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alteon77 · 9 months

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The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications: Chapter 7

It's a tale as old as time.

Two idiots fall in love. Two idiots fall out of love.

Neither one of them is expecting a baby to come along and derail their unhappily ever after.

Chapter One here, AO3 here, Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Morpheus pretends to be human in the doctor's office. He's... um, surprisingly not great at it.

By the time Morpheus finally locates her, he's nearly incandescent with rage.

It is fair, he thinks, to be so angry, so wholly upset with her for this act of foolishness and for the panic that she's caused both him and her brother. It had been only forty minutes prior that Viego had summoned him, that the maker had called Morpheus to him and then belligerently accused him of stealing May to hide her away in the Dreaming. And while Morpheus had been furious at Viego for this, he'd been more fearful than anything else. The idea of May going outside of the very wards keeping her safe, the idea of her leaving that protection with no magic or defensive capabilities to speak of, had brought forth an overwhelming swell of terror that rose sickeningly up within him in a matter of mere seconds.

The relief he'd felt at finding her had given him only a moment of solace, a brief flicker of the sensation before the mess of emotional turmoil roiling in his mind had swiftly transformed into indignation. How. Dare. She. How dare she engage in such a foolish stunt. How dare she endanger herself and their child by way of such astounding recklessness. Makers are hunted regularly and mercilessly by witches and gods and all manner of supernatural creatures, and any who had happened upon her in her current weakened state would have surely made short work of capturing her.

In the underground area where he'd finally located her, Morpheus stalks to her vehicle as she gets out of it, her face wan and weary in fatigue, all of her as worn out as she herself has been these days past.

"No… I was driving. I don't answer when I'm driving. You know that….. No…. I just had some stuff to take care of…. I'm keeping a low profile. No…. Stop it. I wasn't followed…. Yes…. " she says into the phone held against her ear. "You did what? Why… Why would you do that?" She pauses, and he notices that there's a bottle of water in her hand that she takes a seemingly reluctant drink of, grimacing in disgust at the taste. "No, Viego. I don't know how to get a hold of him right this moment. He doesn't exactly carry a phone or-"

"There is no need to seek me out," he cuts in roughly. "I am here."

His sudden appearance startles her, and she recoils a little at the sight of him, the hand holding her water coming up to rest over her heart as if to soothe the too-rapid beat of that organ.

"Viego," she relays over the phone, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm going to have to call you back. Morpheus is… Yeah…. Don't worry about summoning him again. No, I'm looking at him right now."

He glowers her way, his hands clenched tight at his side as he works to calm himself. "You might inform him that I will be personally bringing you home this-"

"We'll be back in a bit. No…. I've got errands to run. Don't worry about it. Bye." She presses a button on her device and slides it into the small bag hanging from her shoulder, clearly careful in her attempt at ignoring him as he fumes before her.

"Not in a bit, as you say. We will be leaving immediately for-"

"Can't. Won't. Not gonna happen."

He seethes, his anger ratcheting up at her apparent nonchalance over the gravity of her folly. "Are you aware of the danger inherent in being outside of the warding protecting you?"

"Look, I left Viego a voicemail letting him know about all this. I'm sorry if he roped you into something that you shouldn't have even had to stress about."

"You cannot be oblivious enough to think that is why I am infuriated," he growls. "Both Viego and myself have been scouring this city for the better part of an hour, terrified you had been taken by some enemy that meant you harm. And your response to worrying us so dramatically is that you had errands you need attend? There is no excuse for removing yourself from the warding, especially in light of the fact that it is the only thing keeping you safe in your condition."

With great effort, he attempts to settle his raging temper, aware as he is that it would do this world no favors were he to lose control of his powers while in it.

"Worrying you so dramatically? I mean, dramatically is definitely a word I'd use with how you're acting," May snarks before taking another sip of her water.

"And what precisely is the meaning of that?"

"Just that this is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman. I'll go where I want and do what I want, and you are both welcome to take that suffocating overprotectiveness that you're holding over my face like a pillow and shove it up your-"

"Do not," he snaps. "Now, gather your things. I am returning you to your brother."

"I am not a package that you can just hand off back and forth. And I am absolutely not going anywhere with you until I'm done. I have something I have to take care of in about-" She checks her watch. "Thirty minutes. There's a diner near here if you want to get coffee while you wait for me to finish, but I am not leaving."

He clenches his jaw hard enough that he would break teeth were he human. "What aim could be so important that you would foolishly risk being captured to accomplish it?"

"It's none of your-"

"If you finish that sentence with the word business, I will grab hold of you this moment and shift you. I've no patience for your recalcitrance this day."

May scoffs derisively. "You not having patience? Wooow. Color me shocked."

"Tell me what you deemed so necessary that it justified this… imprudence," he hisses, ignoring her sarcastic remark as to his composure.

Oh, no no no no no. Don't throw up. Do not throw up. You've got to keep your water down for just another hour. You can do it, but not… not if you're going to keep fighting. So fuckin' de-escalate this mess and stop being stubborn. It's for the baby. You can absolutely swallow your pride for the baby's sake, damn it.

He frowns at her, thoroughly confused at these words of hers flitting across his awareness. She is not speaking them aloud, and yet he hears them clearly in his mind, a rather puzzling occurrence given that he's never really been able to read her thoughts, never been able to peek past her mental shields and figure out what's going on in her head. He wonders if the dwindling disappearance of her magic is the cause of this, the usual walls around her mind possibly fading as her powers are and allowing him the capability to read her as easily as she might peruse a book.

The color drains from her complexion as what he assumes is nausea overcomes her, and she draws in a few deep breaths, seemingly steadying herself before she gestures vaguely towards a concrete wall of this strange, cavernous area they're both in, the one that smells of fossil fuels and is full of nothing but stationary vehicles. He thinks it's known as a parking garage, but he's never truly been in one before, so he is unsure as to whether or not that is precisely what this darkened, poorly lit monstrosity is. "I'm… going there. Okay? I'm… I'm visiting a doctor."

His eyes narrow as he glances first where she has indicated and then back at her. "That is naught but a wall."

She rolls her eyes at him as if what he's said is absurdly exasperating to her. "There's a building on the other side of the street from here with a doctor in it. I'm going there."

"You have found a suitable healer?"

She fidgets in front of him, playing with the label on the bottle still in her hand. "No. I'm… I'm going to a regular human doctor."

He's taken aback by this, wholly surprised as he moves closer to her. "A human doctor?"

Her fidgeting increases, the movements getting more pronounced. "Yeah… because I'm… well, pregnant. And Tammy was right."

"Tammy? Who is Tammy? And what use will a mortal physician be in your case? Need I remind you that you are no human."

She rolls her eyes again and scoffs as if he's the one who's said something nonsensical. "Whaaaat? Are you sure? Well damn, I guess that totally explains the being alive for thousands of years and not aging thing. I just thought it was my kick ass moisturizer keeping me all young looking."

"May-"

Her arms cross over her chest, and it makes her appear… smaller somehow, fragile. "A human doctor is kind of all there is," she admits with a heavy sigh, a thread of defeat woven into her confession.

His mouth turns down at her words, his brows knitting together as he considers this, grasping for some sort of understanding. "I fail to see-"

"I'm sure you do, but… please don't argue with me on this. Whatever opinions you might have about me getting checked out by this guy today, the fact remains that he's got a hell of a lot more answers than I do right now, and I… I need answers."

She looks away when she says this, avoiding his gaze as a barely there blush lights up what he can see of her face in its sideways profile. An unexpected shame curls in his stomach as he considers the situation before him. She's worried, obviously so, and yet she feels compelled to plead with him on this matter, to ask that he leave her be as she attempts to seek help for herself. The fact that part of this is his doing, that her current suffering is a direct result of the child he'd put inside of her, makes him feel… lowly, as if he should hate himself for adding to the burden of what she carries now when he knows he should be doing what he can to lighten it.

"Very well. If it will… assist you, then I've nothing to say except that I… should like to accompany you."

Shock takes over her expression as she at last turns back to him. "Wait. What?"

"I said that I should like to accompany you. If you will permit me, of course."

Her eyes narrow at him, scrutinizing his face as if searching for any sign that he is lying. "Are you… sure?"

No, he is assuredly not certain of this course, but telling her so would do neither of them any favors. "I would scarcely have offered were I not."

"But… why?" She seems perplexed that he should wish to be with her while doing this, uncomprehending of the possibility that he might desire to help her.

"I dislike the idea of you being unattended while you are so…" Weakened, he wants to say, powerless and fragile and ill. He does not speak those things, however, since he feels that to call her any of them might reignite the ever-present tension inherent in their new dynamic. "Indisposed."

She blows out a breath that's half laugh, half frustration. "I'm not a Victorian debutante. It's perfectly fine for me to be alone."

Alone. That word. It coils in his belly like a poisonous snake, sinking its venomous fangs into the vulnerable flesh of his insides. She had offered to raise their child alone. By herself. Without him even having knowledge of its existence. Not for the first time, he wishes he could reach back through the millennia and pluck that infernal grimoire from the very fabric of the universe, undoing all of its horrid history so that May would never have thought to lie to him about it. A child would have been a happy occurrence for them if not for the dark, thunderous cloud of her betrayal hanging over their tattered relationship.

Still, there is no place for his anger, for his sorrow in the reality of his… of May seeking medical attention for herself. "Nonetheless, I would prefer to escort you."

May studies him warily, clearly unsure of this seeming capitulation from him. "You… can tag along if you want. I mean… she's your kid too, so if you want to be there, I won't stop you."

"She?"

Her apprehension melts away in an instant, a loving smile blossoming on her face as one of her hands settles atop where their child grows, and the sight of this makes his heartbeat speed up, makes that manifested organ thud rapidly in his chest. Throughout his many eons of existence, she is the only one who has ever been able to affect it so, the only one who's ever caused such… mortal reactions within the boundaries of this flesh form of his.

"Yeah," she answers quietly, a joy in her tone that reminds him of the softest parts of the universe. The silken smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips. The hazy twinkle of a galaxy above him. The muted shine of a sun in the wake of spring storms. The feel of a new babe in his arms, tender and trusting. "She. I've… got a feeling it's a girl."

A daughter. A little girl with May's lovely eyes and her beautiful smile. The dream of it is enchanting, captivating enough that he has to forcibly pull himself from its hold, but the want it causes within him lingers on the edges of his thoughts. If things weren't so strained between them, then he would tell her how greatly he wishes for such a thing, how now that the vision of it is in his mind, he can scarcely see their infant as anything except a daughter. But… he cannot give voice to these sentiments, not with his feelings so uncharacteristically flayed and raw, and that is assuredly what they are at this moment. "You cannot know the child's… gender at this stage."

May sighs and brushes past him, walking towards a door on their right marked Stairwell B. It is instinct for him to match his pace to hers, to keep by her side as she wearily begins the arduous trip up and out of the garage. She's been faint for weeks, and he's very aware that her collapses seem to have no set pattern, no real warning before they occur. It puts him on alert for the risk of another, especially given the fearsome nature of these stairs were she to fall unconscious and tumble down them. And so he means to stay close out of caution, ready to catch her should the need arise.

"Probably not," she tells him somewhat breathlessly, and he fights the urge to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. He knows better, though. Whatever tentative peace they're trying to create between themselves would be utterly demolished if he were to engage in such an act. "But… it's just a feeling. I can't really explain it."

As they emerge from the garage, the sun is blindingly bright, and he glances at May where she's wincing from the shine of it. There's a nervousness radiating from her, an anxiety so great that it almost seems like he's experiencing it as his own.

"Will you be disappointed if it is not a girl?" he questions in an effort to take her mind off her disquiet.

At the crosswalk where they're waiting for the light to change, she looks towards him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I just… want her to be healthy. Everything else is kinda… secondary to that."

He mulls over this while they continue walking. Is she fearful that the child might not be well? Does she think that her sickness is affecting it in some way? He would ask, but he knows that she will not grant him the truth of the matter, not now. In their new relationship, she seems unwilling to show any sort of vulnerability before him, unwilling to do anything that might be indicative of a need where he's concerned.

It makes him think of those decades before their union had ended, of those years when they'd depended on one another, when she'd never hesitated to show him the most fragile parts of herself, when he'd never hesitated to reveal his own shortcomings. Together, they had each closed the gaps in the other, had strengthened their varying frailties and softened their harsh angles by dint of their love and respect and hope. But now… that is no longer the case. Now, things are shattered between them, the pieces of what they once shared set aflame by her betrayal and allowed to burn until only ashes remain of their once-great love.

On arriving at the building she had pointed at earlier, he steps forward to pull open the door for her, and she pauses, seemingly stunned by this meager consideration from him. Something vicious inside of him twists, and that sorrow he'd sworn to ignore earlier comes rearing back with a vengeance.

Calm down, you actual idiot, she thinks, and it's louder in his mind this time than it was the last. He doesn't mean anything by it, doesn't care about you or what you're going through. It's just a habit for him. Stop reminiscing on how he used to do this. Stop thinking about how things used to be. Just smile and walk in before he notices you freaking out, for fuck's sake.

And then she does. A threadbare smile tugs her lips up before she steps inside the cool air of the medical facility, a chill taking over her that almost has him stripping off his jacket to drape about her shoulders. Given her mental diatribe regarding his merely opening the door for her, however, he doesn't think that covering her with his coat would be well received.

Across the rather large room they find themselves in, there's a counter set at the opposite corner, its front marked with a sign that reads Check In. The receptionist sitting behind it is an older woman who raises an eyebrow at May and Morpheus when they approach.

"Can I help you?" she questions in a way that makes him think she'd rather not actually help them at all.

May gives a gracious smile. "Yes. I'm Doctor Martin's eleven o'clock."

The woman, whom Morpheus is growing to dislike more and more with every second they stand there, gives May an unimpressed once-over before turning her attention to a computer in front of her. "Michaela Westin?"

Morpheus glances down at May. It's a new name for her, one of a dozen he's heard her take over the century he's truly known her for, but it surprises him still. That she has assumed another false identity is not strange, a necessary evil she'd once called it, but that she should choose to do so even with those she might trust with her health is jarring. Was it simply Viego's paranoia that drove her to do such a thing? Or something else? Something more to do with their quick escape from their previous home? Matthew had told him that their journey to the new location had been an unpleasant one, that May had been sickly for the entirety of it and that Viego had apologized for being unable to stop and allow her rest. Granted, the older maker has always been meticulous when it came to his sister's safety, even during those many years that she had resided in the Dreaming, but... today had been different. Viego had been off. Not for the first time, Morpheus wonders if there is some specific danger that he is not being told of, if May and her brother are purposely keeping yet another secret from him.

After all, it is not as if she's never done it before.

"I found you. You're here for an appointment and an eight week scan. Is that right?"

"Yeah. I drank all the water I needed to, and I'm… good to go."

"It says here that you're… self pay. We'll need to verify your payment information."

"Of course." May rummages around in her purse, bringing her wallet out and sliding a black card emblazoned with the words American Express towards the receptionist, who picks it up and eyes it doubtfully.

"This is yours? No offense, hun, but I'm going to need your ID."

May's all politeness, all sweetness despite the woman's obvious rudeness. "No problem," she says as she hands another card over, this one with her picture on the front of it.

And the woman, whom he can glean is named Karen Talbot, seems just as unimpressed by this as she had by May's appearance. Morpheus feels anger swell up inside of him for this foul creature's disrespect. He very rarely cares for what mortals think of him, but he can see from Karen's thoughts that her opinion of May is a low thing, one full of prejudice and assumption. Unwed and with child, a morally unacceptable state by her small-minded reckoning. Never mind that May is kind and loving and his… Well, his nothing now, he supposes. She does not belong to him any longer, can be called nothing else in regards to him save for being referred to as the mother of his child.

He'd like to pretend he doesn't understand why that realization drives a spike of pain through his heart, but he cannot. It would be too large of a lie for him to swallow.

The receptionist casts a discourteous, dubious look at him. "And are you a… party to this?" She gestures towards May. "Maybe an… acquaintance of hers?"

May seeks to intercede, clearly trying to save him from having to interact with this loathsome female. "Oh, no. He's-"

"Her husband," Morpheus supplies before he can stop himself. He's not given to lying usually, not one to truly waste his time with falsehoods, and yet in these circumstances he almost feels it necessary.

"She indicated she was single on the intake forms," Karen argues, and in that instant he begins crafting his most terrifying punishment for her, begins envisioning what horror he will visit on her when he dooms her to an eternity of never ending sleep with his most savage Nightmares.

"An oversight clearly excused by her condition, I assure you," he practically growls in response. It is a petty thing, perhaps, to allow some of his power into the words, to touch this woman's mind with a hint of the nightmarish hell he's capable of inflicting upon her, but he relishes it all the same. The receptionist pales, and he takes a sort of perverse pleasure in that as well.

"Sorry for that. I'm his wife. Pregnancy brain is absolutely real and absolutely horrible," May interjects, her voice an octave higher than usual in something that Morpheus would call panic. "Should we just wait over here then? That would… probably be best."

The receptionist is staring at Morpheus with wide, terrified eyes as she shakily holds out a clipboard with a stack of papers atop it. "I… um… I need him to fill out the… the forms."

"Right. The forms," May answers, far too quickly as she snatches a pen from the cup of them on the desk. "We'll get those taken care of and back to you in a jiffy."

And then she's grabbing hold of Morpheus' sleeve and tugging him impatiently to a set of chairs at the farthest end of the room.

"Don't do that," she hisses when they've sat down. "The poor woman looked like she was going to have a heart attack."

"Poor woman? She should consider herself fortunate that you intervened, else she would have been thrust into the most abhorrent, cruel fate I was capable of rendering unto a mortal. Do you know what she was thinking of you? Do you have any idea how grievously she was judging you?" he hisses right back.

"Even without my magic, I was picking up on it. Okay? But you don't need to worry about that. I'm a big girl. I can handle someone not approving of my life choices."

He doesn't care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care, her thoughts ring out in his mind. He's just got a vested interest in the baby, and you're housing the baby, so get a hold of yourself.

"I could not stand idly by while she spoke to you so disrespectfully."

The sound she makes is one of immense irritation. "Well, you defended my honor and now there's a stack of paperwork for me to fill out, so thanks for that."

He doesn't know what she expects him to say to that, as he's certainly not going to apologize. But… then he remembers that he had been trying to lighten the load of her stress, and a sense of misgiving washes over him.

"You need not manage this on my behalf." He reaches out decisively to pluck the clipboard from her lap. "I am more than capable of this task."

"Hey!" she whisper-protests. "Don't… Just let me do it. It's-"

"I will see to this. It is not up for discussion."

May purses her lips and then puts her hands up, palm out, in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Fine. Have it your way."

Christ on a potato, he's really rocking that surly, toddler temper tantrum energy now, she thinks.

Morpheus gives her a side-eyed glare for that comment, despite that she had not actually spoken it aloud, before he starts on the forms. It only takes him a few minutes to realize that he might… be on unsteady footing regarding this specific undertaking. Of course, he refuses to accept her assistance or admit anything resembling defeat, so he forges ahead with what he'd set out to do.

She tries several more times to help him in poring over the frankly obscene number of redundant questions he's required to answer, but he only waves her attempts away. And for a time she seems to settle, though he knows that she is merely taking a different approach as he can feel her eyes on him still, watching while he ticks away at the multitude of boxes. She says nothing, staying silent until he comes to the form titled Medical History.

May chokes out a muted laugh and reaches over to tap the page where he'd just written I am no more tense than usual, certainly not enough to warrant use of the word hyper beside one of the boxes.

"Yeah. Cross that out," May instructs him blithely. "Hypertension is a condition where mortals have high blood pressure, which… you don't even have blood if you don't want to."

As he strikes an angry line through the sentence, he cannot help his scowl. "This is irritatingly tedious."

She shrugs as if his ire is of no real concern to her. "I offered to do it for you."

"This entire outing is an exercise in futility, wholly pointless considering that this mortal doctor will likely be unable to assist you in any meaningful way."

Her face falls, a sudden melancholy coming over her that brings him up short. "Just… don't start that."

Her thoughts this time are very loud, and he ponders over the curious phenomenon anew. Typically, he has to actively seek the mental workings of another out. He's not used to having such things projected into his awareness, and hers seem to be growing in intensity and volume with every occurrence. I'm such an idiot. Of fucking course he couldn't just stow his crap and let me get help. Never mind that I think I'm actually dying or something. Even that isn't important enough to get him to cool it.

Dying? Is she truly fearful that her… her illness is so dire?

His shoulders drop from where they'd been unconsciously tensed, and he blinks several times as he scrutinizes her more closely. She's a gaunt thing, he realizes then, from the dark smudges under her eyes to the unnatural pallor of her skin. Her lips are dry and cracked in places, one particular spot on the lower one especially red as if she is so dehydrated that the skin there is breaking apart and bleeding.

In that moment, he feels vile, loathsome, like nothing less than the most revolting sort of pond scum, like his treatment of her in this instance is even more contemptible than the receptionist's had been. Despite their past and his upset over it, May is currently grappling with something he cannot understand, rendered weak and weary from the weight of his seed growing inside of her. She is uncharacteristically afraid, he can see now, drained of her magic and suffering from what he'd unintentionally done to her by getting her with child in the first place.

And all he has offered her in return for this burden she's carrying is his petulant sullenness, his mean-spirited pessimism.

"I… apologize," he murmurs before he can even stop to consider what he's saying, "if I've given you cause to feel you must argue with me on this matter. It… was not my intention."

Her expression gentles, and her eyes well with tears that she hastily wipes at. "It's… I get it. This… isn't what you're used to."

"Nonetheless, it is… no excuse for my churlishness."

She nods, and his heart wrenches uncomfortably with how very bereft she seems as she does so. "It's… okay."

His eyes narrow as he considers this acceptance from her. How very easily she forgives him. How quickly she dismisses his faults in having behaved so abhorrently towards her.

How different things might have been between them if only he were capable of doing the same.

He must not think of that, must not imagine what could have been. That part of their relationship is done, the path of it obliterated and lost so that only mere echoes of it remain, but he knows that they can learn to do better by one another going forward. With the both of them preparing to parent a child together, they truly have no other choice in the matter.

"And how shall I answer this?" he asks as he points randomly at a word on the checklist of mortal maladies before him. It is an olive branch of sorts, a gesture meant to demonstrate to her that he is willing to listen.

Suspiciously, her eyes flick up at him before she turns them down to where he's indicated.

"Heart disease? I'm pretty sure you know you don't have that." A barely there smile tugs her lips up, and it is a sad thing to behold, like the drooping petals of a wilting flower trying to bloom. "You could probably just answer no to everything. It's… what I did."

"Very well."

"And… whatever you do, don't put down how many actual glasses of wine you can consume in a day when it gets to that part."

He frowns at her, his mind working to make sense of what she's just told him. "I assume… it would be a tell that I am not… normal then," he guesses.

Her eyes sparkle faintly with an unexpected mirth, a sort of teasing shine to them that is still dulled somehow. "Big yes. Biggest yes ever."

"I see."

When he's finished, May cautiously takes the forms from his hand to look over everything, and he surrenders the papers to her without dissent. A month ago, such an act on her part would have infuriated him, but he's… regretful. The self-hatred he feels in the wake of his actions is churning inside of him violently, forcing him to an apologetic tentativeness. And May has always had a far better sense of the norms in this realm than he, a truth he had recognized very early in their relationship when they made their occasional trips into the Waking. He supposes that she would be the best to ensure his answers are satisfactory.

After she's scanned it all twice, she goes to stand, and he stays her with a hand on her arm.

"What is it? I'm just heading over there to hand this to the receptionist."

"Sit," he orders roughly before gentling his tone. "I shall do so in your stead."

May hesitates. "You're not going to do anything else to… anyone, are you?"

It takes him a minute before he understands her meaning. The receptionist. She's worried for the receptionist. It is only with great control that he keeps his expression from darkening in remembrance. That woman had been abysmally rude to May, had treated her as if she were less than, as if she were something low and offensive, and all May is concerned with is making sure he doesn't exact retribution on the human. He struggles to reconcile her kindness, her goodness, with the fact that she had assuredly composed spells for that infernal grimoire, had written the very one that ensnared him even.

"I will… merely deliver these documents and then return to you. No… further defense of your honor, as you call it."

"Morpheus-"

"You have my word."

That seems to assuage her fear as she huffs out a resigned sigh before passing him the clipboard, and he rises to his feet, stalking to where Karen is still watching him with wide eyes, her whole demeanor like that of a rat with a hungry hawk swooping overhead.

Good.

"The… n-nurse should… should take her back in a… in a minute," Karen informs him as she holds out May's cards for him between her trembling fingers.

Morpheus glares as he bites his tongue on saying what he wishes to, which is that she is a poor example of humanity given to ignorance and the most foolish of the moral mires inherent in her society. But he… refuses to speak such truths given that by doing so he would only serve to further distress his… to further distress May, and he does not wish to see any more troubled than she already is.

"Very well," he grants instead, even as he idly wonders if it would be a violation of his oath to May were he to send this woman a particularly foul nightmare when next she slept. Something, perhaps, that might assist her in loosening her hold on her hateful prejudices.

"Thank you, Karen." May says, startling him as she appears at his side, taking her cards from the woman to slide them back inside her bag. "Did I hear you say the nurse would come get me soon?"

Karen, however, won't look away from Morpheus, and any other time he might take a sense of pride in her obvious fear. Now, however, he's too busy peering down at May in confusion. Had she not trusted him to do this? Had she believed that he would disregard his vow to her on leaving the mortal woman be?

Why does the thought of her so thoroughly doubting him… hurt?

He has no time to question her on any of this, though, as the door closest to him opens and another human steps out of it, a clipboard held in her hand as well.

"Michaela Westin?"

"That's me. I'm here. Hi." May smiles brightly, a veneer of polite cheer on her features that Morpheus thinks is but a mask. He's noticed her doing that often in the past few weeks, smiling as if she means it despite the air of hopelessness around her most of the time.

"Hello there! I'm Annabeth. Let's get you back into a room, sweetheart, and then I'll get some more information from you before we get started."

As May steps past him, it's instinct for him to rest his hand on the small of her back, to guide her so that she's walking slightly in front of him as they both cross this threshold.

He follows her into the inner sanctum of the physician's office, trailing after the nurse as she leads them through the labyrinthine mess of hallways and doors before ushering them into a room, a sterile, clinically white space with a large window and a rather tall bed pushed up against the farthest wall. There's a chair off to one corner and May directs him to it, shoving her bag into his stomach as she demurely asks, "Will you hold this for me, love muffin?"

Love… muffin? Love muffin? What a preposterous way to refer to him. The unmitigated cheek of this foolhardy female. It is only with a herculean effort that he manages to bite back his waspish response as he settles into the seat, glowering at her while he adjusts her bag in his hold.

But then… the nurse has her step on a scale, writing down May's weight with a worried frown that makes Morpheus instantly forget his annoyance at her insolent epithet for him.

"Why don't you hop up on the table for me, and I'll get some more vitals."

A strange panic is overwhelming him, but May seems calm, so he tries to placate himself as well, using her reactions a a guidepost for his own. When May's sitting on the bed, the nurse puts an odd device around the uppermost part of her arm, a cuff of some sort with a tube and a humming machine attached to it.

And May remains relaxed.

"It'll get tight, sugar," the nurse warns, and Morpheus tries to distract himself as she presses a button on the device. He studies this nurse, this Annabeth. She is… kinder than the receptionist had been, her mind drastically more pleasant, and he can read from it that she thinks May appears… sickly, more sickly than she should perhaps be. It's not quite fear she has, though, but more pity, a genuine compassionate urge to tend to May which Morpheus finds that he wholeheartedly approves.

May winces, and suddenly Morpheus can take no more. He moves to rise, to go to her, to put an immediate end to this madness where she is being poked and prodded before him, but she stops him with a pointed glare. "I'm fine, dear. They're just checking my blood pressure."

Annabeth looks between May and Morpheus, her eyebrows raising in puzzlement before she seems to comprehend something that makes her laugh. "Oh, I get it. Protective husband is an overprotective daddy."

It's the wrong thing to say.

The blood visibly drains from May's face, and Morpheus feels himself stiffen in shock. Their eyes meet, his and hers, and he can see the sadness there, the clear pain of what could have been. "He's… um… definitely going to be an overprotective dad," May replies, all of her quiet. Broken.

Annabeth, seemingly oblivious to this exchange, goes on with her task of scribbling things down on her clipboard. "Aw, don't fret about it, sweetie. The good ones get that way sometimes. I've had four myself, and my husband wouldn't even let me have my mornin' coffee because he was afraid the babies would come out with three heads or somethin'. It was frustratin' at the time, but in hindsight it was kinda darlin' of him."

Morpheus tears his eyes away from the woman he had once sought to marry, gathers himself as best as he can, and asks hoarsely, "I have read that women in such a state should not partake of caffeine."

Annabeth grins and wags a finger in his direction. "Now you don't start on her if she wants a cup or two. A little won't hurt anybody, even that tiny one of yours. And she sure looks like she could use a pick me up. Don't make it so she's gotta start keepin' a coffee machine and all the necessary fixins in her car like I had to."

May's unexpected laugh is beautiful, wholly melodic. "Your husband caused you to have to stealth brew coffee in your car?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain I'm eighty-seven percent caffeine, so I needed it like most people gotta have oxygen."

The smile May gives is genuine, her usual expression of enjoyment at having someone to converse with, and it strikes Morpheus that perhaps she is… lonely. "You're kind of making me want some coffee now, Annabeth."

"Good luck gettin' it past Mr. Overprotective over there."

To hear May laugh again loosens something in his chest, something that's had a ruthless hold of him since he'd feared she had been taken earlier. He tries to speak, to say anything, but his words are stuck in his throat as emotion swells within him. He loathes that he loves her, that he cares for her still despite that he should not.

"All righty. Any other symptoms you want me to put in your chart for the doctor, sweetie?" Annabeth questions, and the sound of the nurse's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "It says on your form that you've been gettin' sick."

May's easy contentment falters, her face falling. "I… Yes."

"How often, would you say?

May casts a hesitant glance at Morpheus before turning her attention back to Annabeth. "Almost… every hour."

"You been keepin' anything down at all?" the nurse asks with a frown, her brows furrowed in concern as she scrutinizes May anew.

May begins fidgeting again, something that she only engages in when she's especially nervous, and he feels his heart sink with dread. "Um… no. I don't think so."

Nothing at all? He had known that she was suffering from morning sickness, but to be retaining no nourishment cannot be safe for her or their child. Alarm floods him as the nurse moves to a cabinet and begins rummaging around in it.

"Lord Mercy, that sounds horrid," she says as she pulls her hand free with a large rectangle of fabric clutched between her fingers. "I'm gonna need you to get undressed from the waist down and put this over your lap. We'll try to do the ultrasound abdominally at first, but if we can't get a good picture we'll switch to the transvaginal." She points to two buttons on the wall. "Press this green one when you're ready, and Dr. Martin will have a look at you and the baby, see if he can't figure out something to help you with that nausea."

Help. Yes… May needs help. For the first time since he'd began this little excursion with her, Morpheus thinks he finally understands why she'd felt desperate enough to seek any healer out, even one mortal and ill-suited to treat her.

"That sounds great," May breathes out, a relief in her tone that cuts at Morpheus. He'd been ready to stop her today, had been so aggravated at what he perceived to be a ridiculous folly that he'd threatened to forcibly shift her home.

Annabeth grabs her papers and exits the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

May undoes the top button of her pants before she at last spares him a glance. "Can you… look away? Maybe turn around or…"

He wants to remind her that he's seen her naked body more times than this planet they're on has had stars crash into its surface, but she seems unnerved again, altogether stressed by how he might respond to this request of hers.

"If you wish, I could wait outside."

May shakes her head. "No, that's fine. Just turn around. If I send you out of the room, they'll assume we're fighting or something."

Dutifully, he faces away from her. "Ah, yes. It is important they do not see through the lie."

"Hey, that's not on me," she tells him over the shuffling sounds she's making. "You told them we were married. I was perfectly fine with them thinking I liked to sleep around or that we'd just gotten blackout drunk one night in Vegas and knocked boots without a condom."

He hadn't been fine with it, however. No matter her apparent acceptance of such a thing, the thought of her being viewed, being treated as less than had grated on him. "It doesn't… bother you? That they might… judge you so harshly for something they know nothing of?"

"Nope. Believe it or not, humans are pretty cool about that stuff these days. Well, most of them. The bitchy receptionist was a fluke."

"May-"

She huffs out a short laugh. "Sorry. Sorry. I know. You don't like that word."

His forehead creases."No, that is not… what I was intending to speak to you of. Please feel free to apply whatever colorful language you would like concerning that foul creature who greeted us upon entering."

"Wow. She really did piss you off, huh?"

He can hear the noise of paper crinkling behind him, and he wonders what exactly she's doing back there. "She angered me greatly. Her… attitude towards you was… unacceptable."

The sounds stop as she responds, "There are always going to be people who think badly of you here. You… get used to it after a while."

He can't help his scoff. "Is that meant to convince me that her behavior wasn't insulting?"

"Nope. It's just… It is what it is. There's no point in letting it upset you… Also, you can turn around now if you want."

She's sitting on the table, that mask of false cheer back on her face, the rectangle of fabric spread out over her bare lap, and without the benefit of a thick sweater on her, he can see exactly why the nurse had seemed uneasy when she'd taken May's weight. She's assuredly gotten thinner, likely a side effect of being unable to properly partake of any nourishment. Panic twists his stomach into a knot.

"Why… did you not inform me of how ill you were?" His voice is ragged with emotion, with the great well of battling sentiments inside of him.

The mask slides off of her features, and she glances down guiltily at the floor, twiddling her fingers in a restlessness that speaks to her trepidation. "It just… wasn't something that I really could work into a conversation, you know? Or something I even thought you'd care about. Like, what was I supposed to say? Oh I know you hate me and all but by the way, I'm really sick."

It's the second time she's mentioned him hating her, and despite the fact that he wishes he did, he's all too aware that he seems incapable of such a feeling where she's concerned. "Regardless of what you might assume, I do not… hate you."

Her thoughts, when they filter through his mind, are devastating, wrenching his heart with all the vengeful viciousness of their separation. But you do. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You might not want to admit it out loud, but you… you hate me. And I… hate me a little too. If only I could…. If only…. Never mind. It doesn't matter.

He opens his mouth to address this, to deny it, but he falters, his words stuck on the tip of his tongue. After all, what might he say to correct this belief of hers? What could he honestly give her that would change her mind? How can he adequately explain his feelings when he doesn't even understand them himself?

"You wanna press the button for me? So… I don't have to get up and all."

Dejectedly, he reaches out to do just that, but... something gives him pause. There's an odd smell in the air, an acrid hint of ozone and burning leaves, all melded with the iron tang of blood. His power flares at the scent, a warning shooting through his awareness like a bolt of lightning striking a tree.

Outside the room they're in, it's gone eerily silent. Deathly so, he would almost say, and when he expands his perception to get a read on who or what is near them, he's met with a disturbing blankness, one he's only ever known during the time he was trapped in that binding circle at Fawney Rig, the time all those decades ago that he was made powerless by Roderick Burgess.

And in that moment, Morpheus knows two things with utter surety. The first is that he was indeed correct when he'd surmised earlier that May was in danger outside Viego's wards, that she had been reckless to leave them on her own. Obviously, something or someone has been tracking her, lying in wait for the opportunity they might have were she to be free of the ward's protections. The second thing he knows, and perhaps the part that most worries him, is that whatever or whomever has been on her trail is in this building with them. Right now.

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List for BBHAP: @julesandro

If anyone else wants to be added to this or anything else let me know!!! <3

#dad!morpheus #morpheus x oc #morpheus x reader #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless #morpheus fic #sandman oc #sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x pregnant oc #BBHAP

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aerodaltonimperial · 3 months

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(Junglecorpse, 1.4k ish. In my defense, and I know I say this a lot but it's actually true this time, I am very legitimately going through a lot right now, and I don't know if my therapist would approve of this method of self-soothing or no, BUT whatever, Junglecorpse is one of the few pairings that activates my "MUST HAVE FLUFF NOW" toggles when normally I avoid fluff like the plague. I wrote this snippet a few months back or so for Vamp via chat and expanded it today for Myself™️ so I'm posting it here so I can save it on the masterlist. You do not have to read this.)

“Do you think Tony’s gonna lose his mind and create a new pay-per-view every week?” Jack asks, while thumbing up through his Twitter feed somewhat absently. He’s only got his right hand, as Darby has stolen his left. Darby’s got one of his ink pens, the felt-tipped kind he uses to doodle sometimes, and the brush of the tip against the skin on the back of Jack’s hand is calming. Sometimes Jack ends up with skulls littering his knuckles, other times with swoops and flourishes; mostly, he just lets Darby do his thing. It’s familiar.

“Seems like a bad business model,” Darby replies. His head is bowed, chin turned down as he works. Last week, Jack went out to lunch with his sister with a stylized skateboard heading up against the bump in his wrist bone, and she’d laughed for about three minutes straight.

Jack snorts a little, still scrolling. Doom-scrolling, really, though he’ll never admit that to his therapist. “Yeah, people are gonna stop paying if all they ever see is Hanger and Swerve stapling each other’s chests every single month, over and over again.”

“You may be greatly underestimating the public interest in that.” Darby laughs.

“Oh.” Jack frowns at the back glow, squinting a little. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Man. Should I start up a homoerotic feud with somebody with the sole goal of getting some really violent death matches?”

“Please don’t let anyone else staple your chest,” Darby says, a bit muffled. The brush pen curls along Jack’s skin.

“Anyone else? Whoa, buddy, stapling me was not on the to-do list for this week.”

Darby snorts. “I like you in one piece, thanks. And I’m not a big fan of watching you bleed all over the mats.”

“Oh, sure, but I have to watch you toss yourself spine first off the posts every Wednesday,” Jack says. He taps the screen again with his thumb, pulling down. Something something official AEW twitter, five clips from the last show, and Stokely buying another celebrity Cameo to woo Kris Statlander. Actually, that one’s pretty funny. He got Barack Obama to do it. Jack didn’t even know Obama had a Cameo.

The brush tip swirls, then taps a few times. “Aw. You gettin’ anxious over me?”

“Well, if you die, who’s going to keep my feet warm at night?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you: wear socks. Your feet are fucking freezing.”

Jack huffs out another laugh. The Obama cameo was hilarious. Stokely deserves managing her at this point. “I don’t need socks, I have your legs.”

“Dick,” Darby grumbles.

“But back to this pay-per-view thing. This is a lot of matches. Having even more on Sunday, every month, feels kind of overwhelming. Like, I need to have the roofing guy come look at my place? And I can’t schedule it because Tony keeps creating new shows.”

“Mm.” Another swoop of the brush, then some lines. Jack glides through an update from Prince Nana that reads truly bizarre, a reblog from Bowens that reads genuinely excited, and a post from Danhausen that’s mostly nonsense ending with ‘you’re cursed.’ “Maybe next week. Your shingles? Or the gutters? I don’t think I remember you talking about any other issues.”

“Just the shingles. After that last wind storm, I think a few came off, and now I’m worried the whole damn thing will come down around me one night.”

Darby huffs out a laugh, but the doodling ministrations on the back of Jack’s hand don’t pause. “I think you’d get a bit of a heads up before that happens.”

“Only if someone is physically there to yell ‘heads up’ at all times,” Jack jokes. Another tweet from the official AEW account, and then a reblog. Sammy posted. Ricky posted. Sammy tweeted at Ricky with a bunch of capslock, Ricky quote-retweeted with a gif of a dancing middle finger, and Jack skips all of that. Let them argue on main if they want to. Sammy’s just gonna try to fall on Ricky from the scaffolding again.

“I’ll do it.”

The drawing on the back of his hand stops. “Oh, yeah?” Jack smiles. “Are you volunteering to always…” He looks down at the doodles on his skin, and freezes.

Adorning his knuckles are a series of curves, vine-like, that curl up towards his ring finger where they create a solid horizontal line, and in the middle of his hand, somewhat shaky, given they were written upside down to be read from Jack’s direction, blocky letters spell WILL YOU MARRY ME.

Jack’s chest constricts. He can’t breathe. With his heart roaring against his ears, he whips his gaze up to stare at Darby, whose expression is maddeningly neutral. “Darby. What the fuck?”

“Okay, that’s… a response,” Darby says, with the tiniest of shrugs and a pinch to his lips. “Think it’s pretty clear.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Darby replies, mouth quirking up at the corners. “Yeah, I am.”

“You…” Jack’s tongue is ungainly, swollen. “Oh my god.”

“I’m not hearing an answer.”

“But… why would you…”

Darby drops his eyes, dragging his thumb over the topmost part of his impromptu design in a caress, and his smile never really diminishes. “Jack, what did you think this was? What did you think this was going to be? I don’t do things in halves, I told you that from the get-go. You know me. It’s you and me, and that’s what I want. Forever.”

“Are… are you sure?” Jack’s gonna choke on everything bubbling up from his chest.

Darby’s eyes slide back up. They reflect the lamplight, bright shiny starbursts. “Yeah, Jack, I’m really fucking sure. And if you don’t—”

“Yes.”

Darby pauses, tongue slipping out to press into the corner of his mouth. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Jack laughs, the sound bubbling up through his throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Holy shit.” Darby’s smile widens, impossibly stretched. “Holy shit. Really?”

Jack grabs for Darby’s face, clutching the sides of his head. He mashes their mouths together with way too much force, but he can’t stop it, because the rattling in his veins has started to sing. Then he pulls away. “You asked, you absolute loon, how did you not expect an answer? Yes, really. Really.”

And then he’s not really sure of much other than the fact that they’re both laughing, euphoric, and Jack doesn’t care about the roof anymore, or the idea of someone stapling his chest, because all that really pales in comparison to everything else, and he thinks ah, that’s exactly how it should be.

His brain starts to catch up with reality, sluggish. “Where are we gonna live? My place, or your place? This is opposite sides of the country, you know. Oh, wow. We’re gonna have to file taxes together.”

Darby laughs, features pulled incredulous. “What?”

“Should we hyphenate our last names?” Jack’s eyes track over Darby’s face: blue, blue, blue, his eyes are so blue. Should they have blue in their wedding? Should they have a wedding? “Should we hyphenate them in the ring? Wait, I have to go to the grocery store today, and I don’t want to wash this off my hand. Should I take a photo? Or wear a glove? Am I gonna look like Michael Jackson?”

“Jack,” Darby laughs again, high and bright. “Darling. Light of my life. You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m seventeen steps ahead again, aren’t I.”

Darby grabs his face between his palms. “Yes. Yes, you are. Honestly, I don’t know where we’re gonna live. We’ll probably just keep both places. Yes, we’re gonna have to file taxes together. No, I don’t know if we’ll hyphenate our names; I really don’t give a shit. Yes, you can take a photo. No, you will never look like Michael Jackson.”

“You don’t have an opinion about our names?” Jack asks.

Darby hauls him closer, until their noses touch. He’s smiling, smiling, and Jack’s smiling, the expression too wide and aching on his face. “Jack, I don’t fucking care. I just want to be with you and your stupidly cold feet.”

“Does this proposal come with the condition that I have to buy some socks?”

“Don’t you even dare,” Darby replies, his thumb gliding along Jack’s cheek a little. “You’re gonna shove your feet between my legs in the middle of the night and jolt me awake like you always do, and I’m gonna fuckin’ love it, every damn time.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap,” Jack says.

“Get to used to that, ‘cause you’re gonna be legally stuck with me after this.”

“Awesome,” Jack breathes, and kisses him again.

#Junglecorpse #tag so you don't lose this shit #This is not worth reading lol #I just needed it here for me

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alicevanillee · 20 days

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A (Weird) Look Into Drumless Albums: Daft Punk & DJ Sabrina The Teenage DJ

2023: In celebration of the 10th anniversary since the release of Daft Punk's 2013 'Random Access Memories', the duo (or whoever manages them now they've broken up) emerged with - alongside an anniversary edition - perhaps one of the strangest release decisions in dance music... ever? : an entirely drumless version of their beloved album, nary a kick nor snare in sight.

now, I should mention that RAM is not my favourite daft punk album, but credit where credit is due, you can't deny get lucky and lose yourself to dance.

nonetheless this version of the album spans between the actually quite alright (in the case of The Game of Love); something frustratingly lacking - Giorgio by Moroder without drums totally misses the mark and is... 9 minutes long; and the secret third thing in lose yourself to dance that is sorta what this semi-structured ramble is about:

Lose Yourself To Dance (Drumless Edition) is... agonising...ly.. good??? - like... alarmingly so

one thing daft punk had always excelled at (in my eyes) is creating a sound that makes you BEG for some musical satisfaction - Crescendolls on discovery is the clearest example - and playing that for the entire song.

What Lose Yourself gains without drums is this overwhelming internal feeling that at any point the drums are going to finally kick in and give that satisfaction that the track is building up to. Im being serious, go listen to it, its 6 minutes of the tensest build up with absolutely zero release, its brilliant - I haven't seen anything else quite like it and I strangely love it. It totally peels back the idea of what dance music needs and is still so excellently danceable in its own way.

So, the reason I bring this up is because DJ Sabrina The Teenage DJ's 'Destiny (Drumless Edition)' does this for almost all of its entire, majestic 3 hours and 56 minute runtime. And of course this album was probably just a joke about Daft Punk's release, and a continued meme about how the artist dropped a 4 hour album fairly casually - but like Lose Yourself To Dance, its really surprisingly quite good.

now, before you rush into it (I know you're TOTALLY BEGGING to, and have already put aside 4 precious hours to dedicate to the album.) I feel that the feeling im talking about here only makes sense when you know a bit of DJ Sabrina's other stuff: its (usually) some absolutely excellent sampling work with a massive side chained 4 on the floor that slides in halfway through. It's simple, but executed brilliantly. Check out all 7 minutes of 'Next To Me', and you'll get the vibe.

I'm not saying this version is better than the original... absolutely not, and same goes for Lose Yourself To Dance. But there really is something here when it stretches out for 4 hours. I think I may be one of the very few people who have actually sat through a large chunk of the album, but that feeling of anticipation turns from unease into a trancelike... calm?

Destiny Drumless is... like... incredible study music, especially with Sabrina's heavily layered style, the samples begin to wash over you without any pause (the album has basically zero dead air), and it becomes wonderfully tranquil to just... sit... and absorb what you can of the glossy synths and gentle pads as they pass you by.

While RAM Drumless is, really not great save for a few tracks and DJ Sabrina is fairly underground... I do sincerely hope that the joke about it catches on, because drumless dance is... utterly bizarre, but can really very much work with the right artist, and that weird feeling you get while listening is something im not sure exists anywhere else in music right now.

#music journalism #music #dance music #dj sabrina the teenage dj #daft punk

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lulubelle814 · 7 months

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Just Dizziness - Chapter 2

It had been a month or so since the accident, and Tom has been so incredibly patient; however, after so long, his patience was waning. He and I are both desperate for my memories to return, and I've been trying so hard.

Tom has been so respectful. At first, I tried to stay in the guest room but quickly found I had a hard time sleeping, finding the only time I could was when Tom was nearby. After a few days of trying to sleep in the guest room but falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch, I gave in and moved into the main bedroom with him; however, he continued to be respectful and didn’t try to initiate anything beyond cuddling when I wanted or anything else I was comfortable with.

I knew he, just like myself, was frustrated with the lack of progress, kept telling me how grateful he was that I had survived the accident. When something started feeling familiar, I became excited. After a while, I began to wonder if the familiarity was real or just an attempt at grasping straws, hoping too hard that something was coming back.

The following morningI woke up to find myself back in my apartment with Sarah. I was on the floor, sprawled out in a haphazard manner, and Sarah looked beyond concerned.

"What in the world happened? I told you to go see a doctor!"

I was utterly confused. "Where's Tom?"

She looked at me confused. "Huh? Who's Tom?"

I then returned the bizarre look. "Tom? My, uh…….my husband? He was here when I fell asleep. He's been trying to help me remember...."

"Ok, It's definitely time to go see a doctor. You are not nor have you ever been married." Was that a dream? My confusion grew 10 fold. "But he said.....he's been trying to help me remember....something about forgetting the past 3 years?"

I was so confused and on the verge of tears.

"It's ok. Let's get you to the hospital just to get you checked. You're freaking me out a little." It didn't take much convincing, and before long she was walking me into the ER. Considering the subject matter, they took me back right away. Neurology started running tests, and the hospital psychiatrist was also called.

The neurological tests and exams came back clear, but when the psychiatrist walked in, I really started freaking out. It was the same one from my dream with Tom.

Panic overwhelmed me to the point that it brought on another dizzy spell, so bad that I fainted on the spot.

When I came to a while later, I was back in my bed and smelled pancakes and bacon drifting down the hall, but it didn't quite register. I started panicking again, not sure which was the dream: this or being in the hospital with my best friend.

Tom came to check back but rushed to my side when he saw me in the midst of a breakdown. I tried to tell him about my dream but only fragments would come out.

"Is this real? Where is Sarah? I was just in a hospital? I'm just so..."

I started to hyperventilate. Tom pulled me into his lap, holding me close, telling me to breathe with him. He took some deep but regulated breaths trying to help, reminding me to breathe with him.

After a couple of minutes, I finally began calming down a bit.

"Are you alright, love? Do you want to talk about it?"

I was still confused, but this felt so real. The hospital with Sarah felt real too, but I tried to convey what happened.

He was hesitant, but it wasn’t hard to feel his muscles tense when I said her name. "What, Tom? What is going on?"

He looked off to the side. "I'm not sure how to tell you, and I don't know why it hasn't come up until now. Your best friend……she passed away a couple of months before we met."

This was devastating. "Are you sure? I swear, it felt so real, and she was telling me I had never been married? What is going on? I feel like I'm losing my mind."

He held me close before speaking again. "I'm so sorry. I cannot even begin to fathom what you are going through. If you want, I believe there is an album of the two of you along with her obituary."

He stayed with me a few more minutes, quiet, still working on breathing before I moved, nodding against his shoulder. Maybe this would help? When I moved, he moved. He helped find the scrapbook with pictures of me and her. At the end was her obituary. This was the latest in picture albums and online pictures he had gone through with me, trying to help jog my memory. The pictures were the first solid thing that looked familiar, bringing back memories of me and my bestie with exception to her sudden passing from an undiagnosed heart condition.Tom looked at me mixed with concern and compassion.

"Maybe it's time we started seeing a therapist? Maybe they would be able to help with both this and the memory issues?"

I agreed and held onto him. His scent and him holding me had been the only things comforting me and also seemed at least vaguely familiar since waking up in the hospital from the accident.

Chapter 3

#tom hiddleston #twh #tomhiddleston #twhiddleston #damn hiddleston #hiddlestoners #thomas william hiddleston #hiddleston #hiddles #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #just dizziness

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thechangeling · 2 years

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All I wanted

Kit and Livvy's kiss from Ty's pov.

Title is from All I wanted by Daughter.

Cw: Alexithymia.

As Ty pulled himself up higher and higher, the voices of Kit and Livvy drifted into incomprehensible backround noise. He climbed effortlessly, chasing the euphoria that came from being up high. Being away from everything.

As enjoyable as spending time with Livvy and Kit had been, eventually he had needed a break as he often did from people. For some reason staying around other people for too long made his head ache and his skin itch. Like something was stuck inside him. He pulled himself ontop of the cliffside he was climbing and perched comfortably, observing Kit and Livvy from a birdeye view.

Kit looked so different from up there, almost like a small blond blob of sorts which was amusing. But Ty could still recognize him even miles away. The details of everything Kit were simply too difficult to miss.

It was a little strange Ty supposed, how quickly Kit had become someone to him. Become significant, essential even.

Irreplaceable.

He could have never envisioned this in the beginning when he first saw Kit. That Johnny Rook's son who he had once held at knife point would become honestly one of if not, the closest friend Ty had ever had. In the beginning he had felt something. A pull, a tether of some sort, but he assumed it was mostly curiosity. He wanted to unravel the mystery that was Kit and it only became more and more involved.

When Kit had barricaded himself in one of the spare rooms, now his room, Ty most likely should have stayed away. But he felt that same pull and a bizarre overwhelming urge to be close to the boy. And that desire had only grown.

It was mildly concerning how Ty could feel himself becoming obsessed the way he obsessed over Sherlock Holmes. He wanted to learn everything about Kit, to crack him open and study his insides. Ty wanted to touch him, like he had in the kitchen that day when he put the iratze on him. He wanted to touch him all over, to hold him close, to slip underneath his skin and make a home there.

It was a terrifying thought.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Livvy and Kit out of curiosity to see the two of them getting closer together.

Ty knew he shouldn't be spying but he was almost morbidly transfixed as he watched Kit carefully curve his arm around Livvy's shoulders and pull her towards him, kissing her gently.

There was a blinding stabbing pain in his chest as though he had been run through with a seraph blade. Ty's vision began to blur and his ears rung.

Breathe, he reminded himself. Whenever he felt like this he needed to remember to breath, or to move, to rock do anything to calm himself down. He tried to tear his gaze away from Kit and Livvy but it was as though he were watching a trainwreck.

Ty shook himself free and looked away sharply. His heart was racing and his skin burned. But why? Why did he feel so upset? He had no business prying into his sisters love life, and he knew that no matter what, Livvy could take care of herself. He tried to examine his feelings but as usual their was nothing concrete, nothing definable.

Just pain. It made no sense.

"Livvy! Ty! Kit!" He heard Diana's voice calling them. "All of you, get back here now! I need your help!"

Ty shook off whatever he was feeling and climbed down the cliffside.

Kit seemed nervous when he saw him, almost as if he was hiding something. Was he ashamed about kissing Livvy? It didn't make any sense. Ty ignored them both and neither of them seemed to notice or care.

In their defense that was often typical behavior for him. He changed his music from his usual calming soft music to a song with more of a sad dramatic feel by a band called Daughter.

Livvy fell into her usual spot beside him as they walked and for some reason Ty felt mildly irritated by it.

He had been doing an excellent job of compartmentalizing throughout the day and keeping his mind off of the kiss. But their was still this undercurrent of pain, especially when he spoke with Kit. He had been trying not to seem angry with Livvy but he could still feel annoyance bubbling to the surface. He wasn't sure if she could tell or not, but it still made him feel guilty.

When Julian and the others finally got back they had brought Kieran with them and Mark was being.. strange around him. Not his usual oddness but more tense? Sad? Ty couldn't tell. It was intriguing. He found himself watching the way he behaved around Kieran all day.

Later on, in the evening when things had become less hectic he sought Mark out to speak with him. Ty wasn't exactly sure why, but he felt compelled to.

"What's on your mind Tiberius?" He asked, once Ty had followed him to the kitchen.

What's on your mind? It was such a strange expression. It always made him think of living thoughts standing and running around on top of his brain, bouncing off the squishy matter.

"I was just wondering," Ty fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. "What does love feel like?"

Ty wasn't even attempting to make eye contact, or anything remotely close to it because it was Mark and he understood. But he could image his expression was probably quite confused.

"Well," Mark shuffled back and forth slightly on his feet. "It can feel like a lot of different things in my experience."

Ty looked up at him. "Well that isn't very helpful," he informed him. Mark laughed, which was confusing because he didn't think he had said anything particularly funny.

"You are absolutely right Ty, I'm sorry." He paused. "It can be-"

"Painful," Ty interrupted him.

Mark looked stunned, and then resigned. "Yes it can be painful. It can also be beautiful and filled with joy. It can be fun and hilarious. It can be maddening. "

"What do you feel with Kieran?" Ty asked. He knew he may be overstepping a boundary but quite frankly he didn't care.

Mark sighed, running his hand through his, now short again blond hair. "I've felt everything," he muttered. "I've been so enamored with him I thought I would die. I've been so furious with him I wanted to kill him, to rip him to pieces. I've.." he trailed off. "Felt other things that I shouldn't be telling you about because you are too young and my brother."

Ty rolled his eyes. "I'm not a child Mark. I don't need to be coddled."

"It is not about coddling you," he said firmly. "There are some things I just shouldn't tell you. Anyways, why do you ask?"

Ty shrugged. "I'm just curious." And in a way that was the truth. But not the full truth.

He wished he could ask Mark why he could feel Kit inside of him wherever he went. Slithering around his internal organs and making a home for himself inside Ty's veins. It wasn't fair. He never asked for this.

"Is there anything else you need?" Mark asked.

Make it stop. Just make it stop.

"No," Ty lied, instantly feeling guilty.

Because the truth was, if he really examined how he was feeling. He would be forced to confront the fact that there was something he needed, desperately in fact.

He needed Kit.

Tagging: @lavender-scented-rat @littlx-songbxrd @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @amchara @wagner-fell @sandersgrey @the-wckd-powers @spooky-drusilla @ellexu

#tsc #the dark articles #tda #kit x ty #ty blackthorn #kit herondale #livvy blackthorn #mark blackthorn

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senjuushi · 1 year

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I loved the post about how some of the boys would feel about a really touchy master that randomly sits in their laps or like comes up behind them and drapes their arms around the boys shoulders when theyre sitting down. Can you do a version for Gras, Parume, murata, and 89?

Gras

At first, he doesn't mind. But that's mostly because he's fully expecting the affectionate touching to turn into something else. When you never escalate it, though, Gras ends up somewhere between confused and frustrated. And beyond that, the gentleness is quickly starting to make him uncomfortable. He can't stand being treated so softly. He'll try to goad you into getting either rougher with him or sexual— whichever you'd prefer, so long as this bizarre affection changes its course.

Parume

This is... probably fine? You're not hurting him or trying to advance the touching, so it's really not doing any harm. Parume keeps waiting for some ill intention to show through, but when there's none to be found, it's just kind of nice. Physical affection is pleasant in a way he hadn't expected, and like this, it's given without the expectation of anything in return, or any terrible consequences. He gets used to your touchiness quickly and is overall content to let the affectionate gestures continue.

Murata

His feelings about the matter depend mostly on the form of affection you're giving— for example, he's quite fond of having you sit in his lap (it makes him feel protective and relied on), but hugs from behind are a little more uncomfortable. Anything too doting sets him on edge, and the undeniable reality that he likes the touch only makes that worse. Murata will allow it, for the most part, but he'll try to only allow scenarios that don't make him feel quite so vulnerable. Not that he can make himself protest much.

89.

He's dying. Every time you touch him, 89 is a blushing mess. Having you in his lap is a hundred times worse, for a very specific reason that he's terrified of you noticing. He can't help it! Constant affection like this is everything he's dreamed of, but the reality is both twice as overwhelming as he'd expected and unbearably flustering. The closer you are to him, the more he's struggling to maintain any semblance of calm... and it's not working. And yet, there's no way he could ever think of asking you to stop.

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #Gras #Parume #Murata #89 #Headcanon #Reader

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standingontheoverpassscreaming · 6 months

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I’m not religious but I get it. The older I get, the more I get it. Standing in the crowd at the rock show, listening as the sea of bodies pressed against you belts every lyric, that’s church. Sitting for hours for a large tattoo, the hum of the machine, the rhythm of the scraping points, connecting with your body more intensely than ever as you move the tension from the area your artist is creating on to another limb, feeling the bizarre calm and comfort that lies under the pain and adrenaline, that’s meditation.

And the overwhelming love you feel looking into the eyes of someone- a lover, family, a child- they way it knocks your heart off beat and springs tears to your eyes abruptly while you smile, big and genuine, that’s god.

it’s real easy tbh, knowing these things. Because the truth is, if you unscrew my skull cap and pluck out my brain, hold my entire being in your hands, you’ll see it little more than like 12 pounds of electrified goo. And how the fuck could 12 pounds of goo that uses a majority of its time and energy trying to keep its meat suit alive possibly be able to sus out the identity and will of a being it supposes made it. How could that cosmically microscopic fleck of goo dream of understanding a before or after. That which we use to understand our world and, increasingly, our universe, is hardly equipped to do so, much less that which is greater than.

It’s so easy. Do good, give love, be kind. All to others, all to yourself. Figure out the rest when you have more than 12 pounds of electric goo to operate with. If we were meant to build certainty about the great beyond, we would’ve been given the tools.

#personal #ignore

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honeybeecomebuzzingme · 1 year

Text

What is the future? My dad won't let me see what I am capable of. He just goes straight to accusing me of breaking or dropping stuff on purpose and then when I get upset, feel overwhelmed, and meltdown he blames N and then while I'm trying to explain that I need to take a moment to calm down cos I feel triggered he tries to grab me and grab things off me.

Which like is a bigger trigger than a pan falling over, a cup of tea, a microwave, a remote control, a phone, a vacuum cleaner, and cake.

How the heck could I hurt myself with cake?

That was the last straw?

So after he tried to grab the cake off me I hid it in my room until I could go share it with N and his family.

Today I forced myself not to delete messages and oh my god he called me? I love him so much. He's like a light at the end of the tunnel.

I know logical perspective he's a positive influence on me and he makes me happy so everything he does gives me a boost even when he's telling me that I frustrate him sometimes.

God it's so bizarre that I love how N finds me frustrating and yet with my dad I find him so frustrating that it literally boils down to "don't grab food off me when I'm hungry!"

It's not like I was going to throw the cake away. I was actually worried that he was going to do that or drop it on the floor. I was simply going to do what he said was ok to do with my birthday cake. I basically spent my entire day after my birthday not eating at all and then when I went to try share my cake. Also why do I need my dad's permission to share my birthday cake with anyone? How does accidentally dropping pans mean that I'm going to hurt myself with cake?

Also can I please have a moment to understand that I deserve boundaries and like he not touch me without consent ever again. Consent is important!

I use my money to buy food, I should be able to eat the things I buy. Someone gives me a birthday cake and says I can share it then that shouldn't change because gravity decided a bunch of pans had to fly to the floor.

I wish I could have my own place mainly so I can eat things that I buy for myself without my dad's weirdness and like overbearing nature.

The only people I really feel comfortable eating in front of is N and his family. I feel like my dad judges me too much and I am always anxious that he's going to shout at me for cooking.

It's hard to eat, I just want food all the time.

I'm writing about food too much.

Now I'm hungry. Probably have chocolate.

I'm worried that if I eat the pink wafers I bought my dad will freak out like he did with the cake.

I bought 2 packs- 1 for me to share with N and one for my dad. What if he's assuming that box was bought by him so if I eat them he'll get upset. He's so easy to upset it's frustrating.

I'm so scared all the time that he'll grab me.

The things with our family feels broken. Like he refuses to get the support we need to heal.

It's frustrating. I'm always stressed living here.

I don't understand why my dad's house is falling apart. A lot of things have been broken for years and it feels like he enjoys things being broken and miserable. Almost like I have to stay here to try fix everything and I am stuck in his control.

But- positive! This blog is for mushy stuff!

N is a wonderful human being. Golden.

I love him.

If there was a way to measure it I'd love to say he is my soulmate. True love, love at first sight, all that, he's the only one who fits perfectly.

If you could say that I knew him for eons, our spirits being reincarnated for hundreds of years, destined to find each other and fall in love.

He saved me from an arrow in some ancient battle, pulled me into a cave and whispered sweet nothings as he undid his kilt.

Bent me over and slid in quite rightly.

All things are water. All things are fire.

Call us steaming.

#deep thoughts #ramblings #lovestruck #ready for love #sleep deprivation #self deprecating humor #depression and anxiety #self healing #self love

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literaila · 4 years

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sweet sweet relief

spencer reid x reader

request: do a Reidxreader where the reader is hotch’s younger sibling? They’d be new to the bau and hotch is over protective and reluctant to let them do anything. Due to their young age they get super close to Reid, maybe fluffy or angsty? Thank you!

Warning: angsty (kinda), BAU stuff...

The first time Y/N had met the team they could barely tell the two of them were related.

They were nothing alike.

It wasn't even just outside appearances, they were different, in character, in shape, in every form possible.

Aaron Hotchner was calm and quiet, he was known to be stern and sophisticated, he worked actively to stay in control. He was cautious and careful. He was the epitome of undisturbed.

Y/N Hotchner was not.

She was feisty and stubborn, and she would rather argue with someone than submit to them, and she was lively and sarcastic and known to be impatient.

There were barely any similarities between the two.

But they were both smart, and they both had a mindset for justice, both believe that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, that everyone had a right to feel safe in their world. They both believed that by removing just a little bit of the darkness within the world, just a little bit, it would make everything brighter.

But besides that, they were two completely different people.

It was a surprise to everyone that they were related.

That two people so completely different could share the same DNA.

So when Y/N walked into the conference room, a little later than Hotch had requested, all of his team members shared confused glances at the smirk Hotch had on his face, at the almost-hug he had given this girl.

She looked far too young to be his girlfriend.

Hotch turned around to 6 pairs of confused eyes, 6 people with questions, 6 people who looked very very intimidating to Y/N.

She’d heard all about Aaron's team, she’d heard about the lovely technical analysis, the eldest profiler who had a kick for jokes, she’d heard about Derek, the strongest member of the team, she’d heard about Emily and her history in crime, JJ who’d been the top in her class, and the genius who was only 3 years older than her.

She’d heard about all of them.

That didn't mean she was any less nervous to meet them.

And with the way they were looking at her like they already wished she was gone, her nerves shot through her body.

She couldn't help but turn to her brother, her eyes cast downward, and hope that he knew she needed help. Hoped that he knew her just enough to know when she was nervous.

“This is Agent Y/N Hotch. Strauss assigned her as a new addition to our team.”

There was more collective confusion around the room.

“Hotch?” Morgan asked, Y/N looked up at him, to see him frowning at her, she wondered why he cared that much, wondered why he was bothered by her, why he looked like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Yes.” she answered back quickly, and sternly, like she was telling him as a favor, “Aaron is my brother.”

There was a gasp from across the room.

A blonde woman, with bizarre earrings and questionable clothes, walked over to Y/N, a wide smile on her face as she looked at Hotch with hopeful eyes.

“Sister?” she asked, almost like she was being given a gift Y/N thought.

Hotch only nodded.

Her smile got wider.

She embraced Y/N, pulling her into a quick hug like they’d known each other forever. Y/N felt some nerves escape her at the hug, at least one person didn't hate her already.

“Hotch didn't tell me he had a sister, it makes sense though, you’re so pretty.” She pulled back to smile at Y/N, she had bright energy, one that reminded Y/N of a friend back home, her smile was contagious.

“Y/N, this is Penelope Garica, the technical analyst I told you about.”

“It's lovely to meet you.” Y/N said laughing, as Penelope pulled her into another hug, she already had a special place in her heart for the blonde.

“You have a sister?” Derek asked, and Y/N looked over Penelope’s shoulder to see his face much more relaxed, less threatening, she immediately placed him as the man Aaron had told her about, the strong one.

“Yes, I do. I never told anyone for security reasons, and there's never been a need to bring it up.” Hotch looked at his little sister with pride, he was glad she was there, glad he was going to get to spend some more time with her, glad she had made it so far so early in her career.

“Plus, he didn't want to brag.” Y/N teased, making eye contact with Derek as a way to say she didn't mean any harm, as a way to let him know she wasn't going to be a problem.

He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“I’m Derek Morgan.”

After that, three other people came up to her, with warm smiles, all introducing themselves, JJ who seemed warm and paternal. Emily, who looked to Y/N like a rebel at heart, she smiled a little extra at that. And Rossi, who immediately told her she was a part of the family, “Any family member of Aaron’s is a family member of ours.”

It felt strange to be accepted by all of them so quickly, strange to feel so comfortable so quickly.

And then she was introduced to Spencer.

It took her heart a moment to force her to move.

She’d heard about Spencer, the man who was closest to her age, the smartest man Aaron had said he’d ever met, the Doctor with three PhDs.

He was utterly attractive.

Nerves shot up and down her body, reminding her of the fear she had prepared herself for, though this time it was a different type of fear.

She had not prepared for soft brown eyes and messy hair.

She had not prepared for him to be anything like he was.

Fuck.

He was exactly her type.

She shyly smiled at him, and he waved, just waved, unlike the handshakes she had gotten from everyone else, something in her mind was telling her not to question it.

With a blush on her cheeks she looked away, she looked away and reminded herself that she was there to work, that her boss was her brother, that even if she did immediately want to know everything about the doctor only ten feet away from her, that this was work.

She stayed silent for a couple of moments.

Her brother announced it was time to get started on the case.

***

It had taken a couple of weeks to get used to the job.

Aaron had warned her as much.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he’d asked as soon as she’d announced she was moving out to Virginia, moving to work with the FBI. Y/N had taken it as judgment, she thought he didn't think she could do the job, didn't think she was strong enough, didn't think she was mature enough to handle the BAU.

She’d immediately run to her own defense, “I’ve been sure for almost 3 years Aaron.”

“No, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… this job takes a toll on a person. Are you sure you want to do it?”

There hadn't been a doubt in her mind, had not been a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering if she was really strong enough, if she really dared to do what her brother did every day, there was never a question of if she thought she could do it.

It hadn't even taken her a moment to answer yes.

But, this time, Aaron had been right.

Seeing dead bodies, learning about different methods of insanity, diving into the mind of people who were sadistic, not saving everyone. It was all heartbreaking.

And exhausting.

Y/N was starting to understand what her brother had meant, what he was thinking of when he said it took a toll on people, she was starting to wonder how he dealt with it, how he went every day being the boss and not breaking down while dealing with what they dealt with.

She was starting to wonder how they all dealt with it.

Most days, none of them seemed bothered, none of them seemed to mind any of it. She tried to remind herself that they had all been doing it a lot longer than she had, that they had seen everything a million times, that they had gone through the worst things she could imagine. It didn't help her feel any better.

She wasn't going to quit though, she could feel it in her blood, in her heart, that she was doing the right thing. That this is what she was meant to do, that no matter how many people died, no matter how many terrible people there were, she was saving someone's life.

And she was good at it.

She kept her head held high and tried not to show any hesitancy.

The night right after the case, one that had been particularly different from the others she’d seen, she felt practically dead on her feet. She wondered if she’d have to get used to the constant sleep deprivation.

It was late that night when she overheard Spencer talking to JJ, who looked about five seconds away from becoming the next unsub.

Y/N laughed behind them and wondered what he was talking about.

In the 6 weeks she’d been there she’d gotten close to most of them, she’d learned about their lives, about the way they worked best, she learned how smart they all were, how amazed she was by them. But she hadn't gotten the chance to speak that might to Spencer.

Maybe she didn't want to.

Maybe she didn't want to feel herself slip under the coworker crush that she was familiar with, maybe she didn't want to learn about him, things about him that she would think about constantly, maybe she didn't want to get close to him in fear that someone might notice how taken back she was by him, maybe she didn't want her brother- and her boss -to find out about the crush she had on him.

Maybe.

Maybe all she wished for was some relief from the overwhelming feelings she felt for him.

She was thinking about him, thinking about ways to accidentally eavesdrop on the two of them without looking suspicious, when JJ noticed her.

“Oh hey, Y/N” JJ looked exactly how Y/N felt. Her eyes were practically closed.

Y/N pretended not to notice the way Spencer looked away from her.

“Hey,” she said quietly, giving a little wave as she walked to the elevator doors. Home. That's where she wanted to be.

“Spencer was just inviting me to a movie he recorded at his apartment that he was going to watch-” JJ said, as Spencer tried to interrupt her, she just gave him a stern look when he tried. “-but I need to get home to Henry, so maybe you could go with him instead?”

There was a gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her mouth, if Spencer and Y/N both weren't so obvious they would’ve known what she was doing.

The team had been trying to set them up for a month.

Y/N just stared confused, nerves running up and down her spine reminding her to breathe. She suddenly felt wide awake.

Spencer just looked conflicted.

‘Um- yeah” he cleared his throat, running his hands over his hair and down to his neck “yeah- you could come... Yeah.” he said, moving to glare at JJ for a moment, JJ who was smiling wide, knowing that Spencer would never take back the invitation- especially not for a pretty girl.

“Oh.” Y/N jumped in surprise, her heart was beating faster at the prospect of going with Spencer, and while she knew that he had not technically invited her, she still felt her body practically shout with excitement. “Yeah, of course, I’d love to.” she stopped for a moment trying to collect herself, trying not to look as surprised as she felt, “if it's alright with you.”

They all stood there in the elevator, listening to the quiet hum of the machinery, two of them looking awkwardly at the ground, both of them full of nerves, one of them smiling between the two of them.

As the elevator finally came to a stop Spencer spoke up again.

“Yeah, if you want I could- you could just- follow me… if you want.”

Y/N nodded quickly, not used to Spencer talking to her directly.

JJ smiled just a little bit wider, just a little, and waved them both goodbye, turning around before saying “I’ll let you both deal with that.”.

She couldn't wait to tell Penelope.

And then there were two.

Two, very socially inept, nervous, people.

***

Spencer's apartment was just as Y/N had expected it to be, it was small and warm, and there were a million lamps all around the space. It was filled to the brim with bookshelves, at least 5 of them all around the room making it look smaller than it was. In the corner of the room there was a small couch and a tv, Y/N could see books spread all over the coffee table, and multiple mugs sitting around the room.

It felt like his home.

Y/N adored it.

Though Spencer looked around nervously, his eyes uncomfortably noticing all of the things he’d forgotten to pick up, all the books he’d left out.

“So um- this is it.”

Y/N giggled a little at that.

Her car ride over there had been filled with doubts and insecurities, she had noticed how distant Spencer had been with her, how little effort he had made to get to know her. Out of all of her new friends he was the least welcoming.

She still felt drawn to him. She still felt like she needed to get to know him.

It was the craziest feeling.

On her way over she had decided she would get to know him, just so she could count herself as a friend, just so she could start looking past him, start looking at everyone else instead of constantly being focused on him.

“Okay. Do you have popcorn?” Y/N said breaking the silence they had been surrounded in.

It earned Y/N her first smile.

She was amazed.

She wanted to keep making him smile.

Spencer gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen while he put a bag of something- which she assumed was popcorn as she had asked -in the microwave. It felt just a little bit more comfortable now, almost like they weren't going to have the worst time together.

“So uh- how are you um-” Spencer cleared his throat, clearly out of his bounds. “How are you enjoying the BAU? I knew that- um- when I first started I was really nervous.”

Y/N felt a bit darker at his words. Did she tell him how she really felt, about the doubts she’d been having? Or did she lie through her teeth? Lie to the man who had given her his first smile, lie to the man who had invited her over?

Turns out she didn't have to answer that question, as Spencer answered it for her like he did most questions.

“Oh no. Did I- um… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry I didn't mean-”

“What?” she said quickly “No you didn't say anything wrong…”

Spencer stared at her, waiting for her to continue, he felt like she had more to say.

“It's just I… I don't know I’m just not-” she threw her hands up and sighed, surprised by her own reaction, she didn't want to throw all of her problems at Spencer, especially when it was their first time even having a full conversation out of work.

“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, trying to read her body language to gauge her reaction.

“I just-” she sighed again and put her head in her hands. “I can't explain.”

Spencer nodded. He just stared at her a little bit longer, he had read somewhere that if you leave silence between conversations, most of the time the question would be answered all on its own.

After a couple of seconds waiting he could clearly see this wasn't the case with Y/N.

“Okay. What if I ask questions… and you answer?”

Y/N looked up, “like an interrogation?”

Spencer smiled a little bit and nodded, he was glad she seemed open to the idea.

“Okay.”.

They spent the night like that, Spencer had learned all about Y/N just through asking questions.

The movie was forgotten.

Y/N had come clean about her worries, about her hesitations with their job, Spencer had practically pulled the truth out of her after seeing past all the empty answers she gave his questions.

It was infuriating how much he could read her.

Eventually, they had switched, and Y/N had asked the questions for a little while.

She had learned about Spencer's mom, had learned about his love for all things sweet, had learned about his favorite books, and had learned a lot more about practically everything than she ever had in school.

It was almost addicting.

They switched back and forth for hours, eventually moving to the couch, asking each other questions and laughing.

It was almost two in the morning.

Earlier Y/N had felt like she was going to fall asleep standing.

Now she felt wide awake.

She thought about how the morning would turn out, how much they both needed sleep, and eventually said, “I should probably go.”

The smile Spencer was wearing fell just a fraction of an inch, and Y/N immediately felt terrible.

“I think we both need some sleep.,” she said, trying to communicate that she didn't actually want to go, but she definitely didn't want to fall asleep at her desk the next day.

Spencer walked to the door and smiled.

He smiled.

She wondered how hard it was going to be to stay away from him now.

***

“Aaron she was going to die!”

“Y/N, you can't throw yourself into situations like that.”

A year later she had no doubts about her job.

No hesitations.

Nothing but the need to save as many victims as possible.

Cases in Virginia were always the most stressful, with Strauss breathing down their necks, the media wanting to know everything about the FBI that was located in the state.

They all hated it.

They much preferred to go out of state, somewhere with none of their families, none of their problems constantly chasing them down. It was always so much calmer when they weren't home.

Always so much easier.

And maybe running directly into danger wasn't the best way to relieve stress.

Y/N knew that.

But she also knew how scared that girl must have felt, she knew how deadly the gun in the unsubs hand was, and she knew that it was her job, not just as an FBI agent, but also as a person, to do something. To do anything to save a little girl's life.

She wasn't going to stop to think about her own life in a moment like that.

She had rushed into the house, rushed into the place where so many other little girls had died, rushed into the place with a man almost three times her size, a man who was holding a gun. She wasn't going to risk that little girl's life.

And she was fine, and that little girl was alive.

To her, that was worth more than a million praises from anyone.

It wasn't enough for Hotch though.

The minute they had gotten back to the office, the second Y/N had tried to sit down at her desk, the minute she had tried to say anything to Spencer, that was the minute Hotch pulled her away, furious, into his office.

She already knew she was in trouble.

He had sat her down, he had repeated exactly what he had said when she arrived at the unsubs house, alone, he repeated his exact orders to her, repeated the orders that she had deliberately disobeyed.

“Aaron. She needed my help!”

“Y/N you can't risk your life! And you definitely can't ignore a direct order.”

Both of them had scowls on their faces, and at that moment they looked exactly like siblings, looked so similar it was hard to tell them apart.

The rest of the team was sitting in their desks, listening to them fight, pretending to be filling out late reports, but mostly listening to the two siblings fighting.

Garcia was standing outside the door, waiting for something to happen. She didn't want anything bad to happen to her best friend. She didn't want them to fight at all.

Spencer nervously looked from the door to his desk over and over, waiting for one of them to walk out, waiting for the yelling to continue. He knew that his girlfriend was probably freaking out internally, trying to control her anger as she had to do many times with her brother. He knew that what she needed right now wasn't a reprimand, what she needed was reassurance. He had no idea how he could get that to her.

“Aaron. I am good at my job. I got her out of there. Safely.” Y/N said sternly, refusing to back down, even for a moment, refusing to admit that what she did was reckless, refusing to admit her life meant anything more than that little girl.

“But at what cost Y/N? What if you had gotten hurt-”

“I didn't.”

“Or died? What would that mean for us?” He asked, looking at her, his eyes hard and unmoving.

Their stubbornness was always something they had shared.

“Aaron. I knew what I was doing. I had to save her.”

“It was reckless Y/N.”

“Maybe it was. Maybe, it was. But I’m fine, she's fine, we’re all fine.” she reassured him by gesturing to the door, why didn't he understand that she couldn't not go in there?

“I can't have you acting like that. I can't have you not listening to my orders.”

“Is that what this is about? Me disobeying you?” Y/N asked in shock, shock because it almost felt like he was trying to control her, trying to show her that he was still older than her. “Because news flash Aaron, I’m not some little kid you’re in charge of anymore.”

“I’m your boss.”

“I had to do it!” she said finally.

“It was stupid. It was stupid and reckless, and I have no idea what you were thinking.” His words were final and stern. His face was angry, and he was clenching his fists. It looked like he wanted to say more but Y/N wasn't going to let him. She wasn't going to let him call her names, and treat her like she wasn't an adult.

Y/N was done, she was done trying to be calm, done trying to keep all her feelings hidden deep in her chest, done trying to pretend she didn't want to throw something at him, she was done.

“I’m not a little girl Aaron!” she yelled at him, walking away. “I can take care of myself, and I know what I’m doing. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it's good enough for me.”

And she threw open the door, too angry to care about Penelope who was standing shocked in front of her. She rushed to her desk and started throwing things in her bag, mumbling under her breath.

“Y/N?” Someone said from behind her.

She sighed.

“What Spence?” she said quietly, feeling like giving up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing her arm and trying to get her to look at him. If she looked at him he would know how she was actually feeling, without having to guess.

She looked up and studied his eyes.

“He's being ridiculous!” she whisper-yelled looking back down at her desk. “I did the right thing and I’m fine. He's just mad because I didn't listen.”

Spencer watched her for a few moments.

“Maybe he's right,” he said quietly, his eyes looking worried and surprised, surprised because he hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes looked deadly.

“What?” she said quietly, more quietly than she had been in the past 10 minutes.

“Y/N I just think that-”

She cut him off. “No Spencer. You’re supposed to take my side. You’re supposed to have my back. Jesus-” she said sadly grabbing her bag from her desk and throwing it over her shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re supposed to support me.”

“Y/N I do I just-”

He couldn't get anything else out.

“You’re supposed to support me,” she said desperately, giving him one last look, one filled with anger and doubt and sadness, and all the feelings she had no idea how to express, she gave him one last look and

She walked out the door.

***

Driving was a helpful coping mechanism.

Driving helped Y/N ease her mind. Helped her think things through.

She knew she shouldn't have yelled at Aaron and Spencer like that, she knew she had overreacted. And she knew that to some degree they were right.

She hated how protective both of them were.

She loved how protective both of them were.

It was a difficult car ride, she was doubting herself, doubting her instincts, doubting her efficiency as an agent, doubting if her brother and boyfriend believed in her.

She knew she overreacted.

But Aarons words had hurt, he had insulted her, and even if he’d had reason to, it still hurt her feelings.

Spencer was a different story. She’d automatically assumed he would agree with her, would agree that the little girl's life was worth more than any risk, would agree that Hotch was being harsh.

She’d forgotten how angry he could get when she ran right into danger.

She was driving and her palms were sweaty, and her stomach was being attacked by anxiety, and she had no idea how to talk to either of them.

All she knew was that she had to.

She had to get over her feelings, she had to think about them.

So she drove back. Slowly. As slow as she could go, but she drove back.

When she parked her car she felt like turning around, she felt like a little kid again about to go tattle on her brother to her mom, felt like she was the victim and the abuser all at once, and felt an overwhelming amount of emotions fill her to the core.

She walked inside. It took her a moment to remember how to get back to her desk.

It was irresponsible for her to leave in the first place.

When she walked through the doors of the BAU you noticed Spencer's absent desk, she noticed her other coworkers staring at her, their eyes a bit hopeful. She looked at them confused.

“Reid went to the bathroom. Don't worry pretty girl, he didn't leave.” Morgan said, reading the question in her eyes, watching her exhale in relief.

She smiled at him and walked towards Hotch's office.

She had been gone almost 2 hours, and technically she knew that everyone could have leftover half an hour ago, but she also knew all of them, and she knew how late they’d stay.

She knocked on her brother's door, regret pooling at her stomach, air filling her head.

There was a quiet “come in” from the other side.

She peeked inside his office, saw him scribbling on a piece of paper, and as soon as he looked up Y/N felt a million times smaller. She always felt smaller when she was in trouble. Though when she looked at her brother's eyes all she could see was relief.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, looking back down at his papers, clearing his throat, clearly a sign that she could come in.

So she did.

She walked over to his desk and sat in one of his empty chairs. She watched him write for a minute, thinking of something to say, thinking about all the times she’d had to apologize to him in the past.

“Aaron.”

“Hmm?” he said looking up at her again.

“I’m-” she paused, paused, and took a deep breath. He deserved an apology. “I’m sorry.”

She saw his jaw twitch, saw a flicker in his eyes, saw a drastic change in posture.

“I know,” he said.

She sighed in relief. She knew he wasn't mad anymore.

“I know I overreacted. I know it was stupid what I did. I won't do it again, I just- I just had to do something. That's all.” She hoped that was a good enough explanation, hoped it would make him forgive her, hoped her mistake could cost her in the future. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his reaction. She hated apologizing.

“It wasn't stupid,” Hotch said, putting his pen down. She looked up at him slowly.

“What?”

“It wasn't stupid. I’m sorry I said that. I understand what you had to do.”

More relief, making its way up her feet, and into her stomach, relief filling her chest with cool air, seizing the fire of anxiety in her chest. Sweet, sweet relief.

“But that doesn't mean you can ignore my orders” He added, and Y/N felt herself smile. He was teasing her, she saw a glimpse of the brother she used to- still -idolized.

“Sir, yes sir,” she whispered, moving to stand up. She had another person to apologize to. As she walked away her brother spoke again,

“Y/N?” she nodded, looking back at him. “Don't be too hard on him,” he said gesturing outside, where Spencer was back at his desk, staring at the bag on top of Y/N’s.

She smiled at him and looked over at her brother. “I won't.”

She almost walked away again “Aaron, you should go home.” he looked back up at her “go say hi to my nephew for me. “

And with that, she walked out the door, walked away too fast to see him smile at her.

The relief was invading her brain, making her next decisions for her.

She would have to thank it later.

She walked out the door and over to Spencer's desk, Spencer who looked surprised she was actually there.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“Hey-”

She kept pulling him, moving both of them into an empty storage room, while the rest of the team laughed at her antics.

As soon as she made it into the small space with him, as soon as he looked down into her eyes, his face entirely a question, her nerves entirely seized.

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer frowned at her. He frowned and opened his mouth in a silent question.

“I’m sorry for overreacting. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. It was unfair.” She said, searching his eyes for forgiveness.

They didn't fight often, barely fought at all, but every time they had she had always found the answer to her problem in his eyes. His eyes seemed to know everything.

She wondered if they knew how much she loved him.

“No, Y/N I should’ ve-”

She pulled him into a kiss, resting her hands in his hair as he moved his to her cheeks, as she held her apart as she kissed him, her lips an entirely different apology of their own.

Sweet sweet relief.

When she pulled back, just enough to see his face, she watched him sigh in bliss, watched the tiny smile on his face, watched his eyes open with amazement.

She wondered when she had last kissed him like that.

It seemed like too long.

She pulled him back in, giving him small pecks on his lips, and then his cheek, and then his neck. Smiling at the way he giggled when she tickled him with her hair.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment, his voice warm.

She looked back up at him to smile, to smile and peck his lips once more as an answer.

“I think I’d like you to take out your anger on me just a little bit-”

She cut him off with a kiss.

Sweet sweet relief.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Text

Yandere La Squadra: Poly Edition

Content Warnings: Stalking, Abduction, Mild Non-Con Touching, (Consensual) Pregnancy

For longer than you would probably guess, La Squadra has had a bizarre pact. Should anyone in the group find themselves in a stable relationship with a likeable person, they have to try and convince the individual to date the rest of the team as well. As comical and innocuous as this originally was, it soon morphed into a morbid acceptance that, should the right situation arise, La Squadra would abduct a civilian to become their joint romantic companion.

To La Squadra, this would only seem practical. It is only natural for them to desire companionship but, with the exception of Sorbet and Gelato, none have been able to find it so far. Furthermore, a partner outside of the team would bring risks, creating a 'back door' into La Squadra a rival team or gang could use to infiltrate them. For all those involved, the safest thing to do would be to make La Squadra's lover disappear completely, hidden safely within the walls of the hideout.

Regardless, after remaining in the back of the team's mind for a number of years, their pact is suddenly brought to attention again when one of them, it doesn't matter who, meets you. Taken at once by their attraction to you, they inform the rest of the team and, one by one, each of La Squadra's members take turns observing you. From the point that all nine of them agree they have a liking for you, your fate is sealed.

The task of taking you is kept for Risotto and Prosciutto. Between them, they are confident they can abduct you cleanly without causing you unnecessary harm or leaving evidence. They render you unconscious for the journey back to the base, thinking it would be best for them to deal with your fears after you're safely in your new home.

As you lie unconscious in Risotto's bed, he locks you in the room and calls a squad meeting downstairs. This is mostly to reiterate the rules: no crowding you, no touching you without your permission, and no giving you major extra privileges (e.g. time outside) without running it by him. After that, everyone is dismissed to their rooms, and told to wait until they're called before coming to see you.

After waking up in a panic, any attempts to run will be quickly stopped by Risotto, who is more than capable of keeping you restrained by himself. Once you've calmed down enough to listen, he explains to you very carefully why you're here, and that no harm will come to you no matter what. All they want is a companion, and in exchange, they will give you safety and happiness.

For the first couple of weeks, the only people allowed to be around you unsupervised are Risotto, Prosciutto, Sorbet and Gelato. Being the elders of the group and the most sensible, they can trust each other not to overstep your boundaries, or let their guard wane around you so you can slip away. You are traded between the three of their rooms from night to night. Later, you'll be switching between everyone's bedrooms on some sort of agreed schedule.

Risotto and Prosciutto are the first ones you bond with. Despite their intimidating appearances they were the ones to answer most of your questions early on, and ward off the others when they over step your boundaries. It's usually them you go to when you get overwhelmed and need a moment of quiet.

Sorbet and Gelato are the ones to take care of you. If you shut down and refuse to eat or otherwise look after yourself, it's them who calmly usher you into the kitchen to see what can tempt your fancy. You're a little scared of them because of all the stories you've heard, but to you, they are only ever gentle. It may seem strange that an established couple would show as much interest in you, but the truth is they love you as much as everyone else does.

Pesci and Ghiaccio are the friendly ones. They aren't as protective of you as Risotto and Prosciutto (it's this inability to stand up to the team that means you aren't allowed to sleep in their rooms early on) but they're always very calm around you. You find it hard to believe Ghiaccio supposedly has the temper everyone says he does, because it's never come out when you're around.

Formaggio, Illuso and Melone are the hardest to get along with. They bend the rules, always wanting to caress your arm or kiss your cheek without asking, and their 'jokes' always leave you blushing in the bad sense. The others always tell them off for this. On the other hand, these three are also the most lenient with your rules, always sneaking you gifts or even letting you use their phones before Risotto formally gives you internet access.

In the long term, La Squadra would very much like to have children with you. There are frequent disagreements about how many (ranging from Ghiaccio and Illuso's bid for 'one' to Melone's bid for 'ten') but everybody agrees they'd like at least one. If you aren't able to become pregnant or you absolutely cannot be persuaded to do it, they are okay with adopting a child, who will most likely end up being the first kid under 3 whose parent ends up on their hit list. Otherwise, they would very much like to get you pregnant for the experience of watching you go through the process.

If you aren't a particularly parental person, don't worry. With 9 partners to share your burden you won't have to take on any more responsibility than you're comfortable with, and will be supported in every stage of the pregnancy and childrearing. Honestly, they are just grateful to you for being with them and letting them have this family at all.

Don't be fooled, their pursuit of a lover doesn't mean La Squadra has abandoned their other goals. They still crave the power they're owed and, and whether it be through gradually rising through the ranks or taking the syndicate by force, they will obtain it. Soon, you'll find yourself sharing in their new lives of luxury, everything you've ever wanted now a request away. The best part of their newfound success is seeing you happy.

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Guarding Your Heart (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: THE ENDING WAS PURRRRRFECT i'm gonna miss tfatws sm. I don't know if on the raft they allow inmates to be visited but let's imagine it: you visiting zemo for the first time since he was sent there, a little angst cuz you can't have skin-to-skin contact anymore but you two talk about some things and how life is going, if everything is okay 🥺🥺🥺 (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Inmate: Helmut Zemo. Accommodation: The Raft. Visitors: Generally prohibited. Exceptions: Maintaining a friendly relationship with an Avenger.

Words: 3,547

Warnings: angst, jail (is that a warning?), fluff, feels, my emotions, I didn’t use any pronouns!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Countless attempts from your side had been ignored. You were an average citizen. No superpower, no higher-up. Ordinary. It appeared that the Raft did not think highly of such people. Not when they proposed to visit an inmate. And definitely not when said inmate was the same Baron who broke out of a high security jail in Germany. But he was yours. His imprisonment in Europe had not been as restricted. For his sake, you had moved to the other end of the world. Simply so you could spend a bit of time together every day. Your old life had been completely abandoned. And for almost ten years, Germany had been your home. Until Sam & Bucky entered your lives once again. Though you started off on the wrong foot, this time around, you were more than grateful for their presence. Without them, especially without the former Winter Soldier, Helmut would still rot away in that tiny prison cell. Your time together had been adventurous. Often hazardous. Life threatening. In the end, you made it out alive. Coming back stronger than ever before.

It could have been a fairy tale. A long awaited fulfillment of a seemingly impossible dream. Were it not for the Wakandans crushing your reverie at the worst place imaginable. The Sokovian memorial. Where you held one of his clothed hands in both of yours. Shedding tears, remembering his old life. His wife. His son. You would never replace them. At the same time, you did not even intend to. His past was part of him & made him to the man you loved endlessly. Bucky did not receive your blame. Were you mad at him for handing Helmut over to the Wakandans? Absolutely. Then again, the super soldier was the reason why he was out of jail in the first place. It was a fine line between resentment & gratitude.

Luckily, throughout the various missions you had been a part of, you gained Sam’s trust. He took a liking in you & when he saw you struggling, he was eager to help. Obviously, the Raft yielded when the Captain America himself transmitted an inquiry. Only a few hours passed & you were on your way to Helmut’s current accommodation. A small jet that had been arranged just for you. In this instant, you did not feel average anymore. For a second, you experienced what it would feel like to live this kind of lifestyle. The one of a Baron. Why you were still unfamiliar with that even though your boyfriend was rich? Truthfully, you did not touch his money at all. It was his & when he did not have access to it while imprisoned, you did not dare using it either. Loyalty. Of course Zemo suggested utilization for you but you declined politely. After reasoning enough, he swore he fell even harder for you. The staunchness of you was remarkable.

It was bizarre. Entering the Raft with multiple workers circling you. You were told that these were the security measures that had to be met if someone wanted to visit an inmate. To you, it sounded like a poor excuse but you would not speak that thought out loud. Prisoners needed social contact. Physical contact could not be provided, that much you understood. But one would go insane without having the opportunity to see another human being that was not a guard working here.

Your body was a mess. Heart hammering at your chest with such a force, you believed it would burst any second. Irregular breaths left your lips. Trembling hands fiddled with each other in order to prevent others from noticing. Weak knees that threatened to no longer stabilize your body weight with each step you took forward. To bystanders, you probably appeared as a put-together person. On the inside, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. How would you react? How would he react? Would you have privacy? An audience? Observers? Innumerable questions flooded your mind. Seemingly, having only one purpose. To drown you. To drown every bit of you. But you would not succumb that easily. You were so close to where you wanted to be. The fight could not end now. Disappointment would cloud you. More importantly, it would cloud him.

Four guards. It took four guards to guide you through the facility. To your surprise, the insides radiated a calm, almost content atmosphere. The walk lasted an eternity. At least, that was what it felt like. Your Helmut occupied a cell at the very end of the building. No explanation had been given to you as to why they decided to accommodate him there. Maybe, with Sam’s assistance, you could change his quarters & move it further up to the entrance. That way, if you visited again, you would not have to waltz through every narrow hallway. Listening to the whimpers of some inmates. The screams. The bashing. The…pain. There was only one person here who you were familiar with. Helmut. The others? You had no idea what crimes they implemented to end up at a place as dark as this.

“He’s at the end of that corridor.” one of the guards motioned for the others to leave you alone. His hand gestured to a tall white door that had a small built-in window. Your sight was obstructed by the frosted glass of it.

“Will you join me?” you questioned, wanting to prepare for it if he had to accompany you.

“Generally, yes.” he breathed out, putting his hands in the pockets of his uniform. Then, he sighed quietly & eyed you once more. “But since it was requested you speak to him alone, I’ll leave you be.”

“Whose request was that?” your eyebrows furrowed. The Raft was not an institution for exceptions. At first, the mere thought of getting to see Helmut again was an impossibility.

“Captain America’s.” he stated monotonously. The way his face scrunched up made it obvious that he was less than pleased about this decision. As soon as you were out of here, you had to call Sam & thank him for making this feasible.

“Oh.” it was all you could muster at the moment. There was an overwhelming feeling you had to handle. And it was not exactly one of your specialties.

“The door is unlocked. Walk down the hallway & the cell will come into view. If something happens, there’s an emergency button that should be operated whe-“ you stopped him during his speech.

“Thanks for your concern but I’ll be just fine.” a genuine smile formed on your face. The guard nodded at you, still slightly uncertain, & turned around without another word. Letting the uncomfortable silence envelop you. Your legs were frozen in place, preventing you from running to him. Maybe it was the thought of having to say goodbye again. As wonderful as it was that you were allowed to visit him, the concept of abandoning him broke your heart. The difference between the jail in Germany & this one was that you could not linger close by. The trip lasted for a while. Daily visitations were out of the question.

Slow but steady steps moved you over to the door. A hand raised to the doorknob. The coldness of it grounded you the slightest bit. You had to take a few deep breaths, just like he had instructed you multiple times before, in order to reduce the fast, almost unhealthy pace of your beating heart. Your hand twisted the doorknob to one side & when you heard the lock click, you pushed the door open with your entire body weight. Otherwise, you would have been too weak to do so. Bright lights had you squint your eyes. A hand was used as a shield to block most of the luminosity. When your eyes adjusted to the different setting, you straightened your back & brushed non-existent dust from your clothes. This motion gave you something to do with your hands. It was a much needed distraction. You held your head high, looking straight forward to the very end of the corridor. At the sides, the walls were painted bright white. Almost too bright for your liking. It resembled a hospital & you had never enjoyed them. The consistency of it was broken with the glass wall you were staring at. The one which was straight ahead. His cell, you figured. But there was no silhouette you could make out. Considering the size, you should have noticed him already. But he was not there. So you no longer moved in slow motion but jogged over to the pane.

Fast footsteps echoed in Helmut’s ears. Time was fluid in a jail like that. But it had not been long since a guard brought him breakfast. Whoever visited him now, it seemed to be urgent on the basis of the fast pace they approached. He scooted closer to the frigid wall behind his bed. Something he did to mess with the employees here. At least it gave him something to do. Besides reading tons of books & listening to the radio that had been prepared for him. That was luxurious enough for an inmate. All of a sudden, it was silent. Too quiet for his liking. The next thing he heard was music to his ears.

“Helmut?” your broken voice whispered & filled the room. Was he turning hallucinational? Nobody would blame him in a place like this. But not even his imagination could recall your softness so perfectly. He stood up, carefully, & widened his eyes at the sight of you. There you were, on the other side of the transparent wall. Separating the outside world from the box he found himself in.

“(Y/N)? You’re here.” no time was wasted. Helmut dragged his body as close to yours as his cell allowed him to. One of his hands touched the smooth surface & you mimicked his actions. There were tears threatening to escape but you tried everything to keep them locked inside. “Don’t cry.” the volume of his voice had lowered. Nobody could listen to you in here but it almost felt illicit to talk at a normal volume.

“I’m sorry.” you chuckled shortly, your free hand coming to your face to wipe at your cheeks. How he wanted to be the one to touch your tender skin. To have you lean into his palm.

“What are you sorry for?” the proximity was given yet unattainable. Your gaze averted, staring at the pavement floor.

“I don’t know…For everything?” you shrugged your shoulders, laughing at how incomprehensible you sounded. Helmut shook his head. That was how he knew you. Always being the one to carry everyone’s burden on your own. Though you did not need to.

“Stop that.” it was an order but not a forceful one. One that eased the tension immediately.

“Okay.” you mouthed.

The floor was everything but comfortable but you made do. Sitting cross legged opposite of Helmut was dreamlike. In your dreams, you had skin-to-skin contact but that delight had been denied. Simply having him next to you was enough for now. Helmut had his elbows on his knees, watching your every move. Reminiscing every small detail he could get a glimpse of. But there was nothing new he came across. He remembered you like the back of his hand. Sometimes even more precisely than you did yourself. And yet, his observation resembled the first time when his warm, chocolate brown eyes fell onto your frame. Usually, you handled his stares well but something inside of you told you to inquire.

“What?” you asked with a playful, teasing tone. His eyes locked onto yours. You giggled at his confused state.

“Is there a problem?” Helmut turned insecure for a second. And people who knew him were aware that he was barely ever uncertain.

“No, not at all.” you shook your head to emphasize your words. “Just…you’re staring.” you called him out. It made him laugh, his head falling back briefly.

“Is it forbidden to stare?” one of his eyebrows perked up. “I believe most people are flattered by the attention.” though he played the serious act quite well, you could tell that he was joking.

“You’re awful.” you laughed at his antics.

“I am aware.” he saw you opening your mouth to disagree with him but Helmut was faster. “(Y/N)?”

“What is it?” you rested your intertwined hands in your lap. But he had noticed the trembles. He had noticed you struggling. And he realized that it was because of the position you were currently in.

“How is it like? Outside, I mean.” he skillfully changed the topic before the atmosphere between you two could shift in a negative way.

“You have a radio.” your finger pointed to the one sitting on a small table inside the cell right next to a stack of read-through books. “I’m sure you have an idea of what it’s like.”

“But I would love to hear it from you.” there was an encouraging smile on his lips that you could not resist, no matter what.

“Well, Karli’s dead. Sharon took care of her.” you began & watched him nodding approvingly. “Bucky finished his amends & it really looks like he’s doing much better. He’s taking baby steps but he’s doing well.” you could not suppress the small smile when you spoke about the super soldier. Helmut was not jealous. Bucky & you had become fast friends over time.

“Could you deliver a message from me?” he continued after a hum from you. “Tell James that I am happy for him. And thank him from me.” that warmed your heart. All of the previous disputes aside, they had started tolerating each other. You would not go as far as calling them friends but what was not could still be.

“I will.” you promised with certainty. “Right, um…Sam is Captain America. This job is made for him. I truly believe, with him, we’ll achieve great things.” you quieted down, not exactly knowing how to continue.

“So you established Sam’s & James’ success. But what about you?” he read you too easily. No other person saw through you like he did. That affirmed the close bond you two shared even further.

“What about me?” a phony dumfounded expression was plastered on your face.

“How have you been doing?” it was a question with so much emotion & care hidden beneath, it brought tears to the corners of your eyes instantly. Your attempts to blink them away were gratuitous. They started rolling down over your cheeks. So fast, in fact, you could not even wipe them away with your sleeves in time. Helmut’s heart broke at this sight of you. It was clear as day that you experienced a rough patch. The cause of it was him being imprisoned, that much he knew. “Talk to me.” he whispered & cursed the guards for not granting his partner access inside his cell. But they thought he would plan another escape. At the same time, they were unaware that he would not take the risk to jeopardize your safety with a second try.

“It’s…” you took a deep breath to steady your voice & avoid the wavering & cracking. “It’s been hard.” you admitted quietly. “Without you.” you finished. Your eyes flickered up to his face. His look brought you the tiniest bit of contentment. The way his body language could comfort you in such a way was prodigious.

“Love.” the nickname gained your entire attention. It was like all of your worries melted away by the simple sound of it rolling from his lips. The tears did not stop but they were mixed with happiness now. Gratitude that you shared this moment with him. You were here. Helmut was here. Similar to how it used to be. Yet, entirely different. “Please look at me when I tell you this.” & you obeyed without a second thought. “You are my world. If I could change this situation, trust me that I would instantly. I understand your struggles. And I abominate that I cannot dispose of your demons. Or make them part of my own. Your pain causes me aching ten times worse. It is painful seeing you like this. My love, you must promise me one thing.” it was hard for him to get through this speech without his voice fading at the emotions he was experiencing. But he had to stay strong for you. It would only cause you more distress if you noticed him showing how affected he truly was.

“Anything, Helmut.” your reply followed straight after. If he asked you for something, you would do your very best to make him proud of you.

“Promise me to take care of yourself. I would hate to watch you disappear because of me.” the sincerity assured you how important it was to him.

“Helmut, I don’t think I coul-“ he shushed you when he spotted what you were intending to do.

“Promise me, my love.” he repeated & you closed your eyes briefly, releasing another wave of tears.

“I promise.” your eyelids slowly opened & you could detect the relief in his at your words.

“How did you persuade them into visiting an inmate?” the atmosphere had shifted to a relaxing feel once again. And his attempt to start another conversation was welcomed.

“I didn’t do anything. Though I’ve tried multiple times…Sam came to my aid.” you chuckled at the memory & the excitement you emitted after his call. The news had been the best in a very long time.

“Ah, of course, if Captain America requests a visitation…” Helmut started.

“The chiefs are on board in an instant.” you finished his sentence & the both of you laughed at the tomfoolery.

“Means that Sam is the reason for your stay.” you confirmed his thought process quietly. “Please express my gratitude for him as well.”

“Will do.” you wanted to maintain the dialogue with him but a loud noise from behind you caught you by surprise. The same guard who had instructed your appropriate behavior inside these hallways was back. There was a look on his face you could not quite identify but it left you uneasy.

“Time’s over.” the statement felt like someone stabbed you with a knife. Not once, not twice. Multiple times to cause as much damage as possible. Helmut then stood up from the floor, gesturing for you to do the same. The moment you were on your feet again, your knees were close to giving out. Digging deep inside, you mustered all the strength you had left & fixed your posture. You did that to avoid radiating a fragile appearance. “Bid your goodbyes, I’ll wait by the door.” the guard took his place in the doorway, waiting for you to approach him. Your body faced Helmut’s & you rested both of your hands on the glass in front of you. He mimicked you & if it were not for the transparent border, you would have touched.

“I’ll miss you.” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against the boundary.

“I will miss you more.” he followed right after. “But you are always here with me.” one hand rested above his heart. Goodbyes were difficult. Especially with the ulterior motive of not returning the following day. It would most likely take a while until you would face him again. Secretly, so nobody could discern what you were doing, you pulled a small paper out of your pocket & pushed it through one of the many, tiny holes in the glass wall. It dropped to the floor on the other side. Helmut sent you a questioning glance which you retuned with a soft, gentle smile. Coughing behind you brought you back to reality. You had to leave. As much as it hurt, you turned your back to Helmut & distanced yourself from his cell. Arriving at the exit, you looked over shoulder one last time. One last time, your eyes locked. One last time, you let your tender features speak. One last time. While you walked away from him, he picked the small paper up from the ground. Unfolding it with much care, his eyes got stuck on three little words that were neatly curved in your handwriting. So when your eyes met, he returned that favor without anyone realizing it. His lips moved & you saw him mouthing that same phrase back. Your smile grew wider, as did his. And then you were gone. Of course, you would come back. And with Sam’s help, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He stared at the door where you just walked through. His gaze then turned to the paper in his hands. Never would he let go of it again. He would treat it like it was made out of gold. To him, it was. And it was worth so much more. The feeling it triggered inside of him could not be purchased. It could only be provided by a special someone. That special someone was you. Reading through the note one more time, he sat down on the uncomfortable mattress. The displeasure was ignored for now. For a minute, he bathed in the loving emotions you brought to him.

“I love you. -xo(Y/N)”

Published (05/09/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e, @simply-skeletons, @weareironmanbitches, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @takacsgram, @ya-boi-is-dead, @deamus-liv, @therenlover (thanks for your support <3)

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callivich · 3 years

Text

I love the idea of time travel and I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here’s a little time travel story! Reworked this so it’s slightly different and longer! Planning on a part two soon.....

———

Ian had been standing in the kitchen of his and Mickey’s new apartment. He had been about to make some coffee and take it to his husband who was still sleeping. Everything had been normal and fine - he’d been idly thinking about what they were going to do that day. It was Saturday and Mickey had, the night before, demanded not to be woken early, but other than that, they had no plans. Maybe a dip in the pool? It was sunny, but not too warm, which was good because the slightly cool weather meant less people in the pool.

And, just as he was imagining swimming lazily in an empty pool with his husband, it seemed like he blinked and the whole world had shifted sharply. He felt dizzy and his vision swam, his body felt weak and he collapsed against a nearby wall, trying to catch his breath. It was like no feeling he’d ever experienced.

Blinking furiously, he noticed something alarming - he was not leaning against his kitchen wall, he was somewhere else. Somewhere he never thought he’d ever go again. Somewhere it was impossible to go again, but he recognised it immediately. The Milkovich house. He glanced around at his surroundings, struggling to understand how he could be standing outside Mickey’s old bedroom. What the fuck?? Was he dreaming? Or, worse, hallucinating? If he was dreaming or hallucinating, it was the most realistic thing he had ever experienced, there was nothing dreamlike about it. Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered - the signs on Mickey’s door, the dirt covered carpet, the dimly lit hallway - it even smelled the same - that stale mixture of smoke, beer and sweat.

It was too much - this situation he found himself in, it couldn’t be real, and yet, apparently it was. He felt a sharp burst of panic, his chest felt tight, and he reflexively clenched his hands, trying to calm himself. It was then he realised he was holding something. It was heavy and solid in his hand, and as he stared at it, it took him a few seconds to understand what he was seeing - it was a tire iron. And then everything began to click into place - he noted his worn, hand-me-down clothes and when he reached up to feel his hair with his free hand, his fingers found bangs. An overwhelming feeling of familiarity washed over him, he remembered these clothes, he remembered holding the tire iron and he remembered why he was holding the tire iron. Most importantly, he remembered this day. It was the day that everything changed between him and Mickey - the stolen gun, the fight, the sex - and he was in his teenage body. Shit.

Ian didn’t know what to do. This was impossible. There was simply no way it was possible. And yet, here he stood, years in the past. His mind began to race with possibilities - should he leave? and go where? back to the Gallagher house? or should he stay here and wait to see what happens? would anything happen? would he blink and be back in his kitchen? or was he stuck here in the past forever? He wanted to go home, to his apartment with Mickey, he wanted his husband. Mickey. A thought occurred to him - maybe Mickey, his Mickey, was here too? Not that would automatically fix everything, but at least Ian wouldn’t be alone. He stared at the door, he needed to know either way - either Mickey was also, somehow, here in the past, and they could figure this out together, or he was about to run into angry, teenage Mickey, who perhaps didn’t hate Ian as much as Ian had assumed at the time, but was definitely not his friend.

He paused outside the door, and as he took a deep breath, his hand tightened on the tire iron - unsure if he should just leave it on the floor. He definitely wasn’t going to hit Mickey with it, but if it was teenage Mickey in there, then Ian hoped the sight of the tire iron would stop Mickey from hitting him. Ian pushed open the door, and softly shut it behind him with a click. There was Mickey, laid out on the bed, face down, asleep, just as Ian remembered. It was bizarre seeing this again, at the time he had no idea how this day would change his life, but here it was - the moment that their lives began to become entwined.

This wasn’t the time to reminisce though. Ian gently, much more gently than he had done so originally, poked Mickey in the back with the end of the tire iron. Perhaps too gently, because Mickey didn’t move. This was promising - teenage Mickey was a light sleeper, but in the safety of their apartment, adult Mickey had began to sleep heavily, and Ian hoped that the fact Mickey didn’t move immediately meant that this was his husband.

“Mickey. Wake up.” Ian moved closer to the bed, and tapped him on the back with his free hand.

That did it, there was an annoyed groan, and Mickey turned his head, so Ian could now see his dirt-smudged face, but didn’t open his eyes, only muttering a tired, “No.” This was different to what had happened before, but Ian still wasn’t sure if this was his Mickey or teenage Mickey.

“Wake up.” Ian tried again, this time giving his shoulder a shake.

“Fucks sake, Ian, it’s the weekend....I wanna sleep in.” Mickey mumbled, sleepily. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, just reached out a hand, and when he didn’t feel anything but an empty space, he continued, “Come back to bed.”

It seemed like Mickey thought Ian should be in bed with him, and relief flooded through Ian. This was his Mickey! Now he just needed to actually wake the fuck up.

Feeling more confident, he sat down on the bed next to Mickey, dropped the tire iron on the floor, and ran a hand down his back. “Mick. Open your eyes. But don’t freak out.”

“What am I gonna freak -” And then he was speechless. His eyes were finally open and he looked at Ian in shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know.”

Mickey’s eyes darted around the room, back to Ian, down at himself, and then settled on Ian. He reached a hand out to touch Ian’s face softly, running his fingers over the freckles. “Fuck. What’s going on? How...”

“I don’t know?! I was in the kitchen, I was going to make coffee, and then suddenly I was here and shit, I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating, but this is all so real. So it must be real?” The words tumbled out and Ian was so glad that he wasn’t going to have to deal with this alone.

“I don’t....the last thing I remember was going to bed with you.” Mickey sat up, and swung his legs around to sit close to Ian. “This is fucked up. It’s fucking impossible.” He ran a hand down his face, before turning to stare at Ian again in disbelief. And Ian couldn’t help but do the same back - he still couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Ian broke the silence, they couldn’t sit here staring at each other all day.

“Shit. I don’t fucking know.” Mickey frowned for a moment, as if considering something and then pinched Ian on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“In case it’s a dream.”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself.” Ian grumbled, as he pinched Mickey on the arm. “There. Feel real?”

“Hardly felt that, but yeah.” He looked around his room. “So, I guess we’re in the past. That means -”

Mickey didn’t have time to finish his sentence because the door opened and a ghost entered. Or rather, not a ghost, someone who was very much alive. Terry. Mickey instantly tensed up, his hands balling into fists. Terry made his way into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Ian didn’t think, he just pulled Mickey close, hugging him tight.

“Fuck. Shit.” Mickey let out a shuddering breath. “Ian, we can’t.” He moved away reluctantly. Ian felt his heart clench but nodded, shifting away to the end of the bed. Of course they couldn’t hug, not here, not now. Fuck. Ian wanted to punch the wall. Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t fucking be here, man.” He jumped up and threw on some more clothes and some shoes.

Terry stumbled back out of the bathroom, and Mickey froze, his eyes wide, still unbelieving of what he was seeing. He kept staring at the door after Terry left. It was surreal seeing Terry alive, walking around like normal. And if Ian thought it was surreal, he couldn’t imagine what Mickey was thinking. Or rather, he probably could guess. His mind drifted to thoughts of Monica - she was alive here, what would it be like to see her again? Would he felt strange? Horrified? Upset? And Frank....shit, Frank had only just died, but right now, he was alive.

He pushed the thoughts away, they needed to leave. This was all too confusing. Mickey had only just finally come to terms with Terry’s death and this....this fucked up situation was only going to cause him pain. And Ian was still going through some pretty strange and surprisingly upsetting emotions about Frank’s death, it was all still so raw. Neither of them needed to be confronted by their dead fathers (did anyone ever?), especially not so close to said fathers deaths. The room felt too small, too hot, Ian knew they needed to leave. It was impossible to think here.

“Let’s get out of here.” Ian tugged on Mickey’s hand, squeezing it gently, before dropping it.

“Where?” Mickey questioned, shrugging on a coat.

“One of the abandoned buildings? At least then we know we’ll be alone. And we can try and figure out what we’re going to do.”

Mickey gave a whispered “yeah” and flung open his bedroom door, hurrying towards the front of the house, causing Ian to jog behind him to catch up. He was about to reach him when Mandy appeared. Ian’s stomach did a pleasant flip when he saw her - he’d missed her so much and here she was, looking exactly the same as he remembered. He fought the urge to hug her tightly.

“Ian? Are you ok?” Her eyes searched his face curiously, like she could tell something was wrong. But that was stupid, Ian thought, even if she could, she would never guess it was that Ian and Mickey had somehow time travelled from the present back to the future.

“Uh...yeah. I just...” He couldn’t help it - he glanced at Mickey who had paused by the front door, looking over his shoulder at Ian. “I gotta go home.”

“Ok. But-”

“Everything’s fine, Mandy. I’ll see ya.” He could hear the tremble in his voice and he could tell from the slight frown on her face that she was concerned. She looked back and forth between Ian and Mickey, her eyes narrowing and noticing Mickey’s hand on the door. “Where are you going, shithead?”

“Out.” And with that, Mickey practically flung himself through the doorway and made his way onto the sidewalk. Ian waved a hand in Mandy’s direction, wishing he could explain to her but knowing he couldn’t, and headed out, shutting the door behind him. He felt guilty brushing her off, but Mickey was his priority.

“Mick.” He called out as he caught up. He bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s and they began to make their way to one of the more isolated abandoned buildings, both knowing which one they should go to. They walked in silence, both of them struggling to make sense of where, and when, they found themselves. So, it was no surprise that neither of them noticed the figure that followed them.

——

Ian watched Mickey as he climbed the old, battered stairs in front of him, he could see the heavy tension in his shoulders. It was familiar but not something he had seen in awhile. Mickey was relaxed and happy, most of the time, they were finally settling into the West Side and things were good - safe and stable - and their days were filled with kisses and laughter, they just were enjoying being together. But, now, they had been thrown backwards to a time when things were dangerous and unstable and complicated.

There was a splintered door, which Mickey kicked open with his foot. He sighed heavily and Ian grasped his hand, leading him towards one of the walls. They sunk down onto the floor, backs against the cold brick. Ian moved to cuddle Mickey close, but it was awkward. He was used to being able to hold Mickey easily, but here, now, as they were a similar height, it was different. He had never had the luxury of being able to hug or be close to Mickey like this back then, so he wasn’t used to trying to hold him like this. Eventually, with some fumbling, they managed to find a good angle. Mickey slumped down a bit, and Ian put his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, they were pressed close, and Mickey threw one leg over Ian’s, and rested his head close to Ian’s neck.

“This isn’t fucking fair.” Mickey whispered. “What the fuck is this shit and why is it happening to us?”

“I’m scared.” Ian replied, using his free hand to grab one of Mickey’s. “What if we’re stuck here?”

“Your meds.” Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand. “What are we going to do about your meds?”

“I don’t....” Ian faltered. He hadn’t even considered that. What was he going to do? He hadn’t been diagnosed back then, now, so what did that mean in terms of his illness? The fear that had been bubbling under the surface suddenly began to overflow. What the fuck was he going to do? “I don’t know. Shit. Mick. I don’t-”

“We’ll figure it out.” Mickey put his free hand on top of his and Ian’s clasped ones. Ian wanted to believe Mickey but he didn’t feel convinced, and as confident as Mickey sounded, Ian could hear the worry.

“Ok. Yeah. We’ll figure it out. But, what are we going to do, like right now? We can’t stay here tonight.”

“I can’t go back there. I can’t see-”

“I know. I know. We’ll stay at my house.” Ian cut him off before he could say his father’s name. It felt strange saying that - my house - because it wasn’t, not anymore. His house, his home, was the apartment he shared with Mickey.

“And how the fuck do we explain that? And what about Frank? You gonna be able to deal with seeing him again?”

“Don’t care.” He heard Mickey snort. “I don’t care Mick, you’re my fucking husband, and I love you and we need to-”

“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is this?” A shocked voice cut through the air, startling both of them.

Ian and Mickey jerked their heads up at the same time to see Mandy standing in the doorway, a look of complete and utter disbelief on her face. They had been so wrapped up in their problem, that they hadn’t noticed her following them or heard her making her way up the steps of the building. They slowly disentangled from each other in a way that Ian noted would not have happened in their teenage years. Mickey would have shoved Ian off back then, but now, he was so used to not hiding or feeling afraid that he didn’t. As much as Ian would like to focus on the growth Mickey was showing, he knew he couldn’t. Because right now, the stakes were too high.

Ian’s heart pounded, he knew they needed to say something. He could trust Mandy. He had done so before. But fuck, there was so much more he knew in hindsight. So many more terrible, violent things that he knew he could not let any of them go through again.

Which is why he blurted out the first thing he thought of, “It’s cold. We were cold, so we were just warming up.”

Ian didn’t need to look at Mickey to know he was probably rolling his eyes.

“Cold?” Mandy folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Thank fuck I’m not a cop Ian because you would not last-”

“What the fuck are you doing here? You follow us?” Mickey interrupted. “Go away.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Mandy pushed off the wall and walked to towards them. “Ian, what’s going on? I thought you and Kash-”

“Fuck him.”

“Shut up, Mickey. I’m talking to Ian.”

“Mandy, please. This isn’t what it.....can you just forget you came here? Please? And please don’t say anything. To anyone.” Ian pleaded. He needed her to go. He loved her, and he loved seeing her again, but fuck, this was not the time. He couldn’t think with her here. All he kept thinking of was when Terry found him and Mickey - that horrible morning that always made his stomach churn when he thought about it. He didn’t think Mandy would tell. But in that moment it felt like it was too much - someone else knowing - he just couldn’t handle it right now. He just wanted to be with Mickey. “I’m begging you, Mandy. Please.”

Mandy bit her lip, in the same way Ian had seen Mickey do a thousand times. She looked back and forth between them, uneasy and suspicious, Ian realised he had tears in his eyes and he could see the exact moment Mandy noticed. “Fine. But you owe me an explanation Ian. And so do you Mickey.”

“Yes.” Ian breathed in relief. And he watched her turn on her heel and leave. They stood in silence until they were sure she was gone.

“So, what now?” Mickey pulled Ian close, his arms winding around his waist.

“Maybe if we fall asleep, we’ll wake up back home?” Ian hoped more than anything that would be true.

“Thought you were awake when you came here. Back? Now? Whatever.”

“I was but....who the fuck knows right? It’s worth a try.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But we can’t sleep here.”

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #headcanon #as always feel free to continue this or add to it!!#I think this idea would be great written by someone who is good at multi-chapter fics #I’m not great at that #so very happy if anyone wants to take this idea and do their own thing with it #or remix it or use parts of it #btw sorry but I’m probably not going to continue this #but they definitely get home safely

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tenspontaneite · 3 years

Text

The Ceracurist (Chapter 3/?)

Even after these past months, she wasn’t yet used to it. Another Full Moon spent alone.

(Chapter length: 10.4k. ao3 link)

---

“Did you go to the game night?” Was Ethari’s first question when she called him the next day.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Ethari.”

He looked delighted. “Did you make friends?”

She hesitated, thinking about it. “…Well, I did beat them all at Antiquitora,” she said eventually. “And you were right, they did appreciate that.” She paused, and added “I’m probably going back, I think.”

She spent the next ten minutes having details pried out of her so warmly and kindly it hardly felt like an interrogation at all. Ethari was good at that. Finally she secured her escape via the need to leave for training, and was farewelled with considerably less fretting than usual. When the call dropped, she was about to shut down the Sunbeam module entirely, but then-

New Contact Requests, said the alert in the corner. Rayla blinked, nonplussed, and opened it, already having a decent idea of what she’d find. Sure enough, there were three new requests from codes she recognised: Kazi, Nihatasi, and Callum. She lingered there for a while, feeling bizarrely overwhelmed, then finally accepted all three of them.

She didn’t linger by the computer, after that – she had training to get to. Rayla paused at the door to perform a final once-over of her armour, then grabbed her swords and left.

---

Rayla stumbled back into her room in late afternoon, covered in about three different kinds of mud and her body aching all-over in the aftermath of prolonged exertion. She spent the next two hours with rigid discipline: cleaning herself, cleaning her armour, checking her weapons. She cooked unenthusiastically and ate, then finally felt justified in utter collapse. She landed face-first into her bed and fell asleep immediately.

Three hours later, she woke to a stirring of magic in her veins, prickling over her skin, all the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, and pushed herself up; every hint of soreness from training was completely gone. She turned her eyes to the window, staring at the Moon rising full and resplendent past the horizon. Something deep and instinctive in her delighted at the sight of it. But something else twisted, sharp with the pang of homesickness.

Even after these past months, she wasn’t yet used to it. Another Full Moon spent alone. She sighed, and tried not to think of the festivities that would surely be beginning back home. It was moonrise; Ethari and Runaan would be at the Circle by now. Had the dancing already started? With the Moon this high, it must have.

She stared unblinkingly out of the window, turning thoughts over and over in her head. It wasn’t right to be alone at Full Moon. It wasn’t right to spend it all indoors, either. She couldn’t do much about the first thing, but the second…

Silent, Rayla slipped outside. A few of her wingmates were out in the common room, chattering drunkenly with each other near the table. She blinked, slowly, and exhaled. When she passed, they didn’t see her; only started with surprise at the open and close of the door. She crept through the streets like a ghost, visiting each of the parks and training grounds in turn until she finally found one unoccupied: a small stand of well-kept trees, and a fountain that reflected the full body of the Moon in its burbling waters. It would do.

It was no Circle. There were no runes in the ground – nothing here that awaited the careful precision of the lunar dances, nothing that would light up at her passing. But it was better than nothing. Rayla pulled at the moonlight until she was nothing but shadows flickering in the shadows of the trees, and danced.

There were plenty of moondances that could be done alone, and she circled the fountain with all of them, one by one. A tracery of magic hummed in the air at her passing, whispers of light following her; magic summoned by her motions, without the guidance of a Circle’s shaping. Even formless and aimless, it was beautiful. So, for the pleasure of it, she spun through those motes of moonlight and held them flickering in the shadows of her skin; light and dark woven together.

When she was done, she felt…not joyous, maybe, or exhilarated, as a celebration back home might have left her. But she was satisfied. Calm, and a little less sad. With the Full Moon still high above her, its magic brimming in her veins, Rayla headed home once more.

She didn’t bother to hide herself this time, and when she came through the door and passed by the remaining wingmates still up and awake, they saw her perfectly well: skin night-dark, eyes glowing, the edges of her form blurring into the shadows. They were all of them Sunfire and Skywing, and went a little quiet as she went by them; she wondered if they’d ever seen one of her kind at Full Moon before. Somehow, she doubted it.

Finally, Rayla arrived at her door, disarmed its security, and closed it behind her. She sighed, standing for a moment in the moonlight through her window, and considered it. Sleep would be a lost cause for another few hours, probably. So, somewhat inevitably, she ended up checking the computer. Browsing the mageskein was probably the best way to kill a few hours, and it wasn’t like she had anything else to do, this time of night.

Except: her Sunbeam module was still on, humming inside its casing, and…when she looked, it had projected a few message alerts onto the screen. Hesitantly, she checked them.

One was from Ethari, wishing her a good Moon, and entreating her once again to visit a Circle for it. Somewhat belated, that. One was from Kazi, confirming the time of their rematch tomorrow, as well as the address. Nihatasi had sent another, packed with effusive praise for her gaming excellence, insistence that she return, and an offer to come by the house whenever she wanted. Rayla shook her head at that, reluctantly amused. It wasn’t as though she’d met many nomads before – not in a social setting, anyway – but so far, Nihatasi more than matched their reputation for being aggressively sociable.

The last message was from Callum, and she steadfastly pretended that she wasn’t any more interested in it than the rest. He’d cheerfully thanked her for coming to the game night, said he hoped she’d come again, and then made an inquiry about her gaming tastes. Did she play computer games? If so, which were her favourites?

With the slow, halting uncertainty of the socially awkward, Rayla responded to all of them except Ethari’s. Kazi’s was easy enough, she just had to say ‘thanks’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. The other two took more doing. To Nihatasi, she expressed her thanks, and her assurances that she intended to come to a game night again. She said nothing about the house visit. To Callum, she reiterated her intentions to return, and admitted that, yes, she did like computer games, but hadn’t had the opportunity to play many of them, for lack of the necessary modules or a computer with the right specifications.

Given the hour, she certainly didn’t expect any response, so she switched active modules to the mageskein to start browsing. News headlines on the home site vied for her attention: something about the outcome of the latest Katolis-Evenere expedition into the wastelands; the most recent public appearance of the Dragon Prince with his esteemed parents; a gossip piece about some Katolian royal’s birthday. She checked the second one for images, and sure enough, there he was: the young prince Azymondias, still tiny in comparison to his queen mother…and, in the background, a few Dragonguard standing at the ready. Rayla spotted her parents and smiled. She clicked to transfer the picture through its Sunbeam link and waited.

The other module hummed, her computer making distressed noises as it attempted juggling the inputs of Sunbeam and Mageskein at once. The unit at home wouldn’t have had any trouble, but this one…she sighed, and waited, and was eventually rewarded when her Sunbeam successfully imported the image and displayed it full-fidelity, with all the depth and nuance of lighting that a flat picture could never convey. She filed it away, and was about to switch back, when she saw the alert.

A new message. At this hour? It had to be at least two in the morning by now, surely. She checked her clock to be sure, and, yep. 2:14am. She eyed the icon with consternation, then opened it.

Callum had responded. She stared, brow furrowing as she read. Hey, glad to hear back from you! He opened, cheerfully failing to acknowledge the fact that it was currently stupidly late. The rest of it was perfectly normal too; commiserating about her lack of access to proper computing, commenting that yeah, I didn’t get to play any EX games until I moved here, and you know what WX graphics are like, and which ones did you get to play? Any I’d know about?

Rayla reread its entirety several times, mildly flummoxed. At Full Moon her emotions were all closer to the surface than usual, so there was an undeniable thread of glee in her chest about this unexpected late-night contact, but…well, she was curious. In her limited experience with the ways of other students, the only reasons a non-Moonshadow would be up this late would be ‘partying’ or ‘insomnia’. Or ‘last-minute coursework’, but that was unlikely to apply when term was already over. So: You’re up late, she wrote, without thinking about it, and sent it back without responding to any of his actual questions. She’d begun composing a belated second message, but apparently Callum was a lot speedier with typing than she was.

Haha, yeah, I kind of lost track of time. Gaming, incidentally. She thought he must be used to significantly faster systems and transfer times than she was, because that was the entirety of that message, and then he sent another one: What about you? What are you doing up?

Rayla blinked, then settled herself a little more comfortably in her chair, since it seemed like, well. Like there might be a conversation happening, here. She brought the keyboard further forward. It’s Full Moon, she responded to him, a little dryly. Her computer took its sweet time about sending the message, as usual.

Oh. It is? After a pause, during which he presumably looked out of a window or something, he said Huh. So it is. Does it keep you awake?

She paused. Kind of, she wrote, slowly, and then wasn’t quite sure how much more to divulge. Eventually, she wrote It’s kind of hard to sleep through when it’s still high. I’ll be okay in a couple hours.

That must be so cool, he answered, which seemed a weird thing to say to a statement of Moon-induced insomnia. I’ve used artefacts to cast moon-magic before, but it must feel totally different when you’ve got the arcanum. What’s it like?

Rayla stared at her screen. She recalled the implications of him being a mage student, and was suddenly brimming with curiosity. I don’t know, I’m not a mage, she wrote, and then paused. Do you cast a lot of artefact magic, or was that a one-time thing?

She probably should have just outright asked about the mage student thing, rather than trying to be cagey about it. He probably wouldn’t have minded. Except, that turned out to be unnecessary, because the next thing he wrote, as if it were perfectly natural and unsurprising, was Well, I’m doing a thaumaturgy / thaumatology masters, so I definitely cast a lot of magic, yeah. Then, while she was still gawping at that, he followed it up with Listen, do you want to call?

What? She sent back, astonished, still in the middle of trying to process the concept of a human thaumaturgy student. She couldn’t quite get her head around it. How did that even work?

It’s okay if you don’t, he clarified. But your Sunbeam seems to have kind of a lot of connection lag, so it’d probably be faster to talk, you know?

Rayla was, in fact, using a fairly old edition of the Sunbeam module, which did have to establish a new connection for every individual message it sent and received. It was what was cheapest, and the lag was just…an unavoidable side-effect. She called more often than she messaged anyway, so it was rarely relevant. Except, apparently, now. It’s two in the morning, Callum, she sent to him, bewildered.

And we’re both awake, he pointed out, as if it was perfectly reasonable to call someone you’d only met twice before in the middle of the night.

Her first instinct, fuelled by bemusement and social anxiety, was to say no. Her second instinct was quick to the scene, with some very definite opinions about interacting with Callum, even at as weird an hour as this. She hesitated, wavering.

In the end, it was a glance at the Moon through the window that decided her. Rayla was emphatically not a mystical person, but even so, there were things that were deeply culturally ingrained. And one of those things was Full Moon is community time. Family, or friends, or a wider community – it didn’t really matter, but you weren’t supposed to be alone. This…probably counted.

Yeah, okay, she typed in the end, foot tapping under the desk with a frisson of tension. But only for a bit.

He didn’t waste any time about it, just sent the call request. Rayla took a quick moment to check she hadn’t made a mess of herself dancing, realised it was something of a moot point when everything attached to her was veiled in shadows, and finally accepted the call.

Callum’s room was startlingly brightly-lit when it appeared in the monitor, and it hurt her eyes a bit. She blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to squint, and glimpsed what looked like a well-appointed loft room with an unexpectedly dense population of easels. She could see at least three of them, most of which occupied by some sort of paper or canvas. She blinked, nonplussed, then steadfastly did not react when his face came into view. It moved around jarringly as he adjusted the lightcatcher, then finally settled.

He grinned at the screen, looking sleepy but in good enough humour, and said “Hey! Wow your room is dark.”

Rayla opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked. “Oh, right, your eyes,” she said, embarrassed. She generally only ever called her family, whose night vision was perfectly equal to hers. Humans, as well as most other elf races, were not nearly as well-suited for the dark. “Can you even see anything?”

“I can see your eyes,” he volunteered helpfully, looking amused. “They’re glowing. Really brightly, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s the Full Moon,” Rayla told him, already standing to go for the switch of the wall lamp over her desk. She’d never actually had cause to use it before, other than testing it when she first moved in, so the soft blue light it produced was almost wholly unfamiliar. “Is that better?” She asked, moving back to her chair.

“Well, I can actually see your room now, so-“ he started, then cut off abruptly as she settled back down in front of the lightcatcher. “Oh, wow,” he said instead as he stared at her, eyes wide.

Rayla ignored the self-conscious twinge in her stomach and frowned at him, folding her arms. “What?” she demanded.

He startled, as if only just realising what he’d said. “Oh. Um, sorry?” he attempted, weakly. “It’s just – I’ve never seen a Moonshadow elf all, er…” he waved expressively at her, contrite. “You know, Full Moon-ish?”

Oh. She eyed him, determined that he wasn’t messing with her, and relaxed a little. “What, not even in the Honour Games?” She asked, after a moment.

“Well, I mean, sometimes. But that’s usually in broad daylight, you know, and from a distance, and broadcasted.” He shrugged, a light dusting of pink rising in his cheeks, like he was embarrassed. “Kind of different to…” he nodded to her via the lightcatcher, smiling sheepishly.

“Suppose it is a tad different to a close-up Sunbeam call,” she conceded, lips twitching.

“I should’ve expected it, really, considering it’s full moon and everything,” he said ruefully. “Sorry, I’m not exactly at my brightest at two in the morning.”

Oh, that was right. It was the middle of the night. She squinted at him. “Then shouldn’t you be sleeping, instead of sunbeaming random Moonshadow elves?”

“Well, you’re up,” he said, as if this was a perfectly logical reason for him to be awake too. “And it’s not like I have to be up early.”

Lucky for him. She thought of the training and the Antiquitora rematch she had scheduled for the day, and suppressed a sigh. It was sometimes truly inconvenient to live in a mixed-race city that didn’t automatically expect the day after Full Moon (and the day of and before New Moon, of course) to be a rest day. “Wish I could say the same.”

He winced sympathetically. “Can you not cancel whatever it is?”

She opened her mouth to say no, stopped, and frowned. She hadn’t yet missed training even once. But…it wasn’t like attending every session was compulsory. And she did train three other times a week…and besides, a Sunday morning short session had never fallen on Full Moon recovery day before. “Probably, honestly,” she admitted. “My – uncle wouldn’t even tell me off for it. Moonshadow elves aren’t supposed to work the day after a Full Moon.”

“Because none of you can get to sleep the whole night?” He asked with interest, as if the cultural habits of her kind were genuinely intriguing to him. “Makes sense, I guess.”

Rayla huffed and shook her head. “Kinda. Mostly it’s because, traditionally, we’re supposed to spend moonrise to moonset with – family, or the community, or whatever. And we’re not much good for anything except collapsing once the Moon’s gone. So we all take the next day off.”

He blinked at her curiously, but if he wondered why she wasn’t currently out spending the Moon with her rightful community, he was tactful enough not to ask. “You should skip your thing, then. Whatever it is,” he determined, after a moment. “Get some actual sleep.”

“Says you,” Rayla said, wry. “You don’t even have a stupid magical reason to be up this late.”

“Does a technomantic game count as a stupid magical reason?” He grinned at her, his smile lopsided and full of humour. Her stomach did a weird flip-flop. “I mean. It is magical.”

Despite herself, she snorted. “And it is stupid,” she allowed, lips twitching. “As far as reasons to be sleep-deprived go, anyway.”

“Worth it,” he claimed, cheerfully. “I don’t have work till the afternoon anyway, so I’m fine.”

Rayla nodded at that, then a moment later actually recalled what his job was, and practically felt her face heating. Thank the Moon – literally – for her skin currently being too dark to show it.

He noticed some sort of reaction, though. Maybe her shoulders had hunched a bit. He tilted his head at her, a little rueful, and said “Yeah, er, about that. I wanted to apologise, for the others talking about it, yesterday? Couldn’t have been super comfortable.”

Abruptly hyper-aware of the weight and presence of her horns, Rayla did her best not to sink into the chair. “…It’s fine,” she muttered, embarrassed. “It’s not like you told them about it, they just guessed.”

“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t tell them about who my customers were unless my customers said something about it first,” he assured her. “Not really professional, you know? We’re supposed to be confidential about it.” Suddenly, he smiled again. “Then again, it’s not like I usually end up meeting my customers at game night, so that part tends to be easier to manage.”

“Usually?” she asked dryly, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to lift her hands and hide her face behind them.

“No, yeah, you’re definitely the first time that’s happened,” he admitted. “It was kind of a surprise.”

She thought about how she’d reacted to seeing him appear through that door yesterday. “Just a tad.”

“A good one, though!” he claimed, cheerful. “It was nice to meet you properly.”

Rayla was tempted to say something along the lines of you know, where I come from, touching up someone’s horns is considerably more than a ‘proper’ meeting, but that was too mortifying to express, and he probably knew it anyway. She couldn’t imagine anyone becoming an experienced ceracurist without learning all the assorted implications that sort of thing had. “Even though I kicked your Archdragon across the board?” She questioned eventually, when she found her voice again.

“Even though you totally kicked my butt, yeah,” he agreed readily, looking far too pleased about it. “It was a great match. You’re crazy good at that game.”

An involuntary smile pulled at her lips. “Well, Kazi’s better,” she said, pleased despite herself. “They’d have had me easily, if they weren’t playing Ocean.”

He didn’t argue with her. Clearly, he understood the game plenty well enough to know the truth of that. “Still the second-best player I’ve met,” he insisted staunchly. “Is Antiquitora one of the computer games you said you did play? You must’ve put in some serious practice time.”

Rayla snorted. “I wish. No, the only games I ever actually got to play were on a gameship, just the one time, when I was…” she frowned, trying to remember. “Thirteen, maybe? Good long while ago.”

He perked up, expression brightening. “I love gameships,” he enthused. “There’s one that comes by Gullcrest twice a year, and I swear, all the students in the entire engineering department just disappear on board until it leaves. It’s crazy.” After a moment, he admitted “Well, to be fair, I disappear on board too, so, you know. It’s not like I can judge.”

She blinked, and leaned forwards. “What clan is the ship?” She asked, with considerable interest.

“It’s a joint management. Serat-Demani,” he said, watching her knowingly.

“Moon above,” she swore, and he grinned.

“Right?” Looking exceedingly pleased with her reaction, he took that as his cue to go into extensive, exacting detail about the wonders that a fully-stocked, state-of-the-art Demani entertainment airship had to offer. She listened raptly the entire time, interjecting with questions about the rates, the facilities, the games. If it was a Demani ship, it had to have Skycrawler, surely? What was it like? Was the gameplay everything it was said to be?

In the end, Rayla didn’t think she could really be blamed for losing track of time.

Callum was in the middle of enthusiastically praising Scion of Shadow, with particular attention to its unusually enjoyable stealth mechanics, when out of nowhere a yawn cracked through his sentence. He seemed fully ready to keep on talking once it was done, but Rayla sat up a little straighter, and for the first time in a while remembered that it was the middle of the night. She consulted her Moon-sense, and then the clock, and then buried her face in her hands.

He cut off mid-sentence, inquisitive. “What?”

“Callum, it’s nearly four in the morning,” she informed him, lowering her hands to stare at the clock, consumed with a baleful sense of having been betrayed by the passage of time. “The sun’s probably not even far off rising.”

He blinked, looked to the side, then blinked again. “…Huh,” he observed, a little sheepish. “Yeah, that’s…later than I usually stay up.”

“It’s later than I usually stay up, even on Full Moons.” Technically true, for the ones she’d spent at university. At home, though…moonset was, after all, later than sunrise in summer. Full Moon celebrations usually concluded once everyone’s skin was back to normal, but not always.

Callum shot her a weird look, long and appraising, before he spoke. “You’re still all…Moon-shadowy, though.”

“That won’t stop for a while yet,” she informed him, and shook her head. “I can probably get to sleep by now, anyway. Or another hour off, at most. You…” For a moment, she inspected him, spotting the signs of tiredness in his bearing. “You won’t have that problem, I think. You look knackered.”

He offered a rueful smile. “I’ll probably pass out the second I lay down, yeah,” he admitted. “I kind of lost track of time. Again.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, I’ll just go now, then, so you can’t get distracted again.”

Hastily, he sat bolt upright. “But there was something I wanted to-“

“Tomorrow,” she told him, firmly. “Or…today, technically. Later, anyway. Whatever it is can wait.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled sleepily at her. It looked far more endearing than it had any right to. “Well, okay then.”

Rayla nodded to him, said “Thanks,” then leaned in and shut the call down without a further word. Sunbeam’s active connection died down, Callum’s face disappearing from the screen, and she leaned back in her chair to fix the ceiling with a long-suffering stare.

On one hand, Ethari would’ve probably been delighted to hear she’d spent a couple hours of her Full Moon socialising, as a proper Moonshadow elf ought to. But on the other….Ethari could absolutely never, ever find out about this. If he knew she’d been up chatting with someone, losing track of time, for actual hours…she’d never hear the end of it. To say nothing of how he’d react if he got wind that she – that she might sort of-

“Ugh,” Rayla grumbled to herself, wiping a hand over her face.

She stared at the ceiling for a good long while, experiencing a variety of emotions that she wasn’t keen on thinking about too hard. She also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time thinking about the conversation, running it over in her head, thoughts stubbornly fixed on Callum. This was how she ended up realising that she’d never actually asked about the mage-student-thing, and she still had no idea how that worked.

“Ugh,” she said again, more emphatically, and finally left her chair. She left her room to perform some necessary ablutions in the bathroom she shared with the next room over, then returned to draw the curtains. Without the direct moonlight through her window, the magic in her skin started to stutter a little. In ten minutes or so, she’d be back to normal again…and, with luck, she might be asleep by then.

Begrudgingly, Rayla peeled herself out of her clothes and threw them haphazardly onto the floor, not even bothering to watch the magic desert them, and climbed into bed. A suboptimal amount of time later, she was asleep.

---

“Goodness, you look tired,” said Kazi, welcoming Rayla in. Rayla, for her part, was a little too exhausted to feel particularly awkward, which was nice. “Was the Full Moon particularly trying?”

Rayla’s lips twitched. At least this one knew when Full Moon was. “No more than usual,” she said dryly, bending to remove her shoes when Kazi made noises about it. “Just, you know, getting enough sleep is kind of a lost cause.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. Or at least somewhat,” they commiserated, leading her through to a small and cosy-looking living room lined with bookshelves, and then through to a somewhat larger dining room, whose table was…occupied. Very thoroughly occupied. Rayla tried not to look at it too closely until she had a chance to inspect it properly. “There was a solar flare a few years ago, and of course I and the other Sunfire elves couldn’t sleep for days. It was quite the experience! And I’m sure you know how the Skywing elves get when there’s a particularly powerful storm abound.”

She had, in fact, had occasion to see what Skywing elves looked like when they were storm-drunk. It had been funny, up until it got annoying. “Probably more of a pain for them and you, really, since none of you take anything like moondust,” she volunteered after a moment, mouth turning up with wry sympathy. She’d hate to be a Skywing and be subject to random, unpredictable bouts of their equivalent of being moonstruck. “You all get the full effect of it.”

Kazi looked a little curious at that, but didn’t ask. “Yes, I suppose so. We should be thankful our magical overload is not so consistent as it is for you. In any case-“ they gestured towards the table. “Please take a seat wherever you prefer! Would you like any stimulants?”

Rayla blinked. “…Could you repeat that?”

“Tea,” they clarified, eyes merry with humour. “Or perhaps reveillant, or coffee, by your preference. I have all three, in some measure.”

For a moment she’d wondered if she was being offered something illegal, which…looking at Kazi, she was quite sure had been on purpose. She shook her head, reluctantly amused, and said “I could try some reveillant? I’ve only had it once.”

“It is not especially common, in a Skywing city like this,” Kazi allowed, already heading in the direction of one of the doorways. They kept speaking as they disappeared through it, still perfectly audible to her ears. “But I always keep a supply. It’s the only one that tastes particularly good cold, after all, unless you are very creative with your teas.” There was the sound of a cupboard opening, and then a good bit of rummaging.

During the wait, Rayla cautiously selected a seat at the table and settled there, finally letting her increasingly wide eyes rove over the board set up across it. She was still gawping conspicuously when Kazi returned, brandishing three brown paper packets of what she assumed to be reveillant.

“Do you prefer unflavoured, citrus, or mixed berry varieties?” they inquired mildly, hiding a smile when they saw her inspecting the board.

“Er, berry?” Rayla offered, only half paying attention. She was too busy looking at the intricate detail on the hand-carved and probably hideously valuable Antiquitora board. There were no pieces on it yet, but even just the tiles…it was astonishing. All of the terrain had been dyed and varnished in different colours, with careful attention to the different biomes. It all gleamed. The ocean tiles had even been coated in some kind of resin, making them look wet. The artisan had even mimicked the effect of the edge of an underwater continental shelf seen from above, with an area of lighter ‘water’ closer to the ‘coastline’.

“Berry it is,” Kazi said, sounding quite smug. Rayla didn’t have the chance to see what their face looked like, because they’d already disappeared back into what she assumed was the kitchen. She spent the next five minutes of beverage preparation time inspecting the game board with undisguised admiration. Rayla wasn’t one to usually pay much attention to art, but…this was game related art. It was different.

“The set you brought to the game night wasn’t your one set, then,” Rayla finally commented, when Kazi reappeared. She accepted her cup with exacting care, not wanting to risk a drink spillage near a board like this. She was honestly surprised Kazi allowed drinks so close to this thing.

Kazi smiled, disproportionately small for the amount of self-satisfaction in it. “Yes, it’s my more portable set,” they said pleasantly, and took a seat across the table from her, setting down their own glass. “This one…well, I certainly do not take it out of the house.”

“I can imagine,” she expressed, uncertain whether to be jealous of the board or just plain impressed. She wouldn’t even want something this pricey. She’d constantly be worrying about damaging it somehow. But, even so…the hint of avarice remained. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The various tile-pieces and figures are quite a sight themselves, I think,” they said, evidently extremely pleased with themself. Rayla wondered how many people they invited round for Antiquitora for the express purpose of showing off this set. “Have you decided your faction for today? Once we have that settled, we can begin setting up.”

Rayla snorted, lips turning up into a half-smirk. “Depends what you’re playing as.”

Kazi beamed back. “Do you have a preference? I am perfectly open to suggestions.”

She considered it. Allegedly, Kazi was most beastly when playing Earth or Sun. Rayla herself was best at Moon and Sky…and Sky was exceptionally poorly matched against Earth. Sun’s best counters were Earth and Ocean. Moon wasn’t great against Sun, but not terrible either. “Take Sun,” she decided, eventually. “I’ll do Moon. I want to see for myself how much you wipe the board with everyone when you get to play properly.”

If Kazi had been smiling before, they looked positively frightening now. Not that their smile had widened, or anything; they just seemed to have a way of looking disconcertingly menacing while beaming pleasantly at you. “I will do my best to arrange that,” they said, and reached for three boxes: Moon, Sun, and the tiles and dice and cards.

Setting up would have gone more quickly if not for Rayla’s interest in inspecting the various gamepieces, and Kazi’s interest in flaunting them. Most of the units, from citizens to mages, were all carved in beautifully varnished wood. The Hero and Archdragon figures, though… “Is that gemstone inlay?” Rayla asked with disbelief, inspecting her Lunar Archdragon and turning it this way and that.

“The Lunar Archdragon has mother-of-pearl inlay, in fact,” Kazi said pleasantly. “And, yes, some very small gemstones for the eyes.”

She shook her head at that, half-impressed, half in disbelief. “Where did you even get this?”

“It’s an heirloom,” they elaborated, which made sense. The only other way for someone to have a set like this would be by being ridiculously rich, or by knowing an insanely skilled craftself. “Hence why it has the standardised continent shape. It does need fairly careful maintenance, though. I paid to have some of the varnishing redone recently, for example. But for me, the joy of owning a set like this is well-worth the upkeep.”

Rayla nodded. It wasn’t her sort of thing, personally, but she understood well enough. “I bet you try to get people over to play you every chance you get,” she said, amused. “With a board like this…”

“It would be quite a shame otherwise, yes,” they agreed. “I must thank you for obliging me! This board so rarely sees a high-level game.”

She huffed, amused, and kept unpacking the gamepieces one-by-one. Kazi had to know that they were the better player. If she’d barely beaten them when they were playing Ocean and underestimating her for most of the game, she certainly wasn’t going to win now. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Eventually, when everything was set up, they rolled the starting conditions and began playing. Kazi very obviously knew what they were doing with the primary advantages of the Sun faction – agriculture, population, and military might – but Rayla was perfectly well acquainted with a proper Moon playstyle as well. She leaned into the espionage and intrigue skillset as heavily as she could manage, wreaking political strife in Kazi’s territory wherever she found an opening. When Kazi could find them, her units died; but that certainly wasn’t always.

Even so, the outcome was something of a foregone conclusion. The game lasted a while, because Rayla knew that her main defence against the Sun armies was if they couldn’t find the Moon cities, and planned accordingly…but Rayla hadn’t succeeded in assassinating the Archdragon, and hadn’t managed to get the Sun citizenry to demand a leadership duel either. So, unsurprisingly, Kazi eventually managed to field an assault that broke through the illusory barriers protecting Rayla’s stronghold, striking at her Archdragon precisely on the turn before New Moon. It died of its injuries the turn later.

Rayla considered the board carefully after that. Her best chances of winning against Sun would be crop poisoning, Archdragon assassinating, leadership disputes, or revolution. She’d managed the first and had been making decent headway on the latter two, but, in the end…it wasn’t close enough. She smiled ruefully, and said “Moon concedes.”

They nodded, having expected that, and smiled beatifically. “It was a marvellous game,” they said warmly, already reaching over to begin clearing the pieces. “Thank you very much for it.”

“I don’t know, it was a pretty solid victory for you.” Her voice was dry as she reached out to help, handling each of the intricately-carved figures with care. “You’re obviously the better player, here.”

“Yes,” they agreed, neither modestly nor boastfully, simply as the fact it was. “But nonetheless, you are certainly the best player I’ve encountered in-person in a very long time. Certainly the only one I didn’t arrange to meet with beforehand. It was a good game, no matter that you lost it.”

Rayla dipped her head, smiling a little. It wasn’t like she enjoyed losing…but she’d appreciated the challenge enough to make up for it. She’d ceased finding any sort of challenge back home a long, long time ago. “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.”

Kazi reached for another piece, paused, then eyed her consideringly. “Would you…like to discuss it?” they asked, tilting their head, watching her.

She glanced up, surprised. It was hardly an unfamiliar concept. She’d watched enough matches broadcast on Sunbeam to know how it went; when two top-tier players concluded a match, they talked about it afterwards. They discussed each other’s plays and strategies, pointed out mistakes, considered where there was room for improvement…

The only after-game discussions she’d ever had had been at Runaan’s knee, when she was still small and didn’t know the game nearly as well. It was weirdly flattering to be invited to do it now.

“…Yeah,” Rayla said, eventually, and sat back down. “I’d like that.”

Kazi beamed like the Sun they’d just used to trounce her. “Very good.”

The next half hour involved more talking than Rayla thought she’d done at a time in months…or, well, she would’ve said so, if not for last night. It was certainly a good second-place contender though, and by the end her voice was feeling a little tired from overuse. They concluded the discussion, packed away the gamepieces and board, and then were done.

“But of course, you must stay for another drink,” Kazi said, and whisked her empty glass of reveillant away. “You liked the berry infusion, yes? Excellent, I will get you another.” Good to their word, they did precisely that, and returned in short order.

Rayla did feel a little more awake, on that second glass of the reveillant. It was effective stuff; as much or more so than coffee, with (in her opinion) a considerably better taste. She was debating the merits of asking Kazi where they got it when they spoke up first.

“You’ll be returning, I hope?” they said, and it took Rayla a moment to think of what they meant.

“….Here?” she guessed. “For a rematch?”

“Well, yes, naturally.” Kazi pushed their glasses up, smiling a little. “I had assumed as much. But, no, I was referring to the game society. You’d be an excellent fit, I think.”

Rayla blinked. “Oh.” She thought of the previous night, and hunched down a little in embarrassment.

“I know it was only a very small group when you visited, but I have the impression you prefer that, anyway,” they said, neatly demonstrating that they were as unnervingly good at reading her as she’d sort of inferred. “It can get rowdier in term time – at least at the official meetings. The meet-ups at our houses are much calmer – usually just the core group.”

“Which is?” Rayla asked, a little reserved now, if only to disguise the fact that she really didn’t need convincing. She might have, after just the Friday. But after this…after yesterday…

“Myself, Callum, Nihatasi. Usually Pava, but often he spends the whole time tinkering instead of playing.” They shook their head, amused. “In term time – well, usually I’d say to expect Evairas, but he is spectacularly busy these days, so perhaps not.”

“…They sent messages,” she commented, after a moment. “Callum and Nihatasi, I mean. Pava didn’t.”

“Pava tends to forget Sunbeam exists for weeks at a time, don’t mind him,” Kazi assured her. “Nihatasi and Callum though, I’m not at all surprised. Nihatasi adores new people, and Callum…” they eyed her, just a little speculatively. “Well, I think you impressed him. Has he invited you to Tuesday, yet?”

Rayla blinked with consternation. “Invited me to what on Tuesday?”

“Game meeting, at the house,” they clarified. “It’s hardly an official thing, but it’s often Callum’s house that has everyone over. He hasn’t invited you over, yet? Well, he will. I am quite sure of it.”

For a long moment, she looked into her glass and the dark red liquid therein, pondering it as if it held all the answers for how she was supposed to respond. “If you say so,” she said, finally, and lifted her glass to drink.

“I do,” Kazi claimed serenely, and gracefully changed the topic to (naturally) more about Antiquitora. By the time Rayla finished her drink, she’d learned that Kazi played broadcast games online fairly regularly, under a handle that she recognised; she’d watched a good few of their games before.

“Is there a story behind that skein-name?” she asked, undeniably curious now that she was acquainted with the elf behind it. “’Finguistician’.”

Kazi laughed, like she’d surprised them. “Oh, that,” they said, mirthfully. “It’s something of an in-joke. You see, I have my doctorate in Linguistics – specifically, in non-verbal linguistics. Various sign languages, Draconic Corpus, and so on. I made a joke once, when I was still an undergraduate in a sign-language module, that the course should be called finguistics, given, well,” they waggled their fingers at her.

She snorted, amused. “Did it catch on?”

“Sadly, no. But I do call my sign language classes for the public ‘finguistics’, and no one can stop me, because I am the teacher.” They giggled a little to themself. “Perhaps in time it will become a more widely-used term. I would like that; it would be very amusing. In any case, that is where the handle comes from.”

Rayla thought, for a moment, about a moment from the game night: Kazi and Callum had used some sort of sign language with each other for a second, hadn’t they? She considered asking about it, wondering what his background in that was. Did he take any of Kazi’s lessons, or had he learned some other way?

In the end, she bit her tongue and said nothing. After a little more idle conversation, she eventually made her leave, farewelled at the door by her cheerful host. Without the game to bolster her, she swiftly began to really feel her exhaustion. Stimulants or not, she was so tired that a headache was starting to pound luridly behind her eyes, almost enough to make them water.

She headed home intending to collapse back into bed and nap – if the lingering effects of the drinks allowed her to, anyway. Which was why she was considerably displeased to arrive back to find her wing busy and full of noise and various elves milling about. The halls were crowded. She was about to say “What the fuck”, or perhaps “Shut up, do you know how bad my headache is right now”, but before she had the chance one of the closest elves (some wingmate she didn’t know the name of) spotted her and shouted down the hall “It’s her, she’s here, she’s not dead!”

All eyes went to her, and an immediate chattering started up. Rayla stared, utterly nonplussed, fighting the urge to pull on the Moon and take advantage of a state of near-invisibility to just retreat to her nice, privacy-sealed bedroom. The noise cancellation ought to take care of this racket.

After a few seconds, a face she actually had a name for pushed forwards. It was Stavian, a Skywing elf from her bellatorium, still in armour from training. “Rayla,” he said, sounding very relieved. “Thank goodness, we were about to call for an official search!”

Rayla had no idea what was happening. “What in Xadia’s name is going on here?” she demanded, finally, and her irate tone seemed to remind him that he (for some reason) customarily seemed to be quite intimidated by her. He shrank back a little, and as he did, a few of the rest of the Honour Games team started to appear.

“You didn’t show up for training!” he said, defensively. “And from anyone else that wouldn’t be much of a big deal, but you’ve never missed a day before. And then when we went to check on you afterwards you weren’t here.”

“And none of your wingmates knew where you were,” added one of her teammates: Fiera, a particularly tiny Skywing mage with hair and feathers dyed a distinctive lilac colour.

Rayla stared for a few more seconds, then wiped a hand over her face. “It was Full Moon,” she said, very slowly, her patience already somewhere on level with the floor. “I didn’t get to sleep till around five; of course I wasn’t going to go to morning training.” She ignored the fact that, if not for Callum, she absolutely would have. He’d been right; it was completely reasonable to miss training on a Full Moon rest day, and if they had a problem with that they could bite her.

The vast collective of people assembled in the halls all looked very embarrassed, suddenly. And honestly, they should be. Moonshadow elves were definitely uncommon in Gullcrest, but surely someone should have known it was Full Moon, and made the obvious conclusions. “Oh,” said Fiera, weakly. Her wings drooped a little. “That…makes sense.”

Now looking very abashed, Stavian echoed “Oh.” The crowd of assorted wingmates and guests, probably attracted by the initial hubbub, started to grumble and dissipate.

Rayla sighed, and rubbed at her eyes, attempting to scrounge some sort of positive emotion from beneath her absolute crankiness at being confronted with a noisy group of people when she was this sleep-deprived. “Look,” she attempted, tiredly, “It’s…nice you were worried. I didn’t realise anyone would be looking for me.” She searched for something appropriate to say. “I’ll…put a note on my door, if something like this comes up again?”

Her teammates, four of whom had shown up, nodded contritely. “Sorry for bothering you on a rest day,” offered another of them, starting to shove the others towards the door. “We’ll see you for training tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Rayla looked longingly down the hallway, where her bed awaited. “I don’t exactly make a habit of missing training, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re very – dedicated,” Fiera said, in the tones of someone trying to be diplomatic, still being ushered doorwards. “Have a good rest day!” she called, right before the rest of them filed out and the wing became something approaching quiet again.

Too tired and too grumpy to have much emotional response to the whole thing, Rayla turned and headed down her hallway without a further word. The wing was still bustling, and it was more of a relief than usual to close her door on it; the privacy runes hummed lethargically as they activated, but the noise level outside cut off sharply enough that for once she didn’t mind their quality too much. They mostly did their job, and that was all she really needed.

It turned out that the effect of the reveillant couldn’t really complete with post-Full-Moon sleep deprivation; Rayla crawled into bed and fell asleep more or less instantly.

She woke some hours later, stirring at the sound of some computer module or other humming as it reactivated from idling. It wasn’t loud by any means, but she was quite sensitive to new or changing sounds in her vicinity, so it was enough. She blinked her eyes open, rubbing grit from their edges, and stumbled out of bed with a glance at the clock along the way. Moon-sense said it was late afternoon; the clock was a bit more specific about it, and said 6.33pm. The sky outside was still blue and light, but in that summer-evening way, where the sun had fallen low enough to cast long shadows between the city buildings. It was still bright enough to make her tired to look at.

There were new messages on her Sunbeam.

Rayla dropped into her desk chair and eyed the icon tiredly, uncertain if she was awake or rested enough to deal with any further social contact today. In the end she decided there probably wasn’t any harm in checking them, so…she looked. Kazi had thanked her for the game, and sent her some sort of invitation to make an account on…what looked to be the skeinsite that hosted the high-level Antiquitora broadcasts. She wasn’t sure what the purpose of that was, and didn’t have her head on sufficiently to figure it out, so she left it for later. Ethari had asked how her Full Moon had been. And…

She sighed, not sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed, because: Callum had left messages, too. Fairly recently, actually.

They read Hope you got to sleep okay, and how are you feeling? There was no mention of whatever he’d supposedly wanted to mention before the call ended, so he’d probably forgotten, or…something.

She debated whether or not to reply now. She found she was a little wary of…something. She wasn’t quite sure what. Making a fool of herself, maybe? She’d already spent nearly two very late-night hours sunbeaming him, and…that was already…well.

In the end, Rayla spent about five minutes trying to wrestle some semblance of reason past her sleep-mired brain, finally concluding that she was probably unlikely to come across as an infatuated idiot by responding to a couple of messages. Then, slowly, she picked at the keys to write back: Kind of knackered, but okay. While that one was processing, she hesitantly sent another: Just woke up from a nap. I think it helped?

She left the computer to visit the bathroom, tidying up her hair and washing her face with cold water. It did little to make her feel more alert, or to remove the weird muggy haze of exhaustion from her head, but it was better than nothing. She contemplated getting something to eat, but knew she wasn’t going to be up to cooking tonight. She went for one of her bottles of emergency moonberry elixir instead, which were so full of nutrients they probably counted as some kind of soup.

That in hand, she returned to her computer….and, somehow, wasn’t surprised to find that Callum had already replied. Was he just constantly glued to his computer, or what?

Well, at least it’s apparently traditional to be tired after full moon, I guess? He’d written, light-heartedly. At least you got a nap! Although it’s kind of late. Won’t you have trouble getting to sleep later?

Rayla shuffled forwards in her chair to respond. Nah. There’s a neat trick you can use to get to sleep at night if you’re a Moonshadow elf, and if it’s not Full Moon. Just need to shine a bright light in my face and I’ll be good. She hadn’t had to use it in a while, but she knew where the thing was: on her windowsill, to soak up sunlight during the day. It’d do the job just fine.

The pause in response seemed to be longer than connection lag would account for. That’s so weird, and cool, he marvelled, eventually. I just looked it up. They call them sun lamps?

Yep. Flash of sunlight in a dark place gets us sleepy pretty much every time. Moonshadow elves tended to be mostly diurnal by practice, but naturally, they all had the wiring for a nocturnal lifestyle. Bright sunlight in the eyes after being in the dark would usually trigger tiredness, even in elves perfectly used to going about in the daytime. Sun lamps were extraordinarily simple as far as enchanted objects went, but extraordinarily useful for Moonshadow elves with weird schedules.

What about if someone turns a light on in a dark room? He asked, apparently fascinated.

Nah. Has to be sunlight. It’s pretty specific.

That’s so cool, he reiterated, from that bizarre well of enthusiasm he seemed to have for banal magical elements of everyday life. Rayla waited to see if he’d write anything more, and after a moment, realised she’d started smiling. She wasn’t sure when that had happened. Eventually, he did send something else: I’d ask if you wanted to call again, but you should probably, you know, be getting actual sleep.

What Rayla intended to write then was something along the lines of, ‘yes, you’re entirely correct, I need to sleep for like twelve hours if I’m not going to be a useless wreck for training tomorrow’.

Instead, what she ending up sending was keep it half an hour or less, and you’re probably fine.

I’ll set a timer :) he typed, complete with smiley, which was something she’d never actually encountered outside of the mageskein before. And then he called her.

“How’s the light level?” she asked him, when the call resolved. It wasn’t yet far into sunset, so she thought there ought to be sufficient lighting in her room to see by, but who really knew with humans. She certainly didn’t know how bad their eyes were.

In his own room, Callum was bathed in the warm glow of the light through his windows, shaded the same pink-orange that she was. He was smiling, even as he pretended to squint exaggeratedly at her room. “Yeah, I can just about see,” he said, obviously teasing. “It’s not dark yet.” A pause, and he took a moment to look her over a little more directly. He was a little more concerned when he added “Are you sure it’s okay to be calling? You really do look tired.”

“I think I’ll survive half an hour, Callum,” she told him wryly, and one corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“Yeah, fair enough.” He hesitated for a moment, like he was summoning his nerve for something. “Listen – I wanted to ask before, yesterday, but – there’s going to be a sort of casual gaming night? At my house? On Tuesday. The others will be there. And my housemates, er, obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry if it’s short notice, but – do you want to come?”

Rayla stared at him, half bemused by the offer itself, half at his apparent nervousness. “Kazi said you were going to invite me,” she said, a little too nonplussed to offer any more intelligent response. “I guess they were right.”

He blinked. “You’ve been talking to Kazi?” A pause. “No, wait, what am I saying, of course you’ve been talking to Kazi. There’s no way they’d let someone who beat them at Antiquitora get away.”

“We had a rematch today, actually,” Rayla admitted, lips twitching. “I let them take Sun. Naturally they destroyed me.”

“Ow,” Callum said, with feeling. “I’ve been on the receiving end of Kazi playing Sun before. It’s…” he searched for the words. “Really something.”

She smiled, remembering it. With a few hours separating her from the game, she realised she’d enjoyed the experience more than she’d anticipated. The discussion in particular had been welcome. “I’m just glad to be able to play someone new, honestly,” she confided. “Though it’d be nice to do it again when I’ve actually slept.” A second later, she remembered he’d had an almost equally dubious bedtime, and inspected him critically. He looked surprisingly okay, actually. A little tired, but not like he’d been up most of the night. “Did you sleep in late, or what?” She asked then, a little amused. “You don’t actually look tired.”

He laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, I didn’t wake up till around lunchtime,” he admitted. “I had to go to work after that, though.”

Rayla paused, still very unsure of how to respond to mentions of his work. “And…was that okay?” She asked at last, uncertainly.

“Yeah, actually. I had a pattern etching appointment, and those are some of my favourites,” he said, brightening. “This one wanted one of my new designs, too. It turned out great!”

She’d seen something about that on the posters in the waiting room, she thought. “That’d be the…buzzing patterns into the horns?” She asked, faintly.

“Mmhm. I use sort of a really small thin version of an electric buffer, and work the etching in that way,” he agreed. “I draw the design on first and follow the lines, and then after you can either just polish it up and leave it, or like, fill with metal or something. It takes a while, but, you know, that’s kind of just how art works.” He shrugged. “It looks great, anyway.”

Rayla thought of her looming appointment, maybe a week or so away, and found she was entirely unprepared for thinking about that. “You…seem to kind of do the art thing a lot?” she hazarded, as a distraction, nodding to the nearest easel. “Painting?”

He turned to look, then grinned back at her. “Yeah! I mean, art is…well, I probably draw more than I game, and that’s really saying something. I do all sorts, kinda. I’ll have to show you some of my sketchbooks sometime.” That seemed to remind him of the question she still hadn’t answered, and he abruptly looked nervous again. “So. Er. Um. About Tuesday…?”

She tried, very hard, to keep an even expression. “Er,” she managed, and then finally: “…Yeah. Sounds good? I’ll…be there.” Wherever ‘there’ was. She did have the address written down, but hadn’t actually tried to figure out where it was in the city yet.

Callum straightened up, brightening. “Really? That’s great!” A second later, he amended “It’ll be really nice to have someone new over! We’ll have food and stuff, too.”

She paused at that. “Should I bring anything?” Hospitality expectations tended to be very different depending on culture, so it merited the question.

“Nah. Well, if you want, you can bring snacks or food, but you don’t need to. We have loads.” A second later, he added ruefully “Kassa has some…pretty strong opinions about how fully-stocked a kitchen should be.”

“That’s one of your housemates?” she remembered.

“Yeah! Actually, I lived with Kassa and her mom for a few years before. They sort of hosted me, when I was…well, when I first came to Gullcrest.” He amended his sentence half-way through, as if realising he was about to say too much. She was intensely curious about that. “This house is her family property, too, so we don’t have to pay much on it. We moved in when Kassa started her undergrad.”

She blinked, filing that information away. This had something to do with the mystery of him doing a mage’s masters at the age of eighteen, she was sure of it, but… “What about your other housemates?”

“Nihatasi moved in because we had room and she was a friend,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Soren…” he hesitated. “Well, he’s a childhood friend of mine,” he settled on eventually. “So he came to study here, and he took the last spare room.”

Rayla eyed him, but didn’t question him on the obvious secrets clamouring behind his words. “Looks a lot roomier than usual student wings, at least,” she commented finally. “These rooms are pretty cramped. And the runework is pretty worn-down. My door makes this horrible droning noise every time the wards come on.”

He made an ‘oof’ sound. “I’ve visited student wings before. They’re…well, they’re okay. Definitely prefer this house though.” He eyed her curiously. “Is yours at least one of the ones where you get one bathroom between two people? Because I knew someone who only had one bathroom for twelve, and it was terrible.”

“That sounds disgusting,” she said, making a face. She could hardly imagine how terrible that would be, with how some of her wingmates were. “I’m so glad that’s not me.”

“So glad,” he agreed, and before she knew it, they were off on a weirdly engrossing conversation about the merits of student living compared to home life. He was pretty evasive about it, but she got the impression he’d been used to a fairly fancy home before he came to Gullcrest, and he’d been astonished at what student wings were like.

Rayla was in the middle of describing how chaotic move-in day had been, with so many elves hauling all their boxes of things in at once, when a shrill ringing started up from over Callum’s voicecatcher. He reached hastily to the side and disabled some sort of egg timer that had gone off, settling back into view with a sheepish smile.

“That was the timer,” he said, apologetically.

Half an hour, already. It was a little disconcerting how quickly it’d gone by. “I’d better try to turn in for an early night, then,” she offered, weirdly reluctant to hang up.

He hesitated a fair bit, too. “Probably a good idea,” he agreed, wry. “We can talk again later?” His tone went questioning, at that. A little hopeful.

Rayla resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. “…Yeah, sure,” she sighed, more and more exasperated with herself for just how much she wanted to talk to him.

Callum smiled again, the edges of him lit up from the light of the falling sun. “Later, then,” he said, and hesitated once again. Then he reached out, and the call disconnected. Sunbeam minimised to its idling overlay around the edges of her screen, the background of Silvergrove scenery back to the fore.

She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. Ruefully, she spend a while reflecting on exactly how in trouble she was. Then she did as a responsible elf on their Full Moon rest day ought, and went to attempt an early night.

She managed it almost as soon as it was dark enough for her magic rune-rock to work. Thank Xadia for sun lamps, honestly.

---

End chapter.

Yeah so this is basically completely unbetaed, even by me, because I’ve been frantically trying to churn out a complete chapter this week in time for the Modern AU day of rayllum month. There will be typos, there will be clunky sentences, that’s just what you get for a rush job. I’ll return to it and do some editing in the morning.

Re: the Antiquitora. ‘Would you like to discuss the game’ *hikago fandom origins vibes intensify*

Worldbuilding notes for this chapter:

Moondances: specific ritual dances made to react with the runic Circles that Moonshadow elves use. The dancing is used as a form of spellcraft, to cast enchantments or strengthen the magic of a community. The Full Moon dances in Silvergrove for example are integral for keeping its magical defences running. (piaj)

EX and WX: East Xadian and West Xadia. A more modern and correct term for the human and elf/dragon sides of the continent, respectively.

Artefact magic: primal magic cast with a power source other than your own arcanum. E.g. a primal stone, a moon opal.

Thaumaturgy: the practice of magic casting.

Thaumatology: the study of magic.

Lightcatcher: magic camera, basically.

Voicecatcher: magic microphone, basically.

Honour Games: a fun sport :) more on this later.

Technomancy/technomantic: alternate proper term for magical engineering.

Antiquitora notes: while the game has been steadily gaining complexity over time, the game at its fundamentals is very old, and quite traditional. It’s considered a respectable strategy game, and Runaan certainly would have approved of Rayla showing an interest in it when she was younger. Modern variants tend to adopt features and ‘house rules’ that don’t strictly conform to traditional standards, though.

East Xadian computer games: though boasting dramatically better visuals and audio than human technology is currently capable of, the limitations of elven computing mean that computer games are extremely expensive, and difficult to integrate into lesser systems. Most elves will never be able to run the best gaming modules at home.

Nomad Gameships: Brevili nomads are well known for their magical engineering, and produce some of the most advanced technomantic games there are. Owing to the limited number of elves who can actually afford to buy them, they get creative with the marketing: many clans field airships whose sole purpose is travelling around as a sort of mobile arcade, landing at various destinations for a set amount of time, during which customers can pay for access to the many assorted games they have on offer. Demani, as the clan that (a good long while ago) invented the airship in the first place, boasts the most impressive facilities on their ships.

Skycrawler: a game so advanced and finicky that its developers haven’t yet figured out how to get it to run on less advanced systems than the gameships’ computers. There are a handful like these, usually the newest and most technomantically complex titles, and their release on gameships usually serves as something of a ‘beta’ build while they refine the technology for more accessible use. Imunaviga was one of these, and was very recently released for public purchase.

Imunaviga: as several commenters guessed, this is indeed a Subnautica expy. Rayla is not at all keen on the idea of playing it. I spent probably too much time working out the worldbuilding and plot for the elf AU version of this game. It was a lot of fun though.

Scion of Shadow: a well-regarded game with a Moonshadow elf protagonist, involving a lot of stealth gameplay, a highly-lauded storyline, and in-setting ‘fantasy’ elements; i.e. they’d be considered fantasy in this fantasy setting.

Magical overload states: Natural events that cause high levels of ambient primal magic can induce some very unusual effects in beings with the relevant arcana. Terms include ‘moonstruck’ for Moonshadow elves, ‘sunstruck’ for Sunfire, and ‘storm-drunk’ for Skywing. (piaj)

Moondust: a magic-dampening drug taken in different dosages based on the phase of the moon, to dampen the effect of the lunar cycle on Moonshadow elves’ bodies and minds. Not all Moonshadow elves take it, but most do. (piaj)

Reveillant: Sunfire elf beverage made from the dried berries of a shrub with stimulant properties. Some preparations are very strong and are restricted, but preparations from the berries are mild and very popular. (piaj)

Draconic Corpus: a sort of full-body sign language spoken by dragons incapable of complex vocal speech. Given this accounts for the majority of dragons, it’s generally useful to understand some of, even if bipeds are generally incapable of speaking it properly. (piaj)

#rayllum #rayllummonth #tdp callum #tdp rayla #college AU #modern AU #the ceracurist

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kareniliana · 3 years

Text

Jeremy: Meet Again

A//N: a little different and low key long. not really first time meeting but you'll see the connection when you read it. Also if you want to request something just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one!

xx Karebear 💛🧸

Being a sixteen year old in high school is stressful enough but being a sixteen year old witch, with little to no friends and absentee parents makes it harder for you to get your emotions in check. But you were able to find something that helps calm you, weed. You don’t necessarily need it but when the moon is full, your powers are enhanced and a little out of control.

okay that's a little bit a lie, they become too much for you to control. Thats where the amazing marijuana plant comes in handy, it calms your anger. You've always had problems controlling your anger. At one point your parent’s noticed too many holes in the walls of your personal rage room and sent you to anger management.

It helped for a few weeks but when the full moon was in effect, all that progress- everything that you learned, it went down the drain. You slowly became more and more angry and uncontrolled during the day but at night. It only seemed to get worse for you.You don't sleep because it gets too hot upstairs. You go down to your basement, where your parents moved your rage room to, for this reason exactly. Over the night you continually get fed up and release the pain and anxiety and anger against the four walls of your rage room. You thought you were helpless and a waste of energy to help.

You were contemplating on your life, if it was ever even worth the trouble to get to know or help. Having no real friends doesn’t help either. As you lit up a joint in the stoner pit you see the regular groups of people who use drugs to escape from everything but that wasn’t you. You weren’t escaping reality, you were reverting back to the median. Your emotions sometimes gets the best of you and with your magic you start chaos.

“Y/n Y/l/n” Your one and basically only friend comes up to you and sits with you before school starts.

“Jeremy Gilbert, to what do I owe the pleasure” you joked and laughed as you passed the small joint to Jer.

“So I found some stuff out these past few weeks. I just need someone to talk to.” He said almost awkwardly, hitting the J and passing it back to you. You looked into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, almost getting lost in them. You shake your head of any intimate visuals your brain is coming up with.

Jer smirks, almost as if he knows about your little crush for him. “but uh, You cannot tell anyone, not a single soul.” He looks at you with soft and adoring eyes, almost making you think maybe he likes you too?

“Who am I going to tell, my weed?” You joke, lifting the joint to your lips. “Seriously though, what is it?”

He sighed deeply before looking at you with worried eyes, “Vampires and werewolves and witches- they exist. They’re real, we have students who are supernatural creatures.” He drops the bomb, studying you for any kind of reaction. You held a straight face, you’re a witch. But you didn’t know about werewolves and vampires, you really only know about witches because why the hell else would you research more on the supernatural spectrum?

“You can’t be serious Jer.” You stared into his eyes looking for a hint of dishonesty, but he wasn’t budging.

“Why would I lie to you? We think someone here is a new incoming witch, and we need to find them and help get their magic under control before something big happens.” His voice sounds worried and caring but who else here is a witch.

“What makes you think that?” You asked, a little worried because you can admit sometimes you lose control at school but you never knew if it was noticeable or not. You’re a loner, no one really cares if you’re having a panic attack or whatnot.

“You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed all the bizarre shit that’s been happening here? Just yesterday before lunch everyones locker in the halls opened. Everyone heard the sound of them opening simultaneously, it sounded like a canon!” You realized you were the witch they were looking for, you had birthday dinner set with your parents but they called you during class to inform you they were sent on a business trip to New York for a client. Which meant they were canceling on you. For the third birthday in a row. You lost control of your emotions and you let it out as a scream, you heard the echo of the lockers burst open from the basement of the school.

“A few days ago Stefan and Caroline were mind tased that only a witch can do. And-” Jeremy looking to the two vampire from a few yards away, your face tinging with guilt, every time you went to let your anger out, you did something to the school or something around you.

“-Wait, why only Stefan and Caroline? Are they..” you interrupted.

“Vampires. Luckily no one else was in the halls...” your head falls in disappointment, a frown and sad eyes very evident. Jeremy looks back over to you, instantly concerning himself.

“Whats wrong? Wait, hey Y/n, what happened?” Jeremys hand reaches for your face, lifting your head to look at him. Tears formed, threatening to spill out. Guilt was written all over your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone I swear I just get so angry. I- I -” Your bottom lip started to quiver, almost sobbing you looked over to the vampires, “I’m really really sorry.”

“Hey wait, what are you...” He tried comforting you as he realized it was you they are looking for. “oh... it- it’s you. You're the witch.” You nodded your head, leaning away from him. He’s gonna see you differently now. He’s gonna hate you. He’s gonna leave, and you'll be all alone... your breath quickly increased, becoming into a panic attack and it’s beginning to become too overwhelming.

As your breathing increases, clouds roll in slowly covering the sun, then the wind starts raging around you all, you were doing this without even realizing it. It scared you more.

“Y/n? No, hey hey its okay.” he tried reaching for you, but you were too fast. Jumping off the deck and running to your car. Then suddenly the clouds begins to crack with thunder, you can see the lightning across the clouds, ready to strike the earth.

You saw Stefan and Caroline begin to run to you but without really thinking you wave your hand at them, sending them flying into a bus. You ran without a second look back. Getting to your car and driving home, down the lonely winding road to your driveway, passing other driveways to the very few neighbors you have.

“Okay, calm yourself!” You shouted at yourself as you hit the steering wheel, causing the storm to hail down rain. Suddenly you got the feeling os pins and needles all throughout your body, every muscle you felt a stab or slicing. You can feel your skin warming up.

“No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening!” You gripped the wheel and let all hell loose, screaming at the top of the lungs. A wave of power and force struck out from your body, feeling a wave of calmness come over you. You stopped the car, keeping your eyes closed hoping you were able to hold back the storm in your brain and above you in the dark sky.

You got your breathing under control, opening your eyes you see the storm is rolling away, and the sun is shining through. You chuckled, you were able to pull it back. “I did it, I really did it?” You smiled at yourself, letting out a deep breath. You got out of the car to really look at the sky.

As you got out, you look ahead and see tire skid marks on the road, they look fresh. You following the trail to a crash and totaled car, thrown again a wall of trees. Bringing tears instantly to your eyes, you hurt someone.

“Please be alive, oh, please be alive!” You scream trying to open the door but it’s at a weird angle the side doors aren’t opening and you're not climbing the death trap to the top. You can see blood on the windshield and drivers window, anxiety making your hands begin to shake.

“Okay... Think! Think!” You yelled and hit at your head. “You're a Goddamn powerful witch, start acting like it!”

You took a deep breath, standing a few feet away. You concentrated all of your magic to lift and stabilize the wrecked vehicle. Closing your eyes and feeling the earths pull on the car resist you, smirking at the feeling of power for good and not an emotional outbreak.

“Y/n! Y/N!! WHERE ARE YOU?” Jeremy, Caroline and Stefan followed after you in Carolines car. Jeremy convinced Stefan to let him go look after you alone. You trust him, you know him, you don’t trust Stefan- you barely know him. And Caroline has a reputation, you make it your mission to avoid her.

You opened your eyes seeing the car is now on all four wheels, you exclaimed in excitement. “I’m here, their bleeding! Come help me!” you walked into view, he stood at the road near your car. Jeremy saw you emerge from the trees and ran to you.

“Help me get them out!” You didn’t even give Jeremy a chance to get to you before you sprinted to the car. You can’t be responsible for killing someone.

“What happened?” He asked as you try to pry the doors open.

“I happened! What else?!” You exclaimed as it finally gave in and opened. The bloody elderly man in the passengers seat had cut’s everywhere, he lifted his hand just for it to fall again, letting go of his last breath.

“No, no! Stefan!!” Jeremy screamed the second we got the door opened. The vampires showing up not even a second later. “Help him!”

Stefan listened for a heartbeat, but there was nothing. “I’m sorry, he’s gone.” Stefan says sadly.

“But, no...” You said sadly, “I killed him? I actually killed him?” You looked to Jer.

“Can you explain to me what kind of witch you are? ‘Cause I’ve never seen just one witch make that bad of a storm and especially not that fast.” Stefan asked nicely but worried. You looked to Stefan with a scrunched up face, wondering how he could jump from you killing an innocent man to your supernatural abilities. But it slowly made sense, he’s probably an older vampire than you thought and has more experience with this than you did.

Your face relaxed into a frown, “I don’t know, just a regular witch. I don’t even know that much. I don’t know anyone in my family who could be a witch. I have some control of it... except..” You sighed deeply, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

“Except when?” Stefan said a little more sternly than before, taking a step towards you. Caroline grabbed his arm holding him back and interrupting.

“This seems like a witch problem for Bonnie. She can help you get control, no matter what it is, we can help.” Caroline said with a nod and soft smile. You returned her a smile of your own.

“But what do we do now? About him?” You asked about the dead man in the totaled car. Stefan walked towards the door, seeing the man drenched in his own blood but none of the windows are broken.

You brought Stefan’s attention away, “What am I supposed to do? Should I turn myself in?”

“Y/n, when do you have the least amount of control?” He asked sternly and worried, like he was depending on my answer to be best case scenario.

You gulped loudly, “during the full moon” you muttered, everyones eyes on you. They looked confused yet scared.

“Y/n, look at him. Tell me, how did he die by this much blood loss without any broken windows, the car I trashed but the windows are for the most part intact.”He spoke softly, almost guiding me through his thought process. You looked up at him confused by the scene in front of you.

“What were you feeling when the accident happened?” Jeremy asked, almost catching on to what Stefan was trying to conclude.

“I... first, I felt this overwhelming feeling of fear and self anger. Then I felt almost like something was slicing into my muscles, kinda like pins and needles... And I was hot, like I kept trying to stay warm but I couldn’t...” You looked down before asking, “Instead of me feeling that pain, I passed it to him?”

Jer sighed sadly,“Yeah. but his body doesn't heal like yours, because he's human... and you’re...”

“A witch...” You finished, looking down with a frown on your face and sad eyes.

“And a werewolf.” Stefan added, causing your head to whip up at him. Confusion and sadness written on your face.

“What? Is that even possible?” You asked looking back and forth between Stefan and Jeremy.

“We’re not sure but if we’re right, you just triggered the curse.” Stefan said point-blank.

“No, I can’t be!” You raised your voice at Stefan.

“You have trouble controlling your anger, you lose control of your magic on the full moon during the day.” He said quickly, almost scared of you losing control again. “What happens at night? Huh?”

You thought back to those sleepless nights of complete chaos, you’re starting to think he’s right.

“Tonight’s a full moon. What can we do to help?” Caroline spoke up, worried for you.

“I need to figure out how to control it, what if now that I actually triggered it, it’s only worse from here?” You asked, worried out of your mind.

“Don’t think of it like that, I think you can do it. You just have to believe in yourself. Okay?” Jeremy brought his hands to your shoulders, comforting you. “Maybe now, you’re not bounded. You can shift and feel it instead of passing it on.”

Jeremy hugged you, trying his hardest to help keep you calm. He was worried for you. He was scared this would be too much for you and you’d end up hurting yourself instead.

“Okay, Jeremy get her out of here. We got this okay.” Stefan said, suggesting he would make it go away or at least make sure nothing points to you or Jeremy.

Jeremy takes you home, you showed him your rage room with all it’s damage and glory. He thought it would be best to stay here where you’re most comfortable and your parents were still out of town. Being worldly known defense lawyers means, business trips to New York or L.A. or Seattle. Really anywhere but Mystic Falls.

“Okay So I called Tyler and Bonnie. They should be here soon.” Jeremy sat down on the sofa with you, looking over to you. You sat up and looked confused to why you needed Tyler.

“He’s a werewolf, he can help guide you through the shift. He’s probably going to say something like ‘accept the pain’ blah blah.” He joked, making you laugh a little.

“Can you stay with me?” You asked shyly, after the laughter died down a little.

“You sure?” He asked looking at you with worried but loving eyes, getting lost in your y/e/c eyes.

“I’m basically going to go through the shift with strangers, I don’t think I could do it without you there. But if you don’t feel safe-”

“I’ll stay” His hand reached for yours, giving it a little squeeze. “You need me, I’m not leaving.”

You looked up from your hands to his eyes, you smile softly. You opened your mouth to say something but then the doorbell goes off. Almost scaring you both, you go to the door. Opening it to see Tyler Lockwood and Bonnie Bennett. You never in your life expected to ever see them at your front door, let alone being the supernatural creatures that they are. Crazy how life turns when you found out you're not human.

You showed them your rage room, and ensured them that your parents will not be in town for a few days. Then Tyler pulled out sets of chains and some restraining equipment, Tyler drilled anchor points on three of the wall and ground. Bonnie began to assemble the wrist clasps and what looked like a collar but metal. This all began to start to scare you and you could feel your magic begin to storm. But shortly after the magic spark, you could feel your body radiate extreme heat. Jeremy was helping Tyler connect the chains to the anchor points. You stood there confused, in pain and beginning to lose yourself. But then you’d catch a glimpse of Jeremy and you came back to the median. When this cycle of pain and anxiety came, you'd look to Jeremy and you'd look back to you with a smile, and you seemed to get control.

Until suddenly, your bones begin to break. You screamed in pain and fell down to the floor. “Jer!”

“It’s starting already?! But the moon isn’t even at in effect yet!” Tyler exclaimed, helping you get up from the floor.

“Oh yeah? Well why did it start nearly an hour ago! Ahh!” Your arm breaks, you’re a panting sweaty mess. Tyler, Bonnie and Jeremy are trying chain you up but it’s a little difficult when you’re in the middle of shifting. Then the agonizing pain of your fangs coming out causes you to roar in pain, your eyes glowing an iridescent yellow. Claws and wolf hair growing out of everywhere.

Tyler pushed Jeremy towards the wall, getting him out of harms way. Jeremy watched in amazement, he’s never seen a shift like this one. It was oddly controlled. You moved as if you’ve done this before, but everyone knows you haven’t. Jeremy didn’t realize he was the reason why she was so relaxed and accepting, he would look at you and you’d remember what he said. just believe in yourself.

Bonnie and Tyler moved back once they finally closed the last cuff. You roared, but held onto your humanity, you stayed in this half way form, holding Jeremy’s gaze.

“Yeah that's it Y/n, you got it. Just accept it, embrace it, don’t fight it. Okay?” Jeremys calm voice led you do letting go of your fears and you let yourself finish your shift. Your clothes ripped into shreds as you transformed into a white wolf with your bright iridescent eyes- even your fur seemed to glow a yellow tint. You glowed, truly glowed. The three of them stared in amazement, this was their first time experiencing something so magical and boundless.

Once they realized you were shifting back to human they left the room for you and bonnie, she brought down some clothes of yours that weren’t shredded to pieces. She released you from the restraints and handed you the clean clothes. As you got dressed you talked about your magic and how in control you seemed, she goes on to say that maybe your problem isn’t losing the control it’s that you get scared and make yourself lose it. You’re scared of what embracing the magic can do to you. She mentioned she also was scared of fully embracing it and letting herself be powerful.

“Last night you were too focused on your shift that your magic was controlled. You never wavered. You should be proud of yourself.” Bonnie praised you and had left a few spell books with you to help you get comfortable using your magic.

You followed after Bonnie to the front door, walking Tyler and her out. “Thanks for everything, I know who to call if I’m in trouble with the shift.”

“Call me for anything.” Bonnie smiled and got into her car, Tyler opening the door and nodding at you before getting in. He rolled the window down.

“You got this, if you ever need anyone to let off some steam, come to me. We can figure out healthy ways to release that anger.” Tyler waved and they were off. Jeremy came out from the bathroom, grabbing his jacket.

“I have to get home to shower before school.” He pulled his phone out as he received a text from Elena. You turned around as you heard her car pull up before you can see it. This werewolf hearing is gonna take a while to get used to.

“I’ll see you there?” He asked, worried you weren’t going to school.

“Yeah, of course. I- I feel good. I think I got a good handle on it now.” You smiled proudly in yourself. He smiled with you.

“I’m proud of you too.” He went down the steps and climbed into his sisters car, as they drove off you could hear Elena tease Jeremy about you.

You ran upstairs getting to finally shower off this exhaustion and soreness, shifting was painful but once you’re through it, it feels like a huge relief. You’re at peace and calmed. but now you’re back to human form, and it’s like your personalities of each are at each others neck. You were able to control it and keep them at bay. You weren’t helpless, you’re not a lost cause. You were helped, after all those terrible sleepless nights and the pain, the feeling of being alone in your pain and agony. You were found, you found yourself. You’re more you than you’ve been.

You cleaned up your rage room and put a lock on it, that way your parents don’t get curious and check it out- not that they have but just a precaution. Getting everything locked up and squared away you got int your car and went to school, driving past the site of the accident there was police tape a little ways into the woods. Stefan and Caroline had told the sheriff the truth, seeing as she knew about the supernaturals and helped cover up some major instances. Much like the accident you caused, which you will never stop feeling bad about. You don’t think you’ll be able to look at a human life the same again. Because you had to take a life to finally feel free and like yourself. You never knew being a were-witch would be the answer to your emotional health.

You pulled into a parking spot, getting your things together before getting out. Seeing Jeremy leaning on a tree, waiting for you nearby. You smiled at him and walked to him.

“You seem different.” Jeremy pointed out once you reached him. You smiled up at him.

“Yeah I feel different. I don’t feel like the same Y/n as before.” You chuckled, embracing yourself for the first time is empowering.

“In that case. Hi, I’m Jeremy and I'm a Human.” Jeremy held his hand out, meeting you all over again.

You laughed and played along, “Hi Jeremy, I’m Y/n. A Were-witch.” You giggled, feeling a sense of self.

You gave him your hand, not letting go of your gaze. He smiled at you and pulled you into a hug.

#jeremy gilbert #jeremy x reader #jeremy gilbert x reader #the vampire diaries #tvd x reader #tvd #the vampire diares imagine

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