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bonefall · 5 months

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Is Sandgorse still abusive in BB? If so does he still save Sparrow? Idk I think it'd be a neat thing for Talltail to brood on and move past once realizing the truth. Like just because your abuser did a "Good Thing tm" doesn't mean you have to forgive them or that all of a sudden it excuses their past a tion towards you.

Or did you remove this plot beat entirely? If so I don't blame you :P

Weird that Tumblr search isn't giving me all the stuff I tagged :/ hopefully after finals are done I can compile a 1st draft/The Story So Far for the rework of Tallstar’s Revenge

It's now called TALLSTAR’S COLLAPSE. It is actually a story I am rewriting with tragedy in mind. It's about Talltail fleeing WindClan with his starcrossed lover, Sparrow, only to eventually be drawn back to it where he becomes a perpetuator of all the things that made him leave.

To answer your question; Yes, and. Sandgorse is abusive and there's a LOT of nuance to this situation. I'm not sure if he still saves "Sparrow" though because I have waaaay more of a point in mind with Tallstar’s tumultuous relationship to him.

Summary of changes,

Tallstar's Collapse

Sparrow is the Clanmew name Jake takes when his group interacts with WindClan. His first language is actually a dialect of Townmew!

(Also Firestar has no known father in BB)

His group is nomadic. They go from place to place trading goods. I need a name for both them and their cultural "cluster" but in my head, Jake's family is the Algernauts because Algernon is the current leader

It's important the Algernauts are extremely endearing because leaving them is VERY painful

(and something i want to frame as the wrong choice for tallstar, emotionally)

WindClan is in a very sensitive period of its history. Before Tallstar was born, Heatherstar began the Mothermouth Moorland War, to take a very large parcel of land from ShadowClan. A good 1/5th of it.

Naturally this is a huge project and incredibly ambitious. Sacrifices Must Be Made

The sacrifice she has chosen to make is the death of tunneling. Because she's smothering it.

Tunneling is PEACEFUL, defensive at best. You can't dig them in a floodplain, they would be useless for holding the Mothermouth Moorland territory

Tallkit is born into a terrible position. Son of the head tunneler, mother in a terrible depression, and Heatherstar trying to pry a wedge between the "future" and the "past"

Im also planning to change his name. He was born Slowworm-Kit, which has a connotation of cleverness in Clanmew. To bully him, Shrewpaw calls him Wormtail, because Slowworms drop their tails if pulled. It means "you will get trapped in a cave-in, and when they pull your tail, it'll fall off"

But it doesn't translate well into English... so I'm not sure what his Heatherstar-given warrior name would be. Wormwing or Wormleap maybe, like he "defied fate" to become a wonderful moor-runner...

Or maybe the prefix is Drop? Droptail as the mean bully name and Dropflight as the warrior name...

Anyway, when he returns, Heatherstar welcomes back the extra claws and honors the lesson he learned with "Talltale." In Clanmew this is "Story-travelled," his leader name meaning "Tale-star."

Anyway. Back to the cat drama

Talltail (name pending) is in a tight spot. I kind of want to show everyone being a victim except Heatherstar herself, who has all the power in this situation.

Not that it excuses anyone

Sandgorse is watching something he loves dying, an ancient tradition passed down for generations. He is trying to force his son into a position he shouldn't HAVE to occupy, but his child is the one thing he might have any control over

(Until Tall breaks it ofc)

Tallpaw was just a kid. He needed to take out his bullying and the stress on something, and that was usually his mother and the concept of tunneling

Palebird has been completely neglected by her mate as he focuses on the person he WANTS his kid to be. She NAMED a Fading Kit, a serious social taboo, and even the support of the nursery and Woolytail can't pull her out before Tall's kithood is over

Heatherstar is using Tallpaw as a political pawn and Tallpaw is too young and hurt to realize it. He was given to her sister, Dawnstripe, and endlessly praised for his skill and talent in a time where he NEEDED positive feedback

Which is making his relationships with his parents worse

All the while, there's VIOLENCE. Regular raids and counterstrikes. Cats die and get injured, and it only escalates as Tall gets older and Cedarstar is reaching the end of his lives, hoping to end the conflict before then

And in all this chaos and uncertainty, there comes Sparrow.

Just a trader and an honored guest, there's been lots of these nomadic visitors since the time of Windstar herself, but they've become quite rare.

When Sandgorse dies suddenly in that collapse (TITLE DROP) Talltail has the push he finally needs. It's too much. He can't process this

Sparrow begs him to leave with them, they don't even need to confront anyone, just come!

IF IT SUCKS HIT DA BRICKS

I have tons of really nice little things planned for this part of the story. It's several chapters of Talltail being free.

He engages in the funeral rites of Wee Hen, asking if he may sit vigil for her. His new family is honored to allow it, Reena even tries to do it too and falls asleep

(Little sister energy)

They meet all sorts of people and go to many places. Talltail learns that the world is vast, and there's an endless amount of knowledge out here.

It all starts crashing down when him and Jake find a litter of abandoned kittens, and become parents.

They're a few moons old.. around the same age as his halfsibs back home.

It starts bringing back memories. He wonders how they're doing. If they made a nice grave for Sandgorse...

The sudden longing for his own mother strikes him like lightning.

For the first time in eons, he feels GUILT over leaving. He thought it was over-- he's living his own life now!

But what if they're hurt? What if there was a battle and he couldn't help? What if his mentor died and he didn't even know?

What kind of a horrible son doesn't even say goodbye?

The problems that made him leave seem so small now, and the homesickness is like acid leaking from his stomach, dissolving his guts and leaving him hollow

He's raising kits who will never know what it means to earn a title, or have a permanent home, or--

(Any of the other things he should have learned don't have meaning outside of clan culture. Things they wouldn't miss.)

He cherishes the memories he makes here, raising children with his mate, but something turns inside of Talltail. Like the groaning ache of a hundred stones on top of a decaying mineshaft

The REAL collapse is this. An existential crisis Talltail can't escape from.

And eventually, it comes tumbling down with one last, horrible nightmare.

In his dream, he came home only to find the sandy camp abandoned, the dens decrepit, full of musty scent and cobwebs.

Sandgorse was there. And they talked.

His dad was gruff as always, disappointed. But he didn't say anything the real Sandgorse would say.

The nightmare said, "You really did turn out like me. We both left your mother when she needed us. Turned our backs on our leader. And now we're both dead to WindClan."

Tall wakes up crying. Jake is there to comfort him, but the conversation they have is sad.

Jake tries to tell him that's all not true, and even if it WAS his dad, his dad sucked and would only say that to hurt him!

But... Tall can't believe it. Jake's right but also wrong. He IS all those horrible things.

And...... how can jake ever Understand? He does not know the Bonds of a Clan cat

(thought terminating cliche. Outsiders Cant Understand Our Bonds.)

He stays a few more days, but that nightmare was the end. And everyone sees the change.

The kits are apprentice-aged. He stayed until they would be old enough to keep up with the Algernauts.

And he says goodbye. He won't ever leave without saying goodbye ever again.

Jake says it doesn't have to be goodbye, he'll always love him, and they can visit! They can see each other again!

And Tall says yes. That this isn't the end. It's... see you later, my love.

(...but they both know how violent it's getting between Wind and Shadow. It isn't safe to visit.)

It is the end. But neither can admit it.

But after Tall is a fair distance away, one of his kits tackles him.

POSSIBLY Post-Tallstar's Collapse

Not sure if I'd put these in a novella or still make it part of it, but these are all directly related to the fallout of Tallstar's Collapse

Most likely is that there would be overlap between this and Brokenstar's Cataclysm, so the same events would be seen in different perspectives.

The kit's name is Fly. Tall has to wait for him to catch his breath and stop crying before they can talk.

Fly already lost parents before. He says he knows he can't make his dads stay together, "But PLEASE, papa, let me choose where I go this time!"

How could he say no? How could he send his son away after a plea like that?

He told him it would be hard. That he would be trained. That there would be dangerous fights.

Fly didn't care, he said he could be strong. He could do anything he needed to.

So... Tall took him to WindClan, where he became Flypaw. He became the warrior he promised he would be.

And Tall didn't notice how much the kid was changing until it was too late. Flytail took to it as if he was Clanborn-- but had to work twice as hard, fight thrice as viciously.

Though Talltail was graced with an Honor Title and open arms, he'd adopted his greatest rival.

Fly and Tall started competing for deputyship as soon as they finished training apprentices; Heatherstar had a fondness for the two of them.

In the end, Talltail won the spot by springing into action and saving Heatherstar's young nephew, a little golden tabby, from an adder.

Flytail continued as one of the more aggressive warriors in the Clan, surviving increasingly violent and bitter battles, until it came to a head in Heatherstar's Last Stand.

Her final battle as an old leader was a gruesome, definitive curbstomp in the last strategic point ShadowClan held above Carrionplace.

One of the losses was Lizardstripe-- neck snapped in Flytail's jaws.

Runningnose, and by extension, the oak-tree to his long-shadow, Brokentail, remembered this. Especially when Runningnose's father Mudfoot collapsed later that year.

As Talltail took leadership from the dying Heatherstar, a familiar regretful guilt wormed into his belly.

His son Flytail stood with a bloody mouth, eyes wet with sorrow, looking down at the leader Talltail once loved almost as much. Appreciating her sacrifice.

(secretly he didnt choose Deadfoot as his deputy just for his honor title or the battle move he invented... he chose him because there was a shocked, sorrowful look in his eyes at the fallen shadowclan cat. Sympathy seems more honorable in this moment.)

Tallstar is a wise leader... but his fatal flaw is naivety. How could he think he'd bring his son into WindClan, and not see the boy grow into a ferocious Warrior?

And naivety is what he displayed when he offered Raggedstar a peace deal. WindClan would keep the land, but they would pay a small tax of rabbits over the winter.

It was unprecedented. It was merciful. It was stupid.

When the winter was over, what would stop them from pushing further south?

Would they trade back the frogs and the flax, come summer?

On the blood and bones of so many warriors? As if giving up was ever an option?

Brokentail killed his father to prevent him from taking the deal, and reawakened Ripplestar's War Tactics.

BURN the peat. KILL the prey. OFFENSE is defense. A dead warrior is 10 less claws. A dead apprentice is 1 less warrior.

Stolen kittens are 1 more warrior on your own side.

Tallstar paid the ultimate price for letting Flytail follow him home that day. On the night of the massacre, Flytail went down fighting alongside a mate and a daughter. Dogpiled by Tangleburr and her squadron in revenge for Lizardstripe and Mudfoot.

Tallstar's granddaughter Stoneclaw, made a warrior and sitting for her vigil on that night, was the sole survivor of the little family.

The event stopped her from speaking again, like she's still sitting vigil.

Tallstar is a character who almost broke free of the control of the Clans. For a brief moment of his life, he was free.

He thought maybe he could change things a little, protect his Clanmates from the battles by being part of them, have the Mothermouth Moorland and protect the peace at the same time. But you CAN'T.

You can't fix broken systems without fundamentally changing them. He thought he could be a nice warlord and that would work on the Clan whose territory he had inherited. Power acts through people just as much as they act through power.

And that's Tallstar. He who travels the world, yet is never able to go far enough. Always falling just a little short of the point, believing that love and mercy is enough while blissfully ignorant of the pressures of pride and power.

Into this role, as a successor to this leader, Onestar is unwillingly thrust.

#BB!Tallstar #Better bones au #BB!Flytail #Tallstar's Collapse

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luvfy0dor · 6 months

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Hello there ! I find your writing lovely and I saw that you were asking for some ideas.... its been kinda cold and rainy lately and I was wondering.. what about fyodor and the reader staying under the blankets and cuddling to stay warm... (and allowing him to get some rest) ...

"I Want Your Dreary Mondays" Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; None, just fluff!!

Description; Cuddling with Fyodor! It's kinda short, but I think it hits all the important points!

A/n; Man it has been so rainy lately for me, too. It makes me so tired all the time like it gets hard keeping my eyes open after noon tbh and it just puts me in a mood 💔

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your eyes opened to a slight darkness rather than the usual sunshine that peeked through your windows each morning. The cold air matched the dreary mood that came from the lack of natural light combined with the pitter patter of the rain outside. You blinked a few times, still not fully awakening but yawning and stretching as well as you could while staying under the blankets. The feeling of your lover breathing against your neck didn't contribute to your warmth very much, making you shiver a little bit whenever the chilly air hit your skin.

His wooly sweater though, on the other hand, did you some justice. You tugged the covers over your shoulder and snuggled right on up to your lover, his eyebrows furrowing a bit before he wakes up, looking down at you. He was clearly still sleepy and dazed, his eyes squinted with drowsiness. "Are you cold?" He whispers, cuddling right back into you. His bony hands ran up and down your back and sides as he rests his head in between your shoulder and neck. You nod, humming in response as you slide your hands up the back of his sweater in attempt to warm them up.

He sharply inhales when he feels how frigid your hands were, his back arching slightly away from your touch. "You weren't lying, my love." He says, right before prying one of your hands from his back and holding it in his own. He gives it a soft squeeze, his head still in the crook of your neck as he inhales your familiar scent. You squeeze it back and snuggle up to him, peppering soft, chaste kisses along his neck. His cheeks visibly grew pinker, even if it was only in the slightest, you could still tell. Even the most minute change in his demeanor or appearance would not go unnoticed by you, and the same goes for him. He knew you like the back of his hand, and even though he wasn't the best at showing it all of the time, he noticed all the small things just like you did.

He noticed your sleepiness before you did sometimes, scooching closer to you so you could rest your head on his shoulder. He noticed discomfort, guiding you away from a situation as discreetly as possible. Most of the time he even knew what question you were going to ask before you even opened your mouth, having an answer prepared for you. He is a very observant man, or maybe your just very obvious? Perhaps it was a combination of both.

In this very moment, Fyodor could tell you didn't want him to leave the warmth of your bed. He quickly realized that your kisses were an attempt at coaxing him into cuddling with you without explicitly asking. He grinned a bit before sitting up, escaping your hold and yawning. You gave him a perplexed and disgruntled look before grabbing his hand again. "Hey, you can't just leave! I'll freeze, Fedya, do you want me to die?" You say, pulling the blankets up to your face, trying to replace the heat from Fyodors body. "You're not going to freeze to death, it's not cold enough for that." He deadpans, holding onto your hand.

"Well if I won't die then I'll suffer. I'll suffer this harsh, harsh weather all alone." You say. He quietly scoffs, moving his hair out of his face. "You'll be fine." He says, kissing your forehead quickly before getting out of bed, fully removing the blanket from his lap, immediately shivering. "Look at you, you're freezing, Fedya. Get back in bed." You say, tossing the blanket back over his body and hugging onto his midsection before he lays back down.

"I was far from freezing." He murmurs. "But since you're so insistent, I guess I'll entertain your request this once." His voice is soft and quiet, the man already becoming drowsy again. You smile in accomplishment, rubbing his back with a grin. "Mhm, you should take a break from working anyway. You overwork yourself a lot." You whisper. He hums in response before replying. "Yes, I agree, but one day it'll be worth the while, my love. We'll be able to live the best life possible, I promise." He mumbles, his hair tickling your skin. You nod, twirling some of the strands around your finger. "But still...one day won't hurt, I promise." You quietly speak before the both of you fall asleep together, limbs entangled under the warm blanket; safe from the cold rainy weather on the outside.

A/n; me when I post ❤️💞😻💖 Anyways you guys life update I gotta take a full chapter of notes tonight because they're due tomorrow so thrilled u guys so thrilled

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twistedbloodstain · 1 year

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vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: i made you my temple, my mural, my sky now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. | the marquis wants more of what meets the eye.

plot: the one where the marquis has had enough of just a glimpse.

warning: unrequited?,vincent is down bad af, boss-assistant relationship

masterlist

your cries of pain are so soft but so loud in his ears. stupid, stupid girl. what have you done? it frightens him to see you so…helpless. he tries to soothe you from it but to no avail, he can feel the warm thick blood from your torso dripping on his trousers.

but what petrifies him to the bone was your silence. the moment you flutter your eyes shut and the whimpers of pain from your lips dwindle down makes his blood run cold.

what happened next was a blur for him but all he can remember was holding your hand as thomas drove through the thick of the city to bring you to safety. why had you done that? he clasps your hand even tighter when he can feel you take a sharp breath every now and then. it makes him hope. it makes him pray to any god out there to let you live. please…not her..not her. not when she did that for me. not when she just took a bullet for me, it cannot be. he doesn’t know why, but he does. he’ll beg on his knees to every god out there if it meant seeing you safe and alive.

when you're taken from his arms and placed on a stretcher, he can only stand in shock. it still doesn’t make sense to him, were you…not what he thought you were? no, no she was just in the way of it. she probably cursed me to death when she got shot. but she hadn’t said anything, and the way she looked at me. god it was full of fear and dread, she had gripped on him when he’d taken her to his arms, and it was full of the fight left inside her. the way she latched her hand on his wrist felt like the way you would grip a rosary for a prayer to god, he wonders to himself.

the marquis stands still in front of the door. behind the door, are skillful medical professionals working to keep you alive but it doesn’t feel enough. he feels fear pool into his stomach. what if she doesn’t recover? what if she doesn’t live through the night? what if she dies? what would he do?

his mouth sews shut and his throat goes dry. she’ll live. she has to, the marquis reassures himself. he cannot bear the thought of you gone, of you dead on a medical table all because of him.

the gods had been gracious. why? because right now, he’s sitting beside the bedside table on which he has his preferred drink; a pitcher of lemon water. other than that there’s the matter of you.

there you are in the least of your glory. tucked beneath the silk sheets in one of the guest rooms of his estate and your head laid on the large wooly pillows. the doctor managed to stabilize the wound on your torso.

“thankfully, the bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs, the main concern we focused on was the excessive bleeding from it.” the doctor explains to him. there are more he says to him, but he never hears the end of it. all he could focus on was you. your eyes still shut but your breathing was steady, he could hear the beeping of the vitals sign monitor as he gazed at you.

you looked so…innocent. as if you weren’t recovering from an injury but merely sleeping. your guard was down and you seemed so calm. something he never witnessed while you worked for him, not that he’s ungrateful for it but you always seemed rigid and always expected something bad to be thrown on your face all the time, to see you so relaxed and serene felt like a gift.

it felt like a privilege from the gods. oh they truly had been gracious enough to give this sight to him.

he wondered if he would see more of this once you woke up. he hopes he does, your sweet angelic face that was always nervous and alert was more delightful to see when you were peaceful. he wonders what your smile would be like, how the corner of your lips would curve when you were amused from something he said, you’d often hid it from him trying to remain professional when a you heard a jape from someone.

he wonders what your sweet laugh would sound like. that would be lovely to hear. how it could sound like music to his ears when it came from you, how precious it would be just to hear it once. he would be honored if you were ever to bestow that gift to him. lastly, he wonders how to make you happy. how to make you pleased whenever you see him, not that composed structure you give him when you greet him in the morning but something genuine. he wants to tear down the walls you’ve built in front of him so he can see you. what you’re truly like.

now, you’ve shown a glimpse of it to him. he wants more, he prays that when you wake up, you won't shut him out again. when you wake up don’t shove him out of what you’re like. when you wake up don’t hide what you feel for him, not from him, don’t hide it from him. don’t wake him up just to realize it was all a dream. a fantasy he thought that came to its reality. you’re many things but cruelty is not one of them. so don’t break him, for god’s sake don’t.

“how long until she awakens?” he interrupts the doctor in the middle of his talk, surprisingly still going on.

“i’d give it two to three weeks, sir. if her vitals remain stable.” the doctor answers dutifully,

he hums before replying, “you can go.”

the doctor nods and bows his head a little then obediently obeys his command. right now, it’s just you, him and that monitor.

he stares at your face in uncertainty, two weeks. before it was something that seemed short enough for him but right now it felt like a century. he wanted to speak to you, to talk to you. he had so many questions for you, why you’d taken a bullet from him. if you wanted to resign from your job. why you made him feel like this.

like a lovesick fool.

as if that wasn’t painful enough, the answers he wanted to hear cannot be said. it felt like you told him you loved him then fled, although unintentionally it’s not like you intentionally got yourself shot to avoid confrontation from him…did you?

he shakes that thought out of his mind, the truth can only be provided through you. who is unable to answer that for at least two weeks, it was itching him to know, to know what you’ve done to him. what magic or skill you’ve done to make him latch onto you like a bug.

most of all he wants to know where does that leave the both of you. he wishes you don’t flee from him, that you’ll take him for what he is and more. he doesn’t think he can handle the idea of you out of his reach. out of safety, the only comfort you can only seek in this world is from him.

albeit, ironic considering you’re passed out on a bed because of a bullet meant for him. but when you wake up, he’ll promise. he’ll swear to you, that nothing, nothing would ever get to you ever again. he would protect you with all his power and control over the country just to see you sheltered from harm. what good is his power if he can’t use it to protect you from his enemies? anyone that fucks with you, fucks with me mon amour. i promise. he promises to you and to himself.

he remembers a painting he saw in the louvre. the death of alcestis. a tale about how alcestis willingly dies in place of her husband, admetus. at first, he’d thought the pair, alcestis and admetus were a bunch of fools. why would you eagerly die for someone? if you truly cared for your wife why had you let her die in your place? that’s not love, it’s simply tragedy. not that he has much experience on that matter but he never understood it.

the evening he starts to understand,. alcestis dies for her husband because of love, because she cannot bear the pain of her love absent in this world. she cannot live without her lover. did you think the same when you took a bullet for him? did you think that no pain could compare if he were dead? although for admetus, he could not find a defense for him, ironically he is the admetus to your alcestis but he swears. he swears that will never be the case ever again.

he’ll bring you back from the dead if it meant he would die in your place.

the guilt surges into his guts, mixing with the pool of fear that rushed into his veins last night. he feels sorry, for his failure, for himself but most especially for you. he feels miserable that he’d failed you, that because of him you got hurt.

it’ll never happen again. i won’t let it happen again. he vows to himself. he has to, for your sake and his.

as he stands up to leave, he goes to your bed and gazes into your face once more. he lowers himself to your frame, setting himself on the edge of the bed. you make no sign of disturbance from his movement, still heavily asleep. he takes your hand and strokes the back of it, lovingly.

“i have to go mon amour, but i’ll be back. i’ll be here when you wake up, i’ll be the first person you’ll see the same way i was the last person you saw.” he whispers to your dozing face, he ponders if you could hear him. likely not, but it doesn’t hurt to wonder.

he leans forward and slowly presses a soft kiss to your temple. gentle and nothing harsh, meant to convey his care with how fragile you were right now. he lets his lips linger on the softness of your temple, relishing on the mellow texture of your skin. he wants to stay here, with you. just the two of you like it always was for the past two years, he should’ve urged you to come sit with him in the car on the way to meetings, should’ve spoken to you every chance he had and he should’ve confessed how he felt towards you. no point mourning time that has been spent, even if it meant years that were wasted.

when he pulls away from you it feels like a force urged him to stay and he hopes he could but he can’t. he has a lifetime for that now, and so do you. he lifts your hand to his lips then slowly kisses your wrist, also lingering so long but seems so short for the marquis.

he leisurely stands up, keeping his eyes on your face. he strides towards the door then takes one last glance before opening the door. i’ll be back and she’ll still be safe. i’ll only be gone for only a few hours, he murmurs to himself.

he opens the door and sees a pair of guards by your door, they stand straight and acknowledge him by nodding their head. he sees thomas walking up to him, likely bearing news.

“sir, we’ve carefully taken them. they’re chained up at the edge of the city, we go at your order.” thomas informs him diligently. the marquis simply nods his head, a gesture of affirmation. he turns his head to the pair guarding your room.

“make sure to call for me, the moment she wakes up and keep her here until i say otherwise. understood?” he sternly instructs with the cold tone they’ve known for years. the pair answer obediently with compliance.

the marquis leaves them then walks through the hall towards the exit of the manor with thomas trailing behind him, it was odd to no longer hear the clicking of your heels behind him but right now he had other concerns.

it was time to make the people who hurt you, pay for what they’ve done.

when the news reaches his ears, he’s astounded. almost three weeks after your operation, you were finally awake. it delights him, to finally know you were safe and awake. he immediately stands up from his chair and walks out of his office.

he was overjoyed with what he just heard, although he did everything in his power to not let it show on his face as he trudged through the halls of the manor. the dread and fear was gone, in its stead it was bliss and happiness, he felt lighthearted knowing that the threat of losing you from death was finally extinguished.

two weeks after the incident and you still haven’t woken from your slumber, it had angered him. so he had taken it out on the doctor responsible for your recovery, he had pierced his hand with a knife and his assistant nurse had to help him pry the knife from his hand, from what he heard. it can be said that it was an overreaction and ever since that occurrence everyone walked on eggshells around him.

now it was gone, he felt relieved to know that you’re awake but as he neared your room, he heard a door close, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. soon after, he saw adeline, the senior housekeeper coming from the other direction he was headed. the housekeeper stopped on her feet and acknowledged him by lightly bowing her head. he wondered if adeline just visited your room, it was probable to happen considering she had been one of his spies during his “venture of getting to know you”. he shakes that thought, it wasn’t important but a mysterious feeling remained in his stomach.

when he saw thomas and another of this men guarding your door, he saw the doctor and nurse nearing your door. the doctor greeted him but he made no effort to do the same. the moment he enters through the door he sees you.

awake. alive. safe

he swears his heart could burst just by the sight of you.

he stays silent the entire exchange between you and the medics. he sat on another of the chairs, lounging and waiting for it to end so he way share a word with you. he notices the way you flinch while they rebandage your wound.

he wants to kill that entire family all over again, just for the way you flinch right now.

when the pair of medical professionals leave he gazes at you. it takes all his strength to keep his composure calm and professional when all he wants to do is take you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

he speaks the first word for the both of you, simple courtesies. how were you feeling and the situation of your injury, nothing important. you thank him for the measures he’s done for you to keep you alive. i’ve done more and i’ll do it all over again. he wants to say but doesn’t.

what makes his brain suddenly stop functioning for a moment was when you ask when you tell him you need to go home.

you are home. can’t you see? can’t you see?! he wants to tell you.

it was starting to happen. he was starting to lose you when he just had you. he walks towards the window and faces away from you, trying to remain composure.

“sir?” you call out to him.

i can’t let you leave. i cannot bear the thought of it, i felt like i was being torn apart alive knowing you almost died because of me. how much more knowing you’re alive but not within my reach? don’t be cruel, mon coeur. don’t do this.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you innocently question to him.

“you cannot.” he finally spits out.

you’re shoving me away just like what i feared. but why? i’ve done good things and unspeakable things for you, you can’t simply abandon me like this. not when you’ve made me feel alive and loved.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you worried ask him, “sir?” you add when he doesn’t reply to you.

“it’s not…safe.” he states to you, finally facing you. he stares at you, if it was a gift to watch you asleep, it was a pleasure to see you awake again.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you frown, trying to deduce everything he’s said to you.

“it’s not safe for you.” he finally clears it out, glad to have gotten rid of it.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

tell me something i don’t know, my dear. i’m reminded of that every night i sleep and every breath i draw from this world. no need to rub that in, but i’ve made amends. you have nothing to worry about.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

suddenly, everything finally sets into your head. he can see your eyes widen while he gazes into your face. the urge to hold you close and kiss you like a starved man to death was strong. especially, right now when you’ve realized the weight of his words.

he doesn’t need to say it out loud that he cares and loves you. when the words he said hinted at what he means to say and the actions he’s done spoke better than his words could ever say but he still tries. he knows that you already know but he wants to make sure.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

the heaviness on his shoulders feels lighter now, he’s finally said the words however merely a fragment of what he truly feels but he has his entire life to say all of them, he’s in no rush to say his love to her right now. he has his entire life to love her.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him, he wants to keep you safe here with him, away from all the horror of his work, to stay only with him and to speak the words unspoken for years.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

the marquis has gone fucking crazy.

first he expressed a confession of love to you, second he was watching you the entire time you were asleep and lastly, he won’t let you leave the estate.

it had almost been an hour ever since your conversation with him after you woke up. soon after, thomas knocked the door and peeped his head in, informing the marquis about a visitor in the drawing room. which you were eternally grateful for because you were speechless with everything your boss just told you.

you were still sat on the same chair ever since, you deduced you’ve been in a trance for about two hours and a half, you felt like your legs would give out of shock if you tried to stand up. you found it hard to process everything.

did the marquis feel something for you? certainly. you could tell his intentions from his words and his tone. oh god, the words were enough to catch you off guard but the way he said it, slowly chokes you alive from how stunned you are.

but it feels out of nowhere. in the two years you’ve worked for him, he has been nothing but cold and crass with you like any other interactions between a boss and assistant so this feels rather confusing rather than touching even with the fragility and regret oozing through his tone.

even more reason to go home. you need space, from your injury, from that night and in addition from him.

you need to process your feelings properly without the marquis hovering around you, especially when he made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere. but how in the world were you going to get out of the room? everyone in this estate would immediately inform the marquis and drag you back to the room the moment they see you outside. although you could make an excuse to see someone then bolt through the manor the moment you’re slightly a few paces ahead of them.

you were at a complete disadvantage though, the guards could easily overpower you with their strength and just like you they’re familiar with the nooks and crannies of the sizable manor. however, if you were lucky and stealthy enough, you could attempt to temporarily hide from some rooms until you manage your way to the back door exit without getting caught.

you trudge towards the door, unsure with the plan in your head but too exhausted to make a fool proof one. you slowly push the door with all your strength, you slowly step out and the guard to your right immediately spots you. that’s expected.

“ma’am? you shouldn’t be up and walking around, the marquis specifically instructed that you stayed in your room.” the guard reprimands to you.

“i need to get to the doctor right away. i need the prescription for these painkillers he gave me. you know, in case i need more,” you lie to him.

“we can call for him, so he may come back. easier that way, no hassle for you.”

“i can’t wait for him, it’s urgent. please, i really need this.” you plead to him.

The guard feigns a look of hesitation from your reply. you hold your breath, praying he falls for your folly. he lets out a sigh then answers to you.

“alright, ma’am. but I’ll have to accompany you.”

“thank you.”

the both of you began to walk towards the medic’s office, thankfully the back door was close to the office. silence ensues the walk towards the destination, as you walk you plot your escape. as soon as you make a left, you bolt and run. the pathway to the medic’s was a bit of a maze, hopefully it would confuse the guard and either make the wrong turns or slow down from catching up on you.

several minutes and paces pass by and you finally see the opening to your escape. as soon you made the turn, you ran. a grunt of shock exits the guard’s mouth before scurrying to go after you. then you encounter the turns required for your escape. you move around hastily and once you look back you see that the guard was no longer on your tail. but you couldn’t afford to slow down, sooner or later he might catch up to you or worse another guard captures you.

you could hear bouts of masculine shouts throughout the manor as it bounced off the walls. it filled your stomach with dread and veins pumped full of adrenaline as your heart beat with trepidation. anxious that perhaps the marquis was informed of your ongoing escape.

finally you see the lavish curtain adorned with elegant designs, you shove the curtain aside and search for the door with your hands. for a second, you thought you’d arrived at the wrong place until a soft click entered your ears and your insides warm from happiness. the door was just as heavy as the others and with all your strength you pushed it open half way. you turn to properly fix the curtain making sure no trace of your escape was visible then shut the door as it creaked loudly, cementing the success of your breakout.

you burst open through your door, quickly shutting and locking it. adrenaline and paranoia filled your senses, afraid that you’d been followed to your home and that soon someone was banging on your door until it fell down. you press your back against the door and sink to the floor and sigh in relief.

you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes for a while, relishing in the comfort of your apartment. you look around glad to see the familiar sight of your home and the sudden purring of your cat. you glance as you see him making his way towards you, a small smile curves your mouth.

ah..one of the burdens are coming to comfort me.

as he nears, you scoop him into your arms and nestle him on your chest. you wish it could stay like this for a while, that you weren’t actively avoiding your slightly deranged boss (that is in love with you?) but merely coming home from a long day to seek comfort from your cat. the ball of fur purrs and vibrations are felt through his body.

you pull away from your cat and get on your feet, making your way to your room for a well earned rest from doing a five mile marathon trying not to get caught. the adrenaline and paranoia was finally long gone.

you needed this. you need to hide out for a while before you face the awkward and confusing truth of reality. the comforting sensation home has given you brought you to sanity. you need to leave.

the guards open the door for him as per usual. although, he can sense fear radiating from them, and due to the intensity of the previous occurrence they were walking eggshells around him again. he enters the room, your room specifically. a few hours ago, the both of you were here and now you were gone, again.

vincent was annoyed. the very people he instructed to keep you in this room failed to obey the task but also lost you as you ran from your escort. not only did you leave this room but you also escaped the estate. how in the world did that happen?

he had no idea you’d be this slippery even with the strict bodyguards instructed to protect and detain keep you in the room. he expected verbal resistance not bloody remus john lupin. isn’t this so sweet? you. the gift that keeps giving.

he doesn’t let his men continue the search, after all there was only one place you could’ve been. in that apartment you live in for the past years, he knows where it is and what floor you are due to the investigation he’d imposed upon you a few years ago. so no worries, he only has his men posted around the structure to make sure you don’t leave. it’s much more strict and controlled than before, this time if they saw you exit the building they’d immediately grab you and bring you back to the estate. so win-win.

although, he prefers to have you here right now, he tries to understand that you’re probably overwhelmed with the surge of events that happened ever since that night. so he lets it pass. as much it insults his pride but he’s not in a hurry to have you stay with him for the rest of your days now that you’re awake. you’ve kept all what you felt from hidden because of his power,his intimidation and his pride. he doesn’t want to lose you again because of it. so he lets it happen, a few hours without you was a price worth paying for a lifetime loving you.

after all love does odd things to people that even the normal human cannot comprehend, love has its mysterious ways and that he can understand for you, even if it wasn’t all going according to what he wanted, he can swallow that down for you. you’ll be all worth it.

he can imagine waking up next to you in the early mornings, grazing your soft palm then slowly kissing your pulse while you sat next to him during dinner and the sweet kisses the both of you would share in the privacy of his room. he can fantasize the sweet dreams and the sinful acts he can do to you when you are finally his.

he inhales the air inside the room, the scent of you evident in the room, like a bloody handprint in a crime scene, attempting to calm himself with the remnants of your presence.

oh..he really misses you.

why do you have to be so stubborn? why do you feel the need to resist him and his love? he’s simply doing this for your best, for your safety. why can’t you just let him do this for you?

this moment should be joyous and exciting between the two of you, because you’ve both found a chance at love. how often does that happen? especially in a workplace, how often does someone find the love of their life within close proximity with them? little to none. he wants to beg you to stay, to journey through the uncharted territory together. don’t leave him, don’t.

he’s finally realized that he loves you, let him show it. let that love melt all that fear you hold in your heart. because it’s all right now, he’s here, let him love you, let him protect you, let him yearn for you.

something vibrates in his pocket, it snaps him out of his trance. a notification beeps through his phone and he leisurely opens it knowing it’s probably a reminder for a meeting. he’s found it hard to arrive at his events on time even with a temporary assistant assigned to him. the latest one wasn’t as sharp and attentive as you, which he found irritating. he really misses you.

the message that laid before his eyes almost made his heart drop.

EMAIL 8:35 PM

SUBJECT: RESIGNATION LETTER

author’s note: this was long…plus i recycled some dialogue bc school’s kicking me in the ass and i couldn’t form coherent stuff for that. i will compensate for that…with another fic…

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik @ilunapb @hesvoid3434 @heartrot666

part one part two part three part five

#bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard icons #john wick #oneshot #john wick four #john wick fic #keanu reeves #yandere #obsessive #yandere x reader #yearning

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wildwheatfields · 6 months

Text

❄️🗻 My name is Abbey, and I feel deep 🗻❄️

She has a WONDERFUL design n I love her music video. Her colors—delicious.

I’m not sure if they really gave her any interests besides protecting the environment like in the show so I’m thinking she’s a mad skilled dancer. She was killin it in her video!!

I know they choose small animals or baby animals for pets but cmon Tundra would be huge! A baby wooly mammoth!!! She’d be a sweetie pie n basically Abbey’s only friend for a while, I love that goober

Process for Abbey will be up on my ko-fi tonight

ko-fi.com/wildwheatfields

#my art #abbey bominable #monster high #monster high gen 3 #mhg3 #mh #mh g3

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Playing Pretend (Part 2)

Drinks before dinner get uncomfortable- and exciting- quickly.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, alcohol, a smidge of angst because that's what happens when your sister marries your ex

Series Masterlist

“I thought the big fancy dinner was tomorrow,” Roy mumbled as he pulled a dress shirt out of his suitcase and held it up to check for wrinkles.

After settling into the room you’d be sharing for the weekend, the two of you had spent about an hour laying on the bed next to each other and reading the books you’d each brought before you informed him that it was time to get ready for dinner.

“Oh, it is,” you agreed, pulling out a dress from your own luggage. “Tonight’s just family. My parents and sisters, Jim’s parents.” You paused, looking up at Roy. “You, apparently.”

Roy rolled his eyes and tugged off the Richmond sweater he’d worn on the drive. You blushed, averting your eyes from his wooly chest to focus on the dress in your hands. “Fucking rich people,” he muttered.

A scoff escaped your lips. “Roy, you’re rich,” you reminded him. “You drive a car that costs more than I make in a year.”

“Hey, you told me you like that car.” He buttoned up his shirt and posed. “How do I look?”

You couldn’t help but melt a little as you looked at him in his black dress shirt and equally black jeans. “Perfect.” Realizing you’d been staring for a moment too long, you tightened your grip on your dress. “Be right back.” You stepped into the bathroom attached to the room you’d be sharing with Roy- something you tried not to think too hard about- and changed into the dress. Frustration crossed your mind when you realized you couldn’t quite reach the zipper. “Roy!” you called.

“What?” came his gruff voice.

You poked your head back into the bedroom. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

An expression you couldn’t quite read crossed his face. “Can’t you, I dunno, go ask your mum or your sister to help you?”

“Come on, Roy.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. This is a boyfriend job. How would it look if I go ask my mum to help me with my dress when you’re right there?”

“Fine, fine.” He crossed the room and spun you around, so your back was to him. You were sure you were imagining the shaky breath he let out and the trembling you felt as he slowly zipped up your dress. Roy had no reason to be nervous; you were just the silly kid who used to beg him to play Barbies with you and his sister.

But still, the domesticity of the moment made your heart sing a little.

“Thank you,” you hummed. You slipped on your shoes and gave a little spin. “Now, how do I look?”

His face went all soft, your favorite look in the world. “Perfect.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, you took his hand, not sure if you were more anxious about the first event of the weekend or the simple act of holding Roy Kent’s hand. Maybe a bit of both.

The walk to the drawing room felt weirdly familiar; you’d been here many times with Jim, for weddings and anniversaries and birthdays and holidays and just-for-fun. A sad part of you wondered how many times Lauren had been here. An even sadder part of you realized that she was probably sleeping in the same room you used to sleep in.

As if he could feel the sudden pang in your heart, Roy gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’m probably going to repeat myself all fucking weekend,” he whispered, “but I’m right here. I’ve got you. Don’t you fucking forget that.”

Some of the sharp pain in your chest evaporated as you squeezed back. “I know, Roy.”

“Roy! Darling!”

As soon as you stepped into the drawing room, you mother made a beeline for the two of you, throwing her arms around Roy. Your dad followed behind, eyebrows slightly raised as he gave you a small hug and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Hello,” Roy said, genuine cheer in his voice as your mother released him. He shook your dad’s hand warmly. “Hope I’m not intruding on the weekend.”

Your mum shook her head “Absolutely not. You’re always welcome with us, you know that, dear. Especially-” She shot you a look. “-if what we hear about you and our little duckling is true?”

Roy wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to himself. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s grand,” you dad assured him. “Always had a good feeling about the two of you.” He gestured towards the room. “Come on in, we’re doing the whole cocktails before dinner thing.” Your dad wrinkled his nose at you; even when you dated Jim, he was always uncomfortable with how posh Jim’s family was. However, he never said no to the chance to drink good alcohol, as evidenced by the glass in his hand.

Roy guided you to one of the elegant couches, tenderly placing a hand on your knee once you were seated beside him. Despite your agony surrounding this weekend, part of you hoped it would never end, if only so you could always have all this attention and affection from Roy.

As if determined to ruin any bit of happiness you got this dreadful weekend, your sister and Jim appeared, drinks in hand. Lauren had that plastic smile you knew she’d be wearing for the next three days.

“You two get that alone time?” she teased, shooting you a mocking wink.

You just smiled and leaned closer to Roy, treating him like the lifesaver he was. He planted a soft kiss in your hair that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Lauren,” he hummed, raising those thick eyebrows that you loved.

“Fathers prefer no kissing,” your dad chimed in with a dry chuckle. “But I can make an exception for Roy.”

Roy’s smile widened. “Appreciate it,” he laughed. He loved the way your dad treated him; even when you dated Jim, your dad treated Roy like a son. His sister had even confided in him that it was a point of contention in your relationship, what with your dad never being as warm with Jim.

Gripping his drink rather tightly, Jim gestured between the two of you. “Alright, so I got interrupted earlier. How’d this happen?”

Shit. You’d forgotten to get your story straight with Roy. The two of you had spent the whole drive up chatting about childhood memories, movies you wanted to show each other, stories from work, and even one enthusiastic duet of You Belong With Me when it came on the road trip playlist you’d had blasting from your phone. It hadn’t occurred to you to make sure the two of you knew what to say when everyone inevitably wanted to know about your “relationship”.

You prayed only Roy could see the panic in your eyes as you looked up at him. “D’you want to tell the story?” you offered.

He didn’t skip a beat. “Well, about what, two months ago, babe?” He looked down at you, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “We were hanging out, and my sister had canceled so it was just us. I took over kebabs, and we were watching His Girl Friday, this one’s favorite.”

Everything he’d said so far was true; the three of you were supposed to hang out, but Roy’s sister had backed out at the last second, so Roy came over anyway. And he’d claimed not to care what movie you watched, so you put on an old Cary Grant movie that you’d seen a million times (and Roy had been forced to watch about half a million times). It had been a perfect night, sitting next to Roy while Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell danced around their feelings before finally coming together.

Roy continued, “And I looked over and saw just how absolutely beautiful she looked, with the light from the television glowing on her face and that dreamy expression she gets when she watches old movies.” He looked down, all bashfulness, before turning his gaze to you. You were amazed by his acting. “And I just fucking asked if I could kiss her, and she said yes. So, I leaned over and…”

It was the kiss you’d waited your whole life for. His hand came up to tenderly lift your chin, tilting your face to his. His barely parted lips were soft, gentle, his beard just barely tickling your skin. Every daydream you’d ever had about Roy Kent was nothing compared to the tiny kiss that ended far too soon.

Bashfulness reappeared on Roy’s face as he cleared his throat, remembering all the eyes on the two of you. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled. “We’re still in that lovey-dovey phase where we can’t keep our hands off each other and make everyone around us want to get violently ill.” His eyes focused icily on Jim. “You remember that, don’t you Jim?

Jim nearly choked on his drink.

“With Lauren,” Roy clarified, nodding towards your sister, whose face was twisted in annoyance. “How’d you two kids meet anyway?”

“Why don’t I get you a drink, Roy?” Jim offered quickly, his face void of all color. “Beer?”

Roy’s hand was back on your knee, gripping it a bit tighter now. “Whiskey. Neat.” He turned to you, his face softening. “And you?”

Jim shook his head. “I remember,” he assured you, shoving his own drink into Lauren’s hand and heading to the small bar off to one side of the room, the bar you remembered experimenting behind with Jim and his cousins once the older folks had gone to bed. You could still taste the disgusting combinations Jim had concocted for you to try. You could still hear the laughter that had filled the room as everyone took shots. You could still feel the sloppy kisses that tasted of expensive alcohol.

Sensing the tension oozing off of you, your parents excused themselves to go talk to Jim’s parents; they didn’t exactly need introductions, considering how many times they’d met while you were dating Jim.

Always perfect in her timing, your older sister, Jen, strolled into the room, shaking you out of your wistful reminiscing. She lit up when she saw the two of you and made a beeline for you, her husband, Paul, in tow.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? And there? And every-fucking-where?” she teased.

Roy laughed and stood, wrapping his arms around your older sister. “Hello, Jenny.” He turned his attention to your brother-in-law. “Paul, how the hell are you man?”

Paul shook Roy’s hand enthusiastically, the way he always did. “Great. Clearly you’re doing quite well yourself.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “I owe your dad forty quid. I had figured the two of you’d be dancing around this thing for the rest of your lives.”

“Paul!” you gasped, smacking your brother-in-law’s arm playfully. Behind closed doors, he loved to tease you about your painfully obvious attraction to Roy.

“I knew you two’d get together eventually,” Jen bragged, giving you a squeeze before you resumed your seats. “I mean, come on, we all could see the way you look at each other. Someone was bound to crack eventually.”

You let out a weak chuckle and leaned close to Roy, whose arm rested casually around your shoulders. Lauren watched you, eyes narrowed, as Jim returned. His hand shook slightly as he handed you your usual drink, the one he’d heard you order a million times. He handed Roy his whiskey and returned obediently to Lauren’s side, taking his own glass from her hand and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“We better go make sure things are ready for dinner,” Lauren hummed, grabbing Jim’s hand and pulling him out of the drawing room. You couldn’t help but notice Jim’s gaze lingering on you; neither could Roy, whose arm tightened around you.

Paul let out a low whistle. “This is going to be a tense weekend,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He turned to Jen. “We should start taking bets about when this one and Jim come to blows, eh?”

Roy let out a dry chuckle and sipped his drink, relaxing slightly. “We wouldn’t want me making Lauren a widow before she’s even married, would we?”

“Play nice,” you warned him playfully, poking his nose. Fake-dating Roy felt deliciously natural. At least, when Jim and Lauren weren’t around.

“Yes, dear.” Roy’s voice was light and teasing. He leaned forward and kissed your lips again, a smidge deeper this time. The taste of his whiskey sent your head spinning. “Whatever you say.”

#roy kent playing pretend #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff

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