’t worry about Fyra’s crying, sir. I know you hate it. I will-”

“I said rest. I will deal with it.”

Rogier looked a little surprised, but nodded silently.

Fyra had always been quiet, almost strangely so, bordering on muteness. He figured it was trauma induced, given how weak her disposition was. She Had a rather gastly scar across her neck, which she often touched when she was about to speak. It had to do with that wound. That was the wound, he knew that much. But how she got it and why… Well he didn’t need to know everything about her.

He wished now her mutness covered her crying.

She was not crying as hard now at least, and so approached her, crouching down beside her despite the protesting of his knees, “Tell me what happened to Rogier.”

She whipped her eyes and nose off on her sleeve, snuffling. “There was something in the depths of the castle.” Fyra blubbered, “it was… A face. A twisted horrible face with golden hair. He got close and… It attacked him, or something.”

“He was death blighted. It sounds like the body of Godwyn the Golden.” Gideon said, “His corpse has been festering in the roots of the Erdtree ever since the shattering… But he was not interned under Stormveil… How curious.”

“Fia says he will die. It will kill him. I don’t want to be alone… he’s my only friend.” Fyra sobbed, wiping her eyes as the tears and snot started up again. She looked disgusting like this, erasing any of the charm she had in her face. He took his cloak sleeve in hand, and dabbed at her snot and tears. Normally he would not have done such a thing, but his cloak was due for a laundry, and she really looked unsightly.

He also, as Rogier said, despised crying.

He gave her an attempt at comfort. If she killed Godrick, she was valuable, even if she was a crybaby. A girl this fragile would easily be led how he wanted with a tender hand. “You are not alone, and he is not your only friend. My daughter, the one who helped you, she is a compatriot is she not? And you run to Fia so often.” He dropped his cloak like it was toxic, thankful his armor kept it from touching his skin, “There is also myself. I will guide you as much as I can.”

She gave him a look. He would call it doe eyed. Big and wet. He gave her cheek a pat then, making her blink and get out of her momentary stupor. “Now no crying. You are a shardbearer. Do you think they cry? Go, speak with the Two Fingers. I will tell you where to go next after that.”

—-

She was flirting with him.

Gideon knew women decently well, at least he liked to think that. Though never married in his first life, he had his fair share of mistresses and affairs. He had been handsome once, young and virile, and while never obsessed with sex, never one to turn it down.

As such, he noticed that rather soon after his little pep talk and offer of gentle guidance, Fyra started flirting. SHowing her neck more, wearing more girly clothing, looking at him from under her lashes, and her voice was, though still quiet, sweeter when she spoke to him

He did not know why. Sure, he was a commanding presence, an authority figure. But he was old, and yes, rather rude at times. Most days he repelled those around him more than attracted them. She would have certainly been better off flirting with Diallos, who was dashing and receptive to flirting.

Though, he had seemed…. Distracted recently. More broody than normal.Broody was Darian’s thing, and Diallos, though desperate to be a hero, was never a broody man.

It must have been the timing. His attempt at being a dependable calming mentor figure in a moment of fear was the reason. It was clear his tender hand had gotten her amorous affections. That had not been his intention, but it added a little more to his hold over her.

He would be a fool to deny her, and so he reciprocated the flirting. He was a little rusty, but that did not matter. It worked. Her tan cheeks flushed a dusky rose as he said an innuendo, touching her face to brush a bit of her hair out of the way. He spoke a little lower, leaning into her ear as he made an offer.

Young women were very easy to rile up.

Soon after he took her to his bed, intending to make use of her until she had no use any more

–

She was not as easy to control as he thought.

She and Nepheli both had killed his men, Ensha being the most… unfortunate, though deserved. Nepheli had been cast out by him, and that in turn got her ire.

“She is your daughter!”

“Foster daughter.” Gideon said, and she looked even more furious.

“That makes no difference!”

“It does to me.” Gideon said firmly, “She’s not blood. She is of no use to me now, and so-”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” Fyra snarled.

Gideon froze. She knew the true proverb? Well well… She had a brain on her. Her country accent and humble birth was not a detriment to her smarts… That made her dangerous. “Indeed… That is true. However, as I am sure you are aware, that changes nothing”

Fyra was stunned into silence.

“Do not take me wrong. I love my daughter, but this is my work. Making one of us Elden Lord, commanding the tarnished, gathering information… Anything that puts that in danger is not something I can afford to have in my graces. It is lonely, being in this line of work. And it causes me to make terrible choices, and make many sacrifices.”

The girl was soft hearted and easily swayed by feelings of pity, empathy, and sympathy. And so he easily turned it all around, making his actions seem more like a terrible but noble sacrifice. There were grains of truth to it all of course, but he didn’t feel any remorse for what he did.

Though she was still clearly disapproving of his actions,she accepted them, her desire to see the good in everything winning out over all senses of logic. “And the business with Ensha. I give you, dear fyra, my apologies. He acted without consulting me. I had no desire to have him attack you.”

That much was true. Yes he wanted the haligtree medallion, but Fyra was a suitable holder of it. He looked down at his papers again, before looking up, offering genuine concern for her. “Did he hurt you badly?”

Fyra avoided looking at him, her silence returning. She shook her head, clenching and unclenching her fists.

“Good…. And do not fret, you will help Nepheli find her place again.”

Her hands relaxed, and she gave a determined stare at him, silently declaring that she would.

He could not make her wise to him, to lose faith in him like Nepheli had. She was the golden egg. The ray of hope, far more valuable than his own daughter. With her they could at least force their way onto the throne of elden lord, regardless of Marika’s will. She was rapidly approaching Vyke in her conquests.

Hopefully she would not fall into madness as he had.

“How is Rogier doing?’ Gideon asked, poking at a tender spot to sadden her and bring her back to him fully.

It worked. She instantly got upset, and he offered her his company to ease her pain. She mumbled a “you are still an arse” to him, but didn’t refuse his embrace, nor the kiss he spared her..

—

Fyra was fascinating, in how she found beauty in everything, even in this shattered hopeless state of the world. She spoke of a man who made boiled prawns and talked like he made the finest cuisine. She even, much to his surprise, called Gideon beautiful.

Yes, maybe once when he had been young, women had fawned at him, thought him such a handsome man, beautiful even, but his beauty had faded long ago, long before the shattering.

But fyra saw it still. She looked past his withered skin and saw something good in him. She saw the world like a little girl, who believed in happy endings and true love. Those did not exist. They never did.

What would she think, he wondered, if she knew his boasting of becoming Elden Lord was only a farce, that he had lost hope long ago?

It was… sweet. He liked it, even if it was infuriating at times. Her tenderness that had once been something he looked down on had become her most defining feature, a unique perspective on the world that he had never had.

He did not want to see that sweetness fade, be tarnished by the hardships she would soon face, the sacrifices the road she chose would force her to make. She had already lost Rogier, caused the death of D, and perhaps even more that he was not aware of, as she had grown more and more quiet, talking less and less.

She had managed to worm her way into his heart, and seat herself in there firmly. It had been a long time since he cared so genuinely for another, not since Dolores.

Caring so deeply and genuinely was a detriment, but he was confident in his ability to cast it all aside as he had before, no matter how he felt.

—-

She said nothing to him. She simply cried, ashes smeared on her face, the hold smoldering above them. She had burned her maiden, the woman Melina. The fake maiden who had remained a final, only friend on Fyra’s journey.

Sure, she had a few friends left. Nepheli in her castle, Roderika, and the little demi-human seamster… But Melina was something different. She had been her maiden, even if she was a false one.

He had become very aware how empty the hold had become. Only Hewg and Roderika were left,and of course himself.

Nothing he said or did made her stop crying. As they lay in his bed, holding one another in a post sex hase, Fyra kissing him over and over again, she still sniffled.

What was the point of all of this? So what if there would soon be a path burned into the Erdtree? It was not like they would succeed. For however far Fyra had come, one could not kill a god. A demigod, sure, for they were partially mortal still. But a god?

Not even Marika, for she herself was still but a woman. But to kill the Greater Will itself… Marika’s desire was impossible. Still he clung to some small shred of hope, hope in Fyra.

When he stepped out to fetch water for the two of them, he stared at the table of lost grace.

He had been one of the few Tarnished who had still been able to see the lost grace. But now… The table was just a table covered in swords, and there was no glow.

The grace had, after so long, abandoned him.

And so he fell. Not to madness, but despair. The shred of hope he had in Fyra vanished, and now it seemed nothing could save them from their fate. They were fated to fight, war and squabble forever it seemed.

Perhaps that was what Queen Marika wanted.

Fyra did not fall into the despair he did. The fires of ambition burned in her still, and she saw the grace still. But he simply could not have what little remained of her sweetness be tarnished by the simple fact it would never happen. That all she lost was for nothing at all.

It was an irrational decision, not very much like him. But he waited, and did his duty, detached himself from his feelings as he had many times before.

He would kill her until she gave up her foolish dream of being Elden Lord, until her ambitions were extinguished and she lost sight of the grace. It would still rob her of her sweetness, but having a villain, a big bad to blame, was better than the soul crushing despair he felt. The realization she killed Melina for nothing would destroy her far more than him turning on her and blocking her path.

—-

He had lost, but he was not dead.

Fyra had saved him, despite everything. He had told her everything, made it so clear he had never believed in her, never loved her, never cared. He had tried so hard to make her lose her hope, her ambition.

But he failed.

She cried again. Gods, he despised her crying, not only because it was annoying, but because he now hated to see her cry. She said nothing to him, only cried as she made him drink from her flask of tears, just enough to heal his fatal wounds. She clutched his hand tightly, placed a ring on his finger, like a wife would do to her husband on her wedding day.

It was a vow. A vow he did not deserve. She would not leave him behind when she became Elden Lord. She would not be like Radagon who abandoned Rennala. She would be consort queen, and he… While he did not know his title, would be at her side.

She took him then to what had once been Marika’s chambers, and was surprised to find Morgott alive still, tended to by perfumers.

“What have ye done?! Thou hast burned it!” the half dead Morgott snarled, ignoring the perfumers who fussed at him for lashing out, “Thou hast destroyed everything! Broke it even more then it was! Curse thee foul Tarnished and thy ambitions.”

Fyra started crying again, and through her tears, she smiled, showing it to them. A rune. A mending rune of a perfected order.

She then spoke the last words Gideon would hear her say for a very long time. “I will fix it, and I will make it better. I promise. Please believe in me.”

“Well well, who would hast thought the frail little farm girl from the ship would come so very far?”

It was too much to comprehend, for his addled mind. Godfrey, first Elden Lord, stood among them. He bade his omen son a tender touch and greeting, then turned to Fyra, the spectral lion upon his shoulders snarling.

“Tis a pretty rune. When I defeat thee, I shall use it. Be assured, tarnished. Thoust hard work will not go to waste” Godfrey assured her, “Come, Marika and the Elden Ring are both close at hand.”

Fyra left with him for the Erdtree. She clearly did not want to kill him, but Godfrey was fabled as a man who would never settle for simply losing. He would either win, or he would die. There was no other way.

Just another stain on her already growing despair.

—---

It was a long week. No word or change. The tree had long extinguished, and Morgott, well enough to stand, was trying to salvage the now ashen Capital, commanding his army to clean the ashes from the city, saving trapped civilians.

Gideon helped. He had connections still, and though he had no army, he had ways to get what was needed. He called for Nepheli, and she had come, not for him of course, she had no need of him any more. But for Fyra.

As he directed his men to clean, he caught a glimpse of gold falling from the sky. He turned, reaching out and taking it in his hand.

A leaf. A golden one.

He turned and looked up, skyward, and baren branches were growing, rapidly, glowing brighter then he ever remembered them. It shed its golden light upon the city, drawing the awe of the citizens as it rained its blessed dew upon them.

The Erdtree still lived.

All Gideon cared about though was who made it live. He and the omen king both went to the elden throne, and watched as a figure emerged from the golden trunk.

Queen Marika emerged. Her skin was cracked and filled with gold, and her left arm nothing but shadow, but it was her, at long last she returned. She held out her hands, and watched as the dew of the Erdtree rained onto her palms.

Morgott stepped forward. “My queen-”

Marika looked up. She seemed so aged and tired, her face marred with the same cracks as her body. But she smiled at him. “My son. Thee did well to ensure a worthy Tarnished took the Elden Throne.”

Morogott was stunned into silence, moved to tears. He had never once thought the mother he had so long craved to love him would ever think of him as her son.

Gideon didn’t care about any of it. “But who is Elden Lord?” He asked harshly, “Is it Godfrey or-”

He stopped mid sentence. From behind Marika, Gideon saw his answer.

Fyra.

She looked like shit. Like she had not slept in days.

He stepped forward, and held his arms out to her. She saw him, and as he expected, she began to cry, running into his arms, tackling him over and leaving them both sprawling on the ground. She pushed her forehead hard into his, as they always did, crying and dripping snot onto his face. He took his cloak and whipped at her face, looking into her eyes.

They glowed with grace, and Gideon wondered if he too had the same glow.

#elden ring #gideon ofnir #pn's fanfiction #oc x canon #other cahracters are in there too #happy ending #saw everyone doing a fancy lay out for their fics and i figured i would try that #make it look more interesting

12 notes · View notes

robinofgothamcity · 3 years

Text

♡ prompt: "you accidentally get sent into the future and see how you both turn out.”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (anyverse / nightwing) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “I said that’s life and as funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream but I don’t let it get me down cause this fine old world keeps spinning around.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / again like what I said with my Jason fic, you don’t necessarily use the TITANS universe to imagine this fic. i just used this version of dick for no reason.

“god, this is the last time I do any kind of work with ANY OF YOU!” you yelled at Dick as he bit on his inner cheek. all of you had been fighting off a bunch of crooks and at first, you thought it was okay.....that was until one of the crooks pulled out his hidden magical abilities, “at the very least, we could’ve called Klarion for help!”

Damian gave you a look as if what you were saying was stupid, “I’M JUST SAYING! WE’RE ALL FUCKING HUMAN AND ZATANNA ISN’T EVEN IN THE COUNTRY TO HELP!” you yelled back.

Dick was trying to remain calm as he hadn’t seen one of the criminals approaching him. he was too busy charging one that was heading towards you. you; however, had saw them out of the corner of you eye and practically sped to Dick which is what the criminal wanted.

he wanted you and Dick out of the way in order to get Damian trapped. as you and Dick had passed each other with the notion to save each other, the crook pulled out a gadget that opened up a portal.

“NIGHTWING!” “( YOUR HERO NAME )!”

the two of you went to grab each other but it was too late. you and Dick had gotten sucked into the portal as you let out a piercing yell. Dick tried grabbing you, hoping that wherever the two of you landed, he would get the hardest impact.

soon enough, both you and Nightwing collided with the ground. you instantly shot up, preparing to fight whoever was around. Dick had took in the surrounding and whispered that the two of you were safe.

“where the hell are we?” you asked, trying not to panic, “we need to find another portal back. Damian is on his own!” you fidgeted with your fingers as Dick waved you off.

“if anything, Damian might be more in his element,” he whispered, “you forget how Damian grew up. I think he’ll be fine. he probably already called Bruce or one of the boys.” you tried to figure out how the hell Dick was so calm about the situation.

Dick took off his mask as you followed along, “I think are biggest issue might be trying to figure out what year he took us too. I can’t imagine he took us in the past so we might just be in the future,” Dick explained.

both of you walked down the hill that you had landed on and saw you were in Bludhaven, “I think we’re in your home territory,” you murmured. Dick sighed in relief. he was more relieved that both of you landed in his hometown because had you landed in Gotham, he felt like that would’ve landed you in more trouble with the Bat, “I didn’t think Bludhaven was this ran down,” you told Dick.

“hey!” he exclaimed, “it isn’t as bad as it looks!” you giggled trying not to catch attention from anyone. the two of you made it down the hill when the realization hit you. Bludhaven had snow falling all over the town and you nor Dick were even mildly dressed in clothes to handle the cold.

“do you have clothes in your apartment? it’s freezing out here!” you exclaimed. Dick gave you the side eye, “I do but if we landed in the future, my future self might be there. we can run into a store and get clothes there.”

“and do you have cash? bc if you’re carrying a debit card, that would be really weird to see a transaction from the future,” you replied. Dick took out his wallet and pulled out a crisp 100, “I stand defeated,” you murmured. Dick rolled his eyes as the two of you saw a department store at the corner of the street.

before you could pull in, you heard someone scream you hero name, “hey! those are sick cosplays!” they said running up to you. you gave him a confused look before realizing, you had to pretend that you weren’t actually yourself, “thanks! it took a lot of work,” you tried to say.

“I bet. it looks super realistic too! ever since she stopped fighting, it’s been super weird not seeing ( your hero name ) around.” you stood confused, wondering what he meant by that, “oh! you’re supposed to be Nightwing! that’s awesome! do you think I can get a picture!” he asked.

you looked to Dick who just shrugged and agreed. the two of you smiled for the photo as he scanned it, “thanks! I swear, you look exactly like her too! but clearly that can’t be right since the actual ( your hero name ) is pregnant allegedly!” he said as he turned around to leave.

“pregnant?” you yelled, holding onto Dick who was laughing hysterically, “it’s not fucking funny! I’m pregnant in whatever year this is!” you yelled. Dick could see the panic in your eyes, “he never said it was actually true. he said it was alleged that you were,” Dick tried to emphasize.

you walked into the department store, which ended up being a Target, and ran to the women’s section, wanting to get out of your hero costume as soon as possible. once you and Dick grabbed the clothes, he quickly paid for it before the two of you darted to the bathrooms to get dressed.

you managed to come out faster than Dick as you held onto your costume by hand. with curiosity plaguing your mind, you saw a magazine and looked at the date.

December 22, 2024.

you sighed in relief. the two of you had only gone three years into the future which was a good thing....right?

“we’re three years into the future,” you told Dick. he nodded as you walked outside, “we can check if future you is actually home and if he’s not, you making some portal to get us back home!” you threatened.

“at this rate, I would’ve preferred if Damian would’ve been the one to come along,” Dick retorted. you pushed him to street, making him stumble over his feet, “say some snark shit again and see where that gets you,” you told him, “plus, you think I want to get stuck in the future with you? I would have preferred Jason if we’re going to be honest. at least he would’ve been more entertaining to be around.”

Dick remained quiet, not knowing how to respond.

the two of you had a weird relationship with each other. at times, the two of you got along, to the point where some thought the two of you were together while other times, you practically hated his guts. no one knew why the relationship was this way but his heart felt a pang as you confessed that you would have rather been here with Jason than him.

“way to kill a mood,” Dick said. you rolled your eyes, “you literally just said you’d rather be with Damian! don’t blame me for this shit. plus, if it wasn’t Damian, I’m sure you would wanted Starfire next,” you added on.

Dick looked at you stunned, “what makes you say that?” he asked. you rolled your eyes, “please, it’s not hard to tell that you and Star have a thing for each other,” you said, this time more quietly than before. Dick didn’t know how to respond but quickly for him, he didn’t have to. the two of you had arrived to where lived or at least hope he still lived there.

the house wasn’t big, not in the slightest; however, it was big enough for him on his own. the two of you looked inside of the window and saw that someone was facing their back towards it.

“whose that?” you asked Dick. he shrugged, half of him annoyed at you and the other half not knowing who it actually was. the two of you remained looking at the person, hoping they turned around so you could get a look, “it looks like you if I’m going to be honest,” Dick replied.

you sighed, “I don’t think it is but sure,” your statement was quickly taken back as the person finally turned around. it was in fact you...fully pregnant and opening up the window. you let out a piercing scream as Dick quickly covered your mouth, trying not to get caught.

“can you shut the hell up?” he whisper screamed, “you’re going to get us caught!” he continued. you took his hand off your mouth, “do that shit again and you’ll be dead before you can even see your future self,” you threatened, “plus! that’s me! pregnant as fuck!”

Dick tried not to laugh at your last statement but couldn’t, “if you’re pregnant, I wonder whose kid it is and why the hell you’re even at my place,” he wondered, “it’s probably yours,” you joked, making the both of you laugh quietly.

you remained looking through the window, watching as you stood up and got different things from a box. you were whispered things you couldn’t exactly heart but one thing you did notice was the huge ring on your left finger.

you whipped your head to look at Dick as his eyes widened. his future self had walked into the living room, giving you a peck on the cheek before bending down and kissing your stomach, “hey bubba! treating your creator well?” he asked.

both you and Dick looked at each other speechless as you put two and two together. you were pregnant....with Dick’s child, “you better because your mom might kill me if you’re giving her a hard time,” he joked before placing a kiss on your lips, “we should eat before John gets hungry and your dad thinks we ditched out on the plans,” you mentioned.

“John?” you whispered to yourself, wondering why the hell you named your future kid John, “John was my fathers name, you know, before he passed,” Dick confessed. your eyes widened, “oh, is it?” you murmured back, not knowing what to say.

the two of you walked closer the door as you noticed your belly again. it was bigger than you realized as Dick had to help you down the stairs. you watched yourself get into Dick’s are as you were struggling to put the belt around you. eventually, Dick drove away and left the two of you alone again.

the air was thick with silence as you had no idea what to say, “parents huh?” Dick asked with a chuckle of nervousness, “yup....and you’re the dad,” you added on. Dick nodded as you sat on the curb with your hands on your knees, “and you’re the mom,” he replied.

you let out a laugh of disbelief as you couldn’t make up anything to say, “crazy right? I think we’re married too,” you finally looked at Dick as he stared at you, almost lovingly, “is there an issue with that?” he asked as seriously as possible. you shook your head no, “nope. just weird that we were the ones that ended up married and having kids together,” you said.

Dick slowly grabbed your hand and held it softly.

“I mean it could be weirder...it could have been Jason or Tim,” he said out loud. you shrugged, “I mean, that would have weird too,” you played with Dick’s fingers and bit your lip, “I guess we should try and find our way back? we wouldn’t want to change the future,” you gave Dick a hopeful look.

he nodded as he helped you up but without hesitation, he pulled you in for a searing kiss, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now,” he whispered as he put his hand on your cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb.

a few seconds later, both of you saw a portal opening with Damian screeching from the other side of it, “COME ON YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS!” he yelled dramatically. you laughed, looking to Dick, “you heard the boy, let’s get the future started,” Dick nodded grabbing your hand and stepping into the portal.

#DC imagines #DC comics #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #comics

346 notes · View notes

cayenne-twilight · 4 years

Text

Professor Layton Iceberg Explanation

As I said in the tags of the original, the iceberg I made was a meme consisting of both real theories and satire/parodies/fandom memes. If anyone is interested, I can work on an unironic version that only has real theories.

Buckle in because this post is LONG and heavily saturated with lore and information.

Actual theories

Parallel universe 1960s where the world wars didn’t happen. There’s an unused file in Curious Village that shows the year as 1960 and the time machine from UF is set to 1973, ten years into the future. The series canonically takes place in an undefined time period (hence the technological inaccuracies and fantasy elements), but it’s based off the 60s. There’s more evidence but we don’t have time to go over every little thing. I linked my “no wars” theory below but TL;DR the outdated airplanes and underdeveloped medicine in the Layton series imply that the world wars may never have happened. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632205992162099200/outofcontextdiscord-timegearremix-zonosils-war

The real meaning behind the statue in Future London. In UF, the purpose of the statue is to spark Layton and Luke’s conversation about their friendship. Luke is stressing out about moving overseas and sees himself and the professor in the story behind the statue, but in the bigger picture, Clive must have been the one to commission it. Some theorize that the little boy is Clive and the man is either his father or the professor. One idea I’ve seen is that Clive wishes he could be Luke for real, while another is that he wishes he died ten years ago, and another is that he’s literally terminally ill explaining why he doesn’t care about consequence. Personally, I think “the boy succumbed to his illness” refers to his mental illness seeing as he wanted the professor to save him from his madness as he saved him all those years ago.

True location of Monte D’Or. there are no deserts on the British isles to my knowledge, so it makes the most sense for Monte D’Or to be in Southwest USA where English is the default language, they have a desert, and there exists a city famous for flashy hotels, casinos, and entertainment. What makes it odd is that nobody ever mentions overseas travel, and all the major characters are from England.

Loosha’s origins are not explicitly explained if I remember correctly, but the implication was that her prehistoric (supposedly) species was sealed away along with the garden, allowing them to survive all the way to the time of LS until Loosha was the only one left. The garden provided a good habitat and protection from predators, and it’s logical that they’d slowly die out anyways, but there’s no explanation of any specific factors that led to Loosha being the last.

Beasley is not a bee I wrote a post about this one as well, but TL;DR Beasly lacks several defining bee traits whilst having several human ones. He is not human, yet, by definition, not a bee. It’s possible that he is the result of Dimitri’s testing, but whatever his untold story is, he remains an enigma of nature. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632381715250282496/theory-beasly-isnt-a-bee

Subject 2’s identity is currently unknown. There is a subject one (parrot) and subject 3 (rabbit) so there has to be a second. For a long time, people suspected Beasly to be him seeing as he’s a bit of an amalgamation and definitely not a regular bee (see above). After the release of LMJ, though, people began to suspect Sherl, the intelligent hound who could speak to certain people but not others. That being said, it’s possible for one to be subject 4. Sherl’s memory of a bright flash matches up with subject 3’s memory of being electrocuted. They never explain why the animals were being experimented on, but it was probably Dimitri making sure the conditions of his machine were safe for humans before reliving the incident from ten years ago.

Lady Violet died from the plague from DB. There’s no evidence for this or anything, it’s just an idea. People say she died from the flu but I don’t remember them saying that in the game, at least the US version. Extending off my “no war” theory: it’s theorized that the Spanish Flu was spread by the travlelling soldiers, so if that’s true, it’s possible for the epidemic to have been averted for some decades. Maybe the Spanish Flu reached England later than in real life. The hole in this is that DB’s plague must’ve been close in time to 1918 while Violet’s death was much later, so it would’ve had to stick around.

Bill Hawks is working with Targent and Arthur Cantabella. There was a force in the shadows buying the time machine technology from Bill. Someone with a ton of money who helped him cover up a freak accident and get away with it completely, a feat that involved shady means like violence by hired thugs. Some theorize that it was Targent, seeking power over time in exchange for a little mafia magic. The Labarynthia project was sponsored by the UK government, so as the PM, Bill must’ve known about it. He probably supported dubiously ethical, high stakes (witch pun) psychological experiments like Cantabella’s and helped him stay in the shadows.

All the NPCs in St. Mystere and Folsense are dead. I make fun of this type of theory later, but they’re admittedly captivating. I’m pretty sure the canon in CV is that the villagers are Bruno and Augustus’s OCs that they made robots of and built a town around, but it’s more interesting to think that the village was there before, and the townspeople died of a plague and were replaced like Lady Violet. In Folsense, there really was a plague and they never explain the NPCs there. They’re either real people who appear way younger than they are due to hallucinations (even the ones who already look old ?), or they don’t exist at all, which is pretty spooky. This part of the story is a gaping plot hole. In a similar vein to CV, the edgy yet plausible theory is that they used to live in Folsense but died of the plague and now live on as hallucinations.

Hershel seeing everything as a puzzle is a coping mechanism for all his trauma. This was a joke but I thought about it for more than five seconds and it makes way too much sense.

Plot holes and unexplained questions that we like to overthink because it’s fun

The downfall of the Azran was vaguely explained in canon by people being so greedy that it lead to the civilization collapsing. It’s not a stretch to imagine that happening, but it would’ve been more interesting with a little more detail.

Layton and Luke are programmed to routinely forget how to walk. I didn’t know whether to list this in the joke section or not, but it’s odd that the characters actively participate in the walking tutorial (as opposed to showing a little memo to the player) as if they didn’t know how to before, especially when they go through this several times a year.

The truth behind Pavel. He’s simply a joke character who teleports, is a polyglot (sort of, at least he wants us to think he is) and is mega confused all the time. He’s a fun character to make crack theories about because of his cryptic nature that even he doesn’t seem to understand.

Miracle Mask deleted scenes. The first trailer for MM featured animations that were not in the final game. One was the Randall falling scene, except in a slightly different style than the one we know. Others were completely foreign, like Layton and Luke pacing across a theatre stage as if Layton’s about to expose someone with a dramatic point. Cut content and “could’ve beens” are always curious to think about.

Evan Barde: secret mastermind. Arianna and Tony’s dad is a mysterious character who died under mysterious circumstances. I think the canon is that his death was a genuine accident, but concept art of him making a creepy evil face suggests that maybe he originally had a larger role in the first drafts of LS than the finished game.

The secret to how Paul and Des pull off their disguises is unclear and will remain unclear. There is no plausible explanation for their shape shifting. Unless Paul is just a little dude wearing a human suit like that one Wizard of Oz species and Des is the best quick-changer ever and hides his naturally feminine legs under his cloak.

Alfendi’s mom. When LBMR came out people scrambled to piece together who Hershel had a kid with, but there’s no way alfendi is his biological son. This happened with Kat as well and her biological parents turned out to be brand new characters, so I’m sure Al will get an adoption backstory if his arc continues, be his parents old major characters or nameless, faceless NPCs.

Granny Riddleton and Stachenscarfen are omnipotent deities. Idk which section this fits best under, but these two characters have some serious power. At first introduction, they’re implied to be robots, but they appear everywhere in later games. They follow the Professor wherever he goes and assist him on his adventures, GR collecting puzzles and housing them by some odd magic, and Stachen teaches you how to walk. They both introduce and supervise the gameplay. By extension, I guess this idea could apply to Albus as well in the prequels. GR and Stachen even had the power to appear in LMJ, something no major character could do. I consider them akin to the velvet room attendants from the Persona games.

Clive’s kill count is a vague subject in the game for the sake of keeping it PG. I don’t know if anyone’s ever mathematically estimated the damage he caused, and I sure don’t want to try, but the game appears to push the idea that he didn’t kill anyone at all, saying they stopped him in the nick of time and things like that, even though we watch him raze the city. If they ever want to bring him back post-time skip, I can see them twisting it so that the mobile fortress cutscene wasn’t a linear sequence of events, but instead a compilation of scenes over the course of hours so that London neighborhoods around him could be evacuated and have it make sense. Knowing Level-5, it’s more likely that they wouldn’t think this deep and do something more lazy, though.

Memes and references

Post-time skip Flora is real references the famous L is real theory from Super Mario 64. Like Luigi in SM64, Flora was also a highly anticipated character who didn’t appear in a new game, in this case LMJ or LMDA. In the end, Luigi did become real in the DS port so hopefully Flora is real will be realized as well.

Hershel can’t read is a veteran fandom meme referring to how in the first few games, especially Curious Village, Layton asks Luke to read every document out loud for him. Perhaps this was an exercise to improve Luke’s reading skills and independent thinking, or perhaps he was just too lazy or preoccupied to do it himself, but this grew into the joke that our genius Professor was actually illiterate this whole time.

Layton’s smash invitation is hidden in PLvsAA. It’s no secret that the fandom would kill a man to get the Professor into the smash brothers franchise. In PLvsAA one of the puzzle artworks features a goat eating a familiar white envelope with a red stamp, sparking the joke that either Layton or Wright got the invitation their respective fans desired, but it got lost along the way.

The science board is the mysteriously vague organization Don Paolo got kicked out of for the crime of being evil. It’s the epitome of liberal arts majors and art school graduates trying to bs their way around not knowing any science and failing miserably. “He was very good at all the sciences, but then the CEO of science told him to stop because he was using the power of science for evil science”. They do this again when “Dr. Stahngun” describes his time machine what with the soolha coils and whatnot.

Hoogland is death cult initiation is a parody of “Mario 64 is Freemason initiation” which is ridiculous, just like the creepy human sacrifice subplot of AL.

You can see the reflection of someone watching you in Aurora’s eye references the famous, creepy Talking Angela theory. In retrospect it would’ve been funnier if I said Angela instead of Aurora.

Every copy of Professor Layton is personalized references the famous “every copy of Super Mario 64 is personalized”

Clive’s fat ass in HD is a meme that originated from the announcement of UFHD, saying that half of the excited fans wanted to cry again while the other half were simply attracted to Clive. If we want to enter real bottom-section-of-the-iceberg-chart territory then let’s say Clive’s character has some sort of psychological siren properties that draw people to him like a magnet and/or Harry Styles.

Things I pulled out of my ass for shits and giggles

Infinite hint coin hack: I’m sure a tech savvy cheater could hack the game for infinite hint coins, but there’s no easy or interesting way. I don’t know why someone would do that though, considering a lot of the hints suck and there are puzzle guides on the internet.

Cringy, unused Randall villain monologue. This joke is derived from the actual scrapped MM content as well as deleted content being a popular element of iceberg charts, but it’s sadly not real. Would’ve been hilarious, though.

Last Specter Puzzle 031: Light Height tracks and records children’s intelligence level. It doesn’t, but it’s always fun to make fun of arguably THE most ridiculously difficult puzzle in the franchise. (Seriously, do they expect 7+ year olds to know trigonometry???)

Hershel struggles with tea addiction. Hershel from the games drinks tea in moderation, but the manga begs to differ. He has a tea set in the Laytonmobile, and an attempt at teatime while driving causes him to crash.

Folsense is a metaphor for Alzheimer’s. This is inspired by those edgy kids’ show theories where everyone’s in hell or something, but nobody has ever said this.

London Life is reality and the plot of the games is all in Luke’s head. That’s one way to fill every plot hole. How funny would it be if Luke made up crazy characters and stories based off his fellow townspeople Sharkboy and Lavagirl style. “This dude who lives in a castle and asks people to give him all their money for nothing in return is a vampire from 50 years ago involved in a tragic love story”.

Secret ending encoded into Tago’s Head Gymnastics. It’d be crazy if there was, and Dimitri would hound Tago for the secret to time travel. If you didn’t know, the Layton games started as an adaption of Akira Tago’s puzzle series, except they decided to add a story to make it more interesting and marketable.

Daily puzzles datamine your DS. I’m bad with technology but is it even possible to datamine a DS??? Idk, but I think my DS lite from 2008 is safe.

392 notes · View notes