#roots in my dreamland tag

[ethereal-maia]

Marya Hendriks from the Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo

[inaredflush]

@mercybloomed sent 🚼 for pictures of esme solo

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 3: I Can't Stop You Putting Roots In My Dreamland

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan Author's Note: this chapter does talk about sex with the husband, which isn’t non consensual, but it also isn’t something the reader actually wants, doing it more out of obligation than anything. also chapters will probably start to be longer and therefore take longer to write <3 Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

You rarely smoked. 

The only time you did was after you and Hans were intimate. He would roll over onto his side, asleep, and you would get up from the bed, wrapping your robe around you and heading outside to the front porch, sitting right on the top stair. 

It was comforting to you, because you imagined the flame and smoke from the cigarette would burn the remnants of him from your body. 

You felt them in your pocket, the promise of temporary relief calling to you like a siren. You ignored them, choosing to listen to the sounds of the woods around you. The crickets sang, the frogs croaked, and you heard the chattering of nocturnal animals as they found food for the night. Everything was so peaceful, so why couldn’t you stop yourself from feeling so tense?

It had been two days since the trip into Rhodes. Hans had stayed in his office for most of that time, only coming out to eat and sleep. But as was typical before leaving on trips, Hans wanted you, so you obliged him. 

Sex with Hans felt like a task, no passion between the two of you. He treated it like he treated his business: efficiently. There was no foreplay, no lingering touches, nothing. It was just straight to the point, and done as soon as it started, which came as a relief to you. The less time you had to spend doing it with him, the better. 

However, as much as it shamed you to admit it, your thoughts had not been of Hans during the moment. Instead of cold gray eyes traveling down your body, you imagined they were a certain shade of blue. Instead of pallid skin, you imagined it was tanned, roughened from years in the suns. And when Hans’ hands did touch you, you imagined they were strong and broad, calloused yet gentle. You’d be a liar if you said it didn’t make it easier. 

Disgusted with yourself, you ran a hand down your face, slumping forward where you sat on the stair. Cold air dug into your skin, and you tightened your robe further around your body. The silk felt nice against your skin, but it did nothing to protect against the elements. 

You were about to fish the pack out of your pocket, but the sound of hoofbeats had you perking your head up, eyes focusing on the small path in front of you. Emerging from the shadows was a man on horseback, lantern in one hand that lit up the side of his face. It took you a second to register who it was, not quite believing your eyes at first. 

“Arthur?” You called out. Not only could you not escape from him in your thoughts, but here he was in reality. Not that you minded, but of course the timing had to be terrible. 

He responded with a noise of affirmation, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “What’re you doin’ here? It’s very late.” You knew it was somewhere between nine and ten at night, which is a little late for visitors. “Don’t tell me you’re here to try and rob me again.”

Arthur audibly sighed, shaking his head as he dismounted his horse. “You ain’t ever gonna let that go, are you?” You watched as he secured the reins around a nearby tree before making his way over to you.

“Never,” you laughed, and despite your better judgment, you scooted over to the side to give Arthur room to sit. You patted the stair when he got to the porch, and he sat down next to you. The scent of tobacco and gunpowder wafted over you, and you felt his jacket covered arm brush yours, causing you to shiver.

It was at that point you remembered you were only wearing your undergarments underneath, and you tightened the robe even more around your body, both because of self awareness and the temperature. 

Wordlessly, you felt Arthur shift, taking his jacket and draping it across your shoulders. The outside material of the jacket had been rough, but the inside was lined with a soft pelt, warmed by Arthur’s body. The addicting scent was even stronger now, causing your head to spin, and you resisted the urge to bury your face into it. “You’ll catch your death out here,” he said disapprovingly. You just chuckled in response. 

“What’re you doin’ out here, anyway?” You heard him ask, and you shrugged. 

“I could ask you the same question.” You watched him out of the corner of your eye, and he sighed. 

“Leigh was worried ‘bout the ‘issue’ you’d been having, with the break-ins. He wanted me to come out ‘ere and make sure everythin’ is good.” He laughed lightly, and you felt his eyes on you. “Now will you answer me?”

Finally, you pulled out the pack, holding it gently in your hands. Glancing up at Arthur, he seemed surprised. “Didn’t strike me as the type who smoked,” he commented.

“I rarely do.” You pulled out one of the cigarettes from the pack, placing it gently between your lips. Pulling out your lighter, it took a few too many tries before the spark caught, and you lit the end of it. Taking a long drag, you wordlessly offered Arthur one from the pack.

He accepted it, placing it between his own plush lips, and you shifted closer to light it. Except this time, no matter how many times you tried, the spark wouldn’t catch, and you could hear Arthur chuckle as you grew more and more frustrated. “Piece of shit,” you grumbled, “I keep forgettin’ to buy a new one.”

You tried it a few more times before giving up, shoving it angrily back into your robe. “Sorry,” you grumbled, guilty eying the unlit cigarette that hung from his mouth.

“Can I try somethin’?” Arthur asked, and it piqued your curiosity, so you nodded. “C’mere.” Arthur gestured for you to move closer to him, which you did. The man practically radiated heat, you noticed, and your cold body wanted nothing more than to wrap around him. 

Your brain stopped functioning when you felt him gently grasp your chin with gloved fingers, keeping your head still, but not tight enough to keep you locked there. He leaned forward like he was going to kiss you, but he instead pressed the end of his cigarette against yours. “Inhale,” he instructed, and you watched the end of yours glow with red embers as you did, which ignited his.

He pulled away then, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary, and you were certain he could feel the way your heart hammered. “Resourceful,” you muttered, and Athur laughed, smoke spilling from his open mouth. You couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light, but his cheeks were a shade darker than they were moments ago.

“Somethin’ like that. I think ‘desperate’ is the right word, though.” Arthur leaned back on one of his arms, the other moving the cigarette to and from his lips. “Haven’t had a good cigarette in a while.” 

Without even thinking about it, you extended the pack of them for him to take, and you watched him switch his attention from the pack to you. “Take it,” you demanded, shaking it gently when he didn’t budge. “I got plenty of them.”

“I appreciate it, but-”

“Just take the damn thing!” You giggled, practically pressing it against his chest, yet he still made no move to grab it. With a quirk of your brow that said really?, you tucked the pack into one of the various pockets of the coat around your shoulders. 

Arthur shook his head with a mix of defeat and amusement, and even in the low light you could see that smile that made you weak. “You’re stubborn.”

“First I’m strange, and now I’m stubborn. Got any other s words you wanna call me?” 

“I can think of a few.” Arthur had begun to lean near you as you spoke, but you watched his eyes flick down to where a ring sat on your hand and he pulled away. “But none of which I should say to a married woman.”

Right. Holding back a sigh of disappointment, you felt the jacket begin to slip from your shoulders, and you swore you saw Arthur’s arm move to fix it before stopping himself. Securing it back around, you took a final drag from your cigarette before stomping it out with your shoe, then kicking the butt under the porch once it had cooled some.

“Are you busy the next couple of weeks?” You asked, not really knowing what you were saying. 

“I’ve got some things. Why?”

“Oh, nevermind.” You immediately felt silly for even bringing it up.

“You sure?”

“Well…” you took a breath. “Hans is gonna be gone for the next week or two, and you especially know how easy it is to get in here,” you gestured to the house, and Arthur shook his head again. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to ask is if you’d swing by every couple of days? Just to make sure nothin’ has happened? I’ll sleep better knowing there's someone out there who keepin’ an eye on things. And I’ll pay,” you tagged on, and Arthur brought the cigarette back up to his lips, almost contemplative. 

You totally weren’t trying to come up with a reason to see him more. 

“Just every couple of days?”

You nodded. “You don’t even gotta talk to me or anythin’. I’ll leave the money somewhere secure and you can just grab it.”

“And if I wanna talk to you?” Arthur’s voice was surprisingly faint, like someone would if they didn’t have complete confidence in what they were saying. 

Cherishing the knowledge that he didn’t dislike your presence, you couldn’t help the small smile as you responded. “Well, I’ll be around.”

Arthur hummed in response, and he took one final drag until he was stomping it out, kicking it under the porch like you did. The two of you sat in silence after that, simply taking in the serenity of the nighttime forest. Arthur titled his head back, eyes locked on to the forest, and the moonlight graced his features. Why did he look even more gorgeous at night? Pale white light highlighted the angles of his face, his high cheeks, the crook of his nose. You were able to make out a scar along the bridge of his nose, and another on his chin. You wondered if the rest of his body was marked that way.

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring at him until he turned his attention on you, and you couldn’t tell if he was amused or concerned. “You alright there?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you quickly responded. “Just tired.” Whether Arthur believed you, you’d never know. 

“Let’s get you inside, then,” Arthur replied, slowly standing up from the step. You almost wanted to grab his hand and pull him back down, not wanting this little moment to end. But that familiar feeling of guilt returned, and so you let the moment go, dissipating in the air like the smoke of your cigarettes. 

Arthur helped you up, escorting you to your front door with a hand barely not touching your back. You slid the jacket off your body, giving it back to him with a soft thank you. After draping it around one of his arms, he held the door open for you. You were about to step in when you heard him murmur your name. “Have a good night, darlin’.”

“Because of you, it is.” You beamed at him, before ducking into the dimly-lit house. A few seconds later, you heard the door latch shut, and the sound of receding hoofbeats a few minutes after. 

You gave yourself a moment to calm your racing heart, fanning your face to try and alleviate the heat in your cheeks. You were giddy and felt lighter than a feather. Like the last time, you felt like your real self had broken free, if not for a moment. That taste of freedom was delicious, and it was addicting. 

But with that freedom came guilt, and you were screaming at yourself in your head, every nasty word under the sun aimed directly at you in your mind. Married or not, you shouldn’t be letting an almost stranger sit that close to you, let him drape his jacket over you, let him hold your face so gently.

You shouldn’t be reacting this way. 

You shouldn’t be torturing yourself by getting close to him. 

You shouldn’t be getting close to him.

There were so many things you shouldn’t be doing, but you knew you couldn’t stop now. You needed more.

Sighing, you slowly began to make your way upstairs, the stairs creaking with each step. You headed into the washroom that wasn’t attached to your bedroom, this one located across the hall a ways down from where Hans was currently asleep. Washing the remnants of smoke from your body, you dared to glance at yourself in the mirror.

Sure, nothing has changed too drastically since you got married, your face still practically the same. But a deep weariness had made itself at home in your eyes. Your eyes, once filled with wonder and joy at the world, had turned dull, much like Hans’. They seemed to have sunken in more, like the life from your body was being sucked from your body. 

Anger boiled your blood, tears threatening to flow as you stared at the husk of yourself in the mirror. You were angry at your family for marrying you off. You were angry at Hans for agreeing to marry you. You were angry at the world for thinking it was okay.

And you were angry at Arthur for breaking into your house and setting off this chain of events in your mind. 

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. This marriage needed to happen, you told yourself, and it provided some small comfort, but it didn’t ease the sense of betrayal. And you shouldn’t be mad at Arthur, because it wasn’t his fault. You just wanted someone to blame for your treachery. Wiping down your hands, you were sure to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror again as you left.

Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom, the familiar sight of Hans’ form beneath the covers causing a lump to form in your throat. Quickly slipping off the robe, you replaced it with a nightgown before joining him under the covers. 

The comforting smell of Arthur still clung to your skin, lulling you to sleep, your dreams interrupted with visions of him. It was the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The sunlight woke you up, beams interrupting your slumber instead of the voice of your husband. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand on the other side of your bed, and you felt it was cold. A smile grew across your face, an almost child-like giddiness bubbling inside of you. He was gone.

You quickly got out of bed, immediately heading to the closet to get dressed, not wanting to waste any of the precious time you had alone. You had no idea what you were going to do, but you were going to savor every moment. You had glanced at the clock on the way over, and you were surprised to see that you’d slept in until ten.

You decided on a thin, flowy skirt and a light blouse, something that would let you move with ease. As you got dressed, a familiar piece of paper caught your eye, tucked in the drawer containing your socks hastily. You picked up the little thank you note that Arthur had given to you, looking over it fondly. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything to you. 

Tucking it back, you left your closet, heading down the stairs. Even the house seemed happier, sunlight streaming into the windows, and you opened some of them, letting wind clear away the stagnant air. You made yourself a quick breakfast, an assortment of fruits and some bread, cleaning the dishes once you were done. 

You now sat at the dining table, contemplating what you were going to do. Your options were quite limited, as the only way to travel from the house was the carriage, but that was gone. Hans didn’t keep horses, finding the creatures disgusting, leaving you stranded at the house. 

That wasn’t to say you didn't have a way of getting to places. If you really needed to, the main road wasn’t far, about a five minute walk on foot. If you waited long enough, someone would come by with a carriage, and you could ask to hop on. More often than not, they would accept, and you were always sure to hand them a couple of bills for their troubles. It was dangerous, and probably quite stupid, but you enjoyed the thrill of it all. 

But you weren’t in the mood to travel in the city, especially this early, where everyone would be able to clearly see who you were. You slumped back in the chair. Now that the novelty of being alone had worn off, the persistent loneliness was no longer covered up, making you slump even further into your chair.

It was then you finally remembered your little project you’d been working on for some time: your garden. You quickly left the house, a newfound energy in your step as you traveled along the makeshift path you’d made with your steps.Your skirts caught on various plants and sticks, but it didn’t deter you, and you made it to your garden in no time. 

It wasn’t much of a garden, to be completely honest with yourself. Fallen trees stacked up against one side, blocking it from view from the house. You hadn't tended to it for some time, and it showed. All six of your planters were handmade, made from various sticks and planks you’d found scattered about, and you noticed that they were all spilling out their precious dirt, the wood long since rotted. Also, weeds and vines and overgrowth covered over the delicate plants you’d raised, and you made a sad noise. You hoped they weren’t all dead. 

Digging through the thick growth, your fears were confirmed when instead of bright green, you were met with wilted brown. They weren’t anything special, just a few herbs and small vegetables that you’d grown from the remnants of produce you’d used for supper. Still, it was something you’d poured yourself into, and you couldn’t help the way your shoulders sagged, energy wilted just like the plants. 

You were about to move the weeds back over, when from the pile of dead plants, a sliver of fresh green caught your eye. Investigating further, you found a cluster of small growth of thyme and mint, baby sprouts, but still able to become something greater. A victorious laugh left you, and you eagerly began tearing away the invasive greenery, your energy returned.

It took a while, but eventually you’d uncovered everything, the dead plants pulled out, leaving the few remaining live ones in the unstable dirt. Before you could move them, though. you’d have to make new planters. The rest of the day you spent gathering various sticks, planks, and pieces of bark, creating a substantial pile in the garden.

By the time night came around, you were exhausted, covered in dirt and sweat, but surprisingly content. You bathed and, no matter how much you wanted to stay up and wait to see if Arthur would stop by, you went to bed. You said every couple of days, not every night, for God’s sake. 

The next day was spent working on the planters, taking many breaks inside. It took too many tires for you to make one that would stay together, but by the end of the night you’d made one. 

The third day arrived, and you worked again on the planters. It was the end of the third night when you heard hoofbeats come down your road, and you felt your heart beat excitedly. You were still close to the house, so you were able to hear Arthur call out your name. “Over here!” You responded, but you doubted he could see you because your back was pressed against the stack of fallen logs, blocking you from view from the house. “In the woods!”

It took a few moments, but you eventually heard branches crack and leaves rustle, as well as the light noise of his spurs. “Hello, Arthur,” you turned your head back to greet the man as he approached your side. “I’ll get your payment in a moment, just let me finish this.”

You turned back to the planter in your lap, and you saw out of the corner of your eye as Arthur crouched down next to you, watching what you were doing with an unreadable expression. “What’s all this?” He asked as you tied a knot of the rope, testing the stability of the planter with a tug. When it held, you smiled proudly. Another one done. 

“This,” you gestured around you, “is my garden. And this,” you pointed to the now finished planter, “is one of the last planters I need to make before I replace all the old ones.”

“Odd place for a garden,” Arthur noted, standing up again. Again, he helped you up, and you smiled gratefully at him. He wasn’t wearing gloves this time, and you were able to feel the rough skin on yours. 

“I know,” you replied, wiping dirt from your hands on your skirt. “But it ain’t like I got any other place for it.”

“Whaddya mean? You’ve got a whole empty lawn,” he said with disbelief, and you shook your head.

“I guess I mean I can’t. I ain’t even supposed to have this.”

“You… can’t?”

“It ain’t ‘ladylike or proper’ to keep a garden, apparently,” you scoffed, and began to make your way back to the house. “C’mon, let’s get you your money.”

A part of you hoped that he wouldn’t just take the money and leave as you walked back toward the house, but you wouldn’t blame him if he did. The two of you idly chatted, you leading the way back, Arthur not far behind. 

Looking back as you talked, you were able to appreciate him visually as you kept eye contact. He had the same red button up on  from earlier in the week, sleeves rolled up at the elbow, and the top two buttons undone. He had forgone the bandana around his neck entirely today, and you were thankful for it. He kept his hands on his gunbelt as he walked, the act far more enticing than it should be. You had to move your eyes before you could begin to stare. 

Reaching the house, Arthur held the door open for you, hesitantly following in after you. It was strange, seeing Arthur in your house properly. He looked very out of place, the antiquated decorations of high society a harsh contrast of the rugged outdoorsman. 

“I’m gonna go grab the money, so make yourself at home. And,” you pointed to his boots, “take those off. You tracked mud in my kitchen last time.”

He held his hands up defensively. “My apologies,” he chuckled, but he complied, setting his boots next to your shoes. It was almost familiar, seeing your shoes next to his, and a pang of longing for a life you’d never had or will have tore through your chest. 

Heading upstairs, you pushed those feelings away as you entered your bedroom. Reaching under the bed, you grabbed the lockbox you kept stashed, hidden between the mattress and the frame, setting it on your bed. Opening it, you grabbed a few bills from it, totalling to about five dollars. You pulled from your own personal money, not wanting Hans to question why he was suddenly down a bit of money when he returned. Tucking it back under, you hurriedly made your way back downstairs to Arthur.  

He hadn’t sat down yet. Instead, you watched as he traveled around the living room, examining the various photographs that decorated the shelves and the mantle of the fireplace. He was frowning as he looked over your and Hans’ wedding photo, but he broke his gaze from them as you stood next to him. “Here,” you handed him the money. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmured, taking the bills gently, putting them away in one of his pockets. 

The two of you stood in silence after that. You weren’t quite sure what to say. A part of you wanted to invite him to stay for a drink, but that was risky, pushing to something less than proper. He took the framed wedding photo into his hands, and the both of you observed it.

You looked like a spooked deer in the photo, your eyes wide and staring into the camera. Hans had his arm linked in yours, and it was the only time you’d seen him smile, even though it was forced. The dress you were wearing was a poofy mess of fabric and ribbon, and you remembered how much it itched your skin.

“The dress is ugly, I know,” you joke, getting a chuckle from the man. “I’d never choose to wear somethin’ like that.”

“It seems like you don’t got a choice in a lot of things,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with him; it was obvious you’d be lying. 

Arthur set the frame back on the fireplace mantle, and when his hand returned to his side, you felt it brush against yours, but a little too hard to be accidental. It was a simple yet comforting touch, and for a moment that loneliness tormenting you eased. 

But just as it came, it left, Arthur taking a few steps away from you. Turning your head to watch him, you felt disappointment overwhelm you. “I-” he cleared his throat. “I have to go.” 

“Okay,” you whispered as he got his boots back on. 

His mouth opened and shut as he struggled to formulate words, and he ended up just sighing. “I’ll see you later, darlin’.”

Nodding, you turned your attention back to the photo, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. You heard the door latch shut, and like your shoes by the door, you were now alone.

You stayed inside for the rest of the night.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next day arrived, and with it came rain. Lots of it.

It pounded against the roof of your house, and you found the sound of it comforting, distracting you from your miserable thoughts. Because of that, you spent most of the day in the attic cleaning, where you could feel the rain if you pressed your hand against the roof.

The following day was a clear one, not a single cloud in the sky. You finished up the planters, arranging them how you liked. You rewarded yourself with a long soak in the bath, spending nearly an hour in the tub. 

For both of those days, your mind kept wandering to Arthur, but not on the reason you thought it would. You kept going back to his comment about how you didn’t have a choice in a lot of things. In the back of your mind, you always knew that, but to hear it out loud, it had been staggering. 

You didn’t let yourself think about it for too long, however. The sacrifice of your own choice in life was a necessary one, you told yourself, and itIt was selfish of you to want otherwise. Your family would be out on the street if it wasn’t for you, and besides, you should be grateful for the life Hans has provided for you.

So why was it so hard to convince yourself to believe your thoughts?

You dreamed that night, for the first time in a while. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it still had you gasping when you woke. It was a domestic scene, and you were in the kitchen making breakfast. A sleep-laden Arthur came into the scene, brown hair tousled and in his face. He wrapped his arms around your body, bare chest pressing into your back, and he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck. It felt so real, and you swore you could feel the scratch of his beard on your neck when you woke. 

Getting out of bed the next day had been a struggle. You angrily grumbled at the birds as they taunted you with their lighthearted music, and you debated rolling over a smashing a pillow over your head and going back to sleep. 

Eventually, you managed to leave the bed, getting dressed and eating breakfast like you’d done in all the previous days. The monotony was getting boring, but there wasn’t anything you could do about that. 

Today you worked on filling the planters with dirt, and it took a surprising amount of time to find some that wasn’t too rocky or too muddy, and of course it had to be a significant walk from the planters. All you had to transport the dirt was a small shovel that you stored in a hollow trunk nearby, and you spent the day carrying each precious shovelful across the forest

By the time early evening rolled around, you were exhausted, your hands cramping and shoulders aching from the shovel, but you now had six planters filled with dirt, and the baby sprouts placed in each one. The dirt was still damp enough from the rainfall earlier, so you didn’t have to worry about watering today.

Leaning your back against the fallen trunks, you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of the warm sun rays against your skin. The birds sounded less taunting than they did in the morning, and you let yourself get lost in their songs.

So lost, in fact, that you failed to notice when they stopped, spooked by the sound of a voice and footfalls. You jumped when your name was said rather loudly beside you, your eyes snapping open and staring at the creator of the sound. 

A concerned Arthur stood above you, hand extended like he was about to shake your shoulder. “Oh, hello Arthur,” you grinned up at him.

“You scared me there,” he half-laughed, pulling you to your feet. “I’ve been callin’ your name for a while now.”

“Well, as you can see,” you brushed your hands on your skirt, “I’m still very much alive.” You were afraid that the tense ending of your last interaction would’ve carried over to today, but you’re glad it didn’t. “So, whaddya think?” You gestured to your garden. 

“It’s… cute.”

“Cute?” You scoffed. “You mean to tell me I’ve been working all day for the last week just for it to be cute? You insult me, Arthur.”

Arthur laughed, and that damn smile adorned his lips. Looking away, you felt your cheeks warm.

“I left the money at the house again. C’mon.” 

The walk back to the house was short, like always, and Arthur asked you about the plants you were growing. You explained to him the way you’d found them earlier in the week, recalling the small little sprouts you’d found. 

“Plants are incredible in that way. No matter what the world throws at them, no matter what conditions they’re met with, they always seem to just… come back. Their resilience is incredible!” Looking back at Arthur, he was watching you with an indiscernible expression. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all poetic there.”

“Don’t apologize,” Arthur shook his head. “I like that, though. Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Oh? Who?” You were genuinely curious, wanting to know more about Arthur and the people he associated with. 

“There’s this amazin’ woman, who, no matter what anyone tells her or what society deems is right, does what she wants, does what makes her happy. And when she gets dragged down, I’ve seen her bounce right back up, ready to take on the world.”

“Maybe you’re the poetic one,” you teased. “She sounds like someone I want to meet.”

You missed the look that Arthur gave you, like he couldn’t believe you weren’t catching on. “I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

Eventually the two of you came into the house, and Arthur lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right back, then you’ll be good to go.” You turned to head up the stairs, but you halted. “Unless…” Don’t you dare. “Unless you want to stay for dinner?” 

When he didn’t respond, you panicked a little. “You don’t have to, I just figured cause it’s almost dinnertime, you’d like somethin’ to eat.” Silence. “You know what, forget I said anythin’,” you looked away, embarrassed, and resumed entering the house. 

“You’re spoilin’ me, darlin’,” Arthur laughed breathlessly with a smile. 

“Is that a yes?”

He nodded, and a relieved but genuine smile fell on your lips. “You know where the living room is,” you laughed, toeing off your shoes. Arthur did the same, setting his boot next to yours again, and he made his way to the living room as you went upstairs. 

The process of grabbing the money was no different this time, and you were about to head back downstairs when you caught a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors in the bedroom.

Dirt streaked across your face from where you had wiped away sweat, and your clothes were in no better shape. Embarrassment once again overcame you, the ideals that had been ingrained into your brain for years making you feel so. No woman of your standing should be playing in the dirt, then inviting people into her home while covered in it. 

You quickly changed clothes, then headed into the en suite bathroom to wash down your face and body, even go so far as to fix up your hair, pulling out any debris that got caught in it. Satisfied, you headed back downstairs to Arthur, who sat on one of the various couches. He had taken his hat off, setting it next to him, and you watched him run his hands through it. 

“It wasn’t very nice of you to not tell me I was covered in dirt,” was what you said as you approached him, holding out the bills for him. “Sorry that it took so long.”

Arthur just chuckled, standing up in front of you, leaving his hat behind. He took the bills from you with a thankful nod of his head, tucking them into his pocket. “You missed a spot,” he said as he tucked the money away.

“Really?” You began to wipe at your face, frowning when Arthur began to laugh. “Where?”

“Here,” he muttered, and you felt two hands gently wrap around your wrists, tugging them away from your face. Releasing one, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe at your cheek, the rest of his hand resting on your jaw. His cerulean eyes flicked across your face, like he was trying to memorize the details of it, the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. “There,” he whispered, running the thumb across again for good measure before dropping his hand. 

Arthur stared at you for a moment, like even he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done. All thoughts went out the window, your mind and legs jelly. He took a step back, giving an appropriate amount of room between the two of you. Don’t leave, you were pleading in your head. “I-I’ll get started on dinner,” you stammer out. “If you’d like to get washed up, the bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the left.”

He nodded, taking a few more steps back. “I’ll be right back, then.” And with that, he turned up the stairs, leaving you stunned, alone, in the living room. You ran your fingers over where his hand had just been, and you laughed with shock and delight. You expected to feel guilt, and you did, but it was heavily muffled by the sheer joy radiating in your chest. 

The sound of water rushing through the pipes of the house broke you out of your daze, your hand returning to your side. Right. Dinner. 

Despite the tiredness you felt from hauling dirt everywhere the entire day, you felt energized as you entered the kitchen. You weren’t going to make anything elaborate, mainly because you were starting to run low on supplies. You’d have to run to Rhodes sometime during the next week, using your own money, of course. 

Dinner was going to be two small steaks, with diced potatoes and grilled green beans. The smell of the food quickly permeated the kitchen, making your stomach grumble hungrily. Arthur emerged from the bathroom when dinner was over halfway done, startling you because you had your back to him, and because your mind was constantly distracted with thoughts of him. 

“That smells amazin’,” he commented, causing you to nearly drop the utensil you were using to flip the food. Turning, he held up his hands apologetically. 

“I should’ve had you keep your boots on. Your spurs are loud,” you grumbled lightheartedly. “How are you so quiet?” You kept having to turn your head to talk to him, so he walked up next to you at the stove.

“Years of practice,” Arthur responded, which didn’t clear anything up.

“Practice for what?” 

Arthur hesitated to speak, and you rolled your eyes. “Arthur, I caught you breakin’ into my house. If you’re a thief, just say it.”

“I ain’t a thief.” He replied defensively. 

“Sure, whatever you say. I just sure as hell know you ain’t a deputy.”

Arthur laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“So why are you pretendin’ to be one?”

The man beside you sighed. “It’s a long story… and one I ain’t so sure I can tell yet.”

Silence fell over the two of you, the only sound the sizzling of food as it cooked. It was you who spoke first. “So who are you then, Arthur Morgan?”

Arthur didn’t respond at first, and you watched his struggle to come up with an answer. “I ain’t quite sure,” he finally said, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“You’re… not sure?”

He shrugged. “I’m a lot of things, I suppose. I guess I can’t just put it into one word."

“Alright, how ‘bout this then. Whenever you’re not here, what’re you doin’?”

“I… I’m workin’. Odd jobs and stuff like that.”

“Do those odd jobs include thievin’?”

Exasperated, Arthur  made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. “I suppose it does. Houses, banks, trains. Whatever gets me money, I guess.”

Grinning at your small victory at his admission, you poked him lightly in the chest. “So you’re an outlaw then.”

“And if I am?”

It was your turn to shrug. “Doesn’t change anythin’, really.”

Arthur noticeably relaxed at your answer. “Good.”

“I’m assumin’ Dutch and Bill are outlaws too, then.”

“Jesus, woman, is this an interrogation?” You heard Arthur mutter, and you laughed. 

“Sorry, sorry, just curious.” Your gaze went back to the food, and you noticed that everything was almost done cooking. “Was I right though?”

“I… Yes.”

You hummed in response. Bill you were expecting, but the other man you weren’t. He looked like he belonged in high society with you, not living a life from the reaches of the law. Maybe appearances aren't always to be believed, then. “Thank you.”

Arthur raised a brow. “For?”

“Answering my questions. And not just brushing them off. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Arthur responded, not expecting thanks for such a simple thing. “You need any help with this?” He gestured to the food on the stove. “I ain’t much of a cook, but if you need help…”

Never once in your marriage had Hans offered to help you as you cooked, even when you had to make large amounts for dinner parties or guests. A warm smile found its way on your face, and you shook your head. “I think I got it. It’s almost done, anyway. You wanna grab some plates for me?” You pointed to a nearby cupboard. 

“‘Course.” Arthur stepped away from you, fulfilling your request, and your eyes followed him as he moved across the kitchen. Just like the shoes by the door, something about this just felt right, even though everything in your brain was screaming that this was wrong. This domesticity, this familiarity, everything was wrong.

But damn if it didn’t feel good, like something you didn't know was missing inside of you had been returned. 

Arthur returned a few moments later with two plates in his hand, setting them on the counter beside you. You spoke as you began to lead the food onto it. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll bring the plates out shortly. Utensils are in the drawer there” You ended with a point. 

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Want anythin’ to drink?”

“Whatever you’re havin’.” Arthur’s voice was distant as he moved away toward the dining room. 

Wine, then. The plates were hot in your hands as you brought them out. Arthur sat at one end of the table, where Hans would sit, and you set it down in front of him. You faltered for a second as you debated where to set yours. Normally, you’d sit on the other end of the table, with four chairs of space between you and Hans, but you figured it would be rude to do that right now. Besides, the selfish part of you wanted to be as close to Arthur as you could.

Leaving a chair’s space, you set your plate down before returning to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine, which you opened, and two glasses. Arthur stood when you returned, pulling your chair out, pushing you in when you sat. “You sure you’re an outlaw?” You joked, pouring out two glasses of the red liquid.

“I’m certain.” He took the glass of wine from you once you offered it. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Of course.” Picking up the utensils that Arthur had grabbed for the both of you, you both dug in. You kept an eye on Arthur as he took the first bite, feeling self conscious of your cooking. He stilled, mid-chew, and you immediately thought the worst. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. You took a bite, and you thought it didn’t taste bad, but you were partial to your own cooking. “That’s really good.”

Oh. “I’m glad.” You tried to not sound overly relieved. 

Arthur took another bite, groaning appreciatively. You really did try not to memorize the sound of it. “This is the best thing I’ve tasted in a while.”

“Do I even want to know what you possibly could’ve been eating that makes this taste incredible.”

“Probably not,” Arthur admitted. 

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chat, until Arthur asked a question that had you stopping mid-bite, fork handing in the air. “This ain’t poisoned, right?” He asked it as a joke, but there was a hint of genuine worry in his eyes.

“I sure hope not,” you responded, finishing the bite. Arthur didn’t elaborate further, only responding with a small noise. “Well, you can’t just ask that and then not explain. Is… is that something that’s happened before?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Arthur chuckled humorlessly. “There’s a pig farm north of here I stopped by two weeks ago. Friendly couple invited me in, we shared a drink, and before I knew it I was wakin’ up in a muddy pit with my money gone.” 

You had stared at him, shocked, as he recounted his story. “You’re kiddin’?”

“I wish I was. Wasn’t the first person they’d done it to, either. You wanna know the worst thing?” Arthur asked, leaning into you. You nodded, leaning in as well. “The couple? They were brother and sister, and their mother was their first victim.”

You were horrified and intrigued all at the same time. “Brother and sister? Oh my God,” you shuddered. “Did you get your money back?” Arthur nodded. “There are some weird folks out there.”

“You meet plenty of ‘em when you’re on the road. I don’t think there’s enough time in the world to tell you ‘bout them.” 

At the mention of time, you glanced out one of the nearby windows, finding it nearly pitch black outside. Arthur glanced outside as well, an apologetic look on his face when his eyes went back on you. “You have to go, don’t you?”

“I’m ‘fraid so,” Arthur sighed. You were happy to see that his plate had been entirely cleared, and he finished off the last of the wine in his glass. Standing, you cleared the table, bringing the items over and setting them in the sink. Arthur followed in behind you, carrying the half-full bottle of wine.

“Thank you, again,” you heard Arthur say, and you waved him off.

“You don’t gotta keep thankin’ me, Arthur. It was truly my pleasure.”

“Do you need help cleain’-”

“Arthur! Go!” You laughed, shooing him away. “I got this.”

Conceding, he headed to the doorway, putting his shoes on. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hat on the couch, about to be left behind. Quickly grabbing it, you set it on his head as he was leaning forward, securing his shoes. He let out a confused noise, but he smiled when he realized what you’d done. Standing up back at full height, he secured it on, flashing you a smile. “How’d I look?” He jested, a playful glint in his eye.

Like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Like an outlaw,” you responded. “You just need a cigar or somethin’ and you’d really look like one.”

“That reminds me…” Arthur dug into a sachet strapped across his body. Once he found what he was looking for he presented it to you. It was a small silver lighter, which looked hilariously small in his hands. “Since your last one was a ‘piece of shit’, I figured you’d want a new one.”

“For me?” You asked and Arthur responded with a look that read uh, yeah?

“It ain’t much, I know-”

“Thank you!” You cut him off, beaming brightly at him. “It means a lot that you remembered.”

“Alright, well…” you watched as he rubbed the back of neck, not knowing how to respond to the praise, “have a good night, darlin’.”

“Stay safe, Arthur.”

With a final nod, Arthur left. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you did neither, simply heading upstairs to your bedroom. Dishes could be done in the morning, you decided. 

Your mind raced as you got ready for the night. You knew he didn’t mean anything besides being nice with getting you the lighter, but it left your heart happy that someone not only listened to your grievances, small or large, and did something to fix them. 

Slipping under the sheets, you fiddled with it in your hands. You struck it, the spark catching almost immediately, creating a steady flame. Setting in on the nightstand beside you, you held on to the happiness you’d felt the entire night, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

You pretended to not feel a new sensation growing in your heart, something you wouldn’t dare name.

[askinkiskarma]

lllicit Affairs | Chapter VI: Death by a Thousand Cuts

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have a dark secret that would change everything between you - and neither of you are willing to share.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, Lo'ak x reader, jealous!Neteyam, both main characters thirsting for each other, mentions of lab work, disease, blood, cursing.

Word Count: 7,2k words

A/N: Chapter 6 is the chapter that sets EVERYTHING in motion for what's to come. There is a LOT to come, a lot of drama and angst, maybe some smut (? 😉) and this chapter is meant as a stepping stone to the beginning of the end. Also, realised I forgot to ever mention, that if the dialogue is ever italicised, that usually means the conversation is in Na'vi, I don't know how I have never made it clearer, but here we are.

Thank you so much for everyone who's been reading and asking to be tagged, I never expected this to gain any traction and I am so grateful for people enjoying it x

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave you too much but it wasn't enough But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts

One second. 

“Just one second, Neteyammm!”, you whined, as he was trying to remove the blanket from your currently very comfortable and very warm body. 

“It’s late, come on! Early bird catches the worm, isn’t that what you people say?”

“Nobody says that, I don’t know who told you this lie.” 

“It was you!!” he says, and he’s laughing at your whinging while trying to remove the blanket. He’s not trying that hard, considering he would make an easy job out of the task if he used a tenth of his actual force, but he couldn’t bear the thought of bringing you any unnecessary distress. You had enough of that in your life, and he wanted to be a source of comfort for you, a shelter in the storm. 

You scooted on one side of the bed close to the edge, and left a big gap which you brought to his attention by patting it aggressively. 

“Press the button on the audio player and lay with me, please? I don’t feel like going out today.”

He couldn’t say no to you, he realises. He would follow you anywhere in this world, do anything you asked of him, regardless how stupid or reckless or crazy it was. He would always follow you, for the rest of time, and he was happy about it. 

A song he liked came on, one that he’s heard you play before and there was no doubt in his mind that he liked it better when you sang it. He circled the bed and lay in it, next to you, in the dark. 

“Thank you, light of my life.” You attached yourself to him, arms sprawled across his bare chest and legs carelessly placed on top of abdomen and hips, and sighed contently. He could feel your warm breaths on his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head to you and placed a small kiss on top of your head and listened to the soft tune filling up the room. 

“Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you”

“You’re annoying.”

“I know I am, but you love me anyway.”

I do, Neteyam thought. I really do…

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction. You stared at the vial of blood that shattered all across the floor, all across you and your mind was blank. Almost robotically, you made your way to one of the benches and got some paper rolls and the IMS laying next to it. You carefully cleaned all of it, and spit whatever made its way to your mouth to the floor to be removed. When you were sure everything was gone, you went to the sink and removed your goggles and gloves, and scrubbed yourself clean. You felt yourself moving, picking up a bucket of water with some floor cleaner, felt yourself adding disinfectant to it and moping thoroughly, but it was like an out-of-body experience. Like you were merely a puppet executing orders from above. Cleaning everything took about an hour, after which you made your way back to your room slowly, deliberately. 

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night looking over everything you and the rest of the scientists have ever found out about this virus. You didn’t know its way of transmission. Maybe you had nothing to worry about, maybe it’s not by blood. You knew it’s not by air, you’ve seen plenty of people infected whose family was fine. So even if you do get infected, the people at the lab should be fine. Your friends would be fine. He would be fine. 

Next, incubation period. That’s a tough one, in-vitro studies show it takes the virus anywhere from 2 to 12 months to show symptoms. You don’t know how that changes in humans. You don’t know any of this shit for humans. You could be perfectly fine, you could die within the month. The thought made your blood run cold. 

You sat in your chair for the remainder of the night. Unmoving, unthinking. 

That’s how Norm found you.

“Hey, Ace. What are you doing up?”

You scrambled for a lie.

“Just woke up, actually. Listen, if you are going to check on the boy, can you please bring my supplies to the tent and tell the Sullys I won’t be in today? I was too exhausted to run any experiments yesterday so I will do it today.” 

“Oh… is everything alright? You haven’t missed a day in the village since you got your Avatar.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just worried about the boy and want to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later, if possible.”

“Alright, I can bring you back some of his blood to run as well?”

“NO!” 

Norm’s eyes widened in shock at your response and you knew you fucked up, you knew you slipped up. Calm yourself… 

“It’s just not necessary at the moment since I have other blood and I don’t want to overwhelm him, if it’s not imperative. I will retrieve some blood when I check on him tomorrow.”

Norm looked at you with a concerned look, but eventually relented.

“Ok, whatever you think, Ace.” 

“Thanks, Norm.” 

“Let me know what you find tonight. I’ll tell Jake, but they might not be happy with you.”

“You can explain it’s an emergency, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

 

You struggled to get up and get your legs to not want to collapse beneath you. Eventually, you made your way to the sink and washed, you scrubbed your face as hard as you could without removing a layer of skin, and your teeth until you felt the familiar taste of metal coat your teeth. You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world. You hoped it could undo the damage that would plague you for the rest of your most likely very short life. 

Luckily, most scientists seemed to be out. Claire was teaching Na’vi kids English at Grace’s old school that Jake deemed fit to be reopened, Max left with Norm to check on the situation of the village, and most of the Avatars would be out on missions or training with Jake. You made your way to the quiet halls to one of the labs, and prepared for your long day ahead. This will be hard to do by yourself, but not impossible. 

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough. Next comes the blood. Finding a vein has always been hard for people to do on you, and it’s not gotten any easier in time, so after poking yourself a few times in the wrong place, you manage to get enough blood to run experiments on. 

Hours of sample preparation, incubation, pipetting and running went by at an excruciatingly slow pace, like the universe was revelling in making every second of torture last forever. You thanked your lucky stars of the progress made in lab equipment and that you didn’t have to spent days on one PCR, like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago. Regardless, it took most of the day for you to do everything you needed, check for all the proteins and markers you knew were deregulated with this virus, and by the early hours of night, you were done. 

Aș people were starting to return to the hub as another day was nearing its end, you retreated back to your bedroom to work on the data analysis. You did not want to see anyone, did not want to speak to anyone until you knew at least some things. The less you talked, the less lies that had to come out of your mouth, and that seemed ideal to you. 

Inputting the data and having to wait on some software to give you your literal death sentence felt so tragic is was almost comical, and you had to stop and ask yourself if you were some serial killer in a past life to warrant all the pain and misery life seemed adamant to throw at you. For the first time in so long you couldn’t even remember, things were going… well. You were strong, and doing well, and lived outside of the walls of this lab. You had a chance at something more, you had a chance at maybe one day healing and working through your issues and maybe even coming out the other side a better, healthier version of yourself. You had a chance at love.

And there it was… positive. One second.

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF  STAGE I: DENIAL

Your blood became poison in the span of half a day, but at least you now knew it wasn’t transmitted through air. That means no one else would have to suffer because of you. The thought made you weirdly calm, and you realised you didn’t care about your own health all along. No, you weren’t sad anymore, just relieved. A wide smile appeared on your face at the results, and you jumped out of the chair with enthusiasm at the great news. Everybody would be ok. Norm, Max, they would all be ok. You will handle all the virus experiments and blood samples from now on. They wouldn’t have reason to doubt you or question you, not when it made most sense anyway, since you were always in the village and knew the protocols and techniques the best, anyway. You would go on the same way as you had, and no one had to know or suffer because of your mistakes. 

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight. 

You were up before dawn again, and ready to get started on your day at the village. You were looking forward to gun training with Jake, and finally putting those years of practice to good use. You found Norm deep in thought in the link room, and he didn’t register you walking in until you patted his shoulder and he jumped out of his skin.

 

“Jesus, Ace. You scared the shit out of me.” 

“I noticed. Why so jumpy, Norm?” 

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

“…turning on the linkpod?” 

“No one likes a smartass, you know?” 

“So how was the village yesterday? How is the boy?” 

“He’s alright, still not great, but his vitals are stable for now.” You noticed he did not answer your question about the village, and found slight panic rising in your chest.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen in the village?” 

“No, Ace, everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry about everything, you know. How did the experiments go yesterday?” 

“The virus is not airborne, it seems to be transmitted by blood, so we need to be very careful handling samples.” 

“We always are. But good work, good to have some concrete evidence finally. I’ll look over your analysis soon.”

“You know, I’m not quite done with it, so maybe wait and we can look over it together?”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

You didn’t buy Norm’s pathetic attempts at deflecting the subject of the village, but you did not want to fight him so early in the day, so you guess you had to find out what happened for yourself. You woke up in your Avatar body soon enough, and could already tell the village was already awake and buzzing with the perspective of a new day. The guitar sitting on the ground next to your sleeping mat caught your eye, and you smiled softly at the memory which now seems a life away. Your fingers lingered on the chords and you strummed it gently a few times, enjoying the sounds that seemed to settle in your heart. Adjusting your braids in the small mirror you brought with you a few weeks ago, you made your way out of your tent and straight into Neteyam’s chest with a loud thud. 

“What the fuck?” You say, indignantly and then look up to find Neteyam watching you with an unreadable expression adorning his beautiful face. 

“Hi.” He says, and tries to muster a small smile. 

“Hi…? Is there any particular reason you have decided to attack me first thing in the morning?” 

“I was just coming to get you, I heard the guitar playing. I didn’t think you would be running straight into me. Are you ready? We can spend the morning tracking a herd of Talioang that the hunter party spotted a few clicks south of the village. It will be good practice for you.” 

“…alright? Can I get some food first? I’m famished.”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

“I have food that Ma packed for us, we can eat in the forest? I’d really rather get a move on as soon as possible, this will most likely take most of today, anyway.”

“Is there a particular reason you seem so eager for me to leave? You and Norm have both been acting weird today, and you are both terrible liars.”

Neteyam gave you a hard look. “Let’s go, Y/N. Unlike what you like to think, you don’t need to know everything, and not everything concerns you. Let’s go, now.” Nothing’s changed, you realised bitterly. Last night was just a fluke and you hated yourself in that moment for letting your guard down. 

“You can be a real dick sometimes, Neteyam.” You said and took off without looking at him. 

You ran for about 5 clicks without checking behind you, knowing full well he was following you, your hearing being one of the many senses that heightened in this body. You stopped suddenly at the sight of a huge footprint, one you could identify as the Sturmbeest, or a Talioang, like it was known to the Na’vi. Soon enough, you saw the ground littered with them, and began carefully tracking the beasts.

“Alright. How far would you say they are and which direction?” Neteyam asked, approaching you slowly. He was back to teaching mode, and you tried your best to learn, instead of recoiling and telling him to go to hell, which is what you really wanted to do. 

You touched the ground and felt it with your fingers, trying to assess the moisture level and deepness of the mark. You thought about for a while.

“I’d say they’re quite fresh. Maybe this morning? Taloioang move slowly, about 1 click every hour or two, so I’d say we’ll find them about 2 clicks east?”

He didn’t even have to touch the ground to be able to assess it. He was impressive. 

“Good. Let’s go. We shouldn’t run, they have good hearing and the wind is blowing east, which means they’ll be able to smell us if we’re not careful. We will take a roundabout way and approach them from the south.” 

You both made your way through the forest and it was your turn to follow him, although you stayed close behind and tried to look around you and pick up on clues, tiny sounds and movements, trying to learn, trying to see. “Eyes on the tracks, Y/N.” 

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told. Eventually, Neteyam let you deem the appropriate time to stray from the tracks and move south to avoid being spotted. Soon enough, you saw the herd of prodigious beings, bathing in a shallow lake. You made your way slowly, sneaking on the ground, with Neteyam close to you, and you felt his arms grazing your sides every inch of the way. 

The herd was protecting the calves, 5 in total, playing and splashing in the clear water. You watched in amazement, just enjoying the view of these seemingly ferocious beasts that in the moment, felt more like a family watching their children play at the local pool. You couldn’t believe the beauty and mild predisposition, the complex nature of these animals whose equivalents were long gone on Earth, long decimated by humans and their needless desire for wealth and acquisition, for mindless cruelty. You felt your stomach drop at the realisation that soon, this could be Pandora, if you didn’t fight will all your being in the upcoming war. 

You felt a sudden gentle pressure on your lower back, a pressure you quickly identified as Neteyam’s hand and you shuddered at the touch. He neared his mouth to your ears, and you felt his warm breath tickling your neck, a sudden warmth pooling in your lower abdomen. 

“You’re not allowed to kill anything yet, but I want you to show me how you would go about it. Show me your bow work, how would you aim from this position.”

You slowly removed your bow from from your person and sat up, in a now crouched stance, and loaded the arrow, doing your best to accommodate for the uncomfortable position you were in and the tight space you were sharing with another person. You held your breath, engaged your core, and aimed as if you were going to release your arrow on the target about 300m away. Neteyam’s large hand touched your upper thigh, by your left hip and squeezed gently. Your arm dropped suddenly and snapped your head in his direction. He didn’t react to your sudden snap, instead talking lowly, so as to not give your location away. “Your leg is not in a position by which you can maximise release. You will have more power in the shot if you place this knee on the ground and lean into it.” 

You wanted to take that hand and either break it or redirect it on other parts of your body that felt like they would explode if they didn’t feel him, have his touch provide the relief that was desperately yearned for, needed. You wanted to scream at him or make him coax the screams out of you like a war-cry, wild and desperate. You wanted to kill him, you wanted him to kill you, slowly and painfully, taking his time on your body until you were falling apart at the seams around him. You hated him, you loved him. You hated him.

You gave him a hard look, an angry look directed at your thigh, and he removed his hand from you. You wondered if he knew, knew what he was doing, wondered if he felt the same way, if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here. You hoped he did, hope it ate him alive, the yearning and the desire. Because that’s what it was doing to you, what he was doing to you. You turned your attention back to the herd and adjusted your position based on his advice. He was right, you could tell right away, as you felt a lot more power when aiming the arrow this time. 

“Much better. We can go now, we will give the location to the hunting party and the will be able to secure us dinner for a couple of weeks from the back of a couple of Ikrans.”

 

You made your way out of their surroundings, and slowly started walking back to the village. After about half an hour, he stopped on a rock and removed the food he was carrying in a pouch. You didn’t join him, preferring to keep your distance and thus a clear mind, not being able to afford being weak around him anymore. 

“I thought you were famished.” He says, with a slight smile. You shook your head and turned around, taking in the views of the forest, distracting yourself with the flowers reaching out their neon green tendrils towards you. You kneeled next to one, and touched them gently, enjoying the way they cupped around your hand and tugged, like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you. You heard him sigh loudly.

“Sorry for being a dick. Just had a fight with mum and dad, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I am sorry. Come eat, please? I don’t want you passing out on me, you’re not as easy to carry as you used to be when you were human.” 

You remained on your knees still, focused on only the plants and your gentle tug-of-war. You knew how much pressure Neteyam was under, has been for pretty much his entire life. A prodigy created… or made, no one could really know for sure, he began training when most babies learn to walk, and speak, and play. He has never had a childhood the way Lo’ak, or Kiri, or Tuk, or pretty much any other Na’vi children did, mostly fleeting moments of bliss in between a lot more moments of stress and struggle. He never complained, though. Not out loud, not to anyone else but you, once he realised you were a safe haven from the storm. You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud. You have always wanted to protect him from the world, a world that demanded so much of him, that asked for a sacrifice of which it was undeserving. Being Olo’yektan, leading the people, being the one person everyone relied on was a great honour, a great achievement - one you didn’t think he wanted, but was never given the chance to decline. 

“What happened?” 

You walked slowly towards the rock he was laying on, and sat at its foot, crossing your legs on the slightly damp grass. You grabbed a piece of jerky from the pile of food and slowly chewed through it, humming in appreciation at the smoky taste and rich flavour of the meat. 

Neteyam grimaced and didn’t look at you, choosing to focus instead of his arm guards, picking at something that was clearly not there. “More sacrifices I need to make in the name of the future, of the people.” 

“I see you still haven’t learnt to say no, even after all this time apart.” 

Neteyam’s hand froze in midair, his eyes widening slightly - it was the first time you brought up the year apart. He braced himself for what he thought was the beginning of the end, of you finally demanding answers he didn’t think would ever satisfy you, but no other words left your lips.  

“I can’t say no. I owe my parents everything I have, everything I am. This village, this life, is all I know. My dad gave up on everything he knew to stand up for our people, to make sure we’d get a future worth living, a family worth saving, a world still worth fighting for. He became Olo’yektan despite all that stood against him because he loved my mum, loved us, even then, even before we were born. My grandpa died defending this village, watching home tree get decimated in front of his eyes, with only the people’s safety on his mind and tongue. I see that bow that my mum cherishes like a gift from Eywa herself and I want to be worthy of it, someday. And if it means giving up some things, maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.” 

“Maybe whatever you’re giving up is making room for something ever better, Neteyam. Sometimes we want something so bad, we can’t see the forest for the trees.” 

He looks at you confused for a second.

“That’s a saying. What I’m trying to say is maybe you are over focused on something you want right now, that you think is the best thing for you, but maybe you just are not focusing on the bigger picture. Maybe in the future, whatever you’re giving up now will make room for something that was much better for you all along.”

Disappointment filled his chest at your words. Neteyam looked at you with deep sadness marking his features, and he could see you were trying to think of things to say that could make him feel better. In all honesty, he wanted - needed - you to tell him to be selfish, and trust his gut, and follow what he knew was right in his heart, but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds. 

You felt an overwhelming sense of grief at the realisation that you will never get to see him become Olo’yektan, see him become the man everybody knew he was. He would never be yours, and although that painful conclusion had settled in your soul and had time to scar in all the time you knew him, a new wound, deeper, bloodier, deadlier, tore your heart apart at the thought you would not even be able to watch from afar. You would have been satisfied with scraps, just watching him rule, and be, and love someone else and imagining it was you. You never thought you’d get more than that anyway, never had any delusions for more. The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life. 

You needed to leave, now. 

“Should we head back? It’s getting late.”

You walked back in deep, uncomfortable silence. Eclipse made the nature shine and glimmer with colours your sadness dulled to muted tones. There was light coming from the village and you realise how badly you wanted to be alone, in your tent and read, or watch a movie or a show, and ignore this world for a little while while you licked your newly-opened wounds. Tonight was a communal dinner around the big bonfire in the centre of the village, and you felt grateful your presence would not be missed in such a crowd. You’ve come to love these dinners, another one of the many ways the tribe connected to the village and to each other, but tonight you couldn’t entertain even the thought long enough to count.

“Can you please tell your family I am sorry, but I will probably head to bed early. I’ll be early for breakfast tomorrow, I promise.” 

“I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded absentmindedly and closed the flap of the tent shut.

Neteyam watched as you left him, still reeling from your conversation. Much like you, he just wished to hide in his family’s tent and pretend for a night things are different, that they are better. Actually, if we are talking about wishes, he wishes he could be in your tent. In all honestly, dealing with you on a day to day basis, seeing you, your body, touching it more and longer than he knew he reasonably had to, was making him think thoughts he knew he had no business thinking. In his wildest dreams, he’d be in your tent and making your eyes roll back in the way that drove him crazy. In his wildest dreams, he’d be coaxing sounds out of you that only he would ever hear. In his wildest dreams, your hands all over him would heal him and break him at the same time. He was desperately in need of some relief, and he loathed all decisions in his life that lead to you not being able to be the one to provide it for him. 

He made his way to the bonfire, and greeted all of the Na’vi that respectfully bowed their heads at his arrival. He saw his family at the centre of the crowd, where they normally sat, and joined them silently. They all gave him uneasy looks - all but one. Lo’ak was blatantly glaring at the older Sully, a look of disappointment and disgust marring his normally kind face that reminded Neteyam so much of their dad. 

“Did you tell her?” 

Kiri elbowed Lo’ak in the abdomen, but he didn’t flinch. He did not even bother to acknowledge Kiri, or the low hiss escaping their mum’s lips - his eyes were still boring into Neteyam, unwavering. 

“No.” Neteyam’s expression darkened and in a split second, he became the warrior his dad moulded him into. “And you will not, either, Lo’ak. Do you understand me?” Lo’ak had to look up to look at his brother who was now dangerously towering over him. 

“Oh, the mighty warrior giving out orders, what else is new?” 

“Lo’ak, that’s enough.” Neteyam heard Jake intervene, and he eventually had to physically put his body in between his two sons, who still refused to look away from each other.

“Fnawe’tu (coward).”

 

Neteyam watched his brother turn his back on his family and walk away from the feast, and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he knew deep down that Lo’ak was right.

 

You were almost robotically flipping through the directory of movies and tv shows on the laptop that you had with you in the village, not quite ready to go back to the lab and have to deal with the consequences of your newly acquired “condition”. You had all night to do experiments, and lie to yourself that you were fine until you eventually succumbed to a Xanax-induced blackout. You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

You saw a five-fingered hand emerge from the entrance to your tent, and you laughed incredulously at the clown you loved, who seemed to have a knack for improving your dour mood.

“I am here to bother you.” You got up and started making your way towards the entrance of your tent.

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner?” You say, laughing and pulling Lo’ak by the hand, so he stumbles unattractively into you. 

You wrap your arms around him and hug him gently. “Skxawng.” 

“I should, but I am here instead. We haven’t had movie night in so long.” He lay on your sleep mat and you hissed for him to move over. “You’re getting way too comfortable hissing at people.”

“Not people, Lo’ak, you!” You smiled saying that, knowing you were quoting Kiri, and he groaned exasperatedly. 

A few more weeks passed, and you felt the discrepancy between your bodies become more pronounced than it had ever been. It turns out, the incubation period of a Na’vi virus in a human is not long at all, and roughly around last week, you began displaying symptoms. You were taking every drug under the sun to try to soften them, but you had seen one too many good Na’vi people die due to this to know what was lurking underneath the comfortable cushion of drug-induced health. Despite all that, you felt on top of the world in your avatar. You were continuously improving, and, with a little bit of luck, will be completing your first kill soon - the first stepping stone to becoming Taronyu, hunter. If you do that successfully, you will be taking your Iknimaya with other Na’vi apprentices, and finally get your own Ikran. You were buzzing at the thought, and the image of you flying in the sky was enough to push any other worries out of your mind. 

After that weird day that ended with Lo’ak in your tent watching Friends together and teaching him the chords to a song you both loved, things went back to normal, sort of. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that the Sullys were hiding something from you. They exchanged looks, and avoided certain subjects, and you were starting to be worried they guessed you were ill, and were tiptoeing around the subject so as to not upset you. That was a good theory, although it could not explain the heavy tension between Neteyam and Lo’ak that also started that night. 

You saw them bicker and fight your whole life: two opposing personalities, both of whom had misunderstandings about the other. Neteyam could never understand Lo’ak, understand that, despite being the chieftain’s son and the grandson of the Tsahik and former Olo’yektan, people still looked at him like he was not quite full Na’vi. His eyebrows and five fingers made his appearance uncanny enough to always attract whispers and looks, and despite Lo’ak’s apparent devil-may-care attitude, he cared. Neteyam could also not understand anyone who wished to live freely and discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one. Finally, Neteyam did not understand that skill and tenacity doesn’t come easy to everybody, and the weight of living in his shadow was bearing heavily on his baby brother’s back. 

On the other hand, Lo’ak never tried to understand the burden Neteyam had to carry, because, in his desire to not appear weak, he took it in strides and never complained. Lo’ak never fully understood the downfalls of what being “the perfect son” brings: no freedom, no childhood, no time, no fun, no choice. He only ever focused on the positives: praise from his family and clan, skill and composure, the title of future Leader of the Omatikaya. He will also never be able to understand the depths of Neteyam’s love for him, who, despite all their differences, would be willing to sacrifice everything, even his own life, to make sure his baby brother would never having to experience these burdens.

This tension felt like more. More than you’ve ever seen, not mended in time, they were always glowering at each other and only speaking to each other if prompted or forced by their increasingly frustrated family. You tried to talk to both of them individually and ask, but you were promptly sent on your way each time. You could tell Lo’ak was itching to spit it out, but every time he got close, he flashed you a look of hurt and fear, and moved on. 

Eventually, you stopped worrying about it. It will come out in time, and you had better things to worry about. Your training became brutal after that day tracking Sturmbeests. Neteyam would come to your tent before dawn, sometimes having to wait for you while you woke up in your Avatar body, and you were always gone past eclipse. You were tracking, joining hunting parties to learn, working on shooting arrows while on Pa’li or in nearly impossible positions (he made you shoot targets hanging upside down from the branches of trees, seriously) and working on guns and practicing with Jake and his soldiers. Jake made you his second-in-command during these sessions, and you enjoyed having the roles reversed and having to watch Neteyam squirm every time you touched his arm, or waist, or thighs, in order to adjust his shooting form. You also taught Lo’ak, sometimes late in the nights, where he would sneak into your tent and ask you questions about guns that he hoped would bring him in his father’s good graces for once in his life. You loved teaching them, and you felt powerful with all the eyes on you, trying to absorb every piece of information coming out of your mouth. 

“In your hands, you are holding a sub machine-gun.” You said and you made your way through the 10 soldiers in your midst. “It can fire up 600 rounds per minute. You have a button on the side of the weapon, as you can see right there”, you stopped and show everyone on your own weapon, “that allows you to choose between semi automatic and fully automatic. What’s the difference, Lo’ak?”

“A semi-automatic guns fires one shot when you pull the trigger, a fully automatic gun fires continuously until you release the trigger.” 

“Tsantu (good guy)!” you said with an intimate smile. Lo’ak was making amazing progress, and you were proud to be even a small reason why. 

Neteyam gave Lo’ak a hard look as he answered your question. He was angry with his brother because of his recent attitude, he thought. That’s the reason. Not at all because you were smiling at him with that dazzling smile that used to be reserved for him years ago, definitely not because he knew Lo’ak was sneaking in your tent at night and doing Eywa-knows-what, a fact which kept Neteyam up nights with images he would do everything in his power to be able to erase from his brain. Neteyam was exhausted. He hasn’t slept since this thing started, not until Lo’ak returned to his tent after his meetings with you, and he was able to look at him in the dim light of the night and gauge for himself if his brother was flushed, or panting, or extra happy for one reason or another. Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach. 

Coward. Lo’ak words rang in his ears incessantly throughout each day, never being able to fully block them out. 

Neteyam saw you move from Lo’ak and towards him, and tried to remember what they were talking about. Sub-machine guns, right. 

“Now, SMGs are best used in tighter quarters or close to mid-range. The spread will make it inefficient for long-range. If you find yourself on the back of your Ikran shooting at a plane or Valkyrie, make sure you close the gap between you or use your bow, instead.”

“An SMG will have a lot of recoil, making it harder to shoot accurately, but there are a few tips you can use to make to improve your aim and accuracy.”

“First. Always fire in short bursts, if you are firing on automatic mode. A few shots at a time will make sure the kick is not unmanageable. Two, account for the kick and adjust your aim to compensate. Think of shooting an arrow and how you always take the wind, its direction, speed and power in consideration before you actually release. It’s a similar principle. The recoil will make the gun kick upwards, so always aim slightly lower than what you want to hit. Three, don’t aim for the head. Leave that for a bow or an assault/sniper rifle with a scope. Aim for the abdomen and chest, since that is a wider target and more likely to hit. Everyone on the same page?”

Neteyam was forever in awe of you, but it was particularly impressive watching you now. You were confident and powerful and knowledgeable. Neteyam felt bad admitting it, but you were a much better teacher than their dad ever was. Toruk Makto had many incredible qualities, but his patience was definitely not amongst them, and his lessons tend to get a bit derailed by his inability to understand that Na’vi are not predisposed to guns or understanding Sky People technology. You were calm, and kind, and funny, and you made it easy for everyone to follow your instructions. In the span on a few weeks, all of the Na’vi and Avatar soldiers training for the upcoming war became better at pretty much every aspect that they were training in, and I think everyone felt just a bit more comfortable about the conflict that was soon to befall them, with you by their side. 

After the lesson was complete, you left alongside Lo’ak, sparing one last look in Neteyam’s direction. He was already watching you, and you saw a fleeting angry look that was quickly replaced with an expressionless mask. He was getting good at that, you thought. 

“Do you want to do anything? If I have to listen to Kiri talk about all the new types of flowers and plants and shit she keeps finding in the woods, I will lose my mind.”

“Be nice.” 

Kiri has been particularly hyperfixated on her newfound discoveries recently, and you tried your best to pay attention to every time she was describing them, in detail, but in reality you were always so exhausted by the time dinner came around that you were only assimilating about a tenth of all the words coming out of her mouth. You felt bad, and made a mental note to dedicate a couple of days to your friend that you saw less and less each week. 

“Your Iknimaya is getting closer and closer each day, how do you feel?”

“Honestly I haven’t thought about it that much, just taking it one day at a time.”

“I think you should start thinking about it, cause it’s going to happen. You’ve managed to blow everyone’s expectations out of the water. It barely been two months since you got your avatar body, not even my dad did this so fast. You were made for this, Angel.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were grateful for Lo’ak’s faith in you, but with everything happening in your human body, it felt pointless looking towards the future. 

“You will be one of us, soon. I’ve had dreams about this my whole life, you know? It’s like I manifested your Avatar, Norm should be thanking me.” 

“Lo’ak…” 

You didn’t like the turn this conversation took, and felt an uncomfortable twinge settle in your chest at his words. 

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.” 

Fuck. 

Neteyam was making his way back to the village with the rest of the soldiers, casually chatting to one of the Avatars returning with them. He wasn’t paying attention to the way until his body knocked into one of the Na’vi walking in front of him. Utsou was staring intently at a scene unfolding in front of him, a scene that turned Neteyam’s blood to shards of glass, leaving cuts and bruises along his entire body. It was you, smiling, running your hand up and down Lo’ak’s arm whilst his hand was cupping your face and caressing your cheek. It was such an intimate interaction, it felt wrong to everyone there to even be able to witness it, and Neteyam felt himself becoming nauseous. With the image now seared into his memory and rage turning his breaths to pants, he turned around and left everything - everyone - behind. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @hayhay9091

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

11. The Missing Songbird

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

(Y/n) (l/n) lay frozen in that chamber for centuries. Stuck in a dreamland where everything was perfect. He should’ve left her there. She had peace in a sleep filled with dreams that would never come true.

But he was bored. He wanted a life, and a family, and no one was letting her out on their own accord. So why not him? He already knew everything about her. He could praise her and provide a good life for her here in the Vaults.

Henry, now commonly known as Hank MacLean wanders to Vault 31. Searching row after row of frozen chambers until he came across what he was looking for. Posted up in the seat, blue lips, and frosted lashes (y/n) (l/n) lay undisturbed. He smiles, pressing all the needed codes for her release. He injects her with a syringe. Just a little memory wipe to make the process easier on his part. He transports her to Vault 33, setting her up on the metal examination table and hooking an IV into her arm. All he could do was wait. He wouldn’t be so bored anymore with her around.

~

I open my eyes but quickly close them again due to the bright white light. I reach out into the air, my body weak. “Help,” I whisper with the little energy I have in my bones. My throat was dry and my lips were numb. My vision comes soon after the feeling in my fingertips. I look down at myself, seeing a blue suit lined with yellow. I choak out a sob, not entirely sure of why I’m sad. I was so confused. I couldn’t remember anything. The overwhelming feeling of fear taking root.

I look around quickly through tear-soaked eyes. I’m lying on a table, an IV drip in my arm. I start to breathe heavily. Was I sick? Did I pass out? Where was everyone? Where was I?

Who am I?

Then I heard it, “You’re alright. Would you like some help sitting up?” A single voice that calmed the nerves. I looked up to see a man. A small, weak man, with a wide friendly smile, “My name, is Hank. Everything is okay. Do you remember where you were before you fainted? Why you were running?” I stare at him in confusion. I shake my head, covering my eyes. “I… I don’t remember anything.” Hank pressed a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ll grab a tray of food and some water and be right back. You must be starving.” I feel my anxiety rising as he steps away. The fear of being alone again with unanswered questions claws at my brain. “Wait…” I reach for him, this stranger. “Would you stay? Please?” Hanks's smile spreads over his cheeks, “of course I will.”

Day after day Hank would arrive with breakfast, spending the hours of the day teaching me about the Vaults and how the community functions. It sounded like a dream. “I have your file from the Overseer of 31,” Hank excitedly says as he types away on his Pip-Boy. “So soon? I thought you said it would take them a week.” Hank smiles down at his screen. “It has your name.” A smile grows on my face.

A real name. My name! Something factual I could hold onto in this sea of uncertainty. I grab his arm tugging him close, looking down at the screen. I read the name slowly, the information warming my chest. “Melody Richards.” Hank smiles at me, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

I sit with a grin, content with being Melody. Content with being someone.

“Everyone will love you, Melody,” Hank reassured me as he walked us down the corridor, arm in arm. Vault 33 had put together an entire function just for me. To welcome me into their community.

Life was good. I felt right at home in Vault 33 with Hank. He took care of me. He made sure I was always happy. It was hard for me to believe sadness was still an emotion I could have. We married soon after, and my days were happy. I was assigned to teaching, which I was surprisingly good at. Maybe I was a teacher in my past life. It had been a year and Hank and I were just so happy. The daily routine is memorized by my brain. Every day just like the last. A predictable happy day. Until one individual day when everything changed.

“Girls, is there something you’d like to say,” I ask politely as a group of 3 girls. The bell has rung, and class is over, but yet they remain in their seats. They giggle as they look at me. I feel myself shrink. Was something on my face?

Becca, a 13-year-old girl with long blonde hair smiles at me. “You look just like Mary from that movie we just saw last night. She’s so pretty.” I tilt my head, “I didn’t know I missed movie night! I wish I had known.” The girls jump in excitement, “We’re about to go watch it again! Do you want to come? We need a chaperone anyway.”

It was only 3:00, I didn’t have to make dinner for another hour or so. I could use a little break. I shrug my shoulders, “Sure, why not? Lead the way, girls.”

They skipped down the hall telling me all I needed to know about the film. “So Mary is a singer and she works for this bad guy who owns the club. Bill, the detective is trying to catch the club owner but falls for the singer in the process. He saves her and then she tells him off! And he chases her in the rain! They are so cute! Ugh! I wish I could meet someone like that.”

We take our seats in the theater, waiting for the picture to roll. The screen lights up, and a nightclub scene appears. The picture drifts to a stage where a stunning young woman walks through the curtain. She begins to sing. Her voice swims through the room beautifully. I watch in amazement as she belts the song. I wish I could sing like that.

A man enters to club and is instantly taken by Mary. She sings to him, reaching out. He trails from table to table until he takes a seat in the very front. She walks down sits on his table and finishes her song. The man smiles at her. It warms my chest to see a new love.

I did look similar, but in no way was I more than a resembling face to the old actress.

At the dock Bill pulls her away from gunfire, shielding her in the street. “You have to go, Mary.” She shakes her head, “I told you. I can handle myself.” He turns to her, cups her cheeks, and brings her in close for a passionate kiss. “I know you can, but if you get hurt. I won’t be able to handle myself.” He stroked her cheek lightly.

In such focus, I don’t think twice about the cold ghostly touch on my own cheek. I watch in a trance as they express their feelings. I run my fingertips over my lips, feeling a light tingling. What a reaction! This film was something else. The two actors sold the roles. They acted just like they really loved each other. The film finished and I was hooked.

The next few days I rented every film and every record by (y/n) (l/n). I danced in the kitchen as I made dinner. Spinning around I place the meal into the oven.

Hank walks in, a confused look present. I giggle and grab his hands. “Dance with me.” I hum lightly to the song as I attempt to get him to join. He doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns the record off. I watch him, and an unfamiliar clench in my chest rises. His eyes bore into mine. “Melody, where did you get that?” His stare is lined with a nervous smile. “The library. They’ve started renting out movies and records now.” He nods as he watches me. I return to cooking dinner silently. I turn my head to look at Hank. He reads the back of the record case with furrowed brows.

The cover stands out. She really was beautiful. Clad in a silky red dress, her hair done nicely, and makeup to perfection. “Some of my students said I look like her.” I smile at the thought of being that stunning. Hank looks at me, no expression on his face. “I don’t see it.” He gathers up the films and records into a pile. “I’m not a big fan of this type of thing. You’re so much better, Melody. I don’t want you to get a complex." Hank exits the vault without another word.

The right thing to do would be to listen to him. he was my husband and the voice of reason in the dynamic. However, I can hear someone. Someone deep down calling out. Begging me to sing those songs. I lay in the bed staring blankly at the wall. Someone won’t let me rest. Someone is clawing at my skin from the inside out begging to escape. I look at Hank. The man I had come to know seemed like a stranger. Such an out-of-character act for him. He loved music, any type.

I feel the haunting pull. Forcing me to get out of bed and slowly creep down the illuminated hall. I wonder, feeling my feet carry their way. I stop at the doors to the theater. The invisible tug pulls me into the room. The only light was upon the stage. A ghostly smile grows on my face as I advance to the stage. I stand on the elevated wooden floor, looking out over the rows of seats.

I can’t explain why or how, but I began to sing. A song I had never known or heard begins rolling out of my mouth. Emotion taking over my body. This lost soul pulling their way to the light.

“I can hear you but I won't

Some look for trouble while others don't

There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day

And ignore your whispers, which I wish would go away”

I see the mist of a figure seated in the middle. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. He feels so familiar. Something inside myself was wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a singer. I wasn’t a performer.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear

And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear

Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls

I'm sorry, secret siren but I'm blocking out your calls

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new

I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The figure is closer now, allowing the light to bleed into their frame. He stands from his seat, taking slow steps towards the stage. I fall to my keens awaiting him. It was the only thing that felt right.

“What do you want? 'Cause you've been keeping me awake

Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

It’s him. The man from the films. He pulls himself onto the stage, cupping my face in his palms. The warmth of his hands has me believing he’s real. He’s here with me.

“Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Into the unknown

Into the unknown

Into the unknown”

I cling to him as I sing. His smile couldn’t widen anymore. His eyes dazzling as he watches me. His touch pulled the lost soul to the surface. Pulling her out and tossing Melody inside the cage.

This has been an entire trick. I see my entire past in his orbs. The movie, the secret meetings, the months of sadness, the party, the divorce, the engagement, Barb, and Vault Tech…

I breathe heavily as I finish the song. I stare at my hands I allow a tearful laugh to escape. I'm back... I'm me... The heavy weight of the unknown universe is gone.

It's just Cooper and I. I look up expecting to see him, but I'm alone. "Cooper?" I call out only to be met with my echo. The doors in the back open swiftly. I smile watching his figure walk down the dark path.

"Cooper." I go to run into his arms, but I stop at the sound of the voice, "You just couldn't leave it alone. Could you?" Hank advances the stage, stalking me with his eyes. "Henry." I back away with each step he takes.

"Where is he?" He shrugs, "Probably dead." He extends a hand, "Why don't you just come back with me? We have a good life." I shake my head, my back hitting the lush red curtains. "You tricked me!" Henry tosses his head back with a dark laugh. "I saved YOU!"

He lunged at me, grabbing my frame in his grasp. I scream as I struggle against him. "No!" I kick against him, "I'm not going back!" Tears fall from my eyes, "COOPER!" I ball as I violently thrash against Henry. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Shaking his head he holds me down. "I've got an idea on how to make you more... compliant." He stabs the needle into my neck. Second after second, I feel my limbs weaken. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I lost. Falling into my death that was disguised as a restful slumber.

~

Hank MacLean buzzed around the lab, watching the machine craft such a perfect specimen. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers lowly, in shock, he had never seen such an astonishing creation.

Fastened in a tube lay a newly built machine, recreated from past generations, but was lost, until he reconstructed it… reconstruccted her. He recreated her from the ruins she once was. Sitting in the dark storage unit, rotting away in the grave of all the failed experiments and equipment. Where the past had failed the future will succeed.

The young Hank overlooked the newly finished machine. She was sparkly. Her skin was smooth, her lashes long, her cheeks the color of rose, her lips plump, makeup drew on to perfection. She looked just like she did in the movies.

With one finger he types a single code into the computer system with haste. As the shield opens fog rolls out of the tube, kissing the floor. Her eyes open, knitting her brows together. A calmness washed over her. She steps out of the chamber completely nude. She smiles at the small madman. “Hi there, I’m, Melody. How can I be of assistance, Mr. MacLean?”

She was easier to… control. Hank had an easy life in the vaults, mostly because his synthetic humanoid wife listened to his every command without question She cooked his favorite meals, and cleaned until the home was spic can span. She was the perfect wife. What else could he want?

Short answer? He wanted Rose. One of the newcomers in a trade with Vault 32. He had become obsessed with her. Her beauty was impeccable. Not fake like Melody’s drawn-on liner. She was the sweetest creature he had ever come to know. Rose was made for him. Unlike Melody who Hank crafted to fit his narrative. However, this had to be fate. No one had made his heart beat like Rose. That night as he returned home for dinner. He had a plan. One final act and he would be free to woo Rose. To have and to hold her forever. He just had to get rid of Melody first.

He hauled her mechanical body to the top floor, disposing of her and all of the remaining items. Her belongings, movies, albums, clothes. Anything Hank had hidden away to shield the truth from her. It worked for some time. He wanted more. He had the perfect wife, but he wanted real raw emotions. Yes, she has a real brain and a heart, but it never truly belonged to him. She would forever feel the attachment to the old actor long gone with the land.

He set everything down with a huff. He took one glance at her cold emotionless face before looking down at his wrist to input the codes. The codes to shut her off, to put her to death once and for all.

Just as he brings his finger down to hit the last number, his finger curls around his hand, and forcefully turns it upwards. The synthetic copy of (y/n) holds Hanks's wrist with a bone-crushing grip. She leans in, dark eyes as she bends his wrist to look at the screen.

“You were going to shut me off?” She twitches her head. An internal battle raged in her mind. Two lives battle for dominance, but clash together in a confusing mixture. Hank yelps as he tries to hit the last number, but she is faster. She quickly breaks his other wrist. He screams in agony, glaring at her. “You bitch!” He grits his teeth as he tries to grab ahold of her. She kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

She twitches as she grabs the box in her hands.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

The internal voice screams the commands. She swiftly opens the vault door, the sunlight shining in blinding her. She doesn’t look back at the sorry excuse of the man who had created such a machine. She left in search of something unknown.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Ivy

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: Cheating/implied cheating, slight angst Summary: Although you're already happily married, you and your apartment neighbor Steve have started a bit of an affair. And it's growing. Rapidly. (Inspired by: "Ivy" by Taylor Swift) A/N: oh hello everyone :) this is an older fic I wrote right after evermore dropped (hence the title and lyrics) but I'm going through and publishing some of my old writing I've been holding onto (I think I published this one under a different account but I spruced it up a bit). Hopefully newer stuff will come soon :)

Masterlist

"Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you"

It happened fast. It happened so fast that you didn’t know where the breaks were until it was too late. He was just… there. Always there. Standing in the hallway, walking on the sidewalk, shopping at the freaking grocery store. It was a kaleidoscope of instances with him from the bumping into and the lingering gazes to the knowing smiles. It was fast and… spreading.

It was spreading, yes.

He was spreading, from your heart to your brain. Every second of every dream was filled with the what ifs. What if you held his hand when he asked to walk with you to the store? What if he happened to fall asleep in your bed after you asked him for his help with something? What if, in the end, your marital hand was his to take instead? The scenarios played out time and time through the night, forcing you to wake up with a fluttering heart and a guilty conscience.

Your husband—the man you were actually involved with and supposed to be dedicated to—kindly made you coffee every morning, having no idea about your infidelity-filled dreamland. He could barely even remember Steve’s name while his entire being lived in your soul, day in and day out. It felt like a cruel punishment.

"Good morning," your husband greeted you as you padded into the living room. As expected, two mugs in hand, one outstretched towards your sleepy form. You hugged the coffee carefully, giving a smile back in greeting, but the action twisted your stomach. You couldn’t recall last night’s dream yet the feeling of it all lingered.

"I know today was supposed to be my day off but I gotta run to the office real quick," your husband explained as he sipped his coffee and collected his files. "You’ll be okay here, right?"

Your heart skipped. Nodding, you said, "Yeah, I think I’ll go to the coffee shop and catch up on reports."

"You have coffee right there, silly," your husband chuckled, motioning his mug towards yours. You looked down at the steaming, dark beverage. You could just make yourself out in the reflection, coming face-to-face with your tired eyes and frowning lips.

"Yeah," you shrugged. "I want one of those fancy blended drinks. They’re practically milkshakes."

Steve liked those drinks, you subconsciously noted, even though he pretended he didn’t. He was carrying one when you bumped into him on the street a few weeks after moving into the apartment building. When you asked what it was, he acted like he had no clue and claimed he was just holding it for a friend. You remember giggling at his frantic explanation but eventually, he confessed his deep, dark coffee secret. You were sworn to secrecy on the manner.

Maybe Steve would like to tag along with you today. The idea hit you like a train. You didn’t know where it came from. Well, you did but… Oh.

"Honey?" Your husband’s voice shook you out of your thoughts. "Are you okay?"

You coughed, "Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little sleepy."

"Hmm, okay," he nodded, still eyeing you suspiciously. "I’m gonna get ready and head out."

You nodded in acknowledgment as he gave you a quick peck and departed for your bedroom. Suddenly feeling sick, you dumped the mug’s contents in the sink and slammed the cup on the counter.

Running your hands through your hair, you stood in the kitchen. Mind screaming, heart-burning.

****

Your head was fuzzy as you got dressed for the day. You waited until your husband had left for the office as you had plans with your appearance. It came easily, you found, to put in a little effort. After getting married, both you and your husband found comfort in the natural and casual but now there was something shiny and new. There was maybe someone who appreciated you trying and it filled you with that schoolgirl anxiousness. It was wrong, though, so wildly wrong.

You could suppress it all, though. So easy, you thought. Nothing wrong with a married woman getting herself together to feel good. It was about you, of course. At least that was what you managed to convince your head to recite as you applied the lipgloss and curled your hair. It was partially true—you did like how you looked—but that background voice, that voice you heard in your dreamlands, reminded you of where your heart was.

Sighing, you forced yourself to step away from the mirror and collect your work. You actually did have plans to work on reports for your job but you wouldn’t mind a certain next-door soldier keeping you company.

You hadn’t exactly done this before, you realized as you stood at Steve’s apartment door. Your time spent with one another was always just…coincidental. At least, that’s what you perceived it as. You two happened to go to the grocery at the same time or walked up the stairs after work at similar hours. Fate was laying it out and you were stupidly taking the dive.

Swallowing your doubts, you knocked on the door.

For a few seconds, you thought about turning away and running. Purse gripped tightly, that felt like the only move, and just when your feet started inching towards the stairs, the door swung open.

He appeared in the doorway like a golden dream come true. Eyes bright and smile as big as the sky, Steve looked pleased to see who was on the other side of his door. He was fully dressed for the day. Shoes on and everything as if he was almost on his way out. You felt even more stupid now realizing of course the most important man in the city had somewhere to be.

"Good morning," Steve greeted you. "What a surprise."

"H-Hello," You let out a humorless laugh with your stupid response and looked down at your nail polished nails, picking away at the nude paint. Anxiety was bubbling up, forcing your words out straight to the point. "I was just… I don’t know. This is probably so stupid or whatever but I was gonna go to the coffee shop down the street to do some work. Do you want…some coffee?"

Gosh, your face must have been beet red as you felt the temperature in the hallway rise drastically. Steve, however, didn’t even flinch at your suggestion. He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame, his smile turning into a hinting smirk. He eyed your nervous stance carefully and you could feel it. Your feet started itching to flee, again.

Steve shrugged, "Are you asking me to come with you to the coffee shop?"

"Well, I mean-,"

"A coffee date, perhaps?"

You gasped, your heart plummeted. This wasn’t— You couldn’t— He was getting in your brain, putting thoughts there now. Everything felt so suggestive suddenly. You were insane for this. Your husband and the rings you still adored… What was becoming of you? No, what was becoming of him? It was his work, wasn’t it? But you were here? Brain on fire, you wanted to scream.

"Steve—,"

He chuckled, nearly completely unaware of the races in your mind. "I’m just joking. I think I would enjoy some coffee right now."

You gulped and reeled yourself back in. "Wonderful."

Steve was right by your side the entire walk. Your elbows brushed so casually yet flamingly. Your skin ignited with every step and God forbid if someone was coming up the sidewalk from the opposite direction. The way Steve pushed into you to make room felt like at any second he was going to pin you against one of the brick buildings lining the sidewalk.

There was the issue with his hand, too. His pockets were free to use yet he let his hands stay at his sides, brushing over yours ever so gingerly. Every time it did, his fingers hit your wedding band, operating as your not-so-subtle reminder.

It felt like a bad game. A bad, teasing game. The tension was rising and what originally started as light banter or silly laughs here and threatened to turn into stiff beats around the elephant in the room. But gosh, he was so kind and funny and just glowed throughout, so you would deal with it and let today go where it goes.

When you arrived at the coffee shop, Steve held the door open for you, motioning for you to enter. He gave a cheesy bow as if you were some kind of royal. You gave a silly curtsy in response which he lit up at.

See, you told yourself, go with the flow. There was still banter and fun with him.

At the cashier, Steve ordered for both of you and allowed himself to pay as well. While you tried to object, he was already done with the transaction and pushing you into the nearest booth. You frowned at his generosity but he chose to ignore your antics.

He went to retrieve your drinks as you set up your laptop and papers. Steve returned now with a faux frown on his lips as he noted your collection of items.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and sitting across from you. "I get to sit here while you do work?"

You shrugged, "I only asked if you wanted coffee. You invited yourself along."

Chuckling, he responded, "As if I would miss a chance for a day out with you."

Your heart plummeted for what felt like the umpteenth time today. Placing your pen down, you looked up at the smirking Steve. His eyes were staring you down, shamelessly roaming all over you. You could and couldn’t believe his boldness.

"Steve—,"

"Don’t you have work to do?" He pointed his cup at the papers. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. God, it was all starting to get confusing again. He knew where the line was, right? Why was he pushing it? Why were you even allowing it? Because it fed some fantasies? Aided with some brief passings of loneliness? There was just always something in his words to you. A twinkle or so behind those looks and smirks. You don’t even remember feeling this way on dates with your husband. Oh, your husband…

"What are we doing?" You sighed.

"Hmm?" Steve sipped his drink. "I’m drinking coffee and you are supposed to be working. I think that’s what we’re doing."

"You know what I fucking mean."

Steve’s eyes widened at your outburst. You never swore around anyone, not even in your own home, so to do it here and out… Well, there was a new tone approaching the table.

Silently, he moved your drinks out of the way and leaned his elbows on the table. Shifting probably as close as the table would allow, he looked you dead in the eyes and asked, "Why did you knock on my door?"

"I… Well, I’m—,"

Words were tumbling in your brain like crazy as if that was any sort of shock. You couldn’t keep yourself together today. You could feel him all over you yet again.

"You feel it," Steve whispered.

"Steve—,"

"It’s exciting and you like it,"

"Steve, really—,"

"I like it, too,"

God, make his words stop. You wanted to scream. Everything was burning on you. From the words in your ears to his eyes on your figure. You felt the roots from his glances digging deeper and deeper and any hope of hiding it was flying out the window.

You took a deep breath and raised your hands in defeat. "Please."

What? What were you even asking—begging—for? A release? Someone to take your words away? Steve to ask you to run away or keep this in a secret rush?

"You do," He whispered and there was nothing that could confirm it like your hesitant silence. "But your husband—,"

"He can’t know," you shot back. If he ever caught wind there was no telling what could happen. He was a soft soul on the surface but it takes one spark to start a fire and fires can burn down a home.

Steve sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Calm down, we haven’t even done anything."

"But the feelings," you whispered. It was your turn to leave him bewildered. "The feels and falling consume everything. Don’t you think that’s worse than something physical? It’s soul and bones deep."

"I mean that much to you?"

"You’re everywhere."

You could tell that hit him. Heck, the admission even took you by surprise—and it was your admission.

Everything suddenly felt so much dirtier than one-night stands. This man hadn’t even properly touched you and yet, at the same time, he had touched so much.

"You mean this?"

"I wish I didn’t."

Steve scoffed, playing with the rim of his coffee cup. "You don’t know what you’re doing."

Sighing, you closed your laptop and said to hell with these reports. Your day was flowing and you promised to go with it.

Throwing everything back together in your bag, you looked back at him. "But I do, Steve."

At his name falling off your lips, his eyes abruptly met yours. After a beat, his hand reached for yours and you felt the weighted pain slowly drift away. It was as peaceful and forbidden as you had expected. You didn’t think you wanted to be anywhere else.

"You’re everywhere for me, too." You could cry at those words but he continued. "Like ivy growing everywhere, darling. I go out on limbs to see you."

"Ivy," you repeated. "Just like ivy."

Steve gripped your hand tighter, "And, baby, I’m covered in you."

Your jaw dropped. Pulling your hand away, you mumbled, "He’ll burn us to the ground if he ever finds out."

Steve shrugged, a suggestive smirk working on his lips—a wild yet dreamy contrast to the man you saw a few seconds ago. "I’ve been known to keep a few secrets."

[anxiousotters]

WIP Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

all my love to @ferretrade for the tag, these are always so fun <3

alright I have wayyyyy too many wips so I'm narrowing it down to ones I'm currently working on:

PaxAxe child of divorce

dinluke NEED TITLE GAWD

Ragnar & Axe buir basics insp

codywan engineering AU

(codywan) in the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

(JasTor) can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

(Jango & sons) seeing you in every dream

no pressure tags: @cookiemonsterv3 @thenookspace @friendlyneighbourhoodelf @lothcatthree @diaphanouswings

@meebles @willowgrove

[mrs-lockley]

WIP Game

Tagged by the lovely @soft-girl-musings!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagging: @v4mpires0ap @writefightandflightclub @wint3r-h3art @starryeyedstories @themarcusmoreno but only if you want to!

List of WIPs and their summaries are under the cut!

Current WIPs:

Reach for the Moon: Sabrina AU Pairing: Romantic Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, Platonic Steven Grant x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, Unrequited/Platonic Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader To heal your broken heart and move on from your unrequited crush on Marc Spector, your family sends you to help establish your cousin's bakery in Singapore for two years. You return to New York as a more confident woman, but you find yourself picking up the pieces of your broken heart (again) after meeting Marc as he continues to heal from his divorce. Sensing the pain and heartbreak between you and Marc, Jake steps in to create some distance to help both of you heal, but things don't go according to plan. No Moon Knight AU.

We'll Always Have New York: Roman Holiday/Casablanca AU Pairing: Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader Wanting to get out of California, you temporarily move to live with your aunt in New York to help take care of her after her fall. Not wanting you to spend your time looking after her, she suggests setting a blind date between you and one of her old coworkers, only for him to stand you up at the restaurant. Mortified and heartbroken, you seek refuge at a nearby coffee shop where you meet a taxicab driver, Jake Lockley. Takes place before the events of Moon Knight.

A Thousand Cuts Pairing: Marc Spector x WOC!Reader Heartbreak is something you and your friend, Marc Spector, are familiar with. After one night of drinking and tears, you and Marc make a promises to each other to never fall in love again, but you soon find yourself breaking that promise. But you'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts

Your Roots in My Dreamland Pairing: Namor/K'uk'ulkan x Filipina (Kapampangan)Sirena!Fem!Reader Part 2 of Where the Spirit Meets the Bones. After reuniting with his Sirena, the King of Talokan returns to Asia's Pearl of the Orient to see her again, only to learn that his Sirena is not what she seems (aka her human backstory revealed).

As You Wish Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x WOC!Reader The three times Santiago almost tells you he loves you, and the one time you realize he was in love with you. Loosely based on the Princess Bride. Slight Triple Frontier AU where you are Yovanna's best friend and Santiago is her neighbor.

General ideas with no details (yet)

Once Upon a December, Hades & Persphone AU First Order!Poe Dameron Miguel O'Hara x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader

Untitled, Noir AU Jake Lockley x Femme Fatale!Reader

Where There is Love, There Will Be Light, Swan Lake AU Santiago "Pope" Garcia x WOC!Reader

Untitled, Hephaestus & Aphrodite AU Din Djarin x WOC!Reader

[ethereal-maia]

roots in my dreamland chapter 2

I am Very Pleased to announce that I am deciding on a shorter chapter than I was planning on posting! It might not have the same power that it will have when chapter 3 comes out (it’s a continuation of this chapter hehee) but I really like what I’ve done so far!

Description: In which we learn more about Dahlia!!

Haven’t read chapter 1? Here:

Snippet of ch. 2 below the cut!

Dahlia laid awake in bed, covered up to her shoulders in warm sheets and blankets. Stifled sunlight peered through her curtains, splashing on the wall opposite the window. She gazed at a stripe of light on the wall, how the lowest tip of the ribbon of light caught on her bureau and started again higher up the wall, and thought, in the quiet way only waking of your own accord on a warm sunny morning can bring, about how lucky the earth was to fall in such a position in the whole galaxy- to be at such a spot in the solar system that it sustained a beautiful life. She closed her eyes for a moment, to revel in her warm bed, to fall back asleep would be heaven- 

Three sharp knocks on her door prompted a groan as her stepmother, Sanja, pushed open the door and stepped into the room to throw open the curtains. Dahlia turned away from the glaring light so her face was smashed into the pillow and groaned.

"Dahlia, you need to get up! It's just past 10 am!" Sanja's urgent voice came closer to her, and Dahlia felt her mattress lower as Sania took a seat on the edge. 

"So?" Dahlia grumbled. 

She heard Sanja sigh, and Dahlia took her face out of the smothering pillow so she could look at her. "So, Dahlia, you're having friends over for lunch today. That's in only two hours! And you're not dressed, your bed isn't made, you haven't even eaten breakfast-" 

Dahlia pushed herself up on one arm and brushed most of her hair out of her face. "I get it, Sanja. I'll be ready soon." 

Sanja raised an eyebrow, but she stood up and smoothed her own hair back absentmindedly. "Alright. I'll let the kitchen know to get you a small breakfast warmed up downstairs."

Dahlia sat and watched Sanja leave the room, closing the door behind her. She sighed and waited a moment in the warmth of her bed before kicking her covers off to get ready. She buttoned herself into a pale green tea-length dress, a pair of brown leather shoes, and put her dark hair half-up with a matching green ribbon before she stepped into the hall and rushed down the stairs to the dining room, where her stepbrother, Lucas, was still eating. He looked up at her and gave a half-smile in greeting. 

Dahlia took a seat next to him, and pushed herself up on her chair with her palms to look at him, raising her shoulders to her chin. He slid an amused glance over to her, but said nothing. Dahlia let out an exasperated breath. 

"Why, good morning, Dahlia, how did you sleep? Did you enjoy the show last night? " 

Lucas turned his head to look at her directly, but Dahlia continued her enactment. "Oh, thank you kindly for asking, Lucas. I slept quite well, actually. And the show was just lovely." She smirked at him. "That's how you're supposed to talk to a lady, you know. We love to talk about ourselves. It's our favorite subject, really." 

Lucas laughed once. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." He perked up. "Was the show actually good?" he asked. 

Dahlia grinned. "It was just a play, really. Nothing much to it. The Madman falls in love with the Lost Bride, he steals her away, she eventually falls in love with him, they get married... nothing too out of the ordinary." Her face lit up. "I did meet a new girl though! She's... well, she's a little standoffish, but so is Jan. I can't wait for them to meet each other. You know they're coming over today, right?" 

Lucas started to nod, but realized he didn't know at all. "When did you set this up? You only just met her yesterday. Do you even know anything about her?" 

"Oh, I asked if she wanted to come over today yesterday. She said yes and we worked out times and I warned her Jan was coming and she said that was fine and that she'd never met him really, only that they'd seen each other around at their fathers' business events." Dahlia took a breath. "And I know that her name is Marya Hendriks and her sister was in the play as the Lost Bride." 

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure that Jan and Marya won't have any problems with each other." 

"Certain." 

"Well, you'd better eat up then," Lucas said, nodding his head at a servant coming through the doors with Dahlia's breakfast. "Keeping those two sociable for more than ten minutes is going to cost you all the energy you've got." 

Dahlia made a face at him as he exited the room and she began to cut up her pancakes.  —

Read the rest on AO3!

[crimeronan]

I’ll admit I didn’t pay much attention to your OCs at first but now I’m very interested. Can you give a quick summary of them please?

i'm giggling at this ask bc i went back in my tags to try to figure out what had intrigued you and truly i've just been kin assigning shitposts to the OCs.

i think i wrote a rundown of them a while ago but can't be assed to find it so here's an even shorter one

all four members of the quartet live in tachni, a fictional city-state with a stranglehold over this fictional world's global economy. tachni's culture is largely based around light magic, which is an abstract type of magic related to illusions and luck and the future and abstraction.

everyone uses she/her, devin also uses they/them and he/him.

so:

nova - gaslight

nova is the incarnation of a light god, she has an unbelievable amount of political control/influence over tachni & she can turn her reality into a dreamland playground at will. this has left her craving things that are Real, which is unfortunate because her real soulmate hates her guts. her magic is making her very sick but she's pretending that it isn't bc she can solve everything with yoga and health smoothies.

devin - gatekeep

devin is the incarnation of an earth god, divine powers work thru her in the same way as nova, except that her magic is rooted in the concrete rather than the abstract. which means she can build shit and tear it down just as easily. being the opposite of nova's god, she's technically nova's soulmate & the two of them are supposed to balance each other out. however devin is much sicker than nova because of how fucked-up tachni is, and she's a giant bitch about it at all times.

sol - girlboss

sol is the devil. if not literally then certainly in every other regard. she too has an enormous amount of political power and sway, because she is unbelievably rich and has a monopoly on tachni's sex work industry. she's a nightmare of a human being who loves murder and terrorism; it's an open secret that she has killed a lot of people and that nobody will ever be able to prove it. girlboss antics. sol's bitchy attitude is in many ways the antithesis of nova; devin is wantonly cheating on nova with her, inasmuch as you can cheat on someone that you never wanted to marry in the first place.

ruby - manipulate

ruby is a mental health worker by day and a forger by night, her social power is much quieter. she's doing her best to retain her identity and morals while being surrounded by godawful people. her main focus is on helping marginalized and disenfranchised people get help and achieve their goals. she is unbelievably sad all the fucking time and has a million things wrong with her, which is why she's still hanging out with a bunch of shitty people and enabling their nonsense. she sweeps every OC poll i ever make because of her hashtag relatable neuroses.

all four have very messy history tangled up in each other, some of it gets Very Very Very Ugly and some of it is very funny. shitheads.

no one is a mansplainer or a malewife because i got tired of writing dude POVs. you can make up a couple mansplainer and malewife OCs to annoy the quad if you would like though.

[taomyou]

The Affections of an Architect - Chapter 3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: ONGOING, inconsistent updates Summary: There’s a woman Levi sees every Friday on bus 143, and he thinks she’s really cute. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a paper star from her, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and he falls in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to design the architecture of his dreams. Word Count: 7.7k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking, levi pov (A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! The Affections of an Architect is a spin-off of The Romance of Reimbursements, but can be read as a standalone if preferred. They are the same story, but The Affections of an Architect is written entirely in Levi's POV. The Romance of Reimbursements is already completed, and The Affections of an Architect is currently a side-project that will be updated infrequently.) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

dandelion root

After a good night’s rest, Levi wakes up with the sun, his body long attuned to its rise and fall.

Once he’d set the paper star you’d made him atop the cabinet in his room, he didn’t spend much time thinking about his night out. Against his worst judgment, he decided that going to bed instead of pacing his room like a fool was the best decision he could’ve made. He fell easily into his slumber, his nerves calmed with the covers heavy on his body, shielding him from the cold and dragging him to a dreamland only remembered by his subconscious.

Sure, he replayed the sound of your laughter in his head a million times before he actually listened to the lull of sleep, but that’s not any different from any other day that he’s seen you.

Only, now, you’re…

Not a stranger.

But he can worry about that later.

Much, much later.

He rolls over onto his stomach, groaning into his pillow as he relaxes his muscles. He reaches up towards the headboard to stretch his arms, and he yawns as peels the sheets off his body. He finds himself mindlessly getting out of bed, practically a zombie as he goes through the motions of brushing his teeth and getting ready for the day in his bathroom, and he breathes steadily to keep himself from freezing as he finds his way to the kitchen. It’s routine by now: getting out of bed, getting ready in the bathroom, getting the hot water ready for his morning tea.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he stands over the sink to fill up the kettle, and he sets it back down after it’s filled about halfway. He leans back on the kitchen counter as he waits for it to reach temperature, and he stares up at the ceiling.

Just as the kettle whistles that it’s ready, Levi hears the soft pattering of steps coming from the hallway, and he looks over to see Furlan, his hair tousled and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he meanders into the kitchen.

“Morning,” the blonde greets, rubbing his eyes as he leans on the kitchen counterside.

“How many times do I have to tell you to brush your teeth in the bathroom?” Levi grumbles, turning away from his housemate and back to the kettle to turn it off and stop the beeping.

“What, I can’t say ‘good morning’ to my best friend first thing in the morning?” Furlan says, his voice muffled as he tries to keep the suds in his mouth contained as he speaks.

“No, because spending two fucking minutes over the sink to keep your mouth clean is important than talking to me. And stop talking, you’re going to get your fucking spit everywhere.”

“Well, I disagree. Nothing is more important than communication,” he jests, “but I’ll listen to you, just this once. Be right back.” The sound of brushing resumes, as does the sound of Furlan’s feet as they take him back to the bathroom.

Levi frowns, shaking his head as he pulls out the drawer to grab a spoon.

What’s even the point of Furlan doing this so often if he’s just going to go back to the bathroom after Levi scolds him? It isn’t even “just this once;” he always listens when Levi tells him off for brushing his teeth in random parts of the house (which has to happen every single fucking day that Furlan even bothers to get up this early).

Levi reaches over to the teapot that’s neatly set towards the back of the counter, right next to the basket of teas which sit neatly beside it, and he picks up his usual blend of royal breakfast black tea without much thought.

Nothing new, nothing special. He owns so many different teas, but he only really ever reaches for this.

He spoons no more than a coin’s width of the loose leaf into the pot, and he pours hot water onto it, watching as the color distributes in concentric rings.

With mental note to come back to the pot in three minutes, Levi goes back to his room and gets together his things for work. He hardly has to do much—all he brings from home is his work laptop and the wire he needs to connect it to the lecture hall’s projector—but he’s lazy in pulling up his backpack by its hanging strap and dragging it back to the kitchen. He sets it on the ground next to his designated chair at the dining table, and he goes back to his tea to pour himself a cup.

The warmth of the ceramic cup heats the tips of his fingers as he brings it up to his lips, sipping at it to taste the bitter notes, and he brings both the pot and his cup back to the kitchen so that he can review his lesson before lecture today.

He takes his laptop out of his backpack, and as he’s typing in his password and taking another sip of his tea, Furlan comes back into the kitchen, this time without a toothbrush in his mouth and with a better sense of awareness. He stretches as he goes to the fridge, faking a groan of pain as he tries to pry it open.

Levi rolls his eyes, and he sets down his cup to stare aimlessly at the loading screen. With the background musings of Furlan trying to decide what to have for breakfast, Levi scrolls through today’s lessons on formatting (for his Introductory Design course) and viewing planes (for his Architectural Basics course), correcting any stray typos and reformatting the text to be more pleasant to look at. When Furlan finally comes to the table with a cup of yogurt and a too-expensive salad he stole from the work conference he attended over the weekend, Levi’s finished with his own business and pours himself another cup of tea as Furlan regales to him the drama at his office.

It’s largely unimportant, but Furlan manages to keep Levi at the table for about an hour with an update on the woman who works in the office right next to Furlan’s, who, after months of pining for the building’s receptionist, has finally asked her out on a date.

Levi doesn’t care to indulge in matters of the heart when it comes to himself, much-less so to others, but Furlan had pointed out the freckled woman and the blonde receptionist dancing together when Levi was dragged to the company party over the holidays, and Levi’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least interested in hearing that the two have finally stopped dancing around each other.

After Furlan’s done telling Levi how grateful he is that Ymir no longer pesters him for new ways for her to impress Historia when she passes by her on the way in to and out of the building, he resigns himself to getting ready for work, as does Levi, the time now closer to when he’d usually get dressed and out the door.

Levi’s quick to get back to his room and put on his usual ensemble of suit and tie, and he makes sure to check that he’s got everything he needs before heading out. He puts on his usual shoes, and on his way out the door, he nods to Furlan as his goodbye.

He drives himself over to Magnolia Floral Company, just as he does every morning he has to go lecture, and he gets on bus 143, just as he does every morning he has to go to work. After he scans his fare card and nods as thanks to the driver, he finds his usual spot towards the back, and he unhooks his backpack from his arms and sets it down on his lap as he sits.

Because Levi actively chooses to ignore the thought of you that’s forcing its way into his mind as he watches the scenery before him pass through the window that you normally sit in front of, it isn’t long before he reaches campus, and he’s swift in getting off the bus and to the lecture hall.

The walk there isn’t anything particularly eventful—it’s only the second week back since the semester started, and students have already decided that their beds are far more paramount than their lectures, so there’s not that many people around—and Levi reaches the hall just as the previous class leaves.

Now to just set aside his disdain for presentations to lecture for these brats.

✰

Levi sighs as he returns to his office, slumping into his chair as he places his backpack onto the floor next to him. He’s far too exhausted to start working as soon as he’s seated, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to waft away his dull headache.

Starting back up with lecture, especially after the holiday season, is particularly exhausting, and he’s spent after today’s lesson. Last week had been easy enough, with lectures only on the syllabus and other course guidelines, but he was a fool to think that he’d be able to teach today’s lesson thoroughly and efficiently within the short 80-minute lecture time he has for his Introductory Design course held once a week. He didn’t manage to even reach the halfway point of today’s lesson, as it wouldn’t have been fair to skip through material just because he hadn’t allocated the proper time, and now he’s got to beat himself up now.

He’d taught this course and the others last semester, but he didn’t think to adjust to the fact that everyone’s too burnt out from the previous term to keep up with the pace. That’s not their fault nor his, but now he’s got to rearrange all the topics for the coming lectures to make sure that they’re adequately taught.

God, and he’s got to do this for his upper-division course on Architectural Theory now. They’ll probably run into the same issue. And his Architectural Basics class, too.

Fuck.

And, so, he knows he has to lock himself in his office until he gets this done because he knows he’s going to implode if this doesn’t get resolved immediately. Thank fuck he hasn’t taken on any independent projects yet for this year, because who knows how long it’s going to take to go over the entire courses’ presentation material and correct it?

But, first, Levi has to check his emails, because he knows just how frustrating it is to have a professor that doesn’t reply to emails. If nothing else, this is going to be his only “break” during the day, he huffs to himself.

He gets through them relatively slowly, seeing as most of them are asking for information from the syllabus (which Levi sends back a copy of, with the relevant information highlighted), and he stares at emails from other faculty members to try and decide if he’d rather ignore the messages or address them now. For the most part, he takes note of what he needs to reply to later, but he doubts that any of them are going to care that he takes an extra day or two to get back to them. He does get sent a reminder to a brief department meeting he has to attend today, though, so he can “look forward” to that and seeing all those snobs.

In the middle of him replying to an email from a particularly irate student (not that it’s even Levi’s fault they lost their “emotional support water bottle” during lecture—he has no idea how that’s his responsibility when he’s just the lecturer), he feels a buzz in his pocket. Wanting pause, he takes out his phone, and he sees that it’s Erwin who texted him.

Weird.

Erwin hates texting. Not that Levi prefers it to anything else, but Erwin never texts in the first place.

Erwin - 11:16 AM

Good afternoon, Levi.

God, this fucker always sounds so angry over text. Levi knows it’s because Erwin’s simply too much of a luddite to “learn” proper texting etiquette, as is he, but is the period really necessary?

Levi - 11:18 AM

What do you want?

Erwin - 11:21 AM

Would you like to have lunch with me this afternoon?

Levi - 11:21 AM

What? I’m busy rn Are you not at work right now?

Erwin - 11:22 AM

I wanted to grab lunch outside of the office, so I’m at that soup shop that we used to go to during university. Just thought I could get something for you, and we could eat in my office.

Levi - 11:23 AM

???? I’ve known you for nearly a decade and you’ve never once asked me to have lunch with you during work hours Did you want to talk about something?

Erwin - 11:25 AM

Not in particular.

Surely, there’s some other reason that Erwin wants to have lunch with him. What business does he have even seeing him only a day after having dinner together? Hasn’t Erwin talked enough to him already in the past 24 hours?

Levi sighs as he puts his phone on the table and goes back to finishing up that email, pettily omitting the typical “Best” that’d precede his email signature, and he hits send before leaning back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, just as he did this morning while he heated his water.

Sure, some soup would be nice right now, especially with the weather and the headache that’s hammering away at Levi’s skull, but he really has to get this done. He hears another beep from his phone and desperately wants to ignore it, but he can’t hold firm when the incoming ringing cuts through the silence of his office and magnifies the pounding in his head.

He picks it up and groans, putting the call on speaker and putting his phone back on the table before resuming his earlier position, his bangs falling over his eyes as he leans back and crosses his arms behind his head. “What?”

“Levi, did you want the French Onion Soup or the Squash Soup? I’m almost at the front of the line.”

Levi sighs. “I told you already, I’m busy.”

“You’ve finished lecturing for today already, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’m-”

“Then you don’t have any other obligations at this exact moment. Come on, take your lunch with me today. You love the soups here!”

“What are you, 80? We had dinner literally yesterday, why do you want to have lunch with me so fucking bad?”

Erwin laughs over the line. “Does a man need reason to seek companionship?”

“How many times do I have to tell you ‘I’m busy?’”

“All the more reason to take a break from your work. You know you aren’t going to have much time once the semester starts picking up.”

“...”

Erwin isn’t wrong. Levi was, for the most part, completely devoid of free time last semester, and he knows the cycle will continue again this term if he isn’t careful.

Still, that’s not enough of a reason for Levi to leave his office and go have some fucking soup. He has shit to do.

And what a fucking hypocrite. Erwin is just as much as, if not more, a workaholic as Levi.

“Erwin, I don’t have time to be listening to your bullshit. I’m hanging up.”

Just as Levi leans forward in his chair to end the call, Erwin hums in musing before opening his stupid fucking mouth again.

“You know, Astraea’s in the office today.’”

…

“What?”

Why the fuck is Erwin even bringing you up? Literally how would that be enough to change Levi’s mind about having lunch?

“She works in the same firm as I do, did you forget already?”

“Yes.”

No, Levi did not forget.

“Maybe I could ask her to join us for lunch, would that change your mind?”

…

What?

“Absolutely not.”

He can’t imagine that you’d want to spend your break having lunch with your boss and a practical stranger, only having learned his name yesterday. You probably already have lunch plans, anyway.

“Worth a shot,” Erwin chuckles. “We can just stop by her office and say ‘hi.’”

Even that sounds like too much, especially for Levi’s weak heart.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? How is this important?”

“It isn’t, I just thought it’d be something to consider,” Erwin laughs. “I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you again, though.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is Erwin fucking with him? Why’s he being so fucking pushy?

There’s no fucking way that you’d be in any way happier with just his presence. He’s only known you for a single day, discounting all the unspoken encounters between the two of you in the bus for the last several months.

Surely, there’s no way that Erwin knows anything. Levi’s never even so much as uttered a word about you, the stranger from bus 143, to anyone, much-less Erwin of all people. Talking about you has never been even a thought in his mind, and that nosy fucker is just as bad as Hange is when it comes to keeping secrets about this sort of thing.

But why is Erwin bringing you up now, as if that’d make anything different? Is this literally just so that Levi joins him for lunch?

“Hello?”

“What?”

“So, no to lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Splendid! So, which soup did you want?”

“No, I’m saying ‘yes’ to ‘no.’”

“Come on, Levi. It’ll only take an hour.”

Levi frowns as he stares at the computer screen in front of him, the pixels taunting him as they burn light into his eyes.

Well, an hour can’t be that much of an inconvenience. Having a decent lunch hour might curb the overwhelming dread he feels for both his lesson plans and the meeting he has to attend later. too.

Levi very well could just reformat his lessons at home. He hasn’t taken on any projects for his private architectural practice yet for this current year, and Furlan and Isabel aren’t due to come home until much later in the day.

He’ll get to see you, too. There’s no need to wait until the tail end of the week to steal glances at you from across the way.

And that’s more enticing than Levi would like to admit to himself.

“I’m at the front of the line, are you absolutely sure you don’t want anything?”

Levi sighs, putting his elbows on his desk and slumping forward, closing his eyes. “French Onion,” he grumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘French Onion,’ fucker.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Levi can practically see Erwin grinning. “Ok, I’m about to order. I’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”

God, Levi’s going to regret this so fucking much.

✰

By the time they’ve finally parked, Levi’s thighs are on fire, practically burned by the heat of the soup.

Levi didn’t say anything when Erwin had first asked that he keep their food on his lap so that it didn’t spill during the drive back to his office. It had felt nice, the warmth very much welcome after the chilly walk from Levi’s office to Erwin’s car, and Levi didn’t mind the sting on his legs for most of the ride. Once they pulled into the parking structure, though, Levi felt like screaming for his life, the boiling soup now too intense even through the fabric of his suit pants.

Levi didn’t say anything, though, and after Erwin opened the door for him and took hold of the bag holding their food, he got up like nothing was wrong and followed behind his blonde friend as he walked into the building. He’s never been here before, so he’s about as blind as a bat as he watches Erwin greet random people passing through the building and leading the way back up to his office, but he’s thankful that everything is so pristinely clean. Not that he expected much else from one of the city’s most prestigious law firms, 

Thank fuck that there’s someone else in this elevator that Erwin can chat up.

When the two finally arrive at Erwin’s office, Levi excuses himself to the bathroom, aching to rub at his thighs and get rid of the now-duller scorch. Erwin’s too polite to start eating without Levi present, so Levi already knows he has to be quick. After locking himself in the single-person bathroom (that is, thankfully, up to Levi’s standard for cleanliness) and getting rid of the sting with more than enough freezing water to drown a saltwater fish, Levi gathers his bearings and heads back to Erwin’s office, his only guide back to the room being his own memory.

As he’s turning the corner back into the main area of the floor, he hears the sound of chairs being pulled across the floor, and he rolls his eyes as he watches as the two men responsible for the noise struggle to open an office door and push the chairs inside. They both look around the floor, wanting help in forcing these chairs into the room, and Levi accidentally makes eye contact with the brunette of the two. Levi tries to walk away, but the guy raises his arms and waves them, embarrassing himself and Levi in-turn.

He wants to ignore them, he really does, but he has to walk past this office to reach Erwin’s. He sighs, and he walks over to the pair to hold open the door for them, and they thank him for helping them force the chairs into the room. Levi only nods in acknowledgement, and he’s back on his way to Erwin’s office.

As he’s got his hand on the doorknob, resolving himself to the comfort that awaits him in the form of warm soup that may or may not get rid of his faint headache, he hears the clicking of another door opening and instinctively looks towards the sound. 

Further away and across the floor, behind several other faces that are blurred out in his newfound haze, he sees you, the jewels on your hairpin twinkling under the incoming sunlight coming in as you hold open the door for who he’d assume is a colleague of yours. You and the woman you’d opened the door for are silent as you walk off to the room he’d just helped those guys get those chairs into, and you thank your colleague as she holds open the door for you this time.

You sound no different than you do when you’re thanking the bus driver after scanning your fare card, and that forces him into the seat he’s sat at every week when he sees you there.

He’s suddenly stuck in an uncomfortable plush seat facing the west, waiting for the irritating sunlight bleeding over the horizon to be shielded by you. His hand stays where it is, but he somehow feels the abrasive ribbing of the fabric of his backpack on his fingertips instead of the gold-plated metal that’s actually there. His tie feels too tight as he stares at the door, now closed after you slip inside the room, imagining if you leave the bus as gracefully when you reach your own stop after he gets to his.

He’s more than grateful that you hadn’t looked back at him, because he’s more than sure that he looks like a fool right now, his hand still stuck on the doorknob and his head uncomfortably turned to face any other direction than directly in front of him, but he somehow wishes that you had.

Truthfully, there’s no way that you could’ve noticed him—he’s all the way across the floor, and you’d only been walking through the main area for no more than a few seconds—but, for Levi, those seconds seemed to last an hour, the glint of your gems sparkling just like those on those heels you’d worn when he first saw you, and the smile in your voice all the same as you express gratitude for the simple gesture of having the door held open for you.

It’s a strange feeling—that of feeling like he’s somewhere entirely different, knowing that he’s not.

Before he can bring himself back to the reality of his standing, he feels the door being pulled away from him, and he’s forced to come back to the ground from heaven when he looks in front of him to see Erwin, a confused look on his face.

“Oh, was the door locked?”

Levi retracts his hand quickly. “Yeah.” Yeah, that door was definitely not fucking locked.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.” Erwin moves aside and motions for Levi to come inside. “I set everything out on the table, I’m going to grab some coffee.”

“Do whatever you want,” Levi says, slipping past him and going to sit at the desk.

“Did you want anything to drink?”

“I don’t care.”

Erwin hums. “I’ll see what I can find,” and he closes the door, leaving Levi to his own devices.

Levi sighs as props up his head in his hand, closing his eyes and trying to calm his senses.

Now that he’s not in the sky with his head in the clouds, he can finally feel the rapid-fire beating in his heart and the nervous clarity that’s gotten rid of his headache. His thoughts are clear, not that he can really understand them in the first place, and he’s sure that the burning on his legs has been replaced with a fiery red on the tips of his ears. As his mind replays the moment, one-sided and all-encompassing, he has to loosen his tie slightly and let much-needed oxygen flood his lungs. He can’t even bring himself to move his soup closer to himself because his hands are so shaky.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s literally seen you every week for the last, like, 4 months, and he had dinner with you literally yesterday. What the fuck was different about seeing you when you’re at fucking work? He already knew he might’ve run into you while he was in the building, why is he so fucking worked up about this?

Yeah, whatever the fuck just happened has to never happen again.

Never, ever, ever.

Yeah, sure, he may be able to act like he’s fucking normal, but he’s not going to test his luck.

When Erwin invites him to go to your office, Levi’s going to make it clear that he has to go back to campus for his meeting. Levi couldn’t possibly make a stop at your office and remain calm—he could barely keep himself from imploding yesterday when he’d met you yesterday, and he’s even worse now that he’s seeing you in… literally the same fucking clothes that he’s seen you wear for the last several months.

Levi knows that stewing in his own thoughts is hardly productive, though, so before he can get too carried away with that thought, Erwin comes back, a mug in one hand and a… yellow canister in the other?

He takes a seat at the table, and he holds out the canister to Levi. “Is this alright?”

Levi takes it, and he holds it up closer to read the small labeling on it.

Dandelion root tea? He can’t recall having ever tried this kind before.

He turns the canister, reading the flavor description etched into the metal: earthy, bitter, slightly floral. Doesn’t sound too bad, but quite niche to keep in the office.

“Where’d you even get this?”

Erwin waves him off, taking a sip of his coffee and putting his mug back on the table. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you being so fucking weird today? Did you get into a car crash on the way home yesterday?”

“Must you question everything?”

“Yes.”

Erwin laughs, reaching over to grab his spoon. “Relax, Levi. It’s just tea.”

Levi puts the canister back on the table, and he rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Did you want to try some?”

“Sure.” He’s just going to force him to drink it anyway, so might as well.

Erwin reaches down into a desk drawer and pulls out another mug, obnoxiously engraved with a huge green “E” on the side, and pushes that over to Levi before grabbing a kettle that’s sitting at edge of the table because, apparently, this guy has fucking everything in his personal office.

“You have a personal kettle in your office?”

Erwin nods. “I like drinking hot water nowadays if I’m not having coffee.”

“Okay, grandpa,” Levi scoffs.

Levi carefully unscrews the lid of the tea canister, seeing as it’s almost full, and he gently tips out no more than a coin’s width of the loose leaf into the mug. As he pours in the water from the kettle, he listens to Erwin thank him for coming and spending lunch with him, but the words don’t quite settle enough in Levi’s consciousness for him to be able to respond with anything other than a nod.

Levi sets a timer for three minutes on his phone, and he pulls his soup closer to himself now that his hands are free to do so. Looking around the desk and trying to find another spoon, his eyes find a small jar filled with red and white paper stars. “Is that what you were talking about yesterday?”

“What is?” Erwin’s eyes follow where Levi’s pointing, and he smiles when he sees the jar. “Oh, yes, it is. Charming, isn’t it?”

Charming, huh? Levi supposes that’s an appropriate way to describe them. He’d assume they’re meant to be good luck charms or something adjacent to that.

Erwin hands Levi the spoon that he's looking for, and the two start to eat, starting in silence as Levi's too exhausted to try and keep up any meaningful conversation, and Erwin knows better than to keep pushing the envelope of what Levi's willing to tolerate after being forced to join him for lunch.

Levi's phone goes off as the tea has finished steeping, and he picks up the obnoxiously big mug and stares down into the tea. He can't really see its color because the inside of the cup is already so dark, but he hopes that three minutes was enough time for it to be properly flavored. He blows the steam off the top slightly, and he takes a cautious sip as Erwin watches mid-bite.

At first, all he can taste is earthy warmth; not necessarily something he enjoys. He sets down the mug, ready to resolve himself to just the hot water that Erwin apparently loves to drink, but before he can pull his hand away from the ceramic, he pauses.

Notes of the promised bitterness cut through his taste buds, then even smaller notes of floral lightness. It feels like his mouth is set ablaze with flavors so familiar to him, but somehow still just as special. He hesitantly brings the cup back up to his lips, taking another sip to see if it tastes better upon this realization, and, to his surprise, it does.

Lunch continues all the same. He eats his stupid French Onion Soup and is eventually forced to listen to Erwin reminisce all the times they'd eat at this shop with Hange when they were all younger and had more time to do stupid, meaningless shit like this.

It almost feels just like back then, except Levi is drinking tea that isn't ordinary or poorly brewed or whatever else makes tea taste like shit. Somewhere amidst the chaos of Erwin unravelling memories that Levi can only barely recall, he pulls out his phone again to take a picture of the canister, thinking that he might want to get himself one.

At some point, they both finish their meals, Levi much less high-strung as the food settles in his stomach, and Erwin gets up from his chair, clearing his throat. "Well, let's go say 'hi' to her!"

"To who?" Levi feigns ignorance.

"To Astraea. Come on, follow me."

Levi remains seated, taking another sip of his tea. "There's no need. She's probably busy, and I have to go back to campus to attend a staff meeting."

"Nonsense, it'll take a minute. I need to drop off the rest of her tea, anyway."

Levi's breath hitches in his throat, nearly choking him. "What?"

"Oh, right," Erwin muses. "I borrowed that tea from her."

"It's not 'borrowing' if you can't return it. If I knew that, I wouldn't've had any."

"It's not an issue, she offers tea to any of the clients who pass through."

Levi sighs. "Still-"

"And, besides, she suggested it just for you." Erwin says it so nonchalantly that Levi nearly misses the "just for you," but when he catches it, he holds in a breath and just looks over at Erwin's figure as he goes to hold open the door for Levi to leave the office first.

...

Well, he supposes that the polite thing to do is at least say hello before leaving if that's the case.

He shrinks into himself as he gets up from his seat, and he follows Erwin as he practically beams.

Before Erwin can knock on the door of that room you disappeared into earlier, the woman that you'd walked with earlier opens the door from the other side, now trapped between it and Erwin.

"Good afternoon, Mikasa," he greets cordially.

The woman, apparently named Mikasa, awkwardly looks up at Erwin. "Good afternoon," she says, then slipping past and towards the general direction of the bathrooms.

Erwin shrugs before going into the office, Levi begrudgingly behind him, hands in his pockets. 

Good grief, why is he even here?

Thank goodness Erwin is the one to speak first to you.

“Thanks again for the tea!” he exclaims.

From the corner of Levi's eye, you nod at Erwin from your desk, and Erwin takes that as invitation to go closer to your desk, waving Levi over. Again, he begrudgingly moves to stand next to him.

"It's no problem, I have more than enough to share."

Erwin looks between you and Levi, and Levi assumes that he wants you to greet each other.

You beat him to the punch, though. “It’s good to see you, Levi,” you greet, a small smile on your face as you wave to him from your desk.

“Yeah, you too,” he manages to say, turning away from you to stare at… the wall.

Thankfully, there’s some framed photos that he can feign interest in, otherwise, he’d look like an idiot.

Or maybe he already does. He really doesn’t want to know.

“How’d you like the tea?” You ask.

“It was fine.”

Erwin laughs, the shit-eating grin on his face surely growing. "He loved it! He even took a picture of the label!"

And, right then and there, Levi wants to pummel Erwin into the ground.

Why the fuck would he say that? He probably looks like enough of a loser to you already with how much bullshit Hange feeds you about him, and now Erwin's painting him as a straight-up liar?

"Oh, speaking of, I forgot it in my office. Let me go grab it."

He takes it back.

Now, Levi wants to pummel Erwin into the ground.

How do you forget the very thing that he came here to return in the first place? Yeah, sure, Levi didn't remember either, but he was too busy trying to stop himself from choking on tea.

With Erwin's leaving, Levi and you are left alone for the first time. Well, maybe not the first time; Hange and Erwin aren't there when you're on the bus, but there's other people there too.

Yeah, this is the first time he's ever been alone with you.

And he has no idea what the fuck to say.

"I'm glad you liked it, the tea. It's one of my favorites," you say, cutting through the silence.

Levi hums in response, now forcing himself to look towards you to not be rude. His eyes settle on your teapot, noticing a faint stream of steam coming from the spout. "What tea have you been drinking?"

"Chrysanthemum."

Levi nods in acknowledgement. He enjoys it well enough, omitting the fact that he's only ever tried it a handful of times.

God, he must look so fucking awkward, standing in the middle of the room, and his worries are confirmed when you lean down from your seat and pull open a drawer.

From it, you pull out a basket of teas and set it on the table, and you motion for him to come closer. "You can take a couple to try, if you'd like."

His heart gently flickers like a lighter being sparked to life, but because he is definitely not going to address that right now, he simply follows your direction and steps closer towards your desk, his eyes focused entirely on the seemingly endless array of teas you have at your disposal.

He takes well to looking through your collecting, stopping every couple of seconds to read the labels on the canisters or the packets. There's quite a lot to get through, the basket being about the size of a briefcase, and Levi takes his time.

Mostly because he does genuinely want to see what teas you have, but also because this is great distraction from the presence of you in front of him. Alone. With him.

Strangely, though, his heart calms much more here. His ears, albeit a faint pink, aren't hot with embarrassment, and as he rifles through the tea packets, his fingertips regain touch and can focus on the matte printed logos on the paper.

After a couple of minutes of silence that he can't discern as awkward or otherwise, Levi steps back from the basket, not wanting to intrude your personal space for longer than he should. He doesn't feel that it's appropriate to take anything from you, seeing as you're probably only extending the offer out of obligation, but he did think a lot of what you had was good.

There wasn't anything too overtly outside of the realm of what he enjoyed. Nothing was too sweet, too floral, too nutty. You even have a near-empty tin of the same royal breakfast black tea he has at home.

But, for whatever reason, what Levi noticed most was that most, if not all, of your teas were caffeine-free, something that he now remembers was also marked on the canister you'd lent him.

You're a lawyer, after all. He wouldn't imagine that someone with that stressful of a job could even function without caffeine, even if he doesn't necessarily enjoy it either.

So he figures that's an easy-enough talking point to make this less painfully quiet.

"Why are all of these caffeine-free?"

“My mom didn’t want me getting addicted to it, so I wasn’t allowed any when I loved at home. I think I just grew to be too cautious of it.”

He scoffs. "Can your mom go back in time and raise Hange too?" Oh, what he wouldn't give for Hange to stop bouncing off the walls after they have their morning coffee on the rare occasion that he gets breakfast with them. "They're always so hopped up on caffeine, I don't know how their brain still functions."

You giggle at that, relighting that small spark Levi's felt for just a second minutes earlier. "Even with all the coffee, somehow, I still think that's just how they are."

Levi eyes nervously find place staring at the basket, counting the braided straw to , when, suddenly, Erwin comes back into the room a bit out of breath, the container of dandelion root tea in his hand.

"Sorry I took so long, I ran into someone on the way," he apologizes, putting it on your desk.

With his nerves for the most part gone, Levi looks to you, and he sees that you're looking between him and the canister.

Why you are, he has no idea, but you pick the canister and hold it out towards him.

He stares back at you, confused as all hell. "Are you giving it to me?"

You nod. "Yeah."

Finding reason to reject the gesture, especially after having depleted it mere minutes ago, "You literally just said it was one of your favorites."

"That means I have other favorites," you chirp, smiling at him. "I'll feel better if someone else gets to enjoy it, anyway. Nobody else here appreciates tea."

Hesitantly, Levi takes it from you. He's unsure of what to say to that, as it's equally rude to refuse a gesture after saying something like that, but, again, Erwin cuts in.

"Levi's got an appointment soon, so we better get going now. Again, Astraea, sorry for taking so long!"

You nod in understanding, waving at the two from where you're sitting.

Erwin's the first to leave the room, as Levi lingers a bit, looking back and forth between you and the door.

"How much is it? I can pay you back," he says, deciding to keep his eyes on you. How ironic—he's found himself in the same spot that you did last night, your hands outstretched with more than enough money to pay for the bill, except, now, he's not ready to faint just thinking about your smile.

"Don't worry about it. I'm a lawyer, you think I can't pay for some tea?" He sarcastically laughs at you, trying his absolutely hardest to remain deadpan throughout to let on any emotion at all (because not even he knows what it is that he's feeling). You smile again and motion towards your office door. "Enjoy it for me, yeah?"

Levi nods. "Thank you, I will," he expresses sincerely.

Without saying any "goodbyes," he's soon out the door, and you're finally able to get back to what you were doing before his interruption.

Levi doesn't question why it takes Erwin an obnoxiously long time to get his keys and wallet to drive him back to campus, but he suspects that he just wants to relish in whatever twisted fantasy he's trying to force on him. In turn, Erwin doesn't question what you and Levi had talked about after he'd left your office, but he knows that it has something to do with the yellow canister in Levi's hand that reflects bright light as they walk back to the elevator and down to the parking garage.

✰

When Isabel gets home from school at damn near midnight, she's absolutely spent, her shoulders slumped forward as she waits for Furlan unlock the front door for her.

It's not particularly rare for Isabel to be so exhausted on a Monday, but with all the upcoming senior year projects she has to finish drafting, she had to spend all night at the library, only having just been picked up by Furlan after he'd spent the night out with his coworkers at karaoke. The drive back was especially quiet, given that Isabel's drifting off to sleep and Furlan's voice is gone, but she's just glad to be home now.

When the door's unlocked and opened, Furlan's quick to rush off to the shower, only saying a brief hello to Levi as he takes off his shoes, and Isabel weakly waves to him as she walks to the dining table to sit with Levi. 

It's not really unusual for Levi to be up this late, especially with the sure influx of work that's to be expected with the new semester, but she's grateful that he's up so she can complain about her schoolwork and how horrible her professors are. He might not listen all the time, but she appreciates that he doesn't make fun of her for having a tough time. Even if she's practically incoherent as she battles both sleep and the carnal desire to complain, she has to get it out of her system that university is going to be the absolute end of her.

But, first, it's only the polite thing to ask him what he's up to. After all, he's definitely got his own set of complaints for the day, especially after the late night he had yesterday.

"What'cha doin?'"

Levi's hands stop their learned movements across his laptop's keyboard, and he sighs, resting his head in his left hand. "Work."

"Sounds boring."

"It is, but whatever. I'll go to bed soon."

"I need to complain about Shadis though," Isabel whines.

"No, you need to go to sleep. Fuck off."

Isabel yawns, waving him off. "I'll sleep when I want to. Before I talk your head off, did you do anything else today?"

Levi's slow to answer, sighing heavily once again, and he reaches for his teacup, placed a safe distance away from his laptop to avoid getting tea all over it. "I tried a new tea."

"Oh?"

Even though Isabel's brain isn't anywhere near being fully functional, she knows that Levi is annoyingly picky about his tea, so-much-so that all of his friends have made the collective decision to not get Levi tea for any gift-giving occasions.

"And did you like it?"

Levi takes a sip from his cup, and he lazily nods. "It's fine."

He liked it enough to still be drinking it at this hour? "How are you even going to go to sleep if you're drinking that?"

He pauses, swirling the tea in his cup before looking over at the yellow canister set neatly at the end of the table next to the teapot. "It's caffeine-free."

Great, now Isabel's even more confused. Since when has Levi ever cared about his tea being caffeine-free?

But whatever, that's not important.

What's important is that Levi is awake, and apparently not for that much longer, so as soon as he's done telling her about his day (namely, just that Erwin forced him to have lunch with him at his office; though, she doesn't know why he looks so nervous talking about it), she goes on her tirade about her senior project and how miserable of a man Shadis must be to assign so much work at the beginning of the term.

She'll be sure to ask more about that tea at some point later, though.

Because before Levi eventually goes to back to typing on his laptop while Isabel lists all the ways her tuition could be better used to better her university's campus, he gets up from his seat at the table to go brew himself another pot with that same blend of dandelion root tea.

✰

Next Chapter - coming soon!

[hangmanbradshaw]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @urmomsonfire and I figured I should keep going with the writing questions today!!! (thanks kale, love u)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 17

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 796,198 (do we think I can crack a million in close to a year we'll see)

3. What fandoms do you write for? I'm still living in Top Gun summer so I'll just be vibing here for a while

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i want to brainwash you into loving me forever (nfl fake dating au)

baby, i'm howlin' for you (wolves & foxes au)

i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland (rival princes au)

loose lips sink ships all the damn time (pirates au)

Love (Suite Love) (my travlor inspired AU lmao)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to!! I'm really behind right now because I get really sucked into writing (and life, been very busy with my social calendar at the moment) but eventually I'll go through and catch up. Writing like this is for community, ya know? Engagement? Making friends, being crazy together, it's the vibe. (Plus every time a comment notification dings, an idea angel gets its wings lmao it's my fave part- talking to people)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Unhappy ending? Don't know her. I guess you can make my wish come true just cuz it ends with them deciding to kidnap the president and cyclone being like oh my god

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? it's 2am and i'm cursing your name is pretty stupid sweet but also wanna be your left hand man/iwtby left off prettyyyyyyy sweet

8. Do you get hate on fics? Everyone's always been sooooo sweet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? *glances at my work from the corner of my eye* yes. just yes.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? My mummy fic has actual mummy characters. But I've written a lot of like inspired ones? Some loose, some closer. One based off the Mummy, one that's a mummy/national treasure crossover LMAO, one off Jurassic Park, one off Twister, one off Beauty & the Beast kinda, one off princess & the frog, one kinda princess diaries 2/how to lose a guy BUT I actually have an insane idea I came up with recently that would be a uhhhhhhh crossover I guess........I'm giggling as I think about it

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so? I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? some people have asked! So maybe soon.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope! but I love to riff with other writers. i'm way too particular about my own work to co-write probably tbh

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Hangster currently! prev: buddie, destiel, sharpay/gabriella from hsm (leave me alone lmao).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? if I post I am going to make myself finish but I have some I've never posted that I doubt I'll finish (one's a rivals fake dating destination wedding)

16. What are your writing strengths? I'd say melancholic fluffy humor and banter, others have told me world building and being lowkey emotional

17. What are your writing weaknesses? being concise and angst actually- I struggle with that sometimes

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Amazing when people can do it, but I tend to avoid writing it since I'm not fluent.

19. First fandom you wrote for? High School Musical and then I took a massive break and started with Top Gun again.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I love all my babies for different reasons but IWTBY & That Little Farm are currently my true loves

Tagging anyone who wants to do this, also @paulmezcal as a welcome to tumblr (no pressure you def don't have to do it haha)

[countessrivers]

Author Interview

I was tagged by @myulalie and @polarnacht1. Thanks

1. How many works do you have on ao3:

50.

2. What's my total ao3 wc:

305,629.

3. What are my top 5 fics by kudos:

Likely influenced by time as 3 of these are Gotham fics which have been up for longer, but 2 of them are DW and they're (relatively) newer.

Tells Me "Worship in the Bedroom" - Bruce/Jeremiah, E

An encounter in a church, after Bruce gets left behind. Follows on from the end of 5x03 'Penguin, Our Hero'.

Deadly Fever, Please Don't Ever Break - Ten/Simm!Master, T+

The Master bares his teeth, free hand moving to press against the Doctor’s stomach. 

“Don’t,” the Doctor says, tightening his grip on his arm. 

“Make me.” 

The Doctor feels a burn where the Master’s hand is pressing into him, even through his clothes, but he doesn’t flinch away, squeezes the Master’s arm even harder instead, and brings his other hand up to pin his shoulder. 

“Don’t.” 

The Master isn’t going to run again, the Doctor’s not going to let him. 

The Doctor lands on Earth, and feels a familiar presence he'd thought lost.

Lacrymosa - Bruce/Jeremiah, M

"Lie, pretend, hide, change your name, put on a mask, lock yourself away in the centre of a labyrinth - it doesn’t matter. Nobody can run forever. "

Jeremiah between 4x18 and 4x20.

Sweet Blooded and I'm Stranded - Ten/Simm!Master, E

The Master isn’t doing anything as pathetic as avoiding the Doctor. Because that would be pathetic.

And he’s not.

(Not pathetic. Not avoiding the Doctor.)

*** The Master (who is doing fine, and doesn't need the Doctor anyway) stumbles back across his own timeline and runs into a Tenth Doctor who still believes he's dead.

One Hand on my Cheekbone, One Hand on the Rope - Bruce/Jeremiah, M

Bruce is not dealing well with a great many things.

Jeremiah just happens to be at the top of the list of things he's not dealing with.

Or maybe, he's just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Bruce, in the aftermath of 'Ace Chemicals'.

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do. I'm very, very behind (so sorry to everyone who has left a lovely comment on one of my fics) but I intend to catch up. To begin with I just like/thanking and acknowledging people who took the time to leave a comment, and then it sometimes will give me a chance to talk some more about the fic and my thoughts/ideas behind it.

5. What fic has the angstiest ending?

Roots in my Dreamland (Midam) maybe. It's not too bad, but Adam is still technically stuck in the cage and isn't having a great time. There were plans for a series that would follow through to the end of the show (with a happier ending) and maybe I'll come back to it one day.

Similarly, my To Sit in Hell With You (Bruce/Jeremiah) series, which I'll admit I didn't plan well because I would write the parts on a whim/when inspiration struck and not chronologically so while it all makes sense in my head, in hindsight I don't think it's the best experience for readers. Ultimately it had this stockholmed/broken Bruce story - with Arkham Kight vibes - that was fairly angsty, and the last entry in particular which focused on Jim and Bruce, was definitely that.

And One Hand on my Cheekbone... is basically just angst.

6. What fic has the happiest ending?

Devotion (Yassen/Alex, T+) is the only one that really stands out to me as having a proper happy ending.

A lot of my fic is smut, so does a happy ending count?

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not strict crossovers, but AUs based on another setting often enough. I have a Star Wars fic in the works that name drops Anakin and Obi-Wan if that counts?

8. Have you received hate on ao3?

Not strictly hate. I've had some very odd comments that have nitpicked (what I think are irrelevant) details while not even mentioning whether they finished the fic, much less enjoyed it, which I think is just entirely unnecessary. Or have requested that I write an idea they have, again without commenting on the fic they're posting on. But that's the worst of it.

9. Do you write smut?

Regularly.

10. Have you had a fic get stolen?

Not that I know of.

11. Have you had a fic get translated?

The only one I'm aware of is One Hand on my Cheekbone...

12. Have you co-written a fic?

No.

13. What's your fav ship?

It varies. Right now, Alex/Yassen, but if you go through my fics you'll see the range. Doctor/Master is a pretty eternal one.

14. What's a WIP you want to finish but never will?

I have a few in both the Gotham and Supernatural fandoms. There's a chance I could go back to them, the hyperfixation would just need to swing that way again. I've mentioned a few above, but also Talking While the Wolves Close In (Midam, AU post 'Point of No Return) though that is one I particularly *want* to finish.

15. What are my writing strengths?

I like to think my smut is pretty good at this point. In general I think my writing flows quite well too if that makes sense. I've been told something similar about my academic writing, so I think all that practice has meant my writing - content aside - looks/sounds/reads/flows well.

16. What are my writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue. A line here or there is fine, and I like to think I can make it in-character, but full conversations I struggle with, particularly then trying to match it with movement/the characters actually doing things. Or maybe I then overcompensate and include too much of that when a bunch of back and forth dialogue would be fine without the "interruptions". I guess the problem is I can't quiet tell what the right balance is.

Can't do long plotty fics either. Wish I could, but I always lose steam/motivation before I can finish it. And/or it feels like so much work to get to the bits and pieces I actually want to write within it.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages on ao3?

Fine when done right I guess, but I've never done it apart from maybe a word or two here and there (where I'm pretty certain I've got it right). I know a few languages but none fluently enough to be confident basically. I stuck some Russian in the note of my first AR fic that was the translation of a joke alluded to in the fic itself (taken from the Archer episode the fic was basically parodying - he finds the grenade "hanging from the lampshade") but otherwise I tend to cheat and just say they're speaking another language, potentially using italics.

18. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

DCEU as far as anyone checking my AO3 knows, but there was some earlier stuff for Star Trek '09 way back when I think (that will never see the light of day).

19. What fandom/ship have you not written but want to?

At the moment I don't really have a burning need to write for anything other than what I already have.

20. What's your fav fic you've written?

Lacrymosa is one I'm really happy with, but I also still really like Our Old Friends Are Now Our Enemies (Bruce/Jeremiah, post-series), Hold Me Down (Alex/Yassen, Alex/Julia vamp AU), Strange One... (Alex/Julius/Yassen), and My Doctor's Can't Explain (Alex/Yassen)/

And tagging @too-many-rooks and @pigandpepper if you’re interested.

[carrythispictureforluck]

10 favourite songs, thank you loves @chace-vito @ryder-the-writer

this took me too long.. I'm including favs from the last 6 months plus some all time favs. Also bonus some of my fav lyrics too!

1. This is for real - motion city soundtrack

You are the night light Ripping through my wicked world How you make it sparkle and glow

2. Carry your throne - jon bellion

Church bells let me ring them She looked back, said, "Baby This your kingdom

3. As lovers go - dashboard confessional

You've got wits you've got looks You've got passion but are you brave enough to leave with me tonight

4. Weak - AJR

And no thank you is how it should've gone I should stay strong But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that?

5. Hum hallelujah - fall out boy

I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light

6. How to save a life - the fray

And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life

7. False god - taylor swift

Religion's in your lips Even if it's a false god We'd still worship

8. Sunday morning - maroon 5

In darkness she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me

9. ivy - taylor swift

I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you

10. Carry this picture - dashboard confessional

Your smile is the most genuine thing I've ever seen. I was so lost, but now, I believe

Tagging anyone who wants to do this! Be prepared to be at wars with yourself trying to pick 10.

[sqwormywormy]

Peter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Kayne Fragment

Ao3

First meetings with the dreamlands community oc ♥️

Parker gasps back into awareness, or at least tries to. His chest feels like it's in a vice, and his body is buzzing all over like every inch of flesh and organs had fallen asleep hours ago. The strangest part is how numb his face is, specifically his mouth. He tries to unclench his jaw, move his tongue, even just swallow down the lump of dread that's growing in his throat. Nothing.

It's an alien feeling, your body completely unresponsive to the deep rooted, instinctual need to drag as much air as possible into your lungs. He's light headed from how little air he's getting, hyperventilating just through his nose, and Parker has to make the conscious effort to push everything to the side and steady his breathing.

He sits up, pulling his knees to his chest and squeezes them between his shaking arms as he looks around.

He's .. wearing a hospital gown? Nevermind, he'll deal with that later.

Flowers are blooming around him, small white ones on individual stems. There's still some morning dew on them, and each blossom glimmers like they're spun out of glass. He counts eight petals per flower on the handful closest to his right hand. Bloodroot, if he's remembering correctly.

(The first time he'd tried this, Parker had been convinced it wouldn't work. How would simply looking around help at all? He'd done it anyway. It's his go-to method now.)

Parker's breathing is calmed by now, only the occasional shaky exhale rattling through his frame, so he lets go of his knees and moves his arms behind him to lean back and release the tension coiled throughout his body. He feels so drained, and he's only just woken up from whatever bender he'd been dragged into last night that he had forgotten about.

'Where the hell am I?'

The rest of his body has lost that buzzing feeling he'd woken up with, but his face is still partially numb, and despite his best efforts Parker can't seem to get any words out.

'God, I hope my jaw's not broken.'

Hesitantly, Parker reaches up to feel along his jawline with his finger tips. Nothing feels out of place, except that he can't feel any of it. Looking down his nose, nearly cross eyed, Peter skims his fingers up to his lips and promptly witnesses his own mouth open and bite down on his fingers.

'Jesus Christ!' Parker yanks his hand out from between his own teeth and starts... Laughing.

No, he's not the one laughing. Horrified, Parker realizes his body is laughing of its own accord.

"No dice, but I'll let you guess again."

He can feel his mouth moving, feel the vibration of the words through his chest. It even sounds like his own voice... Somewhat. The tone is off though, too cavalier.

'Who- what are you?'

"Oh.... darling -"

'Don't-'

"-Sugar, sweetheart, honey bear... You don't know? That breaks my heart." A pause. "Well, I don't know either!" His words break off into a loud cackle, and Parker can feel a wave of goosebumps at the disturbing sound coming from his own vocal chords.

"What I do know-" Parker stiffens up when the voice, his voice, speaks again. "-is that we seem to be in quite the pickle. You, sitting out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but this sheet to cover your soft, fleshy body. And me- well..." Parker can feel his lip scrunch up against his nose in what he can only assume is a sneer. "Seems like I'm along for the ride , as they say. 'Who's they,' you may ask? Well I'm not qui-"

'-Can you just.. give me a moment?'

"Mmmmmmm..." Parker feels himself quickly slipping from fear to irritation the longer this.. whatever it is talks. "Suuure. You're lucky I'm already so.. attached to you, HAH!"

Parker rolls his eyes.

He waits a moment, but it seems the voice is actually cooperating on this… for now. Ok, alright. He takes the blissfully silent moment to try to take stock of himself. The voice was right, he only has the hospital gown on to cover himself and... Is that a tag?

Parker shifts to sit cross legged, grabbing the card stock tied around his toe with string.

'Name of deceased.... Yang, Peter. Case number 1934-005381, time of death.. Jesus Christ.'

That answers one question, but brings up a few hundred more. Parker squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a steadying breath. He will deal with all of those later, best to first find out where he is and where some spare clothes can be found.

Parker unties the tag and, with lack of any pockets, reties it to his ring finger so it's less in the way of his walking. For some reason it feels wrong to just toss it, maybe because he has so little to begin with.

He pushes himself up to stand and looks around. He'd been laying near the edge of the forest in a small clearing, and after squinting at the treeline, Parker makes out what looks like a thinner patch of trees.

'That might lead out to a road. Frankly, there's not much else I can work with anyways.' Parker reasons, tentatively pushing his way through bushes and undergrowth to weave his way between the trees.

A few more minutes of silence, then a long, over dramatic sigh. "This is soooooo boring. You're killing me here, Petey. Can I leave timeout yet?"

Peter pauses in his walking, startled. 'How do you know my name?'

"It was on the tag , sweet cheeks. Despite what you may think, I can read."

'So, you can see everything too then?' Parker starts walking again, mulling over the logistics of sharing a body with this... Being. Entity. Pain in the ass.

"Yep," he pops the 'p'. "Well, kind of. I can see everything you can see, but nothing else."

'Oh.' Parker falls silent again, watching his steps as he navigates around rocks and tree roots.

'So, what do you remember?'

"You want to know all that I remember?" There's something suspicious in the voice's tone, but Parker is too distracted to really care.

'Sure, best to know what I'm- We're working with.'

"Good point! So for starters, I can recall your basic arithmetic, grammar, syntax, spelling- like Mississippi. M-i-s-s-i-..."

Parker marks this down as a learning moment for himself.

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

He compartido 1419 publicaciones este 2022

¡Son 1325 más que en 2021!

199 publicaciones originales (14 %)

1220 reblogueos (86 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@official-crucified-mortimer

@dreamland-creations

@sarilolla

@constant-state-of-affection

@glorytoukraine2022

He etiquetado 563 publicaciones en 2022

#hello puppets: 313 publicaciones

#hello puppets midnightshow: 61 publicaciones

#riley ruckus: 60 publicaciones

#nick nack: 39 publicaciones

#mortimer handee: 29 publicaciones

#deedz and friends: 27 publicaciones

#deedz responds: 20 publicaciones

#daisy danger: 19 publicaciones

#friends art: 18 publicaciones

#reblog: 13 publicaciones

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#thank you everyone in this lovely community and platform for supporting my stupid self but also reminding me of how lucky i am to have y'al

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

Wait....what if they're actually a cult of puppets.... (TW: for mentions of cults and spoilers)

I found this thread on Twitter and Andrew Allen (one of the writers of the game) said the following

I'm starting to think the whole "Family thing" may not be like "Oh they're an actual family" but rather a "What if this is a plot line is a more obscure reference to actual cults, and a some sort of tw: for serial life killers"///The Charles Manson cult. Who also referred to each other as family"//

I want to add things that reinforced this point or something that might be related to that theory.

The fact that Mortimer (as far as in the gameplay) is the only true voice and it's always right about stuff. What I mean with this is that I was wondering why the characters never hated Mortimer even tho he pretty much verbally and physically abuse them. Even at the last tape of their storyline (minor spoilers) Riley never said Mortimer was a bad leader but just said that he was becoming unsteady.

Mortimer's changing behavior towards the tapes. I won't give spoilers since I don't want to spoil stuff for everyone. I just realized that Mortimer does kinda have that slow descent into madness and paranoia that cult leaders tend to have as their rule start to become more unsteady and abusive.

This particular chorus + one of Mortimer's sentences in show everyone.

Descúbrela

79 notas. Fecha de publicación: 29 de octubre de 2022

4

I keep looking back at this thing Mortimer said

What does me mean?

Credits to Super horror bro

103 notas. Fecha de publicación: 24 de octubre de 2022

3

They're trying Mortimer >:(

131 notas. Fecha de publicación: 22 de octubre de 2022

2

No context

If you know you know

These two are my last brain cells :P

173 notas. Fecha de publicación: 22 de octubre de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

In Defense of Abuela Alma

It will be a bit surprising to say that one of my favorite characters from Encanto, was Alma Madrigal. As far as I see, the majority of the fandom doesn’t really seem to like her as a character or as a protagonist in general. It appears that the fandom seem her as villainous rather than antagonistic (which is her actual role.) After talking with a fellow Tumblr pal, I decided to give Alma a small the defense in regarding her role as a character.

Disclaimer: I am not going to justify Alma’s actions as she’s clearly in the wrong in the movie, but I will defend her as a broken woman with good intentions but who never really saw the way for her mistakes instead of a cruel figure who gets “redeemed” because of power of love. Still, I am going to adress her flaws as a character, and give my perspective on the roots. Still, there will be not justificiations, and this is just for entretainment :)

She’s a very complex character and an amazing example of how grief and trauma can affect us. 

I’ll break my defense through parts and also take my family experience and my perspective as an actual Colombian woman from a similar family structured as Los Madrigals in Encanto (and maybe go over the reasons about why I never really dislike or hate Abuela.)

I am not here to change minds, but just rather present my perspective on Abuela in this very long post. I’m also doing this for fun and talking it as a fun writing exercise :D

Part 1. Alma is an antagonist, not a villain

Before y’all come to bash me with the whole “Aren’t those the same thing?” Let me tell you that an antagonist and the villain are not the same thing. This honestly is one of my biggest pet peeves in storytelling.

Yes. A villain can be an antagonist (which is mostly the roles), but an antagonist isn’t necessarily a villain. Let’s get through the basic definitions.

A villain is an evil doer who purposely harms people and will directly oppose the hero or protagonist with the intent of harm.

An antagonist, is someone who opposes the view of the hero but doesn’t necessarily mean that they have bad intentions.

Abuela Alma never had bad intentions throughout the movie, but she opposed Mirabel’s view on how the magic could be saved and what is really tearing this family apart. She never really tells Mirabel off with bad intentions, she just has a different perspective that opposes her which creates conflict.

The reason of why we Alma is seen in a bad light is because we are seeing Mirabel’s point of view in the entire situation. We know how Mirabel feels and how she feels, but we don’t really see the full Alma Madrigal in the film but rather glances of her that make her seen as the “bad guy” of Mirabel’s story.

Still, that does NOT justify Abuela’s terrible actions. I’m just stating that we don’t get to really see how Alma perceive things which can explain (NOT justify) the way she acts.

One of the things I find interesting when analyzing characters (still, taking from the previous point) is how the story can actually shifts perspectives, roles, and overall who is the actual good guy of the story. Encanto doesn’t have villains, it just have complex antagonist that challenge Mirabel’s POV (like the town talking terribly about Bruno, or her difficult relationship with Alma.) Just like the town’s perspective of Bruno, Alma’s perpective on what’s right is meant to clash with Mirabel’s perspective on the things, which creates conflict and advances the story but doesn’t necessarily make anyone from the sort the antagonist.

Of course that many people were wrong about Bruno and what was really causing the conflicts, but there are not really strong reasons to make them villains. Not to mention that the movie is not about who is wrong or who is right, it was about a dysfunctional family accepting themselves, which really highlights Alma’s role to oppose Mirabel’s view but also represent the other side of the argument.

Alma’s antagonical role, in structure wise, represents the argumentative side in oposition to the role Mirabel plays in “Encanto.” She, as a character, perfectly balances out Mirabel better than the town or any of the family members like Isabela (who also seems to have conflict with Mirabel in the story), and her interaction with Mirabel throughout the movie is more intense because they are kind of the two sides of the same conflict:

What is really best for the Madrigal family and how can we preserve the magic?

Still, everyone’s entitled to their own perspective and opinions and portray the character as they want. I just disagree with the way some people portray Alma, which is fine not everyone is going to like her, but I feel that she is a great character to analyze over rather than just say she’s a bad person.

Part 2. Abuela does love and cares for Mirabel and her family, She’s just taking her role as the matriarch of the family.

Alma can be seen as quite cold and strict for being an abuela and placing a lot of pressure under her family, which can make believe she only cares about their gifts. Let me tell you that my Abuela was certainly like Alma when growing up with her. Just as Alma, my Nana lost her husband at a pretty young age and had to take care of six children all by herself. Based from stories my mom and my aunts told me about my Abuela, she was quite stern and could be quite mean at times, but that was the way she was raised as and she had a lot to carry (plus grieving over her death husband.) 

They never justify her actions, but they mentioned that my abuela had to make a lot of sacrifices just like Alma had to make. She made a lot of mistakes, but did what she thought was best for the family and as the matriarch. Abuela is very respected in our family as a woman who rose from poverty and raised my amazing family by herself, and now gets to travel a lot + she’s a very sweet woman with a gentle soul who makes mistakes as a human being.

So, I could see a lot of my abuela in Alma Madrigal. Both had to be stern because she needed to keep order around the house as a matriarch. At first glance you could believe my Abuela didn’t care about us just like people believe that Alma doesn’t, but in reality both always thought about their family in the actions they took. I’m not going to say that they were the right actions, but both have good intentions.

Now, let me talk about the important role Alma has as the family’s matriarch and abuela. Maybe my Hispanic culture is a lot different from other cultures (I’m taking the American perspective, since I live in the U.S.), but Hispanic abuelas aren’t your sweet old ladies that bake cookies. They are quite stern, strict, and will not hesitate to correct you, or hit you with a chancla for misbehaving. Still, they show how much they love you in their own though way just as Alma does with her family. After watching once against the breakfast scene. Let me tell you that is Alma is acting just as a Hispanic abuela and a matriarch would. My abuela was quite stern and strict with me, but she only wanted to see me grow into the best version of myself just as Abuela wants for her family.

I’ll go on to talk about the probably reasons of her “cold demeanor” and the pressure she places in the next section because I noticed something important about her role in the story and story building of the movie that I don’t know if it is addressed in here, but I’ll address it anyways because it is very important about understanding Abuela Alma in Encanto.

Anyways, I was rewatching as many scenes with Alma interacting with the other family members, and I was trying to look upon her expressions and her tone of voice. I found myself chuckling at how cute her positive interactions were or how soft her tone was when she spoke (when she was not upset.) I honestly love the way she speaks with Mirabel in most of her scenes. Her tone is not cold or distant, she speaks with noticeable love and affection. Of course that she scolds her, but she still sounds caring. She just acts as a mother correcting her child with Mirabel in most of the misunderstandings prior to the whole climax of the scene.

I also loved the fact that, even though she didn’t really appreciate having animals on her seat, she thank Antonio for his consideration instead of scolding him for his actions. I know that some of you would say that she didn’t do that because he was a child, or that her parents were around, but in that same scene she scolds Mirabel. As I mentioned before,  Hispanic abuelas will not hesitate to correct you if you did something wrong or scold you. That means that they don’t care if your parents are around, you’re never save from the chancla. I guarantee that fac based on experience.

Anyways, Alma in majority of the film treats her family with respect but is quite strict and a bit pushy, since she’s the leader of the Madrigals and the martriarch. Still, she genuienly showed cared for the family and never really was that mean to them. When she was angry or scolding them, for me (since my Abuela is like that) she was just taking her role and the duty to mantain things in order. She was correcting them when she felt whenever it was needed, but she does show love and appriciation for them in her tone of voice. Still, she made serval mistakes with her family, and that is not excuse to how they negatively affect it.

Before y’all come with the whole “She was blaming Mirabel for the magic being lost.” I think it was something she said in the heat of the momment, I’m NOT saying that what she said was okay, but I’m only saying that she never really meant that. In that scene Alma was probably upset over Mirabel for “misbehaving” (more on that in another section), and Casita being a mess. It also didn’t help that Mirabel was rambling about the magic, and Alma was having none of that. It had happened to me and many loved ones that we scream things that we never meant to say. We are just not thinking clearly. I do believe that is what happened with Alma in that scene as later in the film she tells Mirabel that was never her fault.

Note: I like of the cracks of Casita really represents how the family is really falling appart, and I just find quite heartbreaking the final cracks are dividing Mirabel and Alma after she tells her Abuela about why she is wrong.

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227 notas. Fecha de publicación: 6 de febrero de 2022

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