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#i just thought it might put a strain to the child if his name is ace but he doesn't ace in anything
bones4thecats · 29 days
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How Did Charlie Meet Her Father's S/O?
Type of Writing: Random Idea Characters: Charlie Morningstar and Lucifer Morningstar Name: How Did Charlie Meet Her Father's S/O? Idea-Gifter: Random Thoughts
A/N: Here the reader is specified as a fallen angel and the role of the reader is listed below the character's photograph! By the way, this has spoilers for the first season. Now, have a nice rest of your days/nights!
⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Swearing ⚠️ Spoilers for: Season One ⚠️
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Fallen-Angel! Reader ; Parental-Child Relationship
☀️ Charlie was very happy that her father was attending the Hotel more often, so when he called and said he was coming by with a guest, she was nervous immediately
☀️ I mean, she was on-edge with her father due to their strained relationship when he first arrived, but now she might be meeting one of his friends? Oh, someone help this girl
☀️ When she tried asking who the person was, she could only hear her father nervously laugh and she could practically see him playing with a rubber duck in panic
☀️ She just put it behind her as the rest of the Hotel rushed around, trying to make the Hotel look the best for the King of Hell and his special guest. Despite the fact that he's already been by multiple times ever since the Extermination Day and the original building being destroyed
☀️ Whoever it was, she was just happy her father had someone around
☀️ When the sound of her father's familiar knock entered the Hotel, everyone went near-pitch silent and watched as Charlie straightened herself out and walked to the door, opening it to see two different figures behind it
☀️ One of a shorter male with a very similar appearance to his daughter, and his large top-hat sitting on his head while he spun around a cane with a large apple decoration on top of it
" Oh! You must be my father's friend! I'm Charlie- uhm, his daughter! What's your name? " " I am Y/N. " " Y/N?! As in the angel?! "
☀️ Lucifer laughed as the rest of the Hotel looked at you shocked. It was true, you were once a highly-regarded angel in Heaven. And the only reason you fell was because you dared to defy the higher-ups and defend your oldest friend
" Yes, as in the angel. Or rather, as in the fallen angel. "
☀️ The Hotel watched as you released your wings, they were very large, but, unlike Lucifer's, they were a far darker shade. Maybe around a grey-ish white with black stripes; they looked much like an Exorcist's wings
☀️ And it made sense, you were the creator of their sub-species
☀️ Charlie just looked at your wings in awe, they were so beautiful! But, when she heard her father's cane hit the ground, she turned to look down on him and she smiled and chuckled; how oblivious of her!
" Actually, Charlie, may I speak to you, in private? " " Yeah, give us a second, you guys. "
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Fallen-Angel! Reader ; Significant Other - Courting Stage
🦆 Lucifer was beyond happy; he was finally getting to introduce his love to his own daughter! Even if the one didn't even know about the role of the other
🦆 When Charlie had asked who her father was bringing over, he just laughed while nervously playing with a rubber duck, squeezing the poor creature until the squeak grew to loud to hear
🦆 Once you both reached the door of the Hazbin Hotel, you could tell the man you were currently courting was getting nervous, so you laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, knocking him out of his no doubt wild mind
🦆 Hearing and watching the door opened made one thought pulse through the King of Hell's mind; there was no turning back now.
" Oh! You must be my father's friend! I'm Charlie- uhm, his daughter! What's your name? " " I am Y/N. " " Y/N?! As in the angel?! "
🦆 Lucifer was not at all surprised, you were an angel that was held in very high-regards in the transcript about Heaven that laid in the old books, though you were eventually given a more minor-role in his eyes
🦆 He smiled lightly and laughed as even Alastor looked at you in surprise, only for you to show your wings and chuckle as Niffty asked if she could touch them, only for you to bend one down for her to grasp
🦆 Lucifer then remembered why exactly he was here, so, with a swipe of his cane to gain Charlie's attention, he asked if they could talk in private, resulting in them going to her main office
" So, Charlie. I want to give you a thorough rundown of what me and Y/N are exactly. "
🦆 Now she looked confused, damn it Lucifer, just think straightly and get to the point!
" Y/N has been by my side ever since I was sent here. They tried defending me and keeping me in Heaven, much to our dismay, it failed, which resulted in them falling. But, anyways! Okay, so, the things is- well, the is thing- "
🦆 God damn it!
" Me and Y/N are currently courting one another. I'm sorry for not notifying you before. It's just, I didn't want you to hate them for not being your mother and I just- " " Dad. It's fine. I'm happy for you guys. Besides, I've heard you talking to them on the phone. I just figured you may have been speaking to someone else you were close too, like family maybe. "
🦆 Lucifer began to laugh, why did he ever think that his daughter would've been upset? You were by far one of the sweetest beings in existence, and his daughter was one of the nicest with you! Of course she'd understand and support you guys
" I would've appreciated a possible hint on this, but, really I am fully supportive of you guys. " " Thank you, Charlie, so much. " " It's not a problem, Dad. Now, we should go back. I'm starting to want to get to know my future step-parent! "
🦆 The King of Hell's cheeks then began to darken a few shades; Charlie was thinking of that already?! Wow, he was going to have a heart attack before he reached the age of 500,000 on this ride...
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voiidlizrd · 8 months
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Dorm Leaders With (slightly) Chaotic Star Child!Reader
Includes:
Riddle Rosehearts, Kamil Al Asim, Leona Kingsholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Iida Shroud, Malleus Draconia
Note: Reader isn’t the main character Yuu, gender neutral reader, fluff!!! Fluff all around. Im feeling particularly Found Family Today. Bit of angst because why not
Spoilers: Many include the Overblots in the game so major spoilers for some!
┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐
You were just something that got caught in the middle of the summoning spell that lead you to Night Raven College. Upon summoning, people immediately noticed how… Odd your magic was. Well, it wasn’t like you were doing magic right off the bat trying to set the place on fire (yet), but it was the fact you didn’t even HAVE to show off your powers for them to know that it was simply chaotic in nature. To the students upon your arrival, even Headmage Crowley, they felt that your magic was a pure vortex, your aura simply radiated pure, unhinged energy that couldn’t be contained.
Your appearance was relatively normal, well, aside from the pure white color that would sometimes tint your (e/c) eyes. And how sometimes people could see a faint glow where your heart was from underneath your ragged shirt that was four sizes too big and went down to your knees.
Yuu, who was already having a mind at how they even got to this weird magic school and was told that their world was basically nonexistent, kinda stared at you for a while but also felt a little bad when they noticed how you stared at every one else. It wasn’t that you looked sad, it was more the fact you had those wide eyes and blank face, like you hadn’t even seen people in a while.
Crowley felt like he was about to pass out. Not only did a magicless human show up (along with some fire breathing cat who almost set a student on fire), but another student showed up who’s not even NEAR the age to attend college!
There was a moment of silence before Crowley simply said, “Uhm… Well…” What was he suppose to do in this situation!? Send you home, he guesses. It’s far too dangerous to have a child here, even if they had some powerful magic on par to even Prince Draconia.
Crowley kneeled down to you with a soft smile, well, as soft as he could make it from how close he was to breaking down crying. How could this even be happening at his school!?
“Hello little one!” He said. “I am Dire Crowley, the Headmage at Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to meet you…” He trailed off, giving you a hint to tell him your name.
You were silent. Blinking at him with those big ol eyes. Then, “Y/N.”
“Ah! Y/N! Lovely name.” He smiles, taking your limp hand in his and shaking it gently. You blinked again and gripped his hand.
WHY IS YOUR HAND SO WARM ITS LIKE A DAMN FURNACE. Crowley thought his hand might be on fire now from how hot your hand was, as tiny as it was, and he could hear his leather gloves even sizzling under your grip. Meanwhile you just rapidly moved his hand up and down in a handshake like his, just more violent. He wretched his hand away from your hands and tried to keep a smile but it was very strained, he was sweating as he lightly chuckled.
“Now… Uh….” He cleared his throat. “Well, unfortunately, you are very young looking, if you don’t mind me saying,”
After all, some of the students looked like they could be in middle school!
“So, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back home to your parents, alright?”
You said nothing. He decided to take that as a “yes” to get this night over with. He put his hand on your back and lead you up the stairs to the mirror, who’s face looked down at you.
“Magic Mirror! Send this child back to where they came!” Nothing. Oh for the Sevens sake- “…Mag-“
“The Star Child has fallen.” It said simply. “It burned too bright and fell from the sky. During its fall, it ended up here. The Star has no home to speak of to go to.”
…Well shit. Even worse! The room was tense and Crowley looked down at you. You didn’t seem to be bothered but you stared down at the floor, those eyes still big but a little dimmer now at the mention of falling. And now you had nowhere to go! What kind of man would he be if he just said; “well that sucks, anyways, off you go little one!” He sighed heavily again and rubbed his temple.
“Well… That’s… Fine!” He crouched down again. “Change of plans, little one, how about you just… Stay here until we figure out a proper home for you to be in? Maybe in one of the dorms!”
He picked you up and held you up to the Magic Mirror. The Mirror hummed for a moment.
“The Star Child is very bright. Their soul is shapeless but full of light to where it is hard to see past. They suit all of the dorms, yet none at all.”
“Well… That certainly is a predicament…” Crowley mumbled, setting you down, but you immediately looked back up at him and started to crawl up his body. He almost screamed at how terrifying it was to see your tiny body basically see him as a tree and scale up him to grab on his shoulders. He was sweating bullets now. It reminded him of those kittens that basically claw their way up your leg and you can’t even decide if you want to laugh or cry in absolute fear. He was pretty much wanting to scream and cry. Those stupid big eyes staring at him.
“…Alright then.” He patted your back awkwardly. Was this your way of asking to be held!? He basically had to force you down onto the ground.
“So! Change of plans. Since I am having to deal with this magicless human predicament because no dorm suits them-“
“I have a name y’know!” Yuu yelled, but Crowley didn’t even see to notice.
“And you are in a different situation. The Mirror said your soul was unshaped but full of potential to be in any one of the dorms…” He put a finger to his chin. “Yes… Yes! Yes this will do!”
“You will be sorted in one of the dorms to learn and be molded into a fine magic user! With that aura you have, you might go so far as to be the youngest mage to ever make it into Night Raven College and learn from the best! Ooohhh I am so generous!” Crowley was gushing at his own words as he looked down at you with promise, you simply just stared at him and the others who were staring at you.
“The dorm you shall be in is…”
╔══════╗
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“Heartslabyul!”
What.
No. Seriously. What.
Not only does he have to deal with a literal child, he also has to deal with these new freshmen who clearly do not understand the sacred Queen of Hearts rules! Riddle isn’t all too happy with this situation, but it here is a chance he can shape you to be a well refined student, then he will do so!
But first he has to do something about your appearance. Your clothes are partly singed at the ends and you definitely need to be freshened up! He won’t have you looking untidy.
Crowley had brought you over to Riddle, who stood calm and poised with his hands behind his back.
“This is Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm prefect of Heartslabyul. He will be watching over you and teaching you about Twisted Wonderland.”
You stared at Riddle. He stared back at you. You didn’t even blink for a whole minute, then, you walked up to him and tried crawling up his body what the fu-
He promptly yanked you off of him and your grimy child hands were gripping his robe and he was clenching his teeth as you stubbornly held onto him. He managed to get you on the ground, but he had to hold back from using his signature spell on you. This was your one time to ever make this mistake. You clearly do not understand. But he shall teach you proper manners.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. However, please refrain from ever climbing on people. It isn’t polite.”
You stared at him. “No.”
No? What do you mean ‘no?’ Huh???
“Ridley.” Huh??!!?? That’s not even close to being his name!?
“It’s Riddle.”
“Rib.”
“Riddle.”
“Dil.”
He’s about to lose it. He breathes in deep as he pinches the bridge of his nose, then, he hears your low cackling, like you’re holding back yourself from giggling too loud. He looks at you, a mischievous grin looking back at him, your eyes that (e/c) color glowing a bit white as you snicker at him. He sighs internally. Another rule breaker, he can smell it, and he’s not gonna have it. His mother raised him to be a proper man, to follow the rules and have order, and he will teach you just the same. He won’t tolerate you antagonizing him.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Now, I shall teach you the manner of ‘rules’ here in Heartslabyul. We follow the great Queen of Hearts, who ruled over Rose Kingdom with order. I know all 810 of her rules and now, so shall you. Do you understand?”
One day after coming here to Night Raven you learn that Riddle sucks the fun out of everything. As soon as you got to the dorms with the freshmen and the returning students for their new year, he immediately told you that it was way past bedtime. Something about “rule 67 of the Queen of Hearts, one shall go to bed at exactly 8:30 on a weekday.” And then today, he sat you down in the dorm lounge and brought a heavy book.
“This is what you need to learn in order to be able to go through life. Rules here are very important and it a way to maintain absolute order over your kingdom. As a prefect, it is my job to uphold the Queen of Hearts rules to a tee. Though, since you are a bit younger than the others, I’ll give you some time to adjust. But do not think I will tolerate you actively rule breaking! There will be consequences to your actions, do you understand?”
You didn’t like this one bit. You frowned with a pout, Riddle clicked his tongue at you and crossed his arms.
“Do not pout or whine. You are not a toddler. Now, open to the first page and get to studying. I’ll be here the whole time to make sure you actually do it.”
This sucks. This really sucks. You burned up so bright in the sky when you thought about the universes out there, needing to see them all, despite all your siblings telling you to relax. You couldn’t help it! You burned so bright the colors exploded and stretched beyond the infinite space. When you ended up here you wanted to have some fun! Not be forced to read these stupid rules!
Turning the page to the first rule you wanted to die. You didn’t wanna read! Also…
How did you know how to read?
Whatever! It didn’t matter. You didn’t wanna! Your face scrunched again and looked at Riddle, who looked back at you with that typical “no nonsense” look. You stared at one another for a long time.
Then you ran.
“Y/N!!”
He chased after you and you ran through the halls with speed. How were you so fast!? Sure you were a child but you’re so fast! Other students moved out of the way as you ran, cackling down the halls as you did so. Trey was making tarts for the upcoming un-birthday party when he heard those giggles come into the kitchens, your figure darting in the kitchen and then out past Riddle when he entered, red faced and panting. He was sweating and grabbed the counter.
Trey chuckled at bit at Riddle. “…going well?”
Riddle growled a bit at Trey and swallowed. That’s when Trey noticed a missing baked tart from the “test tarts” he made. That’s when Riddle gritted his teeth. How did you manage to evade him AND get a tart in the process!?
“Get back you you little brat!”
Trey didn’t mind the little theft of the tart and watched as Riddle ran out of the kitchen. He laughed a little under his breath. You were gonna be an interesting addition to the bunch.
“Y/N DO NOT BRING THAT BOOK ANYWHERE NEAR THE FIRE! PUT THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT!”
…Maybe he should help…
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You’ve been at the school for maybe a few days now and you like Riddle! You really do! Even if he is a big party pooper, he’s still really fun to mess with! Which is why you like him. You pull simple, harmless pranks every now and then. Salt in his tea rather than sugar, taking a shoe from a set pair of his and hiding it and having him chase you for it, dangling off the chandelier in the lounge and listening to Riddle yell at you while his face gets a beat red, putting glitter in his hairdryer, the works! It’s so fun messing with him and they aren’t doing damage to him, so it’s okay!
Then there’s the un-birthday day. You’ve never heard of it and it sounds like a big deal. With the dorm uniform Carter managed to get for you thanks to Crowley, you fit right along with the others! Though, it wasn’t helping that Riddle kept trying to fix your uniform. Or kept trying to check you for any of the hedgehogs you somehow keep hidden on your person at all times. You just love the little guys! Yuu was even there at the party too!
You were sat beside Riddle, mostly to stick to his side so you don’t try and cause something. Ace had walked over to Riddle and presented the walnut tart to him and things just went downhill from there with you in the mix.
“And you!” Riddle screeched during his rant, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You are nothing but a useless weed here! You do nothing for the kingdom with your stupid pranks and disgusting attitude! If it were up to me, you would be thrown out at once and left with the rest of the trash!”
You watched at the others fought against the now blotted Riddle with a slightly broken heart. By the time Riddle was finally defeated and sobbed openly in front of others, you kinda stood there in the background.
You’ve never felt this way before.
This much hurt made your chest ache inside and you began crying. You’ve never cried before. You ran off chaos and were a big buddle of energy, all full of light and little darkness in your heart without a need to feel any negative emotions. But now you were here in the world.
You sniffled a bit and rubbed your eyes, a little confused and very… sad, if that’s the word. Riddle was suddenly in front of you, standing awkwardly there, then he hugged you.
“I’m so sorry.” He said, clinging to you tightly. “I’m really sorry… I- I actually enjoyed your pranks a little! I liked when you smiled afterward. I liked when you made me chase you. It reminded me of playing outside with friends… Something I rarely did.”
“You aren’t useless at all! I didn’t mean those words at all.” Riddle frowned and almost started crying again. “I won’t be so harsh on you anymore. You don’t have to study the rules all the time. You don’t have to be like me.”
“Just… Don’t cry. Please. I don’t want you to cry because of me…”
You sniffed again.
Then you punched him on the chest.
“Your mean! I’m taking all your tarts! All your sweets! I’m taking everything from you!”
Riddle only smiled and held you even tighter while you shouted empty threats.
Since then, he’s more lenient on you. He doesn’t need to shape you to be just like him, like his mother wanted him, he can at least try to raise you the way he would want to be raised, with some freedom. Trey helps him because sometimes it’s hard to try and do something you weren’t taught to do.
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“Savanaclaw!”
No.
No. Absolutely not. He has his brothers brat to deal with back at home. He does not want to deal with another brat here. He seriously wants a nap.
“This is Leona Kingscholar, prefect of Savanaclaw. He shall be looking over you and guiding you along your way!”
He stared at you with distaste. You stared back at him with those big eyes of yours. Then, you stared at his ears, which twitched, then, to his tail that lightly swayed behind him.
You then promptly grabbed it with your hands and had it in a tight grip, yanking the tail.
He hissed at you and lightly shoves you back. You stare at him. Then try to grab it again. He grabs the back of your shirt and lifts you up off your feet.
“Knock it off.”
“Are you a kitty? I’ve never seen them before.”
“I’m a lion.”
“Then you are a big kitty then.”
He sighs. He dislikes you already. He might just throw you into the care of Ruggie, the guy has plenty of siblings to speak of so he can take care of you. He seriously does not wanna deal with you, but, he has to keep you from making his form look bad. What a pain.
“Come on, brat.” He said, still carrying you by the back of your collar, which you didn’t seem to mind based on your grinning, trying to grab at his ears with your grubby mitts.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
He was just laying there peacefully in his room, the night was upon them after arriving back to the dorm. He was happy to sleep until…
He cracked one eye open and saw your glowing eyes in the dark staring back down at him. Leona swears, he started to dislike children even more. You were super creepy in the dark.
“What are you doing.” You asked.
“Trying to sleep. Which is what you should be doing. I gave you a room, didn’t I.”
The room he gave you was a vacant one only a few doors down from Ruggie’s room. If anyone should deal with you, it’s him. Please. But here you are, in front of him.
You continued to stare at him. “How do you sleep.”
“By closing my eyes and sleeping.” He groaned with a sigh and fully opened his eyes at you. “What do you want.”
“…I dunno.”
He felt a headache coming on. He turns his body over for his back to face you. You tilt your head at him and then caught eye to his tail again. You grabbed it with your hands and he immediately wanted to scratch you, but you weren’t gripping it like you hated him this time. You messed with it as it wriggled in your grasp and giggled lightly at the tail and then poked at the end, looking at it with fascination. You’ve never seen this before!
Then you climbed onto the messy bed and then started messing with his ears, which he lightly shoved your hands away, but then you went back to messing with them again.
“Stop.” He growled.
You remained silent, then lightly started petting him a bit. He huffed and sat up, grabbing you and putting you off the bed.
“Go to your room and go to sleep.”
“I don’t know how.” You said. “I’ve never slept before.”
Huh. You never slept before? Well if you are some star… thing… it sounded about right. He groaned for what seemed like the fifth time tonight and sucked his teeth and laying down on his back.
“Cmon, lay down,” he said, which you crawled back into the bed and mimicked his position, staring at him.
“Now shut your eyes.”
You shut your eyes and then waited, like he was, but nothing was happening. You felt antsy just waiting here in silence, but you kept your eyes firmly shut. Leona peaked at you and saw how you were tense, but said nothing. Eventually after a few moments, he heard you yawn and then move over to grasp at his arm. He looked at you and saw you completely passed out asleep.
Finally.
He yawned himself and fell asleep with you gripping his arm.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“YOU DAMN BRAT!”
You were giggling and laughing when you snatched away his favorite sandwich Ruggie got for him from the dining hall, running away from the botanical garden with the sandwich in hand. You didn’t wanna eat it, but you wanted to mess with him a little since you were bored.
You had been sitting on his chest for like a whole hour trying to wake him up but he’s been ignoring you. You tried napping with him to maybe get why he naps, but you got bored of that quickly.
Now you were escaping a cranky and hungry lion!
“GET BACK HERE!” You turned a corner down the hallway, pasting a bunch of students who moved out of your way, then you saw a beast man seeing Leona chase after you and tried to grab you, but you were a slippery thing and manage to dodge him!
Then you were suddenly tackled to the ground with Leona holding you to his chest as you were squealing with laughter and trying to wiggle your way out.
“Give me back my damn food.” He growled at you, trying to snatch it from you but you kept moving it away from him, even with him holding you.
Then you gave up and gave it to him. “Thank you for playing with me Leo!”
He doesn’t even correct you on his name. “Go bother someone else!”
He tried walking away, maybe hoping that you’d try and find Ruggie, but no, he looks over his shoulder and sees you happily following him.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
It had been after Leona’s Overblot and you didn’t even bother to leave the infirmary to see the Magift game, whatever it was. You sat a bit away from Leona’s bed in a chair with your knees against your chest, staring away from him. During his Overblot he called you a nuisance, which, you won’t bother trying to deny you were being annoying to Leona, but it still stung a bit. Leona could tell you were off based on how quiet you are and the fact you had a certain smell about you, as if your magic had dimmed a bit and it was clear by your eyes that you weren’t glowing as bright anymore.
He sighed. He hated apologizing but he would do it if you stopped having that sad look about you. “Hey, brat,”
You looked up to him, pouting a bit. He sighed again, more agitated.
“What I said… Uh…” He swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry.”
You blinked at him and tilted your head, like a confused puppy. And looked away. “Do I really bother you…? Do you really not like me? I promise I’ll stop. I’ll be better.”
Okay now that hit him harder than it needed to.
“You don’t need to ‘be better’, not for a guy like me. Sure, you are annoying,” he watches you deflate a bit. “But… If you stopped with your antics, I’d probably get antsy just waiting for you to do something. It wouldn’t be good, especially if I’m trying to sleep.”
Well… It was something. He watches you visibly brighten in your eyes and smile at him, which makes him disgustingly warm, and just accepts it when you throw yourself on him in a big hug.
“UNKA!!!!!”
No.
Please.
Cheka runs in the infirmary with the others following him, his little body colliding on top of Leona when you moved yourself out of the way, making him groan on the impact.
“Seriously? Cheka, where is your guard? Why are you even here.”
“I wanted to see you!” The little lion beamed with a toothy grin.
Then, the little guy takes notice of you, and you stared at him. You walked over to Cheka.
“Do you know Unka?” Cheka asked.
“Mhm! He’s taking care of me. I don’t have a home!”
Kids always say some odd stuff, especially honest stuff to one another and neither of you look at all phased.
“Oh, okay!” Cheka says. “My unka is very kind, even when he’s a little grumpy! Does that mean you’re my cousin?”
“No they aren’t-“
“I dunno what a cousin is but yeah!”
“You’re not my nephews cousin.”
“I’m Cheka!”
“I’m Y/N! I’ll try to be a good cousin but I dunno how to act.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll try to lead you okay!”
“You two ARENT cousins!”
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“Octavinelle!”
Well… Okay?
He doesn’t know how to feel when he goes up to you, but what he does know is that you’re radiating with some powerful energy and he desires that. Perhaps he can shape you to his own devices? Hm…
“My name is Azul Ashengrotto, a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”
You furrowed your eyes at him and he blinked for a moment at you. It was as if you smelled something off, or maybe there was something on his face. You frowned at him and took a step back. Huh?
“Uh…” Crowley coughed in his hands. “Y/N? Go with Mr. Ashengrotto!”
“No.” You said. “There’s a funny smell on him. It smells weird.”
Azul felt a little embarrassed at how you put it. Crowley looked confused and then made a soft “ah” when he snapped his fingers.
“That’s the salt water!”
You looked at Crowley. “Whats salt water?”
Azul looked baffled for a moment. You didn’t know what salt water was!? Let alone an ocean!?
“It’s like water but salty.” Azul explained. “It’s usually found in the ocean.”
“What’s the ocean?”
“It’s… Like a big… lake?”
“Whats a lake?”
Did you seriously know nothing? He was growing a bit frustrated with you.
“Come with me and I can show you.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
It was like being in the glass and all around you there was blue, an array of animals swam past and barely turned to gaze at you. You stared with big eyes at what was supposedly the ocean that surrounded you. You touched the glass. You’ve only heard about the ocean from your siblings! They said that the moon liked the ocean and kept it balanced, from what you’ve heard.
And the ocean was very pretty.
“Do you understand now?” Azul asked behind you.
You looked at him. “I wanna feel the ocean.”
“You mean you wanna get in the water? I dont-“
“What’s the harm, Azul?” Jade asked with a small smile, looking down at you.
When you first met Jade and Floyd for the first time, you swore that you thought you were seeing double because you thought they were the same person! Well, up until they explained the idea of twins to you.
“Yeah Azul!” Floyd piped up, picking you up swiftly and squeezing you lightly. “Little starfish wants to explore!”
“Starfish? That’s new.” Jade lightly pinched your cheeks.
“Well the mirror did say that they were a star so they’re a starfish!”
Azul looked to Floyd and Jade and sighed. Maybe letting you swim would be okay. He has work to do so it doesn’t really bother him much.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
He had to sit in the lounge and watch you guys. Turns out you don’t know how to swim but somehow you don’t need to breathe? The first time you got in the water, you just sank to the bottom with Floyd and Jade now in their eel forms circling around you, trying to pull you up, but you just let the bubbles escape your mouth as you stared all around you, seemingly unaffected by the water or the salt entering your eyes. They stared back at you and Floyd was even more excited than before! You were just like a starfish, he was right!
Azul watched, somewhat panicked when you didn’t even bother swimming to the surface, mostly trying to flail your arms and try and follow Jade and Floyd.
“Don’t worry little starfish! We got you!” Floyd cheered, grabbing one of your arms.
“We can teach you since you’ll be around us a lot more often.” Jade grabbed your other arm.
The two hoisted you up and helped you move around in the water. It was like teaching a little fish how to swim for the first time, they thought it was adorable how your little bitty arms moved around to copy their movements. Of course, they had to go based off of how humans swam since you didn’t have a tail, which was fine. But for the most part, you were enamored by their eel form rather than trying to swim. You tried to grab their slippery tails but they moved so quick you couldn’t grab on. It was even worse when you actually got the hang of swimming a lot faster than they expected and tried chasing after them to grab their tails.
Floyd was having a blast as he pressed against the glass. “Azul! Starfish is so cute! I wanna keep ‘em! They really like us like this!”
You caught Floyd by his tail and refused to let go, climbing like a gremlin up his body and grabbing his face. His whole body was a blue-ish green color, which you thought was the most cool thing ever, and then you finally have the chance to see his teeth up close.
“See! They like me!”
“Careful Floyd, don’t squeeze too hard.”
You didn’t mind. You and Floyd were getting along great! Azul wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or… a bad thing. Both? Probably both. It’s Floyd. Who knows what he’ll teach you.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You bit Azul during homework time.
“Ow! Y/N!? The hell was that for!?”
“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I was excited being around you and I wanted to bite you.”
“Starfish!!!” Floyd cooed, picking you up and squeezing you. “You and me are just alike!”
“Yay!”
Azul is now fearful.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
It had been days after Azul’s overblot incident and you had nothing to forgive him on because he never said anything to you, he mostly never really payed much attention to you since he was constantly working, which you were bored with. But even so, he was trying to change and open up more now for the better! But there was something really bothering you.
You wanted to swim with Azul!
“Azul?” You had asked him while in the lounge with him. He actually wanted to talk with you a bit more, study you a bit to know more about being a star in the first place, but you were bored with the questions mostly.
“Yes, Y/N?”
“Can we swim?”
“Huh? Swim? I- I don’t think that’s…” He was worried. Sure he was trying to love himself more, he really was, after all, it’s something he has to learn to do before he could ever become whole. But there was still those lingering fears inside of him. You’ve never seen someone like him in that form.
“Please?” You looked at him with those big puppy dog eyes. “Pleaaaaaaaaaaeeeee????”
“…alright.” If it’s something you fear, it’s all the more reason to face it.
“Yay!”
You were tugging on him to get up to the tank that entered the sea around the dorm, dragging him to the water. You canonballed into the water without even bothering to get out of your uniform and poked your head up to watch Azul.
He was sweating bullets as he stepped into the water, the water engulfing his whole body until he was finally submerged. He shut his eyes tightly when he felt himself transform into what he thought was the hideous version of himself, a tentacle freak. He could practically hear the insults now.
He decided to crack a single eye open when he felt you grab one of the dark purpled limbs in your hand. You stared at it and blinked of times.
Then you bit him.
“Ow! Seriously!?”
You only grinned at him with those nasty demon teeth. He couldn’t help but smile back at you.
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“Scarabia!”
Aw!!! He loves you already! At first glance, you looked like the cutest lil kid he’s ever seen! You remind him of his little siblings and he can’t help but beam at you as he approaches you and crouches to your level with eyes as big as yours.
“Hi there!” He beams. “My name is Kalim Al Asim! Im the prefect of the dorm and I guess I’ll be taking care of you!”
“It’ll mostly be me.” He heard Jalim sigh behind him.
“We can take care of them together!”
“Sun.” You suddenly said. Kamil looked at you with the same smile on his face and he hummed in question. You placed a hand on his head.
“You are… Like the sun.” You were smiling like you were talking about someone from home, where ever that was for you, and you kept patting his head, which he giggled at you and took your little hand in his.
“You’re so sweet!” He swooped you up in his arms and basically almost tried crushing you in his hug. “I like you weird star child! Come on! Let’s go to the dorms and I’ll show you around! Oo we can even have a sleepover and Jamil can make something yummy for you to eat! And then we can get to know each other, yeah!?”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Jamil almost dropped all his things as he stared at you and Kalim. How the hell did this even happen. Kalim was apparently watching you were on fire. You. Were. On. Fucking. FIRE!?
“WHAT THE FU-“
“Oh hey Jamil!”
“WHAT!? THEY- THE KID IS ON FIRE!?”
“I’m okay!” You said. “I got a little mad.”
“WHAT!?”
“We were watching a movie and they got upset at the movie, so I’m waiting until they stop burning. It’s kinda like how that weird shut-in guy from Ignihyde looks when he gets upset!” Kalim was laughing at the idea and Jamil was currently panicking. How was he okay with this!?
That’s when you stopped burning. Your clothes were burnt to a crisp and it was a miracle they weren’t ash, even more a blessing that they weren’t your uniform and rather your pajamas. But now there were burn foot marks in the floor because of your entire body being on fire. Jamil watched as you collapsed into Kalim’s arms and say that you’re better now, which Kamil wasn’t the least bit phased.
“Why didn’t you try and put them out!?” Jamil chided Kamil with a very confused and very irritated expression.
“Well, I was freaking out, don’t get me wrong!” He admitted while holding you. “My reaction was kinda like yours, except mostly crying and screaming. Then Y/N said that this sometimes just happened when their emotions get out of hand so I waited for them to calm down!”
“Kamil’s smile made me stop being angry.” You said to Jamil who felt a headache coming on as he sighed. He kinda just tried to accept what was happening.
Then you stood up and hugged Jamil, your arms wrapping around his abdomen. “I’m sorry I made you worry. And made the floor burn. And burned my clothes.”
He looked down at you, smelling the burnt fabric and char lingering in the air, and just simply sighed heavily and patted your head a little. After all, you were a little kid, even if you had some otherworldly magic in your hands and weren’t even human, despite looking like one.
“Group hug!”
Jamil can’t take this anymore.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“What was your home like, Y/N?” Kamil asked you one night before taking you to bed. It was actually next to his room, which he wanted to make sure it was so he can always help you if you ever needed him! Big brother instincts always take over.
“Mm… It was dark.” You said as he tucked you into bed. “I wasn’t alone though. I was with my family.”
“They were the other stars?”
“I think so. I’m not sure.” You looked at Kamil. “You always talk about the things you do with your family, but me and my family never done anything together. I always wanted to play, but there was nothing to play. We were always just… there.”
He felt sad for you. You weren’t showing any sadness since you didn’t understand how to express it, but he could tell that you were feeling something deep down based on how you were staring at him. Envious? Upset? All of the above? He couldn’t be sure, but it made him sad.
“But Im here. In this world. I can’t go back to my family and that’s fine.” You said. “Because I have Kamil and Jamil.”
He felt his heart clench in his chest and he wanted to start crying. He felt warm as you smiled at him.
“Kamil is like the sun. And Jamil is like the moon. It reminds me of home and I’m happy!”
Kamil burst into tears and grabbed you, holding you close to his chest and sniffling and sobbing with snot running down his nose.
“You are the sweetest kid ever! I’m never letting you go! We’re gonna be together forever, I demand it!”
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“Pomfoire!”
Oh……
Ew.
That was probably the very first thing he thought when he caught a glimpse at your ragged clothes. How you walked around with that mangy shirt made him look you up and down with slight distaste. Although, despite your lack of fashion, you had some hope in your appearance. With a bit of help, you had some hope.
“This is Vil Schoenheit. The prefect of Pomfoire. He is an expert in potion making! With his expertise, you’ll be a master in any art in no time!”
All you can think of is that this guy is very purple. Maybe that’s his favorite color. You’ll probably call him a fruit at some point. Vil crossed his arms as you stared up at him. The two of you had a staring contest for a while before Vil sighed and grabbed your arm.
“Come on, potato.”
“I am not a vegetable.” You said as he pulled you. “Val.”
“It’s Vil. It’s not that hard to say.”
“Whatever you say, Allen.”
“Dimwit.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Don’t. Eat. It.”
“But it smells good!”
“Do not eat it you idiot!”
Vil was trying to get you dolled up currently in his room. He had you sitting at his vanity with a large majority of makeup products that appeared high class in quality. He had gotten you out of those rugged fabrics and into the dorm uniform that was your size. Now he was busy styling you with a bit of a light blush and maybe some gloss. After all, you were still a child, he didn’t want to cake your skin in the products that could possibly damage your skin, it would just look terrible.
Unfortunately, the gloss he had smelled good to you and you kept trying to lick it off your lips to eat it. He was beyond disgusted. Nasty child.
“Stop that!” He said, lightly tapping your head to scold you. You pouted at him.
“But it smells good.”
“It won’t taste good, just like the soap you tried to eat when taking a bath.”
“It lied to me.”
He sighs, very annoyed. He decided to just skip the blush and just use chapstick.
“STOP TRYING TO EAT IT.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Ask anyone in NCR and they would insist that Vil despises you. He complains about you constantly annoy him and that you are a thorn in his side, along with other insults he could think of, mostly describing you a nuisance.
Others are very convinced he hates you, but, it’s actually the opposite.
He ADORES you.
Sure, you’re annoying at times with your constant pranks and always being glued to his side, but that’s not to say he hates it or you for it. When someone asks him if he does hate you, his confusion and irritation is clear.
“What gave you that idea?”
Well… He doesn’t exactly make it obvious he cares about you. His care for you is subtle if you aren’t actively trying to look for it.
“Vil can I have that burger thing in the dining hall?”
“Absolutely not. It’s very greasy and you could break out into pimples and ruin your complexion.”
You stare at him. You liked the fruit salad Vil introduced you to because it was sweet and nice, though you didn’t understand the salad part, there wasn’t any vegetables. But you also wanted to try other foods! You’ve never eaten before cause you never experienced hunger until you fell. Although, you haven’t gotten use to a solid form ever since your fall, nor the feeling of hunger. Some days you don’t feel hungry or feel any drainage like normal humans do when they experience it.
The first time you told Vil that you were hungry he asked when the last time you ate. You said;
“What day is today?”
You swore his face turned white as a sheet. Now he keeps a keen eye on you to maintain a proper eating schedule! He does take into consideration of your body type and shape, all people process food differently, but for you, you aren’t exactly human, fae, or any other creature he’s seen or studied, so he keeps a little snack on him at all times, just to make sure you get some food in you. You’re a growing star child and he’ll be damned if you don’t take care of yourself!
Another subtle thing people don’t look out for.
Vil eventually caved a let you have the burger, though. You devoured it in ten seconds flat.
“Calm down or you’ll-“
You started choking and he sighs. He’ll scold you later.
Another thing people rarely see is that he’ll kill everyone if someone insults you or hurts you.
There was a time a Pomfoire student laughed at you when a potion blew up in your face after you added random shit into the caldron. It didn’t hurt you or turn you into something strange, but it didn’t almost burn bits of your hair…
Vil heard the cackling as he was scolding you and then snapped his head over to the student.
“Is there something you want to add.”
His glare was terrifying and any word other than “no prefect” would probably make him want to turn them into a toad.
He’ll kill everyone and then himself if harm ever comes to you. That’s a promise, no matter what complaints he has.
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“Ignihyde!”
He has a hundred PowerPoint slide on why he is the LEAST qualified person to do this. He still holds a belief that he is the worst brother in the world after what happened to Ortho and he can give a long, long list of reasons why he cannot possibly take care of a kid.
Now he looks at you through the floating tablet on his screen and bites his nails nervously when you stare back.
“On the otherside of this tablet is the prefect Idia Shroud! The prefect of Ignihyde.”
“Nice to meet you…? I guess.” Idia mumbled out.
You visibly perked up and suddenly snatched the table into your hands and stared at the screen. Now Idia has full view of those big eyes of yours and it isn’t something he enjoys. He almost screeches when you grabbed the tablet.
“Please let go of the tablet!” He said. “You’re gonna damage it or- or something! Just let it go!”
“You aren’t a person?”
“I am! I just didn’t wanna come to the ceremony in person, so I’m using this tablet to watch…”
“Oh.”
You didn’t understand but that’s fine. It was glowing a pretty blue and you wanted to look at it up close anyways, even if the man was trapped in the metal square.
“Hello!” Ortho came up to you and gently urged you to release the tablet from your hands. Idia almost sighed in relief. He didn’t wanna imagine what you’d be like in person. “My name is Ortho Shroud! My big brother is Idia Shroud!”
You stared at the boy, who was very cheerful. You tilted your head and then poked his metal shoulder. “You are metal.”
“I am! My brother designed this body for me!” Ortho said. “He is very talented and smart! Even if he doesn’t think so.”
“Ortho…” Idia’s hair was already turning pink from embarrassment.
You continuously poked at Ortho’s metal body, sometimes even knocking on it, which he didn’t seem to mind. He was giggling at you and grabbed your small hand in his, leading you out of the ceremony hall.
“Come on! Let’s meet my big brother!”
“Ortho! Wait I’m not mentally ready! Abort! Abort!”
“It’ll be okay!”
“Ortho!”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Idia hated this. No seriously he hated this so much.
As soon as you saw him, you wasted no time and suddenly scaled his body like a damn rat, which he let out a girly screech at, and now is stiff as a statue as you poked and prodded at his blue, fiery hair.
Meanwhile, Ortho was giggling at your antics. He really liked you! He’s never seen a kid who looked around his age before!
“Ortho.” Idia managed to croak out while sweating bullets. His personal space is being invaded! He does not have the items for this!! “Help your brother. Please.”
“They’re just curious big brother!” Ortho said. “I think they really like your hair!”
“Please… Please Ortho.”
You were messing with his hair with odd fascination then you suddenly moved away from him, which he sighed at and tried to relax, but you were still clinging onto him.
“Can you… Like… Get off me please.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.
You stared at him and then just slid off of him and onto the floor, looking around at your surroundings. Idia was still trying to recover from a little gremlin child climbing into him and invading his space and messing with his hair. Ortho lightly patted his brothers shoulder, but still looked to be smiling.
“I thought I was a goner…”
“It’s okay big brother, as far as I can see, you’re perfectly alright!”
“No seriously… I thought I was going to encounter the game over screen for a moment… this isn’t fair… Why me!??”
“It’s alright! I’ll make sure that Y/N doesn’t get into any trouble while we’re in school!”
You were searching around his room and suddenly grabbed one of his figurines.
“HEY PUT THAT DOWN!?”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Idia has come to the conclusion you were a total noob. Over the course of a month, he’s gotten use to you and even started liking you a bit! He’s still a bit weirded out by you and your need to constantly try and scale him like a tree, but he’s gotten use to it by going stiff. He also calls you a noob because you have a weird fascination with his technology, like you’ve never seen it before. Which you haven’t. Hell, even hun starting up his computer makes you go wide eyed. It’s so funny to him! There were times where he was like that when he was younger, but, he has grown up around technology so he doesn’t really completely understand your reactions.
Either way, they’re funny. He loves them.
He’s trying to teach you the basics of tech and what to avoid, after all you’re still a little baby in his eyes. He’s also introduced the idea of games to you, but mostly the ones that aren’t gorey and have a fantasy feel to them.
“Use this button to slash the enemy’s and basically interact with things.”
“Ok.”
“And use this to jump.”
“Ok.”
“Now go forward and try killing that mob with your sword! Oh and make sure to dodge.”
“Ok.”
“I died.”
It was a level one mob…
Now if you were anyone else he’d make fun of you and call you a normie, but…
He pats your head. “It’s alright, we all start somewhere. You did good! Let’s try again and try to copy what I do, okay?”
You seemed more happier when Idia pulled out a two player open world fantasy game knowing that you could play together than just doing it on your own. He’ll make sure to buy more of them, then!
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“Diasomnia!”
They had forgotten to invite Malleus yet again to the ceremony, so Lilia had to come in his stead. So when Lilia saw you, he was surprised to hear that you’d be in the care of Malleus, though, not that surprised since you radiated this aura about you that gave off high levels of magic in you, it did remind him of Malleus, in some way.
If someone asked Lilia; “would you take in another child under your care?” Lilia would probably say no. Raising two boys was good for him and he’s proud of that.
“This is Lilia Vanrogue. He is not the prefect Malleus Draconia since uh…” Crowley coughed into his fist when Lilia gave him his signature smile, but with a glint in his eyes that told him to stop talking. “But he shall take you to Prince Malleus and introduce you to one another!”
When you looked up at him with those eyes, those big eyes with little thoughts behind them, he instantly threw any sense of self out of the window and caved.
Well, one more child to take care of wouldn’t hurt!
He crouched to your level and smiled sincerely, “hello there, young one. I am Lilia. It is very nice to meet you.”
You blinked at him and stared at him for a while. You then approached Lilia to move his hair out of the way and show his ears, messing with the pointy tips of them and even trying to yank them. He chuckled a little at your antics and grabbed your hand lightly to stop you.
He hoisted you up into his arms carefully and had you in his grip. You didn’t seem to mind at all, mostly trying to get as his ears again.
“I think we’re going to have a nice time, little one! Malleus is sure to love you.”
You said nothing and had the urge to eat his hair.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Welcome back Lilia!” Boomed Sebek as soon as Lilia entered the door.
Silver roused up from his light nap on the couch and eyed the little child in his arms, which caught his attention. Malleus had appeared when Lilia returned, obviously wanting to hear about the new students in their dorm, but clearly by the look of the child, it would be different this year.
“This is Y/N! They appeared so suddenly during the ceremony. Apparently they are a fallen star.” Lilia explained. “Burned too hot and fell from the sky, poor thing.”
You didn’t seem all too bothered and immediately looked at Malleus, specifically his horns. Sebek had begun his praise to Lilia on how generous he was to let you, a child, into their dorm, but stopped once you crawled your way down Lilia and approached Malleus without care.
He looked down at you.
You looked up at him.
You both engaged in a staring contest without even blinking, it was really uncanny. There was silence for a moment.
Then you started to crawl up Malleus.
“WH-“ Sebek almost choked on his spit as you just nonchalantly climbed up the Prince like the weird little baby you were.
You stopped and looked at Malleus’ ears, tugging them for a moment. Lilia was stifling his laughter, pressing a hand on Sebek’s chest to keep him back or burst out to say something and scold you or try and take you off Malleus. Silver was just blankly staring, probably not even understanding what was going on, thinking maybe this was just a fever dream. You moved your hands to Malleus’ horns, grasping at them lightly. Your eyes widened and then… Shook his head. As if testing if they were really attached to him.
Sebek almost had a stroke.
Lilia snorted.
Silver has long since checked out.
Malleus stopped your shaking. In that silence, he calmly patted your back awkwardly, grabbing you and setting you down.
“Aren’t they a charmer?” Lilia laughed as you ran up to Sebek and tried to climb him next.
He almost screamed as you clawed at his shirt. “BAD STAR CHILD! BAD! LILIA!”
“Alright little one,” Lilia picked you up with his hands under your arms and held you in front of Sebek. “What did you want from Seb?”
“LILIA! THEY ARE CLEARLY UNHINGED IN- IN SOME SORT OF MANNER! THEY CLIMBED THE YOUNG MASTER LIKE HE WAS A TREE! THAT IS BEYOND DISRESPECTFUL!”
“But their just a baby.” Lilia cooed.
You reached your greasy grippers to Sebek’s ears. They weren’t pointy! You blinked and then tried to grab his mouth because you saw his pointy teeth, that’s when he almost hissed at you.
You wiggled your way out of Lilia’s hold and found your next victim to be Silver. He didn’t even bother to stop you in anyway as you climbed him and caught his ears in your hands. Not pointy either. And his teeth were dull too! You grabbed his cheeks, stretched them a bit, and poked them. He blinked at you.
“Do you mind.” He yawned.
You stared back at him and then grabbed his hair. It was a very strange color and you liked it. That’s where he drawed the line when you tugged and set you down.
“Lilia, you said their name was Y/N?” Malleus finally spoke. “And a fallen Star? I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“Yes, I thought so as well, but there are plenty of surprises this year. A magicless human was also enrolled at NCR, supposedly.”
“Interesting.”
“Lily.” You pointed at Lilia. Sebek was about to burst a blood vessel.
“YOU CANT CALL LILIA-SAMA ‘LILY’! THATS NOT HIS NAME!”
“No no, it’s alright. I quite like it. Thank you little one!”
You then looked at Sebek. “Beckie.”
“THAT DOESNT EVEN RELATE TO MY NAME???”
Then to Silver. “Sil.”
“WHY DOES HE GET A NORMAL ONE!?”
Then you look at Malleus. “Mal-Mal.”
“Okay.”
Malleus was never more confused in his life but he laughed a little anyways at your nickname. It was very cute and very unlike anyone who’s been around him.
Sebek has long since given up on you, deciding that there was little hope in trying to stop you. Silver likes you because you gave him a sensible nickname and you’re alright so far. And Lilia already loves you! He’s a father of three now!
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Mal-Mal.”
“Yes, beastie.”
“Look what I can do.”
Malleus looked away from his book at you. The two of you were suppose to be studying magic together under the watch of Lilia, with Sebek following and Silver just wanting to see what you can do, after all he was curious.
You’ve proven yourself to be a bit of a firecracker when it came to showing off your magic. By that, it simply meant your magic was very uncontrollable and a simple light spell could possibly render someone blind, so Lilia wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself hurt.
You held out your hand and then…
A burst of light suddenly burned their eyes, white fire, probably hotter than anything, burned at your entire arm. Sebek was losing his mind in fear that you were going to hurt yourself and possibly Malleus. In a blink of an eye, it stopped, and in your hand was a little flower in your hands. It was transparent and firey. Around your feet there was singes in the floor from when your whole body heated up. You offered the flower to Malleus.
“For you.”
He blinked at you and tried to take the flower from you, but it quickly disappeared.
“Oh.” You said, dropping your hand.
“That’s alright, little one.” Lilia came to your side quickly, wanting to console you as his fatherly instincts took over.
“Be careful next time!” Sebek had said. “You could have burned the whole dorm to ash!!”
“I doubt they would do that, Beckie.”
“SILVER!”
Malleus decided to use a bit of his own magic to make his own flower in his hand, a little bit like yours, but instead a small black lily and handed it to you, which you took gently.
“Do you like it, beastie?”
You nodded. “I’m gonna keep it forever so I can remember to make a lot of flowers for Mal-Mal.”
Malleus swears if anyone hurts you, he’s gonna kill everyone and then himself.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
With Yuu, there is Malleus. And with Malleus, there is you. You always like to come with Malleus on his walks, it’s very nice, especially seeing the weird dormitory that looks ready to collapse. You like asking Yuu all sorts of questions.
“What’s it like being flesh and blood.”
“…uh…”
You like Yuu.
544 notes · View notes
themorriganwitch · 11 months
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Top Gun: Maverick Kink Headcanons
Summary: Headcanons for 5 kinks 5 particular Daggers have
Words: 1k 
Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha Trace, Jake Seresin, Bob Floyd, Pete Mitchell, also includes some IceMav
A/N: Includes NSFW Content, 18+ only MDNI!!, English is not my first language, so there will be mistakes. 
Masterlist 
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Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw 
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-   Choke kink – on the few occasions where he let you take the lead and let you bounce on top of him, he wants nothing more than your tiny fingers wrapped around his throat. And when you squeeze him just right – he could come in that exact moment.
-       Daddy Kink – I don’t know why, maybe it’s just the vibe he gives or maybe it’s me wanting to call him Daddy, he definitely has one. Amen.
-       Overstimulation – God, how he loves seeing you completely messed up, tears straining your cheeks after he gave it to you so good again and again and again.
-       Impact Play – How he loves watching your ass jiggle, your flesh red and hot from where he put his hands.
-       Breeding Kink – Nothing he would ever think about during his frat boy years but after finding his soulmate he cannot imagine something sweeter that seeing you pregnant with his child.
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Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin
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-  Breeding kink – that man wants to see your belly round and your tits swollen. Could be the southern boy from a huge family in him or just him in general. No matter what – that man wants to see you pregnant with his child.
-       Cockwarming – Jake being the touchiest human on planet earth loves nothing more than feeling your walls hugging him perfectly close, especially after coming right back from a long deployment.
-       Edging – He’s a teasing piece of shit. Nothing gets him more going than hearing you beg for his cock.
-       Exhibitionism – slipping his hand between your thighs while sitting at dinner with Rooster and his girlfriend knowing only, he can feel the wet patch on your panties even though you are in a room full of people, that’s probably the best dinner he ever had.
-       Brat Taming – Mouth ‘Make me’ at him, after he admonished you several times for you teasing him on a navy ball and will fully loose his shit as soon as you come home.
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Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell  (Most of these involve IceMav)
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- Rank Kink – oh how Mav adores when you call him Captain. But he adores it way much more calling Ice by his rank when the admiral rewards him for not annoying the shit out of Cyclone.
-       Spit Kink- That man likes to get messy in the sheets, add some dominance vibes to it and he is a happy man.
-       Threesomes – Not with everyone of course but he would lie if says that he never thought about you, Ice and him getting messy in the sheets.
-       Switch: With everyone but Ice, Mav is probably the dominant part. But as soon as him and Ice are alone, he fully submits to his Admiral, knowing he would never regret it.
-   Brat Taming: Ice taming Mav after he spend another day driving Cyclone and the whole Navy insane – it’s not a headcanon but universal.
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Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd 
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- Dom / Sub dynamic – being always underestimated by his co-workers and superiors Bob loves nothing more to come home after a rough day and reward someone for doing exactly what he tells them to do. And he will always take such good care of you.
-       Bondage: he might look innocent with his birth control glasses and everything, but he goes absolutely feral seeing you tied up and helpless (fully consensual of course) in front of him
-       Voyeurism – you, laying spread wide open on your shared king size bed while he sits on a chair across the room, watching you touch yourself and moaning his name – that’s how images heaven
-       Brat Taming – Polite and kind bobby loves nothing more than showing his brat of a girlfriend how to behave correctly when escorting him to a navy ball.
-       Aftercare – it’s not really a kink but since our beloved backseater is someone (honestly unsurprising) who likes it wild in the sheets, he knows how important it is to take good care of you after you’re done. He always has some water and snacks stock in his drawer next to the bed and he always cleans you up softly before he cuddles you until you fall asleep in his arms.  
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Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace
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-  Choke Kink – the thought of you pressed under her, her hands lightly squeezing your throat while she rides you with her favorite strap on – that’s what helps her to keep going through a tough workday.
- Rank Kink – kinda similar to Bobs Dom/Sub thing – being one of the few female aviators who graduated top gun Nat had always to keep up with her co-workers not taking her serious and making fun of her (*Cough*Hangman) she absolutely goes feral if you call her “Lieutenant”, while she serves you.
-   Edging – She’s incredibly similar to Jake when it comes to this (not that this is something she would like to hear)
-       Sensory Deprivation – After a long day of flying and always being ultra-focused on watching the environment up in the air, Nat highly appreciates to be blindfolded and just let her other senses work while you make her feel good.
-       Switch: Phoenix is a classic Switch – on somedays when she had to boss new Top Gun students around, she needs to submit to you and fully let go of all the responsibility. While on other days after being screamed at by her superiors she needs to feel a sense of control.
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Additional Headcanon for Phoenix and Hangman: Both probably would never really consider having a threesome unless it is with each other and a third person. And the whole thing would evolve from the competition who can make the third person come the most.
(Probably going to work on this for an upcoming One-shot now)
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Hope you enjoyed this, comments and prompt ideas are always highly appreciated 
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thebadgerclan · 2 years
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Quiet
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x reader
Requested by @fandom-puff
Summary: You must keep quiet...
Smut!
If you were capable of rational thought, you would say that this certainly wasn’t the time, nor the place, for such activities, but your husband’s cock stole rational thought from you, reducing you to a moaning, whimpering mess.  The whole of Anthony’s family was gathered at Bridgerton House for a visit, but was your husband in the drawing room welcoming them?  No, he had you bent over your dresser, skirts shoved over your hips, while he fucked you mercilessly hard.
“You must quiet yourself, my dear,” Anthony said, his lips on your ear.  “We would not want the whole of my family to know how desperate you are for me, would we now?”  Your only response was a strained moan, and you reached behind you, grasping for your husband’s hand.  It was truly his fault that you were incapable of silencing your moans; Anthony was the one who so often encouraged you not to hold them back, to let him know just how good he made you feel.  
That was certainly biting him in the rear right now, as with every thrust, every drag of his cock in and out of your dripping cunt, you let out a keening whine, a desperate whimper, a moan of pleasure.  You’d put on one of your favorite gowns to welcome Anthony’s family, but it just so happened that your favorite gown was the one that your husband found you the most desirable in.  The moment he’d walked into your chambers to ask if you were yet ready, he was gone.
“I must have you,” he had declared.  “My beautiful, perfect wife, I need you.”  You’d protested, weakly, that Violet and the rest of his family would be arriving, but your husband shook his head.  “Would you have me hard whilst seated next to my mother?  I should think not.  Now, lift your skirts for me, wife.”  You could say no, that was something Anthony had made explicitly clear to you after your marriage, you could always say no, but when he looked at you the way he had been, how could you?
Which led to your current…predicament; hip bones digging into the wood of your dresser, dress rucked over your waist, your husband’s trousers barely pushed down, his cock pistoning in and out of you at a wonderfully pleasurable, albeit fast and rough, pace.  “Hush, you,” Anthony hissed, bringing one hand to your clit, making his direction all the more difficult to obey.  
“Anthony, yes!  Oh yes, please, do not stop!”  You knew you were being far louder than you ought to be, but you simply couldn’t quiet yourself.  Why would the marital act be so pleasurable and enjoyable if one was to remain silent?  “Must I shove my cravat in your mouth?” your husband said, his voice raspy.  His voice was calm and composed, though his hips snapped against yours, the head of his cock ramming against that place within you that had stars dancing before your eyes and your legs trembling.  “No, I daresay you will enjoy that a bit too much.”
In the drawing room, Violet, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Simon, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth were gathered, patiently waiting for their host and hostess.  “Where might my son and his wife be?” the Dowager asked the footman, who shook his head.  “I do not know, My Lady.  I should hope they will be along shortly.”  Violet only nodded, sipping her tea.  The truth was, she had an inkling of where you were and what it was that was keeping you.
The Dowager wasn’t blind, she saw how her son looked at you and vice versa.  And she would be lying if she said she wasn’t on the lookout for signs of a new little Bridgerton.  Violet loved Augie, her eldest grandchild, dearly, but one could not help but want another.  Besided, Anthony was in need of an heir, to pass on the Bridgerton name.  And if your first child was a daughter, well, Anthony knew the joys of a large family, did he not?
“I do believe you are close, my darling,” Anthony said, and you nodded, biting your lip.  He had not put his cravat in your mouth, but he had threatened to stop if you hadn’t quieted yourself.  So you found yourself biting your lip, reducing your cries to soft, gentle whimpers.  “Yes, Anthony, please!”  Your husband sealed his lips over your neck, fighting the urge to mark you, thrusting into you harder.  
“Come for me, wife.  Come on my cock.”  You shuddered in his arms, head tipping forward.  Anthony met his high a moment later, grunting softly as he released.  Your husband remained still within you for a moment before withdrawing, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to clean between your legs.  As erotic as the notion was that his seed was trickling down your thighs, Anthony didn’t want you uncomfortable while visiting with his family.
He did his best to straighten your skirts and fix your hair, but the damage was done.  You ended up taking out the elaborate updo your maid had done and letting your hair fall loose; something the Bridgerton clan wouldn’t find odd.  When you were suitably presentable, Anthony led you from your bedchamber and into the drawing room.  “Apologies,” he said as you entered.  “Y/N’s gown simply would not lace this morn, and required my assistance.”
It was a flimsy excuse, but the younger Bridgertons nodded and accepted it as truth.  But Benedict, Colic, Daphne and Simon, as well as Eloise only smirked.  Violet stood and embraced you, saying how good it was to see you and how eager she was to spend the afternoon with her family.  But as you took your seat, she was watching.  The Dowager watched how you walked, the slightest limp in your step, and how when you sat, you covered a wince with a cough.  Her suspicions were confirmed, and she stood next to Anthony, who was fixing himself and you a cup of tea.
“Dearest,” she said.  “I know how easy it is to fall prey to one’s carnal desires, but perhaps you would remember when your family is visiting?”  “Mother!” Anthony whispered.  “I…We….I thought you wanted grandchildren!”  “Oh, I do.  It is just…perhaps you ought keep your efforts to a time when you and your bride are alone.  Truly alone, dearest.”  Violet didn’t wait for a response, she moved from Anthony’s side and sat next to you, striking up a conversation that he prayed was completely unrelated.
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findafight · 8 months
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Hey! Do you have any headcanons or ideas RE Mr & Mrs Buckley? (Or Mr & Mrs Harrington?)
I like to imagine that Robin’s parents have some suspicions that Robin *maybe* isn’t straight. Melissa *desperately* wants to say something, let Robin know that they love and accept her no matter what (when she finally does come Melissa’s like “You could become a cop or join the army and I’d still love you!”). Richard is very firm that they should leave it be and let Robin come to them if she’s ready.
This doesn’t stop Melissa from dropping hints, trying to prod Robin into opening up to her, but all Robin hears is “Mom is already scared I’m gonna die a spinster”.
This is part of the reason they’re wary of Steve when he starts hanging around. Like, he’s a nice enough boy - if they were sure that Robin liked boys, he’d be a lovely little son in law.
Oooh yes I love her parents I know the companion novels are only like. Half canon but greatest gift we got was Hippie Christmas. (I like to headcanon that Richard and Melissa have a bunch of friends who go by the names they choose in the 60s. Robin's got at least an aunt Periwinkle, and an uncle Salmon [goes by Sal for short!])
Mr. Buckley is the son of Italian immigrants and spoke it at home growing up, Mrs. Buckley was the daughter of French immigrants and did the same, which is how Robin first got her love of language speaking three different ones at home! Richard Buckley loves to cook and little chicklit Robin helped him with a special kitchen foot stool 🥺 and also he is very dad-shaped I think. Melissa probably is the one between the two to decide she's going to read war and peace in one sitting (original Russian optional) and make derisive noises at parts she doesn't like but won't elaborate on what happened. Also she is probably the one to play an instrument (maybe saxophone or bassoon?) There is at least one Buddha in the Buckley house.
I think her parents are supportive to the best of their abilities. Maybe they were in a really welcoming scene before Robin was born (also. Depending on when Robin was born [I've said she's a December 67 baby in a fic but I'm really not picky] she could be a summer of love baby and when she realised this she was horrified and refused to acknowledge it ever again lmao.) And so they pick up some...vibes when Robin was young and would moon over pretty teachers or princesses, give each other Significant Looks when she did.
Robin's line about her mom reminding her she rambles I think is just natural strain between parent and child, and possibly even her mom trying in an awkward and seemingly harsh way to protect her because Robin does have some clearly neurodivergent traits, which people can find off putting and she might be picked on for.
Love what you're putting down with Mrs. Buckley saying they'd always love her to show they'll stay by her if she comes out. But I think the delivery would be more. "Robin, we will always love you. Always..." Here she paused to think of something that isnt about being gay but would still convince Robin even if they thought it was bad they'd be there. "Even if you...decided you wanted to be a c-🤢 a cop. Or maybe even...🤢 Joined the🤮 military..." While Mr. Buckley is looking at his wife trying to charade to her that this is NOT a convincing speech!!
When they meet Steve and he and Robin are just hanging all over each other and bickering, and the Buckleys have to take a step back because did they get it wrong? They like Steve and he seems delighted to meet them and spend time with Robin and is so obviously fond of her... Of course people can like both but they were pretty sure Robin didn't...but her and Steve fit together so nicely.....except when Melissa brings up that it'd be perfectly alright for her to introduce Steve as her boyfriend Robin makes a gagging sound and screeches that he is her best friend and just because she sometimes want to crawl into his brain does not mean she ever wants to crawl into his pants.
Neither Melissa or Richard Buckley actually know what to do with that.
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writingpei · 10 months
Text
wicked games (l.m.) - chapter fourteen
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previous chapter series masterlist next chapter
pairing: lee minho x reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 5.2k words
i still don't know where everything went
it was practically possible to hear the sound of the clock hands moving second by second in the silent room, filling the environment with a constant tick-tock. the pen's weight was tangible in her palm, as if it were made of lead, and the rhythm of its heavy strain fed the up and down movement of her chest, drenched in nervousness that didn't seem to have disappeared.
the minutes continued to pass, and the questions on the physics test in front of y/n were answered one by one, with absolute caution, as if she was following a fragile surgery, as if at any moment some bogeyman might appear out of nowhere in the room if she wasn't delicate.
she was well aware that her decision to go to work had significantly reduced the time she would put into her academic performance, but she was never someone who allowed herself to be easily shaken.
now, it was no longer her who taught hyunjin, but studied with him, keeping an eye out for the materials he reviewed when there weren't any in the cafe so that she could take advantage of even the free seconds she had, which became scarcer with the pass the days.
she knew she was being left behind in the eternal competition that was her and minho's relationship, and despite all the hate that many viewers would consider "uncalled for", she found herself a little scarred by an anger that burned her chest like a forrest. fire whenever she saw him in the hallways, backs against lockers laughing out loud at silly things with his friends without a care in the world. the poster child for the aristocratic lifestyle of today's society, a boy with the world in his hands and people who worked for him cleaning his shoes kneeling on the floor of the huge mansion he lived in.
it was nothing more than a raw and genuine hatred inside y/n when all the paths her mind went through when thinking about minho came to the inevitable conclusion that this, all of this was a sport for him. studying was a sport, getting good grades was a sport, excelling, being popular, winking at dumb girls across the cafeteria like you were television's newest heartthrob. it was all one big joke and when she looked at how she led her life, the lack of jokes was almost suffocating, a snake around her neck all the time just waiting for the right time to coil completely against her flesh.
when she felt pathetic, she tried to imagine him cleaning the cafeteria bathrooms using only a toilet brush, or having to listen to customers throwing tantrums over a cup of coffee with a smile on his face, not being able to retort or shout back. these thoughts brought her out of her own exasperated situation and made her laugh. she couldn't tell if it was because of the strangeness of minho's presence in these scenarios, how he would look wearing the uniform she has to wear every day, or if it was because, greater than this hatred was the restless desire that maybe, just maybe, lee minho wasn't exactly how she imagined he was.
but she knew it was impossible for that to be real. it was impossible because minho had only shown her his true personality, so she knew her like no one else.
the anger heats up until it cools down and settles in the throat like a stone, accompanied by a feeling of disgust. despite the considerable efforts she had made, her second-place name on the huge ranking list at the entrance to the school screamed in her face that they hadn't been enough. and the damn name of minho was above hers. she could only feel disgust. disgusted because of him? it was no longer a surprise to anyone. however, the disgust she felt was mostly directed at herself. she should have studied harder, spent more late nights studying until her hand ached and her eyes burned with exhaustion.
but now it was too late, and his failure was exposed to all who walked those halls. the feeling of dismay followed her, like a constant shadow, reminding her that her expectations were not met and that she had lost the opportunity to win.
as soon as she turned to flee to the classroom for her first class of the day, she saw minho walking towards the panel, eyes glazed over the top to see who had won, who had gotten the best grade.
she didn't wait long to witness the look of satisfaction on his stupid face and soon she was stomping against the floor, a red fury circling her entire body and she didn't even consider taking a step to the side to avoid him, and she certainly didn't feel pity when she bumped into him with her shoulder, knocking him off balance slightly.
she only heard a scoff behind her but didn't even bother to turn around, however much she felt like it when she heard him whisper “you need to be tamed, jesus”
but, contrary to what one might imagine, no ghost of a smile appeared on minho's lips when he saw his name at the top. all he could think about was what it meant to have his name on top of all those others, a hierarchy. he imagined his father's satisfaction at seeing him do exactly what he'd demanded, a silent submission, a reminder that minho was just the son and that no matter how much he kicked and rebelled, his father would always win.
he felt a bitter taste in his mouth.
“minho" yongbok appeared beside him magically, as if he had materialized there. “i met professor choi on his way here and he asked me to give you your test and congratulated you on first place”
the sheet of paper that yongbok held out to minho made a wave of discomfort run down his spine, but he took it from his best friend's hand none the less.
he looks down at the sheet and looks at the shoulder where the girl had bumped into it on purpose for a few seconds, before the urge to rip the test in half takes over him. ripped it into a thousand pieces and threw it in the nearest garbage, leaving yongbok with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
he pointed at minho, then at the trash can, then at minho, then at the trash can.
“but… why?” he asked.
“it’s just a stupid test, yongie” he shrugged putting his hands in the pocket of his uniform pants and walking unbothered while some people congratulated him on his performance in the hall.
but yongbok didn't understand, so he chose to ask more.
“stupid? i thought you cared about that kind of thing”
“no, at least not now. i have other things keeping me up all night”
“i wonder who that is…” yongbok whispers and pushes the big glasses back into place with his finger.
“what was that?” minho asks suspiciously, having just heard rumbles coming from the friend. minho still can't quite catch the things he whispers when he doesn't want him to hear. it's a normal thing to happen within their friendship, yongbok doesn't know how to shut up and minho can't mature enough to leave his nosy lifestyle behind.
“do you want to go with me to the varsity basketball game on friday?” yongbok asks him as they walk through the noisy halls. minho never went to a basketball game with him in all their years of friendship because when minho didn't want to do something, nothing could make him do it, it didn't matter how much he loved his best friend.
but this time, unlike previous opportunities, minho had a real and concrete reason for not wanting to go. a person, to be precise. as he dragged his steps down the hall, he could see the blond boy approaching, standing out among the other bustling and noisy football players. a feeling of disgust that rose from his feet to his head in a matter of seconds took over his entire body, while yongbok, beside him, seemed mesmerized by the presence of the school's basketball team.
minho's eyes locked on the approaching figure. he had never noticed hwang hyunjin until he bloomed in his field of vision like a very insistent weed. apparently he was the only one who hadn't fallen into the hands of the undeniable charisma he didn't care to hide. for minho, beneath that charming smile and effortless charm, there's something about hyunjin that rubbed him the wrong way. he couldn't explain if it was a gratuitous animosity that resided in the back of his mind, but it was strong enough to make his breath get heavier every time he saw him.
his friend turns to him so quickly, minho wonders if he had a whiplash.
“please minhoooo” for a second he thinks that yongbok, the shy and withdrawn boy who never raised his hand to ask a classroom question in his life was going to kneel on the floor of the packed hallway and beg.
the group of basketball players passes by the two and the air in the hallway disappears for minho. hyunjin smiles at his friends without a care in the world as he hears one of them saying “hyunjin, your pitch was great! i've never seen anyone score that far from the basket!”, cheeks reddening a little at the cheers of his teammates.
minho's eyes travel between him and his friend a few times, until his expression suddenly darkens and he turns to yongbok. “calm down” he says, seeing his best friend's anxious expression. “no need to make a scandal out of it, i’ll go with you”
the words are bitter in his throat but yongbok opens a huge smile and it seems once again that he is going to throw himself on his knees in the corridor, this time to thank him, but minho doesn't give him time to do that and soon starts walking towards the classroom for their first class, lip between teeth and head away from where his feet were taking him.
y/n has never had an easy time functioning in crowded places, a bonus is when those (many) people are screaming like animals and squirming in their seats as if they were trying to keep from flying off their chairs.
her constant hesitation to enter the large gymnasium in the midst of all the revelry and excitement was constant throughout his journey from the cafe to school, under the slowly darkening sky, leaving a gentle farewell to the brightness of the day and giving way to night. her journey was longer than she thought it was going to be, partly because her shift had been increased by a few minutes and her insecurity forced her feet to walk more slowly, needless to say, she was obviously late.
but all roads lead to rome or whatever, and she's been staring at the entrance to the gym for the last few minutes as if, if she walked in, she would be consumed by it.
the screams that rang out to her from the other side, outside the party, were wild and just made her want to get as far away as she could and go seek comfort in the dark and lonely cubicle that was her home, but her feet remained rooted to the ground, neither going in nor leaving.
she just found the courage to put her hand on the doorknob because she remembered the message that hyunjin had sent her earlier: a photo of the place he had reserved specifically for her. it was a front row seat, the most privileged and coveted by those who genuinely enjoy that spectacle of sweaty men hitting each other and running like dogs after a ball.
the seat was the most apparent and she was late, hyunjin must have noticed. she just opened the door because of that. she didn't want to upset him and destabilize him in his most important game, and he really wanted her to be there, for some reason.
sea ​​of ​​screams and cheers hit her full on as soon as the door was opened and the exasperated sound of tennis shoes against the polished wood of the court floor showed that the game was already close. y/n walked quickly to the only empty seat right in front of the court, where there was a yellow sticky note with the word “RESERVED” written in large, shaky letters, staining the paper black.
she sat quickly, taking in every detail of what was going on around her. hyunjin's team was dressed in vibrant orange jerseys, while the rival school's team sported uniforms in a deep shade of dark blue. the players on hyunjin's team moved around the court with an almost choreographed precision, like roots in a perfectly rehearsed dance.
the ball did not remain for more than five seconds in the hands of a single player, passing quickly from one side to the other. it was a frenzy of intense contests, a relentless battle for control of the element that dictates the game. every possession was a source of palpable tension.
it wasn't hard to find hyunjin in the middle, the hair gave it away, vibrating as if it wanted to be seen, to draw attention. he had a focused look on his face, his feet moving him across the court with mastery, and for the first time, she could understand why he wanted so badly to devote his life to this. she definitely hadn't seen him with the same full of life eyes looking at the endless math worksheets.
the court came alive with every jump, every dribble and every accurate shot. energy pulsed through the air, enveloping everyone present, as excited fans applauded and cheered with each play behind her back. it was as if the game itself was a living entity with a life of its own.
in the blink of an eye the ball stops in hyunjin's hands. his eyes quickly scanned the opposing defense, looking for an opening, and with a dribble he was already heading towards the basket. his purposeful stride, hard against the floor, stopped abruptly and morphed into a jump, and at the apex of his rise, he reached out, releasing the ball in a perfect arc.
the entire gym exploded with joy as soon as the ball went into the basket. hyunjin returned to the floor with a smile and a heavy breath, and his gaze went directly to her chair, regretting y/n not having seen his move.
but she had already arrived and was right there.
y/n didn't scream or jump, but a discreet smirk and slow clapping was her celebration for her friend's point, and he was happy because that was the most he could get out of her in that situation. she found herself silently rooting for hyunjin and his team, even though she didn't want to admit it. she didn't want to budge on something she considered so silly, but they were friends now, weren't they? hyunjin had said they were, but his words that could very well be empty didn't make her discover what it was like to be friends with someone overnight, and as much as she imagined that the normal thing within a friendship was to share that kind of joy, the idea of ​​opening herself up to someone still made her body tingle and her breath hitch.
but at that moment, where his teammates were ruffling her hair and congratulating him, she couldn't stop herself from clapping louder, only stopping when the game had returned to normal and the frantic rushing back and forth across the street square will return.
her attention, however, was stolen when her phone started to vibrate inside her purse, which was an unusual occurrence, giving that she almost never received messages.
she reached down to retrieve it from the bag that was on the floor beside her chair, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the “ignore” contact texting.
ignore:
i need to talk to you
ignore:
it's about the study groups thing we have to prepare
her gaze goes up once more to the game, but the magic was gone, which was normal with anything that lee minho got into; for her, ruined. a wave of anger crept up her spine like a parasite. why did he have to send a message right now? it wasn't like she expected minho not to be an inconvenience in general, but she wasn't going to stop being irritated with him no matter how much his antics were awaited.
y/n:
i can't, i'm busy
the message was written with exasperated fingers, and quickly sent. but realized she had forgotten to add something.
y/n:
and don't text me anymore, i'll talk to you tomorrow morning
when she was about to put the phone back in her purse, the screen lit up again, revealing yet another message. she couldn't fight the instinct to ignore it and soon brought it close to her face once more.
ignore:
own, you'd rather i call than text and you're too embarrassed to admit it?
ignore:
if you want to hear my voice so badly, let's meet in the schoolyard to talk about what we have to do
her face heated with anger and embarrassment, even though she was never going to admit that he elicited any reaction from her that wasn't just hatred and disgust.
y/n:
no
y/n:
i already told you i'm busy, minho, i know you can't help but be a pain in the ass 24/7 but now is not a good time, you'll have a lot of time to bother me tomorrow
her attention was snapped back to the game once more as the crowd roared, and apparently hyunjin had scored yet another point. he was smiling as he looked at her in the crowd and gave her a thumbs up, which she instinctively returned without thinking.
the messages stopped for a few minutes and she thought he had left her alone once and for all, but the shy vibration that indicated a new message made her huff and quickly bring the phone closer.
ignore:
i thought you really wanted to be student president, but i guess you just wanted the win, my mistake
ignore:
i'll have to do all of it by myself…
and now he was teasing her pride at his fingertips, and the anger she knew so well every time she interacted with or thought about him came on like a lightswitch.
minho knew he was pushing all the right buttons to piss her off, partly because of years of practice with everything to do with her and partly because he was looking at her, higher up in the bleachers, with a hawk's stare.
from the moment she had entered the court, his eyes had been irrevocably drawn to her, as if she were a walking magnet, and there they remained fixed for a long time. not even when Yongbok grabbed him by the arm, anticipating the basket the player was about to make, could he look away. it was so impossible to even imagine seeing her there, at a high school basketball game. however, what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up was his theory about why she was there. the motive for that was inside the court, moving majestically across the polished floor with a cockiness that minho thought was all he could take in about him. y/n's eyes were glued to hyunjin's figure, and somewhere in his chest he swore that she was playing with his ego somehow, even though he didn't fully understand what that meant.
he was overcome by a brutally suffocating feeling and felt an unchanging urge that he needed to do something soon to break the gaze she was extending towards hyunjin. he needed it, it was almost vital, but if someone asked him why he would have nothing to answer, but he wasn't worried about his lack of motives, much less his thoughts about what it said about him and what he possibly felt for her instead of the insignificance and disdain he so pledged to feel.
he took the cell phone in a swift motion from the pocket of his uniform blazer and went straight to the contact list.
minho had lied the last time they'd seen each other, during the incident of sooyound locking them in the file room. he'd had her number for years, since begining of high school. it had been very difficult to get it and it really was a long journey, but when he got an idea in his head, he didn't give up easily. what if he wanted to start pestering through her on her phone too? what if she disappeared out of nowhere and never went to class again? what if he just wanted to talk to her? it was always good to be prepared, he told himself during the nights when he had trouble sleeping and he checked the list of contacts just to prove to himself that she was still there, that the contact hadn't been magically erased.
one day he had called her in the middle of the night, a year before, just to test if that number really belonged to her. it was two in the morning and the night was silent, so silent it was too loud for me, and sleep would not come to him at all, no matter how many times he tossed and turned in bed. the cell phone magically appeared in his hand and the contact was already open, curiosity bubbled in his chest and he didn't fight against it for a long time, pressing on top of the phone icon and quickly touching the cell phone to his ear.
the ringing noise seemed to go on forever, and minho was starting to get anxious. for a second, he was afraid that she would know he was the one calling and his fingers itched to hang up the call, but as soon as he moved the phone an inch away from his ear, the noise ceased and was replaced by silence.
"hello?" her voice is hoarse on the other end of the line, showing that she had just woken up.
minho's mouth opened slightly, wondering what to reply, but he stopped himself from letting any words escape his lips. perhaps, if he spoke, everything would be ruined, and a giant inexplicable fear rose in his chest.
“it’s 2 in the morning, what the hell...” he could hear her scoff, but it was in a different way from the scoffs she gave in his presence. she sounded more vulnerable, there was a fragility that seemed to echo in her very core. he was also vulnerable. he didn't know if it was the nocturnal silence that stripped him of his usual mask, the games and teasing that used to mark their interactions, but he did know that it was very different from anything he'd ever been through together with her.
“say something” she whispered on the other end of the line like an impatient but gentle plea. gentle was never a word he thought he could use with her, but all the others he could say fled his mind. the sound of her breathing echoed free as he held his to make as little sound as possible on his end of the line. “say something or i will hang up” she says, more determined but still nowhere near her usual attitude.
minho didn't say anything, he just took his hand slowly until it reached his face and covered his own mouth, pressing it. he knew he wouldn't say anything, but even so, he found it necessary to physically forbid himself, as if something was taking over him and he opened his mouth and said something he shouldn't.
she remained for a few more seconds that seemed eternal, only the sound of her breathing and some groans of tiredness for being woken up reached minho's ears, but he waited patiently to see what she would do.
“well, have a good night then” she said softly and minho brought his legs closer to his chest, curling up. “since you decided to call someone at 2 in the morning and not say anything…” she was stubborn no matter the situation. “don’t wake up anyone else with prank calls like you did right now” was the last thing he heard before the call was disconnected. if he was no longer able to sleep, the rest of his night was spent awake trying to imagine if what had happened had just been a hallucination in his head and, after that, he never dared to look at her contact again.
that is, until that moment.
he opened her contact and started sending her messages, messages where he feigned disdain but gulped as he wrote. when she looked away from the phone to look at hyunjin and give him a thumbs up that's when his patience was cut short and he let out a huff through his nose and sat on the edge of his seat, gripping his phone tightly.
“nice shot!” yongbok exclaimed, clapping his hands wildly to celebrate the school's lead in the game. it was only then that he realized that minho's body was turned sideways towards the court, not even watching the game, and after whispering a "what are you doing?" softly, his eyes followed the direction where his best friend was looking, and noticed the scene, where hyunjin was looking at her right after scoring his point and minho's knuckles turning white around the cell phone, which was open in a chat with a contact with the name “y/n”.
“what are you doing?” yongbok repeated it louder this time so that minho could hear. he didn't turn around to answer his friend, he just lowered his head and went back to looking at his cell phone and typing quickly.
“solving something” he answered simply.
minho, now without self-restraint, opted to openly tease her, joking about the fact that she won the election just to get a rise out of her. and he knew it had worked, because her shoulders hunched as she read what he'd written.
the typing symbol appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again and disappeared from view again. minho waited for her answer, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.
y/n:
you have 1 minute and that's it
and her answer made a smile appear on his face, and when she started to rise discreetly from her chair, he quickly got to his feet and started to dodge the people sitting next to him, trying to get to her as quickly as possible.
y/n waited to get out of her chair in the middle of a play, while hyunjin wasn't looking, and made sure to leave her purse on top of the chair so he knew she didn't just leave. she walked discreetly to the entrance of the gym, and when she had passed through the door and was closing it, it was opened on the other side, where minho appeared right in front of her.
her breath shook as soon as she saw him, and he was panting as if he'd hurried to get to her. the realization that he too was watching the game and yet pestering her to talk to her made her even more uncomfortable, and she just took a step back to put distance between them and crossed her arms.
“1 minute, and don't abuse it” she turns around until she leans her back against the wall next to the door and looks at him with her head up and her nose in the air.
minho just took short steps until he stood in front of her, regaining the closeness she broke off, a huge gratification in getting her out of the gym that he couldn't explain.
“sooyoung spoke to me today, she said that we need to do full reports with all students who are interested in joining the tutoring group. i'll do one part and you'll do the other, then we'll put it all together when it's ready,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that he can't quite control.
"is that it?" she asked in disbelief. “is that the only reason you were bugging me nonstop?”
"me?" he chuckled and also crossed his arms, mimicking her. “bugging you? what are you talking about, y/n? i was just talking to you, it's not my fault you get so rilled up every time you talk to me"
she rolled her eyes and stepped away from the wall, taking a small step towards him and looking him in the eyes.
"is that it?"
the proximity made minho stop for a few seconds, just looking back at her, thinking of something to reply to her. time passed slowly and he only awoke from his trance and looked away when a wave of cheers erupted in the gym and escaped through the thin door beside them. he swallows hard and takes a micro step back, backing up slightly.
“that was it” he whispers without any jokes or comebacks, because during all that time nothing came to his mind except the memory of the day he called her in the middle of the night, as if that memory that had been kept for so long had been unlocked into his brain without further ado.
she snorts with a know-it-all look and tries to circle him to make her way back to the gym, but an anxiety creeps up his spine and he unconsciously steps to the side and places himself in front of her once more. she stops in her step so she doesn't bump into him and looks up at him again, confused by his sudden movement.
“what the hell, minh-” before she could finish the sentence, the door next to them bursts open, and hwang hyunjin, breathing quickly for air, appears in their field of vision.
hyunjin looks at y/n and opens a smile the size of the universe and doesn't even notice minho's presence, and even after noticing, he doesn't care.
“y/n!” he exclaims, walking up to the two. "where have you been? you missed the endgame!”
he grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her out of minho's way.
“oh…” she starts to say, shame rising in her chest. she gives minho an angry look, before turning her attention to her friend once more. “i’m sorry, i…”
“we won!” hyunjin exclaims and the hands on her shoulders yanked her forward as he led her back into the gym. “let's go celebrate! you left your bag in there too, didn't you?"
the door closes, leaving minho alone in the night breeze. he gives in to the uncontrollable urge to bring his hands to his face and press them hard against his eyes, wondering what the fuck has been wrong with him lately, and why the shoulders that were relaxed before in her brief presence are tense, once again.
stay tuned for chapter 15! new chapters (almost) every sunday ☆
taglist: @liphglos@kiyoomimybeloved@lilactangerine @swiftlydirectioning @lethallyprotected @yhawnnzz @whatthefsposts@sleepyleeji @ddazed-lhs @thatoneperson1911 @poutingbean (if you want to be a part of the taglist, send me an ask, comment or message <3)
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A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.9
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Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, implied Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister, one sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader
Warnings: cersei just being ugly, both rhaegar and jaime are in the wrong, heartbroken reader consoled by little brother tyrion
Words: 2521
Summary: He claimed he never meant to hurt you, but Rhaegar (and Jaime for that matter) happened to accomplish just that reaffirming your speculation that you’re just difficult to love. 
Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18
Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire
Little Cersei stomps her feet. “But I don’t want another sibling!!” Her charming face twisted and turned into something ugly. Red flamed her cheeks and brimmed her eyes. She was always given everything due to her childish beauty, this however was a matter that she would not win. There was nothing she could do; no amount of tantrums or tears could stop what was going to happen.
Her younger twin, Jaime, was perched next to their heavily pregnant mother. His tiny hands pressed against her stomach with slight wonder. A small index finger taps against it, half expecting maybe to hear or feel something back. Jaime presses his ear against Joanna’s bulging abdomen, unconcerned with his sister’s outburst.
Joanna chuckles patiently, weaving her fingers between strands of Jaime’s golden hair. “Now now Cersei. I’m sure you’ll love them. You haven’t even met them yet.”
She huffs, crossing her arms haughtily in front of her. “It better not be a girl. I want to be the only girl!”
Her lady mother shakes her head, still smiling at her eldest child. Cersei had been acting like this from the very moment Joanna told her children that she was expecting another child.
“Why do you have to have another baby? Aren’t Jaime and I enough?”
“Enough Cersei.” Lord Tywin tsks and puts down his quil to softly glare at his daughter. He was started to get annoyed at her constant complaining. “The more children we have the better. All families thrive on heirs. It makes our family stronger. The more lions, the louder the roar.”
She didn’t care about lions. She cared about the attention she would lose from her parents because of a new baby. The attention she might lose from Jaime too. Cersei hated the idea of someone taking her Jaime away. It already looked like Jaime was growing fond of their new sibling. If it were to be born a girl. . .
That made her all the more angry.
Cersei still remembered the day when she gained a sister.
That day was branded deep into her memory as the day she lost her dear mother’s favor. Beautiful Joanna Lannister who possessed the palest skin that Cersei had ever seen. Much like fresh milk, she always liked to compare it to. On that day though that her sister was born, Joanna’s smooth cheeks were glowing with a vibrant red hue that told everyone of the strain she had to endure to deliver her long awaited third child. Even back then Cersei always thought of (y/n) as an ugly little beast. Perhaps even more so than Tyrion.
Her life went down hill the moment (y/n) popped out from Joanna.
Oh how Joanna was just so in awe of the bundle in her arms. There was a shine that Cersei had never known in her mother’s eyes. Of course Joanna beckoned her twins closer so that they too could get a look at their new sister. The joy that was on Joanna’s face was enough to make the jealousy rise in Cersei. She had always been the jealous type, she acknowledged that. How could she not when both her mother and brother were preoccupied with the squawking baby in her arms? Jaime had taken a brave step forward, curious to look upon the face of his new sibling.
“Her name is (y/n).” Joanna cooed sweetly. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Cersei scrunched up her nose. That was the last thing she thought the baby was. A loud, ugly, monkey was more like it.
“Do all babies look like that mother?” Jaime asked innocently enough until Cersei added snidely “Yeah, do they all look that ugly?”
The smile fell from Joanna’s lips and a part of Cersei felt bad for making her mother upset. Just as quickly as she had lost it, her smile returns as does her gaze toward (y/n).
“You’ll understand when you have your own children. Babies are always beautiful in their mother’s eyes. I had a dream just before I went into labor. About (y/n). One day she will be a queen. I know it. She’ll be a wonderful and kind queen too.”
“What about me?” Cersei could already feel her cheeks redden with indignation. “I’m gonna be a queen too!”
Joanna didn’t seem to listen as she brought her heart shaped lips to (y/n)’s tiny head. “Yes. I know you’ll be a queen my sweet (y/n).”
~
Cersei felt like she was losing to (y/n) all over again.
Bitterly looking out from her window she felt bile form in her throat as she furiously called back to but a few hours ago. She had invited Jaime to her room so that they could make love. After all she was celebrating. It was all over the Keep that (y/n) no longer wanted to marry Rhaegar. A fool she was. Cersei had half feared that her mother’s prediction was becoming true. From the moment their engagement was announced, Cersei had been haunted by Joanna’s words. It just couldn’t have been true.
She had been overjoyed at the news. But when she was expressing said joy, Jaime seemed less enthused. Even going so far as to snap at her. Jaime had never snapped at her. Never in all the years they had been alive. He had snapped at her though and taken (y/n)’s side.
That green flame of jealousy licked at the walls of her belly.
She didn’t want to think that perhaps Jaime loved (y/n) the way he did her. No. (y/n) wouldn’t get Jaime. She had already gotten Joanna and Rhaegar. Cersei would never allow her to take Jaime away from her.
*
“I was- no- I am a fool.”
Jaime scoffs. “That much is clear.”
You quickly shoot a tentative glance at Griff, expecting him to jump out of his seat and once again defend his prince’s honor. The red haired knight controlled himself very well. All you noticed of his agitation was the tightening of his jaw and the hardening of his eyes.
The four of you had been called into Rhaegar’s personal quarters to discuss the events that had just transpired. You wanted to be anywhere but there yet even you knew you had to listen to whatever Rhaegar had to say despite your still wounded heart. It throbbed painfully inside of you as it felt like the freshly made scab was being viciously ripped off.
Rhaegar ignores your brother and looks at you with such naked honest that squeezed at your heart. “I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. My heart betrayed you. Such a sweet girl that I care for so deeply. A girl that-”
“Get on with it. Tell me what you did. Say it out loud!” Your brother barks. You flinch at the harshness of his voice. You never did like it when men yelled. It was such an aggressive sound that always made you nervous.
Violet eyes actually narrow to glare at Jaime. He keeps his tone level as he continues. “I dared to think that I had fallen in love with another woman. A betrothed woman.”
Right as he said that you felt all of Jaime’s anger radiate off of him as he struggled to stay in his seat and remain somewhat calm. He was lucky that the other guards swore to be silent about what had happened in the courtyard. They respected Rhaegar and would never betray him. Even if it meant keeping quiet about a threat made toward him.
Just to placate your brother you hesitantly place your hand on top of Jaime’s. His skin jumps at the contact but he visibly settled down; his green eyes glancing from his periphery to look at you.
“You dared to think? What does that mean?” Voice tight you wish it were more smoother and that it didn’t convey how you really felt.
Running a tongue over his bottom lip Rhaegar looks down for a moment before returning your gaze. “Whatever I felt for Lyanna Stark means nothing. Perhaps I romanticized that mere meeting. I was just. . .” He chose his next words carefully. “I was just so caught off guard by her.”
You knew Rhaegar had not intended his words to be painful, but they were. No matter how he phrased it, Rhaegar had still felt attracted to another woman. Evidently someone who was much more beautiful than you.
“What connection would we have though compared to what you and I have.” Rhaegar says gently. “I still want to marry you (y/n). Not out of duty but because I want to be with you.”
Tongue feeling incredibly heavy in your mouth you look away from Rhaegar.
“I’ve heard enough.” Jaime hisses and takes your arm. “All I hear from you is a half assed way of trying to fool my sister into marrying you. For what? So that you could betray her again? So that you could sneak behind her back with a northern girl?”
You yank your arm away from him and finally spit out “Don’t touch me! Like you’re any better!”
All three men flinch at the venom in your tone. It was even something new to you. You didn’t know what was happening to you. You were just so fed up of people lying to you. So tired of being someone’s second choice. You didn’t want anyone to pretend to love you anymore.
“How can I trust either of you?” Hands shaking you fight your way toward the bedroom door. “The both of you are nothing but liars!”
Perhaps you weren’t being fair yet at that moment you didn’t really care what was fair.
“My lady?” Thalina frets about you. You knew she meant well but you didn’t want to be around anyone at the moment.
“Can you make a fire and send Tyrion here please? I could really use a bit of cheering up from the one male who has yet to disappoint me.” You slump down in a chair with not the least bit of grace.
Thalina presses her lips together, wanting to say something, but knows better and does as you had told her. Once she sets a fire up in the fireplace she leaves to go fetch your brother.
Sullenly you stare at the fire, watching the flames dance so effortlessly in such a tangent of movement that had you slightly hypnotized. It was so soothing the way it moved and licked around the logs. You move from your seat and go to the fireplace to curl closer to its warmth. It filled up the hurt that had seemed to make your chest so vacant and empty. You felt the very fire from the hearth set ablaze in your chest. Lulling you into a cozy tiredness, you felt your eyelids droop. That was until you caught something odd in the orange glow of the fire that reminded you of the beautiful marigold flowers that bloomed in the garden of the Keep. You will your eyes to open and gaze deeper into the fire. It flickered oddly, movement that fire wasn’t normally supposed to make. Moving in a strange arrangement you felt the pull of something otherworldly that made you train your eyes on it. An image appeared to you in colors of yellow and gold. You felt your heart race for some unknown reason and your fingertips curling against the stone of the fireplace. A winged creature flew among the flames that you knew very well to be a dragon. What other creature could be so massive and have such a great wingspan? On it’s back was a figure. You couldn’t make out any features of the figure, try as you might.
Thalina’s voice made you jump away from the fire, panting from the intensity you had just experienced. She’s startled by your wide eyed expression as she hesitates to bring in Tyrion who stands excitedly in the frame of the door, unaware of what has perturbed you.
“A-Are you alright, my lady?” She simpers, standing back a bit. You must’ve looked like a wild, frightened animal sitting so close to the fire.
You run your hand over your warm face and turn your face away for a moment to regain yourself. Surely you hadn’t just been imagining things. The image you had seen. . . It was as clear as day. Not just some trick your mind was playing on you.
Taking a deep, calm, breath, you said “Yes. . . yes I’m fine.”
Your maid hesitates but advances with your little lord right behind her. “I have brought Tyrion just as you asked.”
Having the energy like any normal child his age, he pushes past Thalina and hobbles over to you. Your brain still felt murky and sluggish as if you very well had been asleep the entire time.
You manage a lazy smile as Tyrion wraps his short arms around your neck. His golden Lannister curls softly tickle your cheek as you hold him close to you.
“Is it true you’re not gonna marry Rhaegar anymore?”
Gossip sure did spread quickly, even to small children like Tyrion. Pursing your lips you glance uncertainly to Thalina who ducks her head and exits your room. “Where did you hear that from?”
He rolls his mismatched eyes a bit and it makes you grin. You should’ve known better. Everyone thought him an invalid due to his dwarfism, but he was as sharp as a tack. “Everyone talks around me, thinking I don’t pay attention. Is it true?”
“Things have happened that have made me think twice about this engagement. But. . . I suppose it’s too late to call it off, huh?”
“What happened? You were so happy a few days ago!” He was highly observant too.
You knew that Tyrion would’ve made a great lord of Casterly Rock had it not been for your father.
How could you put it in terms that a young child could understand? For even if Tyrion was incredibly smart for his age it was highly unlikely that he would understand the adult heart. He need not worry about things like that yet.
Sighing deeply you sit him down right in front of you. For a moment he glances at the fire and you wonder if he saw anything like you had. Those thoughts are dashed away as he returns his concentration on you, clearly uninterested in anything the flames had to offer. You open your mouth, uncertain where to begin. Gazing at his intelligent eyes you knew that you could only tell the blunt truth.
“Rhaegar does not love me. He loves someone else.”
Tyrion’s pronounce brows furrow. “How can he not love you? You’re the nicest person! Who does he love?”
You were amused by Tyrion’s outrage and all moodiness escaped you. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Many people marry without there being any love.”
“Doesn’t that make you sad though?”
“Of course it does. It’s just something I’ll have to learn to live with. That’s how the adult world works.”
His hand reaches up to caress your cheek.
You find yourself crying again at Tyrion’s gentleness.
--------
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daydreamtofiction · 1 year
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Thou Shalt Not Covet // 4: Sacrilege
Contents | Part 3 | First Person Version [AO3]
Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Fem Reader) One-on-one time with the priest comes with its perks, some you weren't fully prepared for.
Word Count: 5K
Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, smoking (cigarettes), discussions of death, grief, religion and strained familial relationships. Readers must be 18+
Disclaimer: In this chapter, F. Benedict makes reference to a brother. I just want to stress that this is 100% my own fictional narrative and in no way based on/referencing the real life sister of BC.
Finally, sorry to anyone named Soleil - I actually really like that name, Ellis, however, does not lol.
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"Posture." 
You peeled your eyes away from the computer screen to find Dawn, the studio receptionist, in the doorway of your office. She nodded her head towards you, raising an eyebrow in silent demand as she crossed her arms, waiting. You rolled your eyes and slowly began to sit up properly in your chair, feeling the curve of your spine straightening out, an ache at the base of your neck as your shoulders realigned. 
"That's better," she said, the same way a mother would commend a child. "There's a woman at reception asking for you." 
"Oh?" you replied with a furrowed brow. "Okay, I'll just be a second." 
She nodded and disappeared from the doorway as you returned your attention to the photo you were editing; a tiny baby curled up on a cloud, its bald head adorned with a fluffy white halo. You saved your progress and switched off the screen, thankful for the break. 
You made your way through the building to reception, pushing through a large set of double doors into the bright, welcoming foyer.
"Mara?" you asked, taking a few steps towards the front desk.
The woman standing there turned around, brushing her hair back to reveal a face you knew, a set of eyes you'd both inherited. 
"Hi," she said, her voice breathless and agitated as she struggled to hold a fidgeting baby in one arm. "I've got a session booked and you said I could use your discount. I told them I'm your sister but they need approval from you to put it through." 
"Oh, right, yeah." You turned to Dawn as she sat at the computer behind the front desk. "Can you-"
"Already doing it," she replied, typing and clicking with her long nails.
"Thanks." 
"Thanks," Mara echoed before turning around and walking away. 
You watched her for a moment, realising she had no intentions of sharing any more words with you. 
"Hey, so how are... How have you been doing?" you asked awkwardly as you followed her over to the waiting area.
She sat down, laying the baby back in her pram and beginning to roll it back and forth. "Yeah, okay," she replied with a shrug. "Soleil's been colicky so..." 
Soleil. Jesus Christ. Nine months of pregnancy and a torn vagina just to call your baby fucking Soleil. 
There was a long silence as you stood in front of her, hands behind your back, lips pressed together. She was nine years older than you, but you might as well have been born centuries apart, as good as strangers if it wasn't for the unmistakeable resemblance. She insisted she loved you, but she was better at doing so from a distance; in a way that made your differences easier to ignore. 
You gestured to the baby. "Is... she sleeping better?"
"A little. She still wakes through the night but she's eight weeks old, it's to be expected." 
You nodded. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch much, I just thought you'd probably want your space with... Soleil." You gritted your back teeth, forcing the name out. "And after what happened at Christmas, I didn't want to..."
"Yeah, well I haven't been in touch either so don't worry about it." 
There was another long silence, the kind of silence that seemed to expand, consuming everything, begging to be filled. 
She was the first to give in to it, letting out a quiet sigh. "Will you be editing Soleil's photos?"
"I don't know. They assign them randomly, but if her files end up at my desk then yeah." You paused. "I can try and see if they'll make sure her pictures come to me-"
"No, no it's fine. I was just wondering." 
"Oh okay." You glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Well I better get going anyway, I'm going to miss my train."
"Now?" she looked at the clock too. "Where are you going?" 
"Yeah I'm finishing early. Meeting a friend." 
"Gina?"
You shook your head. "A new friend," you said as you began to walk away, before stopping and turning back towards her, like you couldn't help yourself. "He's a priest."
"Piss off."
"No, really."
"Why on earth are you leaving work early to spend time with-" she stopped suddenly, letting out a disappointed huff. "Oh, Ellis."
"What?"
"Of all people, a priest, really?"
Your brows scrunched together. "I'm n- I'm not... Mara, I have a boyfriend-"
"Mm, doesn't seem to stop anyone nowadays." She sat back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. 
You rolled your eyes. "I have to go. Enjoy your shoot." 
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You were expecting the scent of baking bread. Cookies perhaps, maybe even coffee. But instead, the shop smelled like fresh paint, sawdust and window cleaner. You didn't mind it, actually, finding it oddly pleasant, like when you were a child and you would hang your head out of the window of your father's car, inhaling the smell of fuel as he filled up at the petrol station. 
There was a healthy crowd inside; a long queue at the shiny new counter, people sitting at spotless tables in kitschy, pastel coloured chairs. You looked around in search of Father Benedict, wondering if you'd somehow managed to beat him there. You hoped not. 
"Ellis!" his voice called over the crowd. 
You glanced around, trying to decipher where it was coming from when you finally saw him. He was sat at a small table, tucked away in the corner beside the window. You hurried over and sat down, gesturing to a cup of coffee on the table. 
"Is this for me?" 
"Yeah, it's just a cappuccino, I hope that's alright." 
"It's fine, thank you." 
You lifted the large, round cup to your lips, sipping on it politely as you eyed him over the rim. He was leaning back in his chair, hands resting gently on his thighs as he peered over at the bustling queue, providing you the perfect view of his neck, his jawline, how it tensed and softened as he moved. 
He was wearing jeans and a grey jumper, the cabled wool clinging like armour to his body, sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms. You'd never found yourself attracted to someone's arms before you met him. It seemed strange, to find limbs sexy. But it was the thoughts they elicited; how you could picture them holding you so firmly. 
"It's a lot busier than I thought it would be," he said before turning his attention back to you. "Now it looks like I lied just to get you to come." 
"Mm." You placed the cup down. "If you were that desperate to spend time with me, Father, all you had to do was ask." 
There was a moment before he laughed, a split second where you could have sworn you saw his gaze turn dark, a primal look in his eyes. But it was fleeting, so evanescent you doubted if you'd seen anything at all.
"Maybe next time I'll suggest somewhere a bit closer to home," he said, still smiling as he took a sip of his own coffee. "And please don't feel like you have to call me Father today, This is... we're just- we're here as friends, so..."
"Thank you, but I'm not sure my brain would even allow me to call you Benedict. Feels... sacrilegious." 
He smirked, looking around for a moment before leaning in and lowering his voice. "What feels sacrilegious is strangers with no idea I'm a priest overhearing the woman I'm with calling me Father." 
"Oh you're fine. It'd be a different story if I started calling you Daddy." 
He dropped his head and breathed out a stunned laugh. You cocked your head to get a glimpse of his face, assessing his bashful, flustered reaction with an intrigued smile.
"So the clergyman knows what that means," you said, propping your chin on your hand, elbow resting on the table. "Interesting..." 
"Of course I know what it means; I live in a rectory, not under a rock." 
You raised an eyebrow, bringing the cup back to your lips. "Ah, so you get full internet access then?" 
He paused, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what you meant. Then it clicked, and you watched as he fought another smirk. 
"Priests aren't allowed to do... that," he said simply, his voice dark, low. 
"Which bit? The watching or the taking part?" 
"Any of it." 
"Not at all?" you asked, lip curling in disbelief. 
He laughed quietly. "Not supposed to. I don't." 
"Never?" 
"Well of course I've- You know there was a time before I took my vows...?" 
"So you went from being... active, in that way, to now just not even thinking about it? At all?"
"I think about it constantly," he replied bluntly. "But that's part of this whole gig, isn't it; resisting, choosing to remain faithful to God, not giving in to temptation. It's literally in the Lord's Prayer - 'and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.'" 
"Sex is far from evil, it's fucking amazing." 
"Not the sex you're having by the sounds of it." 
Your mouth fell open with a scoffing laugh. "Touché." 
He chuckled into his coffee. "Sorry, that was a low blow. You confided in me, I shouldn't use it against you."
"No, it was funny. You said yourself, we're just friends today." 
He smiled, leaning back and crossing his arms comfortably over his chest, looking out the window at the busy high street. 
"Oh, speaking of," he said. "Did you get a chance to look at the bible passages I annotated for you? I thought they might help with your... situation." 
"Friends today," you repeated, pressing your mouth into an unamused smile. 
"Right, sorry." 
The truth was that you had looked at the passages. You'd taken the bible home, its pages adorned with small post-it notes of his analysis and interpretation, advice on how to implement the teachings into your life. 
You'd lay down on your bed and began reading them, but somewhere down the line, musing over his writing turned into musing over him. And before you knew it, the book was closed beside you, your hand slipping down the front of your trousers as you pictured his fingers there instead of your own.
"Thank you so much for coming!" a voice appeared beside your table. 
You looked up to see a woman smiling down at you both, an apron tied around her waist, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. You assumed it was Catherine, her sweet, soft voice a perfect fit for the cutesie decor. 
"I can't believe you came," she said to Father Benedict. "I really thought reaching out to you would be a shot in the dark." 
"Of course I came," he replied as he gestured to you. "And I brought reinforcements. Though clearly it wasn't needed; this place is booming." 
"Ah well, we have a really great community here. And a lot of gluten free people, apparently." 
They both laughed as you sat there awkwardly, suddenly forgetting how to act like a real person. 
"I have to tell you it's wonderful to see you," she continued. "The parish has been a shambles since you left."
"Oh, stop, don't be silly." He waved his hand shyly. 
"No really! Father Martin's great but he's a bit of a stickler, y'know. Not as approachable as you were." 
Approachable or fuckable, Catherine? Be honest. 
"Oh well that's very kind," he said as you caught his eye, making him shake his head apologetically. "Oh, sorry, Catherine, this is Ellis. She's an aspiring member of my new parish." 
"Hi, nice to meet you," she said with a smile, before leaning in towards you. "Aspiring member or just another sucker for this one's charming smile?" 
She nudged him jokingly with her elbow and you gave a weak, unconvincing laugh. 
Fuckable. She definitely meant fuckable. 
"Anyway," she said, turning her attention back to him. "There's a few people from choir over here if you want to say hi?" 
"Oh, yes, absolutely!" 
You watched as he rose from his chair and shuffled out from behind the table. 
"I'll just be a second," he said, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. 
You almost melted at his touch, immediately feeling ridiculous for it. It was a pat, a quick, reassuring squeeze, and yet the contact was enough to make you blush, having to hide your face behind another sip from your giant cup. 
You watched from across the shop as he stood talking to a group of people, finding yourself zoning in on the way he interacted with Catherine. She seemed sweet, friendly and naturally tactile, like she was unable to talk without touching him. 
You began to wonder if she was the temptation, if she was the thing that made him question his faith. You wondered if he'd found himself fantasising about her the way you did about him, if he'd left this parish because he could no longer bear the weight of his own desire. 
By the time he returned to your table, you'd finished your coffee, staring down at the remnants of foam and speckles of cocoa powder at the bottom of the cup like you were reading your tea leaves. 
He sat down, placing a pastel pink box on the table between you. "Sorry about that," he said. "Got you some pastries to make up for it." 
"Really?" 
"No."
"Oh."
"Catherine gave them to me. I offered to pay but she said they were on the house; a 'thank you' for coming." 
"Wow, business must be doing well if she's giving away free stuff on the first day." 
He laughed. "I literally just said the exact same thing, word for word-"
"So how do you know her?" 
He paused, taking a moment to register your interruption. "Hm? Oh, she's involved in the church here."
"And I take it you were close?" 
"Erm, well she was a 'regular', if you will; got pretty involved in all the..." he trailed off, narrowing his eyes at you with a slight smile. "Are you jealous?" 
"Jealous of what? The fact that I'm not the first weird woman you've met in a church?" 
"Oh, you're definitely the first weird woman I've met in a-" 
You kicked him gently under the table and a laugh resonated in his throat. It was deep, warm, the kind of sound that elicited tingles, raised the hairs on your arms. If this was his voice in the middle of a busy bakery, you thought, then you could only begin to imagine the sounds he was capable of behind closed doors. 
He scrunched his nose and looked out the window, then back to you. "Fancy stepping outside with me for a second?" 
"What for?" you asked as you felt your heart flutter with nerves, like your body was making assumptions before your brain had even processed his question.
"I could do with a cig," he replied quietly. "Disgusting habit, I know, but-"
"No, it's- Yeah, I'll come." 
You followed him outside, hugging your coat closed to shield yourself from the wind. He slipped down a side street next to the bakery, leaning against the wall and placing a cigarette between his teeth. You watched as he snipped his lighter over and over again, the wind snuffing out the flame each time.
"F'cking hell," he growled, cigarette still in his mouth. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that." 
You exhaled a soft laugh and reached into your pocket. "Would this work any better?" 
He glanced down at the heavy zippo lighter in your hand. 
"I got it for you," you said. "The 'G' stands for 'God'."
He took the cigarette between two fingers and moved it from his mouth, looking down at you in bewilderment. "Are you fucking with me?" 
"Of course I am." 
He rolled his eyes and took it from you. "See, I still can't tell when you're joking," he said, successfully lighting up and tilting his head back to blow out a long plume of smoke. 
"It's my friend's," you said. "She keeps leaving things in my coat." 
"My brother used to do that. Not with my coat, with my car." He laughed, still staring up at the sky as he took another drag. "I'd get in it and his music would start playing, the seat'd be moved forward, stuff all over the passenger seat. He was borrowing my car without asking but not bothering to cover his tracks. Probably because he knew I could never be mad at him for more than five minutes." 
"You have a brother?" 
"Mm." He fell quiet for a moment, a contemplative look on his face, before snapping out of it and smiling at you. "He was quite... troubled, then towards the end he found God. Which is what made me start connecting with my own faith after he-" Another pause, followed by a gentle laugh. "I was so anti-religion back then, if he could see me now, a bloody priest, he'd lose his mind."
You forced a smile, trying to disguise your discomfort as you pressed your mouth closed, teeth digging into the backs of your lips. "So... we're both part of the Dead Brother Club then." 
You grimaced to yourself immediately and looked away, anywhere except directly at him. The Dead Brother Club? Really, Ellis? But like always, he seemed happy to take you in his stride, understanding your intentions without making you explain. 
"I prefer the Surviving Siblings Society," he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile.
"I'm sorry," you began, pausing to clear your throat. "I say things I shouldn't when I'm- Well I'm just not good with knowing what to say or do when people... divulge their... I'm not a very comforting person." 
"That's alright. Because I, on the other hand, like to think I'm a very comforting person. So I can comfort us both." 
"I don't really think I need to be comforted." 
"Then what do you need?"
You. 
"Nothing."
"Everyone needs something." 
You were holding your breath as your gaze held his, and despite the cold weather, the air between you suddenly felt warm and heavy. But you weren't sure why, unable to decipher the look on his face and reluctant to mistake it for something it wasn't. Again. So instead you remained quiet, waiting. 
He took a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the brick wall behind him. "Shall we go somewhere?" 
"Where?" 
"I want to show you something." 
He made his way back around the corner onto the main high street. But instead of going back inside the bakery, he walked straight past it. You began to follow but stopped for a moment near the window, glancing inside at the table you'd been sitting at, the box of untouched pastries he'd left behind.
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You were convinced that once you'd seen one church, you'd seen them all. The greys and browns, stone and wood, old carpets and tall, vaulted ceilings. They all smelled the same too, echoed the same, filtered in the sunlight through multicoloured glass. 
When Father Benedict walked you inside, you felt a pang of disappointment in your chest, the urge to tell him just how similar it was to the church back home. But when you looked up at him and saw his smile, you refrained. 
He wandered around the chapel, his footsteps echoing, fingers grazing over the pews as he passed them. "This was my church," he said. "Before I took my sabbatical. I was the priest here." 
You looked around. "It's... Nice." 
"It's changed. Well, some things have changed - that's new." He pointed to an obnoxiously large statue of Jesus nailed to a cross, the thing crudely lying on its side waiting to be mounted on the wall. 
"Subtle," you said. "I like the artistic choice to lie him on the floor like that."
"Artistic choice," he scoffed out a laugh. 
"Yeah. Really makes you think." 
"About what?" 
"About why he didn't just stand up and run away if he was so close to the ground." 
"Fuck off-" He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around to make sure no one else was there.
You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, but still it tumbled out of you in a mischievous giggle. 
He took a few steps towards you, speaking slowly and quietly. "You, Ellis, are going to get me defrocked." 
"With any luck," you muttered under your breath as he walked away. 
"I heard that." 
Your heart stopped, your eyes snapping up to meet his as he glanced over his shoulder at you. 
"I... It was a joke." 
"I know," he said softly, simply, turning around and making his way up the steps to the altar. 
"So," you began with an awkward cough. "Saw my sister today for the first time since Christmas. Was just about as awkward as you can imagine."
"I take it there's been no improvement since you came to the grief support group?" 
"It's hard. It's like she knows that she's the one to blame for the tension between us and she feels guilty for it, but she doesn't know how to fix it." You wandered slowly up the aisle as you spoke. "Then every time she does start to soften towards me, I do something that pisses her off and we're right back to square one."
"That being Christmas."
"Yep."
"What did you do?"
"Sat in Cain's chair."
"Cain...?"
"Dead brother."
"Ah."
"It was mum's turn to host. She still lives in the house we grew up in, and she always leaves a chair open for Cain at the dining table so it feels like he's there with us or whatever. Anyway, we were sitting down for dinner, and I wasn't really paying attention and I accidentally sat in his chair instead of mine. Mara went mad."
"Could she not rationalise that it was a mistake?"
"Obviously not," you sat down on the bottom step leading up to the altar. "Cain was her best friend, favourite person in the world. I was just the annoying little 'oopsie' our parents had almost a decade after they said they were done having kids. Plus, she was probably a bit extra sensitive, what with all the hormones."
"Hormones?"
"She'd just given birth five days earlier, so..."
"Oh." His tone brightened as he continued to wander around. "So you have a niece? nephew?"
"Niece."
"What's her name?"
You turned your head to look at him, before returning your gaze to your lap. "I'd rather not say."
"Why? It's stupid isn't it."
"Maybe a little bit."
"Go on."
"No."
He began making his way towards you. "Go on." 
"No, honestly it's-"
"Just tell me," he laughed, plonking himself down right beside you.
"Soleil," you finally said, like his closeness made you weak, including your mouth. 
"I think that's pretty."
"Fuck off."
"I do! Makes me think of... sunshine, grace, warmth... It's better than Benedict."
You smiled at him. "What does my name make you think of?" 
His expression seemed to soften, his eyes flitting across your face for a moment. "It just makes me think of you." 
There was a long silence, the enormous space around you somehow feeling so small, so intimate. You broke eye contact first, looking around, as if making sure it was all still there.
"How long ago did you work here?" you asked. 
"I left last year."
"And how long were you... between places?" 
"A few months. Not that long." 
"What did you do? Y'know, while you were... away from it all." 
He took a deep breath, resting forearms on parted thighs. "I went home to my parents'. Stayed in my old childhood room. I helped my mother with the garden, cooked dinner with my father almost every evening, caught up with people I'd left behind when I chose this life." 
You were hanging on his every word, the way everyone always did during his sermons. 
"I read books and watched films and listened to music. I cried, I got drunk, I talked to God and I, I doubted if he was even there." 
"Did you sin?" you asked, almost whispering.
"Everyone sins," he replied with a shrug. "I just sinned two minutes ago when I said 'fuck' inside a church- Oh, there we go, just did it again." 
You smiled before leaning your body towards him. "I mean did you... sin. Like, sin sin. Proper sin.”
He eyed you curiously. "Why do you ask?" 
You paused. "I don't know. Maybe because... If I know a priest can commit sin and still consider himself good, I might be able to forgive myself too." 
"Forgive yourself for what?"  
"For sinning. Keep up, Father." 
He smiled, then swallowed, his jaw flexing as he was thinking. 
"I suppose it's subjective," he finally said. "The bible says if you repent, you can pretty much be forgiven for anything. But forgiving yourself, that's... different. I mean, it depends what you did; if I break commandment three then of course I can forgive myself. Six, on the other hand..." 
You stared at him blankly. 
"The ten commandments...?"
"Rings a bell." 
He dropped his head and laughed, before throwing it back and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay. One: You shall have no other Gods before me." 
"Self explanatory." 
"Yep. As is two:  Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven images. Don't worship false idols. Three: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. And four: Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." 
"What's five?" 
You couldn't believe you were actually finding this interesting. But perhaps it wasn't the subject itself, but the way he spoke about it. How easily the knowledge poured off his tongue, how you were so close you could practically see the words coming up his throat. 
"Honour your father and mother." 
You rolled your eyes and blew a raspberry, making him chuckle. 
"Six is thou shalt not kill, and seven is-"
"Seven is...?" 
He cleared his throat, glancing at you, then down to his hands. "Seven is thou shalt not commit adultery." 
Suddenly, seven was your least favourite number; sharp and angular like a blade. The words hung in the air between you, and you could almost feel Alfie's lips on your skin, like a bruise, an entirely unwelcome souvenir. 
"Eight is thou shalt not steal," he continued. "Nine is thou shalt not bear false witness. Which just means don't lie." 
Now you hated the number nine too. 
"And finally ten: Thou Shalt Not Covet." 
"Covet like... want something?" 
"It's a little more specific than that. To covet means to desire something that belongs to someone else."
You bit the inside of your cheek before looking at him. "Does it count if the thing you desire... belongs to God?" 
He met your gaze, from the corner of his eye at first, before turning his head to face you properly. "You desire something that belongs to God?" 
You had never met anyone so all-consuming before, so utterly captivating that you could feel it in your bones. Drawing you to him. It was in the way he spoke to you, like he'd figured out exactly how you worked; cracked you open and found an instruction manual carved into the wrong side of your skin. You wanted to do that to him; to know him so well that he could feel you in his marrow. 
"Ellis," he said softly, snapping you out of your daze. "You have to stop looking at me like that." 
"Like what?"
"Like I'm not a priest. And like you don't have a boyfriend." 
The air seemed to evaporate from your chest, your mouth falling open slightly with a gentle gasp. "I- I didn't... I was- I'm sorry I- I didn't even realise I was- I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable-"
"You don't. It doesn't." He rose to his feet. "Therein lies the problem."
"Problem?" 
He turned to face you and began walking backwards down the aisle. "You came to me seeking salvation. That has to remain at the forefront." 
You stood up too and began to follow him. "As opposed to...?" 
He stopped when you caught up to him, causing you to bump into his chest. The last time you were face to face like this was at the boot of his car, when you could have sworn he was going to reach out and touch you, perhaps even lean in for a kiss. You'd been wrong then. But this time you weren't so sure. 
"As opposed to what, Father?" 
He inhaled slowly, looking down at you with heavy lids. "The Lord can be cruel, and it's not always clear why. Sometimes it's up to us to forgive him." 
You furrowed your brow in confusion. "What passage is that?" 
"That wasn't the bible, that was me."
"Oh." You shook your head. "Okay, well, what do you mean by that?" 
"I mean I think he sent you to me. God."
"Why?"
"Because of all the churches, you just had to walk into mine."
"Do you wish I hadn't?"
"I'm starting to."
You had never felt such a guttural urge to scream before, but when your phone began to ring in your pocket, it took all your might just to keep your mouth shut. You shoved your hand into your pocket and ripped out your phone, looking down at the screen, then back up to him. 
"It's my sister," you breathed. "I- I can't ignore this, she never calls..."
He held his hands up in surrender before gesturing to you to take it.
"Hello?" you said, pressing the phone reluctantly to your ear. 
"Were you being honest this afternoon when you said your friend was a priest?" 
"Yes, I was," you replied with a frustrated sigh, glancing up at him, like you were scared he would disappear if you took your eyes off him for too long. 
"The priest at St Augustine's?" Mara asked, her tone as snippy as ever. 
"Yes." 
"Could you ask him if he'll christen Soleil?" 
"Could I- You're calling me to ask if- Are you jok-"
"I can," said Father Benedict, able to hear her on the other end, interjecting before you completely lost it. "I can do that. Just have her come to mass on Sunday and I'll talk to her about it then." 
You let out a huff. "Did you hear that, Mara?" 
"I did. Tell him I said thanks. Oh and-" 
"Yeah, okay." You hung up and stuffed the phone back in your pocket, able to feel the annoyance heating up your cheeks. "She only wants her baptised so she can put her in that fucking catholic school by the town centre. Fucking hell! Of all the moments to-"
"It's okay," he said softly. "We should probably go, anyway." 
"But we-"
"We should probably go," he repeated, slightly more sternly, before turning on his heels and making his way towards the exit.
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Part 5: Sacrifice
*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @queerbee8 @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild
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veliseraptor · 1 year
Note
I have a suggestion/compromise? You mentioned not having the heart to finish those abandoned marvel drafts but if you were willing to share some of the already written bits that you do like, why not just post them as excerpts? You needn't finish them and we get to read your lovely work and stop harassing you for more ❤️
I've been tossing this idea around in my head for the last couple of days and I still don't know where I'm coming down in terms of "actually posting unfinished works to AO3" but I did go back and reread some of these fics I moved into my "MCU Fic Salvage Folder" (aka the wips I feel like would be most worth finishing someday, hypothetically) and once again went "huh you know these are still decent" and it does seem a pity that they're just sitting around languishing unread when people might hypothetically appreciate them, and I'm always in constant need of external validation.
so you know what, since you asked, anon, here, have a 2.3k chunk of an avengers: infinity war canon divergence that I'm fond of notionally but very unlikely to ever finish.
-----
you who turn the wheel and look to windward
Loki watched himself die.
It was necessary, so that he could ensure all the reactions were perfect, the simulacrum as believable as possible, as precisely real as possible. Making a copy of himself was easy - child’s play. Had been for centuries. Making one that was solid to the touch and real enough to fool Thanos--
He’d never done it before, and he could feel the strain of it in his chest, but he was strong enough for this. He had to be. 
That didn’t make it any easier to watch his own throat crushed in Thanos’s hand. He could feel himself shaking, his heart beating like it was going to explode, terror squeezing his airways as tightly as Thanos was squeezing his double’s--
Loki knew the pop-crack wasn’t real and he still flinched. The simulacrum went limp, and a muffled sound reminded him of the other reason he’d kept his eyes so determinedly fixed on his own death. 
I’m sorry, he thought frantically. Thor, I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of another way--
Thanos dropped the body - his body, and he had the disorienting, horrifying experience of staring at his own dead eyes - in front of Thor. He was saying something, but Loki couldn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears. 
Leave, he willed Thanos. Leave, damn you, you have what you want, now go--
Thor was sobbing. He could hear that, all too clearly, and oh if he’d ever wanted proof of what Thor had said (I mourned you) he had it now, and it was bitter in the having. 
Thanos turned his back and Loki held perfectly still, quivering like a dog straining at the leash, waiting, waiting. All he needed was a moment, a clean moment where he could get Thor away and run, it didn’t matter where, somewhere, anywhere. He hadn’t managed to save Asgard. Or Frigga, or Heimdall. But he would do this, he had to do this, there was no other choice.
Walk away, he thought. Walk away, there’s nothing here for you, we’re already dead.
Thor was holding his corpse. Clinging to it, and Loki hated himself but he hated Thanos more and he would apologize when they were safe, would let Thor beat him into the ground if it just meant they made it through this.
Let us make it through this. 
Loki felt the flash of power roll through him. Of Power. Felt the remnants of the ship groan as they started to tear apart. 
No, Loki thought. No, no-
He gauged the distance between him and Thor and Thor and Thanos and it didn’t matter, he couldn’t wait any longer. 
He’d already waited too long.
The ship ripped apart as Loki lunged for Thor, mouth open to shout his name before the vacuum of space tore his voice away, tore him away.
Then there was nothing, for a long time.
**
“You’re d’asting shitting me.”
Loki’s mind stirred sluggishly. His thoughts were fragmented, slow to cohere. There was something about that voice and its rough edge that made Loki’s stomach clench anxiously, but he couldn’t put a name to it, or to where he was, or to what-
No, he knew what had happened. The ship had been torn apart. And somehow...he’d survived. 
Again. 
“I should just throw you back out there,” said the vaguely familiar voice. “This is a waste of time.”
Loki fought his way free like a river in spring thaw. Everything was still jumbled, confused, but one thing remained squarely at the forefront of his mind. 
“Thor,” he said weakly. 
Thor, clinging to his body as the ship was ripped apart, and he hadn’t been fast enough to reach him.
He jerked the rest of the way back to life and lunged to his feet, whirling around with a knife in hand, and froze, staring at Thanos’s daughter. She stared back at him, her jaw set. “You,” he snarled, and lunged for her, hopelessly uncoordinated, still weak. She batted his thrust aside easily. 
“Cut it out,” she said. “I’m not here for him.” 
Loki flashed his teeth. “I am supposed to believe that?” 
“Believe it or don’t,” she said. “But don’t try to stab me again after I just dragged you and the other one onto my ship against my better judgment.”
Loki’s heart leapt into his throat, something like hope almost blooming in his chest. “The other one?” 
“Yeah,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s over there.” She turned her back and started back toward the cockpit, stride jerky and ever so slightly uneven. “Don’t make me regret this.”
His heart dropped just as quickly. She. But he looked reluctantly over where Thanos’s daughter - he remembered her, if not her name - had indicated. Even one living Asgardian, even one, he told himself, no matter if it was not Thor…
I promise you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.
He walked unsteadily over to the other body lying on the ship’s deck. He recognized the style of the vessel - one of Thanos’s, which suggested that either Thanos’s daughter had stolen it, or she was lying. 
Not just any Asgardian, Loki thought, kneeling down unsteadily next to her. The Valkyrie. She was a survivor. Like him. 
Even as he started to reach out toward her, she gasped in a breath and her eyes snapped open, her knife flashing toward his throat. She stopped it just before it sliced through skin, staring at him, wide-eyed.
“Fuck,” she said. “Loki?”
Loki choked on a hysterical laugh. “The one and only,” he said. 
“The fuck...the fuck happened?” Valkyrie’s voice rasped painfully. Loki wondered if there was water. He should have asked, but he still felt dull, muddled. Thor must have survived. He had to have. But where…
He slumped back away from her. “Thanos,” he said. 
“I knew that,” Valkyrie hissed, already on her feet. There was an ugly rent in her armor, bleeding sluggishly. “But we’re not dead, so obviously-”
She cut off. Loki saw the moment when she put it together. 
“There’s no one else, is there,” she said. 
Loki didn’t want to say it. Couldn’t make himself say it. “I don’t know.” 
Valkyrie let loose with a string of expletives that Loki couldn’t parse. He waited for her to finish shouting. 
“Hulk?” She said, finally. 
“Heimdall sent him to Midgard. To warn them.” And was murdered for it. He didn’t speak that part, but he could tell that Valkyrie heard it nonetheless. 
“And Thor?” She asked, but he could tell by the look on her face that she already knew the answer. She just wanted him to say it. Why? So she could blame him, that he was still here and Thor might be-
He’s not dead. I won’t believe it. He turned his back on her and walked over to the cockpit to stare at the back of Thanos’s daughter’s head. She’d been a Luphomoid, once. He wasn’t sure what to call her now. “What’s your game,” he asked, harshly. 
“Getting to Thanos. Killing Thanos.” 
Loki jerked. “Last I saw you-”
“Last I saw you,” she snapped, “you were dancing on Thanos’s strings. It’s been a while.” 
“You know this person?” Valkyrie said, coming up behind him.
“Yes,” Loki said flatly. “Not fondly. There were a lot of sophisticated instruments of torture involved.” 
He felt Valkyrie stiffen, and somewhere distant where he was still feeling things was touched. 
“Don’t make me regret pulling you out of vacuum,” she said, her voice, if possible, even harsher than he remembered. “I only did it because-”
She stopped. Her hands twitched on the controls. Loki could see something, suddenly, in her single-minded intensity, the taut coil of her entire body, straining toward a destination she was afraid she wouldn’t reach. 
“Because why,” he said. She clamped her mouth shut and didn’t answer. 
“Would someone explain to me who you are and what’s going on,” Valkyrie said tightly, her voice almost vibrating, and it occurred to Loki that she’d been the sole survivor of her sisterhood, and was now one of a handful of survivors at most, almost immediately after returning to Asgard. Loki stumbled back and sat down on one of the unoccupied seats, his head suddenly spinning again. 
“She’s a daughter of Thanos,” he said. “Not of his flesh - I don’t know that he has any of those. I certainly hope not.” 
“I am not that,” she said, her voice grating. “My name is Nebula. I almost killed Thanos once. This time, I’m going to do it right.” 
“You’ve changed your tune,” Loki said. To Valkyrie, he added, “it seems we both managed to survive being blasted into space when Thanos disintegrated the ship. Which is, I imagine, where she found us.” 
“But not Thor,” she said. 
“There were no other signs of life in the vicinity,” Nebula said, after a brief pause. Loki felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He slumped back into the seat, staring blankly forward. 
It should have been you, whispered a nasty voice in his mind. Not him. Never him.
Valkyrie swore under her breath. “Fuck,” she said. “Shit.” 
Nebula, to his gratitude, said nothing. He was quite certain she knew the name. She’d heard him scream it enough. 
“Fuck!” Valkyrie roared, slamming her foot into the hull of the ship. Loki bowed his head and tried to summon the words: nor shall we mourn, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t. He felt like something had been ripped out of his core. 
“Where are we going,” he said finally, numbly. 
“I told you-”
“Yes, I know. I meant more specifically than that.” 
“Vormir,” Nebula said. Loki frowned. 
“What’s on Vormir?” 
“The Soul Stone.” 
Loki’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” He said, voice a little hoarse. He’d had some slim hope that the thing was lost. That no one knew where to find it, Thanos included, and thus he would not be able to complete his quest. 
Stupid. He should know better by now than to trust to hope. 
Nebula’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know if Thanos is still there. But it’s the last location I know he was heading.” 
“How did he know where to go,” Loki said, his throat closing like he was the double Thanos had strangled. “I thought it was lost-”
“Not lost enough,” Nebula said. She was wound so tight she was almost vibrating. Racing against time. She was afraid. Loki had not thought she was capable. 
That was all the Stones accounted for. Two on Midgard. Two Thanos already possessed (one thanks to you, sentiment, and what was it worth in the end, you still lost). One on Knowhere in the Collector’s care - he was strong enough that he might be able to match Thanos on his own, but with two Infinity Stones already in his possession? Perhaps not. 
And the Soul Stone, on Vormir. 
“How do we kill him,” Valkyrie said, her voice harsh. “This - Thanos. How do we kill him?” 
“Quickly,” Nebula said. “Cutting his throat should do it. I intend to take his whole head just to be sure.” 
“Not if I get to it first,” Loki said. Nebula gave him a sharp, ugly look that Loki ignored. He was very cold, and trying very hard not to think of Thor. Not to think, with childlike desperation, he was alive when you saw him last, Thor is strong, he might have survived. He couldn’t afford to believe that. And it wouldn’t matter if Thanos got what he wanted. 
“How far are we from this Vormir,” Valkyrie said.
“Another few hours.” Nebula’s voice was curt, but not exactly hostile.
“And are there weapons on this ship?” 
She gestured toward the back, and Valkyrie turned on her heel and stalked in that direction. Loki looked down at his hands. He had his knives, of course. Always. 
He kept going over those last few moments on The Statesman. What he could have done differently. What he should have done differently that might have gotten both him and Thor out alive - or at least Thor. 
It should have been a relief that he couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t. 
“What changed,” he said.
“Are you talking to me,” Nebula said. Her voice was as harsh as he remembered. Thanos must have done something to damage her vocal cords, at some point. Hearing it sent a shiver of revulsion at remembered pain down his spine. 
“Yes,” he said. “I am talking to you. What made you finally turn your back on your father?” 
“None of your business.” 
“I’d like to know why I should believe you aren’t just taking us to Thanos as prisoners.” 
“If I was taking you to Thanos I would have just killed you,” Nebula said. “If I’d known it was you I was pulling onboard I would have.”
“Hey,” Valkyrie said, hefting a sizeable gun in one hand. “Watch it.”
Nebula made a disgusted noise and turned away from them both. Loki glanced at Valkyrie, eyebrows furrowing, and when she looked back at him he read determination and rage and a sort of desperation in her eyes. Like she expected something from him.
Don’t, Loki wanted to scream. I’ll only fail you. As I failed Thor.
“She’s not going to now,” Loki said. “And if you try...you’ll find me much harder to subdue than when I was your father’s captive.” It was largely bravado. He was weak after the fight on the Statesman, after dueling Proxima and Corvus, after crafting a double of himself. Drained by the memory of Thor on his knees, screaming, running toward his brother as the ship disintegrated around them and Thor just lay there sobbing over his seeming corpse, making no move to save himself. 
A knife slid in under Loki’s ribs and slit him open. He staggered, and Valkyrie caught him.
“Lackey,” she said lowly.
“I’m fine,” he said, but she ignored him, depositing him on a seat and standing next to him, glaring at the back of Nebula’s head as she ignored them both.
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cyberneticlagomorph · 1 month
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"Hiya Barby!"
A hush falls on the crowd with all the suddenness and finality of a curtain dropped on a stage.
The old Knight that saunters through the sea of his underlings smiles at you the way a chimp does before it rips off someone's face.
You're smiling too, so wide and so hard that the scabs and barely healed skin under your gauze split and bleed like ripe fruit crushed between teeth. "Forgive me not for standing," You lift a leg as high as it will go, showing off charred flesh and the bare metal normally hidden underneath. "Still tender."
Lord Barnabas doesn't sit but he nods in understanding, a gesture that doesn't hide the disgust in his eyes. "Please refrain from using that nickname in the company of others, Prince Jack, someone might get the wrong impression of our relationship." His voice is deep and raspy, the voice of a man who has shredded his throat with yelling and ruined his lungs with a taste for fine cigars.
"Aww I thought you liked it when I called you Barby, isn't that what your wife calls you?" You tilt your head and flutter your eye lashes, watching the heat creep up Barby's neck like embers eating away at wood. The Lord's smile is tight lipped, straining against teeth you know he'd bury in your throat if he could.
"Indeed she does," Barnabas clears his throat. "Now that you have my attention, dear Princeling, what can I do for you?"
You ignore his insult and take a sip of tea from one of the many scuttling cups dancing across your table. "One of yours made an attempt on my life and put my family in danger, so per the Dictates you lot set into place, I am owed a debt."
A fraction of the tension in Lord Barnabas' broad shoulders melts away and he smiles again, genuinely, as a roar of a laugh shakes his enormous frame. "Is that all? You had me worried there! I will gladly pay for any medical expenses and have my Knights personally repair any damage you see fit."
"I intend to take my payment in flesh, Barnabas." You take another sip of tea, brushing away a very insistent jar of jam that wants your attention. "Zeb, I do believe that's what his name was, not only injured me on multiple occasions, but he set fire to my home, nailed cold iron to my door, and left witch bottles on my property." You pause, popping a gooseberry into your mouth "Not to mention the damage and disruption he caused in Fairyland."
The tension returns to Barby's shoulders, his heavy hands slamming on your table, sending dishware scurrying for safety. Several of the Knights behind him, young and old, flinch at the sound and go very still.
"A debt paid in flesh? For some childish antics, a bit of petty vandalism??" Lord Barnabas looks at you like you just suggested he preserve his head in a decorative gelatine mold and walk around naked. "Is this boy's life truly worth losing over such trivial matters?"
You snort into your tea. You don't use your real laugh often, but today is the perfect day to do so.
It's a harsh and horrible sound, distinctly disturbing and artificial. A stolen file so completely compressed and corrupted it's hard to tell that it's origin was ever human.
"I'm not going to kill him," You glance around the room "or any of you, unless you give me good reason, I want to adopt him."
"...like a pet?" Says the little monk from before, quickly silenced by a smack to the back of his head.
"Like a child." You give in to the jam's persistence and spread some on a slice of acorn bread saturated with butter. "He's obviously a very gifted and clever child, and you know how much I love clever children... besides it saves you the energy of punishing him and I won't tell the Council it was your fault the moon broke."
Lord Barnabas is very very red, from his neck to the tips of his ears, he is beet red and angry that some loathsome little fairy WHORE that stumbled its way into royalty thinks it can just waltz into HIS tower and threaten HIM of all people. He opens his mouth to speak, suddenly falling forward as the table he was leaning on vanishes with a snap of your fingers.
"I'll give you three days to decide, and if I do not have the boy by the end of those three days..." the shadows in the room tremble and bleed, spreading across the floor like spilled ink blooming black roses with glaring blue eyes, thorny vines, and toothy mouths that slither and stretch towards you, climbing up your legs until you are nothing but a dark shape with two glowing eyes and a sneering fanged maw. Your mouth is shut and smiling but your voice rattles from every oozing pool of blackness. "I'll show you why they call me the Prince of Hearts."
The shadows swallow you whole, dragging you down into their depths until there is nothing left in your place except an hour glass of black sand counting down the days.
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foreveralwaysanauthor · 5 months
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Abby's Basic Info
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Name: Abigail Rose O’Brian
Abby's faceclaims were pretty easy, actually. For the 60s - Patty Duke (The Patty Duke Show); the 80s - Ally Sheedy (The Breakfast Club); the 90s - Natalie Portman (Star Wars); and now - Isabella Sermon (Jurassic World).
Nicknames: Abby, Abs, Pinkie Pie (not only a My Little Pony reference as she was addicted to it as a child, but also due to her wearing shades of pink more than any other color)
Age: 14
Date of Birth: December 13
Zodiac: Sagittarius
Birthstone: Turquoise
Nationality: Native American, Irish, and French-Canadian
Sexuality: Lesbian (closeted)
Birthplace: Elliot Hospital, Manchester, New Hampshire
Current Residence: Gray Road, Sanbornton, New Hampshire
Occupation: High school freshman and goalie on the local soccer team 
Talents/Skills: Acting, memorizing just about anything, getting good grades despite not studying, and telling terrible puns
Birth order: Middle
Siblings: Vivien (older) and Oliver (younger)
Parents: Damien Lucas O’Brian and Chelsea Alisha Mays
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Height: 5’3”
Race: White
Eye Color: A brown and green blend
Hair Color: Brown if she has it cut short, but it looks dirty blonde if it’s long
Glasses or contact lenses: Though she is the only one in the family who doesn’t need them for some reason or another, Abby wears them to feel closer to her family
Distinguishing features: Two streaks of colored hair framing her face that normally match the season/upcoming holiday (orange for Halloween, red and green for Christmas, pastels for Easter, etc)
Mannerisms: Using pencils as hair ties, spinning her rings, muttering to herself to keep her thoughts in order, and constantly licking her lips despite always having a Chapstick with her
Health: She has eczema on her hands, anxiety related to school, and a binge-eating disorder coupled with high metabolism
Hobbies: Photography, reading, watching 80s movies, imagining herself on Broadway, and playing ukulele 
Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How much she relies on other people’s opinions of her. While Abby doesn’t really care much what her friends think of her, her family’s opinions of her mean more than she’d ever let on. Oliver has always been there for her (despite those glorious 13 minutes while he was still in the womb) and his opinion of her has never changed, which she’s more than grateful for. Her dad adores her and treats her with respect and love, something she admires him for to no extent. The only people she worries about - whether they know it or not - are Vivien and their mother. While she definitely looks up to her mother (which I elaborate more on in her fears), their relationship is rocky at best. She feels pushed in the direction her mother wants her to go instead of being loved for who she is and what she wants. Vivien, thankfully, is the opposite of that. Abby has idolized Vivien for as long as she can remember and has tried following in her footsteps for just as long. They spend evenings together, watching old movies and just hanging out and, though they both have friends of their own, Abby loves the times when she can just sit with her sister and ignore the stress of the world. Though they’re very close, Abby’s respect and idolization of her sister has made it ridiculously hard for her to take any constructive criticism Vivien gives her. This one-sided strain has made it exceedingly hard for Abby to tell Vivien much about her personal life, any struggles she might have, her relationships, and her sexuality despite knowing her sister would accept her no matter what - leaving her feeling somewhat isolated from everyone.
Best quality (in their opinion): How versatile she can be. As long as she puts her heart into something new - ukulele, bass guitar, studying new subjects, trying new sports - she can become great at them. She loves trying new things, but the idea of not being great at something stops her from venturing too far out of her little bubble of comfort.
Biggest fear: Imperfection. Though Vivien was the oldest and most esteemed child in their younger years, once the oldest of their family came out and started being her own person, their mother turned all her focus onto Abby, forcing her to be the golden child. Perfect grades were a must, gold medals and academic awards had to be won, and if something wasn’t done to her mother’s standards, Abby could feel dread settling in her bones. Though her mother never screamed at her, the disappointment and subsequent silent treatment were enough for her to know that she wasn’t good enough. She dreads the day when she has to come out to her mother because, despite her mother saying she's now perfectly fine with having two screw-up children in the “alphabet soup community,” Abby can’t imagine what will happen when her only remaining golden child comes clean. On top of that, what will happen when she finds out that Abby wants to be a theatre major instead of a lawyer? Until she turns 18 and can leave, Abby is perfectly content pretending to be her mother’s perfect child. Besides, it’s what she’s good at, right?
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Favorite ice cream: Cherry Blossom
Favorite color: Peach
Favorite number: She doesn’t necessarily have one, but she loves Friday the 13th (not just because of the movies or her birthday), so that would most likely be her answer
Favorite songs: girls by girl in red, I’d Rather Be Me from Mean Girls the Musical, and all-american bitch by Olivia Rodrigo
A place they want to visit: Berlin, Germany
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discountenance
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includes: jason & damian
wc: 2k | rated t | m.list | cross-posted on ao3
warnings: emotional baggage, child abuse, drug usage, addiction, neglect, mommy issues, disrespect of boundaries, angst, hurt/comfort
a/n: hey so this is a) not talia bashing and i will not accept talia bashers in the comments b) reflective of my experiences with my mother and not the end all be all for how the parent-child relationships are in batman nor how they should be dealt with in real life
please reblog!
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“Hey, Squirt.”
“Todd, don’t call me such demeaning names. Did Grayson send you in here?”
Jason snorts, sitting on the edge of Damian’s bed. “Obviously. He was worried about you.”
“I am perfectly fine,” Damian sniffs.
“Tell that to the judge,” Jason cracks, raising his eyebrows. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
After a long moment, Damian shifts, looking down. “My mother and I had a fight.” 
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Jason looks over at Dick, whose eyes reflect the confusion he feels. Damian had just stomped past them, slamming to door to his room shut in an uncharacteristically loud manner. What had happened? Neither Bruce nor Tim were at the manor, which eliminated the most likely causes.
Dick sighs, standing. “I should go see if he’s alright.” 
“You sure he doesn’t need some time to cool off?” Jason questions, and Dick shrugs. 
“Only one way to know. I’d rather ask him than just assume he does when he really wants to talk to someone.” 
“There you go again, being all mature and shit,” Jason snorts. “Hopefully he doesn’t bite your head off.” 
Dick dissapears down the hall, and Jason returns his attention to his book. Well, tries to, anyway. Despite his flippant attitude, he really is a little concerned about the kid. It’d been a while since he’d had an outburst like that (oh, the joys of teenage puberty) and though Jason likes Damian’s firecracker personality more than he lets on, it’s rare for him to be set off so suddenly, without a trigger. 
A known trigger, that is. Maybe he and Superboy had fought? Look, Jason's really wracking his brain here. 
Straining his ears, Jason tries to detect yelling or the sound of Dick’s return, but doesn’t hear either. A good sign, he supposes. Means Dickiebird’s got it all in hand.
A few more minutes go by, and right when Jason’s getting back into his novel, he heard Damian’s door open. 
“Everything alright in there?” he asks Dick, whose lips are pressed together thinly. “Wait, don’t answer that. I can already tell it’s not. What’s going on?”
Dick scrubs a hand across his face. “I guess he and Talia fought. He’s really upset, and I can’t really help him. He needs advice right now, not just a listening ear.” 
“And why can’t you help him?” Jason asks, putting his book down. “I thought Richard Grayson was an expert in fighting with one’s parents.” 
“Asshole.” Dick rolls his eyes. “Regardless of the issues Bruce and I have had, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience in the ‘mother’ department. Damian needs someone who does.” 
It doesn’t take long for Jason to put the pieces together. “Oh, hell no! You want me to talk to him about mommy issues? No fucking way!” 
“I can’t force you to do anything, and if you don’t want to think about that trauma, that’s totally valid. But I think out of all of us in the mansion right now, you’ve got the best chance at being able to empathize. And you’ve also spent time with Talia, which might be helpful.” 
“How upset is he?” Jason asks eventually, and Dick grimaces. 
“It’s pretty bad.” 
“Fuck. Fine. Don’t say I’m not a good older brother, alright?” 
“Jay, nobody says that. You’re a great older brother.” Dick just looks so earnest. 
“It was a joke. Anyway, does he need time? Or can I go in there now?”
“You can head in now. But Jason, seriously, if you think talking about this will hurt you or bring up bad memories you don’t have to do it.” 
“Please, you worry too much. But I appreciate it,” he adds after a beat. “Now let me go do my thing.” 
Knocking on Damian’s door, he waits until he hears a muffled ‘you may enter’ from the depths of the room. Shutting the door behind him gently, he takes in Damian, who’s sitting at his desk, a scowl on his face. 
“Hey, Squirt.” 
“Todd, don’t call me such demeaning names. Did Grayson send you in here?” 
Jason snorts, sitting on the edge of Damian’s bed. “Obviously. He was worried about you.” 
“I am perfectly fine,” Damian sniffs. 
“Tell that to the judge,” Jason cracks, raising his eyebrows. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” 
After a long moment, Damian shifts, looking down. “My mother and I had a fight.” 
“You and Talia? About what, if you feel like sharing.” And look, Jason may not be the best at the whole big brother thing, but as Robin, he’d gotten lots of experience talking to other kids or those he helped, so he at least kind of knows what to do. Shoutout to Bruce, for drilling the victim checklist into his head. 
Damian shifts uncomfortably. “Well… she is being unreasonable. And not listening to me.” 
That sounds like Talia. Jason has his own opinions of her, separate from Damian, but even in her best of days, she can be stubborn and disrespectful of boundaries.
“I just wanted to have a nice, insincere conversation with her,” Damian continues, “but she began speaking ill of Father. And speaking of Grandfather. I’ve asked her before to please not do such things, and I asked her again today, but instead of listening, she merely dismissed me and continued on.” 
“That must have been tough,” Jason says, “but hey, kudos on telling her that. Your mom can be kind of a hard person to say that stuff to.” 
Damian inclines his head slightly. “Sometimes I don’t like talking to her that much.” He hesitates. “Sometimes I don’t think I like her very much. Does that make me a bad son?” 
The rare and open vulnerability on Damian’s face makes Jason’s chest hurt. 
“No, Damian. Not at all. Those are perfectly valid feelings to have.” 
“They are? But I feel like I’m betraying her. I mean, she’s my mother! Shouldn’t I love and respect her regardless of what she says or does?” 
“No healthy relationship works like that,” Jason begins, choosing his words carefully. “Believe it or not, I struggle with the same thing.” 
“With Father?” 
Jason chuckles. “With my own mom.” 
This gives Damian pause. “Your mother?” 
Jason nods. “I don’t speak of her often, so you probably don’t know very much about her, now do you?” 
“Didn’t she turn you over to the Joker?” 
Jason makes a face. “Not her. That woman will never be my mother. No, Catherine, the woman who raised me from birth.” 
Damian is silent, and Jason takes that as a sign to go on. 
“Before I was taken in by Bruce, before I was out on the street fending for myself, I lived with my mom. My dad wasn’t really around, since he was in jail a lot, and so it was just her and I for a lot of my childhood. But just because we were together, doesn’t mean she was there, you know? Catherine had a real bad drug addiction and most of my memories involve her being high or drunk, or both, to be honest.” Jason sighs. “Someone struggling with that level of addiction can’t take care of themselves, let along a young child. So I was neglected pretty badly, and also forced to take care of her in various ways. I went hungry, without power or water, and even without decent clothes during my growthspurts.” 
“I knew you grew up in Crime Alley, however…” 
Jason smiles ruefully. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad, isn’t it? You’d think that would be grounds for hating her or resenting her, and believe me, I do, but I can also remember times before she was addicted to drugs, or the few times she’d tried to get clean, and those memories are some of the best times of my life. We’d do things together, I’d have someone who’d take care of me, for once I didn’t have to worry about everything. But those moments didn’t last long, because she could never quite kick it. I still struggle with my feeling about her, because like you said, she’s my mom! How can I hate her? But how can I look past the things she did to me, to her, to our family during the times she was high or mentally unwell? It’s really difficult and something I still struggle with today.” 
“So there’s no fix?” Damian’s tone is raw. “I’m always going to struggle with this?”
“I didn’t say that. There’s no easy fix, at least not in my experience, but it’s something you don’t have to have figured out right this moment. It’s something you can change your mind about when you want and how you want. Talia is a good woman, and I know you love her, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen to her speak about Bruce, or Ra’s, or whatever. You’re allowed to get mad at her, to hang up on you, to tell her your own opinion and ask that she respects it. And if she doesn’t, you’re allowed to tell her that you don’t want to talk to her until she does, or that she’s pissing you off.” 
Damian’s fists clench where they rest on his desk. “I hate this,” he says. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I have to deal with this. It’s not fair that I had to have the childhood I had, or that I have to be the one to set these boundaries. She’s the adult!” 
“You’re right,” Jason says. God, he can remember thinking the exact same thing. “It’s not fair. It’s fucking stupid, and kid, I am so, so sorry that you have to go through this. You can deal with it as much as you want or as little as you want right now, and if you want to talk about it, I’m always here, and so is Dick. Or we could even get you set up wth someone on the outside that’s probably a hellova lot better at these types of talks than I am.” 
“What, like a psychologist?” 
“A therapist, yes. I’ve never told anyone this, not even Bruce, but I’ve spoken to one on and off over the years and she’s been really helpful as I work through all of my issues. Do you know Black Canary?” 
“That’s who you speak to?” 
“It is,” Jason confirms. “And you also don’t have to make a decision right now about any of this either. You can sit with it and think about what you want to do. I’m not trying to pressure you into picking a path right this very second.” 
Damian nods. He doesn’t seem completely opposed to speaking with Dinah, which is a pro in Jason’s books. Lord knows their family needs more people willing to ask for help when they need it (though Jaosn can’t really be talking). 
“I’m still upset with my mother,” Damian says eventually. “I do not understand why she cannot simply respect my words.”
“And that’s fine. You can be upset with her. For as long and as much as you want. And sometimes, people have a hard time listening to others, especially when they think they’re right. Your mother is very headstrong, and while that serves her well, it can also make it hard to work with her on an interpersonal level. And I’m not even experiencing the mother-son dynamic you have to navigate.” 
Damian is silent for a long moment, so Jason leans forward. 
“Do you want to talk about it more, or talk about anything else? I can also stop bothering you if that’s what you want too.” 
Pushing himself away from his desk, Damian stands. “I do not wish to speak of it any longer. I want to think.” He turns hopeful eyes to Jason. “And I would also like a hot chocolate from the bakery on fifth and third.” 
Jason chuckles, shaking his head. He’ll let Damian milk it for once. The kid deserves it. “You know what? Hot chocolate sounds perfect. We should probably take Dick though, make him pay.” And assuage his worries before he gets an ulcer , Jason thinks privately.
“If we must,” Damian sighs. “But if he must come, then I also get a pastry. And to use you as a shield to block his hugs.” 
“Brat, we both know you don’t mind his physical displays of affection as much as you claim.” 
“Do not call me ‘brat’!” 
Jason grins, pulling Damin’s door open. “Squirt it is, then.” 
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leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
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allthewriteplaces · 4 months
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Love On the Battlefield
Author's Note: This is a short story I wrote based on one of my favourite audio roleplays/dramas on YouTube. I will post a link below in case any of you want to check it out and might I also recommend subscribing to him because his content is top tier!
I should also note in the original version, the soldier doesn't have a name, but I thought of inserting a random one just because he deserves one. Story Summary: Y/N has been a member of the Healer's Guild for the last three years. She has seen her fair share of death and seen many broken soldiers, but none of them have managed to capture her heart as swiftly as Everett, who, little do they know, is someone from her distant pasts.
Story Warning(s): Angst, descriptions of war, but I promise there's a happy ending.
Word Count: 3,915 Inspired by this audio:
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When I first arrived here on this forsaken island, I tried so hard to ignore it: the haunting, shrill whispers of countless weapons, gunfire, people crying and screaming out in agony, and artillery barrage sounding as though the earth were cracking up like an egg of super-gigantic proportions tapped by a gargantuan spoon, that’s what my father, who was once a soldier himself, described it, and now and then, the unmistakable roar of aircraft hovering the starless, smokey-gray sky, ready to fire at will at any given moment, with absolutely no remorse, mercy, nor regard for the multitudinous lives that will consequently and regrettably be stolen.
I used to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else — some place where the only sounds to break the peaceful silence are the crickets chirping in the cattails, frogs calling to one another over the still-sounding water, or a child’s laughter. In this place, you won’t look up and see those heavy storm clouds of smoke, but an endless, purple sky where the stars pour out, and the air hasn’t been poisoned by the smell of rotting corpses, blood and ashes, instead, it smells of wildflowers and earth.
But the longer I stayed, the more suffering I saw, not even my imagination could make it go away, and the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t happening and to keep up this brave front that I’d constantly tried to put on.
People assume that my job is easy, caring for wounded soldiers, and perhaps in a way, they’re right. I should count myself fortunate that I spend most of my time shielded by the fabric of this tent and not out there with a weapon in my hand, praying that when I fall asleep, I’ll survive to fight another day, but you shouldn’t assume that we don’t have our own stories to tell, stories of hopelessness and grief and heartache.
I, too, have seen the many horrors many soldiers tell us about when we’re young and curious, I’ve seen many a man’s flesh be torn apart by bullets and shells, I’ve heard their piercing cries of pain as the poison takes over their bodies and minds. I’ve heard the desperate calls for friends long lost, and I’ve seen their eyes go cloudy as everything around them goes quiet and still as they take their last breath.
Surely there are better places for a man to die.
And it is not easy. Not in the least, and I do not wish these horrors on anyone. Not even my worst enemies, which by the way, there are few.
As I and several other members of my guild make our way down a steep hill toward the beach, trying hard not to slip and tumble all the way down to the bottom — though I will admit it would save me a lot of time and effort — I strain my ears and scan the landscape for any survivors, guided by the cries of seagulls and the sound of the ocean crashing against the sand.
My throat tightens the closer I get and my stomach churns and swirls, both from nervousness, and the monstrous waves of impending doom that threaten to pull me under minute by minute.
Reaching the bottom of the hill at last, I stand there for just a moment, frozen by fear and by sadness. Sheets of rain pour down on us, as though God Himself is trying to wash away any evidence of battle, to cleanse away that dark, crimson liquid staining the ground and tainting the once blue waters and restore the beach to its original beauty.
I wish it were that simple, to just wash it all away as if it never happened.
Many of the men here once thought the same. They’ve tried to forget, to put that part of their pasts behind them, but the dying cries of their friends and enemies, and the sounds of gunfire still plague their dreams, and not even the god of sleep has the power to take them away. For some, the memories are too much to bear and the only way for them to have some form of peace, is to drown them all in drink or to find a way to put their minds to rest permanently.
Amidst the symphony of sounds and through thick haze of smoke the smoke, I spot someone kneeling on the sand, his one arm pressing hard against his chest, inches away from where his heart should be. His damp, chestnut brown hair sticks to his forehead and his head slowly tilts upwards to look my way before he squeezes shut.
His mouth moves. I don’t know what he’s saying and it’s hard to tell if he’s speaking to me or to himself, and then he lies down on the ground. My breath hitches and wasting no more time, I trudge the sopping, wet, almost muddy ground, trying to block out everything else and get to him before it’s too late.
“Did you not hear me? I-I said leave me.”
Despite his protests, I sit down on the ground next to him and gently bring his head to rest in my lap, moving his hair out of the way and checking his body temperature with the back of my hand.
He has a terrible fever. I need to get him back to the campsite, though I cannot do it on my own without risking further injury.
Speaking of which, I need to put pressure on the wound to keep him from bleeding to death.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, tilting my head to one side.
“Because I failed. That’s why,” he replies, a mixture of anger and regret causing his voice to shake. He swallows thickly and sighs deeply. “I failed to save those I swore to protect; and it’s not that I failed once. It’s time and time again and it never ends. I was hoping to be like the great ones, hoping to be a protector, but all of my efforts have been in vain.”
His heavy-lidded, icy blue gaze shifts from the sky, to the ocean, and then to me as raindrops run down his cheeks, or maybe they’re tears.
“I’m sorry.”
Something in the way he says these two simple words pierces me. Why is he apologizing as if this whole thing is somehow his fault? I can’t say I haven’t been in the same position before. Whenever one of my patients dies in my care, I go over every possible scenario in my head, wondering what I could have done right in order to prevent it from happening. I think about their families whose lives will be shaken because I failed to help them.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell him after a long beat of silence and trying to figure out what to say to ease his guilt, though from experience, it is not an easy thing to do, to not blame yourself for what has happened to someone else. “No one among us could have prevented this. Some things are far beyond our control.”
I reach into my sack and pull out a small canteen that’s filled with fresh water. He shakes his head, his eyes becoming misty once more. “You shouldn’t waste this on me. I’m sure there are others who need it more. Besides, I have nothing left in me. I probably wouldn’t stand if I had the strength.”
“Well, in that case, I would carry you away from here myself,” I counter, “You might look at me and think, ‘this girl couldn’t possibly be strong enough to lift and carry a fully-grown man, but trust me, I’d find a way.”
For one split second, I see the briefest, most microscopic smile flicker across his face and if I had blinked, I may have missed it.
“Why do you treat me with such good will?” he asks, his voice sounding less scratchy now, but still tinged with sadness. “Why do you insist on being so kind and helping someone who has done you nothing? A stranger? A broken soul?”
“Because you are someone worth saving. No one deserves to die out here alone and afraid, and because you’ve done so much more for me and for many others than you’ll ever realize.”
Before I can say anything more, two uniformed men come running toward us with a stretcher and lift him onto it, carrying him towards the campsite.
For a second, my composure falters.
I stop feeling the ground beneath me and my chest tightens as though my heart might actually break, but then somehow, I am on my feet again and marching back to the tent, trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay for just a while longer. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The long hours drone on and day turns into night. The rain has calmed down to a light drizzle, the thunder now a quiet, distant rumble and the time being, the sound of gunfire has ceased. We take every advantage of the opportunity to tend to the wounded, stock up on supplies, and for some of us, this may be our only chance to get some rest.
As the broken soldier lies in a bed, covered in blankets and breathing softly in and out, I sit on a wobbly wooden stool by the bed, and count the number of times his chest rises and falls, keeping track of each breath, worried that if I close my eyes, even for a second, he will slip away.
Moments ago, we gave him a sedative to keep him asleep and something for the pain while I worked on removing the bullet and managed to close up the wound. I made sure to leave it open for a little while and to check for swelling or infection before dressing it with gauze and some medical tape. Once that was done, we put him in some dryer clothes and then hung his wet uniform to dry above the fire.
His fever has gone down significantly, but he’s not out of the woods yet. He will need constant care, at least until his wound has fully healed, so for now, I stick to making sure the dressing is clean and that when he rouses now and then, he has something to drink before going back to sleep. He doesn’t say much aside from thanking me for the water or for asking me where he is.
I resist the urge to run my fingers through his dark locks or to press a gentle kiss to the side of his forehead, however, I do allow myself to hold onto his hand and whisper soft, reassuring words in his ear if I see that he’s having a nightmare.
It isn’t until the middle of the night when I hear him mutter something about two suns staring down at him and he opens his eyes again, groaning softly as they adjust to the dim lighting of the tent and they focus on my face.
“Such soft hands,” he says, running his thumb across my knuckles. “I’ve received kindness before, but not to this loving extent. I mean, I have no ties to you, but here you are, bandaging my wounds and staying awake to watch over me. I remember that sweet sorrow as I lay there in the mud, waiting to die, and then feeling your gentle touch.”
He pauses, halting his movements and then his eyes look right into mine.
“I used to be a thief. Spent my entire life on the streets, stealing what I could to survive, searching for work and being unable to maintain a job, which is how I ended up taking to this horrid lifestyle. I was hoping to redeem myself, to make my life mean something, but it seems I couldn’t even do that well.”
“Please. You mustn’t speak of yourself that way,” I respond, trying my hardest to keep my own voice from breaking. “Seeing you lying there reminded me of my father who served in the army, hoping to return to his wife and children, and I thought, maybe you had someone waiting for you. A family, a lover, children, and I wanted to make sure you got back home to them. Not only that, you saved my life once before.”
For a long time, he searches my face for something. Some semblance of someone he met long ago, a memory, and soon enough, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together.
“I was leaving a tavern late one night and these men started following me, circling around me like vultures at the feast, ravenous, looking for an easy meal. But then you stepped in and defended me. You remember that, don’t you?”
“I- I remember how terrified you were and throwing the first punch, knocking one down and then I saw you run. I never knew whether or not you got to safety, I just knew that you were away from them. Did they hurt you?”
“Thanks to you, they didn’t get the chance.”
“All this time, you remembered,” he says and a new expression comes over him. His one hand reaches outward and I feel his warm hand brush across my cheek.
“See? You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” I smile, leaning into his touch, wanting to remember it forever.
“And I shall never forget how you reminded me of that.” He pauses again and then breathes in deeply. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for all you’ve done for me. If it’s not too much to ask, might I stay here for just a little while longer? There’s something comforting about being with you. I can’t place what it is exactly, but all I know is that I don’t want to let it go just yet.”
“Then hold on, hold onto me for as long as you need.”
As the days unfold, the war presses on. The wounded keep coming in, seeking solace from cries of pain and the distant rumble of artillery, and I and the other nurses do their best to put an end to their pain and sorrows, to listen as they speak of their fears—fear of the battles that awaited, fear of the darkness that clung to their pasts, and fear of the unknown that lay ahead.
Each life saved carries the weight of those lost, but no matter how hard the earth around us shakes, and the bond we have formed from the threads of shared pain and healing, grows stronger. Our conversations become a lifeline, a thread weaving through the fabric of the night, binding two souls in the midst of turmoil. This tent, once a small sanctuary of respite amidst the chaos that raged beyond its flaps, transforms into a cocoon of shared stories and whispered confessions between the two of us.
He tells me more about his childhood, about how his mother died shortly after he was born, leaving him in the care of his father who was so overcome by grief that he could barely look after himself, much less a newborn. As a result, he spent most of his life in an orphanage, until he was old enough to leave. He didn’t wish to, but times were hard, and there were other young boys who needed a bed to sleep in and food to eat. That’s how he ended up as a thief, guided only by his wit and his determination to survive.
In turn, I tell him fragments of my own life — about my family, where I grew up, the endless days spent playing in the meadows with my friends, and how much my mother and I cried when my father joined the army and how happy we were when he finally came back home to us. I even tell him about when I joined the guild, the one place where I could use my skills and truly make a difference in the world.
One night, as the dim light of a flickering lantern casts shadows on the tent walls and I’m changing the bandages, I notice that the rain has stopped and that only the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and the soft snoring of the other men in the tent can be heard. It’s almost too quiet and I’m just praying it lasts.
“It’s funny. I’ve known you for so long and yet I never asked your name,” he confesses suddenly and then I remember all the conversations we’ve had. He’s right. Out of all the conversations we’ve had, not once have we asked each other what our names were.
I smile. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
“You’re something else, I’ll give you that. Very well, you can call me Everett.”
“And you can call me Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, savouring the syllables. “A name as gentle as the hands that saved me.”
My cheeks suddenly feel warm. I’d like to believe that it’s because of the candles burning on the desks to keep out the chill outside, but then again, it could be because of the way Everett is looking at me with those eyes. Eyes that if I stare too long into, I might end up drowning and unable to come up for air.
“Wow. I’m sorry. That sounded a lot more poetic in my head than it did out loud.”
“Don’t apologize,” I reply, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “No one has ever said anything so romantic to me in my whole life.”
“Really?” He tries to sit up and adjust his position while being mindful of the stitches so they won’t tear.
I tilt my head to one side. “You sound surprised.”
“Well, if you’ll forgive me for sounding forward, but I thought you had someone back home. A husband, a lover, someone who says things like that to you all the time, but it seems to me that’s not the case.”
“No, I’m not married,” I respond, “nor do I have a lover.”
“So, I have a chance then?” He sounds so hopeful that it makes my heart skip a beat and brings a smile to my face. “I hear all the girls where you come from love rugged, rogue soldiers with messy hair.”
I laugh softly, unable to resist that charming smile of his. I cannot deny that Everett is in fact the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life and the bravest I’ve ever met. No one has ever made me feel those sparks and those butterflies like he does and he’s the only person who can make the outside world seem distant and out of reach even as the war presses on.
“Only if you try and get some sleep,” I whisper, gently putting my hands on his shoulders and easing him back against the pillows. “You’re sitting up well enough on your own now. That’s a good sign. How about tomorrow we shall see if we can get you up and walking again?”
“Only if you stay here with me,” he says, patting the empty spot on the bed beside me. I stare at the spot and then look over my shoulder, hesitating.
“You know, I normally have very strict rules about sleeping next to my patients, or any man I’m not married to, for that matter. However, we’re both grown adults. I will not cross any boundaries and I trust you to do the same.”
“That’s true. I am above all things, a gentleman and I give you my word of honour that I will not lay a finger on you unless you wish it.”
“Just for tonight.” I crawl into the empty space beside him. It’s not the most practical sleeping arrangement, considering how the bed is technically only big enough to fit one person, not two, and there’s little room for personal space, however, it’s not as if we’ll be locked in a passionate embrace.
We’ll just be sleeping. That’s it.
“Just for tonight,” he confirms.
It’s just like the sleepovers I had with my friends back in school, only much, much different.
I bury myself under the blankets and lay my head down on the pillow. We are so close to each other that I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he buries himself deeper under the covers and I swear he can hear my heart ramming against my chest and see the blush on my cheeks.
“See? That’s not so bad now, is it?”
Even with the lights out, I can tell he’s grinning from ear to ear and I’m sure he can tell that I’m rolling my eyes.
“Careful, or I might hit you with a pillow,” I say in a non-threatening tone.
“Ah, but if you do that, then I might have to hit you back,” Everett replies, “and if I may offer a word of advice, I think it’s only fair for me to warn you that all rules I have for the battlefield are thrown out the window when it comes to a pillow fight.”
“Hmm, now that I think about it, it would be unwise for me to challenge a soldier to a pillow fight and perhaps it’s best to keep our pillows to ourselves.”
“Smart girl,” he chuckles softly. Suddenly, I feel his lips on my cheek and lay still for a long, long time and I hear him add, “You said nothing about keeping my lips off of you.”
“Oh, well, I should have been more specific,” I shake my head and then without thinking, I lay my head down on his chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Y/N, you could never hurt me. Not in a million years.” He wraps his arm around me, rubbing his hand up and down my back in a comforting gesture. “If we ever make it back home—”
“When,” I correct him.
“When we make it back home, I want to marry you. I want to save up enough money to afford to buy you a proper ring.”
“I don’t need a ring. It’s a piece of jewellery and could never be as valuable as the love we feel for each other.”
“What about a house? Surely we will need a place for the nine of us to live in.”
“Nine of us?” I question.
“Yes. Nine of us. You, me, and our seven beautiful children.”
“Not so fast, Romeo. Let’s start with one and see how we feel afterwards.”
“And this is why I love you,” he says, giving me a gentle squeeze. “You’re smarter than me in so many ways and you have given me a reason to keep going, something worth fighting for.”
In the quiet, we whisper words of commitment and our hearts entwine in a dance that transcends the present chaos. We find hope in the idea that beyond the battlefield, a life awaits us beyond the confines of the makeshift shelter—a life built on love, resilience, and the promise of a tomorrow, where the echoes of war would be replaced by the laughter of a family.
And as I write to you here, dear reader, as I look out the window and see my husband and our three beautiful children playing in the meadow outside the window, I can confirm that our dreams did indeed come true, and that love does in fact, conquer all.
The End.
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summonedglory · 5 months
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Headcanon — On rage, sadness, and daughters
No proofreading, I will die on the hill of my grammatical mistakes. So I mentioned a while back that I wanted to write a drabble/headcanon about Fiora's conversation with her father, on the night before his execution. This is this headcanon. It's over 2,100 words long and not particularly well written (dialogue isn't my forte), so read at your own risks and while putting yourself in the shoes of an 18-year-old Fiora :') Trigger warnings for mentions of death, mentions of execution, mentions of death by poison, as well as dysfunctional family relationship and medieval misogyny.
Footsteps fell on the cobblestoned path that led to the jail, treading lightly and precisely—Far more lightly and precisely than the woman these footsteps belonged to felt.
You could have cut her anger with a knife—Eighteen years of itemized frustrations and grievances tended to do that to a person. Fiora had thought her wedding would be the culmination of it all. There were, truly, nothing more earth-shattering that she could do than to stand up for herself then, so close to the altar, and loudly proclaim she was her own person and would not be sold off as a political pawn in her family’s games or the Crownguards’. These hadn’t been her words exactly, but this was her resolve. At the time, nothing could have been a worse humiliation for her family than that, but it should have given her the chance to prove her worth. Her worth, not her father’s, not her family’s. After eighteen years spent stealing Cassian’s rapiers and making him teach her everything he knew, eighteen years of her parents’ attempts at moulding her into what a proper lady of House Laurent should be, it had felt vindicating to finally get something that would be entirely hers. Fiora might have pondered on the selfishness of this had she not been so angry. This was meant to be hers—Her fight, her chance at redeeming the family honour she had broken. She was skilled and confident enough in herself and her own abilities to know, whoever House Crownguard could throw at her, she would have come up on top. She would have won, her family honour would have been saved, and no one would have dared try to force her in a role she had no interest in playing ever again. Yet even that had been taken away from her, and by the very people who had tried to raise her to be someone she was not. Another event to add to the long list that fuelled Fiora’s seething anger.
Worse than her father taking her place in the duel had been him trying to poison his opponent—And her anger turned to rage.
Demacia had been built on principles of honesty, honor, and justice. Lord Sebastien Laurent, in his despair to save his family’s honour, had broken all these values. The fact he got caught was unsurprising and did not phase her—A just if humiliating consequence of his actions. Fiora had wanted to see him one last time before his execution in the morning—As if talking to him would somehow satiate her anger and placate her soul. Mostly, she wanted to look at her father’s face and let him understand the weight of the mistakes he had made. The man she finds in his cell is, however, not her father. Sure, he looks like Sebastian Laurent and his voice is the same it had always been when he calls her name, but he looks pained and small, and the sound of her name in his mouth feels strained, and lost, and hopeful—A far cry from the imposing head of the household she had always known, the man who hired a personal seamstress for her in the hopes she would take an interest in clothing, and who had spoiled his only daughter rotten, though with all the material things Fiora did not want or aspire to.
The realisation that he might have been the most amazing father to an entirely different child, just not to her, is a sour one and Fiora stills herself and stands in it for a moment, taking a deep breath in. The next step forward she takes feels shaky and uncertain, but she nods in acknowledgement more than in invitation. A few short steps had taken him closer to the bars, and he now rolls his shoulders back and seems to regain some of the composure of the father Fiora used to know. The familiarity of the gesture is enough to restore her confidence—and her anger. “How could you? Death by combat would have been a far better outcome than poisoning someone. I would have welcomed it, but you let your own pride get in the way of my skills and determination, and now—” A pause. “—now everything is ruined.”
Sebastian’s brows furrow in pain and hesitation, but Fiora cuts him off before he gets the chance to speak. “Don’t bother with lessons now. I know I was reckless. That was the point. You and Mother have always thought about House Laurent first, as a collective unit, and in your children as human beings second, and I was done entertaining that misogynistic ideal. Did you know I am a better, more capable fighter than both Cassian and Ammdar combined? I’m more sharp, more precise. I bothered to learn the actual theory and art of sword fighting, instead of just the moves, and—”
“I did not do it for House Laurent.” His voice cuts her off, loud, stern, and authoritative. Before she gets the chance to continue, he follows: “I am still the Lord of House Laurent, at the very least until tomorrow morning, and you will show me the respect this title is owed, instead of this childish emotional outburst. This said, if you have quieted down, I did not do it for House Laurent. I did it for you.”
“I could have stood my own ground.”
“You’ll have no choice but to do that now, yes.”
“No one of importance will ever trust or associate with House Laurent again. If you had let me fight, my success would have at least granted you all pity, and it would have been an honourable fight.”
“No, Fiora.” His voice grows soft again, and he extends his left hand through the bars. Fiora eyes the gesture cautiously, her own hands remaining firmly by her side. She had come here unarmed—a gesture of good faith, in case the guards questioned her presence—and felt impossibly small and vulnerable without her blade, a pale impression of herself. “People of importance will respect you now.”
“Nonsense!”
His lips thin and, for a second, Sebastian Laurent is not the Lord of one of the most important noble houses of the Great City of Demacia, but a father, frustrated that his daughter yet again refuses to listen to him, like she had always done.
“They will. But for that, you must be my opponent tomorrow. You must ask that a Laurent yield the blade that will take my life, and that this Laurent should be you.”
A mirthless chuckle escapes Fiora’s lips as she shakes her head. Her father had well and truly lost his mind, the plans he conjured up vile punishments for her going against the family. Here, however, he was behind bars, and she was not. This false semblance of power, mixed with the anger that had not yet subsided, emboldened her next words. “Haven’t I been disciplined enough already? You took away my opportunity to be heard, and now you would have me fight you? This is some new kind of cruelty.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded, as if this would get the young woman to listen. “There is cruelty in being the head of a household, and even more in loving and raising children.”
She had not expected him to agree. Hatred was easier when the object of one’s loathing was not reflecting on their wrong doings. In her silence, her father saw an opportunity. “You will have to learn about this now that this will become your role, but first you need to hear me. Volunteer to fight and execute me tomorrow. It is the only way for you to get what you want and preserve the family—The only way you stay alive and prosper.”
“No. You don’t mean that, there has to be another way.”
“There are plenty. This is the only one which will give you the power you seek.”
She wants to say that this was never about power, but about freedom—about her own agency—something which she is uncertain her father could understand. In Demacia, however, freedom and agency rarely went without power—At least not for noble families, not for her.
“All you need to do is win a fight. If you are truly an exceptional fighter, this should be an easy feat for you.”
“Of course, it would be. This is not about that, father.”
“What is it about, then?”
Fingers clasp against his still extended hand, as if she were suddenly pleading—Though what she is pleading for, Fiora is not quite sure. For her father not to die, for her to not be the one to execute him, for the heavy mantel of head of household to be passed on to someone who craved it more than her. Contrary to what everyone thought of her, her rebellion had never been about power—It had not had that foresight. In all the near-sightedness of her youth, Fiora had reasoned that she was important enough in her own rights, and had wanted the agency to act as such without pondering on the responsibilities that went with it. Pride, however, prevented her from admitting any of this, at least not in such blatant terms. Perhaps holding his hand could be enough.
“You are my father. It would hardly be appropriate for me to hurt my own family in this way.”
“Disavowing me is the only way this will work, Fiora.” Still his hand squeezes hers, a support far too slim for the task at hand, but the only support Fiora has in this moment.
“If you are so desperate to protect our family, why didn’t you consider it before poisoning your opponent?” And just like that, Fiora extirpates her hand from the man’s, away from the uncharacteristic warmth of his support. His lips thin again, this time in disappointment.
“Despair, child, is a situation I pray you never have to face, though you might ought to earn a few lessons in self-sacrifice in case you ever do.”
Fiora rolls her eyes at his tone, suddenly back to being the father she had always known but that had never known her, and he scoffs at her attitude.
“I am trying to protect you. Your victory and my death is the surest way to guarantee that.”
“No. You were going to fight instead of me.”
“I had hoped this issue could be resolved this way. When it became clear it couldn’t, I had a lapse in judgement, but I am thinking clearly now, Fiora. You must yield the blade, you must become the new head of House Laurent, and you must ensure our name remains respected.”
It is a poisoned gift. Meeting her father’s request would unequivocally tie her to the processes and protocols that had robbed her of her agency to begin with, placing a heavy burden on her small shoulders. Though perhaps she could beat them at their own game, make her family a better and more empowered one. And if she did not meet her father’s request, Sebastian Laurent would die anyway, the glory would go to someone else, and all honours would be lost. The reality of her lack of options left a bitter taste in her mouth, copper clinging to the back of her throat as she difficultly swallowed. Her anger tasted like bile and her sadness like blood.
“I’ll do it—For the sake of Mother, Ammdar, Alarick, Cassian, and Damian.”
Sebastian nods, solemn, but then Fiora is the one who reaches past the bars to squeeze his hands in hers, fingernails almost digging into his skin. He will have to forgive his daughter; she is trying not to cry. Copper, as it turns out, was the taste of tears.
“Where do I start? What must I know?”
“First, that I love you, child. You at least must be certain of that.”
Fiora thinks back to her childhood, and to everything that has led her here. She thinks of the countless trainings in secret, of the family that had never seen her, of the love and care they had had for a version of herself she would quite simply never be. She thinks that even now, in his last moments trying to protect her, her father is still bestowing her with insurmountable responsibilities. She thinks that she likes a challenge, and is grateful for the possibility to go through these responsibilities her own way. But most of all, she thinks of fathers and daughters as two ships in the night, struggling to see one another and yet crossing paths. She thinks of honour, duty, and justice, and how family can twist the meaning of these words.
For once, Sebastian was the right father, and she was the right daughter.
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incarnateirony · 7 months
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I. Think I figured out Vacation Boy's problem.
Um.
I think, despite all my anger, no offense intended here, he is a little uh. Mentally handicapped.
Some of his recent behaviors started stacking up as does certain expressions he makes. There's a certain "deer in the headlights mouth open" freeze hard to explain in text, when they're caught on something, and they like, expect to get yelled at.
Then I looked at his age and realized he would have been like 13-14 when the uh. IQ bar for mental handicaps got shifted about ten points. So right around when people might notice he might need a hand here, he probably slipped through the cracks.
*Note, IQ tests aren't a be all end all, education level and availability can play a part, which is why some people suggest flex in the diagnostic. But it is, in fact, a criteria--and generally set low enough that it falls outside of what one might call "Average Sub-Average" margins.
But um. If he's used to squirreling through things and is utterly flabberghasted when I don't take his weird attempts to rephrase things, he's probably deflected most attention, and coasted on 90s-current White Guy Powers.
I had this thought in the middle of the investor group and my eyes popped open. And everyone was like. wait. wait, holy shit hold up, everything makes sense, wait. HOLLUP.
So he does have things he's legit good at like animals, and DOES like jobs where he helps people, and does great in those capacities. But then he runs into things with First Ideas he locks on and can't let go of that conception, and spreads out real big, then wonders why he fails and his ego gets shattered.
It hit me the night when he was like
"Did you tell (my ex gf) that I said (some super sexist shit) 'because Feminism?"
"Uh, not exactly in those words, but yeah, (counterpoint to the sexist shit)"
"Nono, that's not what I-"
"[First names him with tone like scolding a child.]"
He deflects his eyes. "I mean that might be the subtext of what I said but it's not what I-"
[repeats name/tone] "You and I both know, what you and I both mean and meant."
[freezes on the spot with The Look]
Me, realizing: .. oh my god [goes back through long series of interactions over the years]
I review a long string of, "I can do that!!" "I think I can do that!!" "I'll do my best." and overly simplified understandings. And suddenly I'm processing them in a whole other light than before.
He visited the other day and I tried to handle it as if genuinely handling the IQ of a younger age average. The 'give a kid a chemistry set and say you'll study with him'. "Hey. You know I'm germinating my stuff right now, and you said you were getting the personal cultivation license, right?" Right? "Well... instead of going like $1000 in buying equipment and it going less than great at first, I had an idea."
I watch him freeze. It's like he's expecting a shutdown. "Well. I got two free bonus seeds. And they're a strain I never tried before, and autoflower. And I remember you wanted autoflower because it was less complicated. So I thought, why not give you one of these in a personal pot, and you like, take an extra LED or one from your landlord coming back in a few days with stuff? I'm going to be learning this strain too, you know. So I figured you can have a little pet plant on your desk or something to figure out how it works, and it's just a free seed so if it doesn't work out that's okay, and you can watch how it matures and maybe even understand my thoughts on it when I start discussing what I notice about the strain? We already have all the stuff... it doesn't put us out any."
And he was like. R-really? Are you sure? Yeah! I'm sure. And oh my god his eyes lit up. Then he ran out the door and next day got right on a bunch of stuff. "Hey I'm at walmart do you need more promix? Look! I got the receipt!!" Thanks!!!! :)))))))
And I was like. here's the tough one. So he was on that "was my employee at old company" thing. And yeah, my training there was geared for. Shall we say. A wide audience not necessarily up to any specific bar since the company wasn't picky with new hires. And I had two good references. And I was like. Hey, can you help me out? Yeah, what's up. Well, I wanted another reference. "Are you sure I won't mess up? I don't want to mess up what anyone else says I really want you to have that job." Yes, I'm sure, I just want you to be honest.
Ok. And then he started getting nervous and copy pasting the questions to me "it says please describe candidate's work related strengths." Okay, so I have you down as a former employee. So describe why you thought I was a good coach for you. "OK! I'll do my best." Yeah, I just want you to be honest. Like you used to say I taught better than the other coaches, right? Stuff like that.
So then he pastes me his and it's DEFINITELY in his voice even if he spelled my deadname wrong but, lol that's fine my others are super professional references, and he's never had to call me that. It was, overall, a relatively competent and thought out thing a short paragraph long. "How's that?" That's good!!
So it asks what I can improve on. Mind you, this is Vacation Boy. He enters "Sometimes too focused on work and is really knowledgeable so sometimes (s/he) says too much until (s/he) learns how to communicate with you." THANK YOU!!
Were there any interpersonal problems at work with this applicant? "I don't know because s/he didn't say much about internal things to employees but everyone was unhappy when s/he left and the company shut down not to much longer after that." I wasn't about to correct his Too. This is effort. He is caring. Would you hire again? "I wasn't /her manager but I'd love /her as a supervisor at any job again as s/he was by far one of the best I ever had." Thank you, man.
So he got to the end--and mind you, this man ran from his job trying to lean on mine, and dodged any applications or anything for literal months now. But he knows it's for an LGBTQ crisis line and yes, he did emergency dispatch in the past, so apparently it asks if you want to hear about job opportunities with them and he clicked YES. And then started panicking "Oh no it needs my resume I haven't updated that yet!" I bet you can find the site later. "Nono I can fix it up real quick. There. Wow it's asking why I think I'd be good for the job too. They just closed their LGBTQ one but the general suicide support line is still hiring!" Wow, okay, lets get this ship turned around together. C'mon my guy, get it. I TURNED IT IN!! AND YOUR REFERRAL!! YAAAAAAAAS GET IT.
And I'm sitting here reading it over and going. Holy shit. This is literally a man that has been failed by the system and slipped through the cracks until everything else became untenable. The midlife crisis of mediocre white dude hit him like a freight train and he didn't know how to do it anymore, he admitted recently he didn't even know food or rent prices anymore, and he was trying to learn.
This is like. the opposite of when autistic folks like myself get called "gifted" so we get ignored while teachers focus on other students or lack study skills then run into a brick wall just to be told, nah, ur too smart for brick walls, you're not struggling. And then we struggle in that shit for life. But it's the same effect. I genuinely think he slipped in between that IQ/mental disability change with his age bracket and coasted as a solid C student that started running away from why he was Never Enough the older he got. And that's probably why he latched on me as a coach. Ironically, I got too close, and started treating him akin to my normal MENSA-ass friend group on expectations and understanding, and not like an employee I had to prepare for uh, generally training the proverbial bottom of the barrel. So once I got too close I couldn't see WHY he had attached to me.
But I think I understand how to work with him. It'll start with him getting his license and us sharing my Two Free Seeds to compare notes as a starting point, not another big jump he tries to launch into and burns out on when it doesn't work right.
I get it. I finally get it now. Other things like when he gets stuck on "but the lady said," "but Carrie said," "but David said," The man had gotten confused somewhere and thought he couldn't be on food stamps because "he makes too much with disability" like no man that's an automatic qualifier, here's the government site "but ten years ago a lady told me-" did the lady know your income WAS disability? Uh, I can't remember. OK let's get you applied. Then when he showed up before the Realization Hit when I was like THANK YOU, this is what I wanted to see, getting in the right direction. And he was just. So happy to get basic praise on it. Then goes "This is the earliest appointment they could get me at the office." [10 days off] "You know you can call them on the phone, that's how I did mine--" "but the lady said I'd done all I can right now." "Well yeah, at the office, there's only so many people there but there's lots of callers if you take a few hours on hold." "But the lady said--"
IT ALL. MAKES. SENSE.
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missnight0wl · 1 year
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I have many thoughts about Jacob & MC's in-game parents
Some of which are :
Exactly WHAT year did they split up in ?
Why did they split up ?
Which side of the family did Jacob & MC inherit their Legilimency from, their father's side or their mother's side ?
Is Jacob & MC's last name their father's last name or their mother's maiden name ?
What year were Jacob & MC's parents born in ? ( I'm assuming they were both born somewhere between September 1st 1942 and August 31st 1943 )
Is there a possibility that Peregrine may have had an affair with another woman ( or more than one affair ) during his marriage to Jacob & MC's mother ( either willingly or possibly while under the effects of the Imperious Curse ) that may or may not have resulted in him knowingly/unknowingly siring an illegitimate child ( or more than one illegitimate child ) ?
In regards to questions 2 & 6, yes I admit that Peregrine being away from home way too often due to work may have caused enough strain on the relationship to result in separation or divorce ( especially if there had been more than one argument regarding Peregrine's job ), but I don't think it's the sole reason behind Jacob & MC's parents separating
If Peregrine WAS seeing another woman behind his wife's back, since his job involves traveling, it would be easier for him to cover up the affair. I also think that IF Peregrine had an affair, the affair might have began somewhere between the birth of Jacob & the birth of MC.
Maybe the reason behind the 9-10 year age gap between Jacob & MC was because their mother had experienced some miscarriages in the years between their births or had trouble getting pregnant again after Jacob's birth ?
I feel like Peregrine may have originally planned to have a big family ( I'm assuming for selfish reasons ), but his wife having trouble conceiving or having miscarriages in the years after giving birth to Jacob may have put a damper on those plans ( hence why he might have started having an affair )
Now, if Jacob & MC DO have a half-sibling ( or more than one half-sibling ) running about, either
A.) The mother of Jacob & MC's half-sibling(s) is a member of R & the half-sibling(s) grew up believing in R's goals and may or may not know that Jacob & MC are their half-siblings
B.) Some of the R members kidnapped the half-sibling(s) from their birth mother when they were very young & were raised by an R member and may or may not know that Jacob and MC are their half-siblings
Or C.) The half-sibling(s) grew up with their birth mother without much or any knowledge about their birth father & zero knowledge about their birth siblings
Now that I think about it, Peregrine might have been cheating on Jacob & MC's mother before they had even gotten married ( cause I have a feeling that Peregrine was very popular amoung the female student body during his time at Hogwarts )
Sorry if this ended up being a very long ask and I apologize if I ended up rambling for most of it 😅
Once again, I apologise for the very late reply. I'm a bit distracted lately, guys. However, if it takes me longer to answer, it's absolutely not because I don't want to discuss things with you. On the contrary, I always want to give you as thorough answer as I can, so I don't want to do it when I'm not in the right state of mind, let's say.
I'll try to address all of your points, but that being said, I'll also link some of my previous posts. I just feel like I explained some issues pretty well in the past already, and so I assume it'll be the most informative for you.
Now, without further ado!
1. It is unknown, and I'd say the information we got is rather confusing. It's being said all the time that MC was very young when Peregrine left their family. At one point, Jacob even says:
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And MC said in the same conversation, for example:
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Then we also had this:
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And honestly, I think it'd make the most sense if MC was 3-4 when Perry left. However, nothing was ever confirmed. And then Peregrine said this about the amulet:
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Now, it definitely implies that Peregrine was still with his family when he found the amulet. The thing is that 10 years ago MC was 7-8. Admittedly, Peregrine said "for over ten years", but if it was much more than 10... why he didn't simply say: “for over 15 years”, for example? I know JC hates being specific with dates, but “over 15” is still quite vague and at least more consistent with what was said before.
2. The official version is that it’s because Peregrine chose work over family.
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And while I see why you might not be convinced by it, I think it’s quite reasonable. I mean, it was the time of war when Peregrine started disappearing. It’s understandable, in my opinion, that the Mother eventually was like: “If you can’t stay to keep us safe, I don’t need you in my life at all”. And sure, it’s possible that Peregrine’s prolonged absence had something to do with his affairs, but… I just don’t see anything in the game that could confirm it. I honestly believe that Peregrine chose WORK over his family. I think he has a bit of a god complex, judging by the way he talked that his job was helping people and whatnot. I talked more about it not long after he was introduced to the story, in this post.
3. It was never confirmed by the game, but I believe that Peregrine is a Legilimens. I talked about it more HERE.
4. It is unknown. Peregrine was referred to as “Mr Lastname” just once, by Penny. However, it can be interpreted in different ways. More about it HERE.
5. Again, it is unknown. However, some speculations can be made. Personally, I still believe that Jacob was born in 1966 (full analysis of Jacob’s age available HERE). Now, assuming that the Mother got pregnant very shortly after graduation, it’d mean that they were about 18 when it happened and then 19 when Jacob was born – meaning that Peregrine and the Mother were born in 1947 or earlier.
6. It is possible, but as I mentioned already, I don’t see anything in the game that could confirm it or even hint at it. It’s a “Schrödinger's Cat” theory: it’s both possible and impossible, simply because we don’t have enough information.
It’s also hard for me to comment on the rest of your message because it’s based on assumptions. To be clear, I’m not saying that you’re wrong. I just think it’s not necessarily the only explanation for what we know so far. For example, a while ago, I proposed that perhaps Peregrine and the Mother split up TWICE and that’s the reason why there’s a big age difference between MC and Jacob (more about it in this post). Is it possible that Peregrine had an affair in the meantime? Sure, but it’s also possible that he didn’t. And yes, it was said that Perry was always a charmer, but it doesn’t have to mean he was a womanizer. It CAN mean that, but it doesn’t have to mean that. For example, during our conversation with Dumbledore, Peregrine actually mentions the Mother:
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… but there’s no comment by Dumbledore that “Many girls were interested in Peregrine before he settled with your mother” or something. You know what I mean?
The same goes for any potential half-sibling(s). I don’t see anything in the game hinting at that. However, JC still can pull it out of their ass, just like they did with Peregrine himself.
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