#anyways sorry to anyone who reads this i am very sad and am unable to pick up a pen atm. so tumblr it is

[milkpansa-archive]

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[vermillioncrown]

This is going to be a huge post because you've picked up so much of what we put down I'm just 🥰🥹

@sunshinerotting replied to your post “(@rozaceous) dpnf ch 11: housebroken”:

will be rereading immediately but i love your guys’ characters very much and the way you write the canon characters makes so much sense. the way the people in that house interact with each other is so interesting to me because if tim was actually the normal boy he thinks he is the entire balance would be thrown off. no one else could’ve done what he does in that dynamic. they’re like a jigsaw puzzle to me. i have more thoughts give me a sec

thank you so much! roz and i keep joking that this fic is now an au of an au of an au of an au... and on and on, and then it's like. what makes this still a fic and not a fully original setting and work? we had to sell readers on a lot, that these characters (outside of our SIs) were still some flavor of canon. especially, "who is the core of tim drake?" and yeah, he's so not fucking normal. but he's not obviously wacky, either.

​out of order now i don’t remember chapter numbers: when jason showed up like a huge asshole i texted my friend about it. very much “he WOULD fucking do that but by god is it PISSING ME OFF” and it was!! love that genuinely. might not be what was intended but i do think he IS odd and sad and unable to move through the cycle of grief fully enough to show back up like a haunting and not expect it to get to allie like that. zero ability to understand how loved he is. 10/10 more...

GAH to know you texted abt our fic!!!! 🥹🥹🥹 best praise tbh. and the second sell: how is jason an asshole but worth rooting for later? or at least, allowed into the enclosure lol. we might not have had it summarized as neatly as you did, but roz and i are in full agreement you Read jason here. that's exactly what we wanted, that's so much of what we take from his character in various canons.

allie reminds me of a bobcat which feels weird to say but she’s so nonthreatening outwardly and she minds her business but the second someone steps in on her people it’s like Oh. oh right. teeth and claws. when jason showed back up i felt so much for her. there was no way for her to move. korvin acts in ways similar to me, which i will examine on my own time and not in your comments. i do love how everyone in this house has their own preferred flavor of Avoidance

you also have such a read on allie, i love it. i'll leave her to roz but i'll say my piece that i sometimes get bummed that korvin's so obviously wacky + a lot of gender stuff at play (the audience/demographic of ff readers, we live in a society and all that) that make more ppl focus on korvin over allie whereas they're both equally wack. and korvin's behavior makes the most sense when taken as a convoluted male re-socialization of someone initially female-socialized but rewarded in a male-dominated space. AND both of them are AuDHD, word of god putting that out there. add on the isekai brainworms, and yeah, isekai is just an extended analogy for masking → hence the different flavors of avoidance

tim is somehow the most well-adjusted in this regard, before jason shows up maybe, and thats so crazy. tim drake. Tim Drake ????comparatively well-adjusted to anyone ??? i know i’m forgetting something so i’ll come back but writing that down genuinely through me off a little bit. lol

you also recognize that jason ranks above tim in "well-adjusted" here, god, how does it feel to be so correct. and tim is well-adjusted here! he's never had to be a vigilante! but he's also much lonelier than in canon. something that made retrospective sense while we were writing is that he fell out of liking ball sports (despite not being a desk nerd) is that...who does he have to enjoy them with in this au?

threw not through. anyway I FORGOT ABOUT RUTABAGA. I AM SO SORRY RUTABAGA. the amount of love between the characters is so important to me bc it’s always there no matter how fucked the bats are about showing it normally. the brownstone does end up feeling like a safe space like it somehow feels so easy most of the time and then when tangential forces (sorry dick) show up it’s like the air changes. but allie and korvin and tim all have such Personalities its insane it works out like that.

RUTIE BEST GIRL, forgiven lol. YES YES YES there is so much love and it's like, the love doesn't stop you from doing the work. the bats are so fucked up, and we only get a glimpse of dick and korvin's relationship where you can see the maladapted consequences on both of their parts, dick not being fully equipped to "raise" korvin and korvin wanting to be easy/convenient for dick. and korvin's deep-seated not-abandonment issues tied with family and cultural trauma/burden.

(i still stand by the "good older brother dick grayson" tag, he's just. oh there's a lot. if you read between the lines there's so much being implied for TPAC)

but having allie in this 'verse, allie and korvin together ground each other. that's why they're so co-dependent in the beginning (it's healthier at the end), that's why they still had the wherewithal to seek an outside friend, and yes, that is why the brownstone is like that. their place that they made with their own hands.

obviously jason was an issue initially (it felt redundant to write that sentence) but he’s such a necessary part of them by being 1) necessary to allie and 2) the catalyst allie and korvin needed to end up where they are. i do think ppl that important to each other need one big unavoidable conflict to avoid stagnation like obviously he was a necessary part of the story but he was a Necessary Part Of The Story. does this make sense?? four strand braid.

AND YES DUDE you literally. we were writing this and we had the vibe, but we literally did not articulate it to each other until the very end that jason's actually necessary to make all of them normal. i love everything you're saying about needing one unavoidable conflict to resolve. he is part of a four strand braid. it's so strong. it's critical. korvin still finds jason annoying and vice versa. and yet they'd both say the household contains all of them by the end.

i just like that they start off alone and end up together. that’s my thing. jigsaw puzzle. polycule of all time. i can’t think of a way in which another person would ever get that close to them the dynamics are so perfect to me. every need is accounted for. its like a perfect little box in my mind. i think thats it for now lol i’m happy you guys write together. not just bc i love it but also bc it’s so clear u guys have fun doing it and that makes me happy <3

WE MADE IT. it's one thing to prescribe "hey guys this is a polycule" but selling it? the logistics of a polycule? not so easy, and it has to be tailored to the situation and characters. not all of them are romantically/sexually involved, nor do they have straight-forward relationships (hence, qpr), so having you say it fits and they seem seamless is like. top tier praise. coherence, it's everything we've aimed for.

thank you for all of your thoughts! we do have tons of fun and that's why we love sharing what we have! and we hope to keep doing projects like this, or we'll just be at each other's side while we work on our individual fics.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! - 5th Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hello again. Well I thought to end the birthday weekend with a bang I will post another chapter. Now this chapter is very sappy in some places just giving fair warning! If anyone also wants to listen to some music while they read I have a few recommendations. I will put in bold where to start listening to a certain song, I was listening to it when I wrote it and I was a mess. I do have to give a trigger warning so I will down below. Anyway I hope you enjoy, thank you for all the love it makes me so happy. I have never posted my writing anywhere so for it to be met with such praise is really amazing. I have more to come so don't you worry! As always this is based off the HBO series and the actors who portray these characters, no disrespect to the WW2 men!

Bold in the story start listening to Killer + The Sound by Phoebe Bridgers. Also another really sad song that is good for the mood is epiphany by Taylor Swift.

Trigger warning: Sexual assault, death, violence. (I think that is all sorry if I missed any)

Snow crunches under my feet as I walk. I tread carefully, not being able to see very far in front of me due to the heavy fog that lays in the trees. In this position in the forest we are basically on top of the Germans so it is easy if you walk too far to go over enemy lines and fall upon an infantry of soldiers. I wrap my jacket around my body as heat escapes me, I search the ground trying to find a good place to go to the toilet. The forest is eerily quiet apart from the sounds of distant gunshots and explosions. There are no other signs of life, no birds in the trees, insects, or small animals that normally reside in the forest. We seem to have cleared them all out, unlike us, they know better to stay here and have found shelter somewhere else. I keep my eyes vigilant scanning the forest as I walk, turning to look behind me like a paranoid girl walking home in the dark. I continue through the snow scouting for the best spot, I pause looking up at a lifeless figure lying in the snow. My heart stops. He is definitely not an American soldier, my eyes frantically scan as I am a deer in headlights. My eyes wander over more bodies, they lie still with a light coating of white resting on their skin. Is it bad that my heart relaxes knowing that all of them are dead and I get to live another day. I stumble back from the scene in front of me, making my way back to camp. I walk for a bit before finding three men, my heart leaps in fright, “Flash.” I call to them unable to see their uniforms in the dense fog. “Thunder.” The men reply. I make my way over to them. “Hey, just to let you know just up ahead there is an infantry of German soldiers, fortunately they are all dead.” I say walking past them. 

“Emily, isn’t it?” One of the men turns to me, I don’t recognise him, I don’t think he is from Easy company. 

“Yes?” I say, I guess he knows me. I mean there wouldn’t be many other female medics in the company and gossip does spread like wildfire around here.

A sinister grin forms on the man’s lips as the two behind me stare with cold eyes. I give a small smile, making my way past the men, my gut clenching not being comfortable in this situation. In a blur I am flung back, the man seems to have captured my mouth with a cloth yanking me back by my head. My legs fly out from beneath me from the shift in gravity. I plummet to the ground landing on my back the air from my lungs being knocked out of me. The men work in quick motions, the one with the gag tying it around my mouth while the others flip me over hog tying my limbs. I writhe on the ground, the gag muffling my protesting screams. They talk to each other quietly as they flip me onto my back. 

“Shhh.” One of them whispers in my face. His nose pressed to my cheek. Tears well in my eyes, I can’t move away from the man’s breath fanning on my face. His hands come up cupping my face, he presses wet kisses to my cheeks trailing down my neck. My stomach lurches, threatening to bring up my lunch. I choke back tears, trying to squirm away from his hold. The other men take this opportunity to grab at my clothes, their filthy hands making their way under my clothes, groping and grabbing at my skin. The man kissing me rips my top open exposing my t-shirt underneath. Before they can go any further rapid gunfire echoes around the woods the gun sounds close. There is a pause before the shooting goes again this time hitting trees around us, the men duck waiting for the break in rounds. When it stops they get to their feet hastily darting out of sight running back in the direction of camp. I wriggle trying to free myself from the knots around my limbs, but the more I struggle the tighter they become. I don’t call out terrified I will be found by German soldiers. The cold nips at my torso as the men left me uncovered only in my t-shirt. Time passes as I try to figure out how the hell to free myself from the ropes. I am stuck on my side, lying in the cold snow. My teeth chatter into the gag, as I try everything to free myself from the binds. After a while I stop shivering, my eyes grow tired begging me to let them close and slip away into a never ending slumber. I can tell I am in the later stages of hypothermia. My body doesn’t ache anymore, the cold making its way through my bones till my whole body is numb. Maybe if I fall asleep here I will wake back up in my own timeline where I left. After all this time being out here I finally give up, letting my eyes close ready for the most peaceful sleep I have had in a while now. I hear the crunch of boots in snow, I don’t open my eyes or call attention to myself. I'm too tired. The crunch comes closer. 

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ!” I hear in the distance. Hands land on my body, I crack my eyes open only seeing a blurry figure hovering above me. 

“Emily?” I hear the man say, he gently shakes me but I can’t get my eyes to open. A hand taps my face and I crack my eyes open slightly. I feel the gag being untied from the back of my head. I’m grateful to be able to breathe properly as I suck in a gulp of air.  

“OMG you’re alive.” The voice is familiar but my brain is too foggy to connect the voice to the man. My weight is shifted, my head lolls back as the ground leaves from behind me. I keep my eyes closed, the tightness around my limb loosens. I am gathered into the man's arms. I feel him stand, pressing me to his chest. I hear the rapid footfall of the man as we run through the forest. I open my eyes slightly, seeing a blurry man looking concerned. I focus my eyes on the canopy above us watching the green against the white sky. What a beautiful sight to see, the contrast of the almost black green against the pure white. I close my eyes again. 

“MEDIC, MEDIC!” I hear the man yell his calls rumbling through his chest into me.

“Jesus Christ, who is that?” Someone else says. 

“It’s Emily! I found her fucking hog tied and half stripped near enemy lines.” He pants. Other hands land on my body, my eyelids being pulled open, two heads hover above me as a light shines in my eye. Hands land on my body doing a secondary survey to find other injuries. 

“She has some bruising on her torso but other than that no other injuries. But she is hypothermic. We have to get her warm, give her to me.” I hear the other man say. The grip of the man holding me tightens. 

“No, she’s staying with me.” They squeeze me into them. 

“Ok, well she has to get warm.” The other man agrees.

“Are we not taking her to the hospital?” The man holding me asks.

“No, we might lose her if we take her. We need to get her warm immediately. Follow me.” I feel us moving again as we follow the medic. We march forward, sounds of gunshots ring out, the man drops us to the floor, my head snaps back from the sudden movement. 

“Jesus Malarkey be careful, we don’t need her with a concussion as well as hypothermia.” Scolds the medic. We soon move forward again after the coast is clear.    

“Captain Winters, Sir. We need to use your foxhole.” The medic says. 

“Why what’s going on? Who is that?” Asks the Captain. 

“It’s Emily Sir. I found her tied up by enemy lines, her clothes were ripped off of her.” Malarkey interjects. 

“She’s severely hypothermic Sir, we may lose her if we don’t act fast.” The other voice says. 

“Get her in the foxhole, I will get some blankets.” The Captain commands. I hear the sound of shuffling. 

“Here pass her to me, and then you get in.” The medic says, I feel my body being moved from one person to another, I am lowered down into a hole. I feel myself being set on the hard floor. The sound of someone landing sounds next to me. I am again passed to a set of arms. 

“Take off your jacket, put it over you two. The fastest way we are going to get her warm is with our own body heat.” There is movement behind me, soon after I am pressed against a warm chest as a jacket is laid over my torso. I feel his legs on either side of mine, my face pressed into the crook of his neck. He swivels my body so my legs are draped over one of his legs, he presses me as closely as he can to himself. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok, you’re going to be ok.” He coos I’m unsure if it’s to make me or him feel better. His hand runs down my hair in a gentle manner, like putting a child to sleep. More movement sounds from above us. I want to open my eyes and look at who is holding me, to gather my bearings but my body is so slow and tired it doesn’t have the energy to do the simple task. It’s like I have sleep paralysis, I am lucid hearing everything around me just unable to move. My body is only keeping my heart pumping and nothing else, trying to conserve the little energy it has left. 

“Blankets Malarkey.” I hear a familiar voice from above us. I feel the weight of the blankets being placed on us. 

“Who did this Don?” I hear Winters asks. 

“I don’t know Sir. She was so close to enemy lines the Krauts could’ve done it.” Malarkey suspects. 

I hear footsteps coming down to our level. “Gene, she's freezing.” Malarkey says concerned. 

“We are going to have to switch between the men, have them come back to warm her up. If you sit with her too long you might also become too cold. We will do hour stints. I will send someone back from the line to take over for you.” Gene says he also seems concerned. I feel fingers taking my pulse on my wrist. 

“Her pulse is slow and faint.” Gene says anxious. “Her breathing is also very shallow. Keep her airway open, also talk to her, you don’t know if she can hear us or not, we don’t want her to panic, it could make her situation worse.” Gene instructs. “I have to get back to the front. I will send someone back in an hour.” I hear Gene leave. Malarkey gently rocks us back and forward; his breathing is more frantic than normal. 

“Emmy, you’ll be ok.” He hums in my ear. “How about I tell you a story?” He asks even though I can’t reply. “Do you know I was a volunteer firefighter? I was a firefighter when there was a huge fire in the Tillamook forest, I don’t know if you heard about it or not?” His gentle voice tells me stories for the hour. Footsteps sound from above us, I have been in and out of consciousness with Malarkey, becoming ludic through his stories he told then falling back into darkness. 

“God, so it is true.” I hear from above us. Malarkey jerks. I think he had fallen asleep while holding me. 

“Is she any better?” The man above us asks. 

“No, she is still freezing and she hasn’t woken either.” Malarkey replies. “Introduce yourself to her and talk to her in case it helps her come around.” Malarkey instructs Gene’s requests to the new man. 

“I know Doc gave me the rundown, it’s all anyone is talking about on the front. They almost rioted you know. The men all wanted to come back to be with her.” I hear his voice come closer as he lands in the foxhole. I am shifted as Malarkey moves from behind me, I am slowly lowered into a new body. 

“Hey Em. It’s Lieb.” He says from behind me. He makes himself comfortable sitting me between his legs. He has my back pressed to his chest, my head resting on his shoulder, he wraps his arms around my front pulling up the blankets to my chin.

“What happened Em, you said you were just going to the toilet? Who found you? I knew I should’ve come with you. What do they say about the buddy system? Stick to it, that's what they say, god I never should’ve let you go.” Lieb mutters in annoyance, but he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. His fingers trail small circles on my arms. 

“God Em you’re freezing!” He pulls me tighter to him trying to trap the heat between us. 

“When I get my hands on whoever did this Em. They are going to wish they were never born.” Lieb fumes. “But you gotta come back to us, ok, you can’t leave us. What are we going to do without you? I don’t mean to sound sappy but you bring so much joy Em. If you don’t make it through this, I don’t think we can carry on.” Lieb leans his head into my shoulder, almost begging me to stay. But I feel this string pulling me, telling me to just fall into the darkness, to just fade slowly. 

“Please Emmy. I don’t beg, you know I don’t! But you gotta fight this, it may seem easy to leave but stay, stay for us.” Lieb mumbles into my shoulder. After a while he begins to talk again telling me about his family, about his job he used to do as a barber. Again like with Malarkey I fade in and out of consciousness. I become lucid when my body is being moved once more. A big figure sits behind me, I know these arms. Bull curls me into his lap, unlike with Lieb he faces me towards him, tucking my head under his chin. Our chests are pressed together like the signature bear hug he is known for. 

“Oh Darlin’ you’re breaking my heart.” He whispers, stroking strands of hair off of my face. “I hate seeing you like this.” He mumbles, sounding close to tears. I hear footsteps approaching.

“How is she Bull?” Winters asks.

“Sir she is still cold, when is Gene coming to check on her next?” Bull’s voice rumbles in his chest as he speaks to the Captain. 

“He’s coming!” Winters replies. “Who’s next after you?” 

“I’m not sure Sir, Gene is just picking people at random. But the men are keeping time of the stints, so most are volunteering to come back to be here when they know the hour is almost up.” Bull replies. “I think Toye and Bill said they would come back if needed, same with Babe and Luz and a few of the other men as well.” 

“How is she?” A new voice sounds from above, it’s Nixon he sounds tired and stressed.

“I don’t think she’s any better.” Bull says worried. “She hasn’t moved a muscle, I don’t think I have even seen her open her eyes.” Bull’s warm breath tickles my neck as he speaks. 

“We should start a fire that will warm her up.” Nixon says. 

“No Nix, that's how we will get her blown to bits, we don’t need to give away our position.” Winters dismisses Nixon’s idea. 

“Gene!” I hear Nixon call. Feet land next to Bull and I. Fingers grab my wrist softly pressing into my outer arm. Everyone seems to be waiting with baited breath. 

“Well?” Bull asks. I hear a small tutt from Gene, “She’s the same as last time, does she feel any warmer?” 

“A little bit nothing drastic, she’s still not hot enough.” The concern is evident in everyone's voices. I should be better by now! I want to sit up and shake out my sore, stiff limbs but my body is paralysed. I groan internally, wake up! I beg my body but it ignores my request. Open your eyes! I plead. I focus all of my energy into the task, I can feel my eyes moving from under my eyelids but to no avail. All that energy for nothing, I slowly feel myself slipping. No! No! Stay lucid, but it’s too late my mind shuts down and blackness swallows me whole. I can’t remember how long I have been in this hole, multiple people have come and gone. Toye was after Bull. He didn't say much but his fingers traced pictures onto my skin. Bill was next and he told me funny stories from his past. Babe and Luz came after, holding me close, whispering sweet stories and making jokes. But still after each one the outcome was the same, I can imagine the small shake of his head that Gene gave each time he checked on me, the disappointed sighs after he revealed the news to each of the men.

“This isn’t working.” I can hear Nixon’s voice in the distance; he's frantic. 

“It will work, give it time.” Winters tries to convince the man but his voice isn’t as sure as his words.     

Malarkey is with me again, he snores softly while holding me close, his arms wrapped tightly around me like I am a little china doll. 

“Malarkey!” Winters says from behind us. Malarkey jolts upright.

“Yes, Sir!” He says quickly. 

“Get some rest, I can take care of Emily for a while.” Winters says coming into the foxhole. 

“Are you sure Sir?” Malarkey asks, his arms still wrapped around me. 

“I’m sure.” Winters confirms. Malarkey takes a moment, sighing, he bends his head forward pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering. “I’ll come back later ok?” he whispers to me, finally passing me over to Winters.

“Hey Emmy, you’re scaring us all to death today.” Winters says getting comfortable, holding me close to his chest. His hand rubbing up and down my arm, his chin rests on top of my head. 

“I know you’re in there Em, you’re a fighter. You always persevere, and I’m so proud of you.” Winters whispers into the night. 

“There is nothing you can’t do, I believe you can come back from this Em. I don’t think I have ever met a person like you before. Everyone seems to love you, you’re infectious.” He continues. 

“But these men rely on us. We have to rise to the battle if not for ourselves, for them. You’re a hero, you have saved countless lives both with your medicine and with your love.” Winters breath fans my face.

“So for once save yourself, if we can’t you can. I don’t want these men to watch you go Em, it will break them more than they already are, and we are all broken. This war will scar us both physically and mentally, only we know what we have been through. We will go home once we win and have to pretend this part of our life didn’t happen. Like we didn’t see our friends get blown to shreds, or see the faces of the innocent men we have killed in everyday people. We will go home and have to pretend we don’t flinch at every backfiring car and go back to normalcy. We will meet often with the men we served with, slowly watching the numbers dwindle as they pass on, until one of us is left to carry the burden of what we know.” Winters talks to the night. A sob rises in my throat but it doesn’t leave, tears prick from under my eyelids, I feel them escape and run down my cheeks, the warm tears growing cold on my face. 

“Shhhh, it’s ok Em. Take your time, at least I know you can hear me.” Winters’ finger wiping the streaks of tears from my cheeks pressing me closer to him. He rocks us slowly like I am a child being lulled back to sleep. I drift into blackness once again. 

My eyes flutter open, my eyes roam around, I stand in a familiar hallway. I recognise the faded wallpaper and the smiling faces in the pictures on the walls. I make my way down knowing where I am going. I find myself in my childhood lounge, everything looks the same as I left it the day I moved out. My late mother sits on her favourite seat looking out the window.

“Momma?” I whisper not believing my eyes, her soft brown hair falling over her shoulders as she looks away from me. She turns I almost sob, her bright green eyes staring up at me, her same sweet smile making its way onto her face. 

“Hey baby.” She says in a familiar cadence. She reaches her hand out to me. I move my feet forward finding my way to her. I kneel beside her seat, her hands find my face, cupping my cheeks in the same way she used to do when I was upset. Her thumbs gently brush away tears falling down my face. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.” She smiles tilting her head. “You look so pretty my love.” 

My lip quivers, “I’ve missed you.” I say in a broken voice. 

“I know baby, but I have been watching you and I’m so proud of all that you have done.” She places a soft kiss on my cheek. 

“Are you staying?” Her brows knit together. A sob leaves my throat. 

“No Momma.” I whimper. “I can’t stay.” 

“It’s ok, I can wait a bit longer.” She pulls me into a hug, stroking my hair as I sob into her chest. 

“You’re so brave my love.” She whispers. We sit for a while in each other's arms, but in the end I stand, giving her a final kiss on her cheek as she walks me to the front door. I step out and feel myself fall.

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Chapter 6

[thatnarcissisticfeel]

hi! so i don’t rlly know how to even phrase this but lately i’ve had a lot of stuff getting worse, none of the “basic” diagnoses i have (like depression and anxiety and stuff) describes it at all. so i’ve started questioning if i maybe have a personality disorder bc it’d all make sense, both the behaviors and how i see the world and why its only getting worse and more noticeable now etc.

i keep finding myself in cluster B PD traits and lately ive been reading more on NPD and i genuinely completely see myself in the description of the covert subtype. i always blame others for everything and am completely unable of accepting or feeling guilt. nothing is ever my fault, its always someone else doing something or provoking me or it’s the way i was raised or it’s because of the system etc. i’m deeply insecure but hate showing any kind of vulnerability. when i’m in a vulnerable position i get ashamed and angry bc i cant stand feeling weak. i often get so angry i do shit that could easily destroy all the relationships i have. i never apologize (unless it’s a situation where i have to in order to save the relationship but still never actually feel sorry) bc that’s showing vulnerability and admitting i’m wrong. i always compare myself with others, i used to think this doesnt apply to me bc i generally don’t care about typical things such as popularity and status as i’ve always been an outcast - and it’s kind of a major part of my identity that i feel different than everyone else (even though its most likely just how i was forced to learn to cope with being excluded), but i’ve come to realize i absolutely do always see myself as “the worst one” in terms of mental health. i can’t stand others talking about their issues bc no you don’t even have it that bad at all, i’m worse. i feel like no one will ever be able to truly understand me bc the majority of people are npcs anyway. no one thinks for themselves, they dont have any self awareness and just do what they’re told. i treat others like shit but still expect them to be nice to me because i deserve it because i’m sick. i deserve more attention from doctors because of how unwell i feel. i should be the one that gets treated first. i obviously never voice these feelings but it makes me so pissed off when i have to wait like i’m never important enough for anyone. like there was this one case when i had to wait longer for my appointment bc some girl came in due to an emergency and all i felt was angry and annoyed and like when is it my turn to get taken seriously?? i completely lack affective empathy and very rarely genuinely care about others. others being sad annoys me and others being happy makes me angry, sometimes even to the point of having homicidal thoughts. i’m envious of pretty much everyone who i consider better off than me. and again i dont mean shit like money or clothes but more like just the ability to be normal, having close friends, being in a relationship, all that stuff i know i’ll never be able to have bc of my mental illnesses. i’ve never been able to form genuine relationships, i do have a few friends but they all mean nothing to me and are just there so i’m not lonely. i’ve never been able to feel love or affection for anyone. and when i think abt it i dont even really want to be like them, i just want to make them suffer. i lie to everyone and only reveal my “true” self when im having a breakdown and basically cant control myself anymore as i have so much suppressed anger inside i sometimes feel like i have to genuinely put effort into stopping myself from physically attacking others; who cares abt words when im that far gone. and even then i later turn it around and make it seem like im just depressed and stuff (which is true, but theres also so much more no one knows about). everyone around me considers me a shy meek polite nice caring person and it just feels so ironic.

idk what to do at this point, genuinely. writing it all down like this makes me sound so fucked up even though i act relatively normal when i’m stable enough. but in reality i feel like on the inside i’m just breaking, i’ve had to turn to drug abuse as its literally the only thing that helps me cope with everything & prevent me from being even more destructive (towards both others and myself) and its making me even more short tempered when im sober and even more paranoid someone’s going to find out and get me in trouble. my therapist knows about it but doesnt do shit. ive been on so many psych meds before but its as if literally nothing ever works on me. like i would never normally seek advice on tumblr out of all places but i thought just maybe i would get understood here as i keep getting just either ignored or insulted on places like reddit (sure jan calling me a psycho is definitely going to help my issues when all i did was fucking ask how to cope with my issues).

sorry abt the wall of text. do you have any advice? ive been going to therapy for years but its all useless. i cant be honest with anyone for pretty obvious reasons. i just really dont feel like living for much longer. but even just acknowledging this ask and not judging me would mean a lot.

I obviously can’t diagnose you, but I will say a LOT of what you said is behaviors that and I other NPDs do, which makes me think that even if you don’t have it, advice and such that is geared towards pwNPD could help you. Unfortunately there isn’t much self-help geared towards pwNPD (I say self-help bc clearly your therapist is not a good therapist for you and I know it would probably be difficult to get a new one), but DBT workbooks are a good place to start. I think they’re technically geared more towards BPD, but they can definitely still help narcissists. Stuff like this is why I hate how much NPD is stigmatized, because we all DO deserve help and we all DON’T deserve to feel like this.

It sounds pretty basic, but are you a part of anything like online NPD/cluster B support groups, ie discord servers? Obviously they’re not a cure-all, but even just being around people who have the same thing and who you don’t have to mask around can help. If you don’t have any I could happily provide some if I can find a public one. Of course, communities like that can be a hit or miss, but it’s definitely at least worth a shot to try to find a group of people who are struggling with the same thing.

Another piece of advice, which might sound completely neurotypical on the surface, is to start journaling or writing down feelings. It might seem like just a small thing but having a place that only you can access where you can talk about things like vulnerability could be a good starting point, because at least you’re admitting it to yourself and getting it out there in some way. Lying to everyone and not being able to show your true self is really exhausting, so having one space that’s yours and yours only where you can learn to be comfortable with being vulnerable — even if it’s just to yourself — is a tiny thing that can work wonders. It doesn’t have to be some super dramatic “dear diary, woe is me” type thing, it can be something as simple as “Today I fucked up, and I know I fucked up, but I still blame xyz, I hate xyz.” That way you’re getting the vulnerable thoughts AND the angry thoughts out there without 1.) hurting others with the angry thoughts or 2.) having to show vulnerabity which would hurt you.

Of course the end goal might be to “unlearn” the behaviors, so to speak, but that can’t be done overnight, and until it is done, it’s better to have a few places to be open, even if it’s just amongst yourself or other pwNPD.

I hope this helped, lmk if you need more advice — and definitely know that you’re not alone, as cheesy as it sounds.

[beware-of-soft-shoe-shufflers]

Hello, all of Tumblr,

I really doubt anybody's actually going to read or care about this post, because like who even follows me on Tumblr anyway, so I'm gonna just talk. Hi, I'm Sebastian, or Seb, or whatever you want to call me. I don't really post anything besides reblogs here, except my art, and maybe a poem. I'm here talking because I just really don't feel like my 2024 is going to be good at all, but I can't tell anyone else that because that would be ruining their fresh, new year, right. So, I'm here talking about it. It just feels like everything's bad, and nothing's going to get any better? You know? Like, I'm forced to go to college, even though I have no idea what I want to do with my life, no career ideas that stick. Yet, my parent makes me go to college because we're broke enough to have a full Pell grant, right? I can't drop out, because if I do, I'm deemed a failure and will probably lose my housing. I live with my parent, and have tried to move out, but I am unable to, if anyone cares to know that. I work a shitty restaurant job for minimum wage, which is not even livable, and go to school pretty much any day that I'm not working. It's soul-sucking, and it's made me realize that I actually hate being alive. I'm also just very lonely and sad all of the time? I have friends, but they all seem to hold me at an arm's length away. I just want people to like me, but I guess I come off too strongly, and nobody likes that. I find it hard to make new friends, and I guess the friends that I have don't really see me as a close friend. That would be fine, if it weren't all of them. I know that I am unlovable, and I usually tell myself that's fine, but some days it's way harder than others. I can't help but feel alone, and lost. I hate the sound of my own voice, the way I look, the way I feel. God, I could talk about how frustrating it is to live every day in this gross body for hours, but I'll try not to. I hate being intimate with others, because they always stare at me a little too long, I guess the sight of my bare skin bothers them. I don't know, but they never stay. "Your identity is just too confusing for me, sorry!" "I'm straight now, actually, sorry!" "You're just not my thing, sorry!"

Sorry that I can't look like a cis man. I can't start HRT, I can't get any sort of surgery, I'm just stuck like this until I'm older, and by then I'll be even uglier than I am now. So, it won't matter anyway. It infuriating and drives home even further that it's apparently just fucking impossible to love me. All this to say that maybe 2024 will be my last year. I don't know, I guess I'll just have to find out. I can't imagine living past the age of 25 or so, I have no idea how I ever could. It's just so difficult. I want to be my own person that people like, but when I try to show people who I am, they run away. It's like they're scared of me, or grossed out, or something. I don't know, but I hate being alive! Anyway, that's about it. Sorry for complaining so much, and for ruining your new year if you for some reason read this whole thing. I wish you the best for 2024, even if I'm not here to see it. Thank you for reading, if you did, I hope you're doing okay. Thank you.

[frenchly-anxious]

I'm sorry for the fact I'm going to rant again about ladies figure skating but I am oh so mad.

I just learned about Evgenia Medvedeva ending her figure skating competitive career and even if I can't say it was a surprise, I'm absolutely sick in the stomach when I read that she now has what could be a permanent, chronic back pain, because her spine grew/fused in a way that makes her unable to turn to her left. Something that started giving her trouble 4 years ago, at 18.

She hasn't stopped skating, as she does a lot of shows from what I could see. But really, really; I am just so angry and so sad. There's this question that kept popping into my mind everytime we learned new things about her and the other Eteri's students: was it worth it?

Was it worth it? The question made me uncomfortable, because who was I to make decision for her? She's an athlete and I'm not. Every athlete makes sacrifices. Maybe she considered and still considers it's worth it.

But then I realized. This question was never directed at her. It was never directed at the skaters. It was never directed at children who had dreams. Was it worth it? It was directed at all the adults around them. For their coachs, I imagine it was. Money, fame, glory, power. Who cares about a few girls scarred for life anyway. But for the judges? The ISU? The parents? The fans? Was it worth it to broadcast children destroying their life? Was it worth it to teach younger children "see, that how you should do it too"? Were those 4min30 of gracefullness worth the fact we encouraged this child to put their health and their whole future life at risk?

This was not a few athletes deciding to risk it all for a few medals. This was a bunch of adults making money by using children.

There's a reason children can't vote, can't drive a car, can't work and can't live on their own. Because they lack the experience, the emotional stability, the critical thinking to make informed choices. It's the adult's responsibility to make those choices during the time it takes children to gains those abilities.

Was it worth it? We can't ask that to those skaters. Because they were never given the chance to really ask themselves "Will it be worth it?" in the first place. When asked "do you want to become the best?", of course a kid who dedicated their entire short life to figure skating will not hesitate. And of course they won't take in consideration the fact it isn't healthy for their growth, both physical and emotional. That's not their job. It was the job of the adults around them.

I'm so mad because adults failed Yulia Lipnitskaya, Evgenia Medvedeva, Alina Zagitova, all the others who didn't make it as far as them, all the others still competing and starting to crumble. And I'm infinitely sick because we the adults keep failing them and all the other children to come. Because nothing changes, really. If anything, it's worse, as we glorify their bright but oh so very brief careers; as we clap for their impressive but incredibly psychologically and physically violent methods of training. You won't convince me telling kids to "stop being obsessed by food and only drink powdered drinks" is a good, normal way to treat anyone, athlete or not. Just like you won't convince me it's normal to have this kind of pathology at 18. You won't convince me either that it's okay for so many skaters of this particular school to go through the exact same pattern without anyone doing anything.

I remember a time when everyone was saying it wasn't good for young skaters, male or female, to do triple-triple, let alone quadruples at such a young age, as it would put too much stress on their growing body. Now we have 15 yo skaters doing what some adults wouldn't attempt and we praise them.

I loved watching them, I really did. But I can't enjoy it anymore knowing what will inevitably happen; what is currently happening.

Who need Squid Game? We have children slowly dying and/or killing each other under the pressure of expectation put on them by a broken system of adults which forgot its protective role for more money and influence.

The saddest part is, I don't think there's anything we can do anymore. I just wish longevity and health were the goal for everyone.

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[spencers-renaissance]

The Other Side of the Storm

Summary: Spencer & Luke are not out as a couple but have to attend the same FBI gala where a young, pretty agent insists on flirting with Luke. Misunderstandings and surprising reveals ensue.

Tags: relationship reveal, secret relationship, coming out, jealousy, caught, hurt/comfort, autistic spencer, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, found family, est. rel., cuddling & snuggling, domestic fluff

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Lets pretend I didn't just disappear for a couple of weeks bc I'm BACK now yay! This is written for a prompt from @ralvezhq who asked: "Ralvez is already dating but no one knows about them yet. they get invited to some sort of FBI gala and a young, accomplished female agent won’t stop flirting with luke and spencer is absolutely not having it so he finds a way to let everyone know they are together." -- I stuck to it except that they're caught rather than willingly confessing, I hope that's okay! I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you do as well.

!!!TW: the woman is very insistent on her flirting and makes Luke uncomfortable when she touches his chest without his consent!!!

“Any particular reason you keep looking over at that table full of Fugitive Task Force members, Spence?” JJ asks amusedly, sipping from her wine glass.

“Mm, I’ve noticed you looking over there a little bit,” Tara muses. “You got your eye on someone?”

Spencer looks down and forces a laugh, but he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink, and knows that he’s not gonna hear the end of this for the rest of the night. The team have never been fond of the FBI Galas they’re forced into attending every year, and unfortunately, Hotch’s usual stunt of pulling a non-urgent case from the stack and jetting off to some far-flung corner of the country to avoid it failed to fool the director this time.

He’d broken the news to them at the start of the week, and conversation in the bullpen has pretty much exclusively revolved around the event ever since. Even Penelope, who loves seeing people win awards and dressing up in her favourite full-glam outfits, has been significantly less upbeat. She only gave him one spontaneous hug all week.

None of them, though, have been dreading it more than Spencer. The others aren’t exactly fond of the faux smiles and convoluted politics and fake niceties either, sure, but tonight he has far more to lose than ever before. Namely, the man sat just out of his direct eye line at the Fugitive Task Force table.

Ironically, he and Luke had gotten ready for the same event together. They’d stood in the mirror side by side and tied one another’s ties in the way that always makes Spencer smile and Luke had gently brushed his hair out of eyes, but when it came time to leave, Spencer called a rideshare, and Luke drove the truck, arriving at completely different times in completely different vehicles.

The thing is, that as much as he loves his team, and as much as the FBI fraternisation policy has been significantly relaxed over the last few years, no one can know they’re together and have been for the last eight months.

Even the thought of Derek or Hotch or even JJ finding out — not only that he’s dating someone but that that person is a man — makes him feel queasy.

Which is why he smiles around an awkward cough and forces himself to meet the eyes of his profiler teammates, fighting every instinct in him to run, leg it out of here, never show your face again.

“No, I’m just looking at the clock above them,” he lies, and it isn’t smooth in any way shape or form but it’ll have to do. “You know I can’t wait for this to end. I haven’t read any Carl Jung in weeks.”

Tara laughs, raising her wine glass slightly. “Now that I understand.”

“Nah, I’m not so sure,” Derek grins slyly, “I think my man has his eye on some girl and he’s just getting a little shy, am I right, pretty boy?” He quirks an eyebrow playfully, leaning over to pat him on the back, and Spencer scrambles to recover.

“Believe whatever you’d like, Morgan,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips to conceal any tells in his expression. “Doesn’t make it any less false.”

Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by the Director clearing his throat into the mic on the stage as he introduces the next round of awards. Spencer loses himself in the anonymity of a dark room and a clapping audience, grateful that he’s avoided this round of interrogation.

The rest of the night progresses similarly. Spencer tries to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table — and valiantly attempts to keep from blushing like a schoolgirl when their eyes meet and Luke’s lips quirk upwards in an I-tried-to-stop-it-but-I-just-can’t kind of smile — and the rest of his team rib him pretty relentlessly about this ‘girl’ he supposedly has his eye on.

Hotch tries to get the team to leave him alone, but when a group of skilled, determined profilers all a little tipsy on wine and champagne encounter a friend’s mysterious love life, it’s pretty difficult to stand in their way.

Once dessert is served, though, things rapidly go downhill.

As much as he’s been trying to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table, it’s almost impossible to prevent his gaze from straying in a temporary moment of cognitive lapse every now and then, and while everyone is relatively quiet and occupied, digging into the Belgian waffle dessert, it happens once again. This time, though, instead of a small smile from Luke, he’s rewarded with the frankly heart-stopping sight of a young, pretty agent practically sitting in his lap, trying to feed him dessert.

He looks uncomfortable, and immediately Spencer is hit with an overwhelming wave of insecurity, jealousy, and an urge to protect that strangles his breath for a moment. He stares unabashedly, no longer caring whether anyone sees him because that’s his boyfriend and an extremely pretty woman is all over him and he looks like he wants her to stop, and oh my god, what does he do?

“Is that the girl you like all over that dude?” Derek asks sympathetically, catching onto Spencer’s staring. “It’s alright, man, if she’d choose someone else over you then she’s not right for you anyway. Why don’t you come and enjoy your dessert?”

Spencer senses the rest of the team’s eyes on him, but they don’t say anything, probably from a combination of pity, awkwardness, and confidence in Derek to counsel him through it. He’s hardly cognisant of that, though, instead a roar of emotion crashing through his mind, and he has no idea what to do about it.

When he sees a perfectly manicured hand land directly on Luke’s chest, though; when he sees Luke reject her more firmly, this time pushing her away; when he watches as she clearly gears herself up for some sad protest of self-victimisation, he sees red.

Before he can stop himself, he’s storming across the room over to Luke’s table. “Hi,” he says firmly, audibly pissed off and not in the mood for bullshit, “do you mind if I borrow my friend here? I have some official FBI business to discuss with him. Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs Luke’s arm and leads him to the corridor outside the main hall, Luke following quickly and willingly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks with his brow furrowed, his hand coming up to gently rest on Luke’s waist as he peers at him concernedly through the dim lighting of the hallway.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine,” Luke smiles reassuringly, raising a hand to Spencer’s face. “I’m sorry you had to see that. She was… persistent.”

“She shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that,” Spencer insists, still feeling distressed and anxious despite the immediate situation having been diffused.

“You’re right,” Luke agrees. “And she should’ve listened to me when I told her I was taken. I’m sorry you had to see someone flirting with me so openly like that, carinõ, I know you still get insecure about things like that.”

Spencer sighs, relaxing slowly the more he hears Luke’s voice as steady and strong and kind as it always is. He steps forward and buries his face in Luke’s neck as he nestles in close for a comforting hug.

“You know I only have eyes for you, right, sweetheart?” Luke whispers softly, one arm holding his waist and another tangling itself in Spencer’s loose curls.

He nods into Luke’s neck, but doesn’t make any move to pull away, just enjoying the warmth and closeness of standing so intimately with the man he loves until—

“Spencer!” Derek’s voice pulls him violently from his sweet escape from reality and horror instantly floods him as he jerks away from Luke, staring at Derek in a nauseating mixture of alarm and trepidation.

“What…” Derek stares right back at him as both JJ and Tara come tumbling through the doors behind him, looking ready for a fight—

Oh. That makes sense. They all saw him storming towards a woman they thought he had a crush on, then pull the man she was flirting with out into the most secluded corridor surrounding the hall. Even considering Spencer’s character, he has to admit that the circumstances definitely look like he was gearing up for a fight, and everyone knows that he is not the kind of person who could hold his own against an ex-military man who chases down criminals for a living.

“You’re… not fighting him,” Derek says hesitantly, the puzzle pieces clearly falling into place for him.

Spencer shakes his head minutely, and is only thankful when Luke inches closer and wraps an arm around him. After all, he has nothing more to lose.

“You were looking at him, not her,” Derek continues slowly.

Spencer nods, unable to meet the eyes of any of the three friends standing in front of him.

“You’re dating him,” he says, still sounding shocked, his voice almost entirely numb. “You’re gay.”

“Or bisexual,” Tara offers, and Spencer takes a little comfort in the fact that she doesn’t sound shocked or upset, her voice warm and helpful. He tries to meet her eye, but he can’t work up the courage and buries closer into Luke’s embrace instead.

“Gay,” he whispers.

“Spence,” JJ says quietly, earnestly, “why didn’t you tell us?”

It’s too much to go into right now, too convoluted and long of a story for him to explain when even choking out a single syllable takes a herculean effort, so he shrugs instead.

“We were talking all night assuming you were interested in a woman,” Derek says numbly, more to himself than anything, but Spencer watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes off the shock and comes back to himself, slowly putting more of the puzzle together as he looks at Spencer. “That’s why you didn’t tell us. We’ve been making assumptions all this time and hurting you in the process.”

“Oh, Spence,” JJ whispers sadly, stepping a little closer.

“I’m so sorry, pretty boy, I— I should’ve known or tried to be more inclusive at least, I’m so sorry I made you feel like this.”

The regret in his friends’ voices and the absence of a negative reaction brings him out of the safety of Luke’s arms slightly. His boyfriend is eyeing him with serious concern, and he tries a smile to reassure him a little, squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he manages, clearing his throat awkwardly as he finally succeeds in making eye contact. “It’s a long story and I’ll tell you another time, but, uh​​— this is Luke. We’ve been together for eight months, two weeks, and four days.”

Luke smiles fondly. “As much as we didn’t expect to reveal it like this, it’s nice to meet all of you properly,” Luke says warmly, shaking everyone’s hands quickly before stepping back to Spencer and interlocking their fingers, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss to his temple.

“I’m really glad you felt able to share this with us, Spence,” Tara says encouragingly, smiling at him in that bright, reassuring way of hers that rivals Penelope in the warmth and comfort it radiates. “I’m proud of you.”

Something about her reaction this entire time has him wondering whether she already knew. He’ll ask her later when he feels less like his heart is still firmly lodged in his throat.

“Me too, kid,” Derek agrees, smiling as well. Spencer wonders whether the initial shock and numb reaction was more a response to his own behaviour than anything about him and Luke, and the thought makes him feel substantially better.

JJ grins, stepping forward and grabbing Spencer’s other hand. “Me three.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the doors are opening again and Penelope is flying through them.

“Oh! Thank god you’re all okay! You just ran off after Spencer and I left you guys to it because I thought you could handle it better than I could but then you didn’t come back and even Hotch was worried, and—” she cuts herself off as she realises everyone staring at her, and slowly she takes in the scene around her. “Oh my god, I’ve missed something. Oh my god, I missed a moment, didn’t I? What have I told you guys about having moments without me? Someone tell me what happened, please, before I explode—”

“Alright, Penelope,” Spencer chuckles, interrupting her. He’s known her for too long to expect her to cut herself off when she’s on a tirade like that. “Uh, this is Luke. My boyfriend.”

“Your… your boyfriend? Oh my god, I finally get to meet him? Wait you told the others? Oh my god I’ve missed so much!”

“Penelope knew?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Half of mine and Spencer’s mutual friends are FBI Agents, and the other half are drag queens, of course I knew,” Penelope dismisses him, “but he wasn’t ready for me to meet his boyfriend yet or even know his name and I very nicely did not go hunting to find him out because I could’ve done that, but I didn’t, because I value you so much as a friend, Spencer, and I’m so glad you finally—”

“Penelope!” Spencer interjects, laughing even more as the tension and distress he’d felt only minutes ago finally melts away fully. “Do you actually want to introduce yourself to Luke, or do you want to keep rambling about drag queens?”

“Right! Yes!” she says eagerly, turning to Luke. “I’m Penelope and it is so nice to meet you, like you don’t even know how much I’ve wanted to meet the man who has my blueberry muffin blushing bright pink in the corner of my batcave while he texts on the phone, and I know you call him carinõ because I saw a text once and it’s the sweetest nickname ever, you are just the cutest, and we are going to be best friends—”

Spencer rests his head on Luke’s shoulder as he listens fondly to Penelope rambling and his friends chatting amongst themselves and everyone getting to know the most important man in his life — the only man he’s ever wanted anything long term with, the only man he’s ever wanted to actually marry one day — and a warm, sweet feeling of contentment floods his chest.

It’s far from the way he thought he’d feel after the team found about Luke, and he savours it, holds it in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing the memory and filing it away to treasure forever. A moment like this deserves that kind of reverence.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” Luke asks gently as they crawl into bed, tired but happy at gone 2am. He pulls Spencer into his side as soon as they’re under the duvet, resting his chin on his head as he always does.

Moments like these make Spencer smile, the kind of familiar routine that’s so essential to their relationship. Luke had figured out early on that close physical contact and firm touches make him feel safe and settle his racing mind, so they’d worked out positions that made them both feel comfortable, and now relaxing into them is second nature.

“A bit weird,” Spencer admits after thinking for a moment. “I’m happy that they know now and everyone took it well, but it’s strange. A significant part of who I am has been not only that I’m gay, but the dedication I felt to protecting that secret. And now that it’s out, it feels like something private has been bared for my friends to inspect.”

“I think that’s only natural,” Luke muses quietly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s curls. “It’ll take some getting used to, but you’ll adjust eventually.”

Spencer sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. After I tackle telling Hotch and Rossi, it’ll be nice not to have to hide it. I’ll be able to talk about you at work and maybe even go crazy and put a photo of you on my desk.”

“Wow, that is wild, check you out,” Luke chuckles, before they settle into a comfortable silence in the warm glow of their bedroom. Eventually, he speaks up though, quiet and reverent. “I’m proud of you, carinõ. I really am.”

The words instantly make Spencer smile, a light blush tinging his ears again. He hides his face in Luke’s chest, scooching impossibly closer into his arms. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” Luke replies, a happy sigh in his voice.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. His hand returns to Spencer’s hair and something clicks into place somewhere, a fundamental alignment of the universe that brings a feeling of something so incredibly right as their breathing rhythmically matches to one another and they slide into the welcome embrace of sleep.

I hope you enjoyed that! I had a lot of fun with this one. If anyone has any more ralvez relationship reveal prompts, feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto @cmily @nudgerox @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @downwiththedoorpoole @nomajdetective (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

[asmolboy]

OK but what if Shuichi was in DICE but lost a huge chunk more of his memories before the killing game? + very strong saiouma of the more really close and romantic lean. +some changed deaths and stuff

Shuichi opened his eyes groaning feeling his head looking around the classroom he ended up at. He didn't remember much if anything the last thing he remembered was a white clown masked person calling out to him, "Shumai!". He brushed it off getting up looking at himself, he wore his usual clothes and a checkered bandana was tied on his sleeve on display like one of his greatest achievements.

It wasn't long before Shuichi met his classmates and introduced himself to them, he prayed his uncertainty came off as insecurity instead but a small purple fiend ran up to him cutting him off from his thoughts. "I heard about you! You are the detective giving my organization so many problems!" he lied. Kokichi knew exactly who he was. If he didn't already remember who Shuichi was he recognized the bandana as one of DICE's. "ah?! I don't remember doing that!" "well you barely remember anything anyway!" Shuichi looked at him responding genuinely, Kokichi laughed a bit trying to stop himself from crying and showing sadness. "well in that case we are at war until we have all our memories back!" he laughed as Shuichi squeaked in shock looking at Kokichi as he ran off.

Kaede's execution had come and gone and Shuichi was in all honesty unable to handle anything or be around anyone for that matter. He flopped onto his bed tears streaming down his face, he was interrupted in his grief by the sound of sliding paper coming from under the door. "huh? Is anyone there?" he asked, only to be met silence. He got up and went to the door finding a note or well envelope. He took it reading the first few words on it, "to Shuichi Saihara ultimate detective and ultimate right-hand man of Fool. Sherlock." he blinked his eyes quickly at it. "someone here knows more about me?? More than me?" he opened it quickly sitting on the bed in his room pulling the paper out. Shuichi beamed as he took in the first words.

"Well Sherlock or as I should say Shuichi you remember little if not nothing of me and our family in our organization. I not to go too quickly will only use the nickname of Fool for myself, I have little clue what has happened and I can't exactly help you with this.

What I can help is with memories lost, I can start from how we met outside all this mess. You and your uncle were on a chase, trying to catch the infamous phantom theif of the night. Your uncle lost me while you because you were smaller and more fast managed to catch up to me and made it to my liar, or as you called it for years "a glorified abandoned building." and I didn't realize you had made it in caught me and looked through the things I had a huge bag of money and started talking to myself about how I could get food and help mama get medicine. To which you asked "your mama is sick? Are you hungry?" to say the least you scared me shitless and I ended up scaring your face for life in the process. (I am still sorry!) ever since you chose to stay by my side and help me out. When I started DICE later you joined as soon as possible, I told you that you didn't have to only for you to insist and insist until you won the title of fool's right hand man.

We looked for masks and you were so mad you couldn't get a matching one with me that you started balling! And to think the mask shop had very few masks we could afford and that the employees would see a 10 year old crying over the clearance bin that day. You ended up taking a mask that showed off the scar! I never understood why you loved it so much Shuichi. It was like you were made to sport it with pride and you found so many bandanas! You bought them all saying that everyone in DICE could get one! It was very sweet in my opinion, and hell you didn't lie! Everyone in DICE got one! That's the bandana on your sleeve, though when we're in full uniform we wear it around our necks.

I wonder if you will ever remember on your own these things but I am willing to tell you as many memories from my own to tell you my beloved. Even if you don't remember me know that I will always be there watching over you and doing everything in my might to keep you safe.

Till we see each other again, your Fool who fools them all."

Shuichi put the papers down feeling his cheek, a slash was on it one that started at his nose and ended at his ear in a broken line. He smiled a bit tearing up again practically hugging the letter, or more accurately holding it close to his chest. "I'm not alone..." he flopped back on his back feeling like a weight was taken off his chest in a way. He slipped quickly to sleep without realizing.

When he awoke the next morning he re read the letter as he left the room, bumping into Kaito on accident. "ah sorry Kaito!" he said once he got the letter quickly back into his hands again. "it's OK Shuichi! Though what are you reading?" Kaito got up looking at his friend offering him a hand, which he took. "Fool gave me a letter! He told me so much about my past! We are apparently really close and I'm so happy that no matter what they're looking out for me." Shuichi looked at the paper smiling at it as if he had the most wholesome meme in his hands instead of some paper saying things that made so much sense.

"so you got a letter from someone? Can i-" "no its only for me!" he possessively held the letter close folding it up and putting it in his pocket, Kaito only put his hands up. "alright alright. Why don't you tell me what it said than?" Shuichi smiled nodding as he mentioned everything. "they gave you that nasty scar?!" "yeah but they were scared and honestly I think it is kind of cool now that I think about it." "they hurt you!" "they were a kid and I scared them!" "I am going to fight them-" "Kaito you don't know who they are! I don't know who they are!"

The two argued and bantered on for a while before Kokichi whined as they took it into the lunch hall. "Kirumom! Momota and Saihara are fighting and no one wants to deal with it!" "1 don't call me mom. 2 what are you two fighting about?" Kirumi looked at the two of them annoyed as she made her way through the room cleaning, Shuichi and Kaito quickly shut up. "I just got a letter from someone I shared a past with and Kaito wants to fight them because they gave me my scar." he explained scratching the back of his neck, Kirumi sighed looking at them. "there is no need to argue or fight. I'm sure it was a misunderstanding and from what I know that scar is really old." Shuichi nodded, "was a little kid. They were a little kid. To say the least I fucked up they fucked up but it cool." Kokichi only tensed up slightly before quickly forcing himself to relax and appear bored. He internally was however: screaming.

That night as Shuichi returned to his room he found another envelope waiting for him, he took it quickly. Same little writing and hand writing. "yes! Yes yes yes yes yes yes!" he giggled a bit like those happy teen girls about some crush sending them a text and shut the door behind him and hopped into bed. He quickly opened it up and took the paper out.

"Shuichi! I didn't know you'd share with others that I knew of you before! Especially to Kaito he scared me half to death(and I didn't even scar him to know that for sure). I love you dearly but please, don't say I told you things like the scar thing to Kaito again I'm pretty sure I won't be as lucky next time!

Though I do have more stories to tell since you seem to love them so much. When we were like 7 or more like around when we met you invited me to stay the night at yours as your uncle said it was OK and you lying and saying my parents were OK with it! The reality being my ma was too sick to speak and stuff and you wanting me to have a warm place to stay during December, you are way too sweet you have a problem. When your uncle saw me he asked if you brought in a skeleton for a friend as I was scared shitless of the detective uncle of yours and you reassured him that I wasn't some skeleton you found in the dumpster.

He nearly called CPS! He had no clue ma didn't mean for me to not be cared for and me using a delinquent dialect didn't help. To say the least if you didn't have my back I'd be behind bars to this day for huge bank heists I did when I was 6. Thanks for telling him that my ma was sick and that I was trying to help her as my and hers only family, also fuck you for making me sleep in your bed for months and have all the blankets when I lived with you and your uncle at first. You are too fucking nice Shuichi! You got sick 3 times! 3!

During our first dual run in with the law you somehow figured out how to open manholes without any equipment. To say the least we fell down a few seconds after the discovery and got caught, your uncle was so mad! He wouldn't stop mentioning it for years after! I ended up breaking my arm and you your leg because of it too. Hell I have a scar on my arm because of the incident but it's much more faded than the one on your leg, I think you still have it? I don't know to be honest.

That's for tonight goodnight. Till we meet again your Fool who fools them all."

Shuichi pulled up his pants legs to see if he still had the scar the letter mentioned. He did it was that of a paler patch of skin than anything like the one on his face but he still smiled at it. He turned his attention back to the paper and read it again and again, as if he was memorizing it for a test or something. He did it all the way to sleep.

The letters went on like that for many days, one per day. They seemed to get longer every time and hell he actually was getting close to figuring out who Fool was, so far his theories were with little to no proof not a thing to prove anything but he was getting closer and closer to his past. Hell he remembered stuff that fool never mentioned yet he knew Fool was part of it. Kokichi was simply teasing Kiibo, Shuichi moved and squinted at Kokichi he studied his features relentlessly. He was staring at him for about a minute intensely before his train of thought was caught off by said supreme leader spotting him, "are you checking me out Shumai?!" finally. Confirmation. "maybe I am Fool."

Kokichi froze up in shock looking at him, "Shumai how'd you figure it out?" he asked moving closer ditching Kiibo and ignoring him. "I regained memories on my own and the nickname. Only Fool calls me Shumai." he smiled getting up and hugging Kokichi. "it was the first memory I had of you before the letters. Thank you." Kokichi smiled and hugged him back tightly, Kiibo slowly etched away because he had no idea what was going on and he very much did not want to be involved. Kaito however very much wanted to be involved. "hey you two! Since when did you two get so close?!" he yelled over to them making Kokichi to go into fight or flight for a solid second, Shuichi only pet him a bit turning to Kaito. "since we were 7-" "what?! He's that Fool guy?!" "well yes Kaito. I am insecure not incompetent.” Shuichi rolled his eyes and let out a soft whine as Kokichi slipped out of his hold for a second before jumping on him and clinging to him. “now that I have my Shumai back I’m barely letting you out of my sight!” he laughed a bit at the smaller’s words using a hand to hold onto him, keeping the leader there. "Hey he's still my sidekick!" Kaito yelled shoving Kokichi playfully, "he's my right hand man!" the other spat back sticking his tongue out at him, Shuichi only giggled a bit giving Kokichi a peck on the cheek on impulse. The other turning into a sputtering mess for a minute before being just bright red, "Shumai!" Shuichi couldn't help but respond in a fit of giggles. Miu only gasping overly dramatically as she came in viewing a very small part of the exchange, "Cockichi can get a partner and I can't???" Kokichi only laughed holding onto Shuichi more, "yeah you whore! I can say I'm not a virgin and you can't!" he taunted as Shuichi started to die of embarrassment for a solid minute.

The two stayed by each other's side no matter what happened really. Even in a situation where Kokichi was a main suspect did they ever be separated, however the letters didn't stop either mostly the difference being that they were now addressed by "Kokichi Ouma" instead of just Fool. A singular rule was placed on them by Monokuma however: no stopping attempted murder on the other. It hurt but they had to listen or they would be killed on the spot. As a result no one could say that they were apart from each other at all, some could claim they weren't together 24/7 but even Maki and Kaito had to see Kokichi just come by to their training sessions with Shuichi and sit to the side to make sure he wasn't getting killed. It would be concerning if they didn't share a past as lovers that they partially remembered and if they all weren't in a killing game at that very moment. However Miu was completely willing to kill Kokichi, he was a pain and Shuichi wouldn't be able to stop her. Little did anyone realize how Shuichi was returning to his old ways, pranks became more frequent and Kokichi wasn't the only one laughing at them anymore. Gonta was highly unwilling to listen to Kokichi, but if he was backed up by Shuichi then what could say that either of them were lying?

"I've got a feeling Kokichi killed Miu!" Kaito yelled throwing his accusation out, Shuichi only shook his head, "he couldn't of. Even if he wanted to he couldn't touch Miu without being paralyzed and even if he could he didn't." he spoke messing with the bandana on his sleeve anxiously, "oh and how can you prove that Shuichi? You weren't with him the time of Miu's murder," "he was not too far away. I was just a little ahead." Kokichi said leaning forward a bit, "yeah he couldn't have had the time to kill her the way she was in the time it took me to make it back to him. Someone with stronger body strength however could,” he said tapping his fingers on his chin, Kokichi was out of the suspect list now at least to Shuichi. “like you Kaito or  Gonta maybe even Kiibo-” “you’re only saying that he is your boyfriend! Do you seriously care more about him than living?!” Kokichi’s attention turned to the ultimate mage, he was stunned at first before rage fueled him. “I would personally kill him if that was his plan! If I killed someone I’d make sure he would expose me and the rest of you live!” he screamed leaving Shuichi in a stunned silence. He would of done it if Kokichi was the culprit, he knew that he’d have no one who understood him as deeply left since the rest of DICE was dead because of how the outside world truly was. “nyeh?! You would do that?!” “Of course! He’s all I have left if he died I’d loose my shit!" he yelled tears pricking at his eyes, "it was Gonta anyway!" he yelled his calm facade falling apart at the seams. Gonta let a out a mess sputters and stutters, "y-you p-promi-ised t-to k-keep-p I-it a-a s-sec-cret f-for G-go-n-nt-ta..." Kokichi snapped his head to Gonta his expression softening, "sorry but I lied. I wasn't planning on letting you get away with it. Even though there's nothing for us to return to!"

Shuichi walked out of the trial room an arm around Kokichi's shoulders, the other sobbed being unable to stop. As they made it to the dorms everyone else was letting out shocked whispers about Kokichi's words and Gonta's blackened statis. It was becoming more and more annoying, Kokichi didn't have a plan for if his emotions took over in a jump to defend Shuichi and now they were all thinking of him as some jerk. "hey let's just go to my room and ignore them. You don't have to listen to them OK?" Shuichi whispered to him lowly, the other only nodded in response. Shuichi smiled and they made their way to the room closing the door behind them, Kokichi plopped on the bed and screamed into his palms crying. Shuichi forwned slightly and went over sitting next to him running his hand through his hair, he leaned into it slowly his screams and cries stopping and he just moved his arms around Shuichi’s waist moving his face around his stomach.

He watched as the excel  opened to reveal that he was right Kokichi was inside. He hoped out going to Shuichi hugging him, “I’m glad you didn’t try to think it was Kaito just in case you were right.” he felt tears prick at his eyes as Kokichi gave him a clown mask, “I’m sorry Shumai...I hope you can forgive me some day...” Shuichi looked at him shocked as the votes flowed in, Kokichi took his monopad putting a vote in for Shuichi. “Kichi... this-this i-isn-n’t real...” Kokichi only gave him a quick peck on the lips moving away, “It is I’m sorry...” he pulled his own mask over his face seconds before a metal claw grabs his neck and is torn away “Kichi!” Shuichi screamed running to him. “Shumai!” 

"you're saying all of this was fictional?! That nothing we remember is real?!" Shuichi yelled out tears burning on his face, he saw Kokichi get executed in front of him as he begged for them to let him go. Now to hear none of his memories of his childhood with Kokichi were even real? "oh yes! And as well your dual audition showed that you wanted this!" Tsumugi yelled a wide smile upon her lips as a video began to play on a monitor. “why would I ever-”

"hey we're #$%& and )/&%# and we’re auditioning to join danganrompa! We want to be ultimate detective and an ultimate leader of sorts!” he stared in shock as he saw someone like him and another like Kokichi speaking on the screen. “we even thought of our story line if we both get chosen, lovers to not remembering and being enemies to lovers again but the other commiting murder and dying!” he watched in shock as his look alike suggested such a thing as the other right next to him looked at him so lovingly, “we truly love danganrompa and would love to be apart of it in any way possible!” the video went out into a bundle of static Tsumugi laughed a bit before speaking again, “that’s what the real you and Kokichi said! You both wanted this!” he felt his heart tear further apart as he fell onto his knees sobbing as Tsumugi went on about despair. Than his bandana slipped off his arm he quickly snatched it holding it close looking at it to see a small purple patch embroidered in was a message.

"my beloved Shumai you are going to always be my #1 detective and you can do this. No matter what I love you that's no lie, Kichi."

It was short but it felt like he was there in some cosmic sense. He took out the letters that he had folded into his pockets to the point that sometimes when he moved it sounded like crunching paper and read them all over again.

"I think we were lovers in a past life. Maybe we were just destined to meet and become as close as we did."

"thanks for taking care of me all of those times over the years. I will always remember how kind you were to me."

"you and I got matching masks on our first year anniversary and our 5th anniversary of being together as partners in DICE. To say the least everyone knew then who we were."

"you are so sweet to me. You didn't have to let me stay with you even after I got a job at 14 but you insisted."

The more he read the more he felt Kokichi's warm embrace around him as if this was all a bad dream and he was waking up again. "those were all fiction! They don't mean a single thing-" "they are real to me! The feelings and love he put into them was real!" he yelled tearing the others from their stunned silence. "it was all scri-" "you can script words not feelings!" he put the papers together and the bandana around his neck as he spoke, "danganronpa may have been a horrible scripted nightmare but our interactions! Our feelings! Everything we went through! It was real!" he yelled holding the papers close to his chest. "we don't have to live by this nightmare! We can just not vote at all!"

The final explosion went off and they knew it was over. Everything. They had won. The killing game was done for. And danganronpa was done, they could go home. It was all OK again.

It was weeks after danganronpa had officially come to an end and they were now allowed to reunite with some of their classmates that didn't survive the game. Shuichi took a few breaths to calm himself before he stepped in, he was the last to gain the courage to go in so everyone turned to him once he made it in. "it's great to see you Shuichi," Kaede smiled at him going over to him putting a hand on his shoulder, "glad you came." her words were soft and hesitant. He only nodded fiddling with his bandana, "great to see you again too Kaede." others greeted him as he went farther into the room, he looked around a bit more before asking. “Did Kokichi come? I was hoping to see him,” he said looking around more. “yeah he came he is actually hiding behind me because he is scared that you’d hate him for what he did.” Rantaro said pointing behind himself before turning back to his conversation with Korekiyo. Shuichi moved over looking to see Kokichi curled up on himself making himself as small as he possibly could shaking a bit, “Kichi? Are you ok beloved?” he asked moving close to him reaching a hand to him, he slinked away a little bit before looking up at Shuichi. He only opened his arms offering a hug, Kokichi let tears fall as he clung onto him tightly. “I’m so happy to have you back Kichi,” he smiled as he held the other tightly. 

hope yall liked this as much as I did.

[ben-wisehart]

1/? Thank you so much for your detailed and fast meta-response! You’re truly amazing and gave me more answers than I expected. The thing I’m getting at is, MXTX presumably writes her ships the way that they’re supposed to be the one and only for each other. She even makes them stay virgins till they can be with their partners. And while I absolutely do believe in making soulmates I also believe that there are people who are much more compatible than others.

Following on from this. More Bingqiu ramblings under the cut

2/? Hualian and Wangxian are very compatible personality-wise and their whole relationship isn’t based only on acts of kindness. Or take Mo Ran. CWN reminds him of a past kindness and his mother so he chooses him as his Shizun. That choice is Mo Ran’s. One part why he likes him is that he’s reminded of a kind home but the other is that he genuinely likes and appreciates his personality. You won’t get this with other people or Shizuns he migh have otherwise chosen.

3/? The same goes for Wangxian and Hualian—they see their partner and appreciate what they see. You say that LWJ might fall in love with another troublemaker but that’s some personal characteristics he might find attractive personally but in comparison LBH seems just like a blind man desperately reaching for any kindness from a father figure. That’s what I don’t like about this ship. And it hurts me because I actually like it so much. Yeah, maybe I am a hopeless romantic but look

4/? Wangxian got infatuated with eo because of their personal qualities, remained by eo’s side because of their choices and stayed together because of their compatibility and appreciation for eo. Same goes for Ranwan. With Bingqiu if you think about it, LBH only saw hero worship, which turned into desperate yearning for love from said father figure but you could literally replace SQQ with whomever else no matter what personality or how (in)compatible & I guess that’s why I find this frustrating.

5/? I genuinely think that you couldn’t just replace one partner from other aforementioned ships and they’d just another partner the same way. From SQQ’s part the choice to stay by LBH’s side is because he genuinely sees who LBH is but LBH doesn’t see him, not because of identity reveal but because he just needs someone-anyone to cling onto and I find that sad, mainly for SQQ. It’s something like a puppy

7/? 7/? You take it home and give it shelter and it loves you unconditionally and would love anyone else who’d do the same for it. And I think that in any relationship the most important part is that: "I see you and I appreciate you," which Bingqiu one-sidedly lacks.

8/END Sorry about my terribly long rant and thank you for letting me air my grievances in your askbox. Idk if you’re on twitter as well but ever since my friend introduced me to your meta and fics I come and check out if you’ve posted something new from time to time as I don’t have an account here. So thanks for being awesome!

9/REAL END I forgot to say thank you for your reddit meta links, I'll look forward to checking them out 😊!

Lmao anon you’re killing me, I read these asks at like half past midnight when I was unable to sleep from a caffeine high, spent the next half hour thinking about it and then finally took out my laptop again to start writing a reply at 1am

Okay, so. I don’t know that there’s gonna be some...singular thing I can point out that will make you suddenly like Bingqiu as much as the other ships you’ve mentioned? We all have our preferences and that’s fine. But I also don’t think that’s what you’re asking me to do anyway, so I’m just gonna reply with my thoughts.

I think I understand where you’re coming from a bit better now, and I do understand how MXTX writes relationships in the “one true love” sense. To be honest, I think she probably wouldn’t agree with me saying that her other MLs could just as easily have fallen in love with other people, but ultimately, I disagree with the notion that there is one person out there who is the “right” person for us to be with. I don’t want to rehash any point I’ve already made, so I’ll leave it at that. I don’t think you’re wrong, however, in saying that of course some people can be more suited for us than others.

I think the reason Bingqiu suffers more from this perception you’ve mentioned, that SQQ could be interchangeable with another person without really changing Binghe’s dynamic on his end, is probably due to a couple of factors. Firstly, even though all three MXTX pairings meet when at least one of them is a child, Binghe is unique in that he was both a child and was practically raised by SQQ during his formative years. (The whole parental dynamic and age gap is something for another essay I don’t feel like writing, so I’ll just leave it at that.) Binghe is kind of fucked up due to his trauma and has pretty much built his entire identity around loving Shen Qingqiu. Everything he does in this novel, he does because of him in one way or another. We can argue about the fact that it’s unhealthy but it is what it is.

Secondly, Scum Villain is a shorter novel. It’s also MXTX’s first novel, and it’s largely a parody of danmei, transmigration and stallion novels. MDZS, TGCF and 2HA have a lot of conflict in them that isn’t directly related to the main couple, whereas in Scum Villain, almost all the conflict is specifically about SQQ and LBH in some way. It has fewer chapters and the characters have less room to breathe and develop, I think. Thirdly, but also following on from this, SQQ and LBH have an outside force meddling with their relationship at every turn. SQQ isn’t perfect by any means, but I maintain that he is at his core a good person who just wants a comfortable life for himself and Binghe. However, due to factors outside his control, he’s literally being held at a proverbial gunpoint to act a certain way. Even with the OOC lock disabled, he can’t be his truest, authentic self when his survival is contingent on pleasing the System. Of course he works around it when he can, but like, when he reunites with Binghe after the Abyss, he’s literally presented with a multiple choice question on how he should answer Binghe’s question about regrets! He holds onto Binghe’s jade token for years not because he’s a sociopath that likes withholding a precious possession, but because he knows it might literally save his life if he saves it for the right moment. He’s at the mercy of the System and could get killed or tortured at any moment.

So all of this is to say that Luo Binghe doesn’t really seem to have much of a personality outside of loving Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu has an incredibly hard time letting his personality shine through the limitations that are placed on him. Stuff for them to work out post-canon, etc. etc. etc.

But even so…it’s not like they have no personality. To use my own example that you mentioned in your ask, why is Wei Wuxian being a troublemaker a personality trait that his husband can be attracted to, but Shen Qingqiu being kind isn’t? I kind of glossed over the fact that you called kindness interchangeable in my first reply, but I strongly disagree with that sentiment. There are a million ways to be kind. Luo Binghe loves Shen Qingqiu in a way that was unfortunately influenced by his trauma and the way the System interfered in their lives, but the things he loves about him are his own. Two people can be kind, but it’s not a universal human trait. Shen Qingqiu is kind, and he’s also intelligent and bashful and a bit ridiculous. And Luo Binghe knows all of this. He is twenty-five at the end of the novel; he’s got some pretty messed up ideas about ideal relationships, but I still think we need to give him more credit than assuming he’s not capable of recognising that SQQ is a complex person with multiple personality traits. It might have started out as hero worship, but he gets to see plenty of SQQ’s true self throughout the novel even in spite of all the limitations imposed by the System. If Shen Jiu had shared all these traits, Luo Binghe might have loved him instead, but you could say that about any character in any relationship at all. If a different reader had transmigrated in SY’s place, I’m not convinced that they would have made the same choices Shen Yuan did. There are plenty of readers that would have been perfectly kind to Binghe but wouldn’t have thought to give him a new cultivation manual so he could improve his cultivation techniques in time for the Endless Abyss. There are plenty of readers that would have been perfectly kind to Binghe, but knowing he would be fine wouldn’t have thrown themselves in front of poison for him or taken a hit for him in the dream world. SQQ readily admits that doing things like this was unnecessary, but SQQ is the sort of person that when you give him a split second to make a decision, he’ll put Binghe’s safety first. Always. Even knowing that Binghe was never in any real danger. These are not the actions of a person who is only motivated by their own survival, no matter what SQQ tries to tell the audience. That’s kindness, and it’s a rare quality that shouldn’t be discounted on the basis that if someone else had done it the same way, it would have had the same effect on Binghe’s affections. You could say that about any personality trait under the sun. Maybe Binghe would have loved someone else just as badly if they’d done all this for him, but we’ll never know, because they didn’t, and Shen Qingqiu is the one Binghe loves. He has no interest in changing that. The puppy doesn’t care about all the other possibilities, and neither does the one who took it in. Their relationship is no less special for it.

Okay I’ve already fucked up my sleep schedule for the entire weekend so I’m gonna call it here. I am on twitter though! My handle is bobby_speeds. Thanks again for your questions!!

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

OK so I got this idea. S/o (who's this time has to be female) is also an octo mermaid but still from another world. So s/o gets into one of the pools and they discover she's a blanket octopus (if you haven't seen a female blanket octopus they're one of the most beautiful octopus out there with their gradient colors) and they get popular af like everyone is like "wow she's such a beautiful meroctopus" Yada yada. And Azul it's mad. Part 1

Part 2. And both Jade and Floyd notice it and decide to tell s/o who is shocked and sad because they have a HUGE crush so they decided to give him a gift. Since they know he doesn't have a octopus pot they decide to make him one. After months they give it to him and confess and he's shocked and ask for their forgiveness as it isn't their fault. At the end he and s/o cuddle inside of the octo pot in their mer forms.

OMG THIS TOOK ME FOREVER!!!! I probably got this ask before thanksgiving so I am very sorry that it took me this long, HOWEVER, it is the longest oneshot I have ever written so that’s quite an accomplishment. There are photo references that go with this story as well so check those out before you read. 

Warnings: Slight language, insecurities, fluff, very very minor angst, fem!s/o

Word count: 4,710

Azul x Reader: Cuddle Pot

The above images are references for the s/o’s octopus species and the octopus pot. I don’t know who the original artist is for the second so if you know please let me know so I can give credit where due.

   “Wait seriously? You’re a mermaid!” Ace practically shrieks and you giggle. Placing a finger to your lips, you shush him as Deuce slaps the back of your over energetic friend’s head. 

   “Yes. I am a mermaid, but you can’t tell anyone yet.”

   “Why not?” Jack questions. His tail flicks in confusion.

   You sigh and think back to the last time anyone found out about your true form. Most of the people back in your world found merpeople to be odd and cursed. It was considered a disability and a disease. Human society often shunned what they didn’t understand. And that lack of understanding led to fear. 

   A boy in your old school had been your middle school sweetheart for approximately 7 months before you decided to tell him your secret. He had seemed so eager to finally go swimming with you that you had naively believed that it was all going to be fine. However when he stared at your flowey, shimmering form you felt yourself grow worried that he would no longer like you. 

   “Babe,” you started, leaning closer to try and grasp his face with your smooth, webbed fingers. “It’s alright. It’s just my merform. It’s going to-” He quickly slapped your hand away and stumbled back. 

   “F-freak, monster, disgusting. Stay away from me you animal! We’re over you deceiving B*tch!” He quickly ran away from the side of the lake where you had brought him. As dawns lovely lights sprayed your body with pinks, and soft oranges, tears slid down your cheeks and into the water below. He hated you. Oh what a fool you had been to think that he would be different, that he would love you anyway. 

   School had become increasingly difficult after that. Word spread fast and you were quickly isolated by everyone you had called a friend. Eventually you moved to a new place and decided that you would never love again.

   This wasn’t the case however in Twisted Wonderland. You were so pleasantly surprised to find people like you, and they weren’t considered freaks because of it. It had been a shock and you quickly found yourself yearning to tell others about what you truly were. Fear had you back though. At least up until that point.

   “I had a bad experience with someone I cared about back in my home world.” You stated softly. The boys looked at each other and smiled. 

   “Well this isn’t that world. You're good to go here since I can’t imagine anyone judging you for what you look like in this place.” Ace’s words reassured you.

   “He’s right. At NRC it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be bullied because of something like this. But what are you anyway?” Deuce questioned. 

   You giggled and leaned in closer to the 4 people sitting at the lunch table, (5 if you included Grimm, but he already knew). “I’m an octopus.” You said with excitement and slight nervousness.

   “Really? That sounds so cool!” Epel was quiet but excited when he spoke up for the first time since the conversation started. You smiled to yourself and mentally sighed in relief that the people you had next trusted with your secret didn’t view you any differently. 

   “Wait hold the phone. Octopus? Like Azul?” Ace pressed close enough that you could reach across with a napkin and wipe the side of his cheek that had been smeared with BBQ sauce when he scarfed his lunch.

  “Yes and no, Azul is a Common Octopus, which means that he is the standard octopus you mostly see around the ocean or in pictures. Basically what you imagine when someone says Octopus. I’m a different type of octopus, one that is more rare.” You pulled out your phone while talking to bring up an image. You held the phone so everyone at the table could see.

   “This is a female Blanket Octopus. We’re pretty rare but we are also one of the most beautiful kinds.” 

   Everyone went wide eyed and watched the screen as you scrolled through images of your fellow eight legged friends. Epel turned to you and grabbed your shoulder. 

   “You absolutely have to show us your merform.” Ace, Deuce, and Jack all nodded in agreement. You flushed and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

   “I don’t know guys. It would be a hassle to find a place where we could do it and I’m not sure I want anyone else seeing me. What if someone shows up and freaks out?” This time it was Jack’s turn to speak when he leaned back before smiling slightly.

   “Not that I care but I personally would show up to support you if you needed it. Besides, the school pool is closed after dark. However I’m pretty sure Ruggie has snatched a copy of every key to every lock in the building.”

   “Of course he has.” Deuce says rolling his eyes. “That hyena couldn’t keep his paws to himself even if his life depended on it.” You giggled but ignored the comment in favor of asking Jack if he could get the key. The wolf nodded and you told everyone to meet you by the pool at 9:30. Your friends nodded in agreement just as the bell rang.

----------

   The air was humid and warm, it was perfect for a late night swim, although your clothes would likely stick to your body when you changed back. Still you shifted uncomfortably at the idea of getting in the water with what you are wearing. A pair of leggings was slipped on underneath a waterproof skirt. You had a jacket over your bikini top but per usual you were unable to wear bottoms unless you wanted them to tear. You would have to be very careful not to let the skirt go up before you shifted.

   A sigh left your lips and Grimm, sensing your nervousness, rubbed up against your leg in silent comfort. Your friends were unlikely to freak out but it was still nerve wracking to think about exposing your true form to other non-merpeople. Hundreds of scenarios where something went wrong filtered through your head and promised that your anxiety wouldn’t leave anytime soon. 

  “BOO!” Half a shriek pierced the night before a hand clasped over your mouth.  

   “Shishishishishi.” You turned around in surprise and pulled the fingers away from your face.

   “Ruggie! What are you doing here?” You whisper shouted. The hyena snickered again and held up one finger. He made a circular motion and a key ring twirled around in response. 

   “Jack said you needed to get in here. Thought I’d tag along.” The smirk on his face irritated you but you couldn’t be surprised. You should have known that having Jack of all people ask for keys to break into the pool after hours was going to raise some eyebrows. Honestly you should have just asked him to invite Ruggie along anyways. Key or no key the hyena was likely to want to know what was going on. 

   “Alright fine, but if you tell anyone what you saw here today, and I mean anyone, then I will hide your piggy bank from you.” Ruggie’s eyes went wide before they narrowed.

   “You have my word.” You smiled knowing that you had convinced him to keep your secret despite the fact that if he really had told someone you wouldn’t have actually done more than try and punch him. Of all people you knew how precious money was in this world, considering the fact that you had none.

   Footsteps alerted you to the approaching presence of your other friends. You turn

around and find Jack, Epel, Ace and Deuce walking over to you. They wave and Jack frowns when he spots Ruggie.

   “What are you doing here? I thought you already gave me the key.” The hyena snickers and points towards the key Jack was holding. 

   “I gave you the one to the janitors closet, which I’m gonna need back by the way. I wanted to see what was going on for myself so I hung out here till Y/n came over, and then I figured it had to be interesting if she was involved. I didn’t know there was gonna be a crowd though.” He looked at you, “This must be one hell of a surprise if you got all the first years here.”

   Deuce pointed out that Sebek was a first year as well but the hyena shrugged it off saying “he doesn’t count as a student since he’s basically just a guard.” You figured that was Leona’s opinion and Ruggie agreed.

   “Guys it’s already late and I don’t wanna get caught so let's go in already.” Everyone nodded and Ruggie opened the gate. 

   Carefully you unzipped your jacket as you walked over to the bench. The water appeared calm and undisturbed, allowing a clear view of the illuminated bottom which was surprisingly clean considering teenage boys flung about in the water all day.

   You sighed and shrugged the jacket off before stepping out of your shoes. Setting down the bag with your extra clothes you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen. 

   Ruggie leaned closer to Jack and whispered something you didn’t catch but Jack’s response of “You’ll see.” was enough to tell you what had happened. Pushing your anxiety out of the way you lowered yourself into the pool, sighing as the cool water licked your skin. Giving yourself a moment to relax you let your worries leak into the water around you. You had always felt better in the water. It’s a merfolk thing.

   “Are you guys positive you won’t freak out?” You called to the edge of the pool where your friends were standing. 

   “Not unless you grow 10 heads.” Ace sniggered until Epel elbowed him. You rolled your eyes and looked suspiciously over to Ruggie who still had no idea what was going on. 

   “No promises.” You sighed, but smiled when Jack nodded at you, signaling that it would be alright. Who were you kidding Ruggie was a hyena man who grew up in the slums. What did he care? Feelings of worry taken care of, you sunk deeper into the water and closed your eyes.

   The feeling that comes with shifting is always a little strange. It’s almost like your skin has been turned to putty and it is remolding itself and when it reaches the desired outcome it snaps back into place and holds like it has been that way the whole time. 

   Once you felt the transformation had completed you righted yourself in the water and peeked an eye open to look at your friends. Ace and Epel had their mouths wide open in a gasp. One that quickly turned into a smile. Jack looked as though he had just witnessed a miracle and Deuce was still in shock. Ruggie’s reaction was by far the most extravagant. His eyes were wide and his mouth was curved into a questioning gape. He had taken several steps back and his ears lay flat on his head. Behind him his tail bristled and stood fairly straight, pushing up the too large shirt. 

   You bit your lip and examined their faces trying to come up with a conclusion to what they were feeling. 

   “That… Is so cool!” Ace blurted out excitedly and ran over to the pool's edge to get a closer look. Deuce and Epel followed him and Jack trotted over as well, but not before snorting at Ruggie. The hyena man looked your form up and down and took in the swirling shades of color that decorated your now sea creature bottom half. He made a small noise before shaking himself and casually patting down the fur on his tail, which was still tense but not as much. 

   “Ok, of all the things I’ve seen. That, I was not expecting.” You giggled at Ruggie’s flustered reaction and felt yourself relax now that you knew pitchforks and torches weren’t coming out. 

   The hyena moved closer to the pool and joined your other friends who were staring at you in awe. You blushed uncontrollably as you felt their gazes roam your colorful body. Decorative markings that spread up to your collarbone changed to a darker shade with your blush.

   “So like can I touch you?” Deuce smacks his hand against Ace’s chest and gives him this look that says “dude you can’t just say that''. You giggle and glide closer to them before lifting your arm which was for the most part pretty human, but had a lavender shade to it and a long silky strip of webbing that shimmered as it moved. The longest tentacle on your body rose out of the water as well and you shivered as the webbing stuck together in an uncomfortable manner. 

   Ace leaned forwards and stroked your arm and tentacle. His eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder. Deuce looked a little more unsure but Epel had no problem reaching out and gently caressing your webbing. Ruggie joined him and Deuce eventually stuck his hand out to stroke your arm, but Jack held back and decided that ultimately he only wanted to look.

   “Wow! This stuff is so soft!” Epel said excitedly. He was generally pretty quiet so you were glad he was comfortable enough to speak out. 

   “It’s so colorful. If we had silks this pretty in the savannah then we’d have lots of money. Say, where could I find more of your kind.” Ruggie’s smirk told you that he was just joking but you glared at him anyways and flicked water his way. 

   The hyena flinched and shook his head before laying his ears back and moving away from the water. Jack and Ace laughed at the antics before Ruggie growled playfully and distracted them from what had happened moments before. 

   It was then that Ace leaned a bit too far forwards and fell straight into the pool. You jumped and swung your tentacles back, instinctively spreading them out to make yourself look bigger. 

   You willed your body to relax as you recovered from the little panic attack and laughed when Ace’s head bobbed to the surface. He sputtered and swam over to the edge and climbed out of the pool. He lay on the concrete and breathed heavily while the boys around him cackled. Ace glared and stood up. 

   “You jerks I’ll show you how you like it.” Deuce shrieked as Ace shoved him into the water. You laughed with everyone else as Deuce came up for air. Sensing a sudden threat of being pushed into the water Ruggie backed up against the gate and watched as Jack pushed Epel in before diving in himself. The five of you giggled and splashed as Ruggie snickered at your antics. 

   You were so glad your new friends didn’t mind your merform. Even better, they really liked it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders as you dived down to swim with your friends. As the five of you splashed and played with Ruggie distracted with your antics, none of you noticed a dark form smirk in the bushes. Nor the click of the camera that he had with him.

----------

   The next day was a nightmare. Apparently someone had spied on you and your friends and photographed you in your merform. People swarmed you asking you all sorts of questions. It was difficult to just get through the halls. Luckily none of the people who stopped and talked to you had anything unkind to say and the stares you received were more curious than malicious but it was still an uncomfortable situation to be in.

   For the most part people who knew you were pretty considerate about your space and privacy. Cater seemed absolutely thrilled to know that you were an octopus but only asked if you were alright with everything going on, instead of bombarding you with questions. 

   Kalim was a little more enthusiastic about the whole situation. Jamil ended up apologizing for him and pulling him away. Vil and Rook subtly commented on your merforms beauty before moving on. Diasomnia rarely came near you but Lilia gave you a sympathetic smile. Trey offered you a few baked sweets as he sensed that you were overwhelmed and as for everyone else you had yet to see them.

   The person you were most worried about seeing though was Azul. He was an octopus merman like you, yet you had never seen his merform. Unless you counted his overblot the only time you had seen him in full shift was in the picture you had borrowed from the museum. 

   He and the Leech twins will probably have an absolute field day over the fact that you’re also a mertype. You worried what Azul was going to think of you hiding it. Over the past few months you had developed a crush on him. You had a plan to confess and everything, but now that the secret was out you were worried that he wasn’t going to like you for keeping it from him. In truth you planned on telling him first, but figured there was no harm in letting your other friends know. Turns out there was and the whole school knew.

   Trapped in your thoughts, you failed to notice the two approaching twins and bumped into them as you turned around a corner.

   “Hiii~ Shrimpy-chan~!” Floyd’s ever changing mood seemed to pleasant as he greeted you with a smile and not a squeeze. 

   “Hello, Y/n. How are you today?” Jade's gentleman persona greeted you but failed to hide the questions and mischief in his eyes. 

   “Just say it already. I know you two already know.” You sighed and watched their faces light up with excitement. Floyd grabbed your arm and took off, dragging you behind him. “Wait!” Soon the three of you arrived at an empty classroom which you were promptly shoved in before the tweels followed, shutting the door behind them.

   “Y/n, my apologies for Floyd’s exuberant behavior, but we have been meaning to speak with you in private since the most recent exposure of your true nature.” Jade was calm and collected as always when he spoke and gently fixed your crumpled uniform which had been shifted while running. 

   “Shrimpy-chan! We have something to tell you!~” Floyd sing-songed before sitting on a desk.

   “What? Wait what is it? And where’s Azul? Wouldn’t he want to speak with me too? If this is about a deal the answer is no.” You folded your arms in front of you and put distance between yourself and the seemingly respectful brother. The twins looked at eachother and you caught a glimpse of something passing through their eyes before Floyd pouted.

   “Aww, what’s wrong with making deals with us? We promise to be real nice this time and not leave you homeless. You could stay with us at Octavinelle!” You rolled your eyes as Floyd giggled and swung his long legs despite the fact that they could easily reach the floor from his seat. 

   “The truth is, Azul is jealous.”

   “What!” You turned and exclaimed at Jade’s statement. The tall mage nodded and continued with a strange look on his face like he wasn’t bothered by this at all. 

   “You are far more beautiful than him in your merform and he is bothered by it. Everyone has always shunned him for his octopus body and now you present yourself as one and everyone goes wild with excitement over your gorgeousness. Something he believes to never have possessed.” 

   You were stunned. Azul was jealous of you. He was upset because you were more beautiful than him. No. You wanted him to love you, not be bothered by you. Why hadn’t you thought of Azul’s insecurities. He just wanted to be an attractive merman and here you were, the same mertype as him and you were advertising your beauty to the world where he had to hide his away due to the fact that he was insecure. 

   Not bothering to say a word you quickly left the room and raced down the hall. You needed to fix this as soon as possible. Otherwise Azul might not like you ever again. Two pairs of mismatched eyes watched your retreat and shone with anticipation. 

   “How long do you think it will take?”

   “Not long Floyd. Luckily she was already prepared before we released the picture.”

----------

   Azul was so over this whole thing. He had rewatched the video and looked at the pictures about 20 times. You were so gorgeous and graceful in your merform; it just made him frustrated that he couldn have been admired for his tentacles. They were simple and slimy so most people hated them yet you were swathed in colorful silks that attracted every creature in the ocean. While most would swim by him or threaten to eat him, any sea animal that came across you would be hypnotised by your beauty. 

   The worst thing about you being an octopus is that it gave him one more reason to tell himself that you will never love him. He was so drab and you were well amazing. Of all the creatures in the sea you had to be a blanket octopus. If you had been a simple mermaid or even better a common octopus like him then surely he would have a chance with you at least. 

   A sudden knock on the door startled the mage and he stood quickly to make sure he looked alright before answering the door. You stood anxiously as he opened the door and grabbed his wrist before he had the chance to shut it. Surprisingly, Azul offered no resistance as you dragged him to the entrance of the aquarium. 

   Octavinelle’s aquarium had two sections, one was for regular fish and the other sea creatures that were on display from the mostro lounge. The other was for the residents. Any and all merfolk could use the aquarium if they felt homesick or separated from their true forms. This was where you chose to place the gift you had made. 

   Coming to a stop you turned and looked at Azul. He looked confused and excited at the same time. You took this as a good sign. 

   “Azul. Will you swim with me?” The merman’s eyes widened and he stood there processing your request for nearly a minute before responding.

   “Sure.”

   Giddy with glee you quickly leapt into the water and shed your clothes before transforming. Rising to the surface you looked up at him from just underneath the surface and he peered back at you.

   Strange. He thought for sure he would feel angry again when he saw you but the darling flush on your face and how you were genuinely happy to swim with him gave him another feeling all together. It bubbled inside of him and made him blush as he slowly lowered himself into the cool water beside you. 

   It had been a while since Azul had consciously shifted so he was a bit worried that he would do it too fast or slow and something would go wrong. Fortunately he was able to shift without incident. Once shifted he suddenly felt very self conscious. As a common octopus he was far more simple and plain compared to your swirling and colorful body. 

   You didn’t seem to mind however as you twirled and circled around Azul excitedly.

   “Come on I have something to show you.” Azul frowned in confusion but followed you regardless. You led him to a sort of grove area that he had never seen before. It was very well hidden but gorgeous as well. 

   You looked back at him excitedly and pushed through the sea vines to an open area where a ray of sunlight fell across and illuminated the gift you had spent months on. Azul’s jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the octopus pot that sat in the middle of the small room. 

   The base was grey and made of some type of stone. Around it sat lavender pillars and corals that surrounded the base except for the entrance. The round opening was smoothed and carved in a delicate design that resembled sea coral. Behind it sat a dark velvet cloth that was tied back with a golden rope.Azul assumed that was to block the entrance or allow for privacy. 

   The inside was decorated with lavish pillows in all sorts of cool shades. They were illuminated by a small yet classy lamp that hung off to the side. The outside of the pot was for the most part smooth and grey with a few purple undertones, but off to one side there sat a carving that resembled the waves and water foam, on top off which held a large pearl that glinted in the sunlight. On the other side a darker grey octopus clung to the top portion of the pot and spread its tentacles out in an elegant manner. Azul took note that the few that rose off the pot appeared to be for hanging things and one looked suspiciously like it was meant to support a staff. 

   You floated in place for what felt like hours as you waited for Azul to react. You reminded yourself to stay patient as he might not respond to it immediately. When he finally did react he did so without words. He simply pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows. You nodded excitedly before bowing your head bashfully. 

   “I’m so sorry that I upset you Azul. I never meant for it to get out in the first place. I was actually planning on telling you first and then giving this octopus pot to you since I know you don’t have one. Then things got messed up and everything and I’m so sorry. I think you’re beautiful in your merform and I hope you’ll accept my apology.” Your face burned when you spoke and you swished your tentacles nervously.

   “What?” You looked up when Azul spoke and saw confusion on his face. “I’m not upset at you. It’s not your fault you’re beautiful. Besides I could never be upset at you, octopus or not. I was distraught because I thought you were so amazing and I’m so plain and that there was no chance that you’d like me back.” You gasped and watched as his face slowly turned pink. 

   He dove into the pot and curled up, mentally berating himself for letting that slip. Shocked you glided over to the entrance of the pot and leaned your head in.

   “Azul. Do you mean that? Do you really like me?” He didn’t respond, you took a deep breath and admitted your own feelings. “Well I like you so…” His head snapped up and he let his expression grow into an ecstatic smile before coughing into his fist and composing himself.

   “Well in that case, do you want to come in and lay with me?” Azul ignored the fact that his face felt like it was on fire and waited as you giggled and moved in beside him. 

   “I’d love to. What do you think of the pot?” The merman smiled gently at you and spoke as he curled his tentacles around you and yours, him. 

   “It’s exquisite. I couldn’t love it more. Where did you get it?” 

   “I made it.” You muttered and flushed at the surprised and impressed look on his face. He shifted closer to you and gripped your hand with his. 

   “You did an excellent job. Thank you.” Your fingers intertwined with his and you pressed your forehead against his. 

   “I love you Azul.” You mumbled sleepily.

   “I love you Y/n.” He spoke before shutting his eyes and enjoying the warmth that spread through the pot. You’re silky webbing fell across the two of you like a blanket and after a stressful morning Azul allowed himself to slip into a comfortable sleep.

----------

   Two pairs of heterochromatic eyes watched the two octopus merpeople sleep soundly inside the pot and smirked with wicked teeth. 

   “How did you know she was an octopus as well?”

   “Floyd, surely you must have noticed. They both smell like takoyaki.” The eels laughed and quietly zipped away, leaving the octopus pot behind.

[imaginedisish]

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards (Tenet) Neil x Reader

A/N: Hey there guys!!! I’m back...again ahhhhh. I’ve been gone for a while (I always am) but hopefully I’ll be back for a while now :) I hope you’re all staying safe and doing well. I know the world is ass, but hopefully things will be better soon. Anyway, I’m obsessed with Tenet right now and I decided that I had to write a Neil x Reader one shot (I love Robert Pattinson, it’s a problem) Also, I think this is my longest fic yet...if someone wants to let me know how to do the “keep reading” thing, please tell me omg. I’m so sorry to those who have to scroll through this. Hopefully I can change that. Anyway folks, ENJOY!!!

p.s pls request tenet stuff. gimme some smut to write.

Summary: You allow your feelings for Neil to get in the way, causing you to compromise the mission and put everyone in danger. (AU, obviously because of the reader insert, and also because this particular scene does not actually happen in the movie).  ~loosely based off “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” by Tame Impala~

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, guns, blood, wounds, cursing, angst, possibly implications of being “lovers (or friends with benefits)” and luckily fluff :) 

Word Count: 4,163 (Please fucking teach me how to add the “read more” thing holy shit)

You storm down the cold, grey, skinny hallway lit with dimmed fluorescents. There was something inexplicably chilling about this place, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on exactly what that thing was. Maybe it was the way the lights reflected against the walls, glowing subtly against the tiles. It wasn’t a pretty glow. It was the glow one could expect to see along the walls of a morgue. 

Maybe it was the peculiar, dull ringing that followed you down the corridor, haunting your every step. Maybe it was the simple sound of your heels clicking against the concrete floors, and the idea that those clacks could call someone to your very location and leave you absolutely defenseless. Maybe it was the fact that you only had two bullets left in your glock. 

Or, it was because he wasn’t with you anymore. 

You quickly shake off the thought that he, of all people, could make you feel better. You didn’t need him. Hell, you didn’t need anyone, you thought to yourself. But still, your mind kept circling back to the image of him popping up in front of you, taking your hand and leading you away to- 

You cut yourself off. You couldn’t let your mind wonder for that long, especially about Neil. Still, you can’t help but flash back to just minutes ago, when Neil was by your side, when you made the massive mistake of letting your feelings get away of the mission. 

Neil pulled you down the hall, his hand firmly clasped around the upper part of your right arm. He was practically dragging you with him since you couldn’t keep up with his speed. 

Finally, Neil yanks you into an alcove, hoping you two can hide for at least a few minutes before running again. 

“Neil you need to give me an answer, what the fuck is-,” Suddenly, Neil pushes you against the wall, his right hand presses hard on your hip while his left hand covers your mouth. His face is in yours. Any personal space between you two is non-existent. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. He’s so close that you can feel wisps of his dirty blonde hair dance across your forehead. 

He smirks, “No time for answers.” You felt a twinge in your stomach, like butterflies, or maybe something much more gross, because now was not the time for Neil to make you feel this sort of way. 

The worst part is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He carefully selects each and every movement he makes. He removes his hand from your mouth and places it at the nape of your neck instead, his thumb brushing lightly just below your hairline. 

You stifle a quiet moan at his touch. “N-Neil, what are you doing?” Your voice is quiet, but shaky. 

“Keeping you calm, I can tell you’re about to lose it,” He says matter-of-factly. Of course that’s the only reason, there’s nothing romantic here, and there never will be. 

‘Neil will never feel the way I feel about him’ you think to yourself. You can’t help but get a bit angry at his ability to put you under his spell. Despite your heart racing, despite your brain being bent out of shape by the close proximity of Neil, you can’t help but feel calmer. And you hated that. You were too stubborn for your own good. 

He breaks the silence, “Are you alright? I figured you’d have something to say. You said you wanted to talk to me before, didn’t you?” 

Before…when you had planned on telling him how you felt. You were going to tell him before.  Before the mission escalated past the point of return. Before you had ruined everything. Before Neil risked his life to bring you to safety. You had fucked up this time, insurmountably. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but you didn’t make it much better. 

Neil blew the entire team’s cover all to save you. You forgot the script, all because you were far too concerned with how you were going to handle your feelings for Neil. It wasn’t just any mission, either. It had to do with Sator’s henchmen. This was Tenet’s way in. This was how you could get more information. This was how you could save the world. 

And yet, you brought it all down. Somehow, Sator’s men believed that you were the only spy, and that everyone else was legitimate. They were going to kill you and spare the others, but Neil practically threw you out of the room and down the hall before anything could happen. The second he grabbed you, gun shots erupted. Now you had to pay for it, hiding in a barely-lit, cold hallway, with Sator creeping somewhere close behind, ready to attack. 

Suddenly, the guilt began to overwhelm you. What if this was it, what if you would be the reason Neil would die? What if your actions destroy the mission all together? Tears free themselves from your eyes, sliding slowly down your cheeks. 

“Hey,” Neil whispers as he moves the hand that rested on your neck up to your left cheek. He wipes away a few tears with his thumb. “It’s alright. We’re going to be fine, don’t worry-,”

Before he can get another word out, you grab his hand. “Stop, please, just stop,” You plead, unable to take anymore. He has to know what he’s doing to you, he just has to, you think, as your sadness slowly turns to anger. It irritated you that he was able to swoop in and save your day. It irritated you that he was able to touch you and comfort you, despite the lack of relationship that you desperately wanted fulfilled more than anything. None of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that he could be this non-nonchalant while you were practically doubled over with butterflies and other real anxieties from the situation you were currently in. 

Neil looks a bit more annoyed now. “I’m just trying to help,” He says, his eyes staring deeply into yours. Those eyes, you could drown in them if you weren’t careful, so you snap back into reality, allowing yourself to feed into your anger. 

“Maybe I don’t need your help,” You say, instantly regretting the words as they leave your lips. 

The corners of Neil’s mouth turn up slightly, his cocky attitude showing yet again. “So back there, earlier,” He gestures backwards, to the past, “You didn’t need my help?” 

You shake your head, “I’m just sick of this.”

Neil’s smile fades away as a confused look finds itself on his face. “Of what?” There’s a sadness in his voice. “Us?” 

His use of“Us” immediately takes you back. ‘What the fuck does he mean by “Us”?’ You ask yourself. You were undeniably close, but he never confirmed or denied his feelings for you.

Your stomach does a back flip before you allow yourself to grow angry again. 

“There is no ‘Us’, and that’s the problem Neil,” You say, pushing him off of you. He stumbles out of the alcove and rushes back in, closing the space between you and him once again. 

Neil gives you a puzzled look.“Bloody hell,” you hear him mumble under his breath. “What the fuck are you talking?” There’s a seriousness in his voice now. His cocky facade disappears into nothingness. He’s frustrated, and it’s all because of you. 

You just couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to say it. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel.” Your voice is louder now, and it seems as though you’re practically begging to give away your hiding spot. “Neil I-,”

He covers your mouth with his left hand once again. “Alright that’s it,” His voice is still quiet, “You’re the one that needs to stop now. You don’t know how much I-,” 

You push him into the wall before he can get a word out, just as he had interrupted you seconds ago. 

You step out into the hallway. “I don’t know what? How much you don’t care about me?” You notice the sudden pain in Neil’s face. You didn’t expect that, but you also refuse to believe it’s real. “I don’t need you, Neil. I never have and I never will.” 

You begin walking down the hallway as Neil whisper shouts your name, trying to get you to come back without blowing your cover. 

“(Y/N)! Please!” He calls out. 

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality and stops you dead in your tracks, “(Y/L/N), I’ve been waiting to meet you.” It’s a familiar voice, a voice you’ve heard before. It’s bitter, callous and malignant. A chill runs up your spine as the name of the voice dawns on you. You flinch, quickly stepping backwards and spinning around to look at the devil-man in front of you. Although, you know he would prefer if you referred to him as a god. 

“Sator,” You curse, spitting on the ground disrespectfully. You brandish your gun, trying to put on your best fake-confident face. Sator doesn’t know you only have two bullets left, and quite frankly he doesn’t need to, you think to yourself. 

Before you can even aim, Sator launches towards you. 

You jump back, and turn around to run. There’s no way you could get away from him in what you were wearing. Your black kitten heals slowed you down a great deal. Your tight, black dress made it hard for you to move in any way at all. 

Sator is right behind you. You kick off your heels, allowing you to speed up a bit. While running barefoot is much better, you know you can’t last forever. You run for a few more seconds before realizing that Sator is only getting closer. 

You turn around, back peddling now. You hold your glock up and aim. 

BANG! 

The bullet misses Sator and ricochets off the tiled wall. What the fuck? You think to yourself as the bullet falls to the ground. The walls must be bullet proof or something. 

Sator is almost within an arm’s reach of you. You lift your gun again and take aim. 

BANG!

But it’s no use. you miss again. This time, the bullet hits such an angle that it comes back straight towards you. It grazes against your left side. 

“FUCK!” You cry out in pain, stumbling a bit. You try your best to continue running, but the pain is far too great to keep going. You feel your legs starting to give out. You crumble to the ground, letting a small whimper of pain escape your lips. You grab your side, blood draining into your hands and onto the floor. 

Sator chuckles maliciously. “You seriously thought you could get away? This is my place. You’re playing in my world,” He shakes his head and reaches for his gun. He points the weapon directly at your head,

“And just so you know, I’m God here.” 

Tears form in your eyes as you hear the gun cock. You brace yourself for impact as your thoughts find their way back to Neil. You hate how you left things, especially considering that would be the last conversation he ever had with you. Guilt began to grow heavy in your stomach. 

What a way to die, totally and completely guilty, a failure, and alone, You think to yourself, as tears fall down your cheeks.

Sator chuckles again. “Crying are we know? Too late for tears, (Y/N). I think you’re all out of time.” You shudder at his words and you prepare for this moment to be your last, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“No! (Y/N)!” A familiar voice cries out from behind you. 

BANG!

You open your eyes to see Sator standing in his place, the gun now pointing above your head. You look down and see a single bullet right next to you. It must have ricochetted off the wall, just like yours did. But where did it come from? You think. 

Turning around slowly, you spot who Sator is pointing his gun towards.

“N-Neil,” You stutter, wincing in pain simply from talking. His gun points back at Sator. His eyes nervously look you up and down. This was far different from when the evening started. You remembered the way Neil looked at you when you had finished getting ready. You remember how he knocked on the door to your hotel room and let himself in. He didn’t wait for you to give him the okay. 

“Wow,” Neil said, taken back by your tight, little black dress. He looked you up and down, seemingly removing each article of clothing in his head. “You look incredible.” 

You missed that moment now. You wish you could just go back. But now you were faced with reality, with a gun in your face. 

Sator looks down at you, and back up to Neil. “I think I’ll let you watch her die, and only after you watch her take her last breath, I’ll kill you too. How’s that?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Neil states confidently. You look up at him, confused. 

Just as Sator pulls the trigger, Neil grabs your arm and slides you out of the way. 

In the near distance, just a short ways behind Sator, you see a fiery cloud of orange erupt, followed by a massive boom. Neil somehow was able to orchestrate some sort of explosion.

Sator stops in his tracks and turns to look behind him, giving Neil just enough time to pick you up and run down the hallway, turning down a series of other corridors in an attempt to outrun Sator. 

It isn’t long before Neil realizes that you’re bleeding onto him. “H-holy shit,” He looks down to your left side. “I need to get you out of here.” 

You ignore what he’s saying. “Why did you come back for me?” You whisper to Neil. 

He steals a quick look at you as he continues to run down the hallway, but he doesn’t answer your question. 

You clear your throat and try again. “Why did you come back?” 

He ignores you again as you approach an intersection of 3 hallways, each one looking the exact same as the one you’re currently in. Neil pauses for a second, contemplating his options. His heart is beating out of his chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous. While you had only been at Tenet for about half a year now, you had grown to know Neil far too well. The stolen moments you shared, the kisses you swore to tell no one about. You didn’t know what you were with Neil. You didn’t know if this was superficial or real to him. But, you knew his emotions like you knew the back of your hand. You could tell he was panicking. You had never seen him quite like this. Something was different. Suddenly, Neil grunts and choses to go down the hallway to your right. 

You wanted to say something to him, to talk to him, but you felt yourself falling in and out of consciousness. You knew you needed to stay awake. Neil looked down to check on you and immediately noticed your condition. 

“Stay with me, okay?” He begged. You had never heard Neil talk like this before. “Please stay with me. I’m right here, it’s going to be okay.” He started to pick up his pace, practically sprinting down the hallway now. 

“N-Neil?” You managed to call out to him. 

“Yes, darling?” He responded between gasps for air. You could tell that he was getting tired. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, looking around his body for any signs of blood or even for a possible gun shot wound. 

Neil starts to slow down a bit. He looks down at you again, “I’m alright. It’s you I’m worried about.” 

“You’re not actually worried, are you?” You ask. 

Neil stops for a second, completely out of breath. He takes this as an opportunity to look at your injuries again. He puts his hand over your wound and feels all the blood that’s there. He shakes his head, clearly nervous about how much blood you’ve lost. He readjusts his hold on you, making sure you’re secured in his arms.

He brings his face closer to yours. “Fuck, of course I’m worried about you,” He says in a stern tone. He seems annoyed at the thought that you didn’t know he cared about you. “What the fuck would make you think otherwise?” He isn’t just annoyed now, he’s angry, yet he doesn’t take his face away from yours. You can feel his breath on your nose, just like you did before. The wisps of his hair greet your forehead again too. 

“I-I guess I just don’t know how to read you,” You say, taking a deep breath once you finish your sentence. Neil quickly picked up on your labored breathing and began to jog again. 

There’s silence for just a few seconds before Neil finds the right words to say. “I came back for you because I care about you. The second you left I chased after you. You were just far too quick for me.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. You didn’t know how much he cared for you. You figured he only saw you as a member of the team, a coworker, a girl to flirt with, someone he had to care for out of convenience and association. The way he was speaking now lead you to believe that he cared for you far beyond that. You stare up into his blue eyes, gathering the courage to finally confess how you feel to him. You felt yourself slipping more quickly out of consciousness, and you desperately wanted him to know how you felt. 

“Neil, I just want you to know that-,”

Your words are interrupted by the loud swinging of a door. Suddenly, you’re outside the now flaming building and in the bitter, dark night. The wind whips and nips at your bare skin. You take a quick look around and remember that you’re in Amsterdam. At least it’s a pretty place to die, You think to yourself. You shiver as the wind attacks you again. 

Neil notices how cold you are. He sets you down on a nearby bench and takes his brown suit jacket off, draping it over you. He picks you up and starts jogging again. 

Just a short ways up the street is the BMW he had been driving for the mission. He opens the car door with one hand, making sure to keep you nestled into his chest with the other. He puts you down on the passenger’s seat, buckles you in, and carefully shuts the door. 

When he gets in on the other side, he sees you drifting off again. “Come on, (Y/N), stay with me, please,” He pleads. He leans over to you and gently kisses your forehead. Your eyelids throw themselves open as Neil’s lips leave your skin. He starts the car engine and begins to drive away. He doesn’t say a thing, but you can’t stop thinking about what just happened. 

“What was that?” You ask, wondering if he simply did that to distract you, to wake you up. He had to know what effect he had on you. 

Neil doesn’t say a thing. He only speeds up, blasting through red lights and ignoring stop signs. You look over at him. He looks like an absolute mad man. His dirty blonde hair is a mess. Dark, purple bags rest under his blue eyes. 

At one point, Neil turns the on the radio and glances at you. “Try to listen to some music, maybe it can keep you awake.” Or maybe his concern for your well being could be enough motivation for you. 

It feels like I only go backwards baby,

Every part of me says, “Go ahead”

I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again,

Feels like we only go backwards, darling. 

Neil somehow gets even faster. You notice that he’s pushing the gas pedal all the way into the floor of the car. You manage to get out one final sentence before losing consciousness, “If I don’t die from this wound, I might die from your driving.”

Then, your eyes shut and the whole world goes black. 

——

Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut, but you force them to open. There’s an arm pulling you in tightly to a firm, warm chest. You inhale deeply, instantly recognizing the scent. 

It was Neil. His face was right in front of yours. He looked so calm, so relaxed. Either this was Heaven, or he somehow managed to save your life from his hotel room. You were hoping it was the latter. You wanted this to be real life.

Neil began to stir about a bit, but his arm never left your back. In fact, the more he stirs, the closer you seem to get to him. You decide to take it all in, because you know reality is going to come crashing down eventually. You know Neil is going to back off of you, apologize, and quickly say that he was merely watching over you to make sure you weren’t dying and didn’t mean to fall asleep. There was no way that he meant to hold you like that. 

“Good morning,” Neil said casually, not taking his arm off of you. He manages to pull you even closer still. Now your noses are touching. A playful smile stretches across Neil’s lips. 

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You’re shocked, too shocked to say a thing. 

Your silence makes Neil concerned, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Are you in pain?”

You smile at him, “No, everything is okay. Of course I’m in pain, but this feels good.” Neil’s smile reappears. But, you’re still confused. “I just need to know something Neil,” You say, as the smile disappears from Neil’s face yet again. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks as he draws letters on your back, or at least that’s what it feels as though he’s doing.  

You shake your head slightly. “Nothing is the matter,” You pause, recalling the events of the previous night. “It’s just, am I okay? How much blood did I loose? And Neil I need to know how you feel about-,” 

Neil abruptly cuts your rambling off, “You’re alright. I took care of you after you passed out. I cleaned out the wound and sowed you up. It was easier to do with you asleep, to be honest. I don’t think you would’ve like it very much,” Neil grins before continuing, “Luckily your heart rate stayed completely stable the whole time.” 

You nod your head, waiting for him to address the half asked question towards the end of your rambling that he seemed to get the understanding of. But, there’s no response. 

You decide it’s time to say something. It can’t wait any longer. “Neil, I need to know what all this means. I need to know how you feel about me.” 

“Likewise,” He returns, but there’s no grin upon his face. He’s serious, if not somber. 

Regardless, you’re annoyed. “Likewise?” You repeat back to him. “I’ve liked you since the second I saw you, and I feel as though I’ve made that abundantly clear. I’ve given you all the signs, all the hints, and you just continue to play these stupid ga-,”

Neil cuts you off, “I had to sit there and watch you almost die. I worked on your wound all night. I’ve been fucking terrified for the past 12 hours wondering whether or not you would make it. I ditched the team to make sure you were safe, and I don’t regret that choice one bit. These aren’t games (Y/N). Being in love with someone isn’t a fucking game.” 

Silence fills the room. Being in love with someone…those words repeated over and over again in your head. You couldn’t let them go. 

Neil catches gaze and holds it. He’s waiting for something from you, but you don’t know how to communicate how you feel anymore. It was like he broke you. 

You know Neil can’t take the tension anymore, and before you can say a word, Neil’s lips hungrily crash into yours. He grabs your waist carefully, keeping you pulled in tight without hurting your wound. 

Neil’s lips leave yours. “Are you happy now?” He asks, brushing where he just was with his thumb. 

“Y-yes,” You say, wanting more. 

“Then it’s settled,” Neil states confidently. He smiles slyly, as he always does.

You’re confused beyond belief. “What is?”

“That you’re mine,” Neil says, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb. He brings your face closer to his, and kisses you again. 

[smuggsy]

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

[unkownknowledge]

This post is a sort of collaboration with @golden-wingseos who is kindly letting me use their toxic traits post as a base for writing some Fluff! Check 'em out! Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Albedo might be a OOC. This is my first attempt at more serious writing. And of course you should always remember that problems in a relationship might need more than a short talk.

Edit: request are open, if anyone reading this likes it feel free to request. Rules are pinned.

Now onto my post:

_____________________

Albedo: your heart is real

_____________________________

-you knew Albedo's secret, you knew his feelings, you knew enough to know he didn't want to love you.

-yet he did.

-you also believed he shouldn't be chained to someone else's wishes, especially when it wouldn't bring him happiness.

You were sitting in Albedo's lap, your head on his shoulder as you gently played with his hair.

"I'm going to destroy monstadt you know," he said, like he always does in an attempt to push you away, "that includes the people"

"Then I'll just stop you." You reply calmly.

"Then I'll have to kill you."

"So then you won't destroy monstadt."

Albedo was confused, you usually told him you would stop him but you've never said he wouldn't do it to begin with.

Albedo grabbed your shoulders and made you look at him, "what does that mean? Why wouldn't I destroy monstadt?"

"Because you would have to kill me." You said smiling.

'That damn smile' he thought, "why would I not destroy monstadt, not fulfill my master's wish, just because you would need to die?"

"Because you love me."

Albedo pushed you off and got on top of you, holding a knife to your throat, "would someone who loved you so this?"

"Yes" you never stopped smiling at him.

"Exa-wait what?" Albedo was dumbfounded, not comprehending what you meant.

"You're trying to push me away," you grabbed his shaking hands and pushed them down, causing him to release the knife, "because you don't want to feel any remorse, because you don't want to hurt me."

"Who says-"

"And I know you don't want to destroy monstadt," you grabbed his head and brought him closer, "because you love it there."

"I'm not real, I'm just a tool my master made to carry out their dreams. Stop treating me like a person."

"But you are a person, and as a person you can choose what you want."

"Well I want monstadt destroyed!"

"Even if that meant killing me?"

Albedo was shocked, he never felt conflicted before. Not in following his master's wishes, but now? At your words? He doubted every desire he's had.

You placed his hand on his heart, "feel that?"

"That's my heart..."

"So your heart is real. Now tell me, what does a tool need with a heart?"

Albedo didn't answer.

"Your master might want to destroy monstadt, but who says they want you to? Why give a weapon a heart?"

You didn't give Albedo time to respond before you kissed him.

"Your heart is real. Just like your love for me."

Albedo sat up and pulled you back into his lap, "you're an anomaly you know that? No one else can make me feel this way." He looked into your eyes and put his hands on your cheeks, "I guess I can hold off on destroying monstadt, atleast until I conclude my research on you."

"Well, let's start experimenting."

_____________________________

Hope that didn't suck.

_____________________________

Diluc: you'll get hurt if you love me

_____________________________

-Diluc has been avoiding you for a month now, he hasn't even gone out to do his darkknight hero duties.

-he's just locked himself away in his manor, ordering his servants to not let you in.

-Diluc, however, forgets that you met because you tried stealing from his house.

You were fed up with Diluc, he kept pushing you away and now he has CROSSED THE LINE! You're going to break into his room and make him explain why he's been avoiding you, it's been a year since you and him went on a date and now this? Something is seriously wrong.

You climbed up to the window sill and lock picked your way in, you walked over to Diluc's bed and sat down, waiting for him to return.

Diluc entered the door and, without looking, fell on his bed right next to you.

"You look tired, almost like you took the long way home just to avoid the route I take."

Diluc shot up and looked at you in shock.

You crossed you arms over your chest, "I want an explanation."

"(Y/n) what do you m-"

"You know full well! And don't call me (y/n)! You always call me 'dearest' or 'honey's, in fact you do a lot of things you seem to have forgotten about, like dinners, and tea times, and DATES!"

"Please I-"

"No! No running away, no excuses!" You grabbed his shoulders and turned him to you, "why the hell are you avoiding me!?"

Diluc looked up and saw you were crying. This isn't what he wanted, this is the opposite of what he wanted!

Diluc looked away, unable to face you, "Because I want you to hate me."

Your eyes widened, "w-what?"

"I want you to leave me, in a way that won't make you sad to leave me."

"Why!?"

"BECAUSE YOU'LL GET HURT IF YOU LOVE ME!"

You jumped at him and held him close, and yourself closer, "idiot."

"What?"

"I said," you managed between sobs, "your an idiot, Diluc. I knew full well what I was doing when I fell in love with you, and I did it anyway. What-what gi-gives you the right t-to abandon me now?"

Diluc was shocked to say the least, he didn't know what to say.

"I know how dangerous being near you is, how many enemies you have, how likely I am to die, but Diluc," you look up at him with tear stained eyes, "I won't be able to live another day, not without you in it."

Diluc pulled you onto his lap and held you, enveloping as much as he could.

"(Y/n)- honey, I'm sorry," he cried in your hair, "I'm so sorry, so very very sorry. I just wanted to protect you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt because of me."

"But you did hurt me, you hurt my heart."

"I know.. but please," he tilted you head so your eyes would meet his, "let me heal it."

_____________________________

Kaeya: no more secrets

_____________________________

I wrote this perfectly but the draft didn't save. If it's bad blame my rage.

_____________________________

Another day without you.

Another day spent drinking.

Kaeya remembered that day clearly, more clearly than he wanted.

Kaeya was happily walking home to you.

He was always happy on the way home, but he was happiest when he saw your smile. Lately though you've been acting strangely, he was going to talk to you about it today.

"Honey I'm home-" he stopped, it was quiet.

You were never quiet.

He decided you were just out, so he waited.

And waited.

And wait-

"Where are you?"

Kaeya reached for his drink, but he couldn't find it.

"Eh Dilc, wers meh ferkin dernk!?"

Diluc sighed, "sober up."

Kaeya slammed his hands on the bar and grabbed Diluc by the collar, "WAH SHELD AH BEH SURBER!? WAHTS DA FEKEN PEINT IB TAY AIN ERE WID MEH!?"

Kaeya fell backwards and cried, "wad tay lev meh Dilc?"

Diluc sighed and walked around the bar to his brother, "sober up," he picked Kaeya up, "and I'll tell you."

Diluc carried Kaeya to the winery.

Next day

Kaeya woke up with a scream, "(Y/N) WAIT!"

He looked around and saw he was in an unfamiliar bedroom.

Diluc walked in with water and breakfast, "are you sober?"

Kaeya held his head, "I wish I wasn't."

"Well you'll want to be," Diluc set his brother's breakfast down on the nightstand, "I'm going to tell you how to get (y/n) back."

Kaeya jumped at his brother, knocking them both to the ground as he held the red head's throat, "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

Diluc calmly pushed Kaeya off, who was weak as hell right now, "calm down, you need you to understand why they left or they'll just leave you again."

Kaeya just laid there.

"Good. Now listen because this is something it took me a long time to realize too: communication is key to a relationship."

"What?"

"Did you ever tell (y/n) anything about your work? About your dealings in the dark? About your 'off the clock projects'?"

Kaeay didn't speak.

"I thought so. Kaeya you need to talk to them about your life, if you don't you'll just drive them away."

"BUT I ALREADY DID!" Kaeya shouted as he slammed his fist on the ground.

"True, but I can bring you to them. But you have to swear you'll tell them EVERYTHING."

Kaeya nodded.

Diluc and Kaeya took a trip to Liyue, to a remote village you were living in.

"They're in here. Remember Kaeya, no secrets."

You opened the door at Kaeya's knocking, before immediate closing it.

"Go away Kaeya."

"(Y/n) please, I want to make amends."

"How? Batting your eyelashes? A kiss on the cheek? Sex? Well? What have you come up with as a substitute to trust this time?"

"No. No substitute, no lies, none of that. I'm here to tell you the truth (y/n)."

You opened the door, "no more secrets?"

"No, darling, no more secrets."

_____________________________

Childe: you give me strength

_____________________________

Childe met you when you first joined the fatui, and from the first day he was smitten. You always strived to get better, never once did your lack if vision keep you from being powerful nor keep you from getting more powerful. You were his ideal person for him.

But you didn't feel like it.

You always worried, 'what if I lost? What if I can't get stronger? What if I'm weak?' Were constant thoughts going through your head. You knew Childe was greedy for power, how he wanted nothing but power, how he would do anything for it, and as far as you were aware he cut off anything that held him back.

Even you.

You pushed yourself to far everytime you trained, to the point you were getting weaker by how little time you took to recuperate. But you never realized nor did you let anyone know out fear for what Childe would do if he saw you being so insecure in yourself.

You realized you were getting weaker and weaker, and that scared you, scared you to the point you decided to take drastic measures.

You decided you would prove how strong you are.

With Childe

Childe sighed as he wrote yet another debt collection warrant, he was tired from the month long mission he just got back from and now he had to do this. He decided he would indulge himself and pamper you when he got home, after all nothing pleased him more than seeing your constantly stern face blush and smile as he showered you in gifts and affection. And while he wasn't exactly good at reading people in an emotional sense, even he could tell you were insecure about something so he wanted to talk to you about it, maybe even introduce you to his family.

He wad actually getting lost in happy thoughts when a collector ran in, "HARBINGER! I HAVE URGENT NEWS!"

Childe glared at him, "what is it, I was thinking about my snow flower!"

"IT'S ABOUT THEM SIR!"

Childe snapped the pen between his fingers and stoop, "what happened."

"Sir they-"

"WHAT HAPPENED!"

"SIR! (Y/N) HAS GONE OFF TO TRY AND SLAY A GEO REGISVINE!"

Childe immediately bolted over his desk and sped through the bank, out of the harbor, and across the country of Liyue at speeds lost would think belonged to Baal themself.

He got to the regisvine just in time to block an attack that would have killed you.

It took him mere seconds to completely demolish it.

Childe approached your crumpled form, you could barely move and your bones were probably all broken.

"Ch-chi-lde..." you got out before blacking out from pain.

Next day

You woke up, everything below your chin was in a caste and you felt about as bad as you looked.

"Let me through!" You heard the one voice you didn't want to hear right now.

"Sir please they have to r-"

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER!"

A doctor was flung through the door and Childe charges right at you.

'This is it,' you thought, closing your eyes, 'he's going to cast me away, like I always knew-'

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of lips against your own, and a wet feeling against your cheeks.

You opened your eyes in time to see Childe pull away from you, "what were you thinking you idiot?"

You looked at Childe, dumbfounded.

"WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING THAT STUPID!?"

"W-what?"

"Why did you try and kill a regisvine on your own?!"

You looked away.

"WHY (Y/N)!? WHY!?"

"Because I don't want you to leave me..."

Childe recoiled at that, what did you mean you didn't want him to leave you?

"Why in the world would I want to leave you? Your my snow flower."

"Yes but..." you didn't want to say it.

"Come on, snow flower," Childe put his fingers under your chin and gently made you meet his gaze, "you can tell me anything."

"You...you only care for power...and I could tell I was only getting weaker no matter how much I tried, I was....I was afraid....afraid you would leave me...."

"(Y/n)," Childe said lovingly, yet with obvious sadness, "please, I dont want power just for power's sake.... I'm so sorry that I seemed that way to you."

"But you always seem so...dedicated to getting power..."

"Yes, but power is simply a means to an end," Childe chuckles, "I have a family, with a lot of siblings, and I care about all of them. I do so much for them, and every bit of power: be it with more, status, or pure power they are what drives me to get it. I'll admit though that it has developed into a bit of a....addiction, I guess you could call it, to battle and by extension to getting stronger. I-I didn't realize how much I let that take over-"

"No!" You shout, "no! Don't apologize for that. That's why I love you: your drive for power, your willingness to never settle, everything you do you do for power. I don't care if it's because you like battle or you like your family, because I love it. I love you. And I don't want to hold you back, and because of that I didn't want to be so weak that you had to....dispose of me..."

Childe kneeled besides you, "(y/n). You never have to worry about holding me back. Remember what you said? Even if I do, granted in a much smaller part than I originally stated, want power to protect my family, it is also very true that I want power for nothing more than to have it. But you could never hold me back from that, in fact you give me strength, (y/n)."

You chuckled, "that's so cheesey Childe."

"Well it's true, and the only thing more true is this:" Childe leans towards you, "I. Love. You."

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

[manndo]

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away. 

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud. 

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful. 

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there. 

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you. 

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time. 

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you. 

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren. 

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet. 

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you. 

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”  

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him. 

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child. 

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?” 

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while. 

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn. 

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

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