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piratesfromspace · 3 years

Text

The Nightmare (Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: Reader has a pretty awful and vivid nightmare involving Din, Cobb and them being kidnapped. Comfort ensues.

This story is part 3 of my series “A Mandalorian, a Marshal, and some complicated feelings”. You can read part 1 here: “Two saviors and some hope” and part 2 here: Five Times. I strongly advise you read them first!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: detailed description of violence, blood, threat of sexual violence (but no actual), threat of slavery

A/N: Neutral pronouns for reader but they are perceived as feminine by the villain (no specific description of Reader's body). English is not my native language, please be kind. Fic also available on ao3.

MASTERLIST

Part 1 Part 2

“On your knees.”

You fall on your knees on the cold steel floor of the ship. You don’t really remember how you ended up here, the only thing that you know is that the hand that pushed you down is now grabbing a fistful of your hair to have you raise your head. It’s an order more than an invitation, the pressure on your neck on the brink of becoming unbearable at any moment.

Your captor is towering above you, dark-blue skin and mean red eyes looking at you with something dark in them. You struggle against his grip, but it’s useless and you know it. Your hands are tightly bound behind your back. You’re already hurting all over, the taste of blood and despair in your mouth. He finally lets go of your hair, and your head falls limply on your chest.

“I told you I couldn’t wait to put a new chip in your brain, right? Well let’s get on with this.” You can guess the cruel smile on his face, the disturbing way he seems to be enjoying all of this way too much. “Hold her down.”

Two of his thugs grab your shoulders and upper arms, preventing you from going anywhere. You feel his own hand grab your neck, and the touch of his bare slimy skin against yours sends a chill of disgust through your whole body. The cold device bumps into your neck, just above his fingers, and as a wave of terror hits you, you feel a sharp pinch followed by an awful sensation of burn slowly spreading in your nape.

“So? Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

He removes the metallic device and lets it fall on a nearby tray with a theatrical clatter. Tears are filling your vision with the realization that all you’ve done up until now, trying to survive and build a new life for you, all of this was for nothing. You’re a prisoner again, with a freaking tracker chip stuck to your skull.

“Now, what else did I promise back in this small alley…” He circles you slowly, like a freaking loth-wolf playing with his prey before killing it - or worse .

“Oh yeah, I think I mentioned your two little friends.” He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at his face. His pupils are blown wide, two orbs of blackness in a glowing sea of lava-red. “So I think we should welcome them then, what do you say?”

It’s like he’s speaking about actual friends, and his casualness becomes more and more terrifying as you’re living, helpless, your own demise.

With a quick move of his hand, he signals his crew and a few seconds later, the door in front of you slides open. Your jaw goes slack as you watch half a dozen of the slaver’s men bringing in the Marshal and the Mandalorian. Despite their hands bound and the chains linking their ankles, even visibly exhausted by what should have been a long and gruesome fight, the criminals are having a hard time containing them both. They are coerced into kneeling, strongly held back by your captor’s henchmen, facing you.

“No, no, no, no...” it’s a whisper at first, but it becomes a scream you cannot hold back. Through your tears, you can see the dried blood in Cobb’s beard, the mess of mud and dark unknown fluids on the rare pieces of beskar still on Din’s body. You're almost relieved to find he still has his helmet on, even though the black glass of the visor is visibly cracked.

A blue hand is suddenly splayed across your mouth and chin, shutting you up.

“Shh shh, that’s how you say hello to your friends? Not very nice!”

In a reckless reaction, you withdraw from his hold in a quick move of your head and bite his nearby fingers with all the strength left in you. He jerks back, cursing, holding his injured hand while a few droplets of blood trickle on his clothes. You don’t have the time to savor your little victory before the strength of his blow forces your face to the side. You kinda knew there was going to be a backlash, and you don’t regret it. Your cheek was already bruised anyway.

“You’ll regret this.” he growls through gritted teeth.

You hear him rummaging behind you, probably trying to swipe his hand clean from the blood on it. Good luck with that.

“Well, where were we? Oh. Right. My mark. Bring me my tool.” he snaps his fingers impatiently and one of his goons brings him what looks like a branding iron. The end of it is star-shaped, and you can see sparks running around the metallic edge, ready to burn his mark into your flesh.

You start trashing against the hands that hold you down, a vain attempt to escape what’s coming next. You’re not the only one struggling though, Cobb and Din trying to break free as well.

“Let them go!” Mando’s voice, usually steady, sounds desperate “The bounty put on my head by the Hutts, I bet it’s high enough, you don’t need to keep them. You don’t need to keep him either.” he says with a nod of his head toward Cobb. “If you free them, I’ll promise I’ll let you deliver me to whoever offers the highest reward.”

“Din, no, please...” Cobb seems to be on the verge of crying.

The Chiss seems to be gauging the offer. The smile on his face grows bigger and he finally speaks, looking thrilled.

“That’s an interesting offer, Mandalorian.” his smile changes into a mockery of a pout. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. See, I’m sure I’ll be able to get a very good price for your girlfriend here. Look, almost as pretty as a Twi’Lek! She’s worth some credits for sure... even more so if I trade her as a pleasure slave.” He says this part with a nasty grin, deliberately taunting the men who were supposed to protect you, like you weren’t even there. For him it’s not about you, it’s about getting revenge for that one time they freed you. You’re just a pawn in his little game. Anger joins the atrocious cocktails of emotions you’re already feeling. Of course, both Din and Cobb battle against their shackles and the men trying to contain them, letting out threats you all know they can’t follow up on.

“Enough of this.” The Chiss barks. “Now before we begin, one more thing, Mandalorian. I would not want for you to miss anything because of a broken visor.” He turns to the two guards in the back of the room. “Remove his helmet.”

You shriek, and as unholy hands grab the beskar, you close your eyes. Cobb’s yelling is breaking your heart, you hear metal clatters, fabric being ripped, the muffled thud of a blow in the gut. You squeeze your eyes even harder, you don’t want to know what’s really happening, don’t want to see Din’s face, not like this. Of course you had already imagined seeing what he looked like, but on his own terms, when and if he wanted to, not forced by some evil brute.

“Oh come on, open your eyes woman, I’m sure you want to see.” You shake your head. Your captor starts losing patience. “Open your eyes, or you won’t have any left” he threatens, his fist grabbing your hair again.

“Did you hear what I said?”

He tugs so painfully at your scalp, you’re so scared, you’re so lost, you finally give up and open your eyes. Your vision is blurry but your gaze falls immediately on Din’s face. He’s handsome despite the sweat and the dark traces of blood smearing his face, features almost like you had imagined them. He’s looking at the floor, livid, and you can’t even fathom the hurt and the shame of the humiliation to be exposed like this, on top of being unable to prevent both of his lovers from getting hurt.

“Yoo too, look at him!” Your tormentor is next to Cobb now, almost strangling him, trying to make him follow his order. The Marshal makes a series of desperate noises, gasping for air, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Stop it, please! Please...” The distress in Din’s voice is gut-wrenching. It’s the first time you hear him plead for mercy.

“It’s okay, Cobb, do as he says, it’s okay, I swear.” Cobb probably knows it’s not okay, and that the reassuring words are nothing but a way for Mando to try stopping the arm done to him. But he has no choice than to listen and he finally looks at him.

You can read the word sorry on Cobb’s lips when his eyes meet Din’s.

“You all are a bit stubborn, for Maker’s sake.” Your captor looks slightly upset. “But we’re not done yet.” He comes back behind you, and takes his branding tool while the guards holding you slice open the back of your shirt with a vibroblade. You can hear the device buzz to life behind the protests of your two beloved and the voice of the Chiss.

“You better stay still for your own sake.”

You can’t think of a reply because the tip of the iron touches your skin, just next to your right shoulder blade, and the pain eats away all your thoughts. It hurts like hell and more. You try to squirm away from the device in a gut-reaction. But it’s worse. You want to scream but there is not enough air into your lungs and it feels like you can’t take any more breaths. Your vision is filled with dark spots and you’re sure you’re gonna faint any second.

That’s when you wake up.

With a small gasp, drenched in sweat, out of breath. The room is dark and quiet. You silently slip out of the bed, heading for the refresher and trying not to disturb the two men peacefully sleeping next to you.

You put your head under the faucet, letting the cold water run on your face, fingers rubbing your skin, like you’re trying to erase the memories of the nightmare.

Kriff, what is wrong with me?

There is a soft knock on the door.

“You ok sweetheart?” Cobb’s voice is still hoarse with sleep.

You let the door slide open to reveal your Marshal, tall and handsome with his messy grey hair. The familiar figure warms your mood more than you expected.

“Just a nightmare.”

“Like the usual ones?”

“Not… really.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Mmm” it’s not a yes, neither a no.

“Want to go back to bed?” he tries tentatively.

“I don’t think I can sleep right now. The suns are gonna start rising anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m not sleepy either.” you know it’s a blatant lie because Cobb had been yawning non-stop since the beginning of your conversation.

“I’ll go make us some caf. And then we can even watch the sunrise if you’d like.” He adds with a kind smile. You appreciate the offer nonetheless.

“Join me when you want, honey.” he turns his heels to leave but you stop him in his way.

“Cobb?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a hug?”

He lets out a chuckle and takes you in his arms. You melt into the warmth of his body, your head resting on the solid plane of his chest. He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

When you join him, he’s already on the small deck in front of his house, and he hands you a steaming mug of sugary caf. You sit on the bench, next to him, and he wraps an arm around you, his hand resting on your waist. You sip on the hot drink, tongue almost burning, letting it ground you in the moment. The air is just warm, not as cold as during the night, not yet as scorching as during the day. The two suns are lazily rising above the horizon, the sky all sorts of pinkish colors.

“You know, this nightmare, it was… It felt so real.”

He hums in approbation, doesn’t want to interrupt you.

“Remember when I told you what he said that night in Mos Eisley?”

No more details are needed for him to understand who and what you’re talking about.

“Well, everything he said… it happened in my nightmare. He captured me. And you, and Din.”

“Hey, it’s over now, ‘was just a bad dream. I won’t let anyone hurt the people I love, I promise.”

He tucks you closer against him and you know he means it. You clear your throat, hesitant to go on.

“The worst wasn’t the pain, wasn’t even when he mentioned he would sell me to a brothel or something, it was when he removed Din’s helmet and he forced us to watch.”

You needed to let this detail out of your system. You leave out the part involving a star-shaped mark, at least for now, because you know Cobb is wearing one on his back and you don't want to bring back more bad memories.

Cobb’s fingers are clenching against your hips. He sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to experience this, love. I know how dreams can seem so vivid, it’s legit traumatizing. Please wake me up next time, I don’t care if I’m having the best sleep of my life, I want you to feel safe, always. I’ll do anything you need me to.”

“I know.” you whisper, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

You take another sip of the delicious liquid out of your cup, and as the light of the two suns is slowly casting the streets of Mos Pelgo into an orange glow, warming up the sand and your skin, you feel like the shadow of your nightmare is finally retreating, burnt away by the new dawn.

#star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth x din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #reader insert #gen reader #the mandalorian x cobb vanth x reader #din djarin x cobb vanth x reader #polyamory #tw nightmares #ptsd #cobb vanth imagine

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nancydfan · 3 years

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I see a lot of people painting Ethan as a villain for killing the Lords, especially Lady D and her daughters. And while I’m salty he didn’t take Heisenbergs deal, all the Lords attacked first. Like, every time. And as we saw with Moreau, if they hadn’t attacked him and had just given him the flask, he. . . probably would have just left.

I understand there was more at play especially with Mother Miranda’s manipulation, but oh my god, Ethan literally would have rather not have gone through the effort of killing them.

And people especially talk about how he was actually chasing and attacking Donna, but she still attacked first. I will see that baby in my nightmares.

The people I’ve seen say this are ones I recognize as already carrying a bias against Ethan or for the antagonists of re8. Like I get being frustrated your character died but it doesn’t make Ethan the villain no matter how one tries to twist the facts.

For example, I’ve seen ppl remark about Lady D’s sadness when her daughters died and the fact that Ethan just doesn’t care. And why should he? Not only did they string him up by the hands, did they care about the mama’s who lost their daughters to their blood baths and bottles? We all played through the dungeon. And they were absolutely going to kill him??? That wasn’t even a question. It was Ethan’s fate if he didn’t stop them.

I have a bunch of morally gray to villain characters who have bit the dust over the years and I have cried many times. Yes, I wanted redemption for most. Others I thought got a bad shake. But I never looked at the hero and went, yeah, actually you’re the villain. Except maybe once but that was due to atrociously bad writing. Like astonishingly bad. Otherwise I can be sad or angry and think my character deserves better, but the hero is almost always justified.

They stole the man’s daughter and then tried to stop him when he retrieved the flask. Yes, it sucks cause Miranda was manipulative and maybe if they had stopped and talked we could have had a different outcome. But it’s not how the game went. They all went to violence.

I loved Donna and I think she’s the least offensive of the four lords. I hate she had to die. I wish she’d talked to Ethan cause I think he’d have understood and helped her escape. But that option wasn’t on the table. You can want better writing or explore what could have been, but as it stands, they are the villains; Ethan is not.

It’s also 100% okay if your favorite character likes to drink the blood of innocent people. Let them be their bad self. Write your AU where they win and Ethan doesn’t. You don’t have to bend canon facts to do that.

#thanks for the ask my friend!!#resident evil #ethan winters #Resident evil 8 #fandom discourse #I can add tags if needed #no hate to the lords #I think they all were awesome - just not saints #mrs joe speaks

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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Home Is Where the Heart Is - @doubleredweek Day 2

Read on AO3

Jason is bleeding, he’s bleeding and delirious and yet still somehow finds the time to complain as Roy pulls into the lot of a bright, nightmarish looking motel.

“We are not staying here,” Jason grumbles from the passenger seat of the, let’s call it borrowed, Honda Civic they’ve been driving in for the past twenty minutes.

Roy turns his head giving Jason a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look as he pulls into a spot as far away from the main lobby of the motel as he can.

Tonight had gone almost entirely tits up with what should have been a fairly routine stakeout becoming an all-out battle of them versus a crew of creepy human traffickers.

The traffickers will be spending the rest of their days either in jail or thanks to a few bullets from Jason six feet under. However, Jason had taken a bit of beating along the way, enough of one that he doesn’t get to do anything more than get better right now.

“You are bleeding from about seven places on your body that you shouldn’t be bleeding, you don’t get any say in where we lay our hats for the night,” Roy responds as puts the car in park and moves to get out. “Plus, the next motel isn’t for another fifty miles and you’ll probably get sepsis because of the blade sticking out of your shoulder before we could get there so deal with it.”

He doesn’t wait to listen to Jason’s strained arguments he just slams the door shut and heads for the trunk. He pulls the first sort of clean thing he can find in thre from one of their bags and slips it on to cover up the majority of his Arsenal costume and the few cuts and bruises he’s sporting himself. It’s an old Gotham Knights hoodie of Jason’s, for a moment Roy considers looking for something else his Star City Stags blood crawling wearing enemy colors, but decides against it considering his boyfriend is bleeding in the passenger seat.

He half jogs his way to the main lobby where the front desk sits. The electric bell on the door jingles a variation of that little boxes song that’s accompanied one too many suburban horror movie trailers over the years as Roy walks in. Roy’s eyes practically have to squint at the colors inside. The bright lurid pink paint of the exterior has nothing on the mix of greens, yellows and pinks inside.

“Welcome to the Home is Where the Heart Is Motel, how can I help you?” an old woman behind the desk says. She looks like someone’s grandmother, like she has her dinner at four in the afternoon, Jeopardy! At 7:30 and then she’s promptly off to bed. She doesn’t look like she should be working a front desk at nearly two a.m., but she definitely looks like she designed this place.

Roy puts on his best I’m a good, respectable young man smile and asks for a room without incident. The old woman just smiles not missing a beat when he asks for the room furthest away or a do not disturb sign that he tells her will be up probably their entire stay, she doesn’t give him the questionable looks or the bored disinterest that most people in her position give them. She doesn’t even bat an eye when Roy asks for just one bed for he and his boyfriend. When she tells him to have a lovely stay, he actually believes her.

The place may be atrocious to look at, but it’s not all that bad Roy decides, Jason’s just being extra judgy with his blood loss.

The next forty minutes blur past him so quickly he doesn’t really even pay attention to what their room looks like. He tosses their bags on the bed and quickly settles Jason on the closed toilet seat and gets to work stripping him of his bloodied gear and bandaging up every injury.

The bright pink garbage can and the canary yellow sink look like crime scenes by the time Roy is done cleaning every wound Jason has and removed the small blade that had been stuck in his shoulder.

Jason seems more awake once he’s been patched up and Roy’s given him a cursory wash so he settles him down on the bed while he takes care of himself. By the times he’s done washing the grime out of his hair and finishing off yet another bottle of peroxide on cleanup Jason is upright on the bed cleaning his guns his eyes scanning the room every so often.

“This place is ridiculous,” he says eyes concentration never straying from the task at hand. Now that he has the chance Roy really takes in the decor. The bathroom he’d just cleaned up is subtle with its yellow and pink tile and floral shower curtain compared to this.

This is your grandmother’s dream home. The bright pink and green walls are lined with decorative plates mostly covered in poppies, but with a few Princess Diana memorabilia pieces mixed in. The bed is covered in horridly yellow sheets with a clearly handmade quilt in a kaleidoscope of prints on top, the bed frames an elaborate wooden nightmare that Roy is truly concerned if you slipped and fell would impale you immediately. There’s even a couch in the corner covered in plastic, perfectly preserved in its original condition.

Passingly Roy thinks maybe he should have just cleaned up Jason’s wounds on that instead.

Okay, so maybe judgy blood loss Jason wasn’t totally wrong, but they’ve definitely stayed in weirder and way more unsettling places. The Elvis isn’t dead themed motel in Arkansas comes to mind.

“It’s fine,” Roy says falling onto his side of the bed jostling the components of Jason’s gun he’s yet to reassemble. Jason throws him an annoyed look that Roy just smiles cheekily back at.

“Good thing I’m feeling better because there’s no way I’m going to be sleeping with the color of these walls,” he says swiftly piecing the last of his guns back together. “Either that or I’m going to have terrible dreams of evil suffocating plastic couches.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, the lady up front was very sweet, it’s like spending the weekend at grandmas!” Roy says with a smile.

“I never had a grandma,” Jason says with a shake of his head falling backwards onto the bed guns discarded off to the side with the safety on. “And you didn’t either for that matter.”

“Aw, Jaybird come on, this place is all about home, look at the name!” Roy defends as he leans over the bed and switches his crystal bedside lamp off.

“If this is what you consider homely you shouldn’t be allowed to own a home,” Jason says gesturing around the room in a general manner. He leans over turning off his own bedside lamp before shuffling under the covers curling up against Roy careful of his tender ribs.

“You’re welcome by the way, for not letting you bleed to death,” Roy says into the dark, that okay, isn’t fully dark he can definitely still see some pink and green even with all the lights out.

“I wouldn’t have bled to death,” Jason huffs. “But thanks.”

Roy rolls his eyes even if Jason can’t see it and pulls him close snuggling in comfortably under the ugly, but warm grandma quilt for the night.

#my fic #jayroy #jayroyweek2021 #jason todd #roy harper #writersmonth2021

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violetteshoneybee · 4 years

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Hide and kiss //

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: On a Sunday afternoon you and your friends decide to play a wizard version of Hide and Seek...

Word count: ~ 1.8k

Post date : 7/25/20

A/N: Well, that’s my first imagine I hope it’s not too bad. Please let me know if you liked it. Also, if there’s any mistake in English, please tell me. 🙏 Please check my Wattpad if you're interested in French fanfic :) https://www.wattpad.com/user/mysterioustruffle

Warning: My english :) ; fluff ; slight angst

♾️ REQUEST ARE OPEN ♾️

*Gif is not mine*

You groaned slightly while letting your potion book fell on your face. Sundays afternoons always have been a nightmare. It was so long and boring. Everybody were taking a nap or in deep studies even the marauders were calm. You wanted to raise and do something but the tall guy asleep on your stomach was keeping you from getting up. Remus was your closest friend. You were aware of his lycanthropy and how much he was suffering because of it. The last full moon almost four days ago had him exhausted but he was recovering.

You slowly passed your hand in his hair, letting it slide between your fingers. Remus’s arms clenched around you and you blushed at the sight of his cheeky smile.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Sirius exclaimed rising from the armchair where he was laying. “Let’s do something”

“Sirius, we’re in October. We can’t go outside it’s raining.” Lily whined, tearing her cover on her eyes.

“We could play Wizard Hunt? C’mon, we’re all bored as f-…”

“There’s first year, Prongs. Keep your swearing for yourself.” Remus mumbled against your shirt before rising his head.

“What are the rules?” You asked removing your y/h/c hair from before your eyes and closing your book. “I mean, I’ve never played it before so?”

“It’s a wizard version of hide and seek. But you can jinx the players when you find them. Also! Invisible cloak are forbidden.” Lily was giving a death glare to James as the others were gently chuckling. Remus stood up passing a hand in his hair. The light of the fireplace was highlighted his eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.

“I’m in.” Marlene barely opened her eyes before answering.

“Too” Peter smiled while finishing one of his amazing drawings.

“Well, it’s better than doing nothing. I’m in.” You said before getting up.

When everyone agreed to play, each of you headed to your dormitories. Lily wanted to grab some stuff and a reward for the winner while Marlene and you just wanted to ask some other girl to play with you.

After what feels like an hour of debate to know if yes or no Mary and Alice would join you, you just let go and sat on your bed. You crossed your legs watching the scene, your face reposing on your palm. You didn’t want to bring many people in that game, you knew it wouldn’t be as fun as the boys wanted it to be. And you had to admit you didn’t want other girls to come. Lily and Marlene were interested in James and Sirius and then, there was you with Remus. It became hard for you to not think about Moony. You thought your feelings weren’t shared. You fancied Remus since many years now but you never risked to tell him how you truly felt, how bad you were falling for him and how sad you were every time he was coming back of full moons with fresh new scars. Usually at this time, he would just nudged his nose in your neck and ask to cuddle. Recently, Remus began to avoid you before and after every full moon. You couldn’t help but feel hurt. Follow me I'm escaping you; escape me and I will follow you… It was making you sick.

In the boys' dormitories, the marauders were reunited on their bed, chatting together. His head stuck between a pillow and the mattress, Remus groaned, visibly annoyed by the discussion.

“You’re being quite rude with Y/N. That’s our friend Moony, remember?” James calmly said

“I can’t just tell her: Hello Y/n, I may have a huge crush on you but whatever haha yes, of course, we can still be friends.”

“You can,” Peter exclaimed, pulling one of your letter in front of Remus nose. “So you’re telling us, you write to her every day but you can’t just tell her that you fancy her.”

“No.”

“You know what? We won't let you waste your chances. If you lose, if we find you, you’ll have to tell her everything.” Sirius’ lips turned in a mischievous smile as Remus sighed.

"Okay," Remus removed the pillow from his face and took a look at his friends' face. "And if I win?"

James and Sirius burst in laugh. "You won't."

--------------------------------------------------

You ran through the corridor, letting your eyes travel on every door. It was almost time for Sirius to come search for you all so when you heard his voice singing that he was coming, you couldn’t help but panic. You felt a hand grabbing you waist and pulling you inside a small closet, you keep your eyes closed thinking it would be a boggart but Remus’s soft voice calling for you make your heart melt and your eyes opened wide.

“You’re fine?”

“Yes… You’re quite cute for a boggart.” You joked slightly.

“Thanks, to be honest, you're not as bad as Filch”

You chuckled before having Remus’ index on your lips as a silencing way. You nodded before taking a step back and hitting the wall of the closet. You two were so closed you could feel his breath on your neck, the heat radiating your skin.

“Don’t move, I’m gonna give you some extra space.” You said following your instruction.

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, you’re taller than me and you’re not a contortionist, Rem.”

Remus sighed before letting his head rest on the corner, his eyes travelling around you. He was doing all he can to not look at you, he was too embarrassed and well, he didn’t know what would happen if he did look at you.

During almost 5 minutes neither of you were talking but you could swear Remus was able to hear your heartbeat. Godric, it was so fast you were wondering if you weren’t dying of a heart attack. And let’s not talk about how red your cheeks were. You were almost sure Remus could see them. You moved just a few centimetres to release the tension in your arm as Remus beat himself against the closet door.

“Ouch!” You chuckled watching him rubbing his head. You were about to talk when you heard footsteps. Remus glared at you, pulling out his wand.

You heard distinctly Sirius's voice when he opened the closet, sending an expelliarmus in Remus way.

“Well, well, well… It looks like you lose Moony. I hope you two will have a nice time!” He smirked before closing door, preventing you from exiting.

“Wait, Sirius!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him. Again Remus was trying hard to avoid the eye contact. At this sight, you felt your heart broke a little more. You couldn’t bear it anymore. You were losing one of the most important people in your life and you did not even know why.

“What’s the problem, Rem? What did I do?” You asked softly, you couldn't help but play with your hands as all kind of answers were passing throughout your mind. "If I did or said anything that offended you, please... Please, tell me."

"It's not you."

"Oh come on, don't play this card with me..." You sighed. You never meant to hurt him and seeing him leaving your side was an awful feeling. "I don't want to lose our friendship, Remus. I-... Tell me what's the matter so we can fix it. It's... breaking my heart."

Remus sighed "The fact is, I don't want our friendship anymore Y/N."

Your eyes widened as you felt the air leaving your lungs. You desperately search Remus's eyes, analysing his face in hope to find a hint that he 's joking. Your hands were shaking like hell. You slowly swallowed, putting your hands in your pockets and taking your wand.

"Well, at least, thank you for being honest." Your voice was crackling between the words while your vision began to blurred, tears already falling on your cheeks.

Faster than you could say quidditch, you were running in Hogwarts's corridors. They've never seemed so long for you. This atrocious feeling in your lungs did not help. You were feeling like your breath was cut by a knot in your throat. Your entire body was shaking and you didn't know if it was because of the cold or because of your tears.

Despite the mess in your head, you knew perfectly where you were heading. The cold wind hit your cheeks and your already red nose as you exited the castle. Your tears were blending themselves with the rain. When you finally reach the Black Lake's shore you felt released. You sat on the dark sand, your legs against your chest and your face buried in your hands. You weren't fully there anymore. Your brain was concentrate on the sounds of the water and trees around you. The powerful wind was lifting your hair from your shoulders.

When Remus watched you running away from him, he felt like if you were taking a part of his world from him. Your part. He clenched his fist and came out of the closet. You were already too far. Remus was cursing himself for being so stupid. He should have told you that he wanted more than your friendship, that he was actually in love with you. Then, he saw you on the shore, completely soaked. It forced a smile on his lips.

Remus approached you, thinking about all these things he loved in you. How kind and gentle your smile was, how your eyes widened when you were talking about something you were passionate about. How you were able to see the good in people who lost hope. And your amazing y/e/c eyes which had the talent to make him melt without even a word.

He remembered all that before removing his cloak and pulling it on you. You lifted your head, your eyes piercing through his.

"I'm in love with you. That's what I meant when I was saying I didn't want our friendship anymore. You make my world better by just being you. You put your arms around me and I literally feel my knees buckle, this is so pathetic. I’m just not good enough." Remus revealed softly

"I love you too, Remus Lupin." You said getting up and passing a hand in his neck.

Remus mouth curled into a smile while his eyes were travelling from your eyes to your lips, asking permission to kiss you.

“Then, may I?”

You chuckled before crashing your lips against his. You two wanted this for so long. The taste, his hands on your waist everything was overwhelming.

"I love you, Y/N..."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #writing #fanfic #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #first imagine #first fanfic #imagine

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

Text

“No One Listens” || YEAR 3 – Ch.40 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 2/6/2021

Word count: 2,888

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather and Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey as she moved Harry into a bed next to Ron. He looked pale and there were beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

“When will he wake up?” Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey placed a cold towel on his forehead and sighed. “Soon I suspect. How many where there?”

“Dozens, maybe hundreds… or more…” Heather tried to count all the misty cloaks in her memory but they all morphed into one nightmare-ish cloud of anguish and torment.

“Oh dear.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head and moved onto Ron again.

Heather and Hermione sat on the chairs by Harry’s bed and waited for something to happen. Hermione seemed to be waiting for Harry and Ron to wake up, but now that Harry was safe under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Heather waited for Professor Dumbledore to show up like he always did after these events.

She would settle everything with Professor Dumbledore as soon as he arrived and save Sirius, their only chance at a better home. She and Hermione would tell him everything that happened and their reputations as good students should at least warrant an investigation into it all.

“Shocking business…” a grim voice sounded from outside the hospital wing, just barely audible enough in the quiet chamber. “Shocking…”

Heather turned and strained her hearing.

“Miracle none of them died…”

Heather turned to Hermione and whispered, “I think that’s Fudge.”

Hermione nodded. “Is he alone?”

The voice was growing louder. He must be walking down the hall towards them! Heather moved to stand at the foot of Harry’s bed, ready to face the Minister of Magic with the unbelievable truth they’d all learned tonight.

“Never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…”

“Thank you, Minister,” Snape said courtly.

Heather’s courage began to diminish. If Professor Snape was the one he was conversing with, then her reputation as a good student would surely be ruined if he mentioned her attack on him to Cornelius Fudge. She wondered if it was possible for her school file to transfer to a ministry file. Would her future employers be able to open up a file and know all the reasons for her detentions? Maybe she should hide again…

“Order of Merlin, Second Class, I’d say. First Class, if I can wrangle it!”

“Thank you very much indeed, Minister.” Professor Snape had never sounded more kindly.

Heather and Hermione exchanged wide-eyed looks. Although Professor Snape had done nothing for uncovering Peter Pettigrew and his whereabouts or listened to Sirius plead his innocence OR saved them all from Professor Lupin’s werewolf attack… She supposed she could look the other way, considering Harry was safe in bed next to her and not at the mercy of hundred or more soul-thirsty dementors.

“Nasty cut you’ve got there… Black’s work, I suppose?”

Her courage drained completely.

“As a matter of fact, it was the Potters.” He now sounded right on the other side of the hospital doors.

Furdge gasped. “You don’t say! Why, I wouldn’t have thought Harry to be the kind to – ”

“Black had them bewitched. I recognized it immediately. A Confundus Charm on each one, Weasley and Granger included, judging by their behavior. They seemed to believe there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren’t responsible for their actions… However, their interference might have led to more serious consequences had I not regained my consciousness in time. I believe they thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. Had their previous bad behavior not been excused, I’m sure they wouldn’t have even attempted it. They’ve gotten away with a great deal before now… I’m afraid it’s given them a rather high opinion of themselves… And of course the Potters have always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster – I can hardly manage the girl with the boy being permitted just about anything.”

Heather closed her gaping mouth and crossed her arms. ‘Manage’? Her frown was as deep as Hermione’s. How were they to convince him if Professor Snape was going around saying they had been Confunded!

“Ah, well, Snape…. You know how it is, with Harry Potter and of course his sister… We’ve all got a bit of a blind spot where they’re concerned.”

“And yet – is it good for them to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try to treat them like any other student. And any other student would be suspended – at the very least – for leading their friends into such dangers. Consider, Minister… against all school rules set in place for them, after all the precautions the Ministry put in place for them, they found themselves out-of-bounds, after hours, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer – and I have reason to believe they’ve been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too – ”

“Yes, yes, well… We shall see. We shall see… They have been undoubtedly foolish – ”

“Foolish. Half-witted. Irresponsible. Imprudent – ”

“They are children after all – say, you’ve really no idea what made all the dementors retreat?”

“No, Minister… By the time I had come ‘round, they were all heading back to their positions at the entrances.”

“Oh dear… Their behavior both amazes me and frightens – to be perfectly honest. You don’t think Black had commanded them in any way before he fell to their effects?”

“Trust me, Minister, Black hasn’t the skill or capacity for the knowledge. He is merely a dangerous murderer through sheer excitement for chaos and his atrocious disregard for lives. Potter is lucky to be alive. If the dementors hadn’t exhausted Black half to death – ”

Heather jumped. Was Sirius really half dead? But he wasn’t being treated in the hospital wing… Hermione looked to her with concern. She hoped Professor Snape would leave already so they could have the Minister’s ears to themselves.

“I am sure this night would have ended quite differently,” Professor Snape finished.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Heather turned to Madam Pomfrey and saw her looking down at Harry. She was carrying the largest brick of chocolate she’d ever seen.

She took out a little wooden mallet from her nurse’s apron pocket and began crushing it on Harry’s bedside table. “Belgian dark chocolate, only used for emergencies. And don’t mind the cocoa solids if you find any, those’ll perk you right up – What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Potter?”

Harry sat up and slid his glasses up his nose. “How’s Ron?”

“He’ll live – Just one moment, Potter – ” She tried to push him back into bed but he wiggled out before she could.

“We need to see the Headmaster,” Harry said hoarsely.

“Fudge is right outside,” Heather told him. “When he comes in here we can, but first – hey!”

“Good then let’s go tell him right now.” Harry pushed passed Hermione and Heather and headed for the door.

“Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as soothingly as possible. She had come around the bed and planted herself in his way. “It’s all right. They’ve got Black. He’s likely already locked away upstairs. The dementors should be performing the kiss any moment – ”

“WHAT?” all three of them yelled.

Madam Pomfrey angrily sushed them. “Mr. Weasley is resting – as you should be, Mr. Potter.”

The hospital doors swung open and Professor Snape and Cornelius Fudge stepped in, having heard their exclamation. Fudge didn’t look very pleased, seeing Harry out of bed and trying to get around Madam Pomfrey.

“You should be in bed, Harry.” He turned to Madam Pomfrey, “Has he had any chocolate?”

“Excuse me, Minister, please,” Heather cut in before Madam Pomfrey could drag Harry away. “Please, its important – ”

“Sirius Black is innocent,” Harry began talking over Heather. “We saw Peter Pettigrew tonight! He faked his death – we can’t let the dementors do that thing to Sirius! He’s – ”

Hermione joined in the explanation. “He was Ron’s rat, Scabbers, of course we didn’t know that – he’s an animagus you see and – ”

Fudge was shaking his head and waving his hands around, trying to halt their talking. “Harry, children – Please, you’re all very confused. This dreadful night has been far too much, hasn’t it? Let’s get you back in bed, Harry. Madam Pomfrey, please. Don’t worry, we have everything under control, children – ”

“BUT YOU HAVEN’T!” Harry yelled. “YOU”VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”

Heather clasped her hands together pleadingly, desperate. “It’s true, please believe us, he’s innocent and Peter Pettigrew is getting away – ”

Professor Snape approached from behind Fudge’s shoulder. “See, Minister?” he whispered. “Completely confunded… Black’s done quite the job on them all.”

“NONE OF US ARE CONFUNDED!” Harry roared, throwing his arms up angrily.

“Minister! Professor! This conversation is distressing my patients and I must insist that you both leave.” Madam Pomfrey now began motioning them both away. “Mr. Potter, Miss Granger – this way to bed, please.”

“No! I’m not distressed! I’m trying to tell them what happened if they’d just listen!” Harry said furiously but Madam Pomfrey had found the perfect opportunity at the last word and stuffed a chunk of dark chocolate in his mouth.

Madam Pomfrey pulled Harry by the arm and forced him into bed. She turned back around and pointed at the door. “Now, visiting hours are over, please, Minister.”

But before Madam Pomfrey could shoo them out, the door opened and Professor Dumbledore came in, spotting them immediately.

Heather ran up to him and walked by his side as he approached the group. “Professor! Peter Pettigrew is gone – and Sirius Black is – ”

He walked on, ignoring her completely without even a look her way. Her heart dropped. Everyone was ignoring them! An innocent man was about to die and not a single person in the room was willing to hear them out!

“Headmaster, I’m trying to deliver the proper care to these students. I must insist that everyone leave so that they may calm down – ”

“Of course, Poppy, my apologies. However I do need a word with the Potters and Miss Granger for just a moment.” Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry, “I’ve just been talking to Sirius Black – ”

Professor Snape scoffed in revulsion. “And is he still telling the same fairy tale he’s planted in their minds? Something about a rat and Pettigrew being alive – ”

“That very one,” said Professor Dumbledore, regarding Professor Snape closely over his half-moon glasses.

“And does my evidence count for nothing?” Professor Snape spat. “Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.”

“That was because you were knocked out!” Heather said too quickly to rethink her words.

“And who’s fault was that!” he snarled.

“But it’s true,” Hermione began, sounding like she often did in class. “If you had only arrived in time to hear – ”

“Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

The Minister jumped at Professor Snape’s tone. “Now, Snape. They are clearly disturbed in the mind. After what happened, we must make allowances – ”

“I would like to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore cut him off. “Cornelius, Severus, Poppy – Please leave us.”

“Albus! But they need rest and – ” Madam Pomfrey frowned at Professor Dumbledore’s polite smile and huffed. She marched off across the room and slammed her office door shut.

Fudge took out a large golden pocket watch from his waistcoat and consulted it. “The dementors should have arrived by now.” He looked out the window and shivered, turning back to Professor Dumbledore. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” He walked to the door and held it open for Professor Snape.

Professor Snape made no intention to leave and Fudge walked out, letting the door close on its own.

“You surely don’t believe a word of Black’s story?” Professor Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Professor Dumbledore’s half-lidded eyes.

“I wish to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore repeated politely.

Professor Snape took a step closer. “Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill ME?”

“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore said quietly. He stared down at Professor Snape for several seconds until he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door louder than even Madam Pomfrey.

As soon as it turned quiet, the three of them began speaking at once.

“Sirius is telling the truth! We saw Peter Pettigrew escape – ”

“ – he’s an animagus and ran when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf and – ”

“ – a rat with only four fingers – ”

“ – is completely innocent and it’s really Pettigrew who – ”

Professor Dumbledore pressed his finger to his lips and they immediately stopped talking.

“You three must listen very closely, and there is no time for interruptions,” he said calmly. “It is your word – the word of three thirteen year olds who have already been accused of being confunded – and the word of a convicted criminal against the Minister’s and a member of my staff – a head of house no less – with no shred of proof to discredit the street full of eyewitness accounts who swear they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potter’s Secret-Keeper.”

“But Professor Lupin can – ” Hermione was cut off by Professor Dumbledore’s hand held up to stop her.

“Professor Lupin is currently running deep within the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will have been too late for Sirius. Even if Professor Lupin could give his account to the details of tonight it would count for very little. Werewolves are deeply mistrusted by most of our kind and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends – ”

Harry was shaking his head. “But – ”

“Listen to me, Harry. It is too late for explanations. By the time you get anyone to listen to you, Sirius will be worse than dead. Professor Snape’s version of events is far more convincing than any of yours.”

“He refuses to listen because he hates Sirius!” Hermione wiped the tears that had started running down her cheek. “That’s why he refused to listen in the shack. All because of some stupid trick that Sirius played on him YEARS AGO – ”

“Sirius’ actions this year have not helped his reputation. The attack on the Fat Lady, entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife, none of those are actions of an innocent man. We would need Pettigrew, alive or dead, to have any chance at overturning Sirius’ sentence.”

Heather frowned. “But if you believe us, Professor… Can’t you – ”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. “I have no power to make these men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic.”

Heather’s lips began to tremble as she ran out of ideas. What could they do? Their word didn’t matter. Sirius’ word didn’t matter. Professor Lupin couldn’t give his word and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. In a matter of seconds Sirius could be given the kiss and not even Professor Dumbledore could save him. Do they just give up?

She hugged herself and squeezed tight, wishing she could go back in time and act more enthusiastic about possibly living with Sirius. She regretted feeling so cautious about him and not participating in their special moment in the tunnel, godfather and godchildren reunited. “So then, what can we do? What do we do?”

Professor Dumbledore’s tone changed and he spoke very slowly, “Sirius is locked in a prison cell inside Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. To save Sirius… we’ll need – ” His eyes moved to Hermione. “more time.”

Heather stared at Hermione intensely as she pieced together what Professor Dumbledore was saying.

“But – Oh!”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “Keep in mind, you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law – and you know what’s at stake… Do – not – be – seen.” He turned on his heel and was already across the room by the time Harry had realized their conversation had ended.

“B-but what – I don’t – ” Harry sputtered.

Professor Dumbledore opened the door and looked at them over his shoulder. “I’m going to lock you in. It is – ” he pulled out a pocket watch and flipped it open, “five minutes to midnight. Three turns should do it. Good luck.”

He closed the door and a click echoed through the chamber. Harry whirled around and stared at Hermione with Heather – who was crossing her arms over her chest, still staring but with an added frown.

Hermione ignored them and pulled on a golden chain around her neck, pulling a little trinket out from under her sweater. “Come here, both of you, quick!”

Harry moved towards her and Heather was pulled into them before she could open her mouth to start her long string of complaints. Hermione threw the chain around the three of them.

“Ready?” Hermione didn’t look up at them for confirmation. She picked up the trinket – it was a tiny golden hourglass with sand that sparkled with the light – and began twisting.

Heather watched her closely. “And when were you going to tell us about – ”

At the third twist, the hospital chamber dissolved.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

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#harry potter #heather potter #pro snape #severus snape x oc #severus x oc #snape x oc #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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feminaexlux · 4 years

Text

A Day or 3 in the Life Of...

It was @bloody-no-kissu‘s birthday a week ago (oTL) and I made a Body Swap AU fic for her! Happy (belated) Birthday Bloody! Btw this is Part 1 of 2 🧡

Rated T for a little bit of language I guess

∴

"Hey."

Marinette was still asleep sprawled out over her bed, sheets pushed off.

"Hey, wake up." She felt someone jab her in the side, so Marinette grumbled and turned away from the annoyance. Oddly enough, that other voice sounded like Juleka. "Are you still Marinette?"

Wh-what? Oh no, that's right. Marinette slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She was in Luka's room. In his bed.

In his body. Still.

Which meant that the akuma she defeated yesterday (in Luka's body, that was a surreal experience) wasn't the origin of this problem. She bolted upright, startling Juleka. "Wh-what time is it?!"

"Still Mar, then," Juleka sighed. "It's so weird seeing Lu all… like you, I guess," she mumbled, shaking her head. "Time for class."

"Which class?" Marinette groaned, covering Luka's face with Luka's hands. "Oh god I… I probably… ugh." She needed to… take a shower? Why was Luka's face so itchy? Did Luka need to shave?

Why was Luka's crotch so itchy? Oh no. How did he deal with this every day?

She got a ping on her phone from Luka. They had swapped phones just in case.

Next class is ____, I'll send you directions

Because Luka was in Marinette's body.

This was a very surreal sort of nightmare, but… on one hand Luka seemed very… respectful of the situation. If it had to be anyone, and if it had to be any boy in particular, Marinette had begrudgingly accepted that Luka was the best choice.

Neither Marinette nor Luka answered any calls but they kept sending out texts as needed. For the most part everyone around them didn't find things too strange about either of them. No one but Juleka and Luka's best friend figured it out for Marinette. Surprisingly, Alya immediately picked it up for Luka, but Alya never said a word to anyone else. Alya had followed enough akumas and spoke to enough victims to know that sometimes people were affected in deeply private ways.

But most people didn't notice the switch, which was a relief. Except it was almost heartbreaking that Adrien didn't seem to notice a change.

"Okay, Marinette, you can do this," she said, Luka's voice coming back instead of her own. She still needed to get used to how different his voice sounded when she was in his body.

thanks Luka. Here's my schedule…

how are you doing?

Fine, are you okay?

He seemed to be managing things for her well enough. Marinette wasn't sure if she should be upset or not, but he'd made and sold the excuse that Marinette had caught a cold and was feeling under the weather. That's why "Marinette" had been so… "chillax", as Alya called it.

as ok as we'll be

The only bad thing was he hadn't been nearly as concerned with dressing the part of a Fashion Designer (still in university) as Marinette had hoped for. He had just kinda thrown on whatever seemed comfortable and left her tiny dormitory room. Maybe he might have a better idea today? Marinette wasn't sure. Then again it didn't feel right to expect that from Luka, except for what happened yesterday.

Chloe Bourgouis had stopped him in the afternoon and tried to ridicule him in front of the whole campus. Marinette was there to watch it unfold (mostly because Luka didn't have anything scheduled at the time and Marinette was a natural busybody). Luka stood there calmly listening to Chloe provide a bulleted list of everything that had been such an atrocious fashion faux pas about lame Marinette Dupain-Cheng's choice in clothing.

Luka had looked thoughtful while Marinette was fuming. Chloe couldn't talk to Luka that way! Especially not when he was piloting her body!

Luka (as Marinette) had spoken up after thinking for a few seconds. "Interesting points. I'll consider that. But next time you don't have to be such a bitch about it." He had adjusted the backpack and continued walking off, leaving Chloe and Sabrina (and everyone really) in a relatively stunned silence.

Well, okay, Marinette supposed that was handled… alright. Marinette probably would have sputtered and squawked and made herself look worse but Luka seemed just… observant more than anything.

Now she was just overthinking. She shook her head to refocus on what to do next. Take a shower, get dressed, I should get some breakfast maybe? Head to Luka's class and maybe try to talk with Tikki after to figure out how the heck to break this… curse thing. If it wasn't the akuma yesterday… could it have been another akuma?

Empress was a trickier Butterfly user than Hawkmoth ever was, so maybe Empress had sent out a secondary akuma to wreak havoc more passively while the flashier one took Ladybug (or rather, Red Beetle for Luka's body) and Chat Noir's attention.

God, as if it wasn't hard enough trying to get through university. Now she and Chat Noir had to deal with a villain that was smart enough to use diversionary tactics. She got into Luka's class and sat at the back with Dingo, Luka's best friend. "Hey Dingo," Marinette sighed.

Dingo raised his heart-shaped sunglasses to his forehead and squinted at her. At Marinette in Luka's body. "Hey babes," he said casually. "Still a lil' scrambled, ain'tcha?" Marinette just nodded sadly. "Aww, come on baby girl don't worry. I'm sure Ladybub and Cat Nerd will figure it out!"

"God, I hope so," she said, leaning forward on the desk and dropping Luka's head in his arms. Luka would look like he'd passed out to anyone else but at least Marinette been recording the lessons on her phone for Luka so he'd be able to catch up. That had been what they agreed to when they first found out after waking up that they'd been swapped yesterday morning.

Now that was such a painfully awkward memory. Thankfully Luka was cool enough to accept her pathetic and inane attempt at an excuse to swap earrings. "They're a family heirloom," Marinette had pleaded. "I mean, they mean a whole lot to me! The me me, you know? I… I need to be the one to wear them?"

Marinette ended up being more thankful than anything that it had been Luka that fate had bound her to. He had just nodded and gently took the black studs off, handing it over to her without complaint.

She wasn't going to assume it meant anything more than his taking her word for it. If he knew she'd been Ladybug all this time, that'd… that'd be something, and that something wasn't good. Probably.

Dingo leaned in and whispered "How's Lulu?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "I thought you and Luka text each other all the time."

"Pfft, like he'd say anything," Dingo snorted. He hid a smile from Marinette. "But you got a way with him, yanno? Maybe that feminine wiles of yours."

"Yeah, like I have any of that right now," Marinette rolled her eyes again. "It's just so awkward though. He's doing so much better than I am and I'm… I just hope I'm not messing anything up for him." She sighed and sat up only to slump down low in the chair.

"You're alright, Mari. Well. Probably. Imma say that maybe this whole body swap thing hopefully won't be permanent or anything you know? Me and Lulu have a gig coming up in a few weeks. You see I'm thinking maybe you didn't pay attention much to his 'guitar lessons'," Dingo had said with air quotes. "Not sure Luka was really teaching you at his best either," he snickered.

"Oh, oh God, I hope it's not permanent! Oh God Dingo why did you have to go and even suggest that?" Marinette groaned, putting Luka's head in Luka's hands. "This is already pretty stressful! Ugh, I wish I knew how to deal with it like Luka does."

Dingo snorted. "Trust me, he's 100% as freaked out as you are."

"No way."

"Yeah? Next time you see him, you take a good look at his hands."

∴

Okay, Marinette wanted to meet up so they could swap notes for the day. This was fine, this was perfectly reasonable. She had wanted to do that yesterday and that went fine, just fine. Everything was just fine.

Luka wasn't going to mention that maybe he spent maybe an hour staring at… himself? Well, okay, at Marinette. He hadn't been sure it'd be comfortable going to bed with her hair still up in pigtails. When he pulled off the hairbands as gently as he could and her hair came undone like it did, it caught his eye and he looked up at the mirror and saw that Marinette was…

Gorgeous, that was the word.

He'd lost his ability to think for a while. She'd never let her hair loose in front of anyone and he had no idea why. He knew she was already pretty and cute and adorable but… something about the loose hair took it up a couple of notches.

So yeah, he wouldn't mention that little detail to her. He'd be seen as kind of a hypocrite after he told her he didn't… didn't really think about her that way. God, why did he say that? "Bodies are bodies, Marinette," he had told her, when she had freaked out about him having to… do anything in the bathroom.

He'd meant it at the time. He'd treat her body like a temple. He did. He really tried to anyway. He just also… appreciated like any good tourist would, maybe? Oh God that was creepy, stop thinking about it Couffaine.

Okay, she was going to get here in a few minutes.

He wasn't going to mention anything about her hair. He wasn't sure how to get it back into the pigtails again but he tied it back in low ponytail. Hopefully she'd be okay with that? He wanted to keep things fairly consistent for her, and he'd never seen her not have her hair tied so he managed a ponytail.

He also tried dressing up, sort of. It hadn't been at all what he intended but he got more attention yesterday trying to dress casually rather than less. That… Bourgeois lady had tried to bitch at him for wearing track pants or something. Along with a hoodie. Luka was honestly baffled at how seriously Chloe took everything about Marinette's clothes. He had heard from Juleka that Chloe was a major pain in the ass, but having to deal with it in person was… an experience. And it was over clothes? Did Chloe Bourgeois have nothing better to do?

He knew Marinette had a little drama and spitfire in her too, but the way Marinette used her force of personality was to help everyone.

Luka loved her for that. Still.

But she wasn't supposed to know that. He did his best to let her know it back 5 years ago when he was 16 and a bit less reserved with his stupid music puns, but she wasn't into him. That was fine, that was totally fine.

Except maybe it wasn't entirely. And this? This body swap thing? Probably pure karma for him just… being an idiot or something. Or being a complete and utter… coward. Now Hawkmoth or Empress or Karma or whatever spiteful Divine Entity had punished him by putting his mind in her body.

The really unfair bit was that she was in his. Marinette didn't deserve any of this crap. Still, it wasn't like he was Ladybug and could fix everything with a Lucky Charm. God he had no idea how to fix this, and it hadn't been the akuma yesterday!

"Hey?" It was something like his voice coming from nearby. Luka looked up and saw… himself, looking somewhat amused. "Did you wait long?"

"Not really. What's up?"

Marinette, in his body, sat down and pulled out her phone. "Just wanted to send over the class notes before I forgot. Also I wanted to check in and um, I guess, see how it was going with you?"

"It's fine." It was fine. It was all just fine. He finally noticed she was staring at his hands, and he looked down and saw that he'd been tapping the little café table with her pen. Apparently hard enough that he made a slight indentation to the wood top. Whoops. "Oh." He stopped and put the pen back in Marinette's bag. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, Luka, you know it's… Are you sure you're okay?"

He stared up… into his own face. God that was going to take some getting used to… then again he really didn't want to get used to having a literal out-of-body experience. Somehow even though Luka was a generally expressive guy, Marinette being the pilot meant that the facial expressions on him were slightly… more? Maybe not exaggerated but definitely more obvious. He actually thought he looked kinda goofy and winced. "Uh, just… it's still weird. That's all."

"Yeah. I'm really hoping it's something Ladybug and Chat Noir can fix. And soon."

"Oh, did something come up?" Luka asked.

"Er, um. Well, no?" Marinette stumbled. "I just meant I'd… not that your body's like bad or anything but I'd love to be back in my own body! I'm sure you hate being in me." Marinette choked. "I-I-I mean… oh god." She facepalmed. "A-anyway, ahem. Yeah." She pushed her phone out toward him. "Here, uh, just so you're not missing anything relevant!" She laughed nervously.

"Do you think it's actually an akuma?" Luka asked, suddenly hit with a suspicion. "I'm wondering why the Ladybugs didn't… fix this. Do you know anyone else that's going through this?"

Marinette blinked, then frowned, putting a finger to her chin. His chin. Whatever. "No, actually. Not even the LadyBlog mentioned anything like this. But what else could it be?"

"I don't know. I'm throwing it out there just in case it's not the obvious answer. I don't have a suggestion on what it could be though."

"Ugh," Marinette groaned, resting his head on the table. "Why is this happening…" She raised his head back up. "Oh, good choice in clothes, by the way."

He stifled a laugh. "Thanks. Didn't want to get you in trouble with Chloe again."

"Pfft, ignore her. She's just petty."

"Did you have to deal with that before?" Luka asked, feeling slightly guilty that he'd unintentionally made Marinette an easy target.

"For the past 10 years or so, yeah. Don't worry, she's always been kind of a bi--bothersome." Marinette had caught herself in time before uttering anything untoward. "Where'd you find that jacket? I thought I lost it a while back," Marinette giggled.

Oh crap. He probably should have thought about what to say about all this but he had… he really had gone through her closet and dresser trying to find something that he thought Marinette would wear. He wasn't a designer in any sense of the word, but he kind of remembered Juleka talking about some of the clothes and the styles she'd modeled when she got steady gigs from a punk design house.

He also figured that Marinette would look good in red and black.

It'd been a somewhat self-indulgent early morning of him trying out a few different outfits Marinette had, and trying to figure out what she looked best in. He had grabbed a red half-jacket and a slim, short black dress and almost tried wearing heels but went for the practical ballet flats Marinette usually wore. He wanted to be stylish, not accident-prone.

"Hey?" Marinette waved a hand in front of him.

"Sorry, was trying to remember where," he smiled. "But I can't. I'm just glad you approve," he said. Oh, that… that was another thing. "And… a couple of other people approved as well." This was going to hurt. "Adrien said you looked lovely in this." She did, but it felt kind of wrong to say that while he was inhabiting her body.

"O-oh really?" Marinette had blushed and tried to cover it up by coughing. "That's nice!"

This was really going to hurt. "Yeah. He asked you out, by the way, but I said you… you'd think about it. He says he's good next weekend for dinner and a movie."

Marinette looked pale. Which was pretty odd in his skin tone. "We have a problem," Marinette groaned. She took her phone back from in front of Luka and scrolled to her messages.

Hi Marinette, it turns out that I didn't have next weekend free. Let's meet up tomorrow!

"I didn't know what Adrien was talking about until you just explained it," Marinette said anxiously.

"Maybe you should tell him no?" Luka half-asked, already knowing that she'd never shoot down Adrien. He knew it was the one chance she had to finally have Adrien notice her as more than just-a-friend. Only Luka was the one that looked like Marinette right now.

"I-I think… I mean we could… we could wake up back to normal tomorrow?" she laughed, brushing hair away from her… his face in a nervous gesture. She stopped, staring down at something. He looked at the same place and noticed she was staring at his… her hand.

Luka had been unconsciously tightening Marinette's hands into fists so hard they had white knuckles.

"You're… right. I should say no, I'll go ahead and say no." Marinette said simply. "If we're still in… this mess tomorrow it's… not fair to you." She smiled down sadly at Luka, reaching out with his hands to unclench and massage hers. It felt… intimate. And… it felt like he was asking Marinette to keep silently suffering like she'd been all these years. He knew how much that sucked.

"I'll do it," Luka said impulsively. "If we're still… like this tomorrow, I'll go ahead and… make it work."

"Luka, you don't need to…" Marinette trailed off, their hands still intertwined.

He tried to smile. "Hey, I think it's time, right? Finally Adrien's noticed. You gotta take this chance."

Marinette looked back down at their hands. "Adrien noticed… the outfit," she muttered to herself. "And he noticed you…"

"Mar--"

"But… if you're willing to help me out, I… I think this is a good opportunity. I've always wanted to see what would happen, and… maybe this is a blessing. You won't be a wreck like I'd be, anyway!"

Luka had his doubts.

∴

Marinette had a plan. She had almost decided on an outfit for Luka to wear except… well that wasn't what Adrien had noticed. She had asked if Luka wanted to style himself again, but… his reply was oddly sweet. Luka had just said "This is your date. I want you to feel comfortable and be happy with it. That includes wearing whatever you want me to."

It wasn't as if she hadn't already planned out the whole date thing in her head about 25 million times and 25 million variations. She knew exactly how she wanted it to go: what to wear, which movie to see, where to go for dinner that encompassed both convenience and privacy. She'd tried to be considerate of Adrien Agreste, semi-permanent bachelor supermodel (and how it might look to other people). She had checked the weather and the sunset time and if certain places were open for the day and if everything was walkable. She just had to adjust for the fact that it was Luka that would actually be on the date and not her.

Actually, if she thought about it, it was a lot better this way for multiple reasons. She'd be free to go out and do her Ladybug duties if the need arose, and Luka was a mirror-surface lake compared to her turbulent white water nerves.

Marinette and Luka had agreed on a somewhat discreet earpiece if there was something that had to be communicated immediately. Marinette didn't want to admit it to herself, but… there was something about this whole situation where she felt… her future was safe in Luka's capable hands. She owed him big time.

Which was why when the date ended, she was so, so thankful that she'd been in Luka's body instead of her own.

∴

"Hey, that was fun!" Adrien said cheerfully. "Next time we should bring Alya and Nino with us."

That sounded… wrong. At least, that sounded like it didn't belong in a romantic date. "… What do you mean?" Luka asked. He'd been doing everything Marinette had asked and it still lead to this? Did Luka really ruin this somehow?

"It was great to hang out, just the two of us, but I think the more the merrier right?"

Luka was confused. "… Hang out? This wasn't a date?"

"Yeah, like a friend-date, right? You'd been so down recently that Nino said I should take you out to cheer you up!"

Oh jeez. "Are… are you kidding me, Agreste? You invite a girl out to dinner and a movie and you say it's not a date?" Luka asked, an edge of acidity in his voice. "How could you lead a girl on like that?"

Adrien looked taken aback. "We've been friends forever, Marinette. You've been feeling down. I thought friends did things like this to cheer you up?" Adrien started looking panicked. "Oh no, did… did you think this was a date? I-I thought Kagami was just being weird when I said you wouldn't think of me like that! I should have listened--"

"What the hell does Kagami have to do with all of this?"

"I'm dating Kagami, Marinette! I've been with Kagami ever since you got us together! That's why I didn't think you'd mistake this for a date!"

"Luka…" he heard Marinette sigh shakily over the earpiece. But no, this was… this was bad. And Luka was angry.

"For a man who's a freaking model and supposed to be meticulously worried about your image, can't you pull your head out of your ass for one second and take a good look at what's happening? You do not take a girl out to dinner alone, especially a girl that's been in love with you for ages, and say that it's not a date after it's done."

"'In love'?! Wh-what? Marinette, I'm… I'm sorry that it happened this way but… I don't understand. I'm with Kagami!"

The Couffaine Chaos energy nearly overtook Luka and he realized he had drawn back Marinette's arm and fist in preparation for decking the ignorant blond. But… this wasn't going to help. Luka lowered her arm and started breathing to calm himself down, realizing a little after the fact that Marinette was yelling at him over the earpiece. "Okay. Fine. If you wanna play it this way, Adrien, fine. I have to tell you, though. I hope you treat Kagami better than this." Luka got Marinette's jacket back from Adrien and threw her evening bag over his… her shoulder. "I'm out. I'll make my way back home."

"Marinette, I'm really sorry!" Adrien yelled after her, trying to grab her arm.

Luka spun back around, batting Adrien's reaching arm away and said "Shut it if you know what's good for you, Agreste. Don't touch me."

∴

Marinette slumped down in her chair outside the theater. Well, that could have gone worse, maybe? she thought at herself. She shook her head and jumped up, running after Luka, who was more or less stomping away in her body. If she'd been able to see clearly she might have commented to herself that basically everyone in Luka's path dove out of the way of his murder walk. But she had… some problems seeing that had nothing to do with the nighttime or Luka's vision and more to do with the fact that she'd been crying.

Because she made Luka have to go through that.

Because she felt more relief than anything, after the fact.

Not because of the final nail in her Agreste Infatuation coffin sinking in and closing off forever her already long-dead feelings over Adrien.

"Luka!" She yelled at him. With his voice. "Luka, wait."

He spun and looked back at Marinette. At himself. He was… he was both angry and extremely worried. "Marinette, I am so sorry," he said to her. "I… I'm sorry. I messed this up for you. God I am so--"

Marinette started laughing. She wasn't sure what had come over her, but Luka was actually acting like she would have and it looked… comical. Because he did nothing wrong. She brushed the tears from Luka's face and sighed. "No, don't be sorry, Luka. You didn't mess anything up. I… I think we were set up!" Marinette laughed again. "God, I'm glad that's over," she breathed out.

"Are… you alright?" Luka asked, as still and as quiet as a mouse. He tightened his grip on her bag and she knew he'd been trying to hide his discomfort.

"I'm… I'll be fine," Marinette giggled, a spillover of the increasingly bizarre reaction of hers. "I'm just… I gotta take a few to um… process this," she continued giggling.

Luka continued holding her bag in a death grip. "Alright. I'm… we should head home."

"No, wait," Marinette said, reaching for… her own hand. "Wait." She gently unfurled Luka's grip and straightened out the fingers, massaging the hand again. "We should talk. Let's… let's get a drink. Like a smoothie or something, not like at a bar. I'm not sad, really."

Luka looked skeptical and Marinette had to laugh. The less exaggerated doubt on her own face was somehow more effective than the overly dramatic disbelief she usually had. "Sure," he said, still doubtful. "But… Juleka's probably at Rose's right now. Let's head back to my place and we'll talk there."

"Better yet," Marinette said, her giggling finally under control. "Let's go back to my place." She didn't have to worry about roommates, at least.

"Hey. I really am sorry about the whole thing," Luka said quietly.

Marinette smiled at him. "Luka, you're…" She pulled him into a hug. "You're wonderful, I hope you know that. You did exactly what I asked for. None of this is your fault." God she was so tiny in his arms. "Thank you. For everything."

"Right," he said slowly. "Okay. Let's go get some smoothies."

∴

End pt 1

#fxl fic #lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #happy birthday bloody-no-kissu #adrien agreste #minor adrigami #this is why I didn't have a six sentence sunday today lol #body swap au #juleka couffaine #had like one line I should have mentioned #lukanette #endgame lukanette

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hazbbyhaz · 3 years

Text

sleepless || harry styles

six

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: getting back into everyday life

disclaimer: slander of ones self, child abuse

I want to be with you, it is as simple and as complicated as that.

- charles bukowski

After finishing her tea, Avery told Harry that she was tired and made her exit. The way home had been cold and rainy, upon arriving back to her flat she realized that it wasn't much better. She walked into the kitchen in search of more tea. Coming up empty-handed, she decided to brew a pot of coffee. That would keep her awake, at least.

In the corner of her living room sat an old piano, she had bought it a couple of years prior at a flea market. The thing worn and very out of tune, but adorned with a wonderful message written in metallic silver sharpie. “Girls just wanna have fun.” she wandered over to it, taking a seat on the small bench, letting her fingers wander over the unfamiliar keys. She understood them just as much as she would a foreign language.

Her long, fragile fingers pressed down on the white stripes, the atrocious sound it makes sends a shiver down her spine. Closing the lid of the piano and setting her mug on top, she contemplated what else to do. The main goal was to stay awake, as it always was. Everything that she did from the moment she came home to the moment she went back to work was focused on just that. Anything she could do to take her mind off of that would happily suffice.

So, for the next half an hour she read a book, made another pot of coffee, sat down to compile a list for the grocery, started a bad french movie, drew several small doodles on her grocery list, and eventually made her way out to he balcony to see if her neighbor's cat was in sight.

At 1:30 am she went back inside due to the cold air. Once settled, she was greeted by a deafening silence. It isn't unfamiliar. All her nights went like this. She wasn't living her life, just waiting for the time to pass. Sometimes she would stand inside of her tiny bathroom, look into the mirror for a good while and take in her appearance. The bags under her eyes, the sunken face, and the slumped shoulders,

On rare occasions, she would fall asleep. This was almost always met with her waking up in a panic. Nonstop tears and shakes. Always alone. Always.

Tonight Avery was again standing in the bathroom. She thought about the party while she brushed her teeth. You were dumb. You were acting stupid and weird and everyone must have thought you were crazy. Everyone.

She opened her bedroom door, crawled underneath the sheets of her bed, and fell asleep with a racing heart.

“Mummy! I painted you something!” I exclaimed, running into the kitchen. The piece of paper in my wand-waving around like a flag. Mummy was standing there, her eyebrows knit together, and a stern expression on her face. That look alone made me stop in my tracks.

“What did I tell you, Avery? Huh?! What did I tell you!” She yells, looking down at me. I lower my gaze, hiding my paining behind my back.

“Not to run in the house.'' I whisper apologetically, looking anywhere but her. Mommy's hand connects with my cheek and I fall backward, the painting falling to the floor. Tears fill my eyes as she slaps me for a second time. “I’m sorry, Mommy… I didn't mean to make you mad”

She kneels in front of me, making sure that we are on a small level. I think that she might even want to hug me. Say that she is sorry and that she didn't mean to hit me, and ask if I am okay. As I step forward with outstretched arms she grabs my hair, pulling me closer. “You know what you are? An ungrateful brat. And that's all you will ever be.”

Avery shakes the whipped cream container for the second time, the disapproving gaze of the customer in front of her beyond prominent. At last, a bit of whipped cream topped the caramel frappuccino with cinnamon, almond milk, and sprinkles.

“That will make 3 pounds, please.”

The girl placed 3 pounds on the counter, took her coffee, and left without saying another word. She joined her boyfriend who was waiting patiently outside for her. As soon as the door closes, Avery lifts the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Tom! I think we're out of whipped cream!”

An annoyed grunt is the only answer she receives before Tom makes his way to the front of the shop. “Again? Maybe we should stop selling those damn frappuccinos.”

“Any new job offers?’” Avery asks, wiping her hands on one of the nearby dish towels. A look at the clock reminded her that her break would start in just a couple of minutes.

‘Not really,” Top sights, leaning against the counter, his gaze fixed on the big window, overlooking the street. “Maybe I should make the salary a bit higher, but I don't have that kind of money. It's hard enough for me to even pay you, but we really could use the extra help around here. I'm telling you, the very next person who puts in an application will get the job. You will get a bit of a break around here too. Do you think you could run out and get some more whipped cream? The next delivery doesn't come till Friday.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out five pounds.

“Sure,” Avery is already on her way out of the shop. “I got it covered.” Tom gives her a thankful smile, putting the money back into his pocket.

“You're a real one, Avery.”

Avery was never very fond of receiving compliments. They always made her feel very uncomfortable and she never knew how to react to them. Genuine smiles or a grateful glance meant a lot more to her. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy. Words were too easy. Everyone could say something without meaning it.

She scurried across the street to the nearest Tesco to get three more containers of whipped cream. After paying and a highly uncomfortable small talk with the cashier, she made her way to her favorite bagel place. While making her way there, she decided that four things made her life bearable. Tea, the neighbor’s cat, genuine smiles, and bagels. There wasn't much more to it.

She went with her usual bagel order accompanied by a black tea, finding a nice spot towards the back of the shop to sit, the three containers of whipped cream sat close beside her. Her eyes ran over the pages of the book she had brought with her, but she just couldn't seem to concentrate. Her eyes simply just float past each word, not truly reading. The nightmare from last night was still at the forefront of her mind, weighing her down today. She regretted going to bed at all. It always bought this with it. You couldn't have one without the other.

“What's got you looking so miserable?” A voice suddenly asked. Avery jumped back, nearly losing her grip on the book. Harry stood looking down at her. His silhouette blocked the sunlight flowing in from a nearby window, so she couldn't quite make out his features. “I’m sorry, I didn't want to scare you.”

“It's okay,” She breathed out. “Hi, Harry.”

He smiled at her before placing the coffee in his hands, of which she hadn't noticed before, down on the table, taking a seat across from her. “You look tired.”

She always looked tired. He must have noticed. Everyone noticed. “You're very charming, you know that?”

“I get that quite a lot.” They sat in silence for a while, Harry sipping his coffee, occasionally settling his gaze on Avery. She completely gave up on trying to read her book and focused her attention on her bagel and tea. The afternoon sun lit up the shop, every table in front of them being illuminated in a warm glow.

Avery enjoyed the silence and Harry didn't seem to mind it either. She still didn't understand the stranger she had met and kept on meeting, but it was nice. It was different having a person around, like having a friend. “Do you wanna go out tonight?”

“What?”

“My friends and I are going out tonight and I thought you might want to accompany us,” Harry explained, his eyes not leaving her. He was worried. About what? She had no clue, but he wasn't very good at hiding it. Not at all.

“Wouldn't that make me even more tired?” Avery questioned, referring to his statement from earlier.

“I'll give you some energy.”

“How does that even work?”

“You will have to come to find out.” He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Avery agreed to go out with him and his friends, also agreeing to meet him at her flat. Avery left first, leaving Harry to sit a bit longer at the table. As she walked away, the warm glow of the sun hitting her face in the perfect way, Harry wasn't sure he had ever met someone more lonely.

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 19 - sleep deprivation

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.” In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.” In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember. His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day. No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again. He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie. Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend. “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him. The wizard sighed. “I’m sorry, Archie. I just don’t want to talk, that's all.” He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise. He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal. The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random. He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana.

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either. He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you. I want no part of a world without you in it. And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look. “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It was my fight. And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled. “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.” A terrible, eternal beat of silence. Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all. It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.” With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance. Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take. Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left. His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep. Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one. He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots. They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice. He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff. “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man. You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home. Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie. Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal. “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone. Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted. “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?” He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door. He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home. Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head. Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar. After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness. A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm. He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet. He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim. The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two. “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion. Shouldn’t she know what happened? She had been there, for parts of it, at least. She’d heard about the rest. He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord. This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin. Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!” He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him. Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep. He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it. Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand. Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said. “And you look sick. You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself. At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly. “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her. “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all. Then I’ll sleep.” It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep. He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters. And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone. He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern. He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief. “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on? How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak. He’d lived 701 years. He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections. Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal. The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone. That wasn’t true. Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really. The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention. If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked. “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all. But, honestly, it was my friends. But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head. “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly. “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely. He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him. Dream-Merlin had been right. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t you see? It’s my fault Merlin’s dead. I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face. For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him. He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had. Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter. He’d not been in control of his own mind. Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t you. But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend. Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience. “It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could to save Merlin. You took a sword in the gut for him.” Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in. “You’re a hero. You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.” He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him. “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion. You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation. Magic reacts to your emotions. And Jim’s right. What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added. “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off. He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside. He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave? Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice? It was like what I did didn’t matter. I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend. Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes. That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life. Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it. Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie. “This was not your fault. And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted. “But then he didn’t. Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up. Something raw lingered in his eyes. “It’s the lies you are telling yourself. I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before. “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands. Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me. For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies. Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know. And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.” He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.

“I miss him too.” Archie repeated his words from a few days ago. “And I am here for you, Douxie.” He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened. No one does. The Merlin in your dreams is not real. He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth. The real Merlin told you. Jim and Claire told you. And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre. And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do. No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest. “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple. A giant bruise. He chuckled, a bit madly.

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time. “I think you really need to lie down now. You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down. Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim. “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again. Remember that we’re here for you. None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart. “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer. He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head. “Let him sleep. He needs it.”

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize. Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Seven

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, violence, abuse

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"Vivian, c'mon." Fred pleads, as I grip the headboard of the hotel bed as he tugs at my ankles.

"I'm not talking to that freaking reporter." I protest.

"Vivian."

"Rolling Stone can suck my clit." I argue back, trying to maintain my grip.

"Vivian, you are acting like a crazy person."

"I'm pretty sane compared to the other motherfuckers." I wince, my joint in my ankle popping.

"It's not gonna be that bad, Viv--"

"--He's gonna ask about Vanity."

"So, let him, you and Nikki already know how to handle the Vanity questions." He insists. "We spent an hour going over it yesterday."

"Fred, I can't."

"Viv, babe, c'mon, now. Please." He begs again. "For me, please."

I think about it for a moment, before letting go of the head board, gaining a relieved sigh from him.

"Thank you." He tells me as I pull my heels on and smooth my hair over.

The nightmare of that freaking Rolling Stone journalist following us around for days, picking and prodding, was everything everybody thought it would be. Possibly the deepest question he asked, about the actual craft of Mötley Crüe's talent, was, "so how is the amount of chicks you guys fuck incorporated into the songs?"

As if they would even answer that honestly being that three of them were married and one of the three had a toddler at home with his wife.

And I was particularly annoyed because me and Nikki had to act like the most in love people in the world to debunk the Vanity bullshit.

I hold my breath the second the question leaves his lips, but nobody can trip up on the inevitable topic that we knew would come up at some point.

Nikki's clearing his throat to cover the pause after "so, obviously there's buzz going on about the bombshell Vanity dropped on the Arsenio Hall Show" leaves Cal, our reporter's, lips.

"That whole thing was just...bullshit." Nikki tells him, laughing it off, looking at me.

I laugh along, too, although we both know it's the farthest thing from funny.

"I heard it was a 'misunderstanding' or something like that." Cal adds.

"It's not really hard to have misunderstandings with her, honestly." Nikki admits, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"So, there was never an engagement?"

"I think she's let Hollywood get straight to her head." Nikki tells him. "I'm not trying to be an ass but that really put us," he motions between himself and I, "in a really fucked position for a couple days because obviously you hear one of your girlfriends say, you know, 'hey, I'm engaged to so-n-so', and you're married to 'so-n-so', and then have that added stigma about guys like your husband not being able to commit because all the girls around and everything…" He trails off. "And, look, I'm not upset that Vivian was thinking there could've been some truth to it, ya know? But even after Viv realized it was all shit, it was all out there and people were--and still probably are--thinking that it's true. So the media is constantly, wherever we go, asking about my 'alleged' engagement and if we're still even married or got divorced a while ago and so on. And I could give a fuck about public scrutiny, myself, because I knew what I was signing up for when I started a band. I took everything into consideration, but she didn't sign up for people calling her 'stupid' and looking at her to do something, when Vanity--who has no idea what the fuck she's saying or how heavy the allegations she's throwing around are--convinces people that she's engaged to me." Nikki goes on.

"So, Vanity was lying?"

"Vanity was lying." Nikki shrugs.

"You opened up a little bit earlier about your past struggles with heroin--you didn't accidentally propose to her when--"

"Write this down word for word, and put it as the fucking cover quote if you want to: I, Nikki Sixx, would have to be on a high dose of pure horse tranquilizer in order to be so fucked that I'd willingly propose, or agree to get married, to Vanity." Nikki says matter-of-fact. "And that's married or single."

I felt horrible. I wasn't happy with Vanity, I was livid with her...but I knew what it felt like to feel crazy as a result of Nikki switching the story. The drugs were already taunting her sanity, and we just fucking added to it by saying something--that so obviously happened--never happened.

We were both so full of shit.

I let out a breath as I we get off the bus when we reach the venue, needing to get away from Cal and Nikki's lies for a couple minutes.

I catch up to Mick and Emi, who're having a conversation, Emi's girlish giggling has me raising a brow, and I feel someone tap on my shoulder.

Tansy.

"Fuck off." I snap at her and she looks like she's going to cry.

"Vi--"

"--You knew she was fucking him, and then protected them by keeping it from me. Fuck. Off." I clench through my teeth.

This is enough to get her off my back as we head inside, as Emi let's out more laughter.

Mick and Emi--who had a husband of 6 months back home--were growing closer and closer, oddly enough. I kind of knew something was up, but of course I never told anyone. I knew Nikki would give them hell for it, especially Mick, since he specifically told him, Tommy and Vince when they hired Donna and Emi, not to sleep with them/have a relationship with any of them because, "you don't shit in your own yard."

So I kept my mouth shut, but Nikki and the guys eventually caught on to what was happening, anyway, and he and Tommy set loose a wrath on them any chance they felt like it.

I keep my expression neutral as the guys make their way by to go on once Doc tells them it's time.

I avert my gaze from Nikki when he walks by, being that Cal isn't even paying attention.

But Nikki ensures the upkeep of our facade--his hand grasping my jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention, as he presses a solid, passionate, knee-weakening kiss on my lips.

When he's pulling away, he looks like he wasn't quite expecting it to be that good, but he's brushing it off in no time, giving me a smirk and a wink before grabbing his bass from his tech and getting where he needs to be for set, leaving me stunned in my spot.

Once I snap out of my little trance, I’m going to the bathroom to fix my smudged lipstick.

I let out a heavy breath as I look at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. “He cheated on you.” I tell myself. “He lied, he slept with one of your friends, and he cheated on you.” I repeat, trying to hammer my level head back into place as opposed to letting it run wild with fantasies over stupid little kiss...which is easier said than done.

As I’m stepping out of the bathroom, I’m running smack-dab into Sparkie, and I roll my eyes at his mere presence.

“Sorry.” I mumble, stepping by him, only to hear him walking behind me.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” He starts and I exhale deeply, ignoring him, until he’s grabbing at my wrist, stopping me. “...I was gonna offer you a belated anniversary present but I guess you aren’t interested.” He states, dead, sunken in eyes cutting at me.

“I’m not interested. Fuck off.” I hiss.

“You weren’t whistling that note last night.” He echoes and I snap around, shushing him so the people around us won’t hear what else he’s about to say. He just gets this smug smile on his face.

“Oh, right, I forgot people would flip their shit if they knew Saint Vivian was interested in scoring.” He slyly smiles, his decaying teeth making me grimace. How the hell does Tansy kiss him?

“I wasn’t interested in scoring--”

“--Why the hell else would you show up to my room at three in the morning, Viv?” He cuts me short, and I let out a breath. “Unless you wanted to fuck or something…”

“You really are on drugs, huh?” I sarcastically shoot back in reference to him being so insane to think I would actually want to sleep with him.

“I’ve seen pictures of some cute little tricks you can do.” He says again, his fingers grazing at my cheek.

“Want me to go tell Nikki that?” I ask him--knowing I honestly should because Nikki would probably kill him if Tommy, Vince, or Fred, didn’t beat him to it--and he smiles.

“Sure, why not. It’ll be the perfect conversation starter as to why his precious, purely clean wife was in my hotel room after everybody was passed out.” He whispers, his atrocious breath is purely smoke and alcohol, before he’s rubbing his hand down my stomach, nearly getting between my legs before I force him away from me, controlling my urge to hit him as I turn and walk away.

There was no way to explain why I went to Sparkie in the middle of the night, without it sounding like I was up to no good--not just because Sparkie is the physical embodiment of “no good”, but because I actually was up to no good.

I wipe more of my tears, dotting cold water from the bathroom sink under my eyes to try to calm the puffiness before grabbing some toilet paper and blowing my nose.

I can’t fucking sleep, once again.

I dig in my toiletry bag to see if I packed any benadryl to help me sleep...but all I see is my bottle of Nardil.

I roll my jaw and feel frustration fill me before I’m unscrewing the cap and throw the bottle at the mirror, the pills strewing all over the bathroom counter. My hand is swiping against the cold counter, knocking a majority of the pills into the toilet before I’m flushing them.

They’re just a fucking waste of money. I’m realizing now they quit working a while ago, I was just so bombarded with loving Nikki in our perfect little bubble, but now it’s been popped, and I’m crashing down from my codependent high--that was disguised as genuine happiness and the lie that my antidepressant was working--is now gone.

A deep breath leaves my lips and I wipe my tears, again, deciding to just get something to put me to sleep.

One fucking ambien or quaalude won’t kill me.

The last place I want to be is pacing in front of Sparkie and Tansy’s room door but here the hell I am.

I knock on the door, quietly, hoping he isn’t completely smacked out or he won’t come answer.

When the door swings open, he’s in tattered underwear, his bloodshot eyes looking at me, confused.

The bitter smell of burning heroin and coke flows past him into the hallway, cutting at my nose, and I grimace.

“I can’t sleep.” I tell him, quietly.

“And?”

“I need something to help me sleep.” I explain.

My skin crawls when his eyes snake up my bare legs, his tongue running on the inside of his lips.

“I might have something for you.” He grins. “What’re you willing to give for it, though?”

I’m repulsed by him, but I don’t show my disgust.

“Nikki’s got plenty of money.” I state. “I can pay you back later.” He thinks a moment, before smirking.

“The satisfaction of giving you your first ‘big girl’ drug is enough.” He says, stepping aside, and I cross my arms and step into the room, seeing Tansy knocked out cold on the bed, her naked body looking like a skeleton.

He’s plopping his suitcase on the bed, opening it, and I feel a sick feeling in my stomach at the sight of insane amounts--in bulk--in coke, heroin--at least two different kinds, judging by what I've seen Nikki with the past few years--and a copious amount of pills.

I'm eyeing the pills, but when he reaches for a lump of tar, and looks at me deviously, I have to hold back vomit.

"If you want to hold up the Sixx reputation, I highly recommend this." He says as if it's a fucking joke my husband is strung out.

My eyes dart from the heroin, to the needles in a ziplock stored in the zipper compartment of the luggage.

"I just need a pill to help me sleep." I tell him and he holds back laughter before holding his hand up as if telling me to hold on for a second as he goes to Tansy's purse.

I hear him open a bottle and the rustling of pills, before he's bringing me back a pill and handing it to me.

Seeing it in the light, I realize it's a tylenol.

"Come back when you're actually fun enough to maybe keep Nikki's eyes from straying." He mocks me and I roll my jaw before throwing the pill across the room and storming out.

I didn't get any sleep that night.

I shake away at the memory, a single, stray tear rolling down my cheek before I'm quickly swiping it away as "Dancing on Glass" booms from the stage.

I was so fucking sad. I wish there was a way to describe it that didn't sound so mundane...but that's what it was. Just fucking sadness being suppressed constantly with makeup and a decent smile, knowing I wasn't good enough. I felt like I was living with my mom all over again.

After the show's over, we head back to the hotel with Cal in tow, shooting off questions left and right that have nothing to do with the show itself.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." Nikki mumbles, standing up and I know he's just going to get away from Cal, and decide I'd rather be trapped in a small bathroom with Nikki, than hear another question along the lines of "so what drug is your favorite?"

As Nikki's shutting the door, I'm getting my foot in, stopping him and he looks at me confused, before reluctantly letting me in.

We wait in awkward silence before I'm pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Don't kiss me like that again." I tell him, sternly but politely, looking up at him and he pretends to be infatuated with the sink's water knobs. "Nikki."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Oh, right. We hate each other, how stupid of me to forget that." He hisses.

"I don't hate you." I quietly say, and he lets out a breath.

"Not yet, at least." He scoffs.

"Nikki, you fucked up, that doesn't mean I hate you."

"But you're still filing for divorce the second Doc gives you the greenlight, right?" I don't say anything. "That's what I thought."

He slips past me and leaves me to myself, causing me to close my eyes for a moment, and glance in the mirror before joining everybody else.

He was right. I didn't hate him, yet.

The next day the guys are due to take the cover photo for their Rollingstone issue with Cal continuing to breathe down everybody's necks.

"Are you not worried about stomach ulcers?" Cal asks me as I take a sip of Pepsi as we wait for the guys to get dressed for the shoot, and I raise my brows at him. "You have at least three of those a day and it's unhealthy, isn't it?" He adds, trying to sugarcoat it with laughter.

"I drink more water than I do soda...would you rather me be snorting rails of coke or smoking crack or shooting heroin?" I bite and his face falls. "If I want to drink three Pepsi's a day--if I wanna drink 300 Pepsi's a day--I will." Apparently I'm raising my voice, because Doc and Fred are turning their heads in my direction and I can see them slowly making their way to me.

"Umm…" Cal says nervously as I show no sign of easing up on him.

"I've earned the right to drink as much fucking Pepsi I want, Cal, sorry it's not as aesthetically pleasing as Jack or vodka, or chain smoking Marlboros, or isn't as romantically tragedized as junk--"

"--Vivian." Doc starts as I continue.

"But I like it, it's not the worst thing I could possibly drink on a daily basis, and if I want to fucking drink it, I will!"

He looks like a scared weasel, backed into a corner, his eyes wide as he leans away from me slightly.

I didn't realize how close to him I am right now, I'm practically in his face, bitching him out over a fucking Pepsi.

"Vivian!" Doc's barking at me.

I'm backing off, with the help of Fred pulling me away from him.

I'm surprised Cal isn't pissing his pants currently, the look on his face says he's heavily considering it.

"Get him the fuck out of here." I tell Doc, motioning to Cal.

"Vivia--"

"--No, who the fuck does he think he is?" I argue with Fred when he tries to calm me down.

"What's going on?" Nikki and Tommy ask, coming over here.

"Nothing's going on, alright? Vivian's just--"

"--Vivian's just what?" I snap at Doc.

"I'm so sorry, she gets neurotic." Doc ignores me as he tries to reassure Cal and I'm slinging my soda out of the bottle, onto him and Cal, as I yell, "oh, I'm fucking neurotic?!"

"Viv!" Doc scolds me as I throw the bottle down and it breaks.

"Viv," Tommy starts and I snap around to him.

"Fucking say it, Tommy. I dare you." I grit out, the look in my eyes telling him, "say anything else, and I'll tell everything about Vanity and Nikki."

"It was a misunderstanding, alright?" I hear Cal explain to Doc.

"No, no." Fred sighs as he's keeping me from hitting Cal, pulling me away as Cal flinches to get as far from me as possible, looking at me like I'm crazy.

"Don't leave this out of your fucking article! It might just save the entire damn thing since your fucking journalism sucks more ball-pubes than your wife while you've been out here with your nose up our fucking asses!" I throw at him, and Doc closes his eyes and gives out a deep, disappointed sigh, while Fred's tugging me to the bathroom with Nikki on his heels.

The second the door is closed, Nikki's snatching me away from Fred, his hand wrapping around my throat--not enough to hurt, but enough to catch my attention--and he pushes me against the wall roughly, seering down at me.

"The fuck is your problem?!" He demands.

"Hey, cut it out!" Fred cuts in, separating us, glaring at Nikki. "Don't fucking grab at her like that, I don't care how fucking pissed you are, Sixx, you got it?" He points at him. "And you," he looks at me now, "I don't know what the fucking hell you are tripping on, or if you're on the rag, or what the hell kind of demon possessed you recently but you're being fucking ridiculous." He snaps at me.

My eyes are honing in on the rosary around Nikki's neck and I cut my eyes.

"Is that one of mine?" I ask him and he looks down at it.

"Maybe."

"For someone who hates God you really don't mind representing him."

"It's called a mockery, Vivian, get over yourself."

"Give it back." I hold my hand out.

"Fuck off." He replies, going for the bathroom door.

"I said, 'give it back!'" I scream.

"And I said, 'fuck off!'" He yells back.

"It's a fucking string of beads with a fucking cross on it!" Fred outbursts louder than either of us and we look at him. "You have like four, Viv, what the fuck does it matter? He's always worn them." He points out next and I huff out a breath.

I didn't mind when Nikki wore rosaries or crucifixes, I knew he was kind of mocking when he wore them, for the irony of a "devil worshiper" wearing one, but even when we got bad off I didn't mind...in fact as he got worse with his addiction, I hoped the spirituality that they represented would rub off on him and snap him out of his addiction.

It was stupid and I know better now, but Charlette Kinston was my mother. I did have a small speck of her in me, even when I tried not to.

Later that night--more like the middle of the night--I'm still unable to sleep and end up tossing and turning for hours before getting a bath, hoping the warm water will relax me and calm my racing mind.

Once I get out and get back into bed, I furrow my brows at the sound of something weird in my room, and I quickly realize what it is.

The unsettling sound of the door knob twisting and turning throughout the dark hotel room, catches my attention and makes my spine prickle.

I eye the walkie-talkie on my nightstand, and reach my hand out, turning it on. “2.” I say lowly.

“What, 6 and a half?” Fred’s exhausted voice replies.

“20.” I say, which is code for "where are you?"

“101." He grumbles back, "101" meaning the hotel. "In bed. Like you should be.” He says.

“There’s someone at my door.” I reply.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know what’s why I’m calling you.”

“You want me to get outta bed just to come see who’s at your door, when you haven’t even checked?”

“...Good point.”

“Just look and see, and then let me know if I need to come, alright?”

“Got it.”

I get out of bed, hearing the door knob still rustling, and I tiptoe to the door, peeping out the peephole, to see Nikki, drunkenly fumbling with his room key, trying to put it in my door.

“It’s nobody, they’re gone. Goodnight.” I say to Fred.

“G’night, Vivian. Get some fucking sleep, you need it.” He adds and I roll my eyes.

“I would if I could.” I mumble, swinging the door open to face Nikki. He doesn’t say anything to me before stepping in, his bottle of wine sloshing onto the carpet.

“This key doesn’t fucking work.” He says, tossing it across the room.

“Because it’s my room, not yours. Your key works for your room only...across the hall...where you should be.” I cross my arms as he takes another swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when some of it trails down his chin.

“Are you strung out?” I blurt, wanting to know whether I should be ready to fight with Sikki or not.

“No, and I haven’t fucking shot up in a long time.” He points his finger in my face. “Just been chasing the Dragon.”

“I can tell.” I state.

“I’m not high, smartass. I came down an hour ago.” He sits the wine down on my nightstand and I raise my brows.

There’s a silent pause and I wait awkwardly for him to explain why he’s here, but as soon as I open my mouth to ask him, he’s saying, “you wanna go swimming?” I furrow my brows, confused.

“W-What?” I ask.

“You wanna go swimming?” He repeats, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like hangout or something.”

“Nikki, we’re separated. We don’t ‘hangout or something’ anymore.”

“No, but I’m not thinking straight due to the wine and heroin smoke, and you’re not thinking clearly because you can’t fucking sleep, so let’s just not think straight together--bonding experience--and pretend we’re at least friends.” He vouches, and I raise my brows, thinking about it.

“The pool’s closed. It’s nearly 4:00am.” I tell him and he scoffs.

“We’re Sixxes, Viv, we can do whatever the hell we want.” He says it as if it’s common sense. “And it’d be nice to practice being around each other without screaming each other’s heads off.”

I give it one last thought, before letting out a sigh.

“Fine.” I relent.

I was worried his sick plan was to drown me, and finally kill me, but soon after we put swimsuits on, and broke into the pool’s patio, I realized he was genuine about just wanting to “hangout or something” and it made me feel a little better that he missed me as much as I was missing him, even if he played it off smoother than I did at times.

“Is it cold?” I ask him as he wades through the shallow end seamlessly.

“No.” He tells me.

“Are you sure?” I question and he looks at me as I dip my toe in. “Nikki, it’s cold.” “Quit being a pussy and get in the water.” He says. “It’s not that bad, Viv.”

I dip my foot in, up to my ankle, and wrinkle my nose.

“Vivian Estine Sixx, get in the water.” He tries to hold back a laugh, keeping his stern facade.

“It’s not cold to you because you have more body heat.” I cross my arms.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m saying you’re thicker than me.” I correct him.

“You can always take your bikini off to get used to the water quicker.” He says and I raise my brows.

“That makes no sense.” I argue.

“No, but it’d sure make me happy.” He grins and I splash him with water.

I quickly regret it as he’s getting out of the pool, about to come after me.

“Nikki, stop!” I whisper yell and he catches up and wraps his arms around me before hurling the both of us into the deep end.

My body is shocked with the cold water, and the second I get my head above water, I’m gasping and shivering.

The second his head pops up beside me, I’m hitting at him.

“Jackass!” I scold him, and he laughs, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “It’s not funny.” I snap, swimming to the shallow and he follows me, still laughing.

“It’s so fun to piss you off.” He chuckles, running his hand over his face to get the drops of water from his eyelashes and I raise my hand to smack at him again but he raises his brows at me. “Fuck it off, Sixx.” He stops me before I even start.

“You started it, Sixx.” I reply, mimicking his voice.

“What's new…" He says with a small smirk, thinking about something before the corners of his mouth fall slowly. "...I've done a lot of shit." He starts and I look at him. "Shit I'm not proud of. I don't fucking know when to just do something a little bit. I can't have a bump, I've gotta go through an eight ball as fast as possible. I can't have a drink, I gotta drink the place dry. I can't have a serious girlfriend, I've gotta marry her." He says, and I glance at him and he shakes his head. "I can't just have a one-night stand, I gotta have a fucking affair." He finishes and I lick my lips, keeping my tears back. "This might be fucked up, but I've realized I don't feel like I shouldn't have had anything with her." He says in reference to Vanity and I furrow my brows. "I just feel like we shouldn't have gotten married to begin with."

It hurts like a bitch, but I know it's the truth, because I feel the same way.

"Me too." I admit and he finally looks at me.

"I wouldn't change it, though. I wouldn't go back and change it." He clarifies and I smile softly, my tears unable to keep at bay.

"I wouldn't either." I assure him.

He stares at me for a moment, looking from my eyes to my lips, standing up straight, before leaning down.

It's a sweet, simple kiss, that only lasts a moment.

It took me back to our first kiss. It was odd, because when we first kissed we couldn't stand each other very much, like we couldn't at that moment in our marriage, either. I don't know if that nostalgic feeling crossed the wires in our brains to convince us to chase one last high together, but one thing led to another and got out of hand like it always tended to do with anything a Sixx did.

I grin in the mirror at him as he mercilessly pounds into me to the hilt with each thrust, my right knee hiked up on the bathroom counter, my left foot standing on tip-toes as his right hand is around my throat, his left hand holding at my waist.

My original intent was to get a shower and leave the kiss at the pool, like it was: just a kiss.

But when we came back to his room where I had left my room key when I went with him so he could get his swimsuit on, and now I'm bent over his sink, tears in my eyes from the pleasuring pressure building up in me, the feeling of my wetness running down my legs at Nikki's doing, is something I've missed.

"Do you really fuck yourself or did you tell me that to piss me off?" He asks me, his dark eyes staring at me, causing me to clench down tighter onto him.

"I really do." I reply as he holds himself against my cervix, causing me to grab at the counter as the delicious pain causes a high pitched groan to leave my throat.

"Do you pretend I'm fucking you?" He questions next, deliberately slowing his pace, the friction of his skin inside my slick pussy satiating the hunger I've been feeling the past several days.

"Yes." I whimper out, my eyes rolling back for a moment.

"Who do you imagine playing with your pretty," his left hand snakes between my legs, calloused, rough, fingers rubbing at my slick flesh, and I back back into him, biting my lip, humming, "perfect clit?" He asks me and I let out a ragged breath.

"You." I confess, my knuckles turning white with how tightly I'm gripping the side of the counter.

"Whose cock do you imagine stretching your tight, hot, wet pussy out?" He asks next, and I'm almost considering trying to get away from him because I don't think I can handle this much ecstasy at one time.

"You." I say again, his hand holding my throat harder in his grip, making my breathing a little shallower, but it only makes me more turned on, another wave of my juices coating his length as he starts picking his pace back up, making me cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming.

"Whose name do you scream out in your pillow when you come?" He asks finally, a couple more stray tears rolling down my cheeks as my body is overcome with my orgasm, his hand taking my hand from my mouth as I moan out, loudly, "Nikki", causing him to smile proudly at me in the mirror.

Within a couple more minutes he's finishing in me, and stumbling back a little, a dopey, satisfied smile on his face, while we both come down from our sexbuzz and catch our breath, before going another round.

Nikki's said before, "you know you're addicted when you start lying to yourself about how you're not addicted."

I couldn't agree more.

But the real kicker is waking up to your husband the next morning after having sex, and the both of you pretend like you're strangers, not exchanging a single word before you grab your shit and get the hell out of their as fast as possible before anyone else realizes what happened.

For the first time in his career, Nikki Sixx treated me like a groupie.

And you know what?

It was better that way, because it left no room for, "Oh, well, we had sex which means we made up so we're good now."

We woke up, didn't look each other in the eye, I got off the floor, put my swimsuit back on so I wouldn't be naked, grabbed my key, and left without a word or a second glance.

There was nothing more to say.

We'd said "goodbye" to our relationship, the same way we had said "hello" to it in 1981: with sex that meant nothing, but meant everything, all at once.

We're back in L.A. a couple days later, and apparently Karen got some help cleaning mine and Nikki's room up where I completely trashed it, because when we get in the house, all of our photos are back up, his awards are nice and neat on the wall, and our room looks untouched.

The only give away that something happened is the broken mirror on the ceilings, but he doesn't seem to pay them any mind.

I guess he knew I would inevitably break something.

I keep my lips sealed tightly together as I hear our bedroom door open, initiating Nikki to walk by with a slight, hungover, stumble, as he makes his way to the kitchen, not saying a word to me, not that I expect him to.

He's coming into the living room a moment later, my bag of gummy worms I bought yesterday, in hand, and I roll my jaw, not wanting to start a fight over fucking candy…

...But go big, or go the fuck home, right?

"Those are mine." I tell him, pretending to be reading the newspaper I was reading earlier, and he looks me directly in the eye, opening the bag, taking one out, and eating it.

"My money, my groceries." He states, chewing it, and I exhale.

"I'm gonna go take a walk." Karen comments, sighing as she gets up and walks to the back yard, knowing this is going to get ugly.

"You're right. It is your money." I tell him, not arguing the valid point. "And if you keep splurging on heroin, you won't have any of it left." I add and he death glares me.

"I'm not on fucking smack." He argues sternly.

"You only eat sweets when you're trying to cut back smack." I say and he looks away from me. "At least you're trying to cut it, though." I mumble.

The bag of candy is suddenly colliding with my leg as he throws it at my lap, spitefully, standing up.

"Nikki, you can hav--"

"--It's yours. You have it." He hisses, going back to our bedroom, slamming the door loud enough to sound almost like a gunshot, causing me to jump in my seat.

Nikki: 1, Viv: 1

I decide to shower later on, opting for the guest bathroom to avoid having to see Nikki by walking through our bedroom to get to our bathroom.

I'm only under the running water before I hear the locked door knob twist, before loud banging on the door.

"Vivian!" He screams on the other side.

"Yes, dear?!" I call back, annoyed.

"What the fuck happened to my fucking cars and bikes?!"

I raise my brows, actually forgetting what I did to his precious vehicles until now.

"Open the fucking door!" He demands and I roll my eyes.

"Don't you have better things to do?! Like cleaning the fermented wine--that's been rotting in the hot heat of our garage--from the interior of your cars?!"

I hear the door knob move some more, and I peek out the curtain to see the knob twist completely, the door opening, and I see the little key in his hand.

We both stare at each other for one good second before I'm screaming as he comes for me, but I'm ducking under his arm and trying not to trip and fall on my wet feet as I scurry out of the room.

"I'm gonna kill you, Sixx!" He threatens and I panic a little.

"What the hell is going on?!" Karen asks us, keeping Nikki back when she steps out of the kitchen to stop him from chasing after me any further.

"She completely vandalized my fucking cars and my bikes!" He points at me.

"I didn't touch the Jeep." I argue and he nearly shoves Karen out of the way but she holds her ground.

"I'm about to call Doc if you two don't calm down." She threatens.

"I'm calling the cops and having her ass locked up." Nikki states.

"Do it." I boldly snap.

"No, no, no one's calling the cops." She says, letting out a breath.

"Do you wanna go see what the fuck she did to my fucking stuff?!" He raises his voice at her, motioning in the direction of the garage.

"Have you stopped to think that's a result of what you've done to her?" Karen questions him and he rolls his jaw. "I know you're not used to having repercussions and consequences to your actions, but it's a simple theory called 'cause and effect'." She states and he cuts his eyes at her, probably thinking she's full of shit. "The 'scorned wife effect.' You cheat, she destroys your belongings." She finishes, giving him a quick, sarcastic smile, before stepping out of his way. "If I hear either one of you screaming, again, I'm calling Doc."

He pushes past me, and I go back to my shower.

When I get out, Nikki's nowhere to be seen and the Jeep is gone so I assume he got out of the house for a few minutes, and when I leave our room, going to the living room, I stop in my tracks.

I see her from the corner of my eye, in the foyer, staring at me, and I turn to fully look at her.

She looks like she's been on a binge the past few days, her brown eyes wild and body slightly jittery, her hands gripping tightly to the sneakers I let her borrow a few months ago.

All I could do was stare at her, just knowing Nikki was going to have to come home and clean up the mess that he made.

“Vanity.” I acknowledge her, but not for long before I’m walking into the kitchen, hearing an oncoming storm approach as thunder rattles in the distance.

I grab a Pepsi from the fridge, hearing her slowly creep into the kitchen with me, and my eyes slowly find the knife block only an arms length away from me on the kitchen counter.

Sober Vanity wouldn’t think of hurting a fly. Coked out, crazy, reckless Vanity on the other hand…

“Do you have anything to say to me?” She asks me, shakily.

“Was it good, at least?” I reply, leaning against the counter, staring at her. “When you fucked my husband...knowing he was married...was it good?”

Apparently I’m striking a chord, because she’s got angry tears coming to her eyes, her jaw clenching.

“For someone who’s all about Jesus--”

“--He came to me.” She states, shakily, and I keep my face neutral, although I feel my heart tighten in my chest. “During your time apart last year, he saw me in a Vanity 6 video, and within two hours, I was getting a call from my manager telling me Nikki Sixx wanted a date night.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better about it?” I ask, raising my brows. “‘He came to me, I didn’t go to him’? Because at the end of the day, he’s married, and you knew he was married, and instead of turning him away, you welcomed him with open arms.” I point out.

“Have you ever thought perhaps I’m your punishment for not appreciating him?” She asks me, a tear breaking past her lashes.

“Excuse me?”

“God punishes his children when they’re not obedient. You made a promise to God to be the best wife to Nikki you could be, and you broke that promise more than enough times.” She adds.

“So you’re saying God used you--having an affair with my husband--to punish me?” I ask her to clarify. She stays silent, looking at me with pure hatred, and I nod a little, calmly.

My glass bottle is hitting her square in the chest before I can even stop myself, a look of utter shock on her face as Pepsi splashes all over her, her hand holding at the inevitable severely bruised skin bound to form from where it made impact.

Technically, since she wanted to get biblical, I was supposed to stone her to death. Being I didn’t have any rocks, and God frowns upon such things, I opted for a one-time thing that still hurt her but not enough to kill her.

I guess Karen heard the Pepsi bottle shatter on the floor, because she's coming in, with a concerned look on her face...before her skin goes sheet white upon seeing Vanity.

"W-What's going on?" She asks me.

"Vanity was just leaving." I state, rolling my jaw and Vanity looks at me like she's ready to attack.

"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to him." She hisses.

I hear the front door open, and I smile at her.

"Now's your chance." I smugly say, stepping past her, my shoes crackling on the glass as I take my sneakers from her hands, going to our room to put them up, saying, "I suggest you go to your room to avoid getting caught in the crossfire", to Karen as I pass by her.

When I get in our room, that's when shit hits the fan.

"You'd have to be on horse tranquilizer before marrying me?!" I hear her scream. "Huh?! You break up with me over the phone and then act like I'm crazy and embarrass me?!"

"You are crazy!" Nikki screams back.

I hear her shriek, before the sound of skin violently smacking against skin, as Vanity barks out, "if you hate me, hit me! If you just fucking hate me so much!"

I run in to see her hitting at Nikki while he tries to keep his patience.

"Vanity!" I scold, trying to pull her off of him.

Her left hand is suddenly coming back in a fist, hitting me square in the eye.

This does it.

She's knocked to the floor, and her nose is bleeding, Nikki's fist is clenched and smattered with Vanity's blood, and his eyes have a look in them I haven't seen before.

Vanity's now screaming and crying, kicking and clawing at him as he tries to grab her wrist to pull her up, so he instead grabs her hair and drags her out of the house.

"Nikki!" I protest, catching up to him when he's already got her down our front steps.

He let's her go and glares at me, before he stomps back in, slamming the door, locking us both outside.

Vanity's crying, a stream of blood running down her face, my own nose spilling red, but I can't help but crouch beside her and wipe the blood from her face and angle her head back as she sobs.

"Just pinch your nose." I mumble, taking her hand, that's raw from slapping Nikki, and pinching it at her nose.

I had never seen Nikki that angry. He later described his altercation with Vanity, as "hitting her like a man."

I'm not sure if he actually hit her just because she attacked him, because I attacked him multiple times, and he never hit me--the most he did was push me, or grab my wrists or my throat, and even that wasn't enough to really hurt me, just enough to get my attention.

I think everything was put into that single episode.

Every time she made his life harder from the moment she stepped in to it, and even his own self-hate for letting things get the way they did between them, all the anger he had felt for himself and her were packed into that single punch.

And none of it should have ever fucking happened.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #Motley Crue #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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ghostxraven · 4 years

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you really are about to unlock smth bc a) i have SO many thoughts on the sequel trilogy and b) im DESPERATE for a distraction so um. i think about the prequel trilogy and i really truly start to lose it. bc force awakens was SO GOOD. like remember the first time you watched it and you (me, but maybe you as well) were like? HOLY SHIT. it was obviously a new hope v2 but it was FRESH and NEW and there were cool characters that i CARED about. (1/3)

HELL YEAH let’s get into it ok ok ok OPINIONS INCOMING.

TOTALLY with u on this. like the prequels make me mad about the wasted potential but tbh the sequel trilogy is just like. draining emotionally because they LOOK so fucking good. the force awakens WAS so so good, like very very star wars even if it was following the plot beats of anh. and then it just. tanked itself holy shit. like at least the prequels look bad, sound bad, it’s like a comical level of tragic. the sequel trilogy feels like having chalk dust spread all over my skin and then being put in an echo chamber of nails on a chalkboard 😔 at this point even tfa comes with a TINY lil bit of like 😞 just because i know what comes after but YES tfa is one of those star wars movies that just FEELS so fucking star wars it makes me unhinged. “THATS ONE HELL OF A PILOT” YEAH BITCH!!! IT IS!!!!! GAY PEOPLE!!!

the last jedi. a mess. i like certain rian johnson films but he should not be allowed to be anywhere near Star Wars. my main problem? (beyond the racism and romanticizing stalking and emotional and physical abuse?) it doesn’t FEEL like star wars. like. ok even in the darkest moments in mainstream star wars films they are SUPPOSED to feel hopeful. tlj feels like watching a train wreck in slow motion it’s just like shitty thing after shitty thing after shitty thing happening to the main cast. i think the casino planet’s design was a little lazy and WAY too underlit and rose’s character was pointless in the way she was shown in the movie. exhausting. the jokes were all on the wrong edge of disrespectful to the characters and the original star wars like luke tossing the lightsaber over his shoulder? appalling. not funny just there for shock value. everyone is out of character. everyone is stressed and miserable all the time. aside from things i didn’t really want to see but wouldn’t have argued with in a better movie (ie luke dying) it really was just a racist misogynistic mess. oh yeah did i mention how they did rey’s character dirty because she went from being a scrappy desert mechanic who’s a little dorky and just trying to find a family and a place in the galaxy to Bland White Girl Servicing a Man’s Character. that pales in comparison to how finn poe and rose’s characters were treated but HOLY shit. i walked out of the theater crying. tfa raised my expectations only to have tlj smash them down to the floor it was. hhhhh ok ok ok im trying to think if i liked anything from the movie. um. you were right it looked good! sound and score were great as usual. i did think poe’s conversation with hux at the beginning was funny. i really liked when leia used the force to come back to the ship (ik that was a controversial scene for some people but i did really like that scene. she deserves it). laura dern is cool i hated her character but in theory laura dern being leia’s lesbian boarding school friend is neat. but yeah im sorry i really REALLY didn’t like that movie we only saw it in theaters once it was so bad. :( i do agree with u abt the force mysticism being cool tho!

rise of skywalker. now maybe it’s because the bar was on the floor after tlj. but i actually liked it quite a bit. still kind of a mess. jj trying to retcon all of the stuff from the last movie because for some reason he wasn’t just allowed to do the whole trilogy. the pacing being a nightmare for the first half. the atrocious abuser-validating kiss at the end. but im gonna be real after having to sit through tlj i was happy enough just to see the main trio back together and finn and poe being treated with more respect to care much about that stuff. disney queerbaits me once again but that’s on me for clowning. i really genuinely liked the scene where rey passes the lightsaber to kylo i thought that was cool but it was overshadowed by the knowledge that the Kiss 🤮 was coming so i didn’t get to enjoy it like i wanted. ALSO hayden christiansen and all the other actors doing the voices in the scene where rey is fighting the emperor (who im pretty sure was only in there because RIAN put the trilogy’s intended big bad into a sparkly gold bathrobe and killed him off in the second movie but im not complaining about seeing ian mcdiarmid) were apparently on set in costume and force ghosts were supposed to protect her in like a big circle and what im saying is i feel robbed and cheated and feral

the only movie of the three i REALLY liked was tfa. now we’re back to How Would I Fix It. step one fire rian johnson. step two put JJ on the whole trilogy and HOLD HIM ACCOUNTABLE for having a plot planned out, or else get a different director TO DO ALL THREE MOVIES. none of this middle of the road “trying to appease both sides of the fandom” bullshit. kylo dies at the end and they DO NOT kiss and that is all the redemption he gets. if disney is claiming gay rep then they SHOW us ACTUAL gay representation. poe and finn kiss on screen and we don’t get a two second blurry background kiss between random characters. completely toss out whatever the fuck that plot was supposed to be in tlj and separate ros into two movies so JJ could actually DO the entire plot he had planned (instead of disney execs chopping down what was p much a four hour movie into two hours twenty two minutes which was SHORTER than the two hour forty minute cut jj reluctantly okayed but i DIGRESS).

god. what the fuck. anyways sorry for completely going off the rails but ty for sharing ur sequel trilogy opinions and ty for letting me rant sorry this got so long but ily!!! ❣️💕💝

#pi's personal #star wars #treasured mutuals #query on top #this sounds really angry. holy fuck #sorry!!! im not yelling at u. just pissed off in general #anyways finnpoe cannon king. homosexual legends i LOVE rewatching tfa and getting FLOORED by the gay tension #thank u Oscar Isaac and John Boyega for your heroic sacrifices gone but not forgotten 😔✊ /j #jordan tag ⚠️

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gretchensinister · 4 years

Text

Prospie

I was slammed with the compulsion to write an NDU story after rewatching Rise of the Guardians on Easter. In this one, Pitch and Pitchiner (and Proto, because he lives in their apartment) are seniors who host a prospective student. They think about what it means that they’re graduating and show that maybe, just maybe, they’ve grown and changed for good at college.

This continues my take that I started in Getting to Know You, which makes this not strictly a realistic college AU.

The prospective student makes this a crossover, but I want it to be a bit of a surprise. But honestly? Who are we thinking of these days when we think Nightmare + Dork? The incoming freshman class is going to be mighty interesting...

***

“Pitchiner!” Pitch storms in from the kitchen, waving a piece of paper at him. “What. Is. This?”

Pitchiner turns to him but doesn’t get up from his seat on the couch, giving him an exasperated look. “You really went deep in your bubble this time, didn’t you? I told you like, nine hundred times that we’re going to host a prospective honors program student on their, you know, interview and visit weekend.”

“Aren’t prospective honors program students only supposed to be hosted by other honors program students?” Pitch snipes.

At this, Pitchiner does stand up. He takes two long steps closer to Pitch until he’s looming over him, his massive arms folded in front of his chest. “Dear,” he says coldly. “I am in the honors program. I’ve been in the honors program the whole time. You think I’d put up with half the shit you say to me if I didn’t know it was bullshit?”

Pitch stammers, but some deep-seated survival instinct stops him from saying anything else coherent.

Pitchiner can’t help but smirk. “Did you really think I was here on a lacrosse scholarship? God! Mr. Black, of the Massachusetts Blacks, my school did not have a lacrosse team. My scholarships are all academic.”

Pitch looks like he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped over him. “But—but—you don’t work!”

Pitchiner steps back a little from Pitch and runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “I don’t work like you do. Because I don’t think it’s healthy.”

Pitch grimaces at him. “You’ve never…” He becomes very interested in a corner of the room. “You’ve never bragged about it.”

Now Pitchiner pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s because I’m not Piki, and Piki’s behavior towards you is fucked up, re: you guys’ accomplishments.”

Pitch has started to crumple the letter in one hand. Pitchiner watches him claim conscious control over one finger at a time until he’s holding the paper normally again, watches him tamp down whatever else might need to be said between them. “Regardless,” he says, focusing on Pitchiner again, “did the hosting committee even see our apartment before approving you as a host? Did they meet Proto? We cannot host an academically promising high school senior here. It’s unseemly.”

“I applied, and I’ll clean,” Pitchiner says. “The prospie doesn’t need to see whatever the fuck is going on in Proto’s room, or ours. He’ll sleep on the couch bed, and if I have to stay up all night to protect him from a taxidermy ferret surprise, I’ll do it.”

Pitch looks down at the unevenly faded blue couch. “I didn’t even know this was a sofa bed.” He sounds oddly distant and defeated, somehow. “I suppose you already have sheets for it.”

Pitchiner shrugs. “Nah, I was going to grab some from the superstore when I went for groceries later. You know I don’t exactly handle things like a general planning an invasion.”

“And yet you do still handle them.” Pitch still sounds weird, like if he was a flavor he’d be a warhead candy with the sour powder washed off. “But of course, you handled me having a seizure, for God’s sake, and I—I.” His fingers are twitching on the paper again.

Pitchiner places his hand on Pitch’s shoulder. “Let me know if you want to crack all this open some other time, all right? You barging in reminded me that I actually do have to start on cleaning, including fighting with Proto about whatever he’s trying to ferment on top of the fridge, because we both know he was lying when he said it was kombucha.” He lets go. “Or, hey, if you don’t want to ever crack it open, well, we’ve only got a couple more months before we graduate.”

He hadn’t really been thinking about what that meant before he said it, but now that he has said it, he and Pitch lock eyes, and Pitchiner thinks Pitch is feeling the same shock he is. Graduation. Leaving this apartment. No longer being forced into physical proximity with each other. If they wanted whatever they had with each other to continue, it couldn’t continue effortlessly or thoughtlessly. If they wanted whatever they had to continue, a lot of unspoken things would need to be said. Otherwise it wasn’t going to last longer than a futon frame propped against a dumpster on move-out day, something that had served them okay at NDU, but not something to bring away from it.

Pitchiner saw the tightness in Pitch’s jaw that usually meant he was thinking about Piki. He didn’t understand all the family baggage that Pitch and his twin carried, but he knew Piki thought of him as an unsuitable partner for Pitch, and a lot of what Pitch did he did in reaction to Piki. But now, even as he expects that tightness to lock Pitch’s jaw for good, it vanishes. “I do think we should talk,” he says. He smiles, and a little of the sour powder is back. “I really do. But maybe after the prospie is gone.”

“Yeah,” Pitchiner says. “For sure.” He grins. “Now are you gonna let me get on with being Mr. Clean or what?”

“The Brawny Man is much hotter,” Pitch fires back, but he still seems a little uneasy. “Pitchiner, our conversation for later is going to be…well, we will not be the first people to have such a conversation. But there are other things that we’ve never talked about. That, at the time, we agreed never to talk about, at least among those of us who were there. Because it wasn’t always all of us, but sometimes, enough times, it was. You know who I mean by us, don’t you?”

Pitchiner nods. “Me. You. Proto. Jack. Piki. You think we need to talk about…that stuff, too?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pitch says. “It’s always seemed, well, risky to me to speak about even the nightmares. But as we move closer to graduation, it feels to me as if…as if they’re, I mean, as if it’s retreating somehow. Ebbing.”

“We beat it,” Pitchiner says, though he almost said ‘them,’ like Pitch.

“No,” says Pitch, “not yet. Maybe not ever, for me. But I could believe it for you.” He says this last in a rush, as if embarrassed by the feeling hidden beneath that statement. “The point is, there’s something still there. About us. Around us. We know it. And other people can tell. It was my true first thought when I saw a prospective student would be staying with us.”

“Well…” Pitchiner doesn’t like to think about the things Pitch is alluding to, for a lot of different reasons, not least that he can’t be sure if he feels relief or loss at the idea that whatever it is (whatever they are) that focused on them might be leaving them soon. Because what is there to lose? Nightmares, a bunch of shit that has to have been (has to have been) sleep paralysis, too much other stuff that you probably couldn’t take a picture of or hit with a lacrosse stick, and…more than zero things that couldn’t be explained at all. And the sense that whatever tied all these things together, he, Pitchiner, was the perfect shape for it to fill, if he wanted it. And then instead of all these things happening to him, he would happen to other people. “I guess…if the vibes get bad, let’s just agree to not waste time denying that they’re there. But if they’re really going, I think there’s a good chance the prospie might not even notice. I mean, what, his name’s Jonathan. He’s probably like, aggressively normal, or at least only weird in a smart-kid way.”

Pitch nods slowly. “If he’s supposed to hang out with us in his downtime, though…let’s not invite Jack. Just to…reduce the number of reactive elements.”

“Oh, for sure.”

***

“My, what atrocious vibes that young man had,” Proto remarks as they wave Jon off to his car on Sunday afternoon. “But I do have the feeling that he got all his questions about NDU answered this weekend.”

Pitchiner and Pitch glance at each other. “Yes,” Pitch says. “I…think we can be confident about that.”

“He does make me wonder what it’s like to work in the Admissions Department,” Proto says, “but I don’t think I’ll apply. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go follow a lead for a new mold.”

“I haven’t invited you home because he’s really the best of my relatives,” Pitch says suddenly. “Not because I don’t care.”

“Everyone’s got relatives,” Pitchiner says vaguely. “Look, when we were just hanging out Saturday night, I kept wanting to bring up that time with the cave. And that story makes me look like I’ve lost my marbles or need an exorcism or something. I have never wanted to bring it up, ever. I don’t even want to allude to it now.”

“For me it was that time with my shadow,” Pitch says. “But what was weirder was how pissed off I felt about wanting to talk about it. And he didn’t even ask anything that could have remotely led to that topic of conversation.”

They lean on the railing of the steps outside their apartment and watch a few more prospective students head out, carrying orange and black folders and key chains and pens, all the promotional detritus of NDU. They look pretty normal. And why not? They are normal, right? The only slight oddity is a pair of twins, but when Pitchiner looks again he sees that the girls look nothing alike, and actually don’t even seem to know each other. He’s gotten too jumpy about doubles in his four years here. Just seeing things.

But then, he has seen a lot of things. And so has Pitch. And Proto. And Jack. And Piki.

“I was pissed, too,” Pitchiner says. “Not anymore, though. It left when he left. Along with the urge to spill my guts.”

“Do you think that we…” Pitch begins, and trails off.

“Not like that,” Pitchiner says. “Or…well, maybe.” He laughs once. “But not anymore, I think.”

“I wonder why. Are we no longer…I hate to frame it this way, but, worthy?”

Pitchiner gives him a funny look. “You want to be worthy of nightmares you don’t even want to talk about?”

“When you put it that way…but I think you know what I mean.”

Pitchiner looks across the street and over to the campus again. “I guess I do. I kinda wish I didn’t. But I gotta…I gotta be strong enough, smart enough, whatever, to recognize that it’s not good. If I want to be chosen by something weird and special, I think…I know I can do a lot better than a nightmare. You get what I’m saying?”

“I…I hope I do,” Pitch says, soft and surprised.

Pitchiner clears his throat. “Anyway, we don’t really know anything about any of that spooky shit. If it’s backing off, hell, maybe it’s just doing so ‘cause we’re graduating. Makes about as much sense as anything else.”

Pitch laughs briefly. “Good thing none of us is going into academia, then.” He pauses. “Jon said his goal was to go into archival work, didn’t he?”

Pitchiner nods.

“Hmm. You need a graduate degree for that.”

The spring breeze picks up for a moment, sending some autumn leaves that hadn’t been raked before it snowed scuttling down the street.

“I think I’m glad that we’re graduating this year,” Pitchiner says.

#nightmare dork university #NDU #nightmare galleon #30 days of nightmare dorks #is that the ongoing event? I just wrote this because I was seized by the idea

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dzamie-oc · 4 years

Text

Smaugust 13 - Lunar

Ember has a dream. It doesn't go well, so Luna steps in to help out and give the Dragon Lord something to think about. (1494 words)

Dragon Lord Ember was not having a good time. Quite the opposite, really. She had been invited to some pony friendship meeting by the pony Princesses, which was... tolerable. After all, Spike was usually near the purple one, and the others seemed to understand how soft they were compared to her. The blue one, especially. If she ever got pressured to make another friend, but this time a pony one, Ember was pretty sure she would go for the blue one. Sometimes, the Dragon Lord even thought the blue one must be part dragon, though of course that was ridiculous. But, suffice to say, the pony friendship meeting was the least of her problems.

Once she got there, they had informed her that the proper and official dress code for a pony friendship meeting was a big, fluffy dress, full of frills and lace and other things that caught on her claws, spines, and scales. The dragoness couldn't quite remember when or how she had put it on, but the important thing was that it was on her and that sucked. Absolutely miserable. She looked her best just after a lava bath, completely naked in her scales. No dragon went around with dresses or anything, unless it was made of gems to snack on later. Still, this friendship meeting was very important, so she had to deal with it.

But the worst part of it all was when they only served a single carrot. A half dozen visits to and from Spike had taught her that meat was a pipe dream, because ponies not only didn't eat meat, but they thought that somedragon else eating meat was like eating them. At the time, Ember had wondered if they ever thought that about daisies, since some of them were named Daisy, probably. But either way, Ember learned: ponies do not serve meat. What was truly atrocious, however, was that there wasn't a single gem to be found. Spike lived there! They should have known that gems were delicious, at least to dragons!

With a snort of smoke, Ember took the carrot. If nothing else, she could at least gnaw it into a more interesting shape. As she raised it up to her snout, though, the vegetable tumbled from her grip. Ember furrowed her brow and went to grab it, only to see that, instead of her beautiful, scaly hands, she now sported a pair of blue, furry hooves! In shock and terror, she fell back from her chair, watching as the rest of the pony friendship meeting smiled and laughed. They were all laughing. The purple one laughed. The blue one laughed. The white one laughed. The other one laughed. The dragons there, they laughed too, at seeing their Dragon Lord as a weak, soft pony, consigned to eating grass and frolicking and... braiding manes or whatever. She tried to command them as their ruler, but all that came out was a neigh, or maybe a whinny. Spike towered over her, now an adult dragon. "Ah, Ember," he rumbled, in his normal voice, way too high for a dragon his size, "you thought I was a pony in a dragon's body, but it looks like you're just a soft pony, yourself! Ha ha ha!" He opened his jaws and leaned in to pick up his dinner...

Suddenly, a blue blast of magic crashed into his head, sending him tumbling off of Canterlot mountain. Ember turned her head to see her savior; a dozen tails off, the blue princess stood strong, a wisp of smoke at the tip of her horn. She took flight, soaring over to the dragon-turned-pony, and offered Ember a hoof up. Ember took it, righting herself.

"You aren't laughing at me?" she asked the Princess.

"As far as nightmares go, this isn't even the funniest tonight," the dark blue pony said with a smile, "besides, laughing at their horror just makes ponies feel bad. And dragons, I would assume. Though, Ember, I am surprised to find your dream here. Are you visiting Equestria?"

Ember nodded. "Yeah, didn't you see that whole debacle the pony friendship meeting turned into? Or what it turned me into?"

The pony turned to look at the table. Around it were a quartet of stick ponies, roughly colored in, with signs hanging from their necks reading "the white one," "the purple one," "the blue one," and "another pony." She picked up "the blue one" in her magic, and in a flash of light, it read "Luna" instead. She shook her head. "I suppose this is one more thing my sister is springing on me, then. Thousands of years, and she still thinks it's fun to drop big diplomatic things on my head."

Ember looked up, above Luna's head. Luna blinked. "Metaphorically. Though there was that time with the folder of Seaquestria treaties..."

The dragoness shook her head. "Okay, wait, wait. There's two of you here, and you don't smell like a changeling, so that means..." She racked her brain to continue, but couldn't come up with anything. Maybe ponies reproduced by budding? That would explain why the purple one is smaller.

"That means you're dreaming, Princess Ember," Luna said. "As the Prin-"

"Dragon Lord Ember," Dragon Lord Ember corrected.

"Very well. You are dreaming, Dragon Lord Ember. It is my solemn duty to help ponies deal with their nightmares." The alicorn winked at her. "And, apparently, dragons."

"Okay, so what does all..." Ember gestured to the stick ponies, the table, the dragons frozen in time, "this mean?" She did a double-take, staring at her properly scaly hand. "Oh, good. Not a pony."

"Yes, not a pony," Luna agreed with a smile. "As for what it means, nightmares love to scare creatures. Are you scared of being a pony?"

The dragoness folded her arms, glaring at the presumptious princess. "I'm not scared of anything," she said, "if you ponies want to turn me into one of your non-confrontational, soft, fuzzy... ponies, you'll have to go through me, first!" She bristled, wings tensed as though Luna was going to charge her... then slumped forward. "Okay, a little. But not literally. The hooves would totally suck, though. I just don't want to lose what makes me a dragon just because of being 'friends' with ponies," Ember said with air quotes.

"So don't do that," Luna said simply. At Ember's critical stare, she continued, "if somepony isn't willing to accept that you're a dragon, they're not really trying to be friends with you, they're trying to be friends with who you could be if you were like them. You will become a little different, of course, but you won't lose yourself."

The Dragon Lord looked back at the pony friendship meeting table, and the carrot laying on it. "So, I can still be friends with Spike and not have to eat carrots," she concluded, "or braid manes or say things like 'let's fly to the castle.'"

Luna shook her head. "I am the sole reason there are moon pies at princess summits," she said with a smile, "you can absolutely stay out of all that 'pony stuff' if you really want to. We'll let you know what we can tolerate, and you can do the same."

"Huh. That's actually pretty good." Ember swished her tail back and forth, then looked up at Luna again. "No meat, though, right? I can't get a good steak?"

Luna laughed, shaking her head again. "No, not in Equestria. Twilight and Cadance would object, I think." She lit her horn, and a craggy, stone door inset with sapphires appeared in the air before her, which then swung open. "Now, I must help other creatures in need. However... before I go, is there anything you want me to mention to the castle chefs for the meeting? Opals, or quartzes?"

"Rubies," the dragoness answered quickly. "Amethysts if you can get 'em. Oh! And, Princess, uh... L- what is it... Luna? Princess Luna?"

"Rubies and amethysts, got it. Yes, Ember?" the princess said, head sticking out of the door.

"Thanks. You would be good to talk to more."

Luna smiled. "You too, Dragon Lord Ember. Have fun in your dream!" And with that, the door closed and vanished.

Ember watched it go, then walked up to the table again. The blue stick pony had been replaced by a much more real-looking Luna. "And just what does that mean?"

The dream Luna's mouth didn't move as it responded, instead quickkly jumping between having an open and closed mouth. "Dreams can do anything!"

The dragoness pondered this for a moment. The next moment, a twenty-pound, rare steak landed on the table. And then tiny diamonds peppered it. The Bloodstone Scepter appeared in her hands, and then a second one. Ember took a bite of the steak, not bothering to try to pick it up. It was delicious, and regrew immediately.

The Dragon Lord had an awful lot of fun in her dream.

#My Little Pony #princess luna #dragon #smaugust #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing #dragon lord ember #smaugust 2020 #text

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animebw · 4 years

Text

Binge-Watching: M3: The Dark Metal, Episodes 22-24

IT’S OVER

Nothing Left

I can’t fucking believe I caved.

“This show suddenly got not shit”? “Now that Natsuiri’s gone it’s finally sorting itself out”? I had no fucking excuse for being so optimistic. I should know better by now. After everything this show has put me through, every godforsaken, wrongheaded, agonizing decision it’s made from start to finish, how could I possibly fucking believe it was suddenly gonna even out? How could I possibly have any ounce of hope left that M3 wasn’t going to dick me over one last time? Am I really so fucking naive that I’d give this show the undeserved benefit of the doubt one last time despite every available piece of evidence screaming for me not to do so? I shouldn’t have buckled for a second. I should have braced myself for the worst and buckled down for one last vomit-inducing spiral down the whirlpool until my lungs finally burst and let me drown. But I gave in. I let myself hope. For just on single, pathetic moment, I thought that at the very least, M3′s ending would be okay.

What a goddamn idiot I was.

Of course this was gonna happen. Of course M3′s ending would plunge right back into the fetid, sexist bowels of this misbegotten disaster and belch out one last tsunami of black bile. Like this show’s misogyny was ever contained to the worst of its offenders. M3 was never broken because of Natsuiri or Heito or any one character. It was broken from the very depths of its core, fractured and misshapen and abominable in every single facet of its being. The bastards of the hour were merely the most obvious symptom; the infection itself was already incurable before the first episode was even over. And in these final episodes, M3 kicks its female cast in the teeth over and over again, one last pathetic burst of spite and spittle before the story mercifully collapses in an exhausted heap. Camera shots linger on Tsugumi’s exposed cleavage until you feel sick watching it. Yet more rape imagery accompanies Minashi violating Tsugumi’s mind. Tsugumi’s pathetic excuse for a villain motivation is once again made horrendously wretched, suggesting that a childhood crush gone wrong is more than enough reason for a girl to become jealous and spiteful enough to destroy the world. And just when you think this story couldn’t treat her any worse, she’s violently wrenched from her position as chief villain and replaced by an out-of-nowhere bad guy turn from Minashi. Because this story hates its female characters so fucking much that not even the main female antagonist is allowed agency over her own trauma without some guy stepping in and literally telling her to step aside and let him take over her role. Just like Mahmu’s potential moment of triumph in standing up to the corpse is robbed from her by thrashing her against the pavement and letting Akashi save her quivering, useless lump og a body once more. Just like Heito is somehow allowed to fucking survive and facilitate Akashi’s growth without any regard for almost driving Emiru to death, showing no signs of having learned his lesson (I literally threw the pencil I was holding when they brought him back). Because apparently, even ONE scene where the girls so more than scream and whimper as their bodies are violated and the guys do all the heavy lifting is too much to fucking ask.

*ahem*

GO. FUCKING. FUCK YOURSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK you, show! FUCK you! Fuck your shitty fucking characters! Fuck your toxic, misogynist attitudes towards everything! Fuck your stealing the “We need to connect all humanity” villain plot from Evangelion so shamelessly! Fuck you for still not explaining what the fuck was up with Mahmu’s storytelling somehow predicting the future! Fuck your being so fucking atrocious that I couldn’t even get excited for the giant carnivorous nightmare fortress! Fuck your sympathizing with rapists and abusers while battering every last female character against the wall until she breaks for fun! Fuck your miserable fucking cynicism! Fuck everything you stand for and everyone responsible for your creation! Fuck every last agonizing second I wasted on you! FUCK! THIS! FUCKING! SHOW!

FUCK YOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And good fucking bye.

Odds and Ends

-I should probably mention, if they were trying to build a strong bond between Mahmu and Emiru, they failed miserably. They had all of two antagonistic encounters before she got chewed up.

-”Why the hell didn’t I take Tsugumi with me back then?” WHY DIDN’T SHE GO WITH YOU??? WHAT WAS HER EXCUSE???

-”We’re going to rescue Minashi!” FUCKING WHY

-”Won’t hands do?” Sir, you are no Symphogear, kindly shut the fuck up.

It’s over. It’s actually over. Just one last series reflection, and we’re done. WE’RE ACTUALLY DONE.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #m3 #m3 the dark metal #m3: the dark metal #m3: mortal metal memories #m3: sono kuroi hagane

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little-dragon-stories · 4 years

Text

She's my destiny (1/2)

Countdown to Christmas pairing writer Jimin and female reader.

Featuring OT7 and NamJin as the loving fathers of a little boy.

Ok guys, here it is.

First of all, I want to say an immense, a huge, a big thank you to my lovely princess @aspaceformyself. She made that mood board for me. She named Kookie «baby Koo» and I stole that nick name from her (with her permission of course) and she is the one who asked me an AU with writer Jimin and baker reader. I transformed the idea into a countdown to Christmas.

Princess, you know how much I love you already. There is not a day that ended without me telling you how much I love you (and you too… you love me too :) )

Also, fuck Elsa :)

So, in this very long story, we’ll have all interactions between Jimin and his girl, from the very first meeting to the final explosion at Christmas. It’s a long one that takes time to set, action is slow. It’s perfect for this holiday season.

Read the warnings but know that it’s a very comforting reading. There is no big drama, no real angst. But… there are some sensitive topics in it.

W.C the total of the whole thing is more than 18 000 words… I worked like crazy on it. Won’t be perfect tho, English is not my first language.

Warning: just because there will be question of it: abortion, child mistreatment, child malnutrition, a smutty part (nothing graphic). If you are homophobe and against gay people to adopt, you can suck my toes don’t read. Basically, my main warning would be: this fic is so long...

December 1st

So it was true, the weather forecasts had not been wrong. They predicted the biggest storm in the history of Seoul, an accumulation of snow on the ground worthy of the Nordic countries. If anything, the blizzard seems stronger than expected. Looking at your window, you haven’t decided yet if you would be happy about the snowstorm or not. You stand up, grab the cup of latte you had programmed an hour earlier in anticipation of the temperature. You drink your precious mixture of espresso, milk and honey, warming your fingers on the mug while looking outside. There was several centimeters of heavy snow lying on the ground, covering everything you see like a thick white blanket. The situation is bad enough for people to be snowed in, a premiere in Seoul. In a few hours when the city will wake up, you’ll see people dig to found their cars, little kids will built forts and snowmen. The more you think about it, the more you’re happy. It’s going to be a wonderful day. After a quick shower you dressed warmly, brushed your teeth and as you tied your pink and white scarf around your neck, you heard the beep of your cell phone. It was a text message from your best friend and no.1 employee of your french style bakery and coffee shop.

Taehyung: Boss (the new nick name he gives you that you hate so much) I won’t be able to do the opening with you. It’s hell outside and the roads seems atrocious. I’m sorry :(

You: It’s ok Taehyungie. You shouldn’t even come today. I bet there won’t be any customers anyway

Taehyung: Of course I’ll come, today we have to test our yule logs, remember? So many work to do. Gotta go, careful in the stairs, it will be slippery. Love you

You: Take all the time you need. Work is less important than your life. If you aren’t comfortable driving today, just stay at home. I will manage alone with the cakes but for a day only, I don’t want to lose you forever and ever :’( imagine my life without you

Taehyung: Don’t be dramatic :) See you

You pocketed your cell phone, grabbed the shovel by the front door and go out to face the storm. As soon as you stepped outside, you felt the bite of cold on your cheeks, the only part of your body that wasn’t covered under multiple layers. At the beginning, it was absolutely wonderful to look at the millions of snowflakes drifting down towards you but when the rigorous winds would rouse them suddenly, you were hardly able to keep your eyes open. Fortunately, you lived on the second floor of the duplex housing your french bakery so it shouldn’t take too long to clear the stairs and the entrance to the store. That was technically. You forgot to consider the strength of the winds that slowed you down, the heaviness of the snow and the fact that as you pulled snow out of a place, the wind swept around and came back to deposit a new significant amount on your trail. For now, you just want to get to the ground floor, clear the entrance and finally warm up inside the pastry. If you are lucky, Tae let you a croissant, a brioche or a cinnamon roll near the coffee machine like he often does.

You had never felt so poetically alone in this huge city. The astonishing noise of Seoul, even in the middle of the night was replaced by the violent gust of wind that swept up the streets and the sound of the snow cracking under your feet. The workers all seemed slowed down by the weather and the night workers still have to be digging their cars or trying to catch a brave taxi. Shivering, you managed to reach the last step. It took you longer than expected, you have to admit. You took a few breaks to let yourself be amazed by the charm and grace of this winter wonderland. You even became a kid again for a few seconds, sticking your tongue out to catch a snowflake. Or 2.

As soon as you reached the last step, you leaned the shovel against the wall and adjusted your hat and scarf, trying by all means to warm you up. You didn’t expect the temperature to be this cold. How do people survive such extreme temperatures on a regular basis? Finally ready to attack the last meters that separate you from the main door, you are surprised by a man you didn’t hear coming.

«Let me help you. You have work so hard to get downstairs» He started to shovel a path to the door right away.

«Oh, sir, it’s very nice of you to help me like that but I can do it. You don’t need to help me out».

«It’s alright, I love to play in the snow. It reminds me when I lived in the United States» he said. «Let me a few minutes and it will be done».

He definitely had a better technique than you. He was working fast too, probably because he was stronger. He was able to take bigger scoop of snow and sending it very far. What would have taken you 1/2 hour, he did in maximum 5 minutes. You let him shovel, way too happy with this unexpected help. He cleared the last centimeters in front of the entrance door than dropped the shovel on the ground. Taking off his gloves to release a strand of hair that fell before his eyes, he turned around and you could see his face for the first time. His cheeks were pink because of the cold and effort, his breath was short and his smile illuminated his entire face.

«Here you go» He bowed at you. He was the one who has done you a favor, you should be the one who bows before him. However, you were dazzled by so much grace and refinement. How can a human being have this perfectly sculpted face? «You’re ok ma’am?» He asked when he noticed your lack of reaction. Realizing he was talking to you, you pulled yourself together quickly. Bowing at him you said «I am very thankful for your help. Would you like to have some coffee and pastry or something as a thank you gift?»

He shook his head «No, I didn’t do it to have a favor in return. I just wanted to help you. I will continue my way. Have a good day”

«Something you could bring with you?»

«It’s very nice of you but I will eat my breakfast a little later. Maybe another time» he shrugged.

«Well, ok then. Thank for your help, it’s highly appreciated».

He vanished into the storm as fast as he had appeared, luring you with the memory of a perfect face with a dazzling smile.

December 2

«I’m telling you, she was the prettiest woman alive, almost to the point of disbelief» Jimin dreamly exclaimed to his brothers. «She was devastatingly attractive, the kind of attractiveness that makes you look twice, thrice. I watched her as she was shovelling the stairs, she was digging in the snow with grace if the thing is possible… and her voice man. She has a fruity voice. No! A singsong voice» he stated.

«Fruity? Singsong? What the hell are you talking about Jimin?» Yoongi asked while concentrating on the road ahead, the bad meteorologic conditions being a nightmare for the brave drivers.

«Hey, cut him some slack. He’s a writer, you’re not, he’s got his own way with words» Jungkook took the defense of his brother. Unperturbed, Jimin continued to talk.

«Thank you baby Koo! Man… let me tell you this. If the gods are real then this woman is their masterpiece»

«You’re being completely obsessed».

«Yoongi hyung. Let him be happy. When was the last time you saw him so excited about a girl, huh?» Kook asked.

«I’m not feeling it… what can I say».

«Then say nothing at all»

Unbothered about his big brother attitude and their debate, Jimin said with conviction «She will be mine one day. She will be my wife, there is no other way possible».

Never in his life Jimin has been so positive, so sure about something. For him, there was no doubt. It was love at first sight. He couldn’t explain why he felt like this. But he did.

«Hey loverboy! You have a long way to go before the wedding proposal» Yoongi looked at his younger brother on the back seat, using the mirror. «Maybe start by being brave enough and not let your shyness stand in the way… like accepting that coffee would have been an acceptable first step» Yoongi lovingly teased his little brother.

«Ooooooh, I guess he’ll have to go back then» Jungkook said. Jimin’s cheeks went crimson red.

«Have a little faith in me! I will go back» he muttered more to himself then to his brothers. «I have no choice but to go back, she’s my destiny...»

Yoongi and Jungkook shared a look, scared for their brother.

December 3

Hopefully, today won’t be paralysed like the last 2 days were. As the storm slowed down the entire city, customers were almost non-existent. Your only regular customers were Jin, Joon and their son YooSang. If it hadn’t been for them you would have been alone in the bakery, serving only a few rushed customers.

At the end of that day, while you leaved Tae the management of the place, you hang Christmas decorations with the help of your brother Hoseok. He offered you his help since he had no literature classes to teach.

«I’m telling you, this book is amazing, it’s so well written. I’ve never read a writing style so refined since... since… I can’t even tell»

«Hoseok, can you please focus here. You’re not really helping me right now»

«oh, sorry y/n» he laughed and held out the lights you’ve been waiting for, palm up before you. Smiling at him, you can’t resist the temptation to tease.

«Oppa! Books won’t keep you warm at night. You should really go out sometimes, try to found a nice girl...»

«… who could read me aloud?» he cuts you off. You burst out of laughter, dropping the light garland you were going to install along the cake displayers.

«I give up. You’re a lost cause». Ever since you were young, you’ve always seen him with a book in hands. He was the best big brother a little girl could wish for, always ready to read a story or invent one if you couldn't find what suited your tastes of the moment. Growing up, you became close friends.

It took you 4 hours to put a Christmas atmosphere in the bakery. You were often interrupted by customer starting conversation with you. Having always given warm and personalized service to each of and every one of them, they felt welcomed and they appreciate your presence as much as your cakes. This is exactly the kind of business you wanted to run when you opened it. A cozy, intimate and familial ambiance.

«Let’s go home now y/n, mom is cooking us dinner tonight»

«Yes, let me just see if Tae needs anything before you drive us there»

You just had to look at your friend, he understood your silent question. He lifted his thumb up and shown you his biggest smile, gesturing you to go away.

«Go have fun with your oppa.».

«Thank you. If you need anything, just call me».

«Yes, will do. It’s still ok if I sleep on your couch tonight?» he asked.

«Of course Taetae, you have the key. I may not come home tho, depending on how the night goes».

«Then I’ll see you tomorrow Cherry Pie».

And the cherry pie nickname was back. It described your relationship with him better than «boss». You didn’t see the handsome stranger who helped you the other day. He just came in and was now waiting in line. He, for his part, noticed your presence as soon as he stepped in. Not to mention, he heard the last words you exchanged with Taehyung.

«Oppa… Not coming home tonight… holy shit, she has a boyfriend» he thought for himself. Disenchanted, he went on the second part of the pastry where tables and chairs were spread around for people to eat in. It was a small eatery room and he felt good as soon as he came in the first time. He opened his computer and started to write, sad because of the conversation he just witnessed but having the best idea ever for his next novel. It will be about a cute… no a beautiful baker who runs a french pastry somewhere in Korea.

December 4

“Baby Koooooooo she has a boyfriend» Jimin whined to his little brother over the phone.

«Oh! No! that’s bad! How do you know?»

«She called him oppa and said she may spend the night when she was going out with him. Oh man! What can I do?» Jimin was frustrated, the girl of his dreams wasn’t single.

«I’m sorry hyung”.

«What am I gonna do?»

«I’m afraid you can’t do anything» Trying to awaken his older brother’s good mood, he corrected what he just said «No wait! I can go and kidnap him. I could hide him in mom’s basement for a year, this way you’ll have plenty of time to conquer her heart». Jimin giggled, he knew what Jungkook was trying to do.

«You’re so creepy sometimes. But even then, it wouldn’t work. She would wait for him and...»

«May I remind you that you never talked to her except to say ‘’yes, no, shovel and snow’’.

«I was able to read in her eyes Jungkook. I know she would stay faithful to her man, hoping he would be back one day»

«And I am the creepy one? Jimin, you’re scaring me» Kook mocked his hyung. He never saw Jimin like that. Irrationally in love. Well, he saw him like that once. It didn’t turned out well.

December 5

«Yoo Sang! Come here! Stop running between the tables» Jin said to his 3 years old son.

«I can’t appa! I’m too excited».

You entered the pastry at that very moment, coming back from placing an order directly with the suppliers. As soon as you saw your favorite clients, your mood lightened.

«Jin ssi, Yoo Sang! My favorite boys are here»

«Hi Miss y/l/n» the little boy told you. Coming to stand before you, he reached his arms out, ready to receive his daily hug. You squat down to be at his height and hold him very softly in your arms before you ruffled his hairs.

«Good afternoon y/n. We just built a snowman and made the longest snowball fight in the history. But the little monster still has too much energy» Jin said with a fond smile on his face.

«It’s not my fault appa. My legs won’t stop».

You and Jin laughed at his statement. Indeed, he was energetic. He reminded you of your brother somehow. The only thing that would calm him down was a storybook.

«Aaaaaw, you’re so cute.

At this very moment, your gaze was drawn to the window where two wonderful men walked while talking. You recognised the shorter one as the man that helped you the other day. You will never forget that smile and those beautiful eyes. Your smile spreads wider as you waved at him, not taking the time to think twice about your gesture. He nodded and smiled shyly in your direction then continued his way along the street.

Jin who saw it all, suddenly had adorable frowns lines.

«What did I just saw?» he chuckled «our little y/n and our little Jiminie» he was mocking you.

«No no no, it’s nothing like that» you protested, your cheeks blushing fast «he helped me shovel the snow during the blizzard a few days ago. He was so helpful and kind». Jin made a face that meant «yeah, I believe you».

«It’s the truth. We barely talked. I invited him in for some sweets in exchange but he refused».

«Oh! You invited him for a coffee? It’s even better than I thought» He was having fun.

«It was not like that Jin ssi, I swear. But to be honest… no forget it» you wanted to tell him that you wouldn't mind a coffee date with that man called Jiminie but you’re too scared that Jin would spit the tea.

«Let’s change the subject, shall we?» you said, pretending not to hear his jokes anymore.

«Yes ma’am. But let me tell you this. If you want to know more about him, ask me. He’s our neighbor». He blinked. You will certainly keep that information in mind.

«Yoo Sang, you want me to make your honey hot milk with my secret ingredient»?

«YEEEES!» the little boy said jumping with joy.

«Come with me on the back, TaeTas is there too»

«Youpidoo» he ran and opened the swing door in a bang.

«Thank you y/n, for treating us like family. Since he has no mom, you became an important female figure for him, you don’t know that but you are the first woman he trust”.

«Of course Jin. I love your family with all my heart. You and Joon are the most wonderful dad I ever saw. You raise such a beautiful and healthy kid. I will go before Tae and him make a mess in the kitchen, 2 kids together can soon turn the place into a disaster» you joked. «Say hello to your husband for me, actually, wait. I will pack him a crisp strawberry strudel, I just bake them a moment ago.

«Yaaaa, you’re so kind. Let me pay for it».

«Certainly not. It’s my treat for Appa Joonie” Jin laughed.

«Thanks, seriously. For everything. Please send Yoo here as soon as he got his hot milk. You guys are so busy this month».

«Will do. See you soon Jin»

December 6

Jimin was trying to write, but he couldn’t. His apartment was too calm, too silent. Also, the chocolate croissants that his favorite pastry shop offers seemed to be a prerequisite for his creativity. No, he has to face the facts. Viennoiseries, as good as they were, had nothing to do with his inability to put his ideas into his writing. He should rather blame it on the pretty baker who’s been on his mind for a week. He closed his laptop, thrown it in his bag, put on his coat carelessly and leaved his apartment not even saying goodbye to his brother Kook.

As soon as he opened the bakery door, the scent of Christmas ginger cookies enhanced the atmosphere, tickling his nostrils. A popular Christmas carols was playing and approaching the cash register on the left, he had a direct view of the kitchen. He could see and hear his favorite baker and her assistant singing this childish song in what it seemed to be a friendly competition of who will be the most ‘’off pitch’’. As soon as you noticed him you stop singing and with your floured hands in suspension in the air, you slowly walked towards the cash register. He was ordering gingerbread cookies and a big cappuccino to eat-in.

«Good afternoon! I’m so glad you came, I can finally pay you back» you told him. You turned to the cashier and said «please don’t charge for his order, he’s my special guest. Also make sure his cup is always filled and treat him with extra care».

«Yes ma’am»

«Thanks h/n»

You looked and that man in the eyes and couldn’t help but smiled at him.

«Well, enjoy your time here, sir».

«Jimin. My name is Jimin»

«Nice to meet you Jimin ssi. I’m y/n. Make sure you say hello next time you pop in”

«I certainly will» Realizing that his order was ready and that the queue was getting longer behind him, he bowed at you and headed for the second half of the pastry. With a dreamy look on your face, you watched him walk into the double doors, sighing.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, probably just a second or two longer than necessary. When you turned around and walked towards your work station, Tae was flashing his teeth.

«Well, well, well...» he started

«Just shut up Tae, everybody is looking at us right now» you blushed.

Of course, he won’t let that go. But for now, his smile just got wider and wider.

«That was… so freaking cute» he said before he started that singing competition again, alone this time. You were too busy thinking about the beautiful man with a beautiful smile named Jimin.

December 7

It was late at night. Tae was squatting your couch again like he often did when you had long day at work. He lived far from the the city and sleeping at your apartment saved him transportation time. Since you’ve been best friend since high school, you din’t mind at all. He was talking to Hoseok that came by to give you some homemade food he cooked himself. Knowing that you spent the day behind the ovens and won’t be thrilled to cook when you get home, he often comes to eat with you after your days. Recently, these moments are later and later and it was his duty to inform you that he didn’t like it. At all.

«You are working too much y/n. Look, already 21h40 and you haven’t eat a proper meal yet”.

«I know Hobi, it’s temporary»

«Don’t Hobi me. I am your oppa, treat me with respect» Oh! damn, he was mad. When he insisted that you call him oppa, you were in big trouble.

«Excuse me oppa» you looked down «I know you are telling me this because you’re concerned. But I have Tae. The girls also, they makes the business run while we bake. I have help. I am not overworking».

«Yes. You are. Look at those black bags under your eyes. You also lost weight» Tae, sitting in the middle was very uncomfortable being involved in your family feud. He stopped to eat and with his mouth wide open, looked at both of you, one after the other as you were speaking.

«Oppa, it’s temporary. It’s december, the busiest month of the year».

«Then will come january. You will take january to treat your regular clients and you will spend the month creating new recipes for them, constantly wanting to offer them new things. Then, there will be february and...»

«Valentine’s day» Tae said at the same time as Hoseok.

«You’ll want to offer your classics. But you won’t stop there. You’ll want to create new stuff again for the love birds»

You know what he meant. He was right. You’ll have to hire a new baker, maybe?

«Hobi oppa» you compromised, not ready to let him win completely «I’ll take it in consideration”.

«You better. I’m really proud of you y/n, you’re an amazing person and really hard working. I know it’s your business and you want it to prosper. But if you kill yourself at work, you won’t win at the end of the day. How many months a human can endure, working like that….”

He continued to lecture you for a few minutes. At some point, you just let him talked, tired and not in the mood to fight. When he realised you weren’t listening to him, he got mad. He stood up and leaved your apartment without another word and without looking back.

December 8

Jimin was in line with his big brother Yoongi. He wanted to make him taste your delicious hot chocolate and your Yule cake. It was the middle of the afternoon but the luminous garland were already lit and christmas music was playing. There was a wonderful light snow outside and the temperature was warm. As soon as you noticed Jimin’s presence, you came to talk to him. You could feel Tae’s gaze on your back. He will tease you for hours, again.

«Hi Jimin! Glad to see you again today»

«Hi y/n, my brother is in town, I wanted to make him taste my favorite bakery shop”.

You smiled at him shyly, your cheeks blushing automatically. Unfortunately, the atmosphere changed when you heard your brother’s cold voice.

«Y/n?» he said and when he had your attention «Take off your apron and come here please». It was more an order than a demand. You knew what he wanted so you obeyed. He didn’t feel good at all and he only wanted to make it better with you. As soon as you faced him, he cupped your face and looked at you fondly.

«I’m so sorry for last night. I didn’t want to yell at you or make you feel bad. It’s just that I think you work too hard and we have less time together» he kissed your forehead and took you in his arms.

«I love you. I hate when we fight» he pouted.

«I love you too oppa. Come visit tonight, we’ll talk about it, ok?»

«Very good. Have a good day my little baby» you always hated that pet name. He used to called you little baby while pulling on your ponytail when you were kids. Today, he just said it to make you smile and it worked.

«Have a good day oppa and thanks for coming by. I will have a better day now that we talked».

«Yeah! Yeah! You’re so annoyingly cute sometimes» he teased.

«Hey, get away from here» You said not mad at all. As he walks out the door, you turned to Jimin and his brother. Jimin’s face has changed but you couldn’t tell exactly what was different.

«Are you ok?» you asked him, concerned

«Of course, I will take it as a take out finally. I forgot that we have stuff to do»

«Oooh, what stuff» His brother asked him but he let the question unanswered. Looking at you he said «it was nice seeing you again miss y/n. Have a good day».

«You too Jimin, I’m always glad when you come by» you felt the heat rise on your cheeks, you were certain that you were as red as a tomato.

«I will come back then» he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

December 9

Jimin was with his brothers, devastated. They were arguing, you being the central element of their discussion.

«Jimin, he’s her brother for the 10th time, I am telling you. Her brother. B_R_O_T_H_E_R»

«No no no! You didn’t look at them as much as I did. He’s her man. I lost my only chance to get married one day» Jimin whined overdramatically.

«Yaaa, don’t be like that” Jungkook said.

«Ok. Jimin. Let me say it again. He called her ‘’my little baby’’ like a mom would call her daughter. Not “BABY’’ he stated, insisting on each words. «He told her she was annoying with those proud brother eyes. I can tell, I look at the both of you like that sometimes when you’re not being stupid. And you look at Koo like that too all the ducking time”. He was half smiling, half annoyed.

«But… he kissed her. He hugged her».

«Yes he did. Indeed he did. In a fraternal way. He kissed her forehead. They obviously had a and he was just making things right with her».

«No Yoongi. You’re wrong. I heard him call her ‘’baby’’».

«Fuck Jimin, you’re so stubborn. He was teasing her. Plus, she was blushing when she was looking at you. She’s into you.»

“Baby Koo, you’ll have to come with me and give me your opinion» Jimin told his little brother.

«If it makes you happy, I will certainly do».

That night Jimin went into bed with hope in his heart. Maybe he didn’t lost his chance to conquer your heart if Yoongi was right.

December 10

Jimin came to your bakery shop today but you seemed concentrated. You were cutting cookie dough in star shapes and Tae was filling dry dates with what seemed like almond paste. He didn’t want to bother you so he went on the eatery and started to write on his laptop. Magically, when he was here, he felt inspired and words flown with ease. He didn’t see the time flies.

Couple of hours later, he couldn’t tell how long for sure, he was interrupted by the joyful scream of his young neighbour.

«JIMIN SSI» he came to reality with a jolt.

«Hey, my little friend YooYoo Jimin smiled and gave him a hand shake. «What’s up buddy?»

Hearing Yoo Sang screamed you left everything you were doing and came in the eatery. It was the late afternoon and you were about to close when Joon, Jin and their son came in. Jimin was your last customer and when you looked at him he was busy working on his computer so you didn’t disturb him. You couldn’t refuse a treat to your favorites clients so of course you served them hot chocolate and croissants. When you realised that Yoo was safe, you laughed.

“Miss y/n, it’s my neighbor Jimin ssi, he lives the door next to ours” he told you.

“That’s nice Yoo» You smiled at the little boy. Jin remembered your attitude the other day, the way you were waving at Jimin. He had an idea.

“Y/n, since it’s almost closing time, why don’t you lock the door and come have something with us”.

“Oooh, that’s a good idea” Namjoon seconded.

“Boys, I am so tired, I gave my employee the afternoon thinking it would be a quiet day. I was wrong. I am dead tired so yeah, coming”.

You came back with a fuming cappuccino for yourself and another latté for Jimin. You also had a jug of cold water and a basket of different kinds of treats for everybody. Jimin stood up as soon as he saw you coming in with that big tray in your hands.

“Here, let me help you”.

He took the tray from your hands and Jin made place on the table.

“You had a rough day?” Namjoon asked you.

“I wouldn’t say rough. I was just very busy. Aaaah, also a customer complained that he found a hair in his cake. He showed me the said hair. It was a short and red hair like his own! None of my employees have short red hair! I was so pissed when he thrown a tantrum in front of everybody”.

“Oooh poor you” Jin said “how did you resolved this?” You burst out of laughter remembering how the story ended.

“You remember my friend Tae? He told the man that we don’t need that kind of customers in OUR pastry and that he was welcome to leave without never coming back.

“Amazing”, “Wow”, “That’s my boy” the 3 men said at the same time. “I’m glad he was there”.

Yoo that came and sit on your laps as soon as you had sat down stated “of course he will be there, Tae is her boyfriend”. You ruffled his hairs playfully.

“Tae is not my boyfriend Sangie. He’s my best friend”.

Jimin was hoping for more information but you didn’t add anything being caught in a conversation with Namjoon.

For the first time, thanks to Jin and his good idea, Jimin had a nice conversation with you that went deeper than formalities exchanged over the cash register. For that wonderful 30 minutes spent in your company, he will always be grateful to his neighbor. From time to time, Yoo Sang would get down your laps and come onto Jimin’s and they would be in their own little world for a minute. He was just switching between what seemed to be his 2 favorite seats for the day.

«I love all your baking y/n but this one is my new favorite» Jimin indicated before eating the last bite of his ‘’baba au rhum’’ dipped in a cinnamon and ginger syrup (your personal seasonal variation)

«I’ve never tasted something that good in my whole life. I think I am addicted now».

«Then I should bake it more often» you shyly told him.

«Aaaaw» Jin and Joon scoffed.

«Sangie, your fathers are mocking me. What should I do?»

«Tickle them, this is how we resolve things at home»

«Good idea love. Tickle them for me»

He did as you asked him, the end of the day ending in a chaotic good mood.

December 11

You were about to close the pastry when a gathering of elderly persons came in. Tae was supposed to close with you but tonight, he was going out on a date so you gave him permission to finish earlier. You let the old persons take a seat on the eatery and invited them to enjoy their moment here. Then you started to clean your workstation.

You were looking outside for a short moment when you saw Jimin walking briskly along the street. You noticed his expression changed and became worried. He stopped suddenly and squatted, disappearing from your view. Curious, you approached the window. You didn’t see what he is doing because you could only see his back. He was leaning over something. You saw him taken off his scarf and carefully put something inside. He stood up, holding ‘’the thing’’ precausciously against his chest. He started to walked again, backtracking. That’s when you saw a little ball of fur in his arms. Not thinking about it, you came outside in the winter cold without anything else than your apron to keep you warm.

«Jimin?» You called out to have is attention. «Is the kitten ok?»

«Hey, well not sure… It was about to freeze on the spot… He’s not wild at all, it looks like he’s just been abandoned here.»

«Aaaaw, poor little baby, he’s so small. Keep him close to you» you said, coming closer to caress the animal. «We need to warm him up. You’ll bring him to your place?»

«I can’t, I live with my brother Koo and he’s really allergic to cats».

«Shit, let’s bring it to my place then» shivering, you buried your arms behind your apron.

«Jimin, I have customers and I can’t bring it to the pastry shop. You want to put it in my apartment? And maybe have an eye on him until I come in in a few minutes? I don’t want him to die, and certainly not alone»

«Wow! I am always the dramatic one normally, seems like I have competition now» he teased you «Yes, you have a good idea».

«Ok, wait» You ran inside, took your keys and gave it to Jimin.

«Go fast please. I have a leftover salmon in the fridge, please feed him».

«Will do»

The next 30 minutes your clients took to eat and gossip looked like an eternity. You purposely made dishes noise, indirectly signifying that you were ready to leave, you didn’t care if they think you were rude. The only thing you wanted was to go home and see if the kitten survived. The second they left, you put the key in the door and ran upstairs. You were not prepared for what you saw.

Jimin was sitting on the floor with the little ball of fur on his laps, rolled on the blanket that you use to warm up at night. The black and white kitten was licking his paw and scratching the back of his ears. He was purring loudly under Jimin’s loving gaze and caress.

«Oh! My! God! This is so cute… Look at this little thing» You said while you came closer. You sat beside Jimin and caressed the kitten little back. For the first time ever, you noticed how cute Jimin’s hands were. He had veiny, masculine hands but they were so small and cute at the same time. You were melting for both the cat and the hands.

«Our instinct was right. He’s a little boy» Jimin said interrupting your thoughts.

«Ooooh, he’s so cute. What are we gonna do with him?»

«Do you want to keep him?»

«I never had a cat in my whole life. Can I take care of it?»

«Of course you can. It’s really easy. If you want him, I’ll tell you what you need to know for now»

«Oh! Yes then. I want to keep him. He came to my pastry after all. It’s a sign»

«Technically, he was on the other side of the st….»

«Shhhhhh» you interrupted him «let me live in my own little dream in which he chose me to be his mommy».

Jimin burst out of laughter and he handed you the kitten. “Here, meet your mommy, little boy” he said. When he placed it in your hands, his pinky touches your palm gently. This simple touch made you shudder. His hand seemed so soft and warm.

«Look at his little black nose. He’s perfect isn’t he?»

«Indeed he is. He’s got his family genes»

«Aaaaaw, that was so cheesy» You mocked him.

Jimin stood up. He grabbed his coat and put it on.

«Stay with your baby. I will go buy some food, and litter. The basics. I will be back»

«Really? Do you want me to...»

«No, stay with him. Get to know each other better. I’ll be back soon».

«Thank you Jimin. I appreciate it»

Jimin left your apartment and suddenly you missed him. He came back 15 minutes later with his hands full of bags. He placed and filled the litter where you wanted it. He put some bowls on the floor and filled them with moist and dry food for kittens. He gave your cat all sorts of toys and after a last caress and kiss on the top of his head, he left.

One time only. He had come to your apartment only once. But you never wanted him to leave again. His smile, his sweetness, his energy. You already missed everything.

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