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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Oblivious

Valkyrae (Rae) x Reader (Gender Neutral) ft. Corpse Husband

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: In the most desperate of times, we may or may not be used to hearing the phrase ‘Beggers can’t be choosers’ which is exactly why Y/N’s found themself asking the most hopeless of cases when it comes to love and romance - Corpse, for help.

Requested by Xara. Hi darling! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me - I love writing for Rae (excuse my bi excitement, I’m just a HUGE simp) and I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to do so. Sorry it’s been two months since you requested this but here it finally is and I hope it makes up for the wait. Love, Vy ❤

“Corpse, I’m in desperate need for help.“ I don’t even bother with a friendly or even polite greeting. Being best friends for as long as we have, Corpse and I excluded the politeness that comes with phone calls a long time ago, especially when calling with an emergency. Though, let’s be honest, if I’m calling him on the phone and not on video chat like I usually do, it is an emergency.

“Given that you’re asking me, I can imagine how desperate you are.“ He has the audacity to laugh in response, causing me to roll my eyes.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea - I love Corpse with all my heart. Him and I have been through A LOT together considering we know each other since we were teenagers. However, there are some instances in life when he simply doesn’t get me. Not that he doesn’t try to, he does and does so very hard, but he rarely succeeds. Trying is what matters, of course. Given that he is my only close friend, I can only ever turn to him with my problems though I try my best not to bother him too much, but when things get REALLY tough, I can’t help but go and vent to him. Luckily, he’s always been very understanding, but it may be because he feels like he owes me for all the times he has turned to me with his problems. I’ve tried to explain that he shouldn’t feel such a way, but that’s rather hypocritical of me cause I feel the same way.

Alright, enough digressing, back on track!

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to summarize how I feel.“ I sigh, plopping down on the couch in my living room, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as I cover my eyes with my hand. “Brutally miserable is, I think, the correct term to use here.“

I hear Corpse let out a quiet ‘oof’, one I think he hoped I wouldn’t hear. “And what led you to finally give in and ask for help, not that I can offer you much?”

I can’t help but snort at that, a snort that serves as a replacement to slapping myself across the face. “Rae texted me yesterday asking if I’d like to play Minecraft with her and I took THREE HOURS to respond! Not on purpose, I just couldn’t think of something good to say!” I know I sound like a whiney kid, but I think I’ve passed that threshold LONG ago. Of course, this whiney kid version of me only surfaces around Corpse and Corpse only. No one else is allowed to see me like this or that would legit be the end of any sort of pride I may have left in me.

“You mean you couldn’t choose between ‘Sure, I’d like that!’ and ‘Of course, I’d love to!’? Please say yes.“ Corpse already sounds disappointed and he hasn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

“No and sit tight, it gets worse. I...“

He cuts me off, “Wait, no, don’t say it. Let me guess - you turned her down? Keep in mind if you say yes I’m hanging up on you.”

I remain silent, pinching the bridge of me nose and cringing as hard as my facial muscles are willing to allow. I can’t say yes, not cause he’ll hang up but because admitting it makes it more real, and the more real it is the more depressed it’ll make me and I will go back to being a self-deprecating mess that refuses to be productive or properly functioning - aka ‘Whiney Kid Maximum’.

“I’m hanging up.“ Corpse says after waiting five seconds for my response that only comes in the form of dead silence which is more than enough of an answer in and of itself.

“No, please don’t!“ I squeak out despite my agony, “I’ll never break the cycle if you don’t help me, Corpse! I’m a hopeless case!“

“You’re a hopeless case with or without me, Y/N.“ He states, angering me ever so slightly. “Not only cause you really are, but because I have nothing useful to offer you. Not even a single advice. Even if I did, giving it to you would by hypocritical when considered how bad I am on this field myself. Hell, the very person you’re head over heels for is my personal matchmaker. If anything, you should be asking her how to swoon her...“ He pauses.

So does my brain.

For a second we’re both quiet, the silence on the line suggesting big plans are being developed - well, not on my end but still.

“Now there’s an idea...“ He mutters more to himself than to me.

“No!“ I shriek fearfully, “Please, if you love me even the tiniest bit, Corpse, don’t put me in a situation where I have to be alone with Rae! Not IRL not in a Discord call - not in ANYTHING. I close up and end up seeming unfriendly and rude because of my inability to talk to her like a normal human being! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just can’t do it! So please don’t make me.“

I maybe can’t read minds, but hell if I can’t at least have a rough guess of what’s on my best friend’s mind - I know he’s already scheming and coming up with odd solutions to my problem - some of which will cause me more problems but let’s not even mention those. That being said, I need to prevent him from actually carrying out any of his absurd schemes, otherwise it’s game over for me.

“Hmm, ok fine, but only cause I wanna spare you your own awkwardness. Consider it charity.“ He sighs, the disappointment even more evident now.

I sigh too, but I do so in defeated relief. It’s bittersweet, to be honest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.“ He says sharply, “Don’t thank me. It’ll make me feel like I’m encouraging your behavior.“

Well, screw my feelings, I guess. I’m left on this battlefield alone, aren’t I?

Corpse hanging up the call confirms that I am, indeed, alone.

* * *

“Hello?“

“Are you still in bed, for the love of God? It’s noon!“ Not only did he have the audacity to wake me up with his phone call, but now he has the audacity to judge me on my sleeping habits as well. Some darn nerve he has.

“What do you want, Corpse?“ I grumble out, groggy and now grumpy too. The last thing I need is the only person I can turn to turning on me. Especially not now. I don’t need his or anybody else’s judgement of me or my life, it’ll hurt too much.

“I want to know how long you haven’t showered, Y/N.“ He barks back, causing me to roll my eyes. “And when’s the last time you actually ate something healthy and nutritious and not just greasy takeout?”

“I showered last night!“ I straighten up and frown, feeling offended despite his questions being justifiable. I think that’s exactly why I’m pissed off, to be honest - he knows me and my habits too well. “And you’re just being hypocritical on the eating part!“

“Whatever.“ He mutters, allowing me to feel at least a tiny sense of victory for having proven him wrong, “Get your ass up and come play Minecraft with me, you need to be cheered up asap.“ He continues, much to my dismay. “And don’t even think about saying ‘no’. If you do, just remember, I have your address and a strong will to kick your ass into shape.“

“Into shape? We’re going to the gym or something?“ I’m honestly confused and intrigued now. Maybe the gym isn’t such a bad idea, I’m sure I could become really good friends with the punching bag.

Corpse sighs exasperatedly in a way I can basically hear him roll his eyes as well, “Not that kind of shape, Y/N. Just get on Discord, seriously, I’m worried about you.“

That sentence strikes a nerve. Something about that genuine concern in his voice reminds me that I still need to move on from focusing so strongly on just my failures, no matter how big or small, and keep pushing forward, if not for myself then for the people who care about me. For Corpse especially, seeing as how he’s sort of been my babysitter ever since my feelings towards Rae started to consume me whole and suffocate me. I don’t know how or when it happened, in fact I can best describe it as the Titanic: I was doing ok and then instead of hitting an iceberg the iceberg of feelings hit me and I started sinking. Corpse was there to offer me a hand to help me keep at least my head above the surface. He can’t pull me out of the water but he’s not willing to let go either. I’m afraid holding on like that will tire him out to the point of letting go of me completely, but I’m afraid of sinking too. You see my dilemma here, no?

“Ok, give me twenty minutes.“

I would have probably continued sleeping or just chilled on social media, refusing to get out of bed for at least another hour, but the debt I feel towards Corpse is stronger than the desire to be a slob so I motivate myself with every power my fragile mind can fish out of the void and push the covers off me, shivering at the drastic change in temperature around my body now that I’m exposed to the rather cool air in my room, my pajamas hopeless at providing me with any warmth.

Twenty minutes later sharp, I’m seated at my desk, in front of my computer with my headphones on, taking one last encouraging breath before entering the call where Corpse is waiting for me.

“Yo.“ I greet him half-heartedly, drawing invisible abstract patterns on my desk with my finger as if I’m avoiding eye contact with him IRL.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of punctuality at least.“ He chuckles, sounding a lot more pleasant and a lot more like my friend Corpse and less like sergeant Corpse Husband who was speaking with me on the phone earlier.

“Very funny.“ I murmur in my now common brooding manner, “Anyway, enough about me, how are you doing? Anything interesting happen since we last spoke?“

“You mean in the past ten hours? No, nothing interesting apart from that I managed to catch a few z’s.“ He replies as I join the Minecraft server, managing to get a smile out of me.

“Hey, that’s nice to hear! Good for you, Corpsie.“ I say, honestly proud and happy for him.

“Yeah, and just so you’re not calling me hypocritical on the topic of eating, I’m currently cooking myself lunch.“ He points out, now just straight up peacocking, “On that note, I got a pot on the stove so you’ll have to excuse me for a sec.“

“Please go. Don’t set your apartment on fire the first time you cook” I snicker, leaning back in my chair and fetch my phone to kill the time while he’s gone to tend to whatever attempt at a meal he has prepping in his kitchen. I feel bad for his stomach, and his kitchen, already.

“Corpse? Hi!“

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no - tell me that was an auditory hallucination and I didn’t actually hear that just now! TELL ME!

“Rae?“ I blurt out, almost falling backwards out of my chair, eyes wide, jaw hanging slightly.

Just then I get a text from Corpse:

Consider me dead and carry the convo. I know you’ve got this, Y/N

Oh that prick is gonna get it!

“Y/N? Hi! Sorry, Corpse didn’t mention you’d be playing with us, but it’s so nice to be hearing from you! It feels like it’s been forever.“ Rae replies, cheery and enthusiastic as ever, just like the absolute sweetheart she is.

With Corpse absent from his position, without his metaphorical hand holding mine, I’m metaphorically sinking and drowning. Maybe the drowning part isn’t so metaphorical after all, considering I actually am drowning in all the thoughts produced by my mind at the moment. A mind that’s going completely haywire, might I add.

“Hehe, well, funny thing, he didn’t tell me you’d be playing with us either.“ I chuckle anxiously, already breaking out in a nervous sweat. I solemnly promise to kill Corpse first chance I get, that way he’ll at least be dead for real.

“He set us up, huh? What’s his game, where even is he?“ Rae asks, properly confused as she should be.

All on-point questions, hun. And I can’t answer any of them logically.

“Um, you know, he’s off doing...something.“ And there go my conversational skills out the window, I hope they send me a postcard one day.

“Whatever, enough about Mr. Ominous. Tell me, what’s been keeping you busy?“ Oh crap, this is the question I’ve been fearing. Mostly cause I’m not prepared for it. “Actually no, let me rephrase: Why have you been avoiding me recently?“

‘Oh crap’ squared. Tripled.

“Whaaat? Avoiding you? Where’d you get that idea?“ I’m aware of my high pitched voice, but it’s not like I can do much to tone it down. Every part of me is in critical panic mode and rationality has accompanied my aforementioned conversational skills out the window.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Ignoring my texts, leaving me on ‘Seen’ and then declining my offer just to accept the same one coming from Corpse - can’t really blame me for finding it shady.“ She replies, her words making me wince and hide my face in the palms of my hands as though it’ll shield me from Rae’s brutal honesty and forthrightness.

“I’ve been...bad at replying to everyone lately, nothing personal, I swear.“ Yeah, that sounded convincing, good gosh-darn job, Y/N!

“Why’s that?“ Something about her tone suggest she knows I’m lying and is just humoring me and my agony. I don’t know if to thank her for it or wish she’d just rip off the band-aid and confront me head-on. In that case I’d have only one of two options: freeze up or spill my guts. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse. “I thought you’d reach out to me, given you’ve found yourself in a pickle.”

I frown, confused and wary like I’m walking on thin ice over a pool of sharks, “Pickle? What pickle?“

“Corpse mentioned you needed dating advice.“ She replies simply as though it should’ve been obvious and as if it’s the most casual, regular and normal thing. Little does she know...

“Um, yeah, I guess you can call it that.“ I murmur sheepishly, my cheeks reddening.

“Who’s the lucky girl?“ She asks, the excitement now replacing the previous suspicion she was fronting, making me nervous as hell.

My heart skips a beat, “How’d you know I’m crushing on a girl?“

“Uh...“ She stumbles over her words, pausing to collect her thoughts and formulate a response, “Corpse told me!“ When the reply finally arrives it’s as high pitched as mine was earlier, suggesting something ain’t right.

I stay quiet, my mind and heart racing which is quicker. My leg is bouncing, my fingers are tapping the keyboard rhythmically as I rack my brain, pushing it to put the pieces of this enigmatic puzzle together, connect the dots.

When it finally does, I’m left with a horrific end-result, a realization that makes me go pale as a ghost, “He told you who said girl is too, didn’t he?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I keep the tone low so she doesn’t notice how shaky it is.

It takes her a few seconds to reply, but when she does I kinda wish she hadn’t, “Maybe...”

My first instinct is to excuse myself from the call, pack all my kitchen knives and drive to Corpse’s house but with my limbs having lost any and all feeling in them that is practically impossible. So, I settle for my second instinct which is hiding my face in the palms of my hands as though they can shield me from the immense embarrassment Corpse has set me up for.

“Listen...“ I start, not sure where I wanna go with this, “You don’t have to say anything, I get the hint. No need to bother with a gentle reje-“

“I like you too, Y/N!“ Rae cuts off my rambling with a melodic laugh, “I’m sorry, but you can be very oblivious sometimes, and I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine for a bit. Sorry if I freaked you out.“ Judging by her tone, she’s not sorry at all. In fact, she’s one step away from bursting out into laughter.

“Trust me, ‘freaked out’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.“ I sigh, exasperatedly, sinking into my chair alike a deflated balloon. “You and Corpse are gonna pay for that heart attack you led me to the brink of!”

This time, she doesn’t hold back, letting out the laughter she’s been holding back this whole time, “I don’t know how Corpse will do that, but could I pay my dues with a brunch on Friday?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “Miss Valkyrae, is this you asking me out on a date?“ I ask teasingly - aka with more confidence than I feel.

Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’.

“I don’t know, what do you think, Y/N?“ She asks, tone just as teasing as mine.

“Hey, I’m not as oblivious as you claim I am!“ I argue light-heartedly, “Does 2PM work for you?“

“Any time works for me.“ Rae replies, a smile blatantly evident in her voice. A smile that unleashes a flock of butterflies in my stomach.

And just like that, I have a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on for the longest time. It happened so fast it’s practically a blurred part in my mind, but one thing I’m sure will be crystal-clearly imbedded in my mind forever is that brunch on Friday. Just then, I get yet another text from Mr. Schemer himself.

That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

Some nerve he has, I swear to God.

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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

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Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 10

Rise of the Demon King Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: I gotta Discord server guys! It's primarily Obey Me but other fandoms are welcome as well. It's kinda baby and dead so me and the other members are looking to revive it and we'd love for you to come join us. A roleplay area is included :) https://discord.gg/F3YEmDZCPS Please remember to read and accept the rules once you join for access to all the channels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously: Satan spent the rest of the night by his brother's side, cleaning his room and slowly, step by step, bringing back how his brother usually looked like. A glowing masterpiece, worthy of both envy and praise. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 10 - A Strong Bond (1616 words)

I was sitting at Lucifer's desk in his old room. After spending 3 sleepless nights in a row, Simeon helped me move into Luci’s old room which thankfully had some really good blinds to block out the celestial sun. The paperwork seemed as endless as it had in the Devildom only this time, it was the archangels' work. While they did their share and dealt with their department’s issues, the majority of the work still fell on my shoulders. I’m starting to understand why Lucifer felt this way towards paperwork. I put the pen down as I finished up the last of this week’s paperwork. Looking at the time, I realized I’ve been working for the past 9 hours straight. Getting up, I stretched my back and felt my joints popping. I filed the rest of the work and got dressed in something more comfortable. A simple dark blue turtleneck and white jeans. I made my way to the kitchen, having missed dinner, I wanted to get something to nibble on before bed. Upon entering, I found Raphael at the table with a cup of celestial berry tea. Noticing me, he looked up and waved me over.

“What are you still doing up Raph?” “I could ask the same. Here, we have some leftovers.” Raphael got up and got a plate from the fridge placing it in the microwave before getting another mug to pour more tea in. “Thank you” I took the mug with both hands and slowly sipped it. Relishing the warmth flowing down my throat. Taking the plate out of the microwave, Raphael set it in front of me before ruffling my hair and sitting back down. Laughing I retaliated back.

“H-hey! I’m not a child”

“You are compared to us. An overworked tired child that despite being in over their head, is doing an amazing job at keeping us running.”

“Thank you. It is hard though. I have no idea how Lu did it, still does it.”

“Yeah, Sammy would work himself to exhaustion. You actually remind me of him. Your determination to get the work done flawlessly and your dedication. Are you sure you’re not supposed to be an angel?”

“Heh, thanks Raph, but you and I both know I’m only doing this to go back.”

“Do you have to though? You’ve been here for a full millenia now. Don’t you want to stay?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely up here and you guys are the absolute best, but I don’t belong here. My heart is in the Devildom with the brothers.”

“Why though? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing, but why would you rather stay in the Devildom than here?”

“I guess the Devildom just grew on me. The Devildom, and the bro’s. I like the way Belphie looks when he’s sleeping peacefully, his head on my lap. I admire the way Beel protects his twin and his brothers, sacrificing everything to make them happy. I envy the way Asmo can change a tense atmosphere into an up beat one effectively dissolving any tension. I find myself thinking about Satan and the late reading nights we’d have and the discussions about cats and our books. I wish I had as much passion as Levi does with his games and shows. Confidently ranting on about them without caring what others think. I’m amazed by Mammon’s love for his family. Everything he sacrifices to make them happy. He even puts himself in the line of fire and would redirect the attention to himself by doing something stupid to distract them from their suffering. I love Lucifer. I love how much he cares for his family. All he sacrifices, all he endures, all the pain he hides from them to keep them happy. To keep us all happy... I miss them.” Tears started pooling as I reminisced about the brothers. Raphael leaned over and pulled me into a shoulder hug.

“I know you do. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure they miss you too. It sounds like you created a strong bond with them. I’m sure you’ll get to see them soon.”

“I hope so. Thanks Raph.”

“Anytime Y/N. I think you should get some rest. Don’t forget we have a-”

“Y/N, Raphael.” Michael walked into the kitchen. He had a look that closely resembled contentment and relief.

“Michael, how can we help you?”

“You should be in bed Raphael. Father wants to see Y/N. Now.” Raphael and I exchanged a look. I finished off my tea and hugged Raphael goodnight before heading to my room to change into something more appropriate for my meeting with God. 5 minutes later and we were on our way to the palace. In the Devildom After they lost Y/N The day they lost Y/N was the hardest day in their life. After they got back to the house, they both went straight to their room, not talking with anyone. Behind the relative safety of a locked door, Belphie crawled into bed and tried to escape reality. Beel sat on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t try to sleep, he didn’t go to the kitchen, he didn’t move. He just sat there, the pain numbing him. They stayed like this for a while before Belphie started tossing and turning, his slumber becoming a restless nightmare. Beel got up and changed into something more comfortable. He moved Belphie over and got under the covers, pulling his twin into his chest. Belphie felt himself being pulled into his older brother's embrace and leaned into it, grief evident on both their faces as they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

The days following weren’t much better. Beel wouldn’t eat as much, practically starving himself and he was rarely found. When any of the brothers would go looking for him, they’d either find him in his room or the gym. Belphie wouldn’t wake up at all anymore. He’d go weeks sleeping, if you could call nightmare filled nights sleeping. He wasn’t any better awake either. When he did wake to attend school or fulfill an order from the king, you could practically see the waves of pure wrath and resentment surrounding him, only dispersing when Beel was close by. There were days where neither of them would leave their room, both just staring into space, little words exchanged. Although they didn’t need to. Their shared bond conveyed more than words could express. The pain amplified by this bond. When Belphie was awake, the twins would practically be inseparable. Neither going anywhere without the other.

This went on for a few months. One day after being rudely awakened from a nap, Belphie found himself wandering the house for a quiet place to sleep. Normally, he’d just head up to the attic, however today, he found his feet leading him down to the catacombs, towards Lilith’s, now Y/N’s casket. He doesn’t know what brought him here, but as soon as he saw it, his eyes started watering. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the memories he has assorted with the casket or if it was because Beel was sitting next to it, leaning his back against the side, crying. Sensing Belphie’s presence, Beel opened his eyes and turned his head towards his twin. He cracked a small, tired smile as Belphie moved to sit next to him. This was the first time Belphegor had seen Beelzebub cry since Y/N’s execution. Sitting next to his brother, he leaned into the larger demon letting his own tears flow. Their hands gravitated toward each other as they took hold. For the first time since the trial, they sat together in silence; tears flowing down their cheeks. Eventually, they fell asleep like this, holding each other's hands. It was Levi that found them. The 3rd born having come down to place the gift he got for Y/N from the convention on the casket. He spotted the twins sleeping with tear stained cheeks and left. He came back down a few minutes later with a blanket and a few snacks for when they awoke. Not wanting to disturb them, he set down the Ruri-chan kit and carefully draped the blanket over them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was envious of the twins connection and devotion to be there for each other. Then he remembered about their connection. He knows the twins can feel what the other is feeling. He realized that they were probably taking this the hardest, their shared connection amplifying the pain. His envy for them left, replaced by something resembling pity. He left them in the catacombs and retreated to his room. The twins awoke at the same time. They took notice of the blanket draped over them and the fruit tray placed next to them. They exchanged a smile as Beel leaned over to grab the tray, offering the fruit to Belphie first. Belphegor grabbed an apple slice and held it towards Beel. Beel opened his mouth accepting the slice and repeated the action with a clementine. They continued like this, feeding each other until the tray was empty. They stayed down in the catacombs for a little while longer, their bond conveying the vows they made to each other. They’d never leave each other's side. Always be there for their other half.

After that day, Beel would take responsibility for waking the youngest whenever he slept for too long and Belphie took responsibility for making sure Beel ate whenever he was awake. From that day forward, you’d never find one twin without the other close by. Their relationship strengthened, one relying on the other. Always being there when needed.

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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New Blurb (Bruises) will be out in one hour!

Assorted Asks (including TB&TB! 🐇)

1. Stay tuned. You're onto something.

2. I have not written it yet 😅However, I debated making this section of Part 9 the initial "About" section for TB&TB, so I'll share it here:

(SNEAK PEEK BELOW)

B: "I don't want people to get the wrong idea about you." S: "Which idea is that?" B: "That you and I are... you know, having sleepovers." S: "Sleepovers?" B: "Please don't make me say it." S: "I'm going to need more context." B: "D-Don't make fun of me!" S: "I'm not. I just want to know what you're worried about. You told me that you'd keep me up-to-date on the latest whispers in the classroom. Is there something scandalous happening between us that I should know about?" B: "Sex!" (pause) "I'm scared that people will think we're having sex."

(SNEAK PEEK OVER)

3. She really is adorable, no?

4. [Link here] Thank you so much for showing me this! It's so sweet and I really appreciate you all.

5. I just wrote a very similar blurb about Raymond (Personal Image). I probably won't do anything else like this for a long time, only because I deeply loathe writing about insecurity.

6. I'm terrible at recommending fics, unfortunately. I rarely have time to read, so I almost never do. That being said, I know of the following:

@writing-in-april : Guest Lecturer

@spenciegoob : Pretty When You Cry

@spencer-reid-in-a-pool : Guest Speaker

@dontshootmespence: Two Most Graceful People Ever

@curtishoney : Dilated Pupils

My Tumblr is being a brat so I cannot link many more things. For any others, I recommend asking @dreatine

7.I saw @writing-in-april beat me to the punch in answering this one. She is actually in my Discord, so unfortunately I only really know about the ones she recommended already.

If anyone else knows any, please post them in the comments here!

8. (NSFW Discussion - From now on, please send to my NSFW Sideblog 🤗) I'm always here for validation, my friend! As for your boyfriend, if he cares about your comfort, he should be trying to find other ways to satisfy his sexual drive without pressuring you into doing something that you are not enthusiastic about. Just remember that - his sex drive is not your responsibility. That being said, if you are truly incompatible, I understand why that would be hard and may require some grieving over a lost opportunity due to something out of both of your control.

Find your balance that makes you happy. If he genuinely cares about you and wants to be with you, maybe you can find a compromise (my partner also loves erotica, so sometimes we'll share that experience without sex with one another).

I wish you the best of luck ❤️

#answered #answer #tbatb #tb&tb #sneak peek

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vventure · 4 years

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Noted

Pairing: Yaoyorozu Momo x f!reader

Genre: domestic!AU, Fluff, tiny bit of Angst

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

Summary: Life with a pro-hero means less time together, but Momo always has time to leave you her thoughts before she goes on patrol.

A/N: Happy Birthday, @writeiolite / @seijoh !!! Io, it has been such a pleasure to get you know you!! I know I don’t tell you a lot but I really appreciate you and I love chatting with you even if it’s just through discord and comments in fics. You always have a way of brightening up a room. I hope your birthday is as amazing as you are, I love you so very much! I didn’t really proof read this so sdkflksdf The graphics at the end were created by me, so please don’t judge them too harshly. My handwriting is TRASH.

“If I know what love is, it is because of you.” -Hermann Hesse

Trilling high notes emitting from your phone pierced your sleeping ears, causing you to turn into the warmth beside you as morning light dispelled the darkness behind your once shut eyelids. Momo’s inky hair marred the surface of her pure white pillow as she slept through your alarm; all sounds were muted through her ear plugs, and her eyes were guarded from the daylight by a black mask with kitten ears on it.

As much as you’d love to lay forever in the plush clouds of the large bed, being late to work wasn’t ideal. Propping yourself up on your arm, you leaned over your girlfriend's slumbering form, taking in the way that her plush pink lips moved as though she were speaking with someone in her dream.

When you’d first started living together she often had nightmares: thrashing and screaming before her eyes snapped open to the reality of the dark bedroom and your hands gripping her firmly in an effort to ground her. It seemed now that the nightmares were becoming few and far between and you hoped that it was your comfort that made it so.

The scent of her expensive floral conditioner dancing along your senses as you ghosted a wispy kiss along her smooth cheekbone before rolling out of bed for the day.

“I love you,” you voiced to her blocked senses.

She’d been working evening patrols for nearly a month and it was difficult to adapt to rarely seeing her in your shared apartment while awake. Work was the typical 9-5 on your part, so moments shared in the past such as eating takeout at the dining room table or watching your favorite k dramas before falling asleep in her lap were on-hold until further notice.

You hoped her schedule would change soon and things would go back to how they used to be. Her absence from your life was taking a toll and you didn’t particularly want to tell her in fears of putting more of a burden on her heavily laden shoulders. You could deal with this on your own, right?

When Momo woke that afternoon she let out a heavy sigh to the empty bed space beside her, running her fingers along the now-cool fabric where you always lay. She began her morning routine, going through the motions of brushing her teeth and hair, slipping on her hero costume, and having a bite to eat.

Her mind was occupied with thoughts of your tittering laugh through the capacious apartment and the way that you’d fiddle with your hair whenever you talked to her. She thought about how you insisted on going for walks in the evening for exercise when she knew it was a ploy to get her to buy you your favorite flavor of boba tea. Thoughts of your supple skin under her roaming hands as you basked in the faint glow of the copious candles in your bedroom kept her company as she sipped her coffee.

A feeling of happiness bubbled suddenly in her chest when she thought about the news she’d received the day, and she imagined your face brightening as she told you.

You were still at the forefront of her mind as she slipped through the front door, neglecting a very important part of her morning routine.

*It should be here*, you thought to yourself as you gaped at the fridge in confusion.

Did she forget today? Probably. But what if she just didn’t want to do it anymore? What if this was too much of a hassle for her and this was her way of stopping it: cold turkey.

Your heart plummeted to your stomach as your eyes tracked along the front of the fridge slowly once more, taking in the usual decorations magnetized to its surface.

A picture from New Years of you kissing in your coordinated dresses, a magnet from the trip to Seoul you’d convinced her to go on with you after graduating from UA, the menu from your favorite take-out place, and no post-it note.

The long nights away patrolling must have been the catalyst for this. Momo never missed her daily post-it note to you ever since you’d started dating back in the final year of high school. It began with a simple pink post-it with the word “Hey” on it accompanied by a cheery smiley face on your desk when you arrived at your first class of the day one morning. You’d caught a glimpse of her leaving the general studies classroom that day but didn’t question it at first.

The notes continued to appear until you finally confronted her with a small smile on your face and the latest note adhered to your pointer finger. It was a lop-sided kitty-cat, her number hastily scribbled onto the bottom in pencil.

Pressing your hand to your chest, you walked to the bedroom and pulled the fattened black sketchbook from its habitat in your bedside table before plopping into the middle of the bed and cracking it open.

There they were, all of the sticky-notes she’d ever given you together in order. Your mind was moving through scenarios at a million miles a minute as you stared down at the colored papers, committing your relationship to memory before your eyes failed you and you fell asleep.

Tingles running down your spine pulled you from sleep, your eyes landing on Momo’s angelic face, her black hair hanging in a halo around the both of you. Your head was in her lap and she was running her finger nails over your scalp soothingly to wake you gently.

“Hello, [Y/n],” she said, her lips quirking into a smile.

“Oh, hi,” you replied. Sitting up from her lap, you turned to face her. That’s when you noticed that she had your book of notes sitting next to her on the duvet. She placed a well-manicured hand upon it.

“I...didn’t know you kept them all. I honestly thought that you threw them out once you read them. I didn’t know that they meant enough to you to keep,” she spoke softly.

“Of course they do,” you said, reaching out to place your palm over her smooth knuckles. “They’re from you. But I understand that it’s probably too much-”

“I forgot your note today,” she cut you off. “My mind was elsewhere all morning, but I have it if you’ll still accept it.”

Much like the day you held the note with the cat out to her, she held a pink post-it out on her pointer finger to you. All the dire thoughts you’d been nursing after work disappeared as you plucked the note from her finger, absorbing the words there.

“Really?” Your surprised voice came out a little thickly as happy tears pooled in your eyes.

“Really,” she said as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You could deal with life on your own, but it was better with her.

#Momo Yaoyorozu x reader #Yaoyorozu Momo x reader #Yaoyorozu Momo #Momo Yaoyorozu #BNHA x reader #MHA x reader #BNHA #mha

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intrulogical · 4 years

Text

Spirals

author’s note: oh literally this is the worst. who knew the first fic without logan would've been a nightmare to make. i just really wanted to establish a secure dynamic between janus and remus, make some junji ito references, and move on, honestly. i just want to get to the fanfiction where they play poker and argue with the light sides, ya'know? but still, i guess i had to make *this* fanfiction. think of it as the halloween episode in sanders sides.

this fic literally cannot be read as a standalone so, for the love of all things good, please read the other fics in the series to understand what the fuck is going on! because this fic is sure as hell messy so reading it by itself won't even make sense lmao

like always, thank you to the logang discord for support! big thanks especially to kei, orb, and ellie for beta reading!

pairings: Platonic Remus & Janus, Mentions of Romantic Remus/Logan, Mentions of Past Remus/Janus

warnings: remus angst, critical light sides, light sides negativity, swearing, remus-typical content, mentions of nsfw, weird horror-inspired creatures, slight self-esteem issues, just remus being sad :(

word count: 5502

summary: Remus sighed. It didn’t matter, he supposed. As long as the buzz from the lake distracted his thoughts and the hypnotizing spirals in the sky continued to drift, it would all be fine.

Spirals, spirals, spirals. Just like how he was spiralling right now. He chuckled at himself for the stupid connection; Logan really got him used to doing pointless word association games.

Word association games. Logan. His lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever.

Remus raised his arms to rub his tired face. The soaked sleeves of his hoodie dripped the water unto his cheeks. He really did not want to think about Logan and the possibility of him becoming a--

He splashed his arms back onto the water furiously as he furrowed his lip.

or,

Remus has some conflicting thoughts about Logan becoming a "Dark" Side, has a different unidentifiable problem, and swims around in his Junji Ito-inspired creation. Janus, on the other hand, has to convince him to take a break.

(ao3 link)

There was a buzzing, staticky sensation that tickled Remus’s neck and legs as he floated atop the Dragonfly Pond. The lake itself, admittedly, was highly unrealistic as Remus hadn’t perfected every single aspect of his copy of Uzumaki’s horrific town of Kurozu-Cho, but Remus enjoyed traversing through the ghastly lake nonetheless. The odd buzz that fizzled against his skin felt weirdly satisfying and mind-numbing, allowing the irksome, overwhelming thoughts in his head to evaporate slightly.

Remus understood that he should’ve been tucked in his bed by now, falling asleep to eccentric Jack Stauber songs as he hugged the gigantic octopus plushie Logan had given to him on his birthday. There was a persistent burn in his eyes that only worsened as time passed by and his muscles ached so terribly to the point of cramping. His eyes were practically blurring after a few seconds of gazing at the sky, and he swore he felt frost nipping at the ends of his fingers and toes. Yet here he was, paddling himself across the lake using his feet as his hoodie became soggier by the second, ignoring every logical thought that screamed at him to go to bed.

Junji Ito’s works were always a source of unexpected comfort for Remus. Remus recognized it was probably suspicious that he felt at ease while reading mangas about demonic, gut-wrenching monsters, but as an avid fan of the cosmic horror genre, he was only exhilarated by the detailed yet unsettling drawings.

This was the reason why he made replicas of those mangas in his side of the Imagination. Many of his landscapes were dedicated to the fascinating monsters Ito was able to create. Sometimes, Remus’s ambitiousness took over and prompted him to create entire cities and towns with clueless civilians that inhabited the horrific establishments. Remus just liked to go wild and have fun, y’know? Amp the scare factor up to a hundred.

(He also took pleasure in witnessing Roman’s fearful face whenever one of his creatures trespassed his land. The occasion was rare but when it happened, Remus merely laughed at Roman devilishly.)

Remus breathed out deeply. The skies above were littered with spirals, each thick cloud hypnotically whorling as it passed by. The wind was also visible, each breeze being represented with curls and scrolls. The night slightly resembled Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” but in monochromatic colors, making the sky appear to be a more depressing clone of the painting.

Additionally, surrounding the lake were an abundant amount of trees, each of their leaves curling at the corners. Sometimes, the trees would give into this spiral disease and coil up on itself like a centipede that was just stepped on. Some peculiar creatures also hid within the helical greenery, all of them taking a peek at Remus from time to time. Remus only recalled witnessing boulder-sized snails and a stretched out human-snake hybrid traversing through their forest for today, but Remus didn’t expect any of his creations to be any real threats to him.

If Remus was being honest, he had expected more creatures to appear. Usually, some of the ghosts that inhabited the lake would arise and stalk Remus creepily but they didn’t even come out to play. The tornado siren that usually resonated daily didn’t alarm either, and there were no ear-piercing shrieks and terrified screams he could hear from a distance. Despite his environment still being undeniably terrifying, it was still pretty tame compared to Remus’s past visits.

Remus sighed. It didn’t matter, he supposed. As long as the buzz from the lake distracted his thoughts and the hypnotizing spirals in the sky continued to drift, it would all be fine.

Spirals, spirals, spirals. Just like how he was spiralling right now. He chuckled at himself for the stupid connection; Logan really got him used to doing pointless word association games.

Word association games. Logan. His lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever.

Remus raised his arms to rub his tired face. The soaked sleeves of his hoodie dripped the water unto his cheeks. He really did not want to think about Logan and the possibility of him becoming a—

He splashed his arms back onto the water furiously as he furrowed his lip.

Remus was never one to anxiously overthink a problem. More than anything, he caused problems and issues, purposely terrorizing the others just because he enjoyed it. There was never a moment in his life he felt overwhelmed by an issue, especially when he was only partially involved. But this— this was different. The entire atmosphere of the Mindscape can shift, relationships can absolutely be tarnished and destroyed, and he didn’t even know how this issue could directly affect Thomas.

Remus sighed— this was a mess. A complete utter disastrous mess.

“Remus?” a voice called from afar. Remus’s eyes widened as he recognized its owner. “Remus, do you know how long it took to fucking find you?” they continued, sounding obviously aggravated.

“Jannie? You came to find me?” Remus hollered back, flipping over so he remained standing upright in the lake. There in the distance stood Janus whose hair looked incredibly dishevelled as his cape was almost in tatters.

“Of course, you cretin. You haven’t been in your room since four and didn’t even come to eat dinner.” Janus told him, clearly upset. Remus only blinked at him in surprise. Janus sighed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that you’ve been, er, floating about for ten hours straight?”

Remus shrugged mindlessly, only causing Janus to furrow his eyebrows. “What? Ten hours isn’t a big deal.”

“Remus.” Janus said scoldingly, holding a disappointed yet concerned gaze. “Have you eaten at all?”

“Been meaning to try the human-sized snails crawling around town. Did you know snails are rich in protein? Logan explained that some researcher in Africa or something discovered that eating snails could—”

“Again, have you eaten?” Janus interrupted.

“Does swallowing lake water count?” Remus asked.

“If you swim out of there, I’ll lend you some cake B made a while ago.” Janus said monotonically, and Remus quickly perked up.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place, double dicks?” Remus said with a grin. Instead of swimming out of the lake, he snapped his fingers and teleported himself to the empty spot next to Janus. Janus’s face remained stoic and unmoving at Remus’s unkemptness and wet clothes as Remus simply grinned at him maniacally, clearly excited to be given the dessert.

After sighing, Janus grabbed a tupperware hidden beneath his cloak. How it was held securely in the cloak was a mystery, but he still handed the cake to Remus. “It’s red velvet, since he wanted to cheer you up.”

“Cheer me up?” Remus said while removing the tupperware’s lid, “He’s been apologetic about his outburst for what, two weeks, three weeks now? I mean, I guess it’s okay to be a greedy bitch when the opportunity is right there, but I still feel spoiled. Spoiled like… food.” Janus eyed him weirdly, “Like that milk carton that we abandoned in our fridge for ten months… uhm…”

“Seems like your creative juices are running low.” Janus told him as Remus shoved half of the cake into his mouth, “Firstly, we both know B is just like that, and secondly, this cake wasn’t something he made to add to his apology streak— he’s worried for you.”

Remus scoffed, “Worried? Why should he be—”

“Remus, your room is in disarray.” Janus told him with a concerned tone as the corners of his lips tilted downwards, “We’re not going to tiptoe around the issue here, Remus. He said you left a conversation with Logan frowning and the voices in your room suddenly intensified. I’m— we’re worried for you.”

Remus averted his gaze from Janus, chewing on the cake silently and shamefully as he watched the achromatic trees dance in sync to the breeze. Even while looking away, he can sense Janus’s heavy, unfiltered concern, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, thinned lips, and nostrils slightly flared.

Even if Remus was fully aware that he could trust Janus and B wholeheartedly, Remus was still undoubtedly hesitant to confess what bothersome thoughts were floating around his head. Whenever Remus needed to ramble on about some stupid dilemma he had to Janus, he was always certain about the complexity of the problem and what it entailed. Pinpointing what his current issues were to Janus was usually not too difficult to do, but somehow, this was different.

His problem felt… convoluted. More complex than he needed it to be. There were a million rampaging thoughts in his head that couldn’t stop reminding him of different problems he couldn’t tackle all at once. Typically, he can find one problem that stood out amongst the rest, but presently, every identifiable problem seemed to be equally as dreadful as each other, leaving Remus incredibly perplexed. Being unable to pinpoint his main issue was further adding on to the multitude of problems he already had to deal with, and he was unsure of how he was going to explain all this chaos that was within his mind.

Remus felt his right arm being nudged. “Remus?” Janus spoke, causing Remus blinked thrice, not realizing he went quiet for a few minutes.

“Sorry,” replied Remus with a forced grin, shoving another piece of the cake into his mouth. The worry on Janus’s face manifested a feeling of guilt within Remus, gradually making him feel sorry that Janus had to put up with his patheticness.

“Remus, what time did you sleep last night?” Asked Janus, causing Remus to fiddle nervously with the skin around his fingernails. God, Remus regretted not bringing any sort of fidget toy or object for him to utilize— Logan’s going to scold him for this. “Actually, wrong question— it’s quite obvious that you didn’t sleep last night—”

“Don’t assume, Sweeney Fraud.”

Janus quirked an eyebrow, “Oh? Then, when did you sleep, my dear Mrs. Lovett?” Janus said confidently, fidgeting with his gloves as he did. Remus made a disgruntled expression, rolling his eyes at the question. He guessed there was no avoiding it now.

“I’m not good at math, but probably seventy to seventy-eight hours ago? Uhm. That’s three days, right?”

Janus placed his hand softly on the ground beneath him, “Remus, you couldn’t have possibly been awake for more than three days—”

“At least it wasn’t four whole days.”

“Remus,” Janus scolded him once more. Hearing Janus utter his name once more made him unexpectedly tense.

“What, seventy-eight hours is nothing compared to when we fucked for—”

Janus visibly grimaced, fists slowly clenching, “Ssssstop that,” he hissed, earning an entertained chuckle from Remus. “I don’t want to remember that— that phase we had.” he added, obviously flustered.

“But ah, that phase we had was just wonderful!” Remus exclaimed, doing a chef’s kiss. Janus’s hands flew to grip his hat and simply pulled it closer to his face, “Thomas’s teenage years were marvelously filled with hormone-induced fantasies and—”

“Remusssss—”

“God, we were such horny children back then, even if it only lasted for a week—”

“Remus!” Janus roared, looking excessively embarrassed at Remus, “I am not proud of the— the activities we did back then so can you please do me a favor and forget about that entire week—”

“Jannie, you already know that I bring this up annually just to piss you off.” Remus said with a smirk, “I mean, look at you— all crimson and flushed like when I—”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Janus yelled, “You’re insufferable.”

“And so I’ve heard,” Remus replied, grinning widely.

“All I wanted was to help you with your damn problems and all I get greeted with is a reminder of our horrid sex life when we were teenagers, thanks a lot.” Janus murmured, hands still clenching his hat in humiliation. Meanwhile, Remus’ grin faltered a bit upon realizing that right, they still had his problems to discuss.

“That’s what friends are for,” Remus replied, trying to mask his worry by winking at Janus enthusiastically. Janus merely rolled his eyes exasperatedly as a reply. “And I can handle my problems fine, J-anus. Just let me sulk here for another few hours, maybe I’ll duel one of those weird pregnant mosquito vampire creatures I’ve made—”

“—the what—?”

“—And maybe fall asleep around three or four? It’ll pass by then. I think. I dunno.” Remus finished with a nonchalant tone only to raise Janus’s suspicion. Remus froze at the sight of his disbelieving face— there was no chance in hell Remus would be able to lie in front of Janus, huh?

“‘You never pass the opportunity to vent when I ask you to.” Janus told him, consequently making Remus tilt his head in confusion. Janus sighed, “Well, I know you usually change the subject when I first bring it up, but upon the second or third request, you eventually do begin venting. What’s different about now?”

Remus was surprised that Janus had observed a pattern in their talks but was still unexplainably reluctant to share what was on his mind now. It would’ve been easier if he had Logan to talk to—he just made everything much easier, Remus didn’t know how that even worked—but Logan was involved with the issue and it just heightened his uneasiness even more.

“I— well,” Remus spoke, internally cringing at himself for the awful start, “God, I’ve been doing a lot of venting lately, is that even normal?”

“Better than duelling some pregnant vampire thingies or whatever the fuck you said earlier,” Janus replied, earning a half-smile from Remus.

“But I heard they put up a good fight, Jannie! Like, the townsfolk are saying they use drills as weapons while also having an insatiable thirst for blood—”

“Getting a little off-track here.”

“Ah— sorry.” Remus gave him an apologetic smile, “I’m just… very confused? Or anxious. Thoughts just swarm around my head like bees in a beehive and all of them keep buzzing,” Remus explained nervously. The tupperware and cake has long been abandoned as he continued to peel the skin around his fingernails instead, “And, uh, I don’t know where to start?”

“So you don’t know what’s bothering you?”

“Well, yes. And no.” Remus replied as he accidentally picked the skin around his thumb too harshly, causing a small trickle of blood to appear. Janus noticed this immediately, reaching out to pull Remus’s right hand away from his left.

“Don’t do that,” Janus instructed, causing Remus to huff at him agitatedly. Janus then sighed and unbuttoned his ruined cloak, handing it to Remus, “Some of your creatures clawed at the edges so you can play with the holes and loose threads instead if it means you’ll stop picking on your skin.” Janus explained, and Remus was about to protest until Janus continued, “I have more cloaks in my room, so destroy this one all you like.”

Remus gratefully accepted the cloak, following Janus’s suggestion and playing with the loose seams. “Thank you, uh,” Remus continued his tangent as he nervously pulled and plucked the strings, “Back to the thing— I kind of know what’s bothering me. Ish. Sorta kinda. Right now, I can probably identify ten— no, fifteen— or maybe twenty thoughts floating around that I could label as something contributing to my stupid dilemma.”

“But?”

“But I feel like there’s something I’m missing. A bigger problem I can’t seem to pinpoint— like that one episode Thomas made with the puppets! Er… I don’t know why I keep bringing up that one episode lately when honestly, it was such a terrible episode—“

“The Halloween one was worse, in my humble opinion.”

“Point taken. We could’ve made that episode ten times better, y’know? I feel offended they tried to make a scary episode without inviting us! If they really wanted to discuss Thomas’s embarrassing phases, we are quite the experts—“

“We’re getting off-topic again.”

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus said apologetically, “Where were we— oh right, the stupid bigger problem thing.” Remus huffed tiredly, “I feel so fucking bothered that I don’t know what’s bothering me which is making me even more bothered and more bothered and it’s just a fucking loop! A terrible cycle. A bothering one. Did I mention I’m so fucking bothered?”

“Then lay it on me.” Janus told him, and Remus tilted his head at him, slightly perplexed, “What I mean is— if we can’t identify the bigger problem at hand, then you can at least tell me about the problems you can identify. Maybe we can piece together what we’re missing here.”

“I swear to Jesus Christ that this is beginning to look like that puppet episode.”

“What’s your obsession with that damn puppet episode? We weren’t even in it.”

“I dunno, to be honest. I just like to shit on it a lot. Like, look at me, I have the same problems Thomas is having, yet I’m still villainized, for some goddamn reason. Maybe it’s the mustache? It’s gotta be the mustache.” Remus twirled the edges of his curled mustache as Janus merely shrugged.

“To be fair, you had a very violent introduction.”

“You know what? True. Probably should’ve gone with my ‘Breaking Through the Window’ plan—“ Janus opened his mouth, most likely about to interrupt Remus, but Remus immediately butted in first before he can be scolded again, “Yea, yea, I know, go back on topic, yadda yadda yadda.”

“I’m here to listen, so feel free to spill whatever you want to spill.” Janus replied, looking at Remus intently. Before Remus could express his lengthy spiel, he successfully ripped a certain portion of the cloak he was fiddling with. Sighing, he lowered the cloak, and gazed back at Janus. Janus was patiently waiting for him, and despite looking exhausted, Remus knew he was still going to listen. God, what did he do to deserve Janus?

“Well…” Remus started anxiously, twirling one of the loose threads between his fingers, “I already told you about the entire Logan ordeal.”

“Him becoming a—what’d they call it again—a ‘Dark’ Side?”

“Yep.” Remus affirmed, face scrunched up in discomfort, “Y’know like, I thought I’d be excited to see him here, but after much thought—which is funny since most of the time, I don’t overthink things—but anyway, after much thought, I just feel… dreadful. Like, this shit ain’t just Logan coming over here to visit. This has permanent consequences I didn’t even consider until now. I don’t even know how the other sides will react or— or if this’ll damage Thomas in any way.

“I know that Thomas would still be able to function— it isn’t like Logan is actually going to fade away or disappear. He’ll just be… neglected more. Gosh, his neglect is all my fault, isn’t it? I mean, I know that I should technically blame Thomas and the other sides for Logan’s gradual descent into becoming one of us, but maybe I should take part in the blame too since it’s my fault that he’s brought down here a lot. Maybe I— maybe I badly influenced him? Maybe his own problems and insecurities were created because of how much time he’s spent with me—”

“Now that’s—”

“Me, overthinking? Probably. But Logan is important to Thomas, he needs to be up there to be able to help Thomas the most. Maybe bringing him down here was a mistake on my part because now he’s just so willing to give up his position as a ‘Light’ Side. The other sides will condemn him, hurt him even more, villainize him like how I’ve been villainized. Logan’s going to get fuckin’ hurt because of my ass and I just, what, blindly allowed it to happen for the past few months? And now it’s too late to back out because, at any moment, he’s going to join us and all chaos will break loose.

“What if… what if him becoming part of our family is going to erupt a bigass fight between Logan and the others? Believe me, I’d love to see Logan go feral and slap the shit out of Patton, but I’m… scared? And it’s weird— I’m never really scared of anything. But I’m scared that there'll be a bigger divide between the ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ Sides because of… well, me. And I know not everything is entirely my fault, but it’s still partially my fault, so I still feel so fucking terrible.

“And speaking of more problems that are partially my fault— there’s also B I have to worry about— and you! Like, I’m dragging you both into this mess just because I fell in love with some fucking nerd and now the other sides will hate you even more. I mean, Thomas doesn’t even know B, but I know those other sides are going to pin the blame on someone else like they always do, so we’re going to be antagonized more. And I don’t even know if B and Logan get along! Like, for all I know, I’m tearing our own family apart, because as far as I’m concerned, B would murder Logan if he got the chance to. But I can’t force him to be nice because I know it’s valid of him to get mad at Logan for all the shit that went down in Thomas’s teenage years, but I don’t know if that’s just going to hurt Logan and— agh!”

“Remus,” Janus spoke softly, snapping him out of his hysteria. As Janus carefully placed his hand atop Remus’ forearm, Remus had realized that in the midst of his incohesive rambling, he had successfully torn Janus’ cloak apart with his bare hands. Moreover, his eyes didn’t seem like the only thing that felt like burning as his lungs felt like it was being set ablaze with how labored his breathing has become. He could feel his shoulder shudder after every two quickened breaths and his eye twitch after every third.

“Sorry, sorry, I—”

“Enough apologies, I need you to breathe in—” Remus took a shaky inhale, “—and tell me five things you see.”

“Wh-what is this, that Frozen episode of Sanders Sides—?”

“Five things you see, Remus.” Janus repeated himself sternly, not allowing Remus to joke his way out of this situation.

In return, Remus clenched his jaw tensely, averting his gaze from Janus to eye the scenery before him. As he fiddled with the destroyed cloak’s tangled loose threads, he spoke apprehensively, “Uhm. The lake, obviously, and its spirals. That tree in the distance that’s coiling up unto itself as its leaves are disintegrating, uhm—” Remus paused to even out his breathing before his heart decided to jump out of his chest involuntarily, “There’s a— some smoke? In the distance? I think it’s from a funeral— they’ve been having a lot of those here nowadays. And there goes a gigantic snail, trying to avoid being preyed on by— by that snake-human hybrid thing.” he finished as the snake-human hybrid pounced onto the defenseless snail, “Ah well, at least he tried.”

Once Remus looked back at Janus, he realized how horrified he must’ve been judging by his raised eyebrows and extremely thinned lips. He must’ve been trying his best not to question any creature he witnessed in this hellish side of the Imagination, and Remus felt flattered that Janus still remained by his side despite the horrific surroundings. Janus eventually shook his head and avoided gazing at the snail being eaten by the snake creature. “Apologies, er, four things you can feel?”

Remus’s grip on the cloak suddenly tightened, “Well, obviously the cloak. Uhm, it’s strings—” Remus wiggled his bare feet that laid on the ground, “I could also feel the grass and— and some water. I don’t think I’ve dried up just yet.”

“Three things you can hear?”

“The snake-human hybrid feasting on the snail it just killed—” Remus heard a muffled disgusted sound from Janus but didn’t comment on it, “The wind too— I think a tornado’s coming. And—” Remus successfully punctured another hole onto Janus’s ruined cloak, “—cloth being ripped. Sorry about your cloak.”

“Apology not needed. Two things you can smell?”

“Mold. I think it’s coming from the lake. And I think that’s—” Remus sniffed, “—smoke? Could be dead bodies. I dunno. Staying here for too long made me lose the ability to differentiate bad smells.”

Janus slightly winced at Remus’s statement but continued on, “One thing you can taste?”

“Red velvet mixed with gross lake water.” Remus replied, gazing at the abandoned tupperware on his left. His stomach grumbled at the idea of finishing the cake but his hands were too preoccupied with cloak shredding that he didn’t bother with it at all.

“I have told you before and I will tell you again: I’m not one to sugarcoat things, especially when false comfort is never going to bring you anywhere.” Janus explained as Remus nodded in understanding, “But, while these problems are quite terrifying to deal with, they also are manageable with enough time and patience. There’s no avoiding the fact that Logan is going to be part of our side of the Mindscape soon— we honestly should’ve seen it sooner after witnessing all the neglect he’s been receiving. But through thorough planning and careful conversations with B and hopefully, Thomas, we can understand that these problems aren’t too complex at all.

“We both may be figments of Thomas’s personalities, but we are also human, despite, you know, our weird animal traits. These thoughts swarming around your head like to overcomplicate situations when they might not be as awful as they seem. Again, they’re all defeatable after careful planning, and I assure you that you have my support along the way. B and Logan are also there to share their support. And I know B— we both know B— he’s impulsive, but he isn’t stupid. I’m sure B has already overheard about Logan’s transition to our side and is trying his best to adapt. And Logan loves you, Remus, he will plan something, I’m sure of it.

“And as for you… well, there’s no avoiding that we all are at fault for this entire scenario, but you, out of every side in the Mindscape, has probably contributed the least to Logan’s neglect. But it’d also be useless to dwell on the idea further when Logan’s just about to transfer any time soon. Just understand that while we have made some mistakes in the past, we’ve also grown from them and have changed. And while I can’t fully speak on Logan’s behalf, it’s quite obvious that you’ve made his life much happier.”

Remus smiled sourly to himself, slowly processing everything Janus had just stated to him. “Thank you, Jannie,” he said, earning a smug grin from Janus. “I guess I just needed some rest.”

“With how overwhelming your thoughts are at the moment, you definitely need to rest. I don’t think you’re used to having ten million problems at once.”

Suddenly, a metaphorical lightbulb flashed within Remus’s head, eyes widening at Janus’s statement, “I— wait. Hold on. Maybe that’s the problem here!”

“Not resting? Well, yes, technically—”

“No, you idiot! I forget you lose your brain cells from time to time.” Remus commented, earning an irritated huff form Janus. “What I mean is— I’ve never been used to handling so many issues all at once. Like I…” Remus snapped one string off the cloth, “For all my life, I’ve been so complacent. The only issues I’ve ever dealt with were my intrusive thoughts and my insecurities and then, well, Thomas started reaching out to us more and... there was a shift. You understand me, right? Like, everything felt like it was changing once Thomas began to rely on the other sides more.

“I was never involved in any heavy issue. More than anything, I cause many problems without giving a shit about the consequences! And then Logan happened and everything just changed again. I was so used to not caring about anything that when every problem just started stacking up, I was... overwhelmed. It made me feel like I was responsible for everything, every little issue, and I felt like I was going to ruin everything.”

“But you were just not accustomed to juggling different issues all at once?”

“Right,” Remus replied. They stayed silent for a few moments, Janus letting Remus ponder about his newfound revelation. While a dull sense of relief settled within Remus, there was still a sense of disappointment that lingered around. He couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all was. The problem was just so… childish. Immature. Really fucking dumb. For someone who nagged on incessantly about how pathetic Thomas was for pampering himself and his viewers constantly, Remus was being such a pathetic wimp himself.

“This was all so stupid,” Remus murmured, impassively staring off into the distance. “I’ve eaten four bottles of Vicks, I’ve killed three boars with my bare hands, fuck, I’ve tried recreating every monster from the SCP Foundation universe and tried to fight them all in a single arena! And yet this is what bothers me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Is it supposed to?”

Remus paused for a few, “Damn,” he said, slightly breathless, “you’re good at this. Can I hire you to be my therapist?” Remus joked, his lips forming a half-smirk.

“I thought I already was.” Janus replied, “I’ll expect payment in forms of self-care.”

Remus tilted his head with a displeased pout, “Ew. Too expensive— I never agreed to any of these terms and conditions. Can we rediscuss your bill policies?”

Before replying, Janus sighed and swiftly stood up. Remus gazed at him in confusion before Janus stretched out an arm in front of Remus, implying that he was going to bring him somewhere else. “Nope, and I think it’s time for you to start paying back.”

Remus’s eyebrows slanted inwards at the abrupt demand, somewhat urged to refuse Janus’s order immediately. Janus seemed to recognize Remus’s hesitance right away as he lowered his hand in annoyance, placing it on his hip.

“I don’t want to return to my room just yet.”

Janus quirked an eyebrow at him, “I didn’t say we were going to your room, Remus, I’m not a fool.” Janus explained, and that made Remus loosen up a bit. “I was going to ask if you want to sleep in my room for tonight.”

Remus’s eyes widened at the offer but was definitely not dismayed by the suggestion. Faint memories of him and Virgil discreetly sneaking into Janus’s room on sleepless nights flitted across his mind as a warm yet pleasant feeling of nostalgia bubbled in his chest. Remus reminisced about the times where Janus would tiredly extract the pull-out bed from underneath his own bed as he and Virgil would enthusiastically hop on the bed before Janus would sing them a soothing lullaby. While Virgil was mostly a taboo subject between him and Janus nowadays, those old memories still sparked some odd comforting feeling within Remus, and he couldn’t help but smile in fondness.

“Well,” Remus started, “why didn’t you begin with that, penis squared?” Remus added with a genuine grin, scrambling to get a hold of the torn cloak and the abandoned tupperware. Janus mirrored his smile, albeit slightly tired, and reached out again to pull Remus up.

Once up, Remus dusted off any dirt that soiled his green hoodie before standing next to Janus. “I’ll make sure to set up a playlist of soap crushing videos for you to fall asleep to. While I didn’t want to do much work, I did grab some pillows, plushies, and fidget toys in advance just so you don’t have to return to your room for the night. The only thing I can’t help you with is breakfast in the morning because even if I wanted to do something sweet, we both know that I’m a fabulous chef.”

Remus barked out a laugh, “I wouldn’t want you to cook anything for me either. I feed all your failed meal attempts to Cthulhu.”

“...Poor Cthulhu.”

“But still, thanks for everything else, mother.” Remus said, earning an eye roll from Janus, “Where would I ever be without you?”

“Probably dead in a ditch.”

Remus barked out another laughter, “To be fair, I think I’d rather be dead in a ditch than face any of the crap I’m dealing with now. I think the corpse germs would treat me far better than how Thomas is treating me now.” Remus joked in between forced laughs as Janus’s face quickly dropped. Remus’s laughter only stopped when he felt Janus’s scaly palm touch his forearm and thumb over it soothingly. Remus looked at his hand, then at Janus’s face. His eyebrows are knitted together in concern but his lips formed a small, calming smile.

“This’ll all pass soon, Remus. Everything will be okay,” assured Janus as Remus quietly blinked twice at the statement before his lip quivered involuntarily. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With glossy eyes, Remus nodded, “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #platonic dukeceit #intrulogical #fanfiction #my post

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infantbluee · 5 years

Photo

title: count to eight

summary: in another timeline, maka is killed on the moon and the world descends into madness. five years later, a reclusive soul stumbles across a girl who claims to be his dead best friend.

pairing: soul/maka

rating: explicit

warnings: angst, smut, canon-typical violence, sort of love triangle (though not really because it’s just between maka and two souls)

links: ao3 // ffn

—

oh my gosh, this is my second resbang fic ever and i still can’t believe i got so lucky! this year i was paired with the amazing, brilliant, hilarious, and adorable @ochako999 and @maevenneverland who had a full-time job making me laugh-cry over their shenanigans while also making GORGEOUS art for my fic. (links can be found here and here respectively.) please excuse me while i sob over their talent for the next 84 years because they are perfect.

even more hugs to my ridiculous discord family for keeping me insane, as well as all the other wonderful people i’ve met on tumblr, twitter, and even just by exchanging reviews on fanfics! there’s a reason i’ve been so glad i joined this fandom and it’s because of every single one of you that make it so warm <3

please enjoy the short excerpt below!

—

It’s surprisingly cold this year.

Soul blows into his hands, rubbing his palms together to retain warmth. Normally he can escape Kid’s annual Christmas party and hide out in the gardens without any sort of penalty, but apparently Mother Nature decided she was bored this holiday season and wanted to take a turn punishing the antisocial hermit.

That, or she’s calling him a coward.

It’s probably that last one.

“Hiding already?” a familiar voice calls. “This must be a record.”

Holding back a grimace, Soul maintains a blank expression as he turns his head to see his girlfriend approach him along the cobblestone path.

She’s too pretty to be real in this setting, surrounded by glazed tree branches and the twinkling lights strung all over to make up for the blackened moon. Wearing a dress like that with her hair so long and loose, she might as well have “serenade me, you coward” plastered all over her forehead.

“Idiot, you’re going to get frostbite,” he scolds instead, already scowling as he shrugs off his suit jacket to drape over her shoulders. “What are you thinking, coming out here without a coat on?”

Maka smiles sweetly. “I was thinking my weapon always takes care of me.”

Stupid. He thinks the word twice, both times so pathetically filled with affection. “Did Kid send you to hunt me down?” he asks. “I swear I was gonna go back inside. Continue wooing those foreign emissaries or whatever the hell he expects me to do. I just needed a break.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s Christmas; he doesn’t expect you to spend the whole time working.” Her eyes twinkle. “Besides, I already handled it. The dignitaries love me.”

He snorts. “Of course they do.”

“Hey, one of us has to be doing our jobs right,” she teases.

“Suck-up.”

“I prefer the term eager to please.”

Soul is incredulous. “How the hell did you manage to find the one phrase that’s dirtier than suck-up?”

Her smile is angelic. “It’s a talent.”

He responds with a growl as he nuzzles his face against her skin, his hands sliding under the jacket he covered her with to trace the artfully exposed curves underneath.

“Soul, stop!” she giggles. “We can’t do it out here. It’s cold.”

“So keep me warm then,” he grumbles. “And anyway, is that really the first thing you worry about when I’m trying to cop a feel? Not ‘oh, someone might catch us’ or ‘what if your dick shrunk too much in this weather for me to feel it?’”

This time when she laughs, he hides his own smile against her skin. She doesn’t stop him, letting her head fall back with a sigh as he presses kisses along the base of her neck. Even when it’s this cold, she’s so soft. It’s really unfair. He’s seen her moisturizing routine. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this level of silky perfection.

“Soul,” she gasps when he nips particularly hard at her throat. Her hands grip at his shirt, desperate, and he decides that maybe getting a little dirty on a garden bench wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.

But then the lights flicker.

That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to tear his mouth away from her skin, except that it’s accompanied by a deep tremble beneath the earth which causes Soul to stumble into his meister. She catches him, always so impressively steady on her size-five-hidden-by-giant-boots feet, and the speed at which she goes from horny girlfriend to calculating meister is seriously impressive.

And hot. Really hot.

Soul’s never been as adept at switching off his hunger as she is.

“A pre-kishin attack?” she asks with a frown as they rush back towards the party. It’s been a long time since they’ve encountered a pre-k without actively hunting one, and even longer since one has existed within the walls of their city.

“Maybe a demon,” Soul guesses. They’re also rare these days, but they still exist. Though the Witch Treaty has significantly put a damper on their confidence.

As they approach the mansion, they can already hear a commotion brewing. Plenty of shouts, glass shattering. A horrifying, almost unearthly slithering sound as fluid shadows spill out of the windows like overflowing bath water. They pick up their pace.

When they finally burst into the room, they’re horrified by the sight in front of them.

“Kid!” Maka cries.

The chandelier is history, now scattered around the dancefloor in a million tiny little pieces. The decorations are torn; the tables cracked and thrown about. The civilian guests have all been ushered to the sides of the room as several witches hold up a barrier to keep them safe, but the real terror is the enormous entity in the middle of the room that seems to have no problem fending off the advances of half a dozen meisters.

It’s like nothing Soul’s ever seen before, even during the worst of the war. A giant, oozing ball of shadowy flesh with these sharp, jerking limbs that regenerate and extend from its body whenever someone tries to attack it.

Accompanying it is this smell, putrid and awful—but even worse are the low, chittering moans coming from its repulsive form, over and over and over again, filling the room like a sickening hum.

“Maakaa. Maaaaaaaakaaaa.”

Soul feels his blood run cold.

Kid, who is currently trying to hold back several of its limbs from further attacking the civilian barrier, jerks his head up at her call for him, his face flashing with horror. It’s obvious how long the creature must’ve been moaning her name by the intensity of the reaper’s panic.

“Maka, get back!” he screams.

In the same moment, she gasps as Soul tackles her to the side just in time to avoid getting pierced by a flurry of sword-like limbs. He then rolls and grabs her hand, jerking her to her feet as he starts off in a sprint, squeezing to get her attention. “Maka!”

“R-right!”

He shifts into weapon form just in time for her to swing him in defense. She manages to block two of them, slicing off three more, before being forced to jump back as another wave rushes at her. The monster seems to have forgotten about the others completely now that it has her in its sight, its several dozen eyes turning to train directly on her.

“I don’t understand,” she says as she blocks more of its attacks. “Why does it keep coming for me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” growls Soul. “I’ll die before I let it take you. The only priority now is to kill it.”

“But how?”

“To your left!”

She twists to the side, barely dodging the next stream of violent hands as they scrape off Soul’s blade. But instead of relief, he can feel her horror, because those same regenerative limbs that had just tried to rip into her heart somehow jerk to the side with enough force to shatter one of the barriers protecting the guests.

He hears Angela among the screams.

“Maka, no!” he cries out.

Too late. She flips over one of the creature’s arms to run against it, slicing at the others with a ferocity that would impress him in any other circumstance. At the end of her sprint, Maka dives, pushing Angela out of the way from an attack and twisting in a way that cushions the young girl’s fall.

Through their bond, Soul can feel the pain shoot up Maka’s spine and he cries out for her, demanding to know if she’s hurt.

She forces a smile as she sits up. “I’m fine,” she lies terribly. She glances down at the young witch and looks relieved that she’s unharmed.

Before she can say anything else, she’s yanked away so quickly that Soul is literally whipped from her grip and clatters to the floor. He shifts back to human form in an instant, scrambling for her with a cry, but it’s too late.

The monster has Maka dangling by her ankle over its main form, the rest of its extensions retreating as well. Black Star and Kid both try to charge at it only to be swatted away like flies and held back with the pressure of mutated shadow limbs.

Then it does the worst thing possible.

It drops her.

“NO!” Soul screams.

It’s like a detonator is pressed. The moment Maka’s body is absorbed into its inky flesh, the creature begins to twitch a jerk violently, pulsing and moving so rapidly that even the meisters have no choice but to back up.

With a horrifying screech, it’s sucked into the earth through an invisible exit, like some sort of oversized blob of goo being sucked through a vacuum or forced down a drain. The whole fleshy monstrosity continues to be pulled through that tiny unseen gateway until it has completely disappeared from the ballroom. Gone.

And Maka along with it.

[ read more on ao3 or ffn! ]

#soul eater #soul x maka #soma #soul eater evans #maka albarn #resbang 2019 #chloe writes #this was the most stressful forty-eight hours of my life and i am so glad we made it T___T

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sherlollydramoine · 5 years

Text

Take It Out On Me

This is a song fic inspired by Florida Georgia Line’s “Take It Out On Me”. I highly suggest you listen to the song first before you read this fic, as the contents of the song will help give more context for this story, though it isn’t a requirement. Here’s a link X to a youtube lyric video for the song.

Thank you to @r-ahh-mi and @xmxisxforxmaybe for the feedback on this, and to you ladies in the Discord server. XOXOXOXO

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), mentions of abuse, cheating, some language, drug use mention, angst, and a lot of love.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve found yourself standing here at almost midnight, knocking on his door, but things with your boyfriend Ryan were going to shit again and you needed him tonight. Him, your best friend since childhood, and sometimes lover. On nights like these you didn’t know where else to go or who else you could turn to when things at home were going to hell. No matter what was going on in your life he was always there for you. He was always telling you that you didn’t need to call, that you could show up anytime you needed him.

It only took a few knocks before you saw a light turn on inside the door, heard the lock click and the door swung open. His eyes were tired from the sleep that you had obviously disturbed but his smile bright as you stepped inside. He said nothing, he rarely does, his eyes just drinking in your appearance. The red and puffy eyes a clear sign that you’d been crying recently along with the shadow of a bruise beginning to form on the side of your face, told him everything he needed to know, the reason you’d come back tonight. Visits like these were becoming more frequent as of late, and yet he never complained about the lateness of the hour or the state of your appearance when you showed up.

After quietly shutting and re-locking the door he reached out to help you slide your coat off your shoulders taking it out of your hands as he hung it on the hook by the door right next to his.

“Rami-I-I-.. He.” you struggled, trying to find your words as you choked back tears that you didn’t want him to see fall. You know it killed him to see you upset for any reason but he hated how badly you were always hurting because of your current boyfriend. He was well aware of how fucked up your relationship with Ryan was, but he never expressed an opinion that you didn’t ask for and he never gave you the “you’ve got to leave” lecture. He was always just there, just like tonight, with open ears, open arms, and an open bed.

You felt him put his hand on your shoulder, such a simple touch but it meant everything to you. He never pressed for answers because he never asked questions, and you never understood why. Maybe because he wanted you to choose whether you are ready or not to talk about whatever was on your mind, or perhaps there was another reason. You were never quite sure.

You spun around and threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. This moment, the one you both knew was coming the real reason that you showed up at his house at nearly midnight on Tuesday.

You needed him. Just like you always do.

You pull your body away from his and smile up at him.

“Rami, baby, I need you. I need you so bad. Noone has ever made me feel like you do. Can I have you tonight? Please?” your eyes pleading and tone taking on one of desperation.

“Of course baby. I told you that I will always be here when you need me. I’m a shoulder for you to cry on and you can take it all out on me in any way that you need to.” he gently spoke, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand gently cupping the non-bruised side of your face. His kisses were always the kind that leave your knees weak and your core a throbbing mess.

You barely register that you were both moving towards his bedroom, but you didn’t mind. This is what you came here for, what you almost always came here for these days.

His gentle, strong hands quickly helping you shed your clothing, as your hands found their way to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Pulling them down hard enough that they slide down his legs, before he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock, but he moves your hands away, as he softly lays you down on the bed.

”What do you need from me tonight my love?” he quietly asks.

“Just love me. Please. Just love me.” you plead. Already desperate for his touch, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the feel of his body on yours. The way he always makes you feel so good. Nearly bursting into tears, your eyes search his before his lips descend on yours once again.

You feel his hands at your hips, ghosting their way down your thighs, before his hands find your center.

“So wet for me already my love. I’m going to make you feel really good tonight.” he smirks as his fingers find your clit.

He always makes you feel good and he knew it, but his reassurance and confidence in his ability to love you the way you crave was always welcome.

Your back arches off the bed as pleasure begins to course through your body. His touch firm, yet gentle, because you asked for him to love you. Sometimes you ask him to hurt you, which he doesn’t like but he obliges any way. You know he’d do anything you ask of him even if he didn’t understand it or like it.

“Oh God… Rami.. yess..please..” you whine as his deft fingers continue to work you.

You felt it coming like a freight train, there was no stopping it even if you wanted to, as your orgasm washed over you, coming completely undone for him, and only him, his name spilling from your lips like a chant, bouncing off the walls in the late night silence of the house. Opening your eyes to watch his face, the little self-satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Ready?” he inquired, still wearing that beautiful smile that he was known for.

Your response was to place your hands on his hips in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

You felt him grab your hips and pull you to him lifting your hips just slightly, as he guided himself into you, letting out a low moan as he slid into your wet folds.

“Oh God Y/N. You are so tight.” he whines out, as his hips begin to move his strong hands firmly but not roughly gripping your hips.

You watch his face as he keeps moving his eyes shut tight as his breath catches.

“So beautiful. You’re so beautiful. God you are so perfect Y/N.” he continued with his stream of consciousness musings, his breath hitching every time his hips meet yours.

His words hitting your heart and making you feel like the most loved person in the world as his moans fill your ears. Just as much pleasure as he gives you, you know that deep down you give him the same pleasure in return.

“Oh God Rami, please baby don’t stop. You make me feel so good.” you said while bucking your hips against his, urging him to move a little faster. Your fingers running through his hair before lightly sliding down his neck, across his shoulders and down his back. Wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to marginally change the angle, both of you letting out a deep moan into each others ears.

His hips pick up the pace and you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your lips at the blissful feelings his movements are causing.

“Oh baby… yess….” throwing your head back closing your eyes and giving into the simple pleasure that he is creating with every thrust of his hips.

“Baby I’m close… so close.. Oh my god” you cry out, his hands sliding into yours as he continues his moving his hips.

“Cum for me baby. Let me hear you. Say my name…” he begs you.

Only a few seconds later the dam of feelings and pleasure that was building low in the pit of you stomach, released and you cried out “Oh… Ohhh.. Rami.. yes… Rami… Rami..” repeating his name like a mantra as you clench around him, the flood of wetness slicking your thighs as he followed shortly after, painting your walls with his warmth, as he chanted your name over and over, until he collapsed on top of you.

Your sweaty bodies tangled together as you both come down from your high, you whispered the words that you had been biting back for way to long but wouldn’t have the courage to say except in the throes or the aftermath of passion.

“I love you.”

He rolls off of you, but pulls your body close to his chest, as he buries his face in your hair. All you can hear is him mumbling something in arabic, but you’ve no idea what it is. Anytime he speaks to you in arabic and you ask what he’s saying his will just smile conspiratorially and tell you that you don't need to know.

You find yourself slowly falling into a sleep that you didn’t think that you would, and so rarely get. The kind of sleep brought on by satisfaction, safety, comfort and just general contentment. Your face is buried in his chest as he runs his fingers down your back in a sweet and soothing manner. You can feel the deep hum and vibrations of his voice through his chest as he continues his musings in arabic. His secrets were his to keep after all, but one day, you’ll make him tell you what he means. Your eyes closing at the soothing sound of the beautiful words leaving his lips and the warmth of his body pressed so closely to yours. Just before you completely fall under the spell of sleep you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what heaven is like, because you don’t ever want to leave if it is.

You awake a few hours later, still pressed closely to his body his arms wrapped around you, hating this part with every fiber of your being. The leaving. This was the part that always tore your heart into pieces but it’s the inevitable conclusion to your nights together. You slowly untangle yourself from him and shiver at the coolness of the air, quietly pulling yourself out of bed to find your clothes. The tears that you didn’t want to began to silently run down your cheeks, knowing that what awaits you at home was not going to be pleasant. Fighting with yourself and resisting the urge to crawl back into the bed.

Once you’ve re-dressed you lean down and kiss his forehead and whisper,”I love you” as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Grabbing your jacket off the hook and letting yourself out; you can’t stop the sobs from escaping as you sit behind the wheel of your car.

You’ve tried for too long to let yourself believe the lie, that you didn’t care that it was just sex, but it wasn’t. You were in love with your childhood best friend and you continually complicate your own life by allowing yourself to take out all of your hurt and pain on him that was caused by your relationship with Ryan. Forcing yourself to swallow back the tears, you start your car and drive yourself home.

A week later you made a realization, something huge that was going to irrevocably change your life, you decided after another blow up with Ryan that you were done. He had hit you for the last time, you didn’t deserve what was continually happening to you all because he kept choosing to get high. You were done fighting for something that in the end really meant nothing.

After Ryan slammed the door to your small shared apartment you went to your closet, grabbing your backpack and began shoving random and essential items into it. You can’t live like this anymore. Escape was the only thing on your mind, as you haphazardly threw whatever would fit into your backpack and small suitcase.

Closing the apartment door behind you, not bothering to lock it you sprinted to your car, too eager to put the shame and pain of Ryan behind you. In tears, you drove yourself fifteen minutes to the one place that you needed. You needed him. Seeking the comfort that you were so desperate for, and knowing there is only one place you’d find it.

Pulling up outside his house, you almost started to cry when you realized that the house was completely dark. Either he was in bed already, or he wasn’t home and your stomach began to flip flop with nerves. Shakily getting out of the car you walked to the front door, ringing the doorbell and knocking, hoping against hope that he was just in bed early. You waited anxiously for far too long, before the tears began again and you slumped against the front door, before sliding to the ground body wracked with sobs. He wasn’t home, at the one time you needed him more than ever, and a part of you started to feel angry. It wasn’t his fault though, he had a life outside of you, and he had to live it just the same as you had to live yours.

You decided to pick yourself up off the ground, and with whatever dignity you had left you climbed down the steps of the front porch and started walking back to your car. The feelings swirling inside of you like a storm brewing, unsure of what to do except cry because as of late that seems to be the only way you are able to deal with anything when you were temporarily blinded by the headlights of a car pulling into his driveway.

The car stopped and you heard the window rolling down before you heard him speak.

“Y/N?” he asked confusion on his face. “Baby are you okay?”

You couldn’t respond with any words, running a hand through your hair the tears began again. You hear the garage door opening and his cars engine turn off. Unable to register anything else until you felt his arms wrap around you you sank into his chest as the tears kept flowing.

“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll fix us a drink.” he stated as his hand slid into yours and he guided you into the garage and through the door. Flipping on a few lights as he went you both ended up standing in his kitchen in silence for a few moments before he spoke up again.

“What’s your poison baby? Vodka right? I’m sure I still have a bottle in the freezer.”

“I can’t drink.” you mumbled, with a casual shrug of your shoulder as you took a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

“Why?” he inquired his eyes intensely focused on you.

“Because… I’m…. I.. Rami I’m fucking pregnant.” you stutter out, tears stinging at your eyes threatening to spill for the millionth time in the last however many hours had passed.

The shock on his face barely registered before he it was replaced quickly with sadness followed by concern.

“How can I help you? Do you know what you want to do?” his body stiff and bordering on closed off.

If you didn’t know him so well you’d almost feel safe venturing a guess that he was angry. Until you realize that he had no way of knowing the truth until you felt brave enough to confess to him the one agonizing truth that could either make or wreck your entire world.

“I swear babe, I’m not great with words you know this. I don’t always express myself clearly or concisely. Rami, I’m not aborting this baby because this baby means everything in the world to me; it was made out of love, not in a place a pain or hurt. I think you misunderstand what I’m trying to say Rami. The truth is that Ryan and I haven’t had sex in months. He’s been too strung out on drugs to be able to even get it up and.. and… this baby isn’t his, it’s yours. You are the only man I’ve been with in any sexual capacity in months. So please, don’t be angry with me, I just found out about this a few days ago when my period decided not to show up.” you couldn’t bear to look at him as you were speaking out of fear of rejection. This isn’t exactly the kind of truth that is easy to tell.

Nearly falling out of your chair at the sudden sound of shattering glass you lift your gaze upward in Rami’s direction to ascertain that everything was in fact alright, and you fight the urge to let out a bark of laughter when you realize that he had simply dropped the glass he was holding because he was in shock.

“Rami?” you try to coax him to blink, move, speak or something.

“Huh..Are you… are you.. Did you.. Is this for real?” was all he managed to stutter out.

A head nod from you and a small tentative smile, and before you realize what was happening you found yourself yanked out of your chair and enveloped in his arms as he cooed something you didn’t understand into your hair. The waterworks you’d once again been trying to dam up were obviously at this point going to be never ending tonight. Letting yourself relax in his arms you let out a loud sigh of relief and a small bark of laughter.

“Rami?”

“Yes, my love?

“Love me, please.”

“Gladly.” he smiles as he grabs your hand and starts to pull you towards his bedroom.

“No, Rami that’s not what I meant. I guess what I should have said is. Well..I...I love you Rami. So fucking much that I hated what I was doing to you. I hated myself for going back to him. I’ve only ever wanted you for a long time now, but I just... I never thought that you would ever want me like I want you. I pray for a forever with you. It wasn’t until last week after you made love to me, and afterwards you said something to me in arabic. Well I committed it to memory and asked my neighbor what it meant, and she smiled and said ‘I love you.’ I cried as I was leaving because my heaven Rami, is in your arms. I don’t care where we are or what we are doing, I just want you. Is it true? Do you really love me? I’ve known you since we were so young and I’ve… I...I’ve known for a long time that you are the only man I’ve ever really wanted. I just.. You are so beautiful and I guess I just never entertained the thought that it could ever be possible that you would love me the way that I love you”

You almost started crying again until you feel his hands on your chin lifting your face to meet his eyes. He brings his lips to yours and then threads his fingers in your hair. You almost stumble into him before your kiss turns heated. The burning desire that his kisses always leave suddenly flared and your whole body felt like you were standing in the center of a bonfire. He pulls his lips away from yours and with a pout you watched him intently as he began to confess his feelings.

“Y/N, my love, oh my love, I have wanted you since we were 5. You can ask my mom and brother, I swear it. I told them both when I was 5 years old that I would marry you someday. Sure we’ve been with other people and we’ve had some difficulties along the way, but all that matters is that we are here now, living in this moment, together. I love you, only you, and will only love you until the day I die. Will you be mine forever? You deserve so much more than I could ever give you, but I will always do my best to take care of you, to provide for you, to build a life with you. I want to make you my wife and I want to have this baby with you because our little bean, we made it together, in love “ his eyes shining with love and tears, as a few began their descent down his gorgeously olive complexed cheeks.

Caught in a moment, here with him, you couldn’t have asked for better; all you could do was barely squeak out a, “yes, I’ll marry you.” before his lips crashed into yours for a bruising kiss.

“Take me to bed and love me. Help remind me how me accidentally made our small bean.” you smirk.

Rami’s expression changed and you watched his eyes darkened with lust, biting his lip before a devilish smirk crossed his face.

“Oh I’ll certainly do that and more. I’m going to devour you.” he smirks before he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder. Your screech of protest was swiftly quieted with a light tap to your ass, as you dissolved into a fit of giggles on your way to the bedroom.

Once your destination was reached he tossed you onto his bed.

“Baby if you think I was joking about devouring you, you are in for a special treat, because I meant it.” his eyes dark in the low light of the room, as he positioned his body between your thighs.

You let out a little moan of anticipation as his body moves to cover yours and his lips catch yours in a sweet kiss. His hands roaming every inch of your body as if it were the first time he’d ever felt your curves under him. Your shirt is hastily disposed of, followed quickly by your bra while his hands cup both your breasts and his thumbs gently tweak your nipples. His lips find that sweet spot on your neck which causes you to cry out and buck your jean clad hips into his, while he softly chuckled into your ear at your reaction to him.

His lips managing to find every sweet spot on your body before he finally reaches your hips. His grip releasing you as he works your jeans undone, and then slowly begins to slide them down your legs, along with your panties.

Squirming in anticipation of his next move you let out a loud whine because of his lack of attention to your body.

“So needy tonight aren’t you?” he teases as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere, his pants suffer a similar fate as his shirt did, but you could care less. The man you loved was completely bare in front of you, and you could spend hours just admiring his beautiful body.

“Always needy for you baby, always. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I used to touch myself to my thoughts of you.”

He raises a brow before his face split into a grin, as he roughly grabbed your hips and pulled your body closer to the edge of the bed. Placing your legs over his shoulders his face disappears between your thighs. You yelp in surprise as he nips at your thigh, and before you can say anything you feel his mouth on your clit.

You couldn’t help your reaction this time, as your hands came down to fist themselves in his hair, while his mouth continues to work your clit as a couple of his fingers find their way between your slick folds. Loudly moaning and rocking your hips against him desperately seeking more friction. His free hand lands on your hip to hold your hips steady as he continues his assault on your dripping pussy.

Tightening your grip on his hair as you feel your body speeding towards the orgasmic high you’ve been craving. The rush of endorphins, the sweet high of an orgasm, which is something only he has ever been able to give you. He was unaware of that fact but in your mind it further cemented the belief that the two of you were meant to be.

In mere minutes he had you completely undone, legs trembling against his shoulders as you came with a strangled cry of his name. Feeling his tongue lapping up all of your juices as if he were a starving man, and this was the first meal he’d had in ages.

Regaining coherent thought with still trembling legs you decide that you want to repay the favor.

“Rami love, come here, I want to suck you off. You’re amazing and I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I would love to let you do that my love, tonight, it’s about you and only you. Right now all I want is to bury myself in you, and watch your face and body come apart under me. It’s an extraordinary thing to watch and I want to relish in that pleasure.”

Whining you give in to his gentle touch as you lay back down for him. As common as it is, missionary is one of your favorite position with him because as much as he loves watching you come apart you love watching him.

His hands grip your hips a little more roughly than usual as he lines himself up with your entrance, he teases you with his tip before he fully seats himself in you. Your whines and moans are all the encouragement he needs as begins to move at a steady pace.

His fingers intertwined with yours as his thrusts become a little faster.

“Yesssss… yessssss… please baby.. Oh God.. don’t stop ...please … don’t stop… oh God… fuck... Rami… Rami…. I love you.. I love you… I love you… I love you….” became your mantra.

Bodies slick with sweat your eyes catch his, just holding his gaze as he moves within you.

Suddenly he leans forward and wraps his arms around you pulling your body to his chest as his thrusts increase in their intensity. Forehead to forehead your lips find each others as he swallows your moans and you swallow his. Feeling the beads of sweat running down between your bodies, breathing heavy as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm forming in the pit of your stomach.

Without warning your walls begin to clench around him, as you scream out his name over and over. His eyes screwed tightly shut you feel his hips begin to stutter, his beautiful mouth forming an ‘O’ shape as he empties himself within you.

His body relaxes as does yours, as he lands on the soft mattress beside you your body still pressed tightly to his with him still twitching inside of you and you still clenching around him.

Neither of you able to speak, you just enjoy the bliss of being tangled up together, you feel your eyelids start to droop as you rest your head on his chest. The still thundering sound of his heartbeat and his breathing soothing you into dreamland, while his fingers gently comb through your hair.

“I love you so much Y/N. I love you. I know you are falling asleep and this probably the worst time to tell you, but I know you are always inquisitive when I speak to you in arabic. Well I’m going to tell you now. Usually all I say is that I love you with all my heart, and that I wish you would let me love you forever, but I understood if you didn’t, so I’d let you use me as often and in whatever way you needed. I never want to see you unhappy so I’d do whatever I could to keep a smile on your face. My heart breaks for you every time you cry. But for now, please sleep and know that I’m here and I will do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

He knows you heard when he realizes that you fell into dreamland with a smile on your face and your face face nuzzled into his warm chest. Squeezing you tightly he breathes in the scent of you as he drifts off to sleep himself.

@xmxisxforxmaybe @free-rami @itsme690 @txmel @lablanchett @mister-owls-cupcake @rami-malek-trash @mrhoemazzello @doing-all-write @ramimedley

THIS PART ONE OF THREE PARTS FOR THIS STORY

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek smut #Rami Malek fanfiction #Rami Malek story #rami malek reader #Rami x reader #rami malek fic #rami malek blurb

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shkspr · 5 years

Note

Uuuh please tell us about your love triangle fic concept???

okay i am SOOOOO sorry for how long this got fdkjlfdljk i literally just copy/pasted a bunch of rambling i did in the discord several months ago and i guess it was more rambling than i thought. anyway long version below but if you want the short rundown of the Dynamics at play in this love triangle, read these posts and these short funnies:

1 2 3 4

gabriel and crowley bonding over what a bastard aziraphale is? while still also hating each other a lot? chef's kiss. very jacob & edward in that tent in eclipse

even if az could carry on some sort of Thing with both of them at the same time it still wouldn't be a two hands situation it would be like. crowley has both of az's hands and also his heart and mind and soul, and gabriel gets to occasionally be near him

gabriel: So, Aziraphale, Wh - / aziraphale: [checking his watch] listen do you want to fuck or not because i've got shit to do

gabriel can kiss my ass with the sole exception of how delightfully stupid he is. i have taken him under my wing and made him a big gay idiot instead of the big rude idiot he is in canon.

az & gabriel only works for me in the scenario where gabriel is enthusiastically into az & az puts up with him on occasion when he's bored and horny. there's no romance or even friendship potential there

i like to think that az and gabriel used to have a friendly workplace rapport and gabriel was actually one of the least unbearable angels to be around during the rare times when az had to interact w/ other angels face-to-face but then when az started to recognize his feelings for crowley and his distaste for the way that heaven handles things, he started to kind of pull away and gabriel noticed and that's when he was like wait do i like aziraphale? and then he tried to talk to az about it and az was like oh. uh. hmm. i don't think so, honey.

and gabriel did not like being turned down and over the years watching az & crowley together he's just gotten more and more bitter to the point where he's now an insufferable douchebag but especially to aziraphale bc they both try to pretend none of that ever happened but they both Know and it's super awkward and gabriel covers for it by being even more of an ass.

i'm also imagining like. aziraphale giving in to gabriel and allowing something physical to happen right after he's had a big fight with crowley. like aziraphale trying to convince himself he doesn't need crowley, he's got plenty of other people to fraternise with, obviously, and he's trying so hard to not be heartbroken that he edges a bit too far into Emotionless territory, starts something with gabriel and he's cold and not nice about it but gabriel wants it so bad and aziraphale needs a distraction and neither of them are aware of what it means to the other.

gabriel is so wrapped up in the angelic notion of being worshipped and praised that he doesn't understand why aziraphale doesn't want that, because he'd give him that, he'd sit through every magic trick and he'd clap and he'd love it and he doesn't get it! he doesn't get that aziraphale is fundamentally a person and he doesn't want a partner who worships him he wants someone who knows him and loves him and tells him when he's being embarrassing and when he's being ridiculous and when he's being a bastard.

gabriel is... a fan. gabriel is a Fan of aziraphale when aziraphale needs a Friend.

we've talked about aziraphale and gabriel having this fucked up unrequited crush casual sex thing and that being why gabriel is so personally hurt by aziraphale's betrayal, right.so i'm imagining gabriel being like. well, this is the end, right, aziraphale's going to be gone, forever, and he's angry but he's spent enough time around humans and around aziraphale to know what regret is, and he knows he'll regret it if he doesn't say something.

so he just nips in before the whole hellfire deal, just tells the others to wait in the hall, i just need to have a few words with the traitor before he dies. and he goes in and. confesses? yells? cries? propositions him, one last fuck for old times' sake?

only like. that's crowley. it's crowley and he looks like aziraphale and gabriel thinks he's aziraphale but he's crowley.

and i'm imagining in this scenario, crowley never knew about the thing between gabriel and aziraphale, never found out about it because aziraphale was always too ashamed, and crowley and aziraphale still haven't let their six thousand years of tension come to a head, so now crowley's finding this out and he has to react as if he's aziraphale and then proceed with the whole not-dying thing

crowley tears up a little bit and he says something appropriately bitchy but his voice breaks on it just a bit and gabriel is like. oh maybe he gets it! does he get it? does he understand how hard this is for me? finally?? and then everything is Wrong and he's like i don't know i don't know what's happening i don't know what to do

but the whole time crowley’s dying on the inside, trying to convince himself that gabriel was fucking with him, gabriel was just saying things he thought would get aziraphale upset, none of that actually happened. but he's not very convincing. and then when they see each other again, what is he supposed to do? is he meant to pretend he didn't find this out?

and with aziraphale decidedly not dead, what is gabriel going to do with the fact that he poured his fuckin heart out? sure, heaven and hell are going to leave them alone, for a bit, but gabriel is different, isn't he? surely, he thinks, he must be different. and with aziraphale not dead, now he has to actually process all his feelings, and decide how to proceed with their not-relationship

so like. big angst on gabriel's part, HUGE angst on crowley's part, aziraphale caught between a rock (an archangel who hates him but also loves him and also wants him dead and also wants to keep casually fucking him and also wants to marry him a bit) and a hard place (a demon who's been in love with him for six thousand years and just inadvertently found out that he's been sleeping with someone else for several hundred of those years and is deeply, deeply hurt over it)

gabriel pictures crowley and aziraphale down on earth, laughing at him, mocking his unrequited feelings, or he pictures them happy together, never thinking twice about him at all. and he thinks about how aziraphale never really wanted him, never wanted anything to do with him, was always just using him and he knew it on some level and he let it happen because he needed to be near aziraphale. and he thinks, surely a demon can't love him the way i can, surely he doesn't have the pure and bright and clean love inside him that i have. does aziraphale need him, the way i need aziraphale? is that what's going on here? and then he dreams, he wouldn't call it dreaming but he dreams of rescuing aziraphale, even though he knows that's not what he wants, he knows that aziraphale has something with crowley he could never have with gabriel, but he can pretend, he can hope, that aziraphale might open his eyes someday and see him there.

and aziraphale being sort of. not afraid, per se, but. he must know, on some level, that gabriel's feelings for him are a big part of the reason he's alive. and he doesn't want to crush gabriel, because he doesn't want to be cruel, but also because he doesn't want to burn that bridge, as tenuous and reluctant a bridge as it is, because he doesn't know what will happen if gabriel really truly gets over him and decides he doesn't care if aziraphale dies

and az is like. it's just practical, crowley, i don't see what the issue is. and crowley is like..... he has FEELINGS, angel.

crowley's like....... i'm literally The Authority on being in love with you, and i say this from six thousand years of experience: it fucking sucks. loving aziraphale and not being loved back? or, not knowing if you're loved back? it's the worst pain imaginable, and i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and you know i'm not exaggerating because gabriel is literally my worst enemy.

az: excuse me, my love, my sweet, my dearest one, are you fucking siding with gabriel over me? / crowley: i'm just Saying, i can empathize with his plight / az: empathize with my plight for a moment, please, imagine gabriel never fucking leaving you alone, ever. / crowley: i don't leave you alone either! the only difference is that you love me back! that's not his fault!

az: crowley you don't understand.... he's so enthusiastic about everything, it's so irritating. / crowley: angel what are you talking about. / az: he practically BEGGED me to let him eat me out. Ugh. / crowley: y. you. what? he. you're upset because he wanted to? go down on you? w. what??

aziraphale is so hurt and when he's hurt he gets defensive and so he's trying to justify how he's treated gabriel, while crowley's deep deep deep in his own mind, remembering every time he's been a pest in the same way that aziraphale has just admitted he hates

eventually aziraphale pulls enough teeth that crowley explains it fully: "everything you've said you hate about gabriel, that's all stuff that i do, that's all me. i follow you around, i ask questions, i care about appearances, i act like i know everything, i don't like to eat, i want to be near you all the time. and you've just told me that's unbearable. that you hate gabriel, because he's exactly like me."

and aziraphale softens, softens so much he's practically a puddle. looks at crowley with the biggest, most pitying eyes. and he doesn't feel like he can properly characterize what makes crowley so different, so unlike gabriel. because it's true, he has to admit, those similarities are there, but he's never wanted crowley to go away. he's never wanted crowley to want him less.

gabriel's questions are... judgey. even when he doesn't mean them to be. even when he wants to learn, for real, about humanity, to get closer to aziraphale. his questions are always... they have this undertone of "i don't understand this, but that's only because i have been worrying about more important things." and when aziraphale tries to explain food to him, or alcohol, he just doesn't get it. and he tries his best to pretend that he could maybe be on his way to getting it, because he thinks the not getting it is the biggest obstacle between him and aziraphale, but he'll never get it and he doesn't really want to?

when crowley asks questions, it's because he's thought about it. it's because he's thought about it a LOT and he needs now to talk about it. and aziraphale likes that, because when crowley asks him a question, he's not looking for an answer, he's looking for. a conversation. and a bit of support. when crowley asks a question, he wants aziraphale to tell him yes, it's okay to be unsure about this, i'm unsure too, let's work it out together. but when gabriel asks a question, he wants aziraphale to tell him you are good for wanting to know this, and here is a straightforward answer.

#long post -#sex t --#gomens #Anonymous

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moiraineswife · 6 years

Text

Between The Boundaries Of Control - A Clayleb Fic

back at it with the Sad Caleb fics, this time with our good soft tea-making cow cleric!! first attempt at clayleb so be gentle please!

Thanks to my Clayleb discord buddies for encouraging the writing and then posting of this, it wouldn’t exist without y’all <3

Title: Between The Boundaries Of Control

Summary: Episode 49-50 missing scene. Since Caduceus was a little preoccupied during Caleb’s confession to the party about his past as Bren, and his relationship with Trent Ikithon, Caleb thought it was only fair to sit him down and catch him up on what he missed.

The drinking of tea, the exorcising of demons, and the discussing of theology transpires as a result. Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Pain. General tws applicable to Trent. There’d be some heavy stuff ahead, beware. Split POV.

Teaser: For all the mud, and clothes, and bandages he was hidden behind, Caleb had rarely felt as naked as he did standing alone in a room with Caduceus Clay. There had been a time that realisation would have terrified him. Now, faced with someone it was impossible to lie to, he found a different way to be, and breathed for the first time since he’d woken. There was some magic to the firbolg, a quiet, hidden kind, perhaps gifted to him by his goddess. It was the magic of hidden pools in deep, ancient forests, older than the world itself, and seemingly untouched by any until the finder’s eyes alighted upon it. The magic of the tall, swaying Zemnian fields he had played in as a child, the stalks towering above him, surrounding him, swaying above him. They had seemed so giant to such a small boy. In that moment, they had filled the entire world for him. Nothing existed but their smell, the sight of them dancing before him, the soft whispering music they played with the wind, and the blanketing sky that lay heavy above them. Yet he had never been afraid there. He had had every right to have felt fear. But he never had. They were his. They were safe. They were home. Somehow, Caduceus made him feel the same way.

Link: AO3

“Mister Clay?”

Caleb had knocked gently on Fjord and Caduceus’ door and pushed it open after hovering there, preparing himself, for several minutes. Given how perceptive the firbolg was, he was fairly certain he knew that, but he was polite enough to give a little start of surprise before turning to face him.

“Hi,” he said, face relaxing into that comfortable smile, his voice its usual slow, calming tone.

He didn’t bother lowering the volume of it, despite the hour, or the fact the rest of the nein were now asleep. Both of them knew that Fjord slept as soundly as the dead of Caduceus’ graveyard. And rather more so than Caleb’s.

Caleb tried to open his mouth, but something seemed to have stolen his voice between being behind the closed door to having opened it. In the dark quiet stillness of the corridor, all inside his head, the words he had planned to say had felt possible. Now, with Caduceus’ almost eerie pale eyes and soft smile on him, with a living person he was supposed to speak those sins to, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

“If you need some time you just go ahead and take it,” Caduceus said softly, seemingly knowing exactly when to fill the silence.

A moment sooner, and Caleb would have felt pressured and clammed up, a moment later, he would have apologised for bothering him and left. Now, he just stood there, stuck, as though the firbolg had used magic to bind him in place.

“It’s alright,” Caduceus continued in that steady, measured voice he had, nodding a little. Strangely, for half a heartbeat, Caleb almost believed him.

Then he cleared his throat, took a breath, and clung to the words he had prepared while standing outside, “If you are not too tired, I would appreciate it if you could join me downstairs. I promise |I will not take up too much of your time.”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Caduceus said, pleasantly, “But you can if you need to, I haven’t got anything more important to do tonight as it happens.”

Everything with Caduceus seemed so...Simple to Caleb. So easy. The firbolg was arguably one of the deepest, and by far the most insightful person he had ever met. But for all that, his thought processes were always so straightforward, his words genuine and direct.

Perhaps that is what you could have been, he thought, had you not fucked up so badly you needed a thousand secrets cloaking you just to justify continuing to breathe.

“You head down now,” Caduceus said, interrupting, probably deliberately, Caleb’s increasingly darkening thoughts. “I’ll join you in a few moments, just need to grab a few essentials first.” He nodded at his teapot and cups which, now Caleb looked, were suspiciously handy, as though he had known this meeting was coming, and had prepared for it.

There was something distinctly disarming about Caduceus. He was so polite, and agreeable, and quietly charming in his own soft, slow way, that it was easy to forget how perceptive he could be. Caleb feared being alone with him, when all the things he had worked so carefully to conceal beneath the mask of dirt and obscurity became an open book before his piercing eyes.

Reading the look on Caleb’s face he gave a half shrug and said, “Just kind of figured this would be the kind of talk it’s best to have over some tea.”

“You are not wrong,” Caleb mumbled, though privately feeling he would like to add some of Nott’s liquor to the tea.

Caduceus was watching him as though he knew that, too, and had considered the wisdom of it and decided against.

For all the mud, and clothes, and bandages he was hidden behind, Caleb had rarely felt as naked as he did standing alone in a room with Caduceus Clay.

There had been a time that realisation would have terrified him.

Now, faced with someone it was impossible to lie to, he found a different way to be, and breathed for the first time since he’d woken.

There was some magic to the firbolg, a quiet, hidden kind, perhaps gifted to him by his goddess. It was the magic of hidden pools in deep, ancient forests, older than the world itself, and seemingly untouched by any until the finder’s eyes alighted upon it.

The magic of the tall, swaying Zemnian fields he had played in as a child, the stalks towering above him, surrounding him, swaying above him. They had seemed so giant to such a small boy. In that moment, they had filled the entire world for him.

Nothing existed but their smell, the sight of them dancing before him, the soft whispering music they played with the wind, and the blanketing sky that lay heavy above them.

Yet he had never been afraid there. He had had every right to have felt fear. But he never had. They were his. They were safe. They were home.

Somehow, Caduceus made him feel the same way.

He held out his hand and accepted the cups Caduceus wordlessly passed to him. They headed downstairs to the now empty common room. For someone so large, Caleb noted, Caduceus moved almost entirely silently, especially out of his armour, stripped down to only loose trousers and shirt.

Glancing down, Caleb saw, instead of the feet he expected, large, soft padded paws, entirely bare, save for the light dusting of fur.

“Aren’t you cold?” Caleb blurted out, unable to banish memories of his frozen fingers and feet on the many nights he’d slept out in the freezing air alone.

Caduceus blinked and followed Caleb’s gaze then smiled slightly, “Can’t say I really notice. I suppose if I were, I’d have put shoes on.”

Caleb couldn’t argue with that, and couldn’t think of any kind of response, so he just turned round and continued walking down the stairs.

The common room was almost completely dark, and Caleb automatically sent a few globules of light into the air before sinking into the deep recesses of a sagging couch and watching Caduceus stoke the fire for their tea.

Sparks burst like constellations of stars tossed casually into the waiting darkness, snuffed out again as quickly as they appeared. They burned so brightly, so beautifully, but in the end, they were meaningless and cold.

Like me.

He watched in silence as Caduceus took his time brewing their tea. The longer he could stall, could allow this good man to believe he was in the company of an equal, the better.

Finally, Caduceus had lifted the pot from the fire, poured the steaming tea into both cups, and handed one to Caleb.

There was nothing to hide behind anymore. Nothing to delay him.

Caduceus sat down beside him and waited patiently, legs crossed, tail curled neatly around him.

“I thought,” Caleb said, forcing each word out as though it was his last before his execution, “That I should also share with you what I told the others earlier today, which I think you missed.”

“I caught bits and pieces,” Caduceus nodded, “But I will admit, I was more focused on keeping us on the road, stopping us being attacked by giant worm creatures. It’s okay, though,” he added, “Seemed like some heavy stuff, you don’t have to go through it all again on my account.”

“I think that I do,” Caleb replied, stiffly, “You have the right to know exactly who, exactly what,” he added, jerkily, “You are travelling with.”

“Oh, I’m pretty comfy with that,” Cad replied agreeably, smiling a little.

“You might not be if you knew what I had done,” he said, voice brittle.

Of all the ways he had expected this conversation to go, Caduceus fighting with him about hearing it in the first place hadn’t factored into any of his preparations.

“I don’t know if that’s really that important,” Caduceus said, mildly, a slight frown creasing his soft, broad face, “I know what you do, that’s enough for me to understand you as a fundamentally good person.”

“The world is larger than your graveyard,” Caleb snapped, “It will not coddle you forever, let you believe the best in people because you did not want to probe beneath their surface and get to know them. It will punish you for that, and soon.”

He didn’t know where this was coming from, but it was bubbling out of him in the face of Caduceus’ calm idealism as surely as oil would draw a spark to burn.

“The world is filled with dark, and horrible things,” he told him, “You are looking at one of them now. It’s time you learned to see them.”

Caduceus cocked his head slightly to one side, his ears flicking, as though bothered by a fly, and considered Caleb. He considered him for so long in patient silence that Caleb felt shame and regret for his words creeping into him, sending a red flush from his neck into his cheeks.

He cursed softly in Zemnian, then apologised.

“It’s alright,” Caduceus said, comfortably.

Caleb wondered, fleetingly, what it would take to rouse any kind of anger in the mild-mannered firbolg. He doubted any of them could ever say anything to push him away.

“You say what you need to say, Mister Caleb,” Caduceus said placidly.

Caleb took a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together in his lap and stared into the still flickering fire. Even after all the damage he had done with it, he still found a fascinating beauty in the endless, undulating shapes.

And it felt so much easier to cast the darker spots of his soul into the ravaging heat than Caduceus’ ghostly eyes.

“You know me as Caleb Widogast, but before, when the world had big plans for me to be something, to do something important,” he took a deep, trembling breath, then said, “My name was Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

***

Caduceus nodded evenly, his ears flicking.

Finally, when it became clear that Caleb expected some sort of response, he said, “D’you want me to call you Bren, or is Caleb still good?”

“I- Caleb, Caleb is fine, for now.”

He was squinting almost suspiciously at Caduceus, as though he felt he was lulling him into a false sense of security. He couldn’t think what purpose he’d have for that, but people thought strange things sometimes.

Caduceus maintained his polite silence, peering pleasantly at Caleb as he did so. He’d found, often, that silence often brought more answers than nettling. He didn’t think Caleb’s restraint would last long in his present state.

After a few more tense, pregnant seconds, Caleb burst out, “Don’t you have questions?”

“Not really,” Caduceus shrugged mildly.

He was sure there was a reason, probably a very good one, now called himself Caleb, but it didn’t much matter to him at the moment.

Caleb stared at him as though he’d just grown an extra head. He checked, just to be sure, then said, “Should I?”

Caleb watched him for a long moment, apparently trying to decide if he was mocking him. He wasn’t.

Caleb seemed to come to that conclusion, too, because he said at last, “You are a very strange man, Caduceus Clay.”

Caduceus smiled pleasantly at that. “Oh, I think we’re all strange in our own way. You see that a lot, where I’m from.”

“A graveyard?” Caleb said, his face scrunching up in that way it did when he was confused, his words lightly touched with scepticism.

“Sure,” Caduceus replied easily, “Death has a way of making people vulnerable.”

“In my experience, it simply makes them dead,” Caleb muttered drily under his breath.

“That too,” Caduceus agreed, seriously, “But the people they leave behind,” Caleb twitched uncomfortably, but didn’t speak. Caduceus shifted into a more comfortable position, letting Caleb gather himself without eyes on him for a moment, then he said, “Grief makes everyone look different on the outside, but I think it affects everyone just the same. There’s no magic, or potion, or spell that will make a person half as honest or genuine as true grief.”

“I...Am not sure where you are going with all of this,” Caleb said, slowly.

Caduceus smiled again, “You’re blunt. I like that,” he informed him, nodding. “A person’s soul is seen most clearly when they’re in pain,” he said, quietly.

No doubt, that was why he’d always been able to see right through Caleb, regardless of how hard he tried to hide himself. Caleb seemed to sense the truth of that himself, because he caught Caduceus’ eyes then looked away again.

“Some of them try to hide it,” he went on, “They put up walls, and masks, and all sorts, but you can always see, can always tell who they are underneath it all. Whatever they try to hide can sometimes tell you more about them than the thing they’ve hidden.”

Caleb shivered slightly, and Frumpkin appeared, trotting around the edge of his chair, winding his way comfortingly around Caleb’s legs.

Caduceus looked right at him, then said quietly, “You’ve suffered your own grief, your own pain. I can see that. The world can see that. You can hide exactly what it is but...Everyone knows all the same.”

Caleb swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. A moment later, Frumpkin leapt lightly onto his lap, and Caleb buried his hands in his thick fur, seeking the reassurance of his familiar.

“Caleb Widogast is just the mask you made to protect yourself from the world, and the world from you. But it’s still you. It’s not my place to judge you for that, or to know exactly why Caleb came to be in the first place.”

Caleb blinked at him, a faint crease between his eyes, as though he had never thought of this before.

“I met a wizard called Caleb one day. Since then, he’s been kind to me, and he’s tried to do good. I think after everything I’ve seen, all the people I’ve met, I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I trust my gut, and I trust you, Caleb. I don’t need to know anymore than that to think you’re a good person.”

They were quiet for a long time, Caduceus smiling pleasantly, Caleb gazing down at his tea, Frumpkin kneading his coat, processing.

“Most people want to know,” Caleb said, finally. “Everyone you meet, everyone you ever will, and all those you never do, they al have a story. Parts of mine are written on me. On my skin,” his fingers brushed unconsciously over the bandaging on his arms, “On my face. In my eyes.”

Caduceus nodded gently. It was rare that a person who hid themselves as completely as Caleb, and weren’t aware of what showed through the cracks in their mask.

“When you give a person half a story, natural curiosity leads them to want to know the rest.”

Caduceus smiled rather sadly at that. “My life has been filled with sad, unfinished stories from the day I was born. Every body in our graveyard was once a person with memories, and dreams, and mistakes, and stories I can never know. They might have been good people, or bad people, or more likely somewhere in between. They might have been rich, they might have been beggars. I’ll never know. None of that matters. We look after them all just the same, and the earth they’re laid in does likewise.”

Caleb was watching him with a quiet thoughtfulness, soaking in his words the way he would sit and focus on his books and drink in their words.

“People come to us every day, to bury, or grieve, or just remember. They come with their souls bared, and carry the darkest parts of their stories in their eyes. I can’t know them all. I can’t carry all their stories, and all their sadness. I’d have gone mad a long time ago if I’d even tried.”

Caleb nodded vaguely, “I understand,” he muttered, more to himself than to Caduceus.

That was okay.

When he prepared to rise from his chair, however, Caduceus went on, stalling him.

“There are some people, though, with stories that they show because they’re tearing them apart from the inside. Some people need to talk, need to tell, and share their burdens because they can’t carry them alone anymore.”

He met Caleb’s flickering gaze with his own steady one. Then he pushed the cup towards him and said, simply, “That’s what the tea is for.”

Caleb stared at him for a long time before a hoarse laugh huffed from him. It was quickly stifled, but left behind a faint half-smile.

He peered into his tea again, then asked with a twist of ironic humour, “Do you ever serve relatives tea made from their families?”

“Sure,” Caduceus said comfortably, smiling a little at the start of surprise in Caleb, who had obviously expected him to say no. “That’s their right. It usually seems appropriate,” he trailed off, considering, then added in a low mumble, “Not always appropriate to tell them that, though.”

“Who am I drinking?” Caleb asked with an open, genuine curiosity that was slightly marred by a grimace a moment later as he seemed to hear exactly what he’d just said.

“Mm,” Caduceus said, considering, having a sip and sucking in the right flavour. He had picked by smell, what had felt right when Caleb had knocked on his door. “This is Briarwood tea, if I’m not much mistaken,” he said, taking another drink. “Old family,” he mumbled, nodding slowly, “Not had any new ones for a while.”

“They make good tea,” Caleb observed lightly.

“They sure do,” Caduceus agreed with another slow smile. “Horrible people though, so I’ve heard.”

Once again, they sat together in companionable silence, sipping their tea.

Caduceus broke it by nudging, gently, “So, uh, what plans did the world have for Bren?”

Caleb stiffened, fingers flexing instinctively, as though he had to hold on to the chair to keep himself in it. He took another shaky sip of tea, then said, “There is an elite school of magic known as the Soltryce Academy in Rexxentrum. I was educated there as a young man.”

Caduceus nodded encouragingly to show he was listening, but didn’t speak. He had seen the blank, wide-eyed look on Caleb’s face before. It was the look of someone who was both here and a thousand miles and several decades away at the same time.

Any interruption would clam him up and cause damage that would be very difficult to fix. This kind of thing was like purging a poison. The important thing was to get it out before it killed him.

That was why Caduceus was here, to help guide it out.

***

“I had only been at the Academy for a few months when an older mage, a teacher, and member of the Cerberus Assembly named Trent Ikithon took an interest in me.”

Caleb tensed instinctively, and for a moment he froze and closed his eyes. Then he regretted it, and snapped them open. But not quickly enough to avoid the bursting image of the face he thought would haunt him long after Caduceus’ earth had turned his body to fungus.

“He was...Charming,” he said, breathless, “Always, very charming,” he said, his words starting to slip just a little, coming faster than he’d intended.

He’d always thought he had good self-control, that Trent had trained him better than this. Lies. All of that was lies. Everything he had ever seen in himself, everything anyone had ever seen, it had all been a lie.

“He was a very talented mage, a master of his craft. I was a nothing,” he gave a little twitchy shrug, shaking his head. “One step above a beggar, from a nothing town. I was young. I had stood out among my peers, he said. I thought then that I was invincible, and fabulously intelligent, and that the world was mine for the taking.” He trailed off, sinking into a pit of self-disgust.

He coughed a little clearing his throat and continuing as though he could be calm when talking about this, “His interest in me was flattering. The idea that someone like him could be interested in someone like me...” He shook his head.

He had chosen him well. At that age, he had had just enough innate talent and confidence in himself to believe he could be special, while still needing the validation and encouragement Trent provided.

And ambition. Yes. He’d had just enough ambition to see the opportunity to be better, better than where he had come from. As if he could ever be better than the best people he had ever known.

He had been stupid. Stupid, and greedy, and weak.

Caleb jumped slightly as Caduceus patted his arm with a huge but gentle hand, “Drink your tea before it gets cold,” he said softly, and Caleb realised he had gotten lost in the twisted mess that was his mind again.

He did as Caduceus suggested and took another sip of tea. It warmed him, and soothed him at once.

“Anyway,” he muttered, determined to finish what he’d started now. “He called me in to meet him privately. He asked me many questions and he, he seemed genuinely curious, genuinely interested in me, and proud of what I had learned and achieved.”

He had always been proud. Even when he had failed, let him down. Sometimes he would be angry, and rightly so, given how badly he’d fucked up. But once his anger, and the punishments it had made him give out, passed he had always told Caleb that he was proud of him, and that he just had to try a little harder next time.

He had always promised that he would.

“Eventually,” Caleb said, drawing in a rough, rattling breath with difficulty, “He took me, and two others, into his own private classes. He trained us and he, he experimented on us,” he shivered at the memories.

The pains still woke him in the night. The screams...

“Experimented?” Caduceus prompted him gently.

He realised he’d been staring into the fire, reliving the sessions, for how long, he didn’t know.

Clearing his throat, he said, “He, ah, put crystals into our skin. Like this,” he gently tapped the large pink crystal at the top of Caduceus’ staff.

“Into you?”Caduceus repeated, brow furrowing.

“Ja,” Caleb said, a little hoarsely.

Unable to find the words, again, he unwrapped one of his bandages to show Caduceus. The firbolg stared at him with sad eyes, reached out, then stopped himself.

“May I?”

Caleb nodded wordlessly.

Caduceus gently brushed his fingers over the pale scars, bumping over some of the more pronounced ones. Most of them were nearly invisible, he doubted that anyone who didn’t know to look for them would notice them. But he knew. And he could never not stare at them, feel them, and the memories that connected to them when they were uncovered.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Caleb,” Caduceus said, solemnly.

Caleb opened his mouth to protest, but the big firbolg continued, “If you want I could, uh, try and do something about these,” he said, blinking with concern, “I’m not sure if any of my magic could help, but a cream, an oil, or-“

“No,” Caleb said, too quickly. “No,” he repeated, more calmly this time. His fingers ghosted absently over one of the exposed scars as he spoke. “I- Thank you, Caduceus, it is a kind offer but no that, that is not necessary.”

If the scars were removed he would feel too...Too clean, too perfect. It would be unreal and, strangely, would feel the same as destroying an ancient and unique historical text. The marks were painful, and he did not want to look at them, or have others look at them. But they were a part of him. An ugly, broken part, but a part all the same. He would feel wrong without them.

Caduceus made him jump as he reached over and patted Caleb gently on the shoulder, nearly causing him to pour his tea all over himself.

“He was a monster, you know,” he said, solemnly.

“There are a lot of monsters in this world,” he said seriously, “And the real ones are never what we warn our children about.” Caleb shook his head jerkily and said, feeling suddenly a little breathless, “He was not a monster, not truly. He was just a man, a man in the middle of a war with, with a lot of responsibilities. He had to make difficult decisions for the good of the empire and...And he did.”

He could sense Caduceus looking at him and deliberately stared into the fire to avoid his gaze, swallowing hard. He did not want to see the disgust or pity he would find there. He did not deserve it.

“He hurt you,” Caduceus said, carefully, “maybe he had a duty to protect Wildemount, but he had a duty to protect you, too, surely, as your mentor. And he hurt you instead. That was wrong.”

Caleb let out an involuntary snort of humourless laughter, “Me?” he said. “What was I to him? I was a nothing, an o-one, a stupid peasant boy with dreams too big for his station. I did not matter compared to a continent, a war. What was I to an empire?”

“A person,” Caduceus said, with that simple, blunt honesty of his. “You were a person.”

Caleb scoffed again at that and muttered under his breath, “Not a very good one.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, “No-one deserves that,” he said, glancing towards Caleb’s arms again. He shook his big head sadly, ears drooping, his voice low and heavy.

“I agreed to it, you know,” Caleb said, suddenly, inexplicably defensive, “I needed to be stronger. He needed me to be stronger. He needed me, and I, I said yes.”

Take them out! Take them out!

He had screamed that, had begged him over and over and over again. But of course, he had not taken them out. Not in the middle of it all.

He had held him, though, afterwards. He had held him, and stroked his hair, the way his mother used to do. He had told him how well he’d done, what a good boy he had been, how proud he was of him.

Just like that, all of the pain had been worth it.

Now, in the flickering semi-darkness of the inn’s common room, the memory made him feel slightly sick.

“It didn’t pan out you know, at the Academy,” he said mechanically, feeling some kind of compulsion to just keep talking, to not let the silence close in on him now, as it so often had, knowing what would come from it. “Things...Happened,” he muttered, evasively, and Caduceus just nodded, apparently not even considering pushing him. “And I went a little crazy for a while there. Then I met Nott, then the rest of them, and then you.”

Caduceus was quiet for so long, periodically sipping his tea that, had it not been for that, Caleb might have thought he had fallen asleep. Yet his eyes remained open, looking down into his tea.

At last, he said, slowly, “What now, then? I mean,” he added, seeing the sight frown of confusion on Caleb’s face, “With Trent, and the Academy, and everything. Do you want revenge, or-“

Caleb shook his head violently at that, his hands flexing convulsively again.

“I,” he rasped, hoarsely, “I do not ever want to see that man again as long as I live,” he whispered fervently.

He remembered only too well the sheer, blinding terror that had possessed him when he had realised he was there at the Victory Pit in Zadash. He never wanted to feel that again, that frozen, paralysing fear. All he wanted was to be invisible. To get more powerful, quietly. To put right the terrible things he had done and then...Then finally get what he deserved.

“Because you’re afraid of what you might do?” Caduceus prompted gently.

“No,” Caleb replied. He was staring into the fire once more, allowing the hypnotic power of the flames to draw him in. Almost trance-like, he said, “Because I know exactly what I will do if I ever come face to face with that man again.”

He could see it. He could picture it so clearly he swore he could almost feel it. As though it was a memory, not a fantasy.

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and said, voice wavering between the boundaries of his control, “I would get down on my knees in the dirt in front of him. And I would look up at him, and beg for his forgiveness, and promise to do better for him in the future.”

His voice broke. He closed his eyes and buried his fingers into Frumpkin’s thick, soft fur.

He was shaking so violently he felt as he had on the streets that winter, shivering and freezing, on the verge of death. But he would sooner go back to that than the Academy. To Trent. He couldn’t go back there. He had failed. He had fucked it all up. He was weak, and he was stupid, and scared, and pathetic.

He could not go back.

They would kill him, and he couldn’t die until he had fixed what he’d done, he’d decided that.

With a start, he looked up at Caduceus whom he’d almost forgotten was there as he said, “Huh.”

“What?” Caleb snapped, a little more sharply than he’d intended because of how much he’d managed to work himself up, and because Caduceus’ final reaction seemed so inadequate in terms of everything else that he had confessed to him.

“I think I’m finally starting to understand why the Wildmother sent me to you.”

Caleb stared blankly at him before managing to get out, jerkily, “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” Caduceus began, politely, “You’re maybe going to wind up in a bad situation down the road, one that could lead you into making some very bad decisions, and I figure, with the way things are going, I’ll be there to help stop that from happening.”

He said all of this so simply, as though it was as plain and obvious as adding two and two and coming out with four.

Caleb stared incredulously at him, sure he had misunderstood, despite Caduceus’ very clear explanation.

“You believe,” he said, trying, and largely failing, to keep any hint of sarcasm from his voice. “That your goddess thinks so little of you that she sent you out with a bunch of arseholes like us because your destiny is to protect me from getting exactly what I deserve?”

“Sure,” Caduceus said, nodding comfortably.

If he had been anyone else, Caleb would have been sure he was mocking him, but he couldn’t bring himself to really believe that Caduceus had it in him to even consider that, especially in a situation like this.

“Destiny is a funny thing, at least the way I think of it,” he explained evenly. “It’s not so much a singular goal that your entire life is driven towards. I figure it’s more a kind of path you’re supposed to go down. Sometimes we get a little lost, and that’s when the Wildmother just gives me just a little nudge in the right direction.” He smiled placidly at Caleb, gave a little half-shrug and added, “On this path she’s put me down, I’ll be there when you have that moment of confrontation and I’ll be able to protect you from yourself. And him.”

There was a long, heavy silence, in which Caleb stared into Caduceus’ pale, guileless eyes, and tried, almost desperately, to wring some kind of lie or judgement from them. When he couldn’t, he crumbled.

“Why?” he said, hoarsely, “Why would you want to do that? Protect me of all people when there are others out there much more deserving of your time and help?”

“It’s not always a case of want, you know,” Caduceus replied, frowning a little as though he hadn’t really ever stopped to consider what he wanted when it came to his goddess. “I trust the Wildmother, for myself, and for all the things that are much bigger than me. I follow where she leads.”

“Wherever she leads?” Caleb pressed him, pointedly. “What if she led you to do something terrible that was entirely against your own moral beliefs?”

He expected Caduceus to argue that the Wildmother would never ask anything like that of him, and that was why he trusted her so completely. But the big firbolg just smiled gently and said, “I guess that’s why it’s faith.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“And secondly, not a lot of people get what they deserve in my experience. I’ve buried good people before, young people, even children, and I’ve heard that bad people, sometimes the ones that put them there, live long, full, happy lives. I’m not a very smart person,”

Caleb opened his mouth automatically to protest, but Caduceus didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. It was merely a simple statement, like most everything else.

“I don’t really know, but I don’t think life is about getting what we deserve, good or bad.” He frowned slightly, then added, as an afterthought, “Not too sure what it is about, but I don’t think it’s that.”

Caleb sat in stunned silence for a moment, then he said quietly, “How can you have faith in your goddess when she allows you to live in a world like that?” he said, voice brittle. “If she was worth following and believing in, wouldn’t she try to fix that injustice? To bring some more order to the world?”

Caduceus didn’t seem in the least offended by these brusque comments. On the contrary, he chuckled in a low, bass rumble.

“Oh, no, that’s not really what she does. She’s more concerned with nature, and keeping that right. Things live, and then they die. Big things eat little things so they can survive. Seasons come, and go. And there’s a little chaos in there, too, because you can never really control nature. That’s why it’s there. Keeps us all humble. Whether you’re a god, or a beetle, you can’t stop the rain from falling, or the winds from blowing. And the earth will outlast you. Best you can do is try and make sure that it remembers you fondly once you’re gone.”

Caleb studied him a long time before saying quietly, “I think you are wrong about one thing, my friend. I think you are a very smart person.”

“Oh,” Caduceus’ big face split suddenly in a wide smile. “Well thank you, that’s very kind of you to say that.”

“I do not think your earth will remember me kindly,” Caleb muttered without thinking, gazing into the depths of his tea. “I don’t really think anything will.”

“I would,” Caduceus replied, so simply it was impossible for the words to be anything but sincere. “I think a lot of people would. One of the saddest things about dying is that, a lot of the time, people don’t realise the impact they have until they’re gone. And then they’re not around to realise it anymore.”

“I can assure you,” Caleb said, voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady, “I have not had any kind of impact on anything that will be missed.”

“If you think about it, I think you know that’s not true,” he said quietly.

Caduceus fixed him with that eerie, ghostly pale gaze that made Caleb feel as though he was peering beyond skin, and flesh, and bone, into the very soul of him. What little he had left.

He squirmed uncomfortably.

“Perhaps if I were to drop dead this very moment-“

“I mean, I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m pretty good about that. But go on.”

“Perhaps I would be truly missed by this little group of ours,” he grimaced and took a deep breath. “But that is because none of you have been with me long enough to realise I will hurt you all in the end. I am a poison that eats away at you, and by the time you realise that, it is too late.”

“Well, that’s an unpleasant idea, certainly,” Caduceus muttered, shaking his head slightly, with water trapped in its ears. “But you don’t get to decide the effect you have on people. And you might be smart, much smarter than me, but you aren’t always the smartest person in the room, and you’re not always right. ‘Specially about things like this.”

“Well, we will see,” Caleb muttered darkly, now staring at his hands.

“We will,” Caduceus agreed.

He patted Caleb gently on the shoulder, “You can’t see the truth of what happened before right now, and that’s okay. But someday, hopefully someday soon, you’ll be ready, and you will. It’ll hurt you. It’ll come close to ruining you. If you survive it, you won’t be the same person anymore. But you’ll be able to start moving on, and letting scars form where you don’t even see wounds yet, ‘cause they’re ones you have to make yourself to get this out of you. But you will.”

He smiled and got to his feet unexpectedly.

“I’ve got a good feeling about you, Caleb Widogast. Yeah. A good feeling.”

He turned and began to amble back towards the stairs.

“You speak as though you have some experience with this,” Caleb said, needing to say something instead of facing what Caduceus had just laid bare before him, and fell back on deflecting it back towards him.

“Yeah. I do know some things,” Caduceus replied with a strange, agreeable vagueness that was so unique to him. “And I’ll be there for you when this all hits you. And I think the rest of them, they’ll be there too, even if you don’t want them. Maybe especially if you don’t want them,” he added, after a short pause, “Because that means you need them.”

Nodding to himself, he continued to pad up the stairs, humming gently to himself, leaving Caleb alone by the fire in the empty common room, absently petting the quietly purring Frumpkin.

He watched the fire until it burned down to embers and finally to ash, leaving the room in darkness.

If Caduceus knew what he had done, he might feel less comfortable in helping him. Maybe that was all Caleb would be to him, in the end, a test of faith. A task so repulsive it made him question his Wildmother.

Yet, somehow, he couldn’t banish the thought that perhaps Caduceus could be right. Perhaps there was something more to the two of them being on this path together. After everything that had happened, he didn’t believe in fate or destiny. He didn’t believe in anything.

But, he thought as he slowly climbed the stairs following the ghosts of Caduceus’ footsteps, if he ever was to believe anyone, or anything again, he could do a lot worse than Caduceus Clay.

***

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ninemoons42-lestallumhaven · 6 years

Text

(Did this over two writing sprints in one of the FFXV Discord servers I’m part of, so thanks to creator friends for giving me the impulse and the companionship of working together. Musical inspirations include Capriccio espagnol and, of course, my sprint theme, String Quartet #12 “American”.)

(I took the germ for this piece from a Rey/Finn/Poe Dameon ficlet I posted in 2016, called schools of magic.)

(And I wrote this for @jean-the-bean and @junjougrey.)

Quick Fic Pick 75: chocobo, stand your ground

“Ready when you are,” he says, and on the rocks below him Gladio hefts the entire massive length of the red-corded greatsword in both hands, up into an overhead block and the sunlight catches on the blade, flaring in the bright morning, enough to blind him.

Rustle in the rocks above him, pitter-patter of pebbles showering, and he knows that was a deliberate thing. A deliberate sound. A specifically reassuring sound: for when she’s on the move, when she’s on the attack, not even magical spells can detect the footsteps of Lunafreya -- the way she sprints, the way she springs into the attack, the flight of her myriad knives, like she’s a storm of power and purely lethal speed.

“Here they come!” And he’s also familiar with the distortion of Noctis’s voice: it’s not him, anyway, or it’s not inherent to him. His voice is distorted because he’s forcing it through his shields.

Ignis doesn’t turn his head to the left, or a little upwards, because he doesn’t need to see those crystal-blue planes and facets and shards of light for reassurance.

He can feel Noctis’s power, he can feel Noctis’s strength: the immense magical pulse of him in the world, the bright startling flare of his power and the potential of his blood -- the gifts that could only have been found and trained and honed by his mother Aulea, and Noctis is her son and her best student and Ignis was, still is, grateful for her and for him both and the presence that they have both brought to bear onto this world.

Far below, in the clefts and the fissures and the deep verdant valleys of these mountains, live people with their hopes and their dreams and their families and their love, and these people are under their protection, too.

The thought lingers in his mind for a heartening moment and then -- flash of metal-brazed pinions, harsh scream in the bright daylight, and he can’t stop the lurch of his heart and he can’t stop the vicious oath that he hisses.

Fiends, powerful and hungry, shrieking with their hunger, and still the question remains: what is making them canter and clash rampant in the daylight, and so close to the settlements to boot? What kind of darker magic is at work in this world that is making the nights so dangerous and the days so fraught with fear?

Warmth and wash of magic running through Ignis’s veins -- Noctis is casting, or probably has been casting for a while, given the flurry of fireballs streaking from his fingertips, and Ignis bares his teeth in a joyless grin.

Bow in his hands, the supple curve of it and the tension that it needs, the tension of it that he craves and that runs through his bones and his nerves and his muscles as he plucks an arrow from the quiver riding his hip. Up, up, the tip aiming for enemy hearts, and he draws -- he knows the twitch of his own mouth and the strain in his own shoulders as he completes the movement, and he whispers in a different tongue as he lets fly --

The single arrow becomes three, three become a dozen -- a multiplication of the arrows and they turn into flames as they’re launched out, screeching fire to cast down the feral snarls clustering around and above Gladio, and Ignis nods, once, waits for the next cluster to hit.

“Look.”

Whisper to his right -- Lunafreya’s voice, torn on the wind of her passage as she streaks back up towards Noctis’s position in time to slash another fiend open.

Ignis turns to the right and sees -- nothing but greedy eyes, nothing but slavering mouths, and he drops to one knee for stability, because he needs to be utterly still, if he’s going to attack. He needs to be utterly fastened into himself, into his focus, into the world that’s still and supporting, and he closes one eye and sights -- starts shooting. Arrow after arrow after arrow, precise, carefully timed so he doesn’t have to run out of breath, so he doesn’t tire before the quiver runs empty -- and there’s the impact of supplies arriving anyway, Noctis conjuring another full quiver into the world even as he summons a storm of fire and lightning unto their enemies, and the quiver falls right next to Ignis’s foot so he doesn’t have to waste time, so he can keep attacking, and --

“Hey!”

Ignis’s blood runs cold, suddenly: because that’s alarm in Gladio’s voice -- something else is coming, a larger threat, a more immediate threat, and he swings to look in the direction of that shout and --

Even the peace of the bow in its full tension and flex in his hands shatters, once he understands that there are daemons on the move: once he understands the boiling rage of black ichor on those mountain rocks.

“Fall back,” he screams, and Gladio is already moving and that’s a good thing: but being in the higher reaches of the mountain’s slopes means being isolated, means there’s nowhere to shelter.

He shouts at Noctis and Lunafreya anyway: “You’re going to have to -- ”

“Who are you?”

Voice, new voice, strange and unknown and -- sweet high song of a cry, and Ignis glances upwards and immediately throws himself into a roll, and there are golden feathers falling onto the ledge that he’s been occupying, claws landing right where he was just standing -- golden feathers and a kind spark in beady black eyes.

A cry that he’s never heard in the world -- he’s only ever read about the great feathered beast that’s fluttering its wings for balance on the narrowness of the ledge -- it’s hard to understand that he’s looking at something real, and once he catches sight of Noctis he knows he’s not going mad, because Noctis can see this creature, too, and if any of them would know about how strange and how rare this beautiful thing is, it’d be Noctis --

Thump of bare feet hitting the stone -- the boy, he’s only a boy, his skin stippled in freckles, his hair the exact gold of the bird’s feathers, his eyes like ocean-jewels -- the wind catches on the lengths of fabric pinned to his shoulders and caught in knots on his vambraces -- catches the single magnificent feather that he wears in his hair, like it’s a jewel in its own right. Slender dueling sword on a belt at his hip.

His other hand -- Ignis watches him keenly as he glances down the ravening mountain-side and makes a face, somewhere between a snarl and a smirk.

The boy whistles out a sharp tune and magic shimmers out of him -- not Noctis’s dusk-blue power but something like sunset-hues instead, flowing down the rocky slopes.

“That’ll hold them for a bit,” the boy declares, and then he crosses his arms and quirks up an eyebrow. “Now please answer me. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“Can hardly trust someone like you, we got here first, we’re trying to protect those villages on the other side of the mountains,” Ignis hears Gladio say, steady mocking good cheer. “They asked us for help and we’re giving it to them.”

“He only looks and sounds ungrateful, please ignore his lack of tact,” and Lunafreya laughs, a little, and Ignis watches her unwind the dust-veils from her face and from her braided hair. “And -- do you recognize me?”

The boy nods, once. “You, yes, I’ve seen you before. You’re the girl who didn’t want to be a priestess.”

“Can you blame me? I do much better with my blades. The gods won’t listen to my words because I’m too rough-spoken for them.”

“The gods don’t listen to anyone at all,” and the boy cracks a small smile. Reserved.

He seems much warmer when his companion, with its wings and its feathers, croons at him and brushes the tip of its beak over the top of his head -- he laughs a little, and reaches out to catch its head in both hands, and he sings back the note that it’s producing, higher, fluttering in the wind. “All right. If you trust them, I’ll trust them too.”

But the smile drops off his face when he glances back down the mountain, and -- he snarls, he honestly snarls, and Ignis finds himself rushing to his side and looking down at -- the rage of hungry shadows, boiling and boiling and rushing towards them --

So he acts, because he’s been trained for this, after all, and he starts with: “Noctis, I’ll take all the arrows now.”

“All right,” and three more quivers appear next to his feet.

“I’ll watch your back,” Gladio says, stomping to his side. Shiver of magic in the air around him, and the greatsword changes into a shield, the pointed end of which he plants into the rock before his feet.

“And I’ll watch his,” he hears Lunafreya say, and she’s speeding up to Noctis’s perch and they’re joining hands for a moment, she’s whispering to him for a moment, before she draws another set of daggers and watches, crouched, next to him.

The boy with the feather in his hair -- has dropped back to lean against the mountain itself, and when Ignis looks at him, his features are screwed up in intense concentration, and he seems to be singing once again.

He’ll have to join the great feathered bird -- “chocobo” seems like such an inadequate name for its power, for the great sweep of its wings, for the bright cry that erupts from its mouth -- in protecting the boy.

And when the first of the daemons blunders through the barrier that the boy had created, Ignis calmly fires an arrow right between its eyes, and puts it out of its misery.

Through the first, and through the next, through the next -- the trickle becomes a flood -- the flood becomes a shattering storm --

Lightning flashing down from the cloudless clear sky, and each striking bolt leaves behind images of shimmering blue.

Lunafreya’s voice, clear and calm and sharp, calling out targets.

Gladio’s shield is just as effective a battering ram as it is a bulwark, and he seems to bat away a particularly large daemon with it so easily, so calmly, though the man’s mouth is fixed in a grimace.

And then another whistle rises above all the screams of the fight and the chocobo itself screams a warning.

“Everyone down!”

That’s the boy, that’s his voice, the song in it shredding away on the fury of the words, and Ignis is already covering his head with his arms, even as Gladio pulls him behind the shield -- he hopes, he assumes, that Lunafreya is, similarly, covering Noctis -- the boy sounds like all the power of winter, suddenly --

Winter -- that suddenly comes to them in a silent snow-hush, cold that sears him right into his bones for only an instant --

He peers around the edge of the shield and the boy is changing, all the golden hues of him bleeding away into winter-white, into snow and ice, and the ominous whistle cuts off -- the daemons scream defiance even as they’re frozen and stilled and shattered into bright bits --

The boy, still wearing his feathers, and the violet of his magic singing high perilous on the cutting winds.

#quick fic pick #fic: mine #junjougrey #jeanthebean #jean the bean #character: lunafreya nox fleuret #character: noctis lucis caelum #character: prompto argentum #character: gladiolus amicitia #character: ignis scientia #chocobo madness!

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skittidyne · 6 years

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I need to vent and I don't know to who and I feel through your writing that you're a person that can actually understand me so I'm venting here I hope it's alright I think I'm going insane but im also not and I don't know how to explain but one day I'm on top of the world, I feel like all of my dreams can come true if I just invest enough in them, that everything in life will be better eventually,but as soon as a tiny little bad thing happens I get completely engulfed in anxiety, (1/?)

Start considering suicide without any reason, while knowing it’s illogical and that I won’t do it, but the thought is there I do know I have social anxiety and it’s pretty bad and I don’t even know what this mess of an ask is, I just need to vent. I’m in a period of time where the tiniest thing can tick me of, or make me have an anxiety attack/panic attack or cry and I just need advice, y'know skitti? I have people to talk to, I have two close friends, but I just need an adult’s advice (2/3)

I am going into a psychological treatment soon, so that’s good. I don’t know what I was trying to get through this ask. I guess I just had to tell to someone who I think might understand me, or get some advice, or just a cheer. I dunno. Anyway, thank you for writing things that I feel can understand me. Especially bbac kenma, I don’t think you realize how much the way you built him helped me think better about my own problems- I mean, a badass witch with social anxiety? I love you skitti (3/3)

alright, anon. this is going to be quite the response in reply to quite an ask, i suppose. i’m so sorry you’re going through a rough time, and i’m very glad you’ll be talking to professionals soon. it can be a really big and scary first step, and all sorts of hurdles both personal and outside your control can happen. i’m happy you’re doing that.

i also do totally understand the need to vent. i vent - my discord writer group has an entire vent channel - and i vent in private to friends, too. when i was younger, i’d use social media to vent, both publicly and privately, all the way back to lj and dA days. it can be incredibly cathartic! i also think it’s a good way for you to kind of line up your thoughts.

and i’ve vented to people who weren’t equipped to handle it at the time, either. i’ve also been on the other side of that. it’s one thing to vent off anonymously, whether with someone else or into the void, but in the individual case, you are still directing this at a person. in this case, i am that person. i don’t know think we know each other anon. while i understand the need and desire for venting, this is still involving a completely other person.

while i have a degree in psychology, i am not a professional therapist. my askbox is always and will always be open, to speak with people and to help them if i am able, but i am not a therapist and i am not providing that service for people. i will help out people, strangers or friends, if i am able. i will try my best. i will especially help my friends to the best of my abilities at the time. but this still places an emotional burden on me, and the only reason i bring up the whole “we don’t know each other” thing anon is that you possibly don’t know what’s going on in my life or whether or not this would cause undue stress.

it sounds like you do have quite a lot of emotional fluctuation, which can be really rough to deal with. you are seeking help, which is great, and hopefully they can work with you to find something that works. that can be a long and frustrating journey itself, but every little bit can help, and it’s important to keep trying and keep hoping. there is rarely a magical cure to any problem in life, but time and therapy can help with so many of them.

i don’t know how old you are, anon, but i am glad you realize that advice from your elders can be helpful. i wish lots of people had that mentality. but don’t discount the support your friends can give you, even if it’s just listening to your venting or helping you find a fun distraction for awhile. if they’re really your friends, you won’t be a burden to them, no matter what your dark thoughts might whisper to you.

writing & reading have done tremendous things to help me, personally, and i know that that extends to many others. i’m very glad you could find a little bit of solace and support in my writing! there are a lot of personal issues i have with bbac, but i will never stop being proud of how it has helped people in cases like this. i know that writing about mental illness can be messy, but i tried my best to both make it a consistently present part, but also not the only facet of anyone’s character. bbac kenma is and always will be near and dear to my heart.

my advice to you is try to be patient. make sure you’re getting enough sleep and water!! and food. it can be really hard to eat during down times, especially healthy things, but please remember to eat even if it’s just a little or a bit of chocolate. and drink water! sleep is your friend, too.

distract yourself as needed. fic is one of my favorite ways to do that, but it can be time consuming and energy-draining to trawl through tags, so ask for recs. or sit down and binge watch something. brooklyn 99 and fresh off the boat are two really fun ongoing comedies that i like to binge! golden girls is also really fun, though they do touch on some heavier things at times. round planet is hilarious and fun, plus documentaries in general can be pretty nice. i also enjoy watching let’s plays on youtube - i recommend cryaotic or markiplier for sure.

even if it’s a grind, i hope you keep going. suicidal thoughts aren’t fun, to say the least, but i’m glad you recognize that they’re illogical. take each day as it comes. enjoy what you can, and keep moving through the things that you can’t. reach out to people you trust. pet a cat. think fondly of your otp. play persona 4.

i hope you feel better soon, and i hope things look up for you, even if it’s incrementally.

#ask #anonymous #i do hope this helped even a little #this is about all i can offer you #my life doesn't give me many spoons right now

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

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Hi could I please submit this prompt: "You're scaring me," she says quietly. "Please don't look like that. I wouldn't tell you you were if I didn't trust you."

Hi Anon!

Thank you for the prompt and yes we’re still filling prompts these days, we just have a lot of prompts in our ask box - which is a good problem so keep them coming - just bear with us as we fill them out. We have more prompts than we have fic ideas tbh so it does take some time lol!

So thank you for your patience! Anyways, hope you like it! Enjoy!

Summary: Post-apocalyptic canon divergent AU, everyone dies but only fifty of them remain after the Long Night is over and the Night King defeated. Jon and Sansa survive and they are the only ones left to rebuild Winterfell. R+L=J revealed and they both explore what that means…

Mood music: House Stark theme by Ramin Djwadi (brilliant man!)

Rated PG-13 (unbeta’d)

~Mod Elle xx

We Are Home Now

It still stood tall and proud. And grey. Some of the stones were chipped off and obscene chunks strewn all over the snowy grounds, but the walls still held fast.

That was Winterfell. The castle had taken countless beatings and yet its towers stood defiantly, the battlements still heavily draped with tattered Stark banners flapping in the chilly winds.

There was never any doubt to whom the castle still belonged to. Though it was no longer a domicile of proud Northern folk, most of them had perished in the Great War; a frightening war that lasted a year between the dead and the living. In its monstrosity, it had unleashed a great fear and dread never seen since tales of the Long Night were written. It had come as prophesied and it had come with a vengeance. Took with it every living person and creature, man woman and child. And the strong with the weak. Knights, squires and even Queens.

It tortured him a great deal; their shrill screeches still awake him at night and sleep had turned into a threatening demon - ever vigilant to snatch the very life out of his fatigued body every time he tried to close his eyes. He knew he had not slept for ages and it weakened him, no matter how much he tried to remain his stoic self.

Fifty. Just fifty. That was all there was. Just fifty of them who fought and lived. Tormund and the few wildling men who survived had returned with bleak news and with sacks of bones, proof and a result of months ranging deep into the north of the Wall - that there was not one living human left for miles and miles. The Night King had been industrious in his enslavement, his subjects had numbered almost all of Westeros. Except just fifty of them. Whether they were fortunate or cursed remained to be seen but Jon was thankful he survived to see his family by his side. The Starks will endure, he remembered Ned’s words still.

Word had yet to come from the South, where Arya, Pod and Gendry accompanied by the remaining Knights of the Vale were tasked to bring news of the state of the Capital. Jon had prayed for the first time in his resurrected life that they would all return safely home soon and intact. He had doubts, for the gods were cruel but if the Lord of Light had restored him, he would have the faith that He would restore his people too. If not, Valryian steel would do. Arya had proven a better swordswoman than most men he battled with.

At least he had Sansa by his side. Sweet Sansa, still shaken and bruised, her nightmares were every bit as real as his own. It had become somewhat a norm for them to be in each other’s company, sitting by the fire before they retired for the night. Words were rarely spoken but there was hardly a need, they were both comforted by each other’s presence. Though never acknowledged between them, Jon never felt more at ease with anyone, let alone a woman other than Sansa and there was no others that Sansa wished to spend her quiet time than with Jon.

Conversation was almost naught, since the day he returned home to Winterfell with the Dragon Queen by his side and pledged his fealty to her. The riot and discord amongst the Northern Lords and their objections were short lived when alarms had sounded and they all realised the dead had come marching too close to home. The Wall, created to keep the Walkers out had crumbled to pieces and the War had begun. Just as Jon had warned them.

The dead, the dead, the dead…

It had seemed like ages ago, almost as if it had been in another lifetime entirely as Sansa recalled how her heart nearly stopped when a wight had her neck in its clutches, the bony chilly fingers wrapped around her throat and Sansa found herself staring into hollow icy orbs of blue. This was what death had looked like. Her nightmares did not come close to what had touched her. And all she remembered was shutting her eyes and screaming.

It was within just a breath when she was yanked away forcefully from death’s own grip, one that made Sansa open her eyes despite her fears. Jon. How his warm body and familiar scent was suddenly over hers, shielding her from evil. That was the only word that played in her mind. Evil. Cold, pure evil. She watched in horror with her very eyes how the Dragon Queen fell, captured and torn to shreds by wights - as if she were a ragged doll, bloodied bits of her flying about and her magnificent dragons slain close by, failing to save their Mother, as each one was shot and bled to the ground.

No creature was too great nor too formidable for the Night King to kill. It was a sight that would remain on her mind for as long as she lived. Jon was right. There was only one war and it was nothing like any wars known to man.

The memory made her flinch and a small whimper escaped her lips, alerting Jon who was sitting quietly reading a book by the fire.

“Are you all right, Sansa?”

There was no need to speak of the truth that ailed her. It was a quiet and peaceful time for both of them and she would cherish these moments as much as she could.

“A slight knot in my neck is all, I had been sewing all night, yesterday. I suppose I shouldn’t any longer. Silly me.”

“New dress?” Jon gave a little knowing smile as he glanced her way to meet her eyes.

“A new cloak wouldn’t hurt. I’m making one for you and Bran.”

Jon’s face lit up in pleasure as his eyes met hers. “Thank you Sansa. I’m sure it’s magnificent and I’m looking forward to wearing it.”

“You’re very kind, Jon. I doubt it will be. I try my best but… sometimes my hands tremble a little too much-” Sansa paused, realising she had said more than she should. Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes for a moment.

A year was too little to escape from the horrors that replayed in her mind and a silence blanketed the room. A brief glance his way found Jon staring at her intently, as if willing her to continue and say her piece.

It was unsettling how he had his eyes resting on her. She had caught his stares more than once now, and it lingered a little too long than she thought was appropriate. There were questions in his eyes and if he was looking for answers, Sansa didn’t have them.

“I-I’m sorry. I meant the cold. This winter has gotten to me, I suppose.”

Jon broke his gaze and looked down. Sansa thought she saw a slight flush come over his cheeks, from the faint light of the flames. The silence was pregnant with unspoken need for seeking comfort. From their nightmares, obviously. What else could it be?

“I tremble too. Sometimes, when I sleep, my body twitches and I jolt out of bed. And I never want to sleep again.”

“It’s not the cold,” Jon continued as his gaze returned to her.

Sansa’s breath hitched and she almost clutched at her chest.

“I can’t sleep either, Jon. It tires me but I could never sleep. I know it’s not the cold. But… We’ve never talked about it.”

Jon didn’t answer. Sansa stared again into the flames. Whatever the Lord of Light has brought upon them, Sansa hoped it was a brighter future.

“Do you want to? Talk about it?” Jon’s voice wavered a little as the question finally escaped his lips.

“It’s been a year, Jon. All that’s happened. Why are we still alive? I can’t sleep at night because my nightmares are memories and I’m still truly frightened. I don’t want to live like this. None of us are the same anymore.”

“Aye, we’re still alive. We’re still standing. I don’t understand it anymore than you do and I wished I had answers, Sansa. But I don’t. I’m still Jon,” he said, his voice softening at the last few words, as if uncertain. No, you’re not, he thought to himself.

“ Are you? Are you, still Jon Snow?”

Jon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of burning embers was a constant source of comfort. I am a Stark. I am of the North. I have always been, he told himself.

“Aye. Is that so hard to believe? When I say that I am truly a Stark?” Jon turned to Sansa who was now fiddling a tad too zealously with her handkerchief.

Sansa hesitated to speak her truth. She had known about Jon, or Aegon as Bran recounted to her. Sam Tarly was present to corroborate that, pointing out to a page in archived anecdotal records. Secret ones, no less. And there it was clear as day, as to who Jon really was. His birth and his parents.

Perhaps, Jon realised she had known the truth. He wasn’t the same Jon anymore. Or at least she wasn’t certain.

“Will you hate me, when I tell you I know the truth? That I know who you are? We have to talk about this, Jon. About what it means.” The gentle, pleading tone in Sansa’s voice pricked his ears and it was unmistakable, her care and concern for him.

Jon felt heat rising up his neck and settling on his cheeks. Anger, it was not. His eyes remained on Sansa but his body inched closer and soon, they sat only two steps away from each other, their hands would almost touch if any one of them shifted ever so slightly. Strangely enough, he felt at ease still.

“Please don’t look at me like that. You’re scaring me.”

Jon quickly turned his head away, snapping back to his senses. Don’t, she’s still your sister. Half sister. Cousin.

“How did you know? Was it Bran?”

“Does it matter now? Please Jon, I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t trust you enough not to hold that against me.”

“Do you? Trust me that is? Now that I’m no longer a Stark by name?”

Sansa cocked her head slightly as she studied Jon. There was nothing different about him. He still looked the same. But there was a different air about him now that she sat in the presence of the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms. Or what was left of it. It was uncanny how she was always in the company of kings. Ominous, it seemed. Of what, she had little knowledge.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out.. The way you did. And I’m sorry about Danaerys, I-”

“No, Sansa. Please don’t,” Jon objected softly. “Please talk about everything else but please do not talk about her.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see if… If you’re all right, is all. With all that happened. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Jon.”

Jon sighed deeply. How he wished he could speak openly of his heart’s desires, his secrets, his fears. His shame and guilt.

“I am not. Aye, she was brave. She fought for the North but I shall be forever burdened with the guilt of her death it till my dying day.”

A familiar sense of home came over her and Sansa grabbed and squeezed Jon’s hand in his. “But she was your family, Jon. The only family you had.”

And I debauched her. I poisoned myself, my flesh mingled with hers. My own flesh and blood. I would live with the shame and have it burn deep in my bones till the day I die again.

“No. You’re my family. You. Arya and Bran. You have always been. No others could change that. We are home now, ” Jon’s other hand clasped hers in his and he found himself staring into her pale blues. Sansa smiled as her eyes slowly welled up in tears. Jon is Jon.

“Cousins,” Sansa corrected him, with a slight smirk.

Jon chuckled. “Aye, cousins.”

As the dawn of Spring kissed the snowy dew..

“Touch me, Jon. I want you to.”Jon opened his eyes and they were met with a piercing blue eyed gaze full of longing. Oh, Sansa.

“Sansa.. If I do, I’m afraid I will never ever stop,” Jon whispered into her mouth as their lips met again. This time with such fervent hunger, as she grabbed tightly onto his tunic, pulling him close.

“Then don’t. There is only us now. The only Starks left. We made a promise, Jon. To each other, to our family,” Sansa said as she nuzzled into his firm broad shoulder.

“Will you have me, then?”

Sansa ran her palm along the curve of his chin and cupped the side of his head. There was little resistance from either of them as Sansa lovingly kissed the tip of Jon’s nose.

“Yes.. we are home now. You and me. This is our Winterfell.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa prompts #anon asks #anon replies #prompt fills #canon divergent #post apocalyptic au #jonsa fic #major character death #dany dies

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