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futurecorps3 · 2 years

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Hello my love! I have heard your call for Kaz requests and I have an idea rattling around in my head!

Could you maybe do a Kaz x fem!Reader where they're in their early 20s and have been together for years and overcome Kaz's touch aversion (bc our poor boy deserves some healing 😭)? But that's not the idea, the idea is that the reader hasn't been sleeping for a few nights and ends up getting hurt because of it? Could be from fainting and hitting her head, slow reflexes on a job, etc. I trust your brilliant mind!

I can't wait to watch you grow as a writer!!!! ❤️

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐮𝐦

Masterlist<3

Summary: The lack of sleep Kaz has been warning his girl about finally has consequences. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Warnings: Mentions of overwoking, lack of sleep, blood, a very angsty moody angry sad Kazzle, mentions of blood and lost of conscience. The usual crow violence! Lmk if I missed any. Word Count: 3.5K whoops Requested: Yes

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! :( I love the prompt, however and am very excited to work on this. Hope u like it nonnie and that last thing means the absolute world! <3

˚ · • . ° .

Now he knew he was in no position to demand her to rest. Kaz Brekker was known in his close circle for two things; killing whoever disrespected his love and always scheming. The electricity his brain consumed when plotting the next heist didn't even allow him to sleep when being tucked in with Y/N laying over his chest. But she never had the same issue before!

That's how it worked. She got mad because he wasn't sleeping and would reproach his ears off until he folded and left his papers to join her in bed. So, it was safe to say Kaz was startled when he noticed the absence of steps approaching his office. The clock read the time to be a quarter past midnight. He learned by endlessly scolding from you the hard way it was no use staying up late for a job when he had pretty much everything prepared, so he dropped everything and left to his room.

"Darling, are you-" his question was answered as he opened the door and saw her drawing on the little desk he got for her. "Hmm, hi love. It's quite early. What are you doing here?" Kaz wanted to laugh at that. Had she really lost notion of time that badly? "It's past midnight now, Y/N. What are you working on?" His shirt was discarded in some chair, along with his coat.

He was now in his dress pants and a black sleep blouse, leaning over the back of her chair to see the canvas. It was a picture of the sea, surely an image she hadn't been able to get out of her head after the quick trip you took to the docks with Wylan to ensure a better hiding spot, in case things went south on Saturday.

"I don't know if I'm getting the blues right... you know how it somehow turns gray when the day's rainy?" she wondered out loud. "Don't throw it away altogether, I know you're already thinking about it" "I'm not!" Y/N giggled, knowing fully her boyfriend could read her mind. "Fix it in the morning. Let's go to bed now, yes?" Kaz tried, tilting his head to her right side and nudging his nose a little on her cheek as she hummed in response.

It had taken a long time, many years, to reach these moments. Years of hoping she could one day have his arms draped around her waist in security, head on his chest without a care in the world, because all that really mattered was they'd be keeping each other warm with their bodies. Y/N was patient, not minding the baby-steps and Kaz's constant need to push her away because he thought she deserved better. Truth is, there was no one better for her.

Kaz had a hard time wrapping his head around this fact. Did you love him for him? A limping criminal who was too weak to even bear the thought of embracing you when tears streamed down your cheeks on a specially tough day? Why? It took convincing, long talks, difficult moments and even worse fights... but you made it.

She felt his steady heartbeat as they lay together in their silk black sheets, indulging in the beauty of it. Their breathings became one, and she swore there was no better place the saints could come up with as heaven. "Everything's ready?" "Yes, I figured I should come here with you instead of overthinking it all. I'll tell everyone the plan tomorrow and revise it again the day before" he took a deep breath, turning to face her and leaving a soft kiss on her lips.

"It's late, you don't seem tired" Kaz noted, Y/N's eyes nowhere near closing as they usually would by now. Her boyfriend, on the contrary, was starting to hide that beautiful icy green his irises held, then came a yawn to confirm his fatigue. "Rest, my love. I'm sure I'm not too far behind," she assured him, pecking his head as he lay on her chest now.

"Goodnight, Kaz".

˚ · • . ° .

It may as well have been minutes, or hours, days, for all she cared to reason. All she knew was that she couldn't sleep for the life of her. Kaz moved a lot in his sleep and after he lost hold of her, the night became a non-stop tossing and turning in their shared bed. She could hear the faint sound of carriages passing down their street, surely carrying some rich merchant who just had the night of his life betting or in one of the pleasure houses.

It had been a while since she felt this way. Pretty much every night prior Kaz offered her a permanent position on the crows after she worked with them was like this. The clock in their room, hanging on a wall distant from her, kept ticking and if it got quiet enough, she could've been able to hear the gears turning. Three in the bloody morning and Y/N had luckily gotten by far twenty minutes of sleep. The girl sighed and lay down again, looking up at the ceiling briefly before closing her eyes in hopes of resting a little more.

She didn't, not even in the days ahead. Kaz pointed out how he could feel her moving way more than usual as his a light sleeper, not blaming her whatsoever but more concerned as to what was keeping her up. Y/N didn't know either, so she figured solving it with Jesper's coffee and quick (very ineffective) naps on the couches and tables at the slat so she could at least be aware of the task at hand; the job.

The day came, and she felt very optimistic about it all. Truth is, Y/N loved dressing up with pretty dresses and daggers hidden around her thighs. She found some kind of satisfaction in keeping this knowledge to herself, the men and women throwing looks at her, completely unaware of how dangerous she happened to be. People on the streets knew her as the wild child... ruthlessly gorgeous, is what Kaz called her.

The girl had a habit of getting carried away in a fight. Too much anger and resentment for the past had to find an exit. It did when she killed, leaving a scared Jesper to deal with an even more scared Wylan who wouldn't dare look her in the eye for weeks after she kept on punching a man's face she saw was trying to kidnap a little girl right after a job years ago. Kaz helped and understood.

His revenge was calculating and took years in which she was by her side, but Y/N just couldn't help herself when it came down to the people who did unspeakable things to her. With the years, she got a hold of herself even though her nickname on the barrel stuck, adding "the crow queen" when word got around she was Brekker's girl. Now, she was still ruthless but way more cold-headed and grounded, Kaz's doing.

She wore a pink dress with embroidered roses around the floaty sleeves. Inej had a blue set of dress pants and shirt, long-sleeved as well as Nina sported a hot red strapless dress with a lot of cleavage. "We're a smoke show! Those fuckers will barely be able to keep their eyes off of us." The last one squealed, adjusting her hair "That's the point" Inej giggled, agreeing clearly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Y/N laughed at the thought and her head pained a little; Girls on those big houses did the very same thing they were doing now, with very different intentions. Those ladies wanted to find a rich husband, and they'd be set. Her friends were dressed to kill, and so was she. A little fucked up version of a cliché she, too, wished to live when she was little. "I hope these sleeves aren't an issue" she wondered, picturing them getting stuck on their knife or maybe being too tight to throw a punch.

"It's a simple job, love. There's nothing to be worried about! Also, I can bet on my life Kaz is going to be drooling over you when he sees." Nina smiled, playfully smacking her shoulder. "Even more so if you fight in that, he's going to go insane" spoke the Suli girl with a giggle "Kinky" the heartrender added, making the girlfriends break in a fit of laughter. Nina was right, Y/N knew, but decided against confirming her friend's assumptions.

Her eyes felt droopy from the obvious lack of sleep but nothing a cup of coffee couldn't fix, right? She walked down the stairs and into the makeshift kitchen they owned, heating up some. The smell filled her body with pleasant chills, and suddenly some more energy invaded her. "Wacha got there?" asked Wylan, who was quietly sitting behind her. How long had he been there? How did she not notice?

"Coffee, want some?" "Right before a job?" "Yes, I haven't been sleeping too well the last couple of days". Certain zemeni voice erupted from outside the room, exclaiming a brief "Neither have us!" that had the merchling blushing like he got some contagious disease. Y/N delivered a pat on his back, and coffee in hand she exited the room.

Kaz gathered everyone in the living room, to revise the plan once more. "...so make sure you cover that corn-" He stopped mid-sentence when Y/N came into view. Her hair looked polished, but she could be bald for all he cared. The dress complimented her figure beautifully, adjusting in the right places, which to Kaz was any place, really. Inej and Nina giggled and high fived. "Go on, love." She smiled, ready to listen attentively at his plan even though he made sure to walk her through it personally a few hours ago.

As Y/N brushed next to him, he grabbed her hand to make her stop right before she got seated. "You're stunning. Is it comfortable?" he whispered, looking at her with a certain glow in his eyes he once thought lost. "Yes, dear. Thank you" she pecked her boy's cheek and took a seat behind him. He went on with the plan, and everyone seemed pretty much ready to leave.

So they did.

˚ · • . ° .

"Darling, watch out!" Jesper exclaimed, shooting at a man behind Y/N. Things went south, they did. In the hiding spot Wylan and the girl had settled; some dreg must've ratted, they guessed. An ambush from some new-forming band trying to get known by stealing from The Crows themselves, pathetic. Inej had gotten there to help, but Y/N and Jesper insisted she went back and warned the others so to spare them from possible damage.

The wild child and Jesper were a great team, who knew a durast and an avid fighter could take down men three times their size and weight? They proved on many occasions to be useful for situations as these, so there was no problem. They'd be out of there in the blink of an eye. Around ten people had arrived at the scene, and four remained, Y/N realized as she took a kick in the gut and fell on her back, jumping back on her feet with a flip.

Jes' revolvers did the job for two others as she managed with the guy in front of her. "Come on, big guy, that can't be the best you got, aye?" she smiled wickedly, taunting the man with a daring hand despite the very much broken rib she could feel. The dress was ruined with blood she was sure wasn't hers, shreds ripped it off so largely one of her legs was now exposed.

He lunged forward, coming with a dirty blade to her throat, and she skipped it. Came again, now, aiming for her arm and she skipped it again, landing a kick on the throat that left him coughing on the ground. Y/N crouched to his level and grabbed him by the hair, sliding a knife in the same spot, careful not to cut. She noticed a tattoo on his neck, a beaver. Couldn't help but laugh. "You tell your boss not to mess around with us, or next time he won't get too lucky as to get less than half of his men in one piece. And change the tattoo, a bloody beaver? Seriously?"

The man nodded furiously, tripping on his way out of the warehouse. "A beaver? Their thing is beavers?" Jesper laughed, putting his babies back in place and making sure the painting they had stolen was still with him. "I know, couldn't pick a funnier thing" she answered, giggling. Looking around, something was odd. Yes, Y/N was not very well educated and lacked the month of college her best friend had, but she thought she counted four men remaining in this spot of the building.

The other six lay limp near the door, and there were two next to them, plus the one who ran with the message. One was missing. "Hey Jes I think we're missing one" "What do you mean? There's no one here". She stopped listening and her world went quiet when he met his yes. A lanky, tall figure could be seen next to a stack of boxes on her right, a flicking light revealing him for brief intervals of time. Ugly motherfucker carrying a gun that pointed straight at her.

The blood started gushing out of her leg before she could even react. "Too slow" she faintly heard. He wasn't stopping either; shooting at various places until one loud boom next to her made it cease. Was concrete always this cold? Oh, she was now feeling Jesper's soft suit. Warmer. "Is that wool?" Y/N asked and realized her voice sounded a little quieter than she meant. "Yes, it is doll. Open your eyes for me, okay? You can't die on me now"

She really tried. She really wanted to look at her best friends face and maybe hear him crack a joke or two. But her eyes felt droopy and her head felt heavy so she finally fell asleep.

˚ · • . ° .

Kaz arrived minutes later, Wylan, Nina and Inej by his side as they all rushed to a crying Jesper, desperately trying to wake Y/N up. "S-she got shot, didn't flinch.. like she didn't even see the bastard," he hiccuped, letting his boss take his place next to a limp body as his boyfriend helped him up and hugged him tightly.

Brekker's head spun. A thousand possibilities. There was blood all over the dress, and leaking over his clothes but he couldn't give a fuck. Not her. He couldn't bare it. Y/N was a piece of heaven in that saint forsaken island, the only saint he ever believed in and the angel that saved him from himself. If he lost her, there was no coming back for him. The water rose to his nose again for a brief moment.

It hadn't happened in a while. And he chose the techniques his lover taught him. He acted. "Nina" he mumbled, taking Y/N on his arms as the grisha girl assured him she had a pulse. His legs carried him to the slat, never too far from Nina, as she was making sure her pulse didn't slow down too much. He didn't even notice the pain in his bad leg. He felt a sting on his heart, so sharp it seemed as if pieces of broken glass would poke through it at any moment.

The boy sent Inej looking for whatever idiot decided it was a good idea to try and steal from them. Only information. He'd take care of them later. The Wraith left and was out all night, returning with a lot to say the next morning. Kaz looked over at Y/N's face and the utter peace that brushed over her features scared him even more. Not now. Not like this.

"Is she going to be okay? T-there was definitely something wrong with her back there" Jesper started once the girl was on the bed and getting healed with a few healers in the dregs and Nina. Kaz was sitting, head propped up in his hands as he stared at the wall opposite from him. "She didn't move! At all! He shot her three times and looked amused while doing it". The zemeni man had to stop if he wasn't trying to reunite with the other deceased blessed people on his bloodline. Kaz's stare hardened and his jaw clenched tightly.

"Wylan, I can't lose her. She was too slow a-" "ENOUGH" Kaz stood up, looking at him with murder in his eyes. "If you were more aware of the surroundings, she would be fine. Don't you dare call her slow. This is not her fault. You should've been there" menacing gloved finger pointing to his friend. "Oh, so this is my problem now?" Jesper countered in complete disbelief. "If you don't consider your best friend's life being at critical risk a problem you're much more of a superficial, incompetent and heartless bastard than I thought." Kaz spat.

He knew this wasn't Jesper's fault, maybe it was the lack of sleep or you just weren't on your element. But he had to let it out with someone. Anyone. Pain turns into anger and screaming at your brother when it's too strong. He knew that better than anyone and couldn't care to stop himself this time. "Kaz, stop" Wylan said, and then he noticed Jesper's puffy eyes with a sigh. Then he felt his own neck starting to tickle. He was crying. Kaz Brekker didn't cry.

"Out" "But Ka-" "I SAID OUT"

And out they were. Everyone who didn't need to be there to save his girl's life. He could hear Nina struggling between wrecked sobs, fast pacing around the room and a distant sound of water running non-stop. Hours passed, and he remained in the same position, in the same chair, with the same thoughts running wild inside him.

Not you. Please. I should've been there. I'm going to kill them. Please be okay. I can't do it without her. Please.

Kaz Brekker was repeating pleas, thinking out loud to whoever was listening. Let her live. Please let her live. This is not her fault. Not to a god, neither to those saints who proved to exist so many years ago. He didn't know who he was asking for help to. But he was screaming, please don't let her go. He was leaving with her if she did.

All sound stopped, and Nina emerged from the dimly lit room, drying her cheeks. The boy stood up, looking at her with the most terrified look he ever gave someone. Fuck the facade. He was utterly afraid. "She's okay, not waking up, but she will". He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and couldn't help but throw himself into Nina's arms in search for some comfort to his wrecked sobs.

His friend received him with open arms, careful not to squeeze him too hard, as she knew that could trigger him. "I can't lose her, Nina" he whimpered before pulling away. "You're not. Not now and not soon. She's okay, Kaz. Stay with her, will you? She could be a little startled if she wakes up in an empty room"

He almost scoffed at that. What else would he do? A quiet nod was delivered, and he stepped inside to accompany her in an uncharacteristically unsettling silence. There were dirty gauzes everywhere, her dirty dress discarded in a corner and a blanket covering her figure. Kaz stopped, looking at your chest. It rose and fell in a moderate rhythm. Good.

Taking a seat once again, he held her hand and brushed a thumb over it, grateful to whoever listened. And Nina.

Sun bled through the curtains, filling it all with a pleasant orange hue Kaz knew Y/N would appreciate. Jesper came by every few hours and amends were made. He understood how badly everything hit Kaz the day before and didn't need an apology. They were all under intense pressure the day before, couldn't blame him for a such a reaction. Wylan had brought flowers and Inej made sure everything was ready for when she regained consciousness.

His crows got it handled.

A whole day and a half had gone by and he was reading beside her when she woke up. Her hand moved and he could feel the twitch in his palm, looking up frantically to find those pretty y/e/c eyes looking back at him. "Finally, got some sleep," she joked and laughed at her own joke. Kaz laughed back. "Hello" he offered, kissing her hand and never really wanting to let go "Hi". "Are you feeling okay?" the boy asked, happy to see his lover once again awake.

"It hurts a bit but I'll live" "I'm counting on that, my love". ♡

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sweetbillwriting · 13 days

Text

In The Dead of Night

ELEVEN

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

“He was in a coma six months ago? For how long?” I asked in shock, but Robin didn't react to it.

“A month, I think? I learned about it after a couple of weeks. His friends didn't know if they should call me and... Heroin. I thought he had stopped with that shit, but one of his weird friends told me he had overdosed on purpose because of depression.”

I looked down at the ground, thinking back on my dreams. Could it be that Eric was in a coma? Believing he was dead? I dragged my hands over my face and shook my head in disbelief. I had started to believe the dreams were just dreams, but now I thought back on it again. The Spotify playlist, the name of his biological mom, the places and drawings he had shown me... Could he in some way visit my dreams while he was in a coma?

“Are you listening?” Asked Robin a little irritated, and I nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just so much… He hasn't told me this.”

“He's probably embarrassed. He has overdosed twice and lived while other people who do something with their lives die of diseases. He gets saved.”

I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, trying to digest everything. I started to get a headache from it all and dragged my hands through my hair, but still I had questions.

“Do you see him as your brother? You cried when you found out he was in a coma, but you talk about him like an invader in your family.”

Robin bent down in a similar way as I and looked down at Odin laying on the ground.

“No. He's just Eric to me. He's my parents foster kid, but he's nothing to me. I get that sounds harsh, but I never understood who he was as a kid, and then in my teens he moved in with us permanently and made everything difficult. But… They also favored him so hard. Dad cut down work hours to be home with him; mom was with him all the time, and they gave him expensive gifts, and we traveled more.”

I looked at Robin’s sad face and how he dragged his feet through the wet leaves on the ground. Maybe it was actually true? Maybe they actually gave Eric all that. I could imagine they wanted to give him all the things he had never gotten to lay a bandage over the abuse and trauma his mom caused him, but it was too much to not get Robin's attention. On top of that, Eric had magical powers? I wanted to laugh at my own thoughts but couldn't do that when Robin sat next to me, but it really seemed like Eric was something more. He talked with animals, was kind to everyone, liked by everyone, and could escape death and visit my dreams. He sounded like a Disney princess.

Robin was quiet just like me for a while, but he wasn't thinking about Snow White; he prepared a confession.

“I never told mom and dad I was gay... It would have given them one more reason to love him more than me. Instead, I was the weird one, never meeting a girl. Did you know he slept with my best friend? And later, two other friends. He was clearly straight and on top of that an asshole. Now he has slept with a fourth friend of mine…”

I looked at Robin up and down uncomfortably. I didn't want to believe Eric had slept with his friends, but I could also see how that could have happened. Eric had been tall, hot, and sexy since his late teens, and on top of that, he had taken drugs then already. I swallowed hard when I thought about how many he probably had slept with.

“I'm sorry, Robin... I don't even know what to say, but… He didn't know we were friends. I've lied to him too…”

Robin shook his head to himself and looked down at his hands playing with Odin's leash, then he sighed.

“I guess I can't decide who you date… But can you promise me you will never force me to like him? And that you're careful? He is an addict, whatever you say.”

I smiled with relief, happy to have his blessing, but it fell when I thought about Eric. He would never forgive me.

“I don't think we need to talk about that even… He will never forgive me…” I took a deep breath to calm myself down because I could feel the tears pushing behind my eyes.

“Ehm, before I talk about him, can we go home? I don't want to sit here and ugly cry in front of everyone.”

Robin nodded quickly and fixed Odin's leash around his hand.

“Of course, of course.”

We went to my home, and with a big cup of tea each, I told him about my love for Eric. How he had pulled me in at once and how I couldn't stop myself from loving him from the first time we met.

“I had these dreams about him when I thought he was dead and… He really was everything I ever wanted from a guy. Nothing like Dante, then I met him, and he was the same, and… He really sees me. He really cares for me, and even if you can't see it, he makes me feel safe.”

I cried so hard, I didn't know if Robin could hear me, but it seemed like it. He looked uncomfortable, even upset, but nodded slowly.

“I… Well, okay, I guess. If you feel like that, I will not say that it isn't true; it's just that I can't see anything else than how manipulative and selfish he is. That's my picture of him, but… Clearly, you see other sides in him…”

I nodded and dried my wet cheeks, but new tears came.

“But it's too late now…”

Robin shook his head.

“In rehab, they talk quite a lot about how to ask for forgiveness and to forgive others. If he learned anything there, he would listen. It's worth a try. You should call him.”

I looked at Robin, who met my eyes. It was big of him saying these things even if he didn't like Eric. Once again, I dried my tears, and then I gave him a hug. At least he was a true friend to me.

I waited until Robin had left to call Eric, and then a bit longer after that. I didn't dare at first. Maybe he was really angry and would curse at me. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I thought about leaving it be, so I could imagine him not being angry and grieve what was of our relationship. However, in the long run it wouldn't give me anything, so I collected myself and called him with shaking hands. I heard signal after signal, and the fourth I thought about hanging up, but just when the fifth started, he answered.

“Hey,” he said shortly.

“Hey.”

“Hey… Ehm… I don't know what to say, Eric, more than I'm so, so sorry for… everything,” I said with a dry throat and was forced to even cough after I had spoke.

“Yeah…” he said with his thinking voice. I knew he was in deep thought just in the way he answered.

“I love you. I love you, so so much,” I said desperately. Eric was quiet, so I continued to talk.

“I just wanted to be with you. From the first time I saw your photo, I was—”

Eric cleared his voice awkwardly. It was probably a bit much hearing me explain my love for his photo.

“Maybe, maybe we can talk for real?” He said it in a dreamlike tone, and for a second I would have believed he had smoked marijuana recently, but I knew he often sounded like that when he tried to master his big feelings and sensitive heart. “I can come to you tomorrow?”

My own heart beated hard. I didn't want anything more than that.

“Of course, of course!” I said excitedly, I couldn't contain my happiness.

“Good… I'm sorry, by the way?”

“What? For What?” I answered with a giggle, like he was joking. I couldn't control the euphoria I felt of just knowing I would be close to him soon.

“For what happened with Nick and all that… I guess drugs are the thing I think about when life sucks. Like when you had those extreme menstrual cramps and you asked for—”

“Stop!” I said with a loud laugh, and Eric laughed too. It was a joke, a joke about that time I had such horrible period cramps that my ass cramped so I had begged him for anal sex like it was the only thing that could save my life.

Fortunately, it subsided by itself before we had time to do it, and then it felt awfully scary.

I could hear Eric's sweet little giggle in my ear, and I sighed with love.

“I really love you the most in the entire world, you know.”

“I love you most in the entire world, too, babe,” he said warmly before we hung up.

×××

“I'm sorry, but it sounds super weird you dreamed about me,” he said after thinking about what I had said for a while. I had told him I dreamed about him, but I didn't dare say I believed it was actually him visiting my dreams. It would be too much and sound a bit like an excuse from a stalker.

“It was! After the first time seeing your photo, I started to dream about you, and you were amazing in the dream, just as amazing as you are now, and yeah, I just wanted to meet you for real. And you were so different from Dante. Even the person you were in my dream was everything I wanted.”

Eric looked at me with big eyes and nodded. He put down his cup on the coffee table, then he moved closer to me smoothly.

“You have said many times that Dante was a really bad guy… What does that mean?” He searched my eyes, but I just looked away. I didn't want to talk about Dante like that.

“You can talk to me… I hope you know that.”

I moved closer to Eric and looked into his kind eyes. I was safe with him.

“He hit me a couple of times.”

I looked at Eric's Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“He hit you?”

“It was just a few times, but I provoked him, so it's just embarrassing to talk about. I don't want people to know how annoying I-”

“Hey!” Said Eric, upset, and it made me jump. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said softly when he realized he had scared me. “No guy has any right to hit you, even if you're annoying as hell. I don't care what you say about yourself, he is the one in the wrong.” He looked at me seriously but suddenly looked scared. “You know I would never do that, right? I know people say it's a bigger risk for abused kids to become abusive adults, but I would never ever in my life do that. I would kill myself if I ever did that.”

His words were sincere and worried, and his face, cute. I kissed his full lips and dragged my hand over his smooth cheek.

“I know that, Eric. That's why I love you so much. I would never doubt your kindness.” I kissed him again, and it led to us making out a bit. I crawled up in his lap, and he took his chance to pull down my tank top straps so he could play with my chest with his big hands. His lips found a nipple, and once again he sucked so hard it felt like he thought his next dinner was there. I dragged my hands over his head and cradled him against my chest while he found comfort against me.

“My boy… I'm sorry for everything that has happened to you in life…” I whispered and made him look at me, still with my nipple between his lips.

“I'm sorry that your biological mom didn't treat you well and that you met so many others that have hurt you…”

Eric released my nipple and looked away but still lay against my chest.

“I know it's her fault I am the way I am. That I crave... That I need drugs to calm my loud thoughts down, but I'm not mad anymore. She was disturbed. She was sick. The men… They're just faceless idiots to me, so there is no one to be angry with.”

He sounded so mature and calm, and I felt proud and smiled at him a little. It would be a good person like Eric who could see life from that angle.

“But when you are depressed, what is that about?”

He shrugged his shoulders and sat up.

“Depression doesn't always have an explanation. It's just like everything drops for me. Like nothing is important. It just falls to the ground, and I can't see an end. Of course I can have nightmares about the men who kicked me around or the times Linda tied me to the radiator for a day or two.” I gave him an upset look, but he didn't seem to notice. “But it's not those memories that make me depressed. That's just my brain shutting off.”

Eric looked at me and then smiled a little.

“You don't need to look so worried; it was fifteen years ago. And Linda is dead. She died of a failing liver when I was eighteen or something.”

I nodded a little and patted his cheeks. It was hard thinking that a kind soul as Eric had gotten treated like that, and it made both my chest and stomach hurt. I kissed his lips softly a few times, but I noticed quickly that Eric wanted more than that. I giggled when he pulled down my tank top again to touch my chest and when he licked my lips to be able to get permission to dance with my tongue.

Deep tongue kisses made Eric pleasurably groan, and when I moved in his lap, I could clearly feel he was hard. I dragged myself over his sex and could feel his cock grow to its full size in the loose-fit track pants. Eric knew what he wanted but also what I wanted, so he stood up and let me hang around him like a koala bear.

“Am I not heavy?” I said with a giggle. I knew I wasn't for him, but I wanted to hear it.

“Fuck no, you don't weigh a thing.” He said, shaking his head. He probably knew I just wanted to hear that but answered seriously so it would feel even more real for me. I giggled and leaned back while being in his safe arms. I could lean back a long way, and Eric let out a sound of admiration.

“Fuck you're sexy,” he said, and then put me down in bed. His words made me feel my self esteem grow, and I smirked while taking off my clothes while lying in bed. I moved sensually, letting him be my small little audience while I started my masturbation show for him. Eric stood and looked at me with an open mouth and pulled off his big gray t-shirt. I looked at his muscles shamelessly, and even if he was so close, I fantasized about having him even closer. I sat up, drunk of hornyness, and pulled him closer to me with a grip of the elastic to his dark blue pants.

From his navel down to the hem of his pants, I made a small trail of kisses. I licked the lines going down to his groin while teasingly pushing down his pants with his boxers. Eric chuckled a little when I licked closer and closer to his loins and helped me take the last of his clothes when my lips moved closer and closer to the root of his cock. He kicked the pants and boxers away with his socks and then turned around. His idea was to just attack my lips with his, but I stopped him because I wanted to look at him. Eric scratched his ear while I looked at his body up and down.

“Damn boy,” I teased and bit my lip. Eric chuckled, embarrassed but also proudly. He had a hobby you could see clearly how much he worked on, but also, he won a lottery in anatomy.

“Can I fuck you now?” He said and moved closer to me, and I nodded with a giggle. With a smile, he kissed me and moved over me, his body so broad it felt like it swallowed me up. He smelled like one of his expensive perfumes, mixed with herbal tea, and even that smell was intoxicating. With a swift motion, he had pushed me down on my stomach in bed so he could enter me from behind while he held me close to his body. I wonder if I could ever get used to his size or strength. I hoped not because every time he was close, I felt so blessed and protected, and I hoped I would never take that feeling for granted.

×××

Eric fell asleep after our lovemaking; most of the time he had held me up against the wall, and I could see that would even be much for him, but I couldn't deny what a feeling it was to be held like that. I felt small and vulnerable in his arms, full, overwhelmed, and light as air. He had instead held me up by the thighs while also moving in and out of me with fast, hard strokes. No wonder he was tired.

I swept my finger over his nose, following the straight nose bridge out to the upturned tip. He wasn't bothered by it; he just continued to sleep. Warmth rose in my chest while I looked at him, but another feeling started to take over. Hadn't it been very easy for me to be forgiven by him? I had lied and gone behind his back, but he forgave me after just a few minutes, then slept with me in the best way. The last time I saw him, he had also laid in a bed but had asked for drugs. Did that craving just disappear? I thought back to the moment in his bed and what he had said. He had wanted the morphine pills he had seen in the bathroom. Pills I hadn't hidden away before his visit. I stood up from bed and pulled on a floral kimono as I walked to the bathroom on light feet. I know you can guess what I found—nothing. The pills weren't anywhere to be found. I searched over and over in the bathroom, but there weren't any pills. I could feel the panic grow because I didn't want to believe it, but still it was there; Eric had just forgiven me and slept with me to steal my morphine pills.

I stood and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, more or less waiting for the inevitable breakdown. I loved him so much, but he clearly loved other things more than me, even if he had said he loved me most in the entire world. I waited for the breakdown, but it never came; maybe it had just been too much the last few days and there were no tears left.

I walked back to the bedroom, where he still slept with just the cover on his hips. I looked at all the badly made tattoos, the clues to what life he had lived and probably would soon live again. I wondered if he was high on something while we slept together. Maybe it was amphetamine that gave him his stamina. I kicked his shin with my foot over and over. That was the only way I wanted to touch him; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to keep my cool. I kicked quite hard after a while to make him wake up, and after three hard kicks, he looked up at me confused.

“I'm sorry, have I slept a long time?” He said with a raspy voice and rubbed his eyes.

“Did you just sleep with me to be able to take my pills?” I said crass with furrowed brows. He sat up and scratched his chest. He looked adorable with his big eyes shifting, but for me, that was just proof he had taken them; he couldn't even look at me.

“What?”

“My morphine pills; you have taken them!”

“What? No?”

“God, I never thought this about you, Eric!”

“But I haven't-”

“Don't lie to me!”

“But I-”

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sighed and looked down at the ground disappointedly. It wasn't like him to lie to me right in the face, but I guessed drugs made him into someone else. I looked at him while he pulled on his bomber jacket and turned on his heel to the door. The jackets were the only place he could have them, and for a few seconds I regretted not looking in his pockets but brushed that away; it didn't make any difference. Eric closed the door silently behind him; he would probably never be the kind to be violent in front of a woman. I stared at the door for a long time after he had left with tears in my eyes. I couldn't say why, but it felt like something didn't add up, but I tried to say to myself that it was just me who wanted it to be that way.

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

I thought back to his visit, trying in every way to find a time he could have taken the pills, but there wasn't a time. In panic, I ran to the bathroom, looking again through every cabinet and box after the pills. I threw things out on the floor to see everything better, but they were nowhere to be found. I cried hysterically because I couldn't find an explanation.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

I heard my own words in my head. Had I thrown that in his face, and he hadn't even taken the pills? He must have taken them. Where else were they? I needed to talk to someone, someone that could tell me I had done the right thing. I called Robin with shaking hands, sitting on the toilet lid with legs bobbing up and down in panic.

“My morphine pills were gone, so he must have taken them, but I don't know when he could have done it, but he must have, right? Right? I mean, where are they otherwise? He came here and pretended to be the perfect boyfriend again just to take them!” I rambled with a runny nose.

Robin was quiet on the line. I wasn't prepared for that; I thought he would just say I had done the right thing.

“I have them.”

I didn't understand what he was saying and furrowed my brows in confusion.

“What?”

Robin sighed deeply.

“I'm sorry, I thought I did both of you a favor by taking them away. So he wouldn't be tempted.”

“Huh?” My heart beated hard against my chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I had accused Eric of stealing my pills without any proof, and here I now sat with the truth. Eric was really the perfect boyfriend, but I had called him a junkie.

“I didn't want to do a thing out of it because I was afraid you would be angry if I said anything that could be critical to your relationship.”

Robin sounded sincere, but right at that moment I didn't care. I had called Eric a fucking junkie. I thought about his hurt expression but how calm he still continued to be. Always so respectful and sweet, even when hearing such things.

“Oh my god... Oh my god…” I said with a shaking voice and laid a hand over my mouth to cover my sobs.

“I'm really sorry, Della; this wasn't my plan at all!” Said Robin with guilt and stress in his voice. I didn't say anything because I was busy trying to control my tears.

“I would never do such a thing to you. Him, yes, but not you. I can punish him with mom and all that, but I wouldn't-” he interrupted himself, and I could almost hear his panic.

“...how do you punish Eric? What? How do you punish Eric??” I said, upset, and raised my voice. I had a bad feeling—a really bad feeling and ideas about what he had done to Eric spun around in my head.

“Nothing!” Robin sounded mad, but I was quite sure it was a way to mask that he had said way too much.

“Tell me now!”

Robin was quiet on the line. “Is it something about him not seeing Lotti? Huh? Have you kept them from each other?”

Robin sighed like he was irritated, but instead of saying anything, he hung up in my ear.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #the crow #eric

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skywarpie · 19 days

Text

In the Shadow of Memories

Anyway, ao3 is down and my computer is broken, so you guys get the fic here for the time being.

Tw: nothing much except isolation, and depression. But nothing like super bad. Nsft at the end and use of sex as a vice ig

Word count: 3,758

Summary:

Copia learns he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

Longing is something that he sometimes thinks he was born with. An itch that can't be scratched, save only for the sake that no one offers to scratch it. The longing of childhood – knowing that he never fits in no matter what. How he watched the other children as he was growing up, saw how their parents doted on them. How their siblings poked fun at them. It was something he never had, even though it was no further than arms length away.

He was seven when he slowly began to piece the pieces together.

Sister Imperator, though stern, seemed to show favoritism to him. It did nothing to help his social standings.

Then he'd overheard her speaking to Nihil. Talking about how their child was not shaping up to be everything he should be. Copia had wanted to scream at them, but it would draw attention to himself, and that didn't really bode well for eavesdropping.

Shortly after he'd tried to make connections with the elder three brothers.

Primo had seemed indifferent. Kind but indifferent.

Secondo had ignored him altogether, acting like he didn't even exist. Sometimes he didn't feel like he really did.

Terzo had – well Terzo had been his last hope. They were closer in age than the other two. Sure he was nearly fifteen years his senior, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? As a result of his hopefulness, Terzo had taken advantage of every situation, doing any and everything and leaving Copia to take the blame for. He was well aware Copia would never voice his own innocence.

By age ten, he'd been reprimanded more than any other child in the ministry for crimes he wasn't responsible for. Sister's irritation had grown and Papa Nihil’s hatred had taken a dark turn. Sometimes he shut the door in Copia's face, sent him on wild goose chases, it was all too much.

It shouldn't have been any surprise when a ghoul fetched him from his lessons one morning. Informed him his things had been packed and he would be set on a train to the airport. From there, he would make his way to Rome, where he would stay for the foreseeable future.

He'd wanted to ask. Why am I being sent away? I can be better. Where is Sister Imperator? Why wasn't she taking him to the airport?

But he already knew all the answers to those questions.

He was a bother. Cumbersome in a small bubble that held the Emeritus line, something that was already fragile enough without his unannounced parenthood.

Copia remembers trying to hold the large ghoul's hand as he stood in the airport. Wanting some sort of comfort, even if it was from someone sending him away. Instead, he'd been scolded. Told he should know better at his age.

He'd retracted his hand as if burnt and boarded the plane without so much as a hug, let alone a goodbye.

—

The years slowly bleed together as time continues its endless march.

Now at the young age of twenty-six, Copia has managed to become the youngest Cardinal in the church. He should be proud of himself, happy that he's accomplished something, but he's not. Being completely abandoned by one's family tends to have that sort of effect. Since his arrival here, Sister has sent not a single letter. He should know better but it doesn't sting any less.

“Are you listening?”

Cardinal Astra's voice draws Copia from his spiraling thoughts. “Huh?”

“Where do you go, piccolo ratto?”

Astra has been nothing but Hell sent from the day Copia arrived. The man had taken him under his wing and for a short while Copia got to truly experience what it felt like to have a figurative father. Even now, he still looks over Copia. He just wishes Astra's love could heal that continued hole inside himself. Maybe if he'd been his father instead of Nihil, maybe he wouldn't feel this way.

“I – I am sorry.” Anxious eyes travel downward to settle on the stone floor. He gets lost often, something everyone is accustomed to.

Cardinal Astra smiles softly. “Working hours are over. You are free to leave this cramped office and spend time with your friends.”

Friends. That word makes him nauseous. He's never had friends. He's had acquaintances but never friends.

“Ah – ehm – apologies.” Copia jumps up quickly, collecting his paperwork. “I will leave now. I –”

Astra grabs his wrist. “Copia, you do not need to hide yourself away. We are a congregation and we take care of each other, no?”

Copia nods, knowing he will not be doing that.

–

Copia grunts as his face is pushed further into the sheets. One eye squished shut. The other is trying to remain open despite the massive hand planted on his cheek. A brother of sin mounts him from behind, hips pounding into him like a jackhammer. He should feel something – anything, Copia knows this. Yet his cock hangs limp between his legs, swaying every now and then with each thrust. Copia knows he won't cum tonight. The brother of sin is a bit too harsh for his liking, but then again, Copia hasn't ever cum during these trysts at all to begin with.

A squeak escapes him as the brother thrusts at an uncomfortable angle. Unfortunately for Copia, the man takes it as encouragement and begins pistoning his hips in that motion until he finally cuts.

Copia clamps his eyes shut tight as what should be warmth from the cum inside him is slightly uncomfortable rather than pleasurable. The man pulls out with a grunt, flopping down beside him.

“Fuck that was good.”

Well, at least someone enjoyed it.

It's not like he agrees to these things because he necessarily wants them, rather than in times of desperation for other human touch he'll take a partner to bed. Sometimes he goes to their bed. It depends on his mood at the time.

He's also found himself preferring the brothers to the sisters. The brothers are easily able to over power his lithe frame, manhandle him in any way they want. Sometimes if Copia closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's a loving hug.

But it's not and it never will be.

Copia grunts as he tries to stretch his body out. The position having left him in a cramped state. He squeaks as a hard slap meets the meat of his ass.

“For a twitchy little guy, you sure are a good lay.”

It's a joke – or rather it should be, judging by the way the man laughs breathlessly.

Copia's barely had time to pull his face from the sheets before the brother is dressing and collecting his things. He says something, but honestly Copia doesn't bother to register it. He's leaving anyway. They always leave after.

–

He grabs the towel, drying off his hair and then his body. Then he steps out of the shower, discarding the towel.

Copia wipes the condensation from the bathroom mirror. He sees – honestly, he isn't sure what he sees looking back at him.

His reflection is tired. Even without the black eye makeup. His ribs poke out just a bit too much to be considered healthy. A tired sigh leaves his lips as his gaze settles on the bruises that decorate his whole body. It's a symbol that at least for a short while someone considered him something worthy of love. Even if it was just for a quick fuck.

Copia rubs his eyes before grabbing his robe and wrapping himself in the fluffy fabric. It grounds him. Gives him something to hold onto, to prove he's real.

He makes his way to his bedroom and lies on his back on the freshly changed sheets. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow will be another day. A better one.

It won't be, but maybe he can hope.

–

The pen scratches against the paper as he signs off on another document. By now, he's more than positive that he could sign his own name with his eyes closed. That's not really something to be proud of, so to say. But there isn't really much to be proud of when it comes to him.

“You missed breakfast.”

Cardinal Astra stands in the doorway, tray in hand.

Copia knows how lethargic he must look when he glances up. “Mi dispiace. I have been working on this.” He motions to the paperwork.

Astra purses his lips. “You also missed lunch.”

Oh please, don't do this again. Please. Please. Please.

“And it seems that you also missed dinner last night. If the ghouls are to be believed.”

Copia tries to respond but he's shushed.

“We talked about this, Copia. It is unhealthy. You must eat.”

It's not that he doesn't want to eat, so much as what has he done to deserve it? Did he finish all his paperwork? Did he answer correctly when asked questions? Is he even worth keeping around?

It's easy for him to brush it off as forgetfulness. Oh, I was so busy I forgot to eat. Silly me! It doesn't work on anyone, but then again, does anyone even care? Well, besides Astra.

“Sì. Sì. I am well aware of that.”

Is he though? If he was he wouldn't be putting himself through all this emotional and physical turmoil.

“I just – just got distracted.”

Copia sees the look he receives. Distracted enough to still be able to take a brother of sin to your bed?

Copia wilts.

Astra heaves a sigh as he comes fully into the room, shutting the door behind him.

No. No. No. This is not good.

“I had planned to tell you this over dinner last night.” He heaves another sigh. “You are leaving the abbey by the end of the month.”

Leaving? His head is spinning a mile a minute. What has he fucked up now? Why's he never able to fucking do anything right? Why – “Be-because I missed a few meals?” Copia hates the way his voice cracks.

“No.” There's a pregnant pause and Copia finds himself spiraling even more. “Your mo – Sister Imperator, requests that you return to the main abbey.”

“What?”

Astra smooths the front of his cassock. “I have no say in the matter, piccolo ratto. If I did, you'd never have to leave this place.”

He doesn't want this. He wants to stay here, in Rome. He wants –

“Sometimes He gives us obstacles that he thinks will strengthen us. Even if they seem like punishments at the time.”

It's then that Copia finally breaks down. He's being sent away as a punishment yet again.

–

The Swedish abbey is larger than he remembers. It's colder – not a surprise, and more densely populated. Albeit polite, a majority of the siblings look at him with disdain. He's a high ranking newcomer, of course they would.

The first week had been odd. Imperator doted on him as if she were a loving mother finally seeing her son again. Only one of those things was true.

She'd ensured he knew where is office was. How far away his room was. How much paperwork he was to expect and it was expected to be done.

She'd even introduced him to a gaggle of ghouls. Saying that since he ranked so highly, he required protection. Something told him it was just so she could spy on him. Copia was already a nervous man, this did nothing to help ease the issue.

It was easy to fall into a quick routine. The paperwork is really no different than what he did in Rome. It's the one familiarity in this new foreign land.

Unlike his younger self, Copia makes no effort to engage his brothers. He already knows how those interactions will end. Him with an even more broken heart and the feeling of isolation strangling him.

It still confuses him how Sister acts. When he was younger, she never even gave him a glance. Now it's like he was some sort of prodigal son returned to his home.

It made his skin crawl.

–

Slowly, Copia begins to acquaint himself with the ghouls.

Cirrus and Cumulus, the two ghoulettes seem to welcome him with open arms. Cumulus is quick to always have a firm hand on his upper arm. She'll then flash him a smile and it leaves Copia at a loss that someone else he hardly knows is aware of how to calm him. Cirrus is always first to give praise. Good boy! Oh, Cardinal, you work so hard. Take a break. It makes his head swim and he feels like he's in a fog at sea.

It doesn't take long for him to piece together that ghoul packs are female dominant. After the two of them start treating him like one, Copia notes how the other ghouls begin following the same act.

Rain is quiet. Mostly communicating through chirps and trills. He's small, not the smallest, but it's clear he's the youngest. In no time, Copia finds himself with a lap full of ghoul anytime he's in the den. It's almost comforting.

Mountain is – large. So much so that Copia has to tilt his head back to even see the ghoul's face. Not only is he the largest ghoul Copia has ever seen, but he's also the most quiet. The ghoul hardly ever makes a sound.

Swiss is…well, Copia isn't sure how to feel about Swiss. He seems feral most of the time, stalking the rooms, looking for something or someone to get into. It makes Copia uneasy and he tries to avoid him at all costs.

Dewdrop is entirely unapproachable. The ghoul hisses and spits anytime Copia is even in the same room as him. His words are just as harsh as his bite. On more than several accounts, Copia has left the room feeling like he is the size of an ant.

Then there's Aether.

The ghoul is large. Not as large as Mountain, but he's stocky. Oftentimes when in his company, Copia finds himself wondering how those large arms would feel encircled around him. How Aether could easily manhandle him into whatever situation he wants. It sends a chill down his spine and it often ends with him in his room at night, cock in hand and working himself to completion.

It's a nice change from the typical absence of arousal he's felt. But it's also frightening. What does this say about him? That he's so desperate he's gone to fantasizing about ghouls – his ghouls. It's a new feeling he's unfamiliar with and it fills him with dread. It's bad enough his habit of taking partners to bed has followed him here, but if Imperator finds out he's having feelings – let alone relations with his ghouls, well…that could be disastrous.

–

“Cardinal?”

Aether's smooth voice settles in Copia's ears like a warm hug.

“Uh – please – ehm – call me C-Copia.”

His voice wavers and he knows he has to look just as miserable as he sounds.

“Copia.”

It ignites something inside the Cardinal. The way his name rolls off Aether's tongue like honey. He wants more. He wants to hear his name said like that for the rest of his days.

“It's lunch time.”

Oh. Copia shakes himself. “Ah – thank you, but I need to finish this first.” Copia points to the stack of papers on his desk. He wears a weary smile.

“You can take time to eat. You're allotted a lunch break, right?”

“Well, uh yes but –”

“No buts.” Aether makes his way to plant both hands on Copia's desk. “You need to eat.”

Copia sighs defeatedly. “Alright. Fine. Fine.”

He lets himself be led in the direction of the cafeteria. He manages to eat half of some sort of sorry excuse for pasta. The whole while he listens to Aether speak of his packmates. How they're annoying. How he loves them even if he thinks of killing some of them sometimes.

It makes Copia sad and it must show as he begins picking at his food.

“Copia?”

“Hmm?” He doesn't look up from the plate. It feels like far too much effort.

“Is everything okay?” Aether's voice is tentative.

“Sì, just a bit distracted.” He offers a tired smile and it seeks to settle the ghoul.

“And you?”

Copia is entirely caught off guard. He's zoned out during Aether's spiel, getting lost in the lull of his voice. It's only now he realizes this part of the conversation is aimed at him.

It must show on his face and Aether takes pity, repeating the question. “I said my pack mates can be an issue, but they're still important to me. Then I asked about you.”

“What about me?”

“I asked if you felt the same way with your brothers.”

The fork makes a loud clunking noise as he drops it and it bounces on the floor. Does everyone know? Did they know long before he even did?

Copia feels bile rising in the back of his throat. Feels his eyes beginning to sting in that all too familiar way. He has to get out of here. It was a mistake even coming to the cafeteria with the ghoul. He doesn't even realize he's trembling, breathing heavily until a large hand covers his own.

“It's okay.” Aether's voice is soft. Almost as soft as his eyes. “You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked to begin with.”

“No, it's – it's –” Copia deflates altogether. He's so tired of pretending nothing is ever wrong. He's just …tired. “To be completely honest, I do not even think they know I exist.” The laugh that follows is meant to be relaxing, but it's self depreciating.

“What do you mean?”

Why does Aether just keep making this more and more harsh. “It is…hard to explain.” His hands move as he talks. “They are aware that I exist. They just ..eh –” he scratches his head. “I can not think of the word in this language.”

“Care.” Aether finishes for him. “They don't care?”

Copia nods. It sounds even worse when it's said out loud. It sounds even more crushing.

“That's okay. You don't need them. You got us, and me.”

Aether winks at Copia as he squeezes his hand. He wants to shout, exclaim how it's so nice to finally maybe feel like a person. But it doesn't keep the question between them from hanging in the air.

But for how long?

–

Months eventually turn into a year and Copia has made a semi comfortable life for himself here. Each day he eats most of his meals with Aether. The ghoul has made it his personal mission to ensure he eats three solid meals a day. As a result, he's picked up a couple pounds. Where once his ribs protruded, now a small paunch makes itself known.

It happens when Aether is at his apartments one night. He's helping Copia go over some numbers for the yearly budget. Who initiates it, he can't say, but be quickly finds himself sinking into the ghoul's affection.

Copia has his arms wrapped around Aether's neck, kissing him like his life depends on it. Their teeth clack together. Aether's tongue hesitantly asks entrance and Copia lets him in. As soon as his jaw is slack enough, Aether is licking into the Cardinal's mouth. A large hand on the back of his head pulls him further into the kiss until Aether is essentially tongue fucking his throat. He wants it to last but he really needs air.

They break apart, a small trail of saliva still connecting them. Copia gulps down lungfuls of air. His brain doesn't even have time to second guess itself, as Aether undresses him in a swiftness he wasn't aware the ghoul had.

It's only when he's lying naked beneath the ghoul that it dawns on him. He's actually erect this time. It knocks the air from his lungs to realize this is all because of Aether.

Their lips are on each other again, hands exploring. Copia jolts when he feels a slick finger rub over his entrance.

“It's okay. I got you.”

Copia whimpers and withers as Aether sinks a finger into him, working him open. Then adding a second and doing the same. When the ghoul pulls out, Copia scrambles to grab for him.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”

It's accentuated as Copia feels the ghoul's cock head slip inside him. Fuck they've barely even started and he's already on the verge of blowing his load.

“Such a good boy.” Aether sinks himself deeper until he's finally bottomed out. “Taking me so well. Like you were handcrafted for me.”

He wants it to be rough and demanding, but Aether throws him for a loop when he keeps it soft and comfortable. It has his thighs shaking as he wraps his legs around Aether's waist. He makes the half-hearted attempt to match the thrusts, but he's gone already.

With a cry, Copia's back arches, sending the ghoul's cock further inside himself. He paints his own stomach with white as he cums so forcefully that he sees stars. He only barely registers when Aether cums inside him, fucking it back into him as it drips free. When he's satisfied, Aether pulls out, eliciting a pathetic whine from Copia.

Copia is still staring at the ceiling dazed when a strong hand grabs him and manhandles him over. Oh. This is new. He lets Aether position him until his head is rested comfortably on a large bicep.

The quiet is comfortable at first but quickly sours as his thoughts spin once more. He thinks he does a better job of masking his emotions than he does, but Copia knows Aether can feel the tears against his skin.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Aether tips Copia's head to look up at him. “Did I hurt you?” There's panic in his voice and Copia hates himself even more for being the cause of it.

He laughs tiredly, wiping his eyes. “No, it's not that. It's just – no one has ever stayed the night before.” He tries to laugh again but it turns into a sob.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He answers far too quickly. But he doesn't care. “It – it's just nice to feel – it's just nice to have someone stay.”

Aether shushes him and eventually their breathing evens out. Copia's eyes flutter as he tries to stay awake. Ultimately sleep wins over. It's here when he's wrapped in Aether's strong arms that for once in his life Copia feels safe.

He feels loved.

#the band ghost #skywarpie writes #okay to reblog i guess #i just KNOW mobile is gonna fuck this up #anyway #ghost band #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #aether #nsft

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just-barely-a-somebody · 7 months

Text

I’ve got a take on a prohibitedwish/fionna and cake pirate au that I thought of while listening to music and will never write a full fic for, so I just wanted to write out the ideas I had for funsies

It starts at night when Scarab, a feared pirate captain, kidnaps Prismo, son of the navy’s head general, to be used as a bargaining chip to save Jake from being hung.

Prismo has befriended an owl (Cosmic Owl ofc) and it follows them as Prismo’s taken away. On the ship, Fionna and Simon are ready for when he returns and they have Prismo tied to the mast to be clearly visible.

With no better way to help, Cosmic Owl attempts fly in and attack Scarab. It isn’t very effective when Scarab manages to grab Cosmic Owl by the claws. Scarab questions Prismo about the owl and Prismo panics to explain that Cosmic Owl was some of his only company.

Begrudgingly, Scarab sends Fionna to get something from below deck. Fionna returns with a small pouch. Scarab takes a pinch of colored dust from the pouch and blows it into Cosmic Owl’s face. Prismo’s worried about how it might hurt his eyes when Cosmic Owl sputters and is now *magically* able to speak (the first thing he says is probably yelling at Scarab to let them go or something before being like ‘wait oh shit I can talk’). As Prismo and Cosmic Owl are both coming to this realization, Cake comes up from below deck and makes a casual comment abt how great two way communication is (ref to what the squirrel said to cake in fionna and cake).

^that’s like the closest thing to an actual scene I’ve thought of

so more general lore just laid out

Meet the Crew (and learn the lore):

Scarab- captain, helmsman (does the steering). He is the owner of the boat, and is the one to decide who gets to join and who doesn’t. To his own annoyance, their safety is top priority. He claims it to be because they’re already such a small crew, and cannot afford to lose any more (but really he’s grown attached, though it would take a significant amount of inebriation for him to admit it). He carries an unassuming cane everywhere because of its magical ability to transform into a weapon (his crystal from fionna and cake but pirate themed). Previously a bounty hunter, he formed the crew after a target got the jump on him and left a scar slashed across his back. Now they search for magical artifacts and treasure to get by.

Simon- navigator, cook, surgeon. He takes care of everyone’s wellbeing and responsible for most technical stuff. He joined the crew in pursuit of knowledge about the treasures out there to be found. Years ago his long time girlfriend Betty sacrificed herself to save them from the kraken that rose from sea during a large battle at sea. She did it by using one of their treasures to fuse with the kraken before it could sink their ship, and the part of her that remains now allows them to cross its territory unharmed. He still misses her, and drops small offerings/gifts that he thinks she might like into the water when they pass over.

Fin- master at arms. Fin is well trained in combat and responsible for teaching the others how to handle themselves. He and Scarab are well matched when they duel, with most ending in a draw due to an interruption eventually requiring their attention. Growing up he was an orphan living on the streets with his only friend being his dog Jake. They were thieves to get by, and one day stumbled their way into finding the sack of magic dust that allowed Jake to talk. One day they stole a relic from bounty hunter Scarab that granted Jake his stretchy powers. They were caught in the act, but became the first to be recruited by Scarab as he saw their potential. Upon Jake's capture, he has become dead set on saving his best friend.

Jake- Cabin boy. With his stretchy powers he improvises ways to help the crew or hold together the ship. He met Prismo by chance and got to know him well enough to find out he didn't like his life stuck on land. They became friends before Prismo knew he was a pirate, but things went downhill when Prismo's father caught them and had Jake arrested. Stuck in jail, his only knowledge of what is happening is through the complaints of Prismo's father blaming Jake for Prismo's capture. Safe to say, it's the only reason he has yet to be hung.

Fionna- Rigger, Swabbie. She and Cake are the most recent addition to the crew. Like Fin she was an orphan before being recruited, and was the same age as he was when he was recruited many years ago. She reminded Fin of himself, though she was much more eager to be a pirate, so he convinced Scarab to allow her and Cake in. As the youngest in the crew and filled with a need for adventure, she often is the first to rush in without thinking things through. This has gotten them into troubling situations before. To make up for it, she is doing her best to learn how to fight from Fin so that she can properly defend herself.

Cake- Swabbie. When she joined, she was given the same magic dust that Jake had. In Jake's absence, she has had to learn how to use the stretchy power relic that he left behind on the ship. With some big shoes to fill, she makes it her business to keep others positive/entertained (this has yet to work on Scarab)

Not sure if there should be Bubblegum and Marceline or Gary and Marshal, or both, so feel free to imagine their inclusion however you prefer. Coming up with this stuff is hard, okay?

Prismo- hostage. Prismo lived most of his life under control of his strict father, and began sneaking out at night to live his own life. With little friends, he befriended an owl that happened to nest outside his window. One night he met Jake and they got along well, meeting up every night for a week until Prismo's father caught them. Only then did Prismo find out that Jake was part of Scarab's crew which his father had been working tirelessly to catch. Prismo was grounded, and Jake was jailed to be hung. After his capture, Prismo sympathizes with their crew, and wants to support their goal of having Jake released. It takes a lot of convincing from Prismo to be allowed to roam free on the ship after they have set sail (which Scarab permits on the grounds that Prismo simply doesn't have the combat skill be able to seriously injure any of them even if he wanted to). Scarab is highly skeptical of Prismo's sympathy, and keeps a close watch that Prismo cant help but be highly aware of. Fionna reassures him that it's just how Scarab is, but with his nervously pushy attitude Prismo is slowly able to break down Scarab's emotional walls one by one.

If anyone does anything with this I'd love to see it

#fionna and cake #adventure time #prohibitedwish #prohibited wish #the scarab #prismo #simon petrikov #finn and jake #finn the human #jake the dog #fionna campbell #cake the cat #fionna the human #betty grof #just writing

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agentplutonium · 5 months

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hehehe would a 'sam drawing darlin' prompt work for youuuu 👀👀👀

OOOO this is interesting. Hold on lemme bang something out really quick.

Pairing: Sam/Darlin

WC: 958 (... oops? These are meant to be small), unedited.

Rating: Gen.

Zozo is talking about this post.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a stupid idea.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a trend!" Tank defended. "We sit down, set a time limit, and then show each other the result. It's fun!"

But the way that Darlin' was looking at him, begging him to do this--well, he couldn't say no, could he?

"Alright. Let's go then."

Darlin' would later deny this, but they lit up before rushing off to get the supplies. Sam chuckled, chest fighting in the surge of affection for them.

A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in the kitchen, supplies spread out on their respective sides, and papers connected to clipboards to "prevent cheating" (in Darlin's words). How they would cheat at drawing each other, Sam wasn't sure, but he was just along for the ride at this point.

"Ten minutes," Darlin' announced, setting a timer on their phone. "That should be long enough. You ready?"

"As ready as I can be," Sam said, a small smile on his face.

"Alright," Darlin' set the phone in between them, finger hovering over the start button. "And. Go!"

The timer started, and Darlin' grabbed their pencil in a haste. Sam wasn't sure where to start. His pencil hovered above the paper as he worried his lip between his teeth. There was just so much about his Darlin' that he loved, he wouldn't forgive himself if he left something out, or didn't do their beauty justice.

30 seconds tick by. With a deep breath, Sam started.

He wasn't new at drawing, by any means. He had taken classes around realism for a while and had a habit of drawing those around campus when he was in school. It had just been a while. The first few marks he made he went back on immediately. After a while, as he got more comfortable, it got easier. He kept glancing up at Darlin', watching how their eyes focused on what they were working on, how the sun caught on their eyes, highlighting the colour, the way that their lips parted just so in concentration.

Sam was always told that he was quiet, but when he was quiet he was observant, and his favourite thing to observe was his Mate. There were so many little things that fascinated him about Darlin', and he couldn't get enough. Sam learned something new every day about them and of course, he learned their habits and systems. He could live and breathe Darlin' if the situation ever called for it.

Ten minutes flew by way faster than he wanted it to, but he was proud of the work he was able to finish.

Darlin' resolutely set down their coloured pencil, sighing. "Okay. Are we ready to show off the results?" They asked, excitement just barely being held back.

"Do you want to go first?" Sam asked.

Darlin' nodded, grabbing for their phone. "We're recording this so I can send it to the mates later."

Sam chuckled but didn't object.

"Okay! Here, hold this up beside your face for comparison," they said, handing him their paper. "Don't look at it yet!"

Sam did, smiling to himself.

"Okay, you can look," Darlin' said.

Sam turned the paper around, and couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. In the most loving way possible, it looked like something an eleven-year-old would draw.

"Don't laugh!" Darlin' reprimanded.

"I'm not laughing at it," Sam said, "It's just so... good."

"Don't say good like that," Darlin' groaned.

"I mean it. I love it, Darlin'. I'll cherish it forever."

Darlin' got flustered at those words, but they refused to comment at it. "Let me see yours already, I'm sure you didn't do much better."

Sam shrugged. "That's for you to judge."

"Here, take the phone," Darlin' said, turning the phone around and stretching over the table. Sam did, trying to keep the camera steady. "Now give me your paper so people can compare."

Sam did, and watched as Darlin' held it next to their face. He had to say, sitting like this, he was very proud of how it came out. He felt like he really captured who they were. Darlin' finally turned the paper around, and their jaw dropped just a bit once they saw it.

"You didn't tell me you could draw!" They protested.

Sam laughed, head falling back a bit. "You never asked," he countered.

"Yeah but like," Darlin' gestured to the paper, "this is like, really good!"

"So you like it?"

"I love it, Sam," Darlin' said. The sincerity in their voice was evident, and it made Sam smile bigger. He stopped the recording before he continued.

"I'm glad."

"I feel like mine's awful now. Look at this!"

"Your's is perfect, Darlin'," Sam assured. "We can put them up side by side."

"I don't know if I want to do that," Darlin' said.

Sam stood, walking over to them. "They deserve to be put together," he argued, tilting their head up so he could kiss them, "just like we deserve to be together.

Darlin' groaned, rolling their eyes, "Don't be all sappy on me right now."

"Never," Sam said, smiling down at them before pulling them into another kiss.

"When did you even learn to draw?" Darlin' asked.

Sam shrugged. "I had a lot of free time between classes, so I used to draw the people around me. They weren't the stillest subjects, but it gave me good practice. Especially in learning to draw fast, because there is no guarantee they would stay there for more than a few minutes."

"How come I never heard about this?"

Sam laughed, "Again, because you never asked."

Darlin' rolled their eyes. "Jerk."

Sam hummed, "A jerk that you love."

"Not the point."

"Sure it isn't," Sam said, kissing them again.

-END-

#thank you for the idea zozo <3 #plutonium_oneshot #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted tank

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neogandw · 7 months

Text

Continuing onward, page 2 of 6, the rest of which you can see here.

Honestly this page was a lot of fun, I love recreating areas in gaming a lot, so this was a lot of fun with the whole playing around with multiple universes in smash to give the idea that the Inkling girl just can't hit a shot.

Of note:

I like to think that Inkling Girl's first mistake was skipping Sheldon's explanation. Like, I get it, but his bios do give you a hint of how the thing is supposed to work. Just because you're familiar with a thing it doesn't mean you should skip the manual.

I could have straight up taken a picture of Mementos, but I instead re-drew the whole bit (if anything I just reused a re-draw of the main mementos map which I have done in a previous drawing project). I honestly do not skip steps, if I can recreate a thing for the shot, I'll go out of my way to do it. It makes things look more seamless and in-line with the drawings as a whole if I do everything from scratch, though I'm not above re-using previous drawing assets if I can get away with it (since the mementos map never really changes, I can just reuse that isolated re-draw I have).

If you want it for whatever reason, here it is.

Oh, by the by, I kinda based Joker's render off his appearence in Tactica since that had been recently released by the time I was doing the drawing. I do like the tactica renders so I may base the persona characters off that to simplify them a bit style-wise.

I know WarioWare being used for Samus is a bit of an odd choice, but I figured I could just do a simpler area rather than going with either Norfair (all that lava would get in the way of the ORANGE paint), Brinstar (same, but Yellow) or Frigate Orpheon (I didn't really need the parasite queen in the background). Adding Pikachu in was a later idea just to highlight how much she's missing the shot.

Dedede and a Pikmin laying down was funny enough already, but here's a bit of hilarity I thought about (and I know that explaining the joke ruins it, but you know, this is supposed to be a commentary): this is flat zone, it's entirely 2D, the inkling girl somehow missed the shot even when you only needed to aim left or right.

I like Minecraft a lot, but when DRAWING the universe its a bit dull if everything is just cubes. So while I totally can do that I just choose to make a stylized version that is semi-cubey for most everything. Though Alex I prefer to go full proportions.

Alex being more human proportioned does bring some challenges since I do want her to look like a country bumpkin of sorts, so this comic helped me finalize how I would do it. Honestly its kind of based on how artist Peargor does it. Though I'm gonna go with a longer braid and some freckles.

I do largely prefer Alex over Steve though, so you'll likely see her whenever I involve minecraft on my drawings. If I were to draw steve though? I'd likely make him buff. I tend to think of Alex as the builder/farmer (which is my playstyle) whereas Steve is the adventurer (how my friends play the game).

I didn't actually borrow any textures from Minecraft, they were self made. Which is kind of why they're kind of shit.

Honestly drawing the regular Charger was a bit of a thing. The Splatoon weaponry can be very complex in its detailing so for the first few panels it was kind of traced. Over time I just did it on my own for later panels.

Tracing isn't a bad practice, just as long as you don't pass an entirely traced work as your own. Trace responsibly kids, it helps learn how to do a thing.

#splatoon #nintendo #smash bros #SSBU #Super Mario Bros #King Dedede #Kirby #Pikmin #Metroid #Samus aran #Minecraft #Persona 5 #Joker #Wario #independent artist #commission

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literaryfandomangel · 3 months

Text

The Promise - Chapter Twenty-Four

The following day, I was excited and eager for our upcoming date. We strolled casually along the Boardwalk, and I couldn't help but relish the novelty of going on an official date. It was always a delightful surprise to see their chosen places, as they had never taken me to a spot on the Boardwalk during our previous outings.

“Come on!” Grandpa's voice echoed from the weathered stable doors, beckoning me to start my horse-riding lesson for the day. Reflecting on my last session, I fondly remembered learning how to tack a horse before Grandpa guided me through bonding with the magnificent animal.

“Coming!” As I hurriedly tied the laces of my boots, I could feel the excitement inside me. I dashed towards the barn, eager to see Moonlight. When I arrived, I saw Grandpa had already taken up the beautiful horse. With a warm smile, he led me into the outside ring, where the moment had finally come to mount the horse for the first time.

Grandpa's weathered hands gently lifted me into the saddle, where I perched, feeling the precarious balance atop the majestic horse. As the horse moved, I could feel the powerful muscles subtly shifting and flexing beneath me. Nervously, I clutched the saddle's horn, my heart racing with the rocking movement.

“It’s alright,” Grandpa soothed, not allowing the horse to walk forward, as I was so nervous. “She’s just shifting, getting used to the weight on her back.”

“Okay,” I swallowed as if all the moisture had been wicked away from my throat and mouth.

“I’ll be right here this entire time,” I gazed intently as Grandpa carefully secured a long line to the horse's bridle. Despite my nervousness about my initial horseback riding experience, I found reassurance in Grandpa's expert handling of the horse. I knew I wouldn't be left to navigate alone or have control of steering the horse.

“Squeeze her with your thighs,” As I watched my grandpa take hold of the long line, I felt a sense of trust wash over me. Taking a deep breath, I followed his guidance. Moonlight, the horse, began to move forward, and as I adjusted to her gradual steps, my body subtly swayed with her motion. I focused on finding my center of balance, adapting to the unexpected rhythm of the horse's movement.

In the beginning, it was pretty challenging. My grandpa constantly reminded me to keep my heels down while riding. He even took the time to demonstrate what could go wrong if I didn't pay attention. I vividly remember the moment when my shoes slipped right out of the stirrups, highlighting the importance of his advice.

Feeling my heart racing as my feet dangled by the horse's side, I found it quite unsettling to try to slide them back into the stirrups, especially while the horse was barely walking. It was akin to the nerve-wracking sensation of riding a motorcycle without a helmet – a touch of danger looming over the experience.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” Grandpa called, noticing my panic. “Calm down. You project your feelings onto the horse.”

Grandpa skillfully brought the horse to a stop, his experienced hands reassuring me as I tried to regain my composure. Drawing close, he patiently guided me to reposition my feet in the stirrups, ensuring they were secure. With a deep sense of wisdom, he imparted firm instructions on the importance of keeping my heels firmly grounded toward the earth.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Grandpa stated, patting my thigh with his hand. “We’ll go slow.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I expressed my gratitude to him before allowing Grandpa to return to his position. After that, I gently squeezed the side of Moonlight to signal the start of a leisurely walk around the riding ring.

After a little while, a broad, warm smile spread across Grandpa's face. In response, I gave him a big thumbs up and a nod. My grin felt stretching from ear to ear, expressing my sheer delight at the opportunity to ride a horse.

“You think you want to go a little faster?” As I slowly walked the horse around the ring, Grandpa asked me a question after some time. I paused momentarily, contemplating my answer before feeling a surge of confidence in my abilities. Finally, I gave Grandpa a slight nod in response. Despite feeling hesitant, I hoped I wasn't visibly nervous.

“Alright,” Grandpa gave me an encouraging nod. “I won’t let go of the rope, I promise. But I want you to squeeze her while Moonlight is alright walking. Alright?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” I nodded, hesitating momentarily before I did as commanded. I softly applied pressure to the mare's sides with my heels before gripping the saddle horn more tightly as Moonlight quickened her pace, causing my body to sway in rhythm with her movements under the soft glow of the sunlight.

“Are you alright?” Grandpa called. I paused to contemplate my emotions before giving a subtle nod. My knuckles clenched the saddle horn, the pressure turning my skin white. Gradually, I managed to ease my grip. However, I was struggling to find the precise center of balance.

We had lost track of time. Then I heard the front door slam and turned in the saddle. The leather creaked underneath my slight weight as I looked at Sam. He was frowning as he stood on the porch.

“Sammy!” I called, waving my hand at my little brother. He scowled before turning to go back inside the house. I sighed, turning back to face the front. “I should get lunch started, Grandpa.”

“Alright,” Grandpa nodded, stopping Moonlight from continuing her light workout. He helped me down off the tall animal. My legs felt like jelly when I finally stood on the solid earth for the first time in hours. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I laughed off the feeling. “I’ll make your lunch too, Grandpa!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Grandpa winked at me. As I strolled into the house, I couldn't help but notice the living room in disarray. I wondered what mischief my teenage brother had been up to, but I simply made a mental note to clean up after him later.

I hastily prepared a simple lunch of sandwiches for both Sam and Grandpa. They eagerly consumed the food as if hungry, practically licking their plates clean. Despite my offer to make more, they politely declined. As I tidied up the kitchen, Sam retreated to the front porch with a comic book while Grandpa disappeared into his taxidermy room, each engrossed in their activity.

After wiping down the countertops and straightening up the kitchen, I transitioned to the living room, where a tangled mess of books, magazines, wrappers, and comics greeted me. It took some time, but I managed to restore order, knowing full well that my brother would only create chaos once again. Next, I gathered the laundry and started a load, knowing that it would help Mom, who always had a long day at work. As I carefully sorted the clothes and loaded them into the humming washing machine, the phone's shrill ring pierced the air, and I watched as Sam hurried to pick it up, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Aria! It’s Mom!” Sam shouted. I winced at the volume of his voice but walked into the kitchen, where Sam was holding the corded phone. “She wants you.”

“Mom?” I asked, motioning for Sam to dry the dishes by the sink. He rolled his eyes but started to do as he was told.

“Honey?” Mom asked over the phone. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I told my mother, who had noticed my heavy breathing. I'm just doing some chores around the house.”

“Please don’t overwork yourself,” Mom fretted. “I need you to start dinner for me.”

“Sure, the guys will be here to pick me up at 8,” I agreed but told my Mom about my plans simultaneously. She was silent. “Mom?”

“I invited Max to dinner tonight,” Mom said, her voice a little hesitant. “I want you and Sam to meet him.”

“Okay,” I drew out my response, trying to get my brain to think sluggishly. “Then, after dinner, Samm will have to be on dish duty. I won’t have time.”

“Honey, I told Max to be at the house at 8 for dinner,” Mom interrupted. This time, it was my turn to go silent. “I’m sorry—I can cancel.”

“No!” I blurted out. “When they come, I can ask them to postpone the date, Mom.”

“No,” Mom sounded thoughtful. “Why don’t you invite them to stay for dinner?” My heart nearly skipped a beat at this suggestion.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Mom replied. “I’ll be home by seven-thirty.”

“Okay,” I hung up the phone once we had cemented the plans. I let out a breath of air before thinking. “SAM!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

#the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #the lost boys x emerson sister #fanfiction #emerson sister #dwayne x reader #david x reader #david tlb

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littlegodzilla · 2 years

Text

Hiii!! Here I am with another chapter! Our guys left the farm and now they need to find other place where they can be safe and Lori could have her baby. So... let's to see what's happen!

Thanks for reading, the comments and reblogs I'm really happy that you liked the story!

Enjoy this part too!

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Our Story.

Daryl Dixon x Wife/ Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Part 9.

Masterlist.

Warnings: TWD tense moments and violence. Fluff stuff.

Words: 3.400

Summary: You found the prison, you have a new home, but not everything is so easy.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Chapter 9. Prison.

You have lost count of how long you have been wandering without stopping for even two seconds to sleep. Lori is getting bigger and bigger, each time the urgency to find a safe place weighs on all of you like a burden. Time is running out on your account.

God, you would have even eaten from that can of dog food Carl found in the last house you unsuccessfully tried to shelter in. Daryl has managed to catch an owl, but it didn't have much meat on it either. You are now standing in your cars, some of them are still running, which is almost like a miracle, Lori is catching her breath, running and walking for a long time is already proving to be a hard task for her.

"I'm gonna see if I can find somethin' else to eat." Daryl says looking at Rick.

"I'm coming with you." He nods with his knife, following the archer.

The rest of you stay behind to secure the perimeter. Carl and Sophia are with Carol and Lori, they're hungry, but hanging on as best they can, as is everyone else. You sigh, picking up your arrows and counting them. You don't have many left, in a little while you should look for new branches and make more, in the last escape you left too many on the way. You grab your knife picking up several branches from the ground and start sharpening the tip of each one.

"I'm hungry..." Sophia murmurs.

"I know, honey, but you have to hang in there for a bit, Daryl and Rick have gone to get more food." Attempts to cheer up her and her mother.

"Can we practice?" she asks again, looking at you.

"Sure, let's aim for those trees over there." You point to some trees near the road.

You don't need to go very far, just a few yards, it's not much but it will keep the kids distracted, at least for the time Rick and Daryl are away. In those months they have improved a lot, both Sophia and Carl, even Carol is more skilled with her own bow, Carl is still more comfortable with the gun his father gave him, but he knows how to defend himself with both, Sophia for her part has perfected the technique and like you, carries a knife in her belt in case she runs out of arrows. They are still children, but they have learned fast and have taken on the role of being one more in the group, their childhood is being left behind, forced to grow up too fast.

"Uh, that was a close one." Sophia protests when her arrow falls a little short of yours.

"That wasn't bad at all." You smile flatteringly to keep her from getting discouraged. Suddenly your arrow flies through the air, you turn and see Daryl and Rick emerge from the trees. "You owe me an arrow." You reproach him and he twists his head, as if it doesn't go with him.

"We bring news." Rick says, gaining everyone's attention. "We've found a place..."

*****************

If at any other time in your life you had been told that the safest place to live was going to be inside a prison, you would have laughed, very hard too. But now, it's as rational as it gets. It won't be easy to get in, Rick explains the plan, how he wants to divide the group to enter and attack the dead. The main idea is to close the gates, occupy the entire garden, at least there with the watchtowers you would have a roof in case the weather in Georgia should change again. Maybe little by little you could try to get in.

You all know your place and your mission. Beth along with Maggie and Lori stand on one side of the fence drawing the attention of the dead. You make a hole so you can enter, Carl and Sophia along with Carol, Glenn, Rick, Daryl and you advance down the outside corridor heading towards the main gates where the front yard you want to occupy is.

"Ready?" Rick asks in a whisper.

You all nod as he opens one of the doors. The first shot is yours. From the position, along with Sophia, you clear the way for Carol and Daryl who run to one of the watchtowers to shoot from there, giving Rick a clear path as he runs to the other door to close it, preventing the Walkers from getting out. Leaving all that space for you.

It is immense, a free place, without danger, you have checked that none of the fences have any holes that you could regret. Nothing. Everything is yours. You are exhausted, but happy, you no longer need to keep running, you can set up camp there, rest at last.

You can't help it but as you enter the safe zone, you drop down on the growing grass, throwing your bow, spreading your legs and arms in a star shape, smiling broadly, laughing. Carl and Sophia mimic you by throwing themselves right next to you, you hear Carol get excited at the amount of space you have and your laughter grows louder. A figure blocks the sun in front of you, you open your eyes to discover Daryl looking down at you from above, head cocked to one side.

"Enjoyin' a sunny day, Majesty?" he jokes raising an eyebrow, stretching a hand toward you.

"You're not going to depress me, not today, Dixon." You joke with him, but accept his hand and let him lift you up. "It's a huge place."

"And it's all ours...come on, we still have to move the bodies out of the way."

You accept his orders, you're in too good a mood for some zombie bodies to dampen your spirits. Together you pile up the bodies, bring the cars and the rest of your supplies into the same place, manage to unlock the main doors so you can close the corridor and the door to the courtyard. Again you have that feeling of calm surrounding you. It is true that from afar you can still hear the panting and grunting of the rest of the Walkers in the place, but Rick already seems to be looking for a solution for that.

"We'll take different shifts on watch tonight." Rick says as you leave the cars and everything ready to set up the small camp.

"I'll take the first shift tonight." Daryl says. "The rest of ya can rest."

"You need rest too." Carol tells him in a soft tone and you watch their interaction curiously.

Daryl and Carol are forging a bond, you can feel it, something between them is starting to appear and you smile once again. You're glad, he told you he missed your sister, that it hurt, but you also think Daryl has a right to feel something for someone new. Not to hold on to a memory. If he's chosen Carol, you're happy for them, because you like the couple they make and Sophia, though respectfully, is curious about the archer.

"You look very happy." Beth comments and you smile again.

"Yeah, something tells me we're starting a new life, don't you think? Looks like things are finally going to change..." You shrug feeling your heart hammer hard in your rib cage.

"Uhm, yeah, I guess..." She smiles a little too.

"You'll see how things get better." You want to cheer her up again and you hug her.

Night falls, but you are no longer afraid, the group prepare a fire, with what you still have left and have found, you prepare everything, divide the rations, giving the biggest ration to Lori, for her baby. You all are enjoying a quiet night, when you see Carol walk away from the group to the bus where Daryl is standing guard. A new smile breaks out on your face as you see her carrying a bowl of food for him. It's cute and cuddly, from your distance you see them talking, they seem to be joking, Daryl massages her shoulder, she has used one of the rifles to stop several Walkers, she looks exhausted, but holds on. You look away to give them privacy returning your focus to the group, Beth breaks into song and it warms your heart, Rick returns from inspecting the fence once more, Daryl and Carol appear shortly after.

Daryl walks over to you, sits down next to you and hands you his poncho, you look at him confused, but he just shakes his shoulders, like so many other times and pulls it over your head and you settle under the thick, warm fabric, looking up at him gratefully as he closes his leather jacket to keep his own warmth in.

"It's still gonna be cold tonight, and the fire might not hold much. I dunno where ya left yer damn jacket..."

"I lost it on purpose so you'd give me this." You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"I figured as much." He squeezes your shoulder and leans you against him. "Try to sleep."

"I can't, my shift on watch starts now." You laugh and let go of him slowly, getting up. "But I'm taking this with me." You wink at him pressing the poncho against you and grab the bow before heading towards the bus.

The night is quiet, dark, you've never noticed how dense it could be without all the light pollution, you like it, it's beautiful in its own way and the sky is covered with stars, even the moon seems bigger.

"Have ya fallen asleep already?" Daryl's voice startles you for a moment and you see him climb onto the roof of the bus where you are.

"What are you doing here?" you ask with a frown. "Don't you know what sleep means?"

"Nope. Ya?"

"It's my turn, I don't need to sleep."

"We all need sleep... What do y'think of Rick's plan?"

"Risky, but if like he says we can get our hands on one of those blocks, with supplies, infirmary even some shower... that would be wonderful. Especially the shower thing." You hear Daryl snort in amusement.

"I've smelled worse, y'ain't that bad." He taunts you and you open your mouth wide, smacking him on the arm.

"I can't say the same for you! How do you do it? You rub dead squirrels all over yourself?"

"It's the special essence of the hunter."

You both laugh loudly as you wrinkle your nose in a gesture of complete disgust getting him to laugh louder, even for you it's impressive to hear him laugh like that.

"I've seen your... your thing with Carol."

"My thing with Carol? I dun have a thing with Carol, what are ya talkin' about?"

You smile, but shake your head without saying anything, leaving Daryl more confused if possible. He appreciates Carol, she's becoming a good friend, he feels safe talking to her, plus she also seems to be more confident talking to him than others in the group. But that doesn't mean they have something, maybe they do, since when did he feel so lost in this? Thinking back your sister was always the one who took the reins, since they were eight years old, but he thought he had learned to read how it all worked.

Maybe he's wrong.

He watches you silently, distracted, watching the sky with a small smile, always holding on to your bow, something that always gives you stability. Your knife and gun are in your belt, Daryl doesn't remember a single time you've used that gun, but you always carry it with you as plan C. He notices you've changed your hair, now you wear it loose, holding just a few strands at the back of your head, some strands moving in the soft night breeze, messing it up, crossing in front of your eyes. Daryl licks his lips and reaches over to tuck that unruly lock behind your ear. You don't pull away, it's not the first such gesture Daryl has had with you, he's always been a person who avoids contact except with people he feels confident with, you learned that many years ago. You look at him and smile, thankful that he is there with you, that you have talked things out and now things are moving at a good pace again. The months you've spent away, going back and forth has given you the time to talk and catch up on your lives and everything in general. You know it's not the same, but you feel that the tension that was between you at the first meeting, as if you were strangers, is gone.

"Seriously, what do ya mean with Carol?"

"Never mind, come on, go get some sleep. You need it." You urge him, he doesn't seem to want to leave, but in the end he leaves you alone on the roof of the bus.

**********************

When the sun rises again, you all get going, grab the last of your leftovers and put Rick's plan into action. The kids with Carol, Lori, Beth and Hershel stay on one side of the fence to get the attention of the dead again, so you can get inside, you form a huddle, no one separates, backs together so you have all flanks covered. You stay a little behind, shoot some arrows, Daryl does the same when you have to reload, you cover his back, when he has to reload the crossbow. Without many, but between all of you you clean the courtyard fast, you are approaching the back where there is another group, but you can close the door and think about what to do with them later.

"Watch out!" You warn them as several Police Walkers appear, wearing special equipment.

Arrows are no good for them, they bounce off helmets and bulletproof vests, but Maggie manages to find a hole under one of the helmets and you all do the same.

It's an anxious few minutes, but you finally manage to clear the whole area you had planned according to Rick.

"We'll check that the block is secure and move on."

"If ya come with us ya'll have to use yer gun." Daryl tells you as you prepare to enter through the dark corridors.

"I can use my bow."

"It'll be darker, and there won't be as much room to reload, y'know that."

"Then I'll use my knife."

"That's more dangerous..."

"Daryl..."

"We could use more people, now is not the time to argue about that, we need to secure as much of the perimeter as possible." Interferes Rick in your discussion.

"I'll use the knife." You insist and join the group.

"God, yer stubborn."

"We already have something in common." You joke putting yourself next to Maggie who also goes with you.

You use the knife, a lot to tell the truth, you have been caught in a mousetrap, the dead have started to appear everywhere, cornering you, forcing you to back up and look for an alternative way out until Hershel has been bitten in the leg, of course you don't leave him there, as you make your way you reach another wide room and close the doors at full speed. Rick shouts your name. You run up to him, holding Hershel while the sheriff cuts off his leg to prevent the infection from spreading. It's a drastic measure, more so in that situation, but neither of you want to lose the man. You take off your jacket and quickly cover the leg to stop the bleeding, Hershel is knocked unconscious from the pain, but that's not the worst of it. When you look up you discover that there are several prisoners locked up there, looking at you with surprise and confusion.

"Open the door!" shouts Rick, you go ahead, arranging one of the beds in the cell before they enter with Hershel in your arms.

"Lay him down here!" you shout also kneeling down to uncover the leg and take care of it. "We need to stop the bleeding, find something to burn the wound... we need bandages, alcohol... "You start to list.

"We haven't found the infirmary, now we have another problem outside."

"I'll try to clean him up as best I can, but we need to find it now. Carol, Lori, help me." You ask them and the three of you stay in the cell taking care of Hershel.

Things with the prisoners remain tense, they are not willing to leave the place, but you don't trust them to stay with you either. Rick tries to make a deal with them, half the rations for you and half for them, they will have to find another block to live in and not try to go to yours at any time. But you are busy, you have gone with Carl in search of the infirmary, you can't wait for them to decide what to do with the rest of the ward, Hershel needs immediate help.

"Stay close to me." You say to Carl, tightening your bow in search of any dangerous movement or noise. Carl moves to your side, walking slowly right behind you.

All the corridors are dark, in this part of the corridor there are isolation cells, luckily the doors are locked, if there is any threat, you won't be able to get out on your own. You advance down the corridor finding a small library and at the end of the same corridor, the infirmary. You sigh in relief, patting Carl's head.

"Let's grab everything we can and head back to the cell."

"Okay." He nods and tries to go in, but you stop him.

"Wait, I'll go in first, in case there's a threat." You warn him by opening the door to the infirmary and give a few knocks.

You hear gasps inside, something stirs on the gurney and from behind a bulkhead a nurse emerges in a consumed state. You quickly load the bow and shoot the woman in the head, Carl stirs behind you and peers over the gurney, shooting the guy lying there.

"Carl!" you whisper his name. "I told you to wait!" You scold him between whispers so as not to draw any more attention to yourself.

"He's on the stretcher strapped down, he can't do anything." He defends himself and you growl with a frown.

"I don't care, you came here without telling your mother, if anything happens to you..."

"I know how to defend myself, I'm not a child." He snorts angrily.

"Stop arguing; let's get everything we can and go back to the cell with Hershel. Come on."

Between the two of you you fill the bag with everything you need, some suturing tools and get back as fast as you can to the cell where Lori and Carol are still keeping an eye on Hershel who is still unconscious.

"We're here." You say opening the bag again to take out some bandages and the disinfectant.

"Where did you guys get all that stuff?" Lori looks at you in surprise.

"We went to the infirmary." Carl smiles proudly.

"You went to the infirmary?" Lori asks and then looks at you. "You took him with you without telling me?"

"I'm sorry, Lori, I didn't..."

"Are you not aware of what just happened to Hershel! How dare you put my son in danger?"

"She didn't put me in danger!" interjects Carl looking at his mother angrily. "I decided to go!"

"Carl, listen to me..." Lori tries to reason with him.

"Leave me alone! I'm not a kid anymore!" He yells again and storms out of the cell.

"You go with him, I'll stay with Carol taking care of Hershel." You tell Lori, she seems hesitant, but gets up and leaves you two alone.

"Are you okay?" Carol asks you as you continue to examine the leg of the man who is still unconscious.

"Yes, she's right, I should have told Carl to go back to the cells, I shouldn't have let him come with me. It's normal for her to be angry." You shrug, carefully stitching up some parts of the stump to make it easier for it to heal.

"Kids aren't kids anymore, we can't leave them out, they like being part of this."

"I know, but they are not my children, I can't make certain decisions." Carol rubs your back trying to give you some encouragement, but you're not down, just worried about Hershel coming out of this.

****************

To be Continued...

Hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapters!

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69

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bloodiedbeloveds · 7 months

Note

Rotating BDTA-John in my head, and it's leading me to ask... why does he paint? And why paint, rather than write or sing or something else?

this is a really good question! it prompted a long conversation, but we didn't come to an agreement, so here are various perspectives.

"Having left the education system as a form of rebellion, it seemed obvious to him that he must pursue an artistic career of some nature. I think he is a painter because he has isolated himself from the world in trying to hide his inhuman nature, and it is easiest for him to pursue a career path where he is not required to make many public appearances and where he is expected to be somewhat skittish and eccentric. As a musical performer, he would have much more difficulty hiding his wings."

“honestly he probably could have been a writer and it wouldn’t have changed much, to tell you the truth the others are giving all these sensible watsonian explanations but i’m 95% sure it’s because we like describing fictional works of visual art”

“shut up it absolutely would have changed things, him being an artist adds to the epistolary form by contributing even more implied content— in the same way that there’s all these interpersonal interactions which must take place but aren’t written down, the descriptions without the presence of the actual images add to the sense that we as readers are not getting the full story. this is especially blatant in we never really learn, with that image description”

“my take is that he has to be some sort of creative for this story to work, because so much of it is about perception & a lot of his Issues are about how he makes so much goddamn money by drawing his deepest traumas and people eat it up. but actually we started thinking about this because of the trends in modern poetry publishing. so that could’ve worked. so i think it’s mostly for the epistolary stuff”

“he could not be a singer because part of his tragic backstory is having loved to sing as a child but having that joy taken from him because he didn’t sound human enough. the simple childhood pleasure of singing a duet with yourself strangled by shame and self-hatred and despair”

“there's also a historical explanation for this— BDTA (the first fic, not the series as a whole) was written as a reaction to some AUs we had with a friend & to the subsequent acrimonious parting we had with them. it's actually kind of spiteful; we wanted to write something better and more interesting than they ever could have come up with. we've moved beyond that in writing the rest of the series, but john was a painter in the AUs with which BDTA is in conversation, so he's a painter now."

"okay this has no precedent, i'm just making this up, but it's super convincing + sad + creation is about constant reinterpretation, so bear with me. john, as a child, was very sad and fucked up and coped with his alienation from his peers + from childhood as a whole via a) reading too much and b) drawing too much. so by the time he's a teenager he's already fallen into the pattern he exhibits as an adult of drawing tortured eldritch characters as a form of emotional self-harm, and when he drops out of college + loses access to his previous viable career path art is both his only other major skill + something he can't stop doing even if he tries."

"honestly, this is making me interested in a take on BDTAverse where john is a fiction writer and alex is a freelance artist. (hey, you know what would be super fucked up? if The Photo hadn't been released, and alex drew for magazines and people kept asking him to draw john's suicide attempt)"

"anyway! i think he paints as a compulsive thing, because he has so few emotional outlets, and doing art about it has been pretty much the only way for him to manage his feelings for a lot of his life. (he learned, as a child, that there are correct emotions to have and if you don't have the right ones people will be mad at you, so talking about it has been out of the picture for a long time.) and once he doesn't have other career plans, well, he's going to be painting fucked up stuff anyway, might as well sell it"

#does this help? probably not! but we had fun writing it #asks #bdtaverse

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bizkitsnuggets · 6 months

Text

MEMORIES AND SKETCHES.

masterlist.

The teacher talked endlessly as [Y/N] drew small doodles of whale-sharks in her sketchbook mindlessly. She also drew two cigarette sticks purely because she has yet to find out Jotaro's favorite brand.

The girl of course, without realizing, drew a bluefin tuna. This time she didn't draw it just by itself. She added a person, a fisherman. The bluefin tuna was freshly caught and it reminded her of the first time she went on a fishing trip with her father.

She was seven years old at the time and it was late spring. That's usually the time where bluefin tunas become available in the sea of Japan. [Y/N] was the one who asked (forced) her father to take her on a fishing trip and he obviously had no choice but to oblige. He thought it'd be a good idea to show her just how bizarre the ocean world is.

So, there she was, in a boat with her father's crewmate. As they're doing all the work, [Y/N] sits on top of a barrel all cutely. It wasn't until a few moments later that one of her father's crewmates alerted them about some sort of big fish. The girl's father then ushered her to come see.

"Alright kiddo, don't get any closer. Just watch and learn." Her father told her before reeling his fishing rod into the water. Not long after, the rod started to wiggle, startling [Y/N] and her father. "This is it!" he shouted, his crewmate then took some sort of dart with a rope and when the fish was near the boat, he threw it. [Y/N]'s eyes widened as her dad pulled the fish onto the boat.

The fish was humongous, it was almost larger than her dad. "This is the fish they usually use in sushi, kid. It's called bluefin tuna." He extended his hand so the girl could take a better look at it. [Y/N] didn't know if it was the sun that made the fish look so majestic. Never in a million year would she expect herself to call a fish "majestic" but here she is. It was practically shining.

The girl could only look at it with her mouth open and her eyes wide. Her words were taken away from her and her muscles seemed to stop moving. It was the first time she'd seen a fish that big in real life. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a bit taken aback.

But after that, she never saw a bluefin tuna again. She'd only see it already sliced up and served as food whenever she went out to restaurants.

Well... not until one day, in her second year of Highschool, she had gone to the beach to take pictures of the sunset. She stood by the shore, holding her digital camera up and took a picture of the golden hues.

It was mesmerizing to say the least. Suddenly, she heard a flapping noise beside her. Her head turned to the sound, and to her surprise it was a stranded bluefin tuna. It was flipping around, struggling to get back in the water.

The girl backed up out of surprise. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to help, but she wasn't authorized for that and there was a possibility that she could end up hurting the fish. So, [Y/N] did what any sane person would do, she called to the fishermen that were nearby.

It didn't take long before they started running towards her. However, [Y/N] didn't know why, but she felt as if the fish was glowing. She didn't know if it was the radiant hues from the sun, but it was weirdly alluring.

Slowly, she put her hand up as the sound of the shutter camera went off. Suddenly, she felt the urge to look to her side. Again, she didn't know why. And there he was. The infamous troublemaker, Kujo Jotaro. He was a few feet away from her, looking at the sunset.

He was far away enough for him to not notice her but close enough that she could still make out his facial expression. His brows were furrowed, his face as if made of stone. He looked normal, he looked like he would every day at school. That same scowl, that same lidded eyes. But despite that, he looked remorseful.

Oh, after missing fifty days of attendance he's finally back. I wonder what happened.

That day was a core memory for [Y/N]. She never cared for Jotaro, she never spared him a glance. But that evening made her change her opinion on him a bit. He reminded her of the bluefin tuna which was stranded. Jotaro looked lost, stranded. Just like the fish.

"Ms. [L/N]? Ms. [L/N]?" The teacher called out to her. The girl looked up from her notebook, "yes sir?"

"What's so interesting about your notebook, Ms [L/N]? Mind sharing it to the class?" He interrogated her in a sharp tone.

"No sir, sorry."

#jotaro x you #jjba jotaro #jojo jotaro #jjba part 4 #jotaro x reader

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sparklecryptid · 1 year

Note

You had that one ficlet where Ace was mistaken for the Accursed because of his purple magic.

Because I apparently like the angst too much, I wonder what would happen if Ardyn did not manage to intervene in time (maybe Ace didn't wear that warp beacon ring, or maybe it got confiscated).

Just, the reactions of Ace's friends and family when they learn he's dead (because I have not doubt Regis would have killed him), without necessarily knowing how and why he died. At least not until Ardyn learns what happened, and oh, he never hated himself his brother's descendants more.

warning: this is pure angst, mentioned character death, i have also taken liberties with this prompt because i can

It has been a long time since Ardyn allowed anyone else’s magic to twine together with his. It has been just as long since he considered someone family. Somnus had been the last whose magic had welcomed him, their mother had been the first and her magic felt like sunlit in spring and the first bloom of flowers.

Somnus had been different. His magic had been cold fire and hard steel and Ardyn had welcomed it all the same because Ardyn had loved his brother.

And now there is another he wouldn’t mind calling family. A man whose magic burns bright and quiet and who Ardyn wouldn’t mind calling family.

Ace is an oddity, but when the bond between is cemented in magic and trust and when Ardyn feels the weight of the storm and light that make up Ace’s magic he almost calls Ace ‘son’.

He stops himself.

There is no need to call Ace that, not when Ace already knows what he is to Ardyn.

Not when Ardyn already knows what he is to Ace.

Ace’s magic rests next Ardyn heart like a hearth. Warm and comforting and Ardyn takes for granted the idea that Ace will be there until old age takes his nephew up until the fire that burns in Ardyn’s chest is extinguished. Hard and fast like a blow to the head Ace’s magic disappears from the place it occupied in Ardyn’s chest.

Oh.

Ardyn’s bleeds black ichor from his eyes. Sclera back and iris’s burning.

His nephew is dead. That is the only explanation for the void in his chest.

His nephew is dead.

All it takes is a thought and a tug on the magic infused ring he had given Ace and Ardyn finds himself in an evidence room. There’s a Crownsguard cataloguing items and Ace’s ring is among them.

In the time it takes for the Guard to draw his weapon Ardyn already has his hand through his chest.

The hallways of the Citadel are not lined with the bodies of those who serve the king solely because it would warn Regis that Ardyn is coming.

The hallways of the Citadel are not lined with bodies despite the rage that burns in Ardyn’s chest that demands he reduce Insomnia to a ruin.

(“Why do you live there?” Ardyn had asked Ace.

Ace had blinked at him. Confusion shone in silver eyes for a moment before they brightened and he laughed.

“The people I love are there,” Ace had said, “Where else would I go?”

“You could stay with me.”

Ace snorted and raised off Ardyn’s unimpressed frown.

“Because that would be seen so well, the Chancellor of Niflheim deciding to charitably take in a poor Galahdian.”

Ardyn scowled. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. But I can’t leave Nyx and Selena and them alone. They’re family.”)

Ardyn has never wanted to go back and force Ace to come with him more than he does walking the corridors of the Citadel in a borrowed face.

(He had let his nephew have his freedom and look what it cost them.)

He makes it the doors of the throne room and does stop his stride even as the guards try to stop them.

They are laughably easy to kill.

Ardyn sheds the face he borrowed as he steps into the throne room. He takes a moment to wonder what it will look like as a ruin before his gaze focuses on Regis and the wrath in Ardyn’s blood burns to new heights.

Clarus is beside his King sword out and ready.

Ardyn dismisses him as unworthy of consideration.

“May I ask why the Chancellor of Niflheim has decided to sneak into the Citadel and murder my guards?” Regis’ voice is cold. All kingly pride and power and Ardyn wants to see him crumble.

“And I would like to know why my son is dead and why you have his belongings under guard.”

Recognition flashes in Regis eyes and Ardyn has to caution himself to wait. He needs to know exactly why Regis killed Ace. He needs information and the dead don’t speak.

“Perhaps we should talk about this elsewhere-“

“No-“ Ardyn can feel the mask of his humanity breaking. “-You can tell me why he is dead and I can decide whether or not you’re worthy of the life your bastard ancestor gave you.”

Regis is silent, machinations swirling through his mind and taking note of the things that haven’t added up.

“You said he was your son,” Regis begins, “What do you know of prophecy?”

“I know your son is to die.”

“Then you know what a father is willing to do to keep his son alive.”

The air is silent. Tension like a corded rope waiting to snap running through each of them.

Then Ardyn laughs. He tilts his head back and laughs without humour. It rings through the halls and leaves behind a sense of foreboding. Pieces of a puzzle click together in Ardyn’s mind and he despises it.

“Is that it then?” His voice is devoid of amusement when he lowers his head again and speaks, “Kill one son to save the other? What a kind father you are.”

“He is not my son-“

“Not your son? Surely you saw the resemblance. Surely you saw how he didn’t fight you even as you killed him. Do you not remember Galahd? Of the woman you courted there? He might have been mine by bond but he was yours by blood. Come now, reach into your precious Ring - I think you’ll find that he’s already there.”

Devastation creeps into Regis’ eyes even as that royal mask does not crack. The Ring shines and Regis draws a sword.

Ardyn grins. Humourless.

“Oh, but would that knowledge have even made a difference? To prize the life of one of your children over the other - it’s obvious you would have killed him even if you knew. You thought Ace was a threat, you thought he was me, so you had him killed.” Ardyn barks a laugh as a he takes a step closer to Regis. The mask of humanity Ardyn wears sliding off to reveal the monster hidden beneath. “Your similarities to my brother astound me. It’s not a surprise such horrible blood has brought about the end of your kingdom.”

”I will take whatever punishment you decide on,” Regis says, “But you will spare Lucis.”

“No,” Ardyn says as his armiger shines above Regis like a rain of stars, “I don’t think I will.”

#royal bastard au #HELLO WRITING THIS MADE ME SAD

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spnhunter4life · 5 months

Text

Bullets and Ballgowns Chapter 3

Series Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Once again, so sorry for the long wait. I knew it had been a while but didn't realize it was a little over a month since the last chapter now. I'm still excited about this story and have so many ideas for it, and I spend a lot of time planning it out. Unfortunately, I'm having a really hard time making myself sit down and actually write it though. I actually already have a small start on chapter 4, so I really hope it won't take so long before the next update, but I can't make any promises. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

(Whoops. Completely forgot about the header picture, so still don't have that. It'll probably show up eventually...)

The tea at the Winchester’s house came and went. It had been a pleasant experience. Mrs. Winchester was much as Anna had expected based on her mother’s stories. A bright, friendly woman who was easy to talk to. The three of them had a wonderful afternoon together talking about anything and everything. Anna even got a chance to have a short conversation with Sam when he came into the drawing room shortly before she and her mother left. Yes, it had been a very pleasant afternoon.

The carriage ride home had been less so.

“Anna, we need to talk, darling,” her mother said shortly after leaving.

“Ok,” Anna agreed warily. Those words were rarely followed by good news.

Her mother seemed to hesitate, thinking over her words. After a moment, she sighed. “You must know that I want the best for you, that all a mother ever wants for her daughter is for her to be happy. For her to have all the things she'll ever need in life, and even for her to have all the things she wants.” Anna nodded in understanding, but there was a small frown of confusion on her face.

“That's what I would wish for you,” her mother continued. “But you know as well as I that we don't always get what we want.” Anna could tell this last part was very meaningful to her mother, but she had no idea what her point was.

“I know that,” she said when her mother seemed to be waiting for a response.

“Then let me remind you that you are engaged.”

Anna stiffened slightly. She wasn't entirely sure what she was being accused of, but she did not like the turn this conversation had taken. “I haven't forgotten.” And then, after a brief pause, “I’m not sure what your point is, Mama.”

“There's no need to be so defensive, darling. I do not mean to reprimand you, only to give you a reminder and a warning. I know Mr. Sanders may not have been your first choice, but-”

“Not my first choice?” Anna asked incredulously. “He wasn't my choice at all! Papa planned it all out while I was visiting Aunt Jane in London! He may have sent a letter asking if I would agree to the arrangement, but it was more formality than anything. How could I possibly have said no when all the gentlemen were in agreement and not really concerned with my opinions?

“You must remember what it was like to be a young girl. To know how pointless and even foolish it is to hope to be one of the rare few who get to marry for love. But the problem with hope is that you can't just turn it off and stop feeling it, no matter how you might tell yourself to.

“So yes, it's what I expected for myself. And I know Mr. Sanders is a good option and I should count myself lucky to spend my life with a kind young gentleman like him. I know I could have been promised to someone truly awful. But fortunate as I may be as far as arranged marriages go, it is still not what I hoped for for myself! I do not love him! I suppose I shall have to learn to one day, but until then I cannot just turn off my disappointment. That does not mean I don't plan to marry him or that I've forgotten about our engagement.”

“I am glad to hear it, though I did not think otherwise.”

“But you said-”

“I said I wanted to remind you, yes. I also said I wanted to warn you. I did not mean I was reminding you in the sense that I worried you’d forgotten, but in the sense that I want you to be careful. I do remember what it’s like to be a girl wishing for love. I remember what it feels like to meet a gentleman you hope will be that man. And I know what it looks like too. That’s not how you look at Mr. Sanders. Nor would I expect you to,” she hurriedly added, seeing the protest in Anna’s eyes. “After all, you hardly know the man. Perhaps that should change? It is perfectly possible for you to fall in love with him if you only take the time to get to know him.”

“It will be a long while before we are married, Mama. I imagine we shall have ample opportunity to get to know each other. Besides, he hardly seems worried about spending his time with me. What am I to do when he offers me only the barest amount of attention he can without seeming impolite?”

“Do not take it personally, darling. He is young and unsure of how to handle the situation. It does not mean he does not wish to know you,” her mother assured her.

“I know that. I can see that in his own way he is trying. But you cannot expect me to get to know him when doing so is entirely dependent on him.”

Her mother sighed in exasperation. “Alright, fine. If you cannot spend more time with your fiance, then perhaps instead you should be spending less time with other gentlemen.”

“Mama!” Anna cried. “You expect me to spend the whole season sitting on the edge of ballrooms, turning away any gentleman who offers a dance? Because I do not love the fiance that I did not choose for myself?”

“It is not because you are not in love. You can hardly help that. I only hoped you could make it easier on yourself by getting to know him so you could be in love. And I do not expect you to turn away every gentleman. Just the one.”

“I still do not know what you are talking about,” Anna huffed out a little more angrily than she intended. She was certain she had done nothing to deserve this warning from her mother.

Her mother sighed again, this time in resignation. In a calm, placating tone she said, “I told you I know what it looks like when a young lady has more than a passing interest in a gentleman. I see it plain as day on your face when you speak to Mr. Winchester.”

Her confusion must have shown clearly on her face. She thought back to her short conversation with Sam that afternoon and wondered how her mother could have interpreted it as anything more than friendship.

If she’d only asked instead of making assumptions, we could have avoided this whole unpleasant ride, Anna thought bitterly to herself.

“Mama, you misunderstand my feelings. His feelings as well.” Her mother’s raised eyebrow was all the prompting she needed to continue. “Whatever it is you think you saw between us this afternoon, you are wrong. He is my friend. That is all.”

It was her mother’s turn to be confused, but it was quickly replaced with understanding. “I do not mean the younger Mr. Winchester,” she informed her.

Her meaning was clear enough. Anna fought against the panic that threatened to take control at those words and said calmly, “I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times, Mama. I barely know him.”

“Perhaps. But I know you. I saw how he caught your attention at the ball. I cannot fault you for that. After all, he is quite a handsome young man. I saw him catch the eye of many young ladies that night.” Anna knew how intentional this seemingly innocent statement was. Her mother was watching her carefully for a reaction. She was careful not to give her one. “Noticing a handsome face is not what concerns me,” she continued.

“I saw you when you danced that night, and again when you walked at the park two days ago. The way you look at him… well you don’t look at anyone else that way. Certainly not Mr. Sanders. It’s like you’re hanging on to his every word. Like you do not dare look away from him or he may disappear and you’ll find out his existence was just some great trick. That is what concerns me.”

“You need not be concerned, Mama.”

“Do not lie to me, Anna,” her mother commanded, more disappointed than angry.

“I am not lying! Whatever it is you think you saw, he is my friend. Just as his brother is.”

“Not just as his brother is,” her mother disagreed.

“Yes! He knows I am engaged and has asked specifically if I might be his friend. So you see, there is nothing to worry about. I will not be creating a scandal by encouraging Mr. Winchester’s attentions when I am already engaged.”

“My dear, I never thought such a thing. I am not worried about a scandal, I am worried for your heart. I do not want it to break.” Anna started to protest, but her mother was quick to cut her off. “Deny it as much as you wish, but I know what I saw. I am only suggesting that perhaps you should end your friendship now, before you fall too much in love and end up getting hurt.”

~~~~~

It was three weeks later and Anna was walking by herself, replaying this conversation. In those three weeks, this year’s social season had meant frequent balls and teas and picnics. Keeping to his promise of being friends, Mr. Winchester had sought out her company at each and every function. She told herself it was harmless, that there had been no flirting of any kind from him and so as long as she kept herself in check – which she absolutely would – there was no reason to worry.

And she still firmly believed that. But she couldn’t deny that the more she got to know him, the more strongly she felt for him. It was getting harder and harder to imagine a life where she was only allowed to be his friend, without ever having the chance of even a hope for more.

Maybe it was time to bring this friendship of theirs to an end. It would be humiliating, of course, the conversation she would have to have with him to explain things. But in order to protect her own heart, she thought it might be necessary.

She was so lost in these thoughts that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. She had walked further than normal, going well past the boundary of her family’s land and heading into what was miles and miles of nothing but grass and hills and woods.

She sighed at the realization of how far she’d gone and had just started to turn around when something in her peripheral vision made her stop. She looked up and gasped in fear. A low, warning growl accompanied a single step forward by the large wolf. It was a dark gray color, with matted fur and a torn ear. Its teeth were bared as it stared Anna down from a dozen yards away.

Heart racing and breath catching in her throat, Anna kept one eye on the wolf as she started scanning the rock and branch strewn ground for something she could use to defend herself. Most of the rocks were too big for her to lift, most of the broken off branches too small and weak to be a defense, more large sticks than true branches.

Anna knew better than to turn her back on a predator. She kept one eye on the animal as she slowly took a step back, still searching the ground. The wolf didn’t appear to like her moving and he let out another threatening growl. Anna froze. She didn’t want to provoke him into attacking, but she also couldn’t sit there defenseless and just wait for it to happen. She took another cautious step backwards. And another. The wolf continued his growling, but didn’t approach. Everything went wrong on her fourth step back.

Two large rocks that she hadn’t seen sat side by side, pressed against each other. Her foot knocked against them, right at the point where they met. She wobbled, fighting desperately to keep her balance. In the end, gravity won out and she fell down. Hard. The force of her fall wedged her foot between those two rocks and she knew it wasn’t coming back out easily. Her quick movement and obvious vulnerability provoked the wolf into a charge. A noticeable limp slowed him, but Anna still only had seconds.

She yanked uselessly at her foot, hoping she could somehow manage to pull it free as she looked for anything nearby that she could so much as lift. There was a sturdy looking stick to her left, not as sturdy as she would have liked, but she had no other option. She picked it up just as a great boom shattered the air. Anna ducked reflexively before realizing how incredibly stupid that was. She hefted her stick, ready to swing, only to see the wolf crumpled and unmoving about five feet in front of her.

“Are you all right?” A voice asked from her right. Anna turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a man, gun in hand, running towards her. Of course if she’d been able to think clearly she would have recognized the voice immediately. It wasn’t until the man was kneeling in front of her, repeating his question, that the shock wore off and she took in the very concerned face of Dean Winchester.

“I’m all right,” she answered a little dazedly. “Thanks to you, I suppose,” she added, noting the gun sitting on the ground beside them and putting two and two together.

His head bowed down and a breath escaped his lips, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Thank God,” she heard him say quietly to himself. When he looked up again and his eyes met hers, she could see the relief written across his face. “Good,” he said. “Then let’s get you home.”

Under normal circumstances she would have turned down the offer. Innocent as it may be, if they were to be seen walking alone together, assumptions would be made and rumors spread. This was not a normal circumstance though – something which could be explained on the off chance they ran into anyone – and she found herself incredibly grateful to have company. The safe path she traveled frequently no longer felt safe, and she didn’t want to make the journey alone.

“Yes, please,” she agreed easily. Mr. Winchester chuckled as he stood and offered his hand. Anna started to reach for it, but then remembered her foot.

“I’m afraid my foot is rather badly stuck,” she informed him.

“Oh! Well I- I mean can you-” Mr. Winchester fumbled with his words for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Do you need me to help, or can you get it on your own?” He finally managed to say. Anna noticed the slightest red tint to his cheeks and couldn’t help but think how cute it was to see the normally confident man so ruffled.

“I believe I may need some help,” she admitted. It was possible she could do it on her own, but it would be difficult. Better to save time and just ask for assistance now.

“Alright,” he agreed, voice sounding a little rough. As he once again knelt down beside her, Anna realized why Mr. Winchester had briefly struggled for words. In order to help her, he would have to touch her. She found herself fighting down her own blush at the thought.

This is perfectly acceptable, she told herself. Not that anyone was likely to be walking by, but even if they did, they could find nothing wrong with this interaction. It was only a gentleman helping a lady in distress. Something he seems to be particularly good at, she thought wryly.

All humor faded and her breath caught in her throat as he reached for her. He carefully lifted the hem of her skirt, just enough to see her foot and the rocks holding it captive. He studied the scene for a moment and then gently grabbed the heel of her foot, cautiously wiggling it first side to side and then up and down to see how tightly it was stuck. He let her foot go and looked contemplatively at the rocks. “I should be able to move this rock enough for you to pull your foot out.”

Anna looked at the rock doubtfully. It was large enough to be heavy even for a man of Mr. Winchester’s size and could be partially buried snugly in the earth. It would not move easily. “Are you sure?” she asked as he grabbed hold of it with both hands.

“The alternative is to yank on your foot until it comes loose, something I fear will cause you a great deal of pain. I’ll be able to move it,” he told her confidently when he saw her doubt. “Ready?”

Anna nodded. She watched his fingers turn white against the rock as he tried to pull it toward himself. No doubt, the muscles in his arms were tensed and visibly straining, but she couldn’t tell with his suit coat covering the evidence. It took only a couple of seconds before she felt the pressure against her ankle lessen. She was quick to lift her foot, not wasting any precious seconds. It was still a tight fit, and the rough surfaces of the rocks pressed her boot into her skin, bruising instead of scraping the skin raw. It didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t long before she was free.

Mr. Winchester let go of the rock, face red from exertion. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It hurts a little,” she admitted, downplaying the pain. It hurt more than a little, but she wasn’t about to complain. “But I believe I can walk.”

His lips quirked into a smile and, as it always did when he smiled at her, Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said as he stood up. “But that will not be necessary. Kaz is quite capable of carrying you.”

Anna frowned. Who was Kaz? She hadn’t even realized anyone else was here and she certainly didn’t need to be carried. She took the hand he offered to help her up, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her right foot. She quickly adjusted, resting her weight on her left foot. “Kaz?”

“My horse,” he explained. And then, in a teasing tone, “How else do you think I got here?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, I suppose.” She tried not to be embarrassed by her oversight. After all, she had a perfectly good reason. She looked over his shoulder, in the direction he had come running from and noticed the large, jet black mare standing there grazing as she patiently waited for her rider to return. “Wow,” she breathed out. “She’s beautiful.” Mr. Winchester beamed with pride.

“She is,” he agreed. He started in her direction and Anna followed, wincing when she stepped on her bad foot. Mr. Winchester noticed of course, and instructed her to stay put. He grabbed his discarded gun off the ground and put it back into the holster tied to the saddle before grabbing the reins and leading the horse over.

“I know she’s big, but she’s gentle as they come,” he promised. Anna hadn’t been worried. She loved horses, almost as much as she loved music. She was awestruck at the sight of the powerful creature, and giddy at the idea of riding her. Mr. Winchester settled his hands on her waist and, after asking her if she was ready, lifted her up onto his horse’s back. Anna steadied herself in the saddle and then reached out to pet Kaz’s soft, warm neck. Reins in hand, Mr. Winchester encouraged the horse into a walk and started off in the direction of Anna’s house.

“Why do you suppose he was all the way out here?” Anna wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen a wolf this close to home. I’ve never even heard of anyone seeing one around here.”

“He was desperate,” Mr. Winchester answered. “Did you see how badly he was limping? He was likely very hungry and not strong enough to catch anything, especially on his own, so he was hoping to find an easy kill like a chicken or a sheep.”

Anna hummed, considering this explanation. It certainly made sense. “And what about you?” she asked. “What are you doing all the way out here?” At a guess, this particular stretch of road was over five miles from his house. It was a long way to go just for a ride.

“I was just coming out for a hunt,” he explained. Of course, Anna thought. She should have realized that. In the time she had known him, she had learned that Mr. Winchester was an avid hunter. According to him, there was little he enjoyed more. “Good thing too, or I wouldn’t have been over this way. I certainly wouldn’t have had a gun.”

“Yes, I am grateful you were there. I don’t know that the stick I found would have been enough to deter him, no matter how hard I hit him with it. At the very least I would have been quite hurt, but I do believe it is safe to say that you saved my life. Thank you.”

“You do not owe me your thanks,” he was quick to say. “I am very glad I was here. I cannot even stand to think about what would have happened otherwise.” Though he tried to hide it, Anna caught the emotion in his voice. He took a breath before changing the subject. “And you? What on earth were you doing all the way out here by yourself?”

“Just walking.”

“Do you usually walk so far from home?”

“No. I was a little caught up in my thoughts today,” she admitted shyly. “I didn’t realize how far I’d gone. I was just about to turn around when I saw the wolf.”

“What were you thinking about so intently?” Mr. Winchester asked. “It must have been terribly interesting to make you so unaware of your surroundings.”

Anna’s breath hitched a little. Not ten minutes ago she had come to the decision she needed to say goodbye to Mr. Winchester. Now here he was, and he wanted to know what she was thinking. If there was ever an opening, this was certainly it. But she found she couldn’t do it. Maybe it was because he had just saved her life and that was a truly poor way to repay him. That seemed a good enough explanation for her hesitation. But if she was honest with herself, Anna knew that the idea of explaining her feelings and asking him to leave her alone was one thing. The reality was a whole other beast, one she could not face. As much as she knew she should, she couldn’t bear the idea of losing his friendship.

“Nothing worth talking about, really,” she answered. The brief glance he threw her way told her all she needed to know. He didn’t buy it. He wasn’t about to push though. “Tell me about Kaz,” she said instead.

Mr. Winchester seemed pleased with her change in topic. “She’s the best horse you’ll find anywhere,” he said affectionately as he patted her on the neck. “She’s strong and smart and quick and she’ll do anything you ask of her.”

“She might be the best looking horse I’ve seen,” Anna offered. She didn’t say it for Mr. Winchester’s benefit, she meant it. There wasn’t a drop of white to be found on the gorgeous mare. Her mane and tail were long and full and soft looking. She was tall and broad and muscular. Even the most amateur horseman could see with one look what a wellbuilt horse she was. “How long have you had her?”

“Raised her myself,” he answered proudly. “She was born out of one of my father’s old mares when I was sixteen. I knew I had to have her. I begged my father for weeks and finally he told me if I put in the effort, if I took care of her and broke her when she was old enough, then she was mine. So I did.” He sounded happy in the way he only did when talking about the things he truly loved.

“Have you ever had a real bond with a horse?” He asked. “Not just a horse that you liked better than all the others, but a real bond? The kind of bond where, when you ride them, it’s like everything is right in the world. Where you know each other so well that it sometimes feels like you can actually read each other’s minds. Where you trust them completely.”

“No,” I answered truthfully, “but it sounds wonderful. She sounds wonderful.”

He looked at the horse with a fond smile. “She’s a one in a million kind of horse.”

Perfect for a one in a million kind of man, she thought.

~~~~~

Her mother was in a tizzy by the time they reached the house, worried by how long Anna had been gone. Seeing her return home with a gentleman – and particularly this gentleman – unchaperoned, only made matters worse. Anna saw the barely contained fury on her face. Until she saw the way Anna favored her ankle after Mr. Winchester helped her off of his horse. Anna hurried to explain what happened as Mr. Winchester helped her to the door. Then the calm, well-mannered lady Anna was used to disappeared as her mother swung between worrying excessively over the whole situation – and Anna’s ankle especially – and profusely thanking Mr. Winchester, all but demanding that he stay for lunch.

Knowing there is only so much one can do in the face of a grateful mother insistent on showing her gratitude, he agreed easily. When Anna protested that surely he wished to go on the hunt he had intended, or possibly to head home, he waved her off, assuring her he was happy to stay. She only hoped he didn’t regret that decision if her mother’s newfound craziness decided to stick around.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to acknowledge the time jump. Initially I planned on this chapter being about the tea at the Winchester's, but then I realized a) I had no idea what in the world to have them talk about and b) too many chapters in a row of just talking gets boring. So I skipped ahead a little bit to add something a little more exciting. Also, let's talk about Kaz. I got the idea for this from another story, Dust by @ravengirl94. Was this person the first to come up with the idea of a black horse named Kaz? No idea. But that's where I heard it, so credit where credit's due. And it's a great series, so if you haven't read it before, check it out!

Tags:

@123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

#bullets and ballgowns #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #non hunting au #regency era

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thepayloadisgay · 1 year

Text

"Let's see that smile."

"Cheer up, it might not happen."

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed again?"

Hanzo could list endless ways people loved to comment on his demeanor. On how he didn't smile enough for them. What he should do to simply cheer the fuck up.

At first, he'd bristled. Defensive and a snap, words as sharp as his arrows, hitting bullseye. But he soon learned to tune them out. Words washing over him with a stoic glance, nod in reply. Or sometimes he just fucking ignored them all.

Genji was the one who smiled. Laughed for them both, beaming at a room full of people be knew, didn't, making it bright, and with his laughter, beautiful.

Sometimes he'd observed his brother in quiet, attempting a mimicry of his smile, tracking the movements of gestures, remembering the correct response to a question.

People liked Genji. They were at ease with him, even those who had yet to see him unmask, bursting with a thousand questions about his hybrid body. People liked being near him, requesting his company again and again.

People didn't like Hanzo. And sometimes he just wanted to know why.

The answers came to him without an ask. It seemed there were many in Overwatch who had no qualms about telling him why.

He'd heard enough by the second month and he no longer cared to know why.

Solitude, as always, was his friend. Comfort at the beginning, and the only thing he'll have in the end. So he'd long made acquaintance with her, learning the rhythms of her silence, her colours of serenity, and at times, suffocation.

What she felt like in the morning, dewy and quivering at that hour between sleep, between wake.

At afternoon, lazy and helping him draw the lines of a new bow in wood, a hand to guide.

And then, evening. Rooftop scattered in broken arrows to fix. Rattling with empty liquor bottles. A shred of cloth. Here, she was cool and the colour blue. A blanket for the sounds below where others laughed, drank, understood together.

Hanzo tried to understand together, more. Once he'd learned the names of the others, and they his. Finally pushing past Shimada to Hanzo (Genji had always been Genji).

So here he was. Together in the quiet of evening, a sofa to himself as he drank. Legs crossed elegant, watching Pharah tell some tall tale or other. Angela rolling her eyes. Ana correcting her, quietly saying something in Arabic that made Pharah frown. Morrison was hooked on her every word. Hana tapping on her phone, nodding like she was listening.

And then, Niran.

There was something about him that Hanzo didn't understand. At least that was why he kept looking, right? An observation in social etiquette and simply, curiosity.

Hanzo thought he and Genji would hit it off. Two relaxed souls who love people, with smiles as big as their bleeding fucking hearts. Maybe they had, and he hadn't been around enough to see, to care.

But Niran had often taken the seat next to him at meals, travelling, asking him questions about base, their mission, Overwatch that anyone would know. But it seemed he wanted Hanzo's answer, opinion.

No-one else did, and he didn't understand why Niran did.

When passing him in the corridors, Niran's look always lingered. Warm, curious, welcoming, something else.

"May I?" Then Niran is here, taking a seat and drink without answer.

Hanzo tries to act surprised at his intrusion, unwilling to admit he'd traced his movements close enough to count his steps from the others to here.

He walks smooth, heels barely touching the ground. A strange grace and glide that reminded Hanzo of a dancer.

Maybe that was just the alcohol.

"Seems like you already are." Hanzo says, looking forward, imagining Niran's smile even though it's right here.

"I must say, this sofa is far more comfortable than the others." Niran drinks, crossing his legs in echo. But turned to Hanzo, not away. "I can see why you're over here." Tilts his drink. "Or feel." There's a laugh as he sinks back into the cushion, white hair like wings, spreading behind his head, crowning shoulders, Hanzo's arm.

What does it feel like?

Hanzo stares ahead, imagining it slip through his fingers, even though it's right here.

There's minutes that pass where they say nothing, and just drink. Niran's bare foot idly bouncing up, down. He points it in a stretch now and then, close enough to touch.

Hanzo snatches an impulse to touch when he sees the low light simmer over a toe ring.

Ridiculous.

"This is nice." Niran's voice is close. It's quiet.

"You couldn't afford it."

He feels more than sees Niran smile. And how it blooms to a laugh.

"I wasn't talking about the drink."

No one can hear them, but it's still a voice only Hanzo could ever hear.

Hanzo turns at last, and everything he was imagining scatters, petals plucked to nothing, because it is compared to what's right here.

He doesn't know why, but it's then when Hanzo realizes Niran has never asked him to smile.

"It is...nice." His last word is small. Lost, when he feels Niran's knee touch his own. When his hair mimics the curves of the dragon on his arm.

And then, he knows what it feels like to touch, falling between his fingers.

#niran pruksamanee #hanzo shimada #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch #lifeweaver #hanzo x niran #hanzo x lifeweaver #overwatch niran #lifeweaver x hanzo #niran x hanzo #and also a lot of hanzo introspective bullshit #he's so much easier to write for me than lifeweaver but aughhh #niran ilusm #hanzo being hanzo #niran just a gem #drabble #someone please help hanzo hes a fucken mess

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rev3rb · 8 months

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Hey again. Just read the latest chapter, and umm idk how to feel. It was nice to get some more insight into Ferid and see how even as a teen he was always just ~ like that™️. But, I’m a bit taken aback by the implication that Crowley might be Ferid’s reincarnated brother?? Bc to me it read like that was either the 440th person he killed or 440th time he killed his big bro. And knowing Ferid, 440 does not seem like a high enough body count. But idk maybe the brother flashback isn’t related to Crowley at all and is just used to establish a pattern? Regardless, rip to Crowley, Chess, and Horn.

Plot relevant things aside young prince Ferid with his classic ponytail bow was adorable, still unhinged, but also pretty adorable.

I get that. Personally I'm kinda angry about it.

You're right in that it was nice to get some insight into Ferid, but I don't know if that was worth the trade off of what we got. What the HELL do you mean that named characters that were prominent at one point (even if it wasn't THAT prominent) got killed OFF SCREEN with no indication that this was the case up until now. I would probably be fine about it if we'd had ANY foreshadowing about it, but no. Instead they disappeared without explanation and then are just declared dead. Their disappearance didn't even ring as that weird since Ferid, and therefore Crowley since he's following him around, are up to things that aren't popular with the majority of the vampire population. I remember mentioning that they hadn't shown up in a long time semi recently in one of these, but the reason I hadn't harped on it as much as someone like Narumi is bc they disappeared at a natural point instead of in the middle of the arc. I'm getting side tracked though. Ultimately, this felt INCREDIBLY dumb and a bit like Kagami just wanted to kill them off since he had no further purpose for them. If you're going to do that, at least HINT that the fact that they haven't shown up in a bit is weird. I just. oooough. I'm talking in circles. But yeah. Imagine if this happened to Rene and Lacus too :) (likely won't since Lacus has that whole thing with Yoichi).

I also find it annoying that Crowley was killed with so little fanfare. I get that it's because of the whole vampires have no feelings thing, but still. It's just insane to kill a character who has been around for so much of the story like that. It really makes Crowley come off as a plot device for Ferid's story rather than anything of real importance outside of that. Without the added context from the Mikaela light novel spin off (which reminder, still hasn't been finished) he feels like there's just so little going on with him other than his relationship with Ferid. Don't get me wrong. I think Crowley is a fun character, which is why I think this is just doing him so dirty. Was I asking for some drawn out fight between him and Ferid before he was killed? No, not really. I just find the situation of Ferid killing him off at all kinda dumb. idk. I have no suggestions about what I'd like to see. It just... wasn't that. Maybe I'll feel better about it later if his death is revealed to be more plot relevant.

ANYWAYS! I better move on before I'm here all night. ...Okay but last thing. YET A FUCKING GAIN we're jumping from one subject to another JUST to draw out some reveals and give us more questions. I'm going to pull my hair out lol. I really shouldn't be surprised that the second Shinoa starts diving into The First's memories we flip to this scene. I have a bit of a feeling that it's because she's going to learn what the audience already knows, but I just don't get why that wasn't lumped into the previous chapter. Would have felt much better if we'd just started this chapter with Ferid and Crowley. I guess page count could have factored in but... just feels like maybe you could have cut down some of the last chapter to make space for this. Ah... but maybe I'm just being a hater at this point. Anywho...

I too was wondering if that was the implication, but yeah, the number tripped me up. That DOES seem too frequent to be his brother, so I'm also wondering if that's the number of people he's killed. Yes, it seems a little low, but maybe that's people he's killed with a specific purpose in mind. Ones that tie into that rebirth mentality he has going on here. I'm sure we'll find out eventually. It does seem like we need more context to figure out what it is exactly Ferid is doing. Maybe he IS just killing people because he feels like it's time for them to go, but you'd think that he wouldn't bother to count them. Who knows.

Okay, maybe I'm just imagining it but I SWEAR we'd seen a younger Ferid design before at SOME point, but for the life of me, I can't remember where. Something about him talking about how he was a Mikaela candidate too or something like that? I bring it up to say that I swear we've seen a Ferid design somewhat similar to this before, but regardless, you're right. It is nice to see that design and that he really doesn't seem to have changed much over the years. Vampirisim apparently didn't change him.

#Owari no Seraph #OnS 134 spoilers #Ons 134 #Crowley Eusford #Ferid Bathory #Anonysis asks #My posts #Owari no Seraph spoilers

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