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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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What a coward ass account. I’ve asked about several questions but I bet you won’t answer it because apparently you ship a fake ship and have 0 backbone and you can’t argue with anyone because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship. Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that. Wake up. Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy so how tf are y’all so fucking delulu and blind?

You know, normally I’d just delete something as rude as this but honestly you gave me a good laugh with it so I’ll take the bait. But FYI, while I planned on answering these questions sooner or later, because imagine this, some of us have jobs and things we need to take care of and thus sometimes just don’t have the time to write posts, especially when some of them take a lot of time and research, even more so when an average thematic post from me is somewhere between 2 and 5k words long. That takes a hot minute to write. Not that you’d care, but now I don’t think I’ll answer them because I truly don’t appreciate you coming into our asks and being this unnecessary level of rude. If you felt like I skipped your question or was taking an oddly long time to answer, it would’ve sufficed to send in a small question about it and you would’ve gotten a normal answer for it, but guess not.

There are several things I find extremely interesting and also hilarious about your ask, especially since they confirm basically every suspicion I have about shipping when it comes to Bangtan and mlm ships in general.

But I’d like to start with this first because it really made me pause there for a minute: “because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship” Since your ask is about Namjin I will assume this part is as well, yes, and I really am struggling to see how they, of all ships, are a “fanservice” one considering both Namjoon and Seokjin aren’t really big on skinship and initiating hugs and touches. What, exactly, about them is fanservice? Even more so since you go on to say this: “Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” so if these are your definition of what constitutes a) fanservice and b) a relationship, yet you claim Namjin is just fanservice, how can that be if you say they never do any? This math doesn’t math, you know.

Before I get ahead of myself, let’s break this down point by point, shall we?

1. “Jin is never intimate with Joon” – Tell me, dear anon, how exactly do you know that? Are you their friend? A fly living on their wall and watching over them 24/7? And also, how, exactly, are we supposed to be shown that by them? Is Namjoon supposed to walk over to Seokjin and, I don’t know, make out with him while Bangtan B*mb Noona stands a meter away and films the whole thing? What even does intimate mean in your definition? I have a sneaking suspicion of what you’re asking for but I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

Since I like language, let’s get into the literal definition of the word intimate, shall we, because you might be surprised to find it doesn’t just mean what you think it does. According to the Cambridge dictionary, intimate has several meanings, and what Namjoon and Seokjin show us and tell us that they have is actually several of them:

“Being a close, personal friend”, does that ring a bell? It does, doesn’t it? Namjoon and Seokjin have known each other for ten years almost, have spent a considerable amount of time together, have had dinner with each other’s families, Namjoon was at Seokjin’s brother’s wedding, and Namjoon is the person he turns to when it comes to his lyrics, always makes sure to thank Namjoon in his Thank You section in their albums, and supports him however he sees fit. Isn’t that intimate?

I know you mean the sexual kind of intimate, and truly that is something neither you nor I have any knowledge of and, surprise, it’s none of our business either. If I remember correctly, we’ve never brought up anything really sexual in any of our posts because I don’t believe in this whole “sexual tension” thing that toxic shippers go around preaching about. Even if it were there, that’s not for us to discuss because their sex life is none of our business.

Next.

2. “never tells me he loves him” – Never tells you he loves him? And why, pray tell, should he tell you, specifically? Yes, I’m being petty, so what. Love speaks many different languages, and saying the words “I love you” is just one of many, many different ways in which you can let someone know you love and cherish them, romantically and platonically. Years ago when Seokjin posted a cover on SoundCloud he said in the accompanying post that he prefers saying I like you over I love you, so I guess that means he just doesn’t love anyone, yes? Besides, is he obliged to stand in front of the camera and profess his undying love to Namjoon for you to believe he loves our dearest leader?

Isn’t it enough that he shows his love and respect for Namjoon in other ways, like praising him when Namjoon was being hard on himself so Seokjin told him he did well and that he always does well even in tricky situations, or being by his side during red carpets and other such things because Namjoon once asked him to do so because he feels calmer when Seokjin is by his side? Isn’t that a beautiful way of showing someone you love them, regardless if it’s romantic or platonic love?

Next.

3. “never goes out of his way to spoil him” – Is Seokjin Namjoon’s sugar daddy? Did I miss something?

Next.

4. “never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” – now this point I have the biggest rage at because neither of these things—possessiveness and jealousy—are good things, especially not in a romantic relationship, but really, they aren’t a good thing in any kind of relationship. Possessiveness is a slippers slope, as is jealousy, the former being a great gateway toward an abusive relationship and while that might be “”””cute”””” in raunchy romance novels and movies, it isn’t in real life. And neither is jealousy. The only thing jealousy really tells and shows you, in the context you are going for, is insecurity and a lack of faith in your relationship and especially your partner. And that, again, isn’t a good or healthy thing for a relationship, especially not a romantic one. I know toxic shippers eat up this whole jealousy bs, YouTube is full of it after all and brings in hundreds of thousands of views (and dollars), but that has nothing to do with real life. So, the fact that we never see Seokjin, or Namjoon, jealous or possessive over the other? That is a good thing. Besides, enlighten me, how is this jealousy supposed to look like because true jealousy doesn’t appear written across your face in neon letters. I’m curious.

Next.

5. “Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that.” – if that is your opinion, I’m happy for you. I won’t go out of my way to prove to you why I think differently or why you should because that’s not what I’m here for. Yes, I have a certain opinion on Namjin, that’s true, but I’m not a toxic shipper who will fights someone tooth and nail over it because that’s stupid. And won’t change anything anyway. Besides, my opinion doesn’t in any shape or form negate that they are friends. Every good relationship should have friendship as basis, and I very much believe that they are very close friends, while your phrasing makes it seem like you think they are only work friends, as in people who are friends during working hours but stop once they clock out of work, just saying.

The purpose of this blog isn’t to somehow convert people into shippers or convince them of something, instead it’s simply supposed to be a happy space where we share our opinions, have fun with Bangtan, their music and everything else, and can have civil conversations without calling anyone out or calling each other names. It’s literally in our blog description “Sharing thoughts on everything Bangtan, as well as vmin and namjin”, meaning it is a blog “designed” for both OT7s as well as people who already are vminnies or namjinists, or both, and yet if someone happens to start liking one of these two pairings because of our posts, like I’ve seen happen with some readers and namjin, that’s great, but that’s not our primary goal in any kind of way.

This is our blog which also means we have the freedom to answer whichever asks we want to and however quickly we want or can. Chances are, perhaps, the way you phrased your ask simply didn’t sit well with us and thus we decided against answering it at the time. Just some food for thought.

Lastly, there are a lot of blogs that surely represent your opinions and agree with you, so what, exactly, are you looking for on our blog? Do you think by sending an ask like this, or questioning my opinions in such a manner, you’ll be able to convert us away from our opinions? Neither of us forces anyone to agree with everything we say, so you don’t have to either, and we also don’t force anyone to read our posts. If you don’t like what we post, you are free to look for a different blog with which you’ll be able to agree and find your opinion represented, I won’t stop you. Enjoy.

#answered ask

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 7)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: descriptions of vomiting, borderline nsfw, a hobbit reference, fluff as always

words: 4.3k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: y’all are gonna think these bad things didn’t happen but like. tour straight from hell or something. anyways! a few chapters left, and then this baby is done. I’M SORRY THIS IS A BEEFY CHAPTER IT’S IMPORTANT FOR PLOT STUFF kinda. hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

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“As long as I don’t have to room with Pagey over here, I’m fine with anything.”

“Hey! Bonzo, come on!”

“What? You snore.”

Touching down in Detroit, the band drives down to the hotel, set on a good night’s sleep before a crucial performance. Stuck in the lobby, jetlag slowing their movements as their eyes drift shut briefly, they attempt to sort out the rooms for their stay. With three rooms available, the five of them work out who gets the coveted single room.

“I think Jimmy and Robert should take a room together: everyone already thinks they’re together anyways. I’ll take the solo room.”

Robert squawks in surprise, which turns into a full-blown coughing fit, as he nearly doubles at the waist from the force. Layla brings a hand to his back, rubbing a soothing circle into the fabric of his light shirt. How he wasn’t shivering in the face of Detroit in January was beyond her. The coughing finally ceases, and Robert sucks in a breath, breathing ragged from the strain.

“Are you alright, Robert?”

“Of course, little dove,” Robert answers, patting the hand that now rests on his shoulder. “My throat is just a tad dry, I bet.”

“Okay…”

“If you don’t mind,” Robert moves toward the sitting area behind them, casting a hand out dramatically to show it off, as though it were the height of luxury. “I’ll be over here, resting my weary legs.”

With a puzzled glance towards Robert, the group continues bickering.

“Jonesy, you know Jimmy’s gonna want to room with his petal,” Bonzo says, emphasizing the nickname, and Layla didn't even need to see his face to detect the smirk that was surely playing on his lips. “Robert can room with you, so I can have the solo room.”

“Excuse me, do we not get a say in this?” Jimmy asks, hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks. His cheeks are suspiciously flushed, as if he was embarrassed by Bonzo’s teasing. He’d never admit it, but the pink flooding his cheeks serves as evidence.

“Nope.” Jonesy and Bonzo reply in unison.

Robert, uncharacteristically silent, slithers up behind them, standing from his post on the comfortable lobby chair. Spotted by the concierge at the front desk, he puts a long finger up to his lips, and sticks a hand towards the solo room key that rests on the counter. Snatching it up with practiced ease, Robert smirks, and walks carefully back to his seat. Layla, casting an eye over the remaining keys, notices the disappearance, and locks eyes with the rest of the band.

“Guys… Where’d the solo key go?”

“What?”

“It was— It was just here!”

“Well,” Robert stretches as he stands, unfurling his long limbs. Raising his hand, the stolen key dangling from it like precious, golden treasure, he steps backwards jauntily. “I had better get to my room, now. It’s been lovely chatting.”

With that, he’s off, scrambling for the elevators, leaving his friends in the dust. Bonzo and Jonesy share a glance, and lunge for a key, walking away from the couple, who look after them with wide eyes.

“Do I really snore that bad?”

“I mean…”

“I’m injured, that means you can’t be mean to me.”

“Since when has that stopped me? Also,” Layla pauses, turning to Jimmy, unconsciously taking his hand in her own. “You took a pill before we left the venue, right? You’re not in pain?”

“I took one, but… I’ll be fine.”

“Jimmy—”

“Come now, let’s go find our room.” The guitarist pulls her towards him, resting an arm across her shoulder as they walk to the elevator. Idle chatter follows as they walk to their shared room. Unlocking the door, Jimmy pulls it open, to discover a finely furnished room, with a sitting area accented by maple wood. The blinds were pulled back to reveal a view of downtown Detroit, dark sky bringing the city to life. The only thing out of place, however, was the bed. A single, queen-sized bed, clothed in a tan comforter, sat in the middle of the room. The couple glance at each other, and, finding the other looking right back, force their eyes elsewhere. Layla, fishing a pair of pyjamas out of her suitcase, moves to the bathroom to change into the ensemble: a pair of grey shorts, and an old threadbare t-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Walking out of the ensuite, her eyes fall upon Jimmy, laying on one side of the large bed, dressed in green plaid pajama pants, and a soft cotton top. His head turns as he hears the woman approach, and he gives her a sweet smile. Layla climbs into the bed, turning to face him.

“You look cozy.” Jimmy says, nudging her lightly as she laughs.

“As do you. I would’ve expected you to be dressed in a black satin ensemble, if I’m being honest.”

The laugh that flies out past Jimmy’s cupid’s bow lips warms Layla to the core, and she can’t help but slide closer to the man.

“And why is that?”

“Your image, it’s just very… mysterious. It’s a good thing I know the truth, now,” She leans closer to him, slotting her head into the junction of his neck, resting on his shoulder. “You’re just a softie.”

“You’d be surprised, petal.”

“I’m sure.”

As they drift off, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat, they can’t help but feel at home. Their arms wrap around each other, legs tangling together as they sleep soundly.

----------

The morning sun bright against her eyelids, Layla nuzzles further into Jimmy, black hair tickling her nose. All is tranquil, until a deep rumble pierces the fragile silence: her stomach. Layla extricates herself from Jimmy’s lax grip, and changes into a colourful button-up, tucked into a pair of dark flared jeans. Intent on taking the hotel up on their offer of a continental breakfast, she rushes down to the lobby. It’s when she passes the men’s restroom on the main floor, that she hears it. A groan, muffled through the closed door. This is followed by harsh dry-heave, as if someone had been throwing up.

“Uh… Excuse me, sir, ” She knocks on the door, hoping that whoever was in there could hear her voice. “Are you… okay in there?” Seconds pass, until a familiar voice breaks the tense silence.

“...Layla?”

“Robert?”

“Fancy…” A gasp stops him in his tracks as he chokes once more. Layla can imagine the scene: Robert kneeling on the floor, face pressed to the cool tiles, whatever he had in his stomach lost to the porcelain throne. Finally recovered, he tries again. “Fancy meeting you here, little dove.”

“Robert, I’m coming in.”

Opening the door, she’s met with an unpleasant smell, and the sight of blonde curls falling across hunched shoulders. Kneeling down beside the sick man, she puts a hand to his back, the other rushing to hold his hair back. He puts a hand on her thigh, the only part of her he could reach in that particular position, and gives it a light squeeze in thanks. A few seconds pass as Robert coughs out some more, until, spent, he sits back against the wall of the tiny stall he had run into.

“Are you okay, now? What happened?”

“I was… hankering for some breakfast, maybe a spot of tea, and I got halfway through a helping of eggs,” Robert explains, leaning his head on Layla’s shoulder, exhaustion lining his tan face. Somehow, he had kept his hair out of the way before she had gotten there, and it was as lush and as soft as ever. “When my stomach decided, ‘maybe eggs aren’t the best choice for today.’”

“Were you feeling like this yesterday?”

“Had a cough yesterday, wasn’t feeling sick, though. Must be a simple flu.” Layla maneuvers to place a hand on the man’s forehead, which feels as though it may just scorch her palm.

“Robert, you’re burning up!”

“I’m okay, little dove.”

“What is with you boys and saying you’re fine, when you’re clearly not?”

“It’s a habit…” Robert trails off, head slipping lower, chin touching his chest. He’s about to pass out, eyelashes fluttering gold under the harsh restroom lights, when Layla nudges him.

“I’m up, I’m up…”

“Robert, I need to go get you some help. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Layla sits up, just about to get to her feet when an overly warm hand grabs hers.

“Layla, don’t go…”

“Robert,” she starts, running a soft hand through his unruly curls. The singer melts into her side, eyes drooping. “I’ve gotta get someone. Please, just… stay here. Do not move.”

She jumps to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom in search of someone that can help. Turning the corner hastily, she nearly runs into Peter, who had been making his way to breakfast, Bonzo at his side. Stopping the men in their tracks with a hand held out in front of her, Layla relays the situation.

“Guys, Robert’s got the flu, and he’s been throwing up,” Layla points to the bathroom sheltering the blond in question, and turns back to the two men, who look frazzled by her rambling. “Please, can you get him up to his room? I’m gonna get him some Gatorade, something to help hydrate him.”

Immediately, Layla’s eyes widen at the slip, though the men think nothing of it, passing her with a nod and scurrying into the bathroom to retrieve the singer. Walking to the vending machine in the lobby, Layla places a number of loose coins, dug up from the depths of her jean pockets, into the slot and punches the button painted with the design of a lightning bolt. The machine rumbles, and Layla soon holds in her hand a can, labelled ‘Gatorade’. Huh, she thinks, it seems that some things remain the same after all.

Dashing to Robert’s room, she finds him tucked into his bed, bare-chested. Layla sets the drink down, sitting on the edge of the man’s bed. Her fingers begin to thread through his hair once more, and he stirs.

“Layla?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Rob.”

“Isn’t… Isn’t Jimmy gonna be jealous?”

“Go to sleep, Plant. You’ll be okay.”

“But…”

The woman shushes him, and he relaxes into her touch, drifting off finally. Layla stays, guarding the man, until he wakes up. The Gatorade sitting on the bedside table goes warm, Layla too preoccupied with the bedridden blond.

----------

Layla, leaving the sick vocalist in Peter’s capable hands, walks out of the room with a yawn. He should be okay, though the same might not be true for his voice. If she thought it had been a little hoarse yesterday, it was nothing compared to when he had awoken. Thoughts occupied, she had almost walked right into Jonesy, who had just turned the corner. Layla startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, and looks up into Jonesy’s eyes.

“Sorry, Jonesy. Guess I was a little distracted.”

“No worries. Is Robert okay? Bonzo just told me.”

Layla looks towards the closed door of Robert’s room, scratching the back of her neck. Turning back to Jonesy, she nods, smiling at the bassist.

“He should be okay, yeah. His voice might be a little rough, and he’s got a bit of a fever, but it’ll pass.”

“That's great to hear! Oh, Layla,” Jonesy starts, bringing his voice down to a whisper as to not alert anyone to their conversation. “Can we talk about something quickly? It’s about the… time travel… thing.”

Layla nods, and follows Jonesy into his room, the bassist flicking on the lights. Bonzo had been with Robert ever since they’d brought him up, so the hotel room was completely empty. Perfect for a private conversion. Sitting on the bed closest to the eggshell wall, Jonesy turns to face Layla, his hands fiddling with one another.

“I may have found some answers. It’s not much, but…”

Layla jerks, stunned by the admission, as her mouth opens and closes, doing her best impression of a fish out of water. She shakes her head, willing herself to respond, as Jonesy patiently waits.

“Wh-What? How? Jonesy, you—”

“Do you remember how, when we first talked about this, I had mentioned that guitarist? The one that had the same thing happen to him?”

“Yeah, you said he’d just vanished, listening to some playback?”

Jonesy nods, giving the woman a kind smile. He looks down at his hands again, and continues.

“Layla… What do you remember about the day you came here?”

“I was just getting ready for work,” Layla recounts, her face a picture of confusion. “When the turntable I have in my room started playing out of the blue.”

“It… It started playing on it’s own?”

“It started playing this song… I swear I don’t even have it on vinyl, but the lyrics were… they were beautiful. I reached out to stop it, and… then I was in the middle of the road.”

Jonesy fidgets again, eyes flitting around the room as he works out the best way to present his findings. Finally, he catches her gaze, and takes a small hand in one of his. Layla looks up at him, worry gleaming in her dark eyes as she waits for him to speak.

“The other day, I placed a call to my old friend, asking about his experience. He said… He said that the playback started on its own. He didn't push a single button.”

“But that means that…”

“...That this… time travel, seems to happen almost randomly.”

“The music. That’s what starts it… Did he say anything else?”

Jonesy looks down, shaking his head, his short hair flopping across his forehead. Looking back at Layla, he smiles apologetically.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming about what happened… though he did sound… sad? When it happened, he did mention a girl... I’m not sure exactly how this works, or why it works, but, Layla… He told me he had been there for years. He was…”

“Jonesy?” Layla calls his name, the man in question jolting, having gotten lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Locking eyes with the woman beside him, he continues, tone serious.

“He was gone for three days. If this is the same situation, I doubt you’ll have been gone for more than two days at most, when you go back.”

“This is,” Layla starts, hand coming up to run through her hair. She shakes her head, meeting Jonesy’s eyes. “This is insane…”

“Layla, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help. He just didn’t want to share, and—”

The bassist is interrupted by the sensation of arms around him, and sweet-smelling dark hair in his face. Hugging the woman back, he can’t help but be struck by the thought that he’s going to miss her, when she leaves. Pulling away, Layla swipes a finger under her eyes, obscuring any tears that might have fallen. Jonesy looks down at her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Jonesy, I… I want to apologize.”

“For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Is this like, a Canadian thing? I’ve heard you people apologize a lot.”

“I… I acted like… a bitch, to you all, when I first met you. I was rude, and I was… probably a little too sarcastic, and I never told you, or anyone, how—”

Jonesy pulls her in for another hug, and feels Layla bury her face into his shoulder, pulling away after a good while.

“I, uh… You probably don’t want to hear all the gory details, but… I learned to put up walls. To not let people in, ‘cause they’ll just leave. Looks like I’ll be the one doing the leaving this time…”

She chuckles wetly, scratching her arm unconsciously. Jonesy puts a steady hand on hers, stopping the movement.

“Layla…”

“When I got here, I was… scared,” Layla sniffles, looking away, too embarrassed at the admission to meet Jonesy’s pleading eyes. “Peter was the first face I saw when I woke up, and he was trustworthy. He helped me. You guys walked in and… I shut down. I put up walls, and I acted like… like nothing was bothering me.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain—”

“Look, Jonesy,” Layla interrupts, gaze still firmly on a scuff mark on her sneakers. “I just… I do appreciate everything you guys have done, especially you, and… I didn’t show that. Maybe I still don’t.” Jonesy gives the hand still in his a squeeze, prompting Layla to finally look at him. He’s shocked by the tears threatening to fall, her brown eyes dark with sadness.

“That’s not true. You make me smile every day, and you’re fun and… you’re like my little sister. It’s the same for Bonzo. He’s fond of you, even if he hides it, most of the time. He’s comfortable with you. You took care of Robert, and you comforted him. If you didn’t care, would you have stayed with him, stroking his hair for an hour?”

“Jonesy…”

“No, Layla, listen. Jimmy… God, he thinks so highly of you. He listens to you, which is a feat in and of itself. His face lights up whenever you’re around. The way he talks about you… We know you care. You care too much sometimes, if anything. You don’t have to apologize, because there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

Layla gazes into his stormy eyes, and nods, a fragile smile lighting up her face. Jonesy smiles back, and stands from his spot on the bed. Holding out a hand to help her up, Jonesy waits for Layla to take it, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a familiar embrace.

“God, Porter, you’re like…Bilbo Baggins, with how tiny you are.” Jonesy rests his arm on her head as he says this, smirking down at the woman.

“Says you, Jones.” Layla laughs, smiling gratefully at the bassist as they walk out the door.

----------

Slipping the ornate key into the lock on the door, Layla enters the room, spotting Jimmy sitting at the table near the window, a notepad and a ballpoint pen resting on the surface. The sunlight streaming in illuminates his face, as he squints against the brightness of it, writing furiously. Layla steps closer, taking in the sight before her. Perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, the sound of pen on paper ceasing as he looks up at the intruder.

“Hey, Jim. What’re you writing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

Glancing at the paper strewn across the tabletop, Layla spots hastily drawn staves, neat music notes decorating the lines. At the top of the page, reads: ‘Tea For One”. It didn’t seem like there was much to it yet, but Layla couldn't wait to hear it.

“Hey,” Jimmy starts, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, tell-tale nerves making their appearance. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Robert’s still sleeping, Peter’s keeping an eye on him.”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, as he beckons Layla closer with a hand outstretched towards her. Taking it, Layla moves into his space, running her fingers through his hair as he looks up at her. She takes a handful of the soft sable locks and brings it up to the top of his head, a curtain of curly bangs falling over his eyes. Layla laughs as he frowns, looking up at her through emerald eyes sparkling with hidden happiness.

“I wasn’t talking about Robert, petal. How are you doing? I saw you walking with Jonesy, and you looked… nervous?”

“Oh,” Layla said, dropping her hands from the guitarist’s hair, scrambling for an adequate response. “I was just… a little on edge about Robert being sick and all, so Jonesy reassured me.”

“He’ll be okay, Layla. I hear you took great care of him.” The tail of the sentence is accompanied by a soft smirk, as he gazes at the woman, eyes roaming head to toe.

“Are you jealous, Page?”

“Well… I can’t help but want you all to myself, you know.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.”

Jimmy scoffs, taking her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Layla looks down at the joined hands, and Jimmy uses this to his advantage, pulling her even closer to sit in his lap. She lands with a soft noise of surprise, and Jimmy presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss.

“Romeo… That’s a new one.”

“What can I say? It fits you.”

“How?” Layla tilts her head to the side at this, a finger pressed to her chin in mock contemplation. A hand strokes the apple of the guitarist’s cheek, as she smiles winningly.

“Well, for starters, you’re too romantic for your own good. I wouldn't put it past you to recreate the balcony scene. Full dramatics, of course.”

“That must make you Juliet then, falling for my charm.”

“I mean, I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”

“Truly, I’m flattered,” Jimmy jokes, looking down at Layla, lips quirked in a smile. “And I thought you just liked me for my hair. You do keep messing with it, after all.”

“Well…” Layla giggles, tugging on a stray curl that frames his squared jaw. “That’s your fault for keeping it so long. Free real estate.”

Jimmy, smiling fondly at the woman in his lap, taps her leg, and she stands. Layla sticks a hand out to help him up, surely just an excuse to touch him again. Jimmy takes the offered hand, and places a hand on her hip as he pushes russet curls behind her ear.

“Bonzo was saying something about a trip down to the hotel pool, if you were interested. I can’t swim myself, but I’d be happy to join you… If you want to, of course.”

“Sounds like fun,” Layla exclaims, face lighting up at the prospect of a fun night at the pool. “Who else would I splash when they’re not paying attention, but you?”

“I shouldn’t have offered…”

With a wink, Layla bounds over to her suitcase and pulls out a swimsuit, heading into the bathroom to change. Jimmy changes into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and sits on their shared bed to wait for Layla, who walks out of the bathroom, a hand running up and down her arm shyly. She clears her throat, wincing at the volume of it, as Jimmy lifts his head to look at her. A sharp intake of breath rings out in the silence of the room as his mouth falls open, blatantly checking her out. Dressed in a simple, sleek black one-piece that accentuates her curves, dark hair cascading down freckled shoulders, Layla stands in front of him, arms crossed shyly over her chest. Jimmy nears, a hand going to her elbow.

“Petal, you look…”

“Is it okay?”

His response to her question comes in the form of a heated kiss, hand moving from her elbow to her cheek. Finally pulling away, he looks her up and down once more.

“You look… gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Layla runs a hand across his chest, making the man shiver, mind going haywire from the electric touch. The man looks down at her with a question in his eyes, dark with desire, and she nods. Jimmy walks her backwards until she’s pressed up against the wall, the man moving further into her space.

“Is this alright, petal?” he says, smirk in place as he gazes into Layla’s eyes, teasing her.

“God, just kiss me.”

And he does.

The couple’s lips move in unison, noses bumping together in their haste to connect. Jimmy’s uninjured hand moves back to its place on her hip as he groans into the kiss, biting her lip as she melts into him. Layla takes the noise as an invitation, slipping her fingers closer to the waistband of the man’s shorts. They pull away, Jimmy nodding, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen with the force of the kiss. Layla’s hair is mussed, Jimmy’s hands running through it as they move together. Layla’s hand slips lower, as Jimmy's own rests at her shoulder, fiddling with the bathing suit, hoping to uncover what lay beneath.

“I hope you’re not having sex in there! Let’s go, the pool won’t be open all day!” Bonzo’s voice booms through the closed door as the couple spring apart, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed scarlet. With a huff, they walk to the door, pulling it open to find Bonzo and Jonesy, dressed for a swim.

“You guys look… Um… Did we interrupt something?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Layla and Jimmy respond in unison, eyes wide as they look at the rhythm section, who shake their heads in exasperation.

“Whatever, just…. Keep it in your pants for a little longer, please.” With that, Bonzo and Jonesy walk away, Jimmy and Layla scrambling to keep up. Finally reaching the pool, Bonzo and Layla dive in immediately, while Jonesy sits on the edge, legs dangling in the water below. Jimmy takes a seat next to him, slipping a foot into the water hesitantly. Immediately, he pulls it out with a gasp, much to the amusement of his friends.

“That was so cold!”

“How about this, then?”

A wave splashes Jimmy right in the chest, and he shrieks, curling up to avoid the spray. Layla laughs, having splashed him in the first place. Jimmy, recovered from the shock of freezing water on his bare chest, frowns at the woman. His eyes, however, held an air of mischief, as if he was planning something.

“Come here for a second, petal?” Layla swims closer to him, a smirk tilting her lips upwards, dark eyes dancing with amusement. She stands up when she nears him, slotting herself between his legs

“Yes, Jimmy?”

His response was to bring a hand up to her cheek, drawing her in for a short, sweet kiss, a small taste of what they had been doing until they were interrupted. They pull away, and stare into the other’s eyes, as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. Bonzo, sends a glance to Jonesy, who smirks at the couple, knowing exactly what was coming.

Bonzo sends a burst of frigid water at them, laughing uncontrollably as Layla, who had received the brunt of the splash, turns around, dripping hair plastered to the sides of her face.

“Oh, it’s on, Bonham.”

“Let’s go, Porter. ”

The two engage in a splash war of epic proportions, water flying everywhere. Jimmy and Jonesy dodge the tidal waves that jet towards them, as laughter bounces off the tiled walls. This was a reprieve from the bad luck that seemed to follow the band as of late.

It’s a shame it won’t last.

--------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry, and seemingly to your happy future.

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes.

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss.

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words.

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty.

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore.

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends.

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip.

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake.

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining…

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you.

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory.

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though.

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads.

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard.

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth.

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head.

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Note

41 for javid would work so perfectly ahfkfjxhsga and/or 34, whichever one u want 🥺🥺🥺

I was scared to come out and ask you out because I didn’t know our entire friend group was gay but I definitely know now???

and

We broke up but I found the letters you wrote me before that and I still love you so wanna get back together? (did I copy this from one specific fic I read? Possibly.)

Ok! Buckle in your seatbelts, y’all! This is gonna be a MASSIVELY LONG THING! Also @61-flaming-sour-cherry-scones I love your url. Just getting that out there. Modern AU, btw. Also does this end in December, 2019, conveniently avoiding COVID? Possibly! :)

...

Jack didn’t mean to find that box, but in his defense, it was not hidden well. Just in the back of his closet, which he hadn’t cleaned out since... damn. Since the breakup.

And Jack was fine with said breakup, by the way. Him and Davey weren’t right together anymore.

And Jack didn’t smile less, or work himself harder as a distraction, or whatever bullshit his brothers, mom, and all his friends said.

If Davey never texted first anymore, or barely even talked when friends asked him to hang out or whatever, that was none of Jack’s business.

Jack had texted Davey exactly once since the breakup, because Elmer had told him that he had an anxiety attack in a bar, which he was only there in the first place because he was designated driver.

Davey had said he was fine, and that meant he was, right?

Davey had not mentioned anything about leaving a shoebox in Jack’s closet. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t mentioned it, ever.

Did it sting that Jack’s ex had kept a secret box of... something? from him? Maybe. Whatever the case, Jack was curious by nature, and he was definitely opening the box.

It was... letters? Sealed letters in envelopes, the earliest one on the very top, in one corner of the box. The only thing written on it was a date; September 7th, 2011.

That would be... 8th grade? Probably the first day of school? Jack was super confused. Still, he opened the letter.

Dear Jack Kelly,

I know this is terrible and corny and I’m probably going to shred this letter with the pocket knife Sarah got for our last birthday, but I had to write it down somewhere.

I think I’m gay. Specifically, gay for you. And I know that’s weird, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re like the living personification of the moon. (Not the sun. I’ve never understood why people compare their crush to the sun. Nobody likes looking directly at that.) You saw me sitting alone before school and you took me in. I mean it. You brought me over to your friend group and said I was a new kid who was going to be your friend now, and the whole group just adopted me without questioning it. All of you are so nice. At first I thought it was a trick, but then I saw you comforting Blink when he had a panic attack. (Also, I’m still getting used to the nickname thing. That’s still weird and I’m not sure how I feel about the one you gave me.) You were so gentle with him, Jack. You knew exactly how to calm him down and you were so patient with him while you helped Mush drive the fear away. I didn’t think boys our age knew how to be like that. I do now, because of you. Well, and because of Race being, well, Race. I don’t think anyone could mistake him for a bully. Or Crutchie. Or Romeo. Heck, most of your group is just so nice I can barely believe it. I think I’ll bring Saz to meet you tomorrow. She already made a friend, but she said that this girl, Katherine, said she already knows you. Maybe we can all be friends.

I really wish we could be more, but I know that would never work. I can’t tell anyone I’m gay. You’d think I’m a freak. But since you’ll never read this, I can admit it here: I have a massive crush on you, Jack Kelly.

Sincerely, David Davey

Jack was not going to let himself cry about a letter written in 8th fucking grade. He was, however, very confused about why it was in his closet.

A letter from before Davey was out of the closet found in the closet. If Jack wasn’t so goddamn depressed, he would appreciate the irony.

The next letter was dated: September 24th, 2011.

Dear Jack,

We’re all friends now. Gotta say, I already can’t imagine my life without you and the other guys. And maybe I didn’t meet Kath that first day, but she’s probably my best friend, besides you, of course. She’s the only other one with brain cells, besides maybe Specs. Us three had to talk you and the others out of riding a shopping cart Albert stole from Walmart down a hill yesterday. Honestly, would it kill you to be a little smarter? I know for a fact you can be, Jack Kelly. You and the others actually have a fair amount of brain cells each when apart. It’s only when the only group gets together that you all do stupid stuff.

I didn’t shred the first letter. I think maybe I’ll keep these and we can look back someday and laugh about me having a crush on you in middle school. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get over it before it ruins our friendship.

I honestly don’t see how I’d survive losing you, Jack. So, please, do me a favor and keep being oblivious to how I really feel about you until I digest those butterflies you give me.

Sincerely, Davey

Damn. Reading that was like a punch to the chest and Jack had to take a deep breath before moving on to the next letter.

The next few were just mundane stuff. Little notes on how Jack laughed or interacted with certain friends or whatever. The way he painted each friend something little for the holidays and how they all had a picnic potluck for Thanksgiving.

Then he got to one that was different: January 22nd, 2012. It was written in a panicked, hurried script.

Oh, damn. Jack remembered what this was about. What happened January of 8th grade.

Dear Jack,

Something’s wrong. You’re on my couch right now, crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re trying to put on a brave face for Les and failing miserably. Medda didn’t have time to say much when she dropped you, Crutchie, Race, and Romeo off, so all I really know is that Blink is in the hospital and she’s gonna pick up Mush before going to see him. Crutchie is trying to comfort you, by the way, but he’s crying nearly as much as you are. Race and Ro are in shock, I think. They haven’t said much. Sarah’s making them hot cocoa. I’m in my room, writing this really quick because I don’t know what I can do. You’re so good at comforting people, but I don’t know how. I wish I knew how you did it. I think I’ll go try one of the things I’ve seen you do with panic attacks. It’s got to be better than nothing.

The rest was calmer, clearly written later.

It turns out Blink is in the hospital because his dad put him there. And he wouldn’t be alive at all if he didn’t call Mush in a panic right when he heard him get home. Mush called the cops and they barely got there in time. Blink was already half-dead when they did, but they managed to keep him alive long enough to get an ambulance. God, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they’d been just a little bit slower.

Medda called you a couple hours ago to let us all know that Blink is in bad shape, but he’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna try to file for custody of him, but Mush’s mom is gonna try, too, just to give him twice as much chance of staying with us. His dad is in jail, but you and me agree that he deserves to die for what he did. In the selfie Blink made Mush send the group chat, there was more bandage visible on his face than skin. It made me so damn angry, but I didn’t show it because you were so angry you almost punched a hole in my wall.

I’ve made a decision, Jack. I can’t be separate from the group anymore. I always hang with Kath off to the side where we can intervene as the voices of reason if needed, but I’m not going to do that anymore, because I. can. not. do this again. I want our friends to trust me like they trust you so maybe if one of them is in a house with a dad that would beat them within an inch of their life, they’ll tell me and I can get them out.

I guess that means I’ll have to get better at lying. I’ve been staying separate mostly to hide my crush. And I think I’m pretty good at that, but being right at the center of things, with you? I’ll have to be careful to make sure no one notices. Especially not you. I hope I can pull it off.

You definitely aren’t making it easy on me, are you? You’re passed out in my bed, for heaven’s sake. But it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.

Sincerely, Davey

Jack remembered that night as one of the worst of his life. He’d thought Blink was dead by how Mush sounded when he called. And even though it turned out he wasn’t, he was going to be okay even if he lost an eye, after Jack’s childhood, he’d always hated when he couldn’t protect the people he loved.

Davey had been the one to reach him in that bad place he fell back to, the one where people he loved, kids he considered his little brothers, were getting hurt. Davey had pulled him out of there, and though it would take Jack months to realize it, that was the day he started to fall in love with him.

The next Monday, though, Jack had tried to give him space. Knowing how intimidating it all had to seem, he wasn’t sure if Davey would bail on them.

But he didn’t. Jack had never stopped appreciating how Davey had seen the darkness under the innocent, normal friendship and stayed anyway.

The next few letters were mostly a lot of pining on Davey’s side as he struggled to integrate himself more deeply into the group.

Jack still remembered that shift, how once Davey earned the others’ trust, Jack had gone from being the only one everyone was relying on to half of a pair that a lot of their friends had jokingly called ‘mom and dad.’

It was kind of sad, knowing that for most of them, Jack and Davey gave them more love and attention than their actual parents did, but the two of them would have to do—and they had. For a long time, the two of them were an unstoppable duo of hugs and snacks and homework help.

The letter from June 15th, 2012, had weird spots on it, almost like... almost like tear-marks. It was shorter than the previous ones.

Dear Jack,

Saz just came bouncing into my room to announce that she’s going with you to the Eighth Grade Dance.

I don’t know why I’m sad about it. I knew you and me would never be a thing.

But it still hurts, Jackie. It hurts so much.

I’m going with the rest of the group, just as friends. No one has dates except you, and I think maybe Romeo.

Jack knew for a fact that Blink and Mush had gone together because he remembered accidentally walking in on their first kiss, but apparently, Davey hadn’t known that.

Les is knocking on my door, so I’m gonna have to drop my math textbook on the floor really loudly so I can tell him I’m crying because I fell.

Sincerely, Davey

There wasn’t another letter until 4 months later, Octobe 16th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

So. Something weird just happened. Saz just came into my room and said she’s not going with you to Homecoming because you’re going with Kath. I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t seem sad about it?

She asked me if I wanted to go with anyone and seemed surprised I said I didn’t. (Not like I’m telling her a part of me wishes I could go with you.) Then she mentioned that Blink and Mush are going together, and I don’t see why she cares because if you don’t have a date why not go with a friend, right? Why do girls have to be so confusing?

Sincerely, Davey

Oh. Oh, God.

By the beginning of freshman year, Blink and Mush hadn’t been the only gay couple in their friend group.

Albert and Finch had gotten together over the summer, and so had Smalls and Sniper.

Romeo and Specs were in the ‘flirting terribly’ phase, and though Jack didn’t know it at the time, Race was already sneaking around with Spot by that point.

Ike had asked Hotshot to that Homecoming, though they wouldn’t officially become boyfriends until almost a year later, Buttons and Elmer became official at that dance, and Jojo and Mike had that falling out because of misread signals towards the end of it.

Hell, Jack only went to that dance with Kath because she couldn’t let her parents know she was actually going with Saz.

Homecoming freshman year was... eventful, to say the least.

And Davey had known exactly none of this. That... explained a lot.

Being only freshmen, none of the couples were exactly casual in their relationships. They didn’t kiss in front of people, and a few were too embarrassed to so much as sit next to each other at lunch. With the ones who weren’t embarrassed, it still honestly wasn’t much more than the affection they all already showed among friends.

God, if Jack had known how scared Davey was to come out, as he said in the next few letters, he would have... what? Told him he loved him right then and there? Probably not, but he would have done something differently.

The next really significant letter was dated December 11th 12th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

I have no idea what to think.

I’m in the bathroom right now, and it’s just after midnight on 12/12/12. You and your brothers threw a party in case the world ended with the whole friend group. It was kind of like a New Year’s party, but with a lot more cynical talk about the coming apocalypse and bet placing on what said apocalypse would be. Towards the end, we all got caught up in the drama and sleep-deprivation and started giving speeches about how much we loved each other. It was cringy, but in a good way? I’m sure we’ll laugh about it someday.

Or maybe we won’t. Because I have no idea what to think anymore.

Oh, shit. This was the part Jack was kind of dreading reading.

I’ve been terrified to come out because I thought I’d get kicked out of the group if you guys knew I was gay.

Which was why it was such a shock when the countdown to midnight ended and half my friends kissed friends of the same gender.

Jack remembered yelling at them to break it up. He’d been so busy being exasperated with his kids that he hadn’t even noticed Davey had slipped away until Crutchie pointed it out.

It was quick, so I don’t think I could name all the pairs if I tried, but I definitely saw Sarah kiss Kath, which, honestly, explains a lot.

I can’t help but wonder... Why didn’t anyone tell me? How long has this been going on? Has it been since the beginning and I was just too oblivious to see it?

Oh my God. Now that I’m looking for it, I can’t stop seeing it. The way Blink is defensive and angry all the time and he’s soft for Mush. The way Sarah hates spending time on her hair and she’ll sit for hours letting Kath try out styles on her. The way Buttons and Elmer just do little things for each other every day. None of them are subtle and I am an idiot.

Jack had to laugh at that.

Does this mean I should come out, too? I know now no one would judge me for it, but... I don’t want to mess things up. I love our friends, and I don’t want to lose them. If I lost them, now, it would be because I like you, specifically. Would you be disgusted with me if I told you?

“No,” Jack whispered, before remembering that this was 14-year-old Davey, and he wasn’t here.

I like to think you wouldn’t be, but I can’t risk it. If I lose you, I lose all of them. And if I have doubts about if I could live through losing you, I definitely can’t survive losing everyone. I love them all so much. I love you.

Jack sucked in a breath. As far as he knew, this was the first time Davey had ever said anywhere that he loved Jack.

But I can’t tell you that. So if I come out, it definitely won’t be by saying who I like.

Love, Davey

Jack totally wasn’t crying as he reached for the next letter. It was just current events, random stuff. There were certainly a lot of letters, weren’t there? Davey had documented everything, from Jack attempting to teach him to draw, to the time they both auditioned for the school play, to that time they had to talk Jojo off a ledge when he realized he loved Mike. That one was short but bad. (Honestly, Jack still hated Jojo’s super religious parents for that. Fuck Jojo’s parents.)

Davey did come out in a letter from almost six months later, but it wasn’t until Homecoming sophomore year that things started getting really interesting.

Dear Jack,

I honestly might never talk to you again outside these letters. Sarah’s banging on my door telling me to, and I’m quoting her here, “open the fuck up, David Jacobs.” Mom’s yelling back at her to watch her language. They’re now having a screamed bitching match in the hallway.

Long story short, we were at Homecoming and you asked me to dance. My brain kind of short-circuited, but I said yes right as a slow song came on. Shockingly, you didn’t seem to mind, and you danced with me to Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Oh, God, Jack remembered that song. It had been their song. He still couldn’t listen to it anymore.

You were singing along to it and smiling at me. It was really sweet, and it was kind of my dream, to be honest, and I guess I lost all control of my body for a second because I kissed you during the last chorus and I didn’t stop kissing you until the end of the song.

Jack remembered that like it was yesterday, because it was their first kiss. It was a million perfect colors exploding across Jack’s brain and feelings he could barely identify swirling into a moment more beautiful than any painting he could ever create.

Then a faster song came on and I don’t know if anyone saw, but I really hope they didn’t because if they did that means they saw what happened next. Which is: I ran away. I ran all the way to my car and drove home and locked myself in my room. Sarah came home not 5 minutes later, so I think she knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I can face you after this. In hindsight I think you were kissing me back, and if you were that means I just ran out on you and it probably hurt when I did. If not, that’s even worse because I kissed you and you probably just didn’t pull away out of pity.

Holy shit, I think you’re here, now. I can hear you outside my door with Saz, and maybe Kath, too. She’s trying to calm her down, which, honestly, good luck, Kath. Wait. No. Shit. I guess being her girlfriend has its benefits. It’s just you, now. You’re talking really softly, but I can’t understand you through the door. This is why we enunciate, Jackie.

Jack rolled his eyes on reflex.

I’m still pretty scared, but I think I’m gonna open the door. Scratch that, I’m definitely gonna open it. If you yell at me, I’ll probably yell right back. Funny, isn’t it? How I never would have done that before meeting you? If we have a huge fight, remember that you’re the one who taught me not to censor myself. David never would have even opened that door, but Davey is your monster. Good luck. I’ve out-argued you before, Jackie, so you’ll need it.

I should stop stalling and open the damn door.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Love, Davey

Reading that last sentance, Jack froze.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Time was a bitch, because by all accounts, they were both broken-hearted, now.

Jack wiped away his tears and realized there was a little bit more writing.

P.S. I guess you get to live, Jackie, because we had a talk and you kissed me again and now we’re together. Like, boyfriends. I can’t stop smiling. It’s stupid. I’m probably not going to sleep tonight and it’s all your fault because my stomach is full of butterflies and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you.

Jack didn’t let himself process that, going for the next letter instead.

Oh, shit. November 1st, 2013. This was going to be a bad one. Still, Jack took a deep breath and started reading.

Dear Jack,

Well, today was emotionally draining. (Halloween was fun, but what came after definitely is not.) It’s already past midnight, but it’s okay because I’m sleeping over at your house tonight. After Saz and I explained the situation, Mom and Dad agreed we should. God, said situation it makes me so angry.

Katherine’s parents kicked her out. They found out about her and Sarah, made her pack a bag, and tossed her away like she was nothing.

She’s 16. She’s a goddamn child like the rest of us. How could they do that to her? I guess it’s good she’s out of that environment, where she has to hide who she is and walk on eggshells with every conversation, but she’s on your couch right now, crying so hard she can’t even drink the tea Medda made her. Sarah and you are trying to calm her down, but I hate seeing her like this. Kath always seems kind of unshakable, like nothing anyone says will get to her. I’ve never seen her this broken. Judging by the look you’re giving me from across the room, you haven’t, either.

You think I’m making a grocery list. Medda told me to, seeing as how she’s busy helping clean out your guest room, Saz is on ‘shoulder to cry on’ duty, and I’m the only boy who lives with a girl. Kath didn’t get to pack much more than a couple of outfits and her toothbrush.

You know what? Fuck it. You and me are her parents, now. You’re good with that, right? We’re already stand-in Mom and Dad for several of our friends—what’s one more? Ha ha, you and me have so much practice already that we are going to be great parents for real one day.

Jack sucked in a breath. Real parents? As in, the two of them staying together long enough to have kids?

Wow. That is wildly inappropriate to think about when we’re literally a couple of 15-year-olds. Also, it makes me think about how Kath is technically a few months older, but whatever. I guess I should actually make that grocery list, now, and stop daydreaming about a hypothetical future while one of our kids now is sobbing across the room from me.

Love, Davey

Davey had never even told Jack he wanted kids.

Sure, they were both a little young for that, but in the future..? Jack had always been scared that he wouldn’t be a good dad, after never having a good dad, himself, but sophomore year Davey was right. He had gotten a fair amount of practice with his friends.

That night, when Kath showed up at the Larkin house, crying so hysterically the makeup from her Halloween costume was running and saying she didn’t know where else to go, Davey was the first person Jack called. Him and Sarah had shown up not fifteen minutes later, probably having been lucky not to pick up a speeding ticket (or you know, gotten arrested for underage driving without an adult) on the way.

15-year-old Davey was right. That night was the most broken Jack had ever seen Katherine. Even if it had worked out okay in the end, with Kath staying with them and being their new sister in every way but on paper, Jack still kind of wanted to throat-punch her parents.

It was... oddly comforting, to know that Davey felt the same. He hadn’t shown it back then, knowing Kath needed him calm, but... to be honest, Jack would have feared an angry Davey Jacobs more than an angry Jack Kelly. You’d get punched by an angry Jack, but an angry Davey? He was smart enough to burn down your world. Jack smirked, thinking about how lucky the Pulitzers were that Davey possessed impulse control.

Most of the rest of the letters were just Davey talking about their relationship as it evolved or recounting whatever drama happened to be going on, (with one in the middle of junior year that was basically just ‘wtf Race is secretly dating Spot Conlon???’) because as the only group of out gays in the school, a few of whom happened to be in not-so-good homes, there was always drama.

Then came the stress of senior year, SATs, and college applications. Davey and Jack had a few fights, which were all well documented here. 17-year-old Jack and Davey hadn’t known that those fights were the beginning of the end.

The letter dated June 5th, 2016 was the one that finally made Jack cry for real .

Dear Jack,

We’re fighting again. We have before, but this time, it’s actually serious.

I get that you’re going to school in Santa Fe and I’m staying in New York. What—did you expect me to follow you all the way across the country? I’m not asking you to stay, because that wouldn’t be fair of me. You’ve got dreams and a scholarship to an art school and that is great. I’m happy for you. But I’m not going with you, because why would I? I’ve got dreams, too. Did you think I would put my life on hold for you?

We can’t stay kids forever, Jackie. Growing up means things change. I thought you knew that. Our friends are spreading out across the country and most of the couples aren’t going to be in the same state. Hell, Specs is going to Harvard in Massachusetts and Romeo is moving to Hollywood to go try his luck and they’re not having problems. If your own brother can do the long-distance thing, why can’t you?

I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either. I know doing a long-distance thing won’t be easy, but when was the last time either of us gave up just because it was hard? Jackie, if I wanted something easy, I would have bailed after we almost lost Blink. My love for you aside, I didn’t because that’s. not. me. I fight for what I love. And I know you do, too, so... so fight for me. I need to know you love me enough to fight for me, Jackie.

I know you. When you want something—really want it, there is not a force in this world that can stop you from fighting for it. I love you, Jack Kelly. I’m not going to stop fighting for you, so please don’t stop fighting for me.

Love, Davey

Jack choked on a sob. He’d failed. Davey had asked him to fight for him and he failed.

Sure, he hadn’t known that Davey wanted him to fight for him, but... God, if he had...

Jack would have fought, would have walked through hell, would have done anything to keep Davey by his side.

He still loved Davey, no matter what he’d been telling himself since the breakup, and... And he needed to read the rest of these letters. Even if Davey started hating him when the fighting got really bad or wrote about what he was feeling during it.

Shit. There weren’t that many more. The remaining letters were spread out somewhere between high school graduation and when Jack and Davey broke up; a year and a half ago, and... and those would probably be the hardest ones to read

Jack waited a bit until the tears had stopped before opening the one from November 20th, 2016.

Dear Jack,

I haven’t wrote one of these in a while. College has been a bitch, but also...

You and me barely talk anymore. We text each other memes about once a week, (don’t worry. you still know exactly how to make me laugh with those dumb little shitposts.) but we don’t really talk. I can’t remember the last time we FaceTimed. I miss you, but I don’t know how to say it anymore.

I’m thinking about this because it’s Thanksgiving break. Of course, it’s good to see everyone. Kath got home this morning. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her. Elmer texted me a couple minutes ago that he’s an hour away. Of course that dumbass is driving all the way from Michigan. I’m sure we’ll both have more than enough words for him when you get back because you’re flying in tonight.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I should be excited, but... I don’t think I’ve been this nervous about anything involving you since I ran away after our first kiss. I think I preferred it last year, when we were fighting, because even when we were pissed at each other, at least we were communicating.

You remember when we were kids and you always knew exactly what to say exactly when someone needed to hear it? How you helped calm down Kath when she got kicked out, talked Jojo off a roof, and convinced Spot to tell Race he loved him? It was amazing. I never quite mastered that. I usually know what to do, just never how to voice it. But this time, I don’t even know what to do. We’re not on the same page anymore. I don’t think we’re even in the same book.

Jack took a shaky breath. He and Davey hadn’t been on the same page. And Jack definitely hadn’t known what to say to him, either. They weren’t the unstoppable duo they’d been in high school.

But... damn. Those things Davey had mentioned him doing? He couldn’t have done those alone. For all of those, he had needed Davey there, helping him. Maybe that was why it was so hard, being there for anyone since the breakup.

I hate how five years of being an unstoppable duo can be undone in only four months, and it wasn’t even by fighting. If it was a fight, we could solve it, you and me vs. the problem. But there’s no fight, no problem. It’s just you and me and the growing chasm between us.

You know what? It’s probably just the distance messing with us. We’ll be fine. We just need some time together. Thanksgiving will be good for us. And I’m flying out to Santa Fe for the winter holidays to spend it with you, so that’ll be good, too.

I’m gonna text you right now. Your flight probably won’t be leaving for another hour or so, so we can talk. Get back in rhythm.

I still don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll just ask about how hot Santa Fe is in winter and we can go from there. Here’s hoping this makes things get less awkward.

Love, Davey

Jack remembered that text conversation with Davey in the airport. He remembered how much hope it had given him, and how after Jack went back to Santa Fe when the holiday was over, how much better Davey and him had been. That Christmas/Hanukkah had been great, especially considering most of Jack’s classmates were at home and they’d had the dorm to themselves.

Of course their friends and families had known that was why Jack didn’t come home that year, and he distinctly remembered getting texts from all three of his brothers on Christmas morning asking if Davey was good in bed, but that was besides the point.

The next several letters were from their second wind, the rest of the school year. And yeah, they were hard to read, but they brought back happy memories. Even only seeing each other over breaks and computer screens, it seemed that Davey was happy, too. For a while, it had seemed that Jack could have his dreams of art school in Santa Fe and the love of his life.

Then, of course, during that summer of staying together at whichever house more often than not, they started fighting again. Over nothing. Over stupid things. Over who loaded the dishwasher wrong and who said he was going to pick Les up from his friend’s house.

Then they started fighting over big things. Over harsh words Jack never meant and judging by these letters, Davey didn’t meant, either.

August 2nd, 2017:

Dear Jack,

I fucked up. We just had a big fight, I said a bunch of things I didn’t mean, and like an idiot, I let you leave for the airport without apologizing. Now, you’re acting like your phone is already on airplane mode even though I know for a fact your flight doesn’t leave for another hour. Also, I can see that you’ve read all of my texts, you moron, so I know you’re just ignoring me.

Aw, hell, I don’t even blame you. I said some really bad things. I said you love your art more than me, and I know that’s not true. I know you’d never prioritize material things over the people you love, because Jackie, you prioritize those people who have earned your loyalty over everything, including your own mental and physical health. I know because it annoys the hell out of me, how you never give yourself a break. They’re all adults now, Jackie. They don’t need us as much anymore and you never stop acting like they do.

I shouldn’t be angry with you for that. I know with your childhood, trying to protect Crutchie, Race, and Romeo and sometimes failing, you still feel like you have to save everyone. It’s how you’re wired and I love that about you. I wouldn’t change it if I could. I just wish you’d stop running yourself into the ground to do it.

Is this it? I already feel like we’re on borrowed time, here. Sarah says she thought we were going to break up last year. Kath says she’s sure it’s not that bad. (they’re talking about it very loudly in the hallway. or maybe they’re arguing. who knows?) Les just said that my mom said nobody marries their high school sweetheart. (thanks, Mom.)

I think even if we never said it, that’s what we were both hoping for. I know you, Jackie. I’ve watched your favorite romcoms and Disney movies. I know you want the perfect fairytale relationship with the whole package of ‘and they get married and have kids and live happily ever after.’ And I want that, too. I really wanted it with you. Ugh! I still want it with you! I can’t imagine any alternate universe where I don’t want that with you!

It’s probably inappropriate to think about all that. We’re nineteen. We’re not even old enough to drink yet and we’re definitely too young for me to be thinking about marrying you.

Jack inhaled sharply. Oh, God. He was going to cry again.

But for the record... I do want to. I want everything with you and I cannot imagine any circumstance, any extreme, any bad breakup where I stop wanting that.

Just to be safe, though, in case something I can’t foresee happens and I never say it again...

I love you, Jack Kelly. I have loved you from the first day I met you and I can’t see anything happening in any version of reality that makes me stop loving you. You’re still like the living personification of the moon to me and no matter how much you piss me off, Jackie, your glow doesn’t fade. You shined a light on the parts of me afraid of judgement and taught me to shine, too, despite them.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I probably never will. I just need you to know that.

Love, Davey

Jack was already crying, but he panicked as he realized there was only two more letters.

A part of him wanted to wait. These were words Davey hadn’t spoken to him. These were the last pieces of Davey that were still Jack’s.

But he needed to know. Were these letters from before they actually broke up? After? Had Davey been wrong in the previous letter and he’d stoped loving Jack?

There were no dates on the envelopes. Still, Jack had to know. He took a deep breath and opened the second-to-last one, the paper covered in old, dried tear marks.

Dear Jack,

We had another stupid fight and we tried to fix it but that just ended in more yelling. That’s happened a few times before, now, but this time, it was different.

Oh, no. This must be from the big one Spring Break of their sophomore year of college.

Jack had come home for the break, it had been great to see his friends, but then he and Davey had started fighting. Like, really fighting. Worse than they ever had before.

And then there was the big one. It was two days before Jack flew back to Santa Fe. It was the one where they actually broke up.

This time, you told me to leave. And I kind of yelled at you to just go back to Santa Fe as you shoved me out the door. Then you yelled that if I wanted you to fly away so badly, I shouldn’t bother visiting again and you slammed the door in my face.

I think we just broke up. I’d be angry about it if I wasn’t so damn sad.

God, this is messed up. I know you’re alone on your bed with those stupid Star Wars sheets you’ve had since you were twelve and you locked the door because you don’t want anyone to see you cry. Thinking about that makes me want to run right back there and say I’m sorry.

I wanted to do that the second I got back to my parents’ house, but they convinced me not to. Sarah yelled at them for it. She said I had to make my own decision. They said I’m too emotional to think clearly. They’re right, of course, which is why I’m here writing this and not on my way back to your mom’s house already.

Now, Les is the only one outside my door. Are Crutchie, Race, Romeo, or Kath outside yours? Les is trying to guilt me into opening the door by telling me he cancelled a date for me. I’m not weirded out at all by the fact that my baby brother has way more game than I did when I was fourteen.

Are we really done, Jackie? For good? I keep waiting to hear you out in the hallway. And probably Kath, because she’s a better driver than you. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’m just gonna to go to sleep.

Davey

Jack wiped his eyes furiously. There was one more letter and he needed to read it, consequences be damned.

This last letter was probably from when Davey cooled down. Maybe the next morning or something. If he didn’t hate Jack while he was emotional and raw from the initial breakup, he might in this letter. But Jack opened it, anyway.

My Dearest Jack,

We really are broken up. You haven’t called me, but I got a very angry text-rant from Crutchie (for which he apologized 10 minutes later) which basically boiled down to him saying I broke your heart. Romeo called me, said ‘dude, not cool,’ then hung up. Race and Medda seem to be trying to see both sides, and though Kath did tell me that the last few months have been like ‘listening to mom and dad fight downstairs,’ she’s not offering any advice. I think she and Sarah are waiting for me to come to them.

I’m so sorry, Jackie. I know this is mostly my fault. Still, I can’t make the first move. Don’t forget: I know you. You’re more concerned with other people’s feelings than yours, so if I ask you to take me back and you do it, I can’t be sure you didn’t just do it for me. If we ever get back together, it has to be because you want it, too. However, I know you won’t even consider we could get back together unless I give you a sign, which is why I’m leaving you my letters.

You went back to Santa Fe two weeks ago and I’m finally stable enough to come get my stuff from your house and drop off what little you left in my room. While I’m there, I’m gonna hide this somewhere. I guess we’ll both have to pray no one else in your family finds it. That would be awkward.

When you find this, I want you to think long and hard about what you want, Jackie. I want you to make a decision for you. Goddammit, think about yourself first for once.

If you fight for me, I want you to do it because it’s what you really want. That fairytale romcom ending with me is still yours if you play your cards right. (Don’t think I forgot all the hurtful things you said to me, even if I’m 70% sure you didn’t mean them.) It might take... I dunno, therapy or something, but I still think we can fix this. It won’t be easy, but neither is love. Neither is our entire messed-up, broken group of friends.

I used to think I’d lose all of them if I lost you. Maybe I would have, if I’d messed up like this in 8th grade. But now, I know I won’t, because they’re all blowing up my phone as much as I’m sure they’re blowing up yours, asking if I’m okay. I see now that they need me as much as I need them. And they still need you, too, even if you do need to accept a little more that we’re all grown-ups now.

Where was I going with this? I had a point.

I guess all there’s left to say is that if you still want that perfect ending with me—getting married and having kids and having them call all our friends ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’—fight for it. Loving someone the way I’m in love with you doesn’t happen twice, so I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.

You probably won’t find this for a while. Hell, you’re not even coming home again until summer break. But that’s probably a good thing. It gives us both some time to cool off and think.

So think, Jackie. Think long and hard and make a choice. Fight for me or don’t. In case I never get a chance to say it in person again...

I love you, Jack Kelly.

Love, Davey

Oh shit.

Davey left this in Jack’s closet a year and a half ago. He’d probably expected Jack to find it that summer. In fact, he probably thought Jack had found it and just decided not to fight for him.

Jack still wanted to fight for him. He had no doubts about that.

But did his have to discover this box now? When he was leaving for Santa Fe to finish his senior year tomorrow?

Fuck it. Even if it had been almost two years, even if there was a high chance Davey wasn’t waiting for him anymore, he still had to do this

Driving to the Jacobs house right then and there was probably the stupidest thing Jack had ever done, and that was including riding that Walmart shopping cart Albert stole down a hill in 8th grade with Race, Romeo, and Albert when Davey, Kath, and Specs weren’t there to stop them.

Sarah was the one who opened the door, and she... Jack hadn’t talked to Saz since the breakup, since she’d been staying mad at him out of solidarity. Honestly, he was now realizing that he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Davey. They’d been good friends, once upon a time.

Now, she glared at him, “The fuck are you doing here, Kelly?”

“I...” Jack honestly couldn’t think of a good way to explain this, “Is he home?”

Sarah snorted, “What? After a year and a half, you’ve finally come to your senses and realized you’ll never find another one like my brother?”

“I never planned on anyone like him in the first place,” Jack snapped, “Davey was always... even back in middle school... You think I’d ever believe I could find someone else like that? I’m dumb, Saz, but I ain’t stupid. I always knew I was givin’ up on forever when I didn’t try to get him back, but... but I thought he didn’t want me anymore.”

Sarah froze, then leaned against the doorframe, laughing kind of hopelessly, “You are stupid, Jack Kelly, if you think my brother wasn’t totally gone for you and totally broken-hearted when you didn’t try to fight for him.”

Jack definitely had an oh shit moment, “Wait, do you know? About the..?”

“The box of letters he left you? Yeah. He told me last year, after you left for junior year without coming for him.”

Jack took the last letter out of his pocket, “I just found it.”

Saz took a second to process that before motioning for Jack to come in, shouting up the stairs, “Davey! Get your butt down here!”

Les, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from his sandwich, “Holy shit. Jack?”

“Hi, kid,” Jack said, trying not to be weirded out by how the now-16-year-old was taller than him.

“Davey?” Sarah yelled again, clearly impatient.

“Alright, alright! God, Saz, what couldn’t wait 10 se—“ That was when Davey looked up, seeing Jack in his kitchen.

“That couldn’t wait,” Sarah said pointedly, “Les, let’s go... not be here.”

“If I eat in my room, Mom’ll kill me,” Les said, picking up his sandwich, anyway.

“Eat in my room, then.”

Jack and Davey were silent until the other two Jacobs siblings were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

Jack had to take a deep breath before he responded, “When was the last time you went somewhere besides school if somebody didn’t drag you out of the house?”

“What?”

“Do the people who love you say you’ve changed? Do they keep saying they need a designated driver only to try to get you drinking and dancing like it’ll make you smile?”

“What are you—“

“Are there songs you can’t listen to? Movies you can’t watch? Have you so much as called someone back when they gave you their number?”

“Jack,” Davey looked at the ceiling, “What’s this about?”

“You once said you wouldn’t put your life on hold for me,” Jack said, “And you were right not to. I can be overprotective, sometimes. No one should put their dreams on hold because of a lover, but... my dreams are the only thing I haven’t put on hold, Dave. I ain’t been living since I lost you. Not really. And when our friends all said I was smilin’ less, I never let myself think about it, because if I did, I’d have to think about how much I was still hurtin’ over you.”

Davey laughed sady, “Jack, if you really wanted me, you would have fought for me a long time ago, so—“

“You’re talkin’ about the letters?” Jack asked, holding up the one he had on him, “Davey... I just found them. Today.”

Davey was silent, his face completely unreadable. Jack was holding his breath.

“Jack Kelly,” he finally smiled, “I should have known you would take this long to clean out your damn closet.”

“I think you spent enough time in the closet for the both of us.” Jack joked.

Davey rolled his eyes, “Very funny, Jackie. Anyway... I don’t think it’s any secret that we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“Of course not.”

“So... coffee? If we’re trying again, I’d prefer to take things slow.”

Jack nodded, “Probably a good thing I’m going back to Santa Fe after tomorrow. That ain’t enough time for us to do something we’ll regret.”

“Yeah, I guess mostly just texting is one way to take it slow... speaking of which, one of us should probably text the group chat.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack grinned, “They’re gonna freak.”

#newsies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack and davey are the mom and dad friends #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #background newsbians #background blush #background spromeo #background belmerttons #slight angst #violet’s writing

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kmomof4 · 4 years

Text

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates Ch. 4 Escape and Capture

Annnnnnnd we’re back, y'all!!! Okay, I’ve got good news and bad news. So we’ll do the bad news first. This chapter is gonna hurt. Sorry, not sorry. It really is necessary. I promise. Please don’t yell at me too hard. And now for the good news! It’s the last overall chapter that hurts! There will still be painful stuff to read, but the chapters will be happy after this one! How about that? Can you hang with me through one more? Please? Thank you all so much for all the love you’ve shown this fic!!! I cannot BEGIN to tell you how much it means!!!

@profdanglaisstuff deserves all the love and good things the world has to offer for her outstanding beta services and for holding my hand, bailing me out, and listening to me whine during the writing of this thing. @hollyethecurious deserves the same because as one of my dearest friends she got the lions share of the whining for MONTHS on end. To the ladies of the CSSNS and CSMM discords, I would have given up without y’all’s encouragement, plus y'all helped with selecting a title. And finally, to @spartanguard who has brought me to tears every week with her GORGEOUS artwork to accompany this fic! Thank you, ladies, from the bottom of my heart!!!

Chapter Summary: An unpleasant surprise at Versailles puts Killian's well laid plans in jeopardy.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 4.2K of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

Rumplestiltskin arrived in Versailles at the height of summer. Magic disguised his true form from the eyes of the aristocracy that gathered this night in a garish display of pomp and splendor. His eyes scanned the ballroom before him before they landed on his quarry. The tall, raven haired vampire’s eyes met his own from his place on the ballroom floor.

The sire connection he shared with Killian was something that he could tap in to at any time to find his progeny and make his life miserable. It had been several decades since he had last sought out his offspring, and he felt it was time to up the stakes of their encounters. In the past, unleashing disease near his location, or even on his ship, or sending magical storms for him to battle had been his favorite tactics with which to bedevil him. By no means however, were they they only tactics he employed. But now, he sought his person. He desired to ascertain exactly how he was living, how he was making his living, what kind of social standing he had, who, if anyone, he cared about, enabling him to swoop in and take it all away.

Blue eyes flashed red with surprise when they met his own dark irises. He couldn’t help the delighted grin that broke from his thin lips as their gazes broke momentarily when Killian turned on the dancefloor. Eyes locking again, images paraded themselves across his mind, images that he didn’t recognize right away. Images of a chateau within a green valley, a family gathered for a meal with his progeny among them, a blonde haired child running through tall grass.

A manic giggle bubbled up as he realized exactly what was happening. Eye contact between them opened the corridors of their minds. This was the first time since he had created the much younger vampire that they had been in each other's physical presence, so this was the first time that this had ever occurred. In the brief moments that their eyes held, he saw everything that he needed to know about the life that his offspring now led. He saw the people that were important to him. Including the young woman that he now danced with. Perhaps she would be suitable for his next victim, he mused as he continued to scan the room until his gaze landed on the other woman from the visions he was privy to.

She also watched his quarry as he twirled his partner around the floor that gleamed and glowed with the light of what must be a thousand candles. Her eyes shone with undisguised joy as the young couple danced before she leaned toward one of the other women in the small circle that surrounded her talking and gesticulating animatedly.

The music swelled toward the climax, drawing his attention back toward the couple on the dance floor. His eyes narrowed just as Killian briefly turned his way again, but avoided looking directly at him before he could capture and hold his gaze, trying to delve even deeper into the mind of his greatest triumph. He decided at that point to make his way over to the other woman. If, as he suspected, she was anyone of importance to Killian, that would only be advantageous to his cruel designs.

He straightened himself up to his full height and strolled, twirling his cane ahead of him, toward the group of women he had spied earlier. The eyes of his target landed on him and a light blush spread on her cheeks. He knew that in terms of good looks, he didn’t hold a candle to someone like Killian, but he wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. His attire and bearing, along with a little magic, combined to give him an air of refinement and mystery. A combination that he was sure she’d find hard to resist. And if she did resist, he could always use his powers of compulsion on her. He smirked as her companions melted away as he made his way to her side.

“Rumple von Stiltskin,” he began, bowing over her raised hand and brushing his lips along her gloved knuckles, “Your servant, Madame.”

“Monsieur, welcome to Versailles.” She smiled demurely at him. “I am Vicomtesse Desmoulins.”

“Ahhh, forgive me,” he replied, with a small bow, “May I have this dance, Vicomtesse?”

“Of course,” she replied, placing her hand in his own as the music began again. He led her out to the floor as he saw his true target escort his lady off of the floor and away from him. Rumplestiltskin’s jaw clenched and his vision went red in fury briefly before he was able to bring himself back under control, just as his partner turned toward him and curtseyed. He bowed before drawing her into his arms.

~*~*~

“You are a wonderful dancer, Monsieur.” Rumple spun the woman in his arms with a smile.

“Thank you, Madame,” he replied, drawing her close again.

Her gaze became sultry. “Oh please, Monsieur,” she cooed, “Call me Cora.”

“Then you must call me Rumple.” He could feel every part of her lined up with him. He couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t mind taking her to bed. “Tell me about yourself, Cora. I saw you watching a young couple earlier. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the beauty of your smile as they danced.”

Her seductive gaze turned soft. “My daughter and her suitor. He’s been a guest of my family since before we arrived.”

“I see,” he murmured. “They are a handsome couple.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “He is the Prince d’Épinoy, and a sea captain. His name is Killian and he’s been courting my Regina since he arrived in our home about four months ago. I’m hopeful that he’ll be approaching my husband soon seeking her hand. Of course, we’d be delighted to grant our blessing to the match. My daughter as the Princesse d’Epinoy? It is all that I’ve ever dreamed for her!”

“Well, I certainly hope that it comes to pass as you wish.” The wheels in his head were already turning. Regina would do quite nicely as his next target, just as he had suspected. And through that connection, further harass his offspring. He caught the eye of his progeny for just a split second as he and Regina returned to the ballroom floor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long enough to delve any more deeply into Killian’s mind than what he already had.

He watched them surreptitiously as the evening continued. Killian was obviously aware of what had happened earlier, and so was diligent in avoiding eye contact with his sire. So diligent, in fact, that Rumple couldn’t help but wonder if there was something even more important that his progeny was trying to keep hidden from his sight.

He couldn’t disguise his delight at the obvious agitation emanating from Killian. The tension in his bearing was extremely satisfying to witness, as well as the clenching of his jaw whenever he caught Rumple looking in their direction. His and his lady’s breaks from the dance floor were also more frequent and lasted longer as the evening continued.

The last time Killian and Regina left the floor, Rumple maneuvered Cora in their direction, hoping to overhear some of their conversation.

“Perceptive, darling,” Killian murmured. “Yes, keep away from him.” He shot a look in his direction filled with warning, presumably borne out of protectiveness that almost made Rumple giggle in delight. “I don’t know what he wants with your mother, but given the way she’s been looking at him all night, I believe she is thoroughly smitten. We must be on our guard and protect ourselves from his influence. It is probably too late for your mother.”

“Is there anything we can do to avoid that? Anything we can do to help her?”

“Be aware,” he continued. “I’ve had many dealings with him over the years, and simply being aware of what he can do and the tactics he uses is the best defense against him. For her, I doubt it.” Hearing that little tidbit was enough to fill him with a keen satisfaction that he didn’t bother to try and hide as he continued to dance with the Vicomtesse. He may not be able to seduce Regina now that she’d been adequately warned against him coupled with Killian’s proximity, but he could still use his proximity to Cora to torment his offspring, both here at Versailles and back at their home when they inevitably returned to plan a wedding in the coming months.

And that, he thought, is when I’ll make his entire world crash around him. Again.

~*~*~

Rumple rolled off Cora, sweaty, sated, and licking her blood from his lips before turning back toward her. He knew that she had something to tell him. She was nearly trembling with excitement when she arrived in his chamber. Before she had had a chance to tell him, however, their passion got the better of them.

Gathering her in his arms again and placing a gentle opened mouth kiss on her pulse point sealing the wound there, he murmured, “What is it, my love? I know that something has happened. You are nearly vibrating out of your skin. And not only from my attentions.”

A low moan escaped her as she let her head fall to the side, granting him better access as he continued kissing along her jaw. “Yes, Rumple,” she breathed, “You know me so well. Killian has finally approached Henry and asked for Regina’s hand. We leave for home tomorrow.”

She pushed him away and looked him in the eye. “Come with us. I can’t live without you, Rumple.”

Rumple leaned back in placing another kiss on her pulse point. “Of course I will, Cora. Anything I can do to make this time easier for you, be sure that I will.”

“The wedding will take place at Noël.” Her eyes filled with tears with a rough inhale.

He gathered her closer before speaking. “What’s wrong, my darling. You should be happy.”

“Oh, I am!” she exclaimed. “I just can’t believe how blessed I am.” A barking sob escaped her. “My daughter is to be married,” she looked up at him, desire simmering in her eyes, “I have you. What else could I ask for?”

Rumple let his desire for her fill his eyes as he felt his member stir and he settled himself between her legs again. “Nothing, my dear. Absolutely nothing.”

~*~*~

The wedding date was drawing near. The family along with Killian and Rumple had been back at the Chateau Havre-de-brume for about a month when the news that Killian and Regina were anxiously awaiting finally arrived.

They were all seated at dinner when his groomsman, formerly his First Mate on board ship, William Smee, whispered in his ear that an urgent message had arrived for him. He replied and returned to the meal and company before him. At the conclusion of the meal, he rose from the table, holding out his hand for Regina to accompany him. He couldn’t help but notice the wide smile on the face of his hostess and the evil smirk he perceived on the downcast profile of his sire as they left the formal dining room.

He hurried her along the hall toward the doors to the gardens. Once they were outside and beyond the hearing of anyone within, he gave a sharp whistle and Smee emerged from the shadows.

“Thank you, Smee,” he said, taking the folded sheet of paper his first mate held out to him. “Stay close for a few moments, please.”

The man bowed. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, before withdrawing slightly.

Killian’s eyes scanned over the missive, before he raised his face to look at his companion. “Everything is in readiness.” Regina forcefully released the breath she’d been holding as he read.

She placed her hand on her chest and her eyes fell shut at his news. Killian released a small chuckle. “Smee,” he motioned the other man over, “find the stable master and inform him to be ready at midnight on the morrow. We’re getting away from here.” Smee gave a sharp little bow and scurried away into the night.

“Killian,” she breathed, “I have no words adequate…” she trailed away. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart!” Breaking all decorum, she threw herself into his arms. Killian stumbled back with a small chuckle at her exuberance.

“You are quite welcome, milady,” he replied, releasing her with a small smile. “It does my heart good to have a hand, however small, in someone else's happiness.” His eyes softened as he gazed on the glowing countenance of the woman before him. “Now, as far as the journey is concerned, take with you only what you need for the road. It will take three days hard riding to get to Marseille where my ship is docked. You will need to travel light. We need to get a good head start on your mother. Once she discovers that you’ve gone, she will spare no expense to find you and bring you home.”

“My home is wherever Daniel is,” she interrupted.

He smiled gently at her. “Of course,” he agreed. “Once we’re away from here, we’ll travel along the smuggling lines I use as a pirate captain to get goods sold and delivered on the black market.” Regina’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as he made his revelations. He raised his eyebrow at her. “Part of the dark things I’ve done that could prove advantageous to someone in your situation,” he reminded her, pointedly. Regina’s cheeks flushed red as she looked at the ground.

“Our first stop will be with a, ahh, friend of mine. Her name is Ariel.” Regina couldn’t hide her smirk. “Don’t look at me like that.” He smirked right back at her. “She was once a part of my crew. Until she fell in love with a captured sailor we had on board. She and her husband are now a part of the underground network that I use for smuggling.”

“From there, I’ll send a missive back to the chateau expressing my heartbreak at your betrayal by running away with the stable master. Along with my speculation that you could be trying to escape to Wurtemburg, across the Rhine. That will send her in the opposite direction from where we are traveling and unless she has some kind of connection in England, it wouldn’t occur to her to search for you there. You will be free.”

“We can only hope,” she murmured. “And you can marry us, once we’re out to sea?”

“As Captain of the Jolly Roger, I can indeed, milady,” he assured her, bowing over her hand that he’d taken in his own while he spoke. “And now, it is time for us both to retire. We have much to prepare for our journey.”

“Of course,” she murmured, taking his arm. He led her back inside the chateau and along the corridors until they arrived at her chambers.

“Until tomorrow, Regina.” He bowed low, kissing her hand, before taking his leave as she entered her room.

Walking along the deserted hallways to his own chamber, his mind ran over exactly what the coming days and weeks would hold for him. Getting Regina and Daniel out of France would present no problem. The underground network he spoke of was well tended and quite healthy. They would have access to adequate provisions and be able to rest sufficiently as they made the journey. Once they arrived at the Jolly, it would only take about a week to get to England. A bag of gold and putting them in touch with his contacts in Portsmouth would be more than enough for the young couple to establish a new life for themselves far from Cora and the machinations of Rumplestiltskin. The thought that he had a hand in helping the young people start a better life, a happier life, together lifted the cloak of self-loathing that he still wore, even after all these years. It was another step in the right direction, toward the more honorable life he wanted to live now that he’d found his golden haired Swan. Hopefully, getting Regina out of Rumplestiltskin’s reach and keeping his own distance from the family until Emma had the chance to grow up, would draw the monster away from them and ensure her safety. He would return in a few years to hopefully court and marry Emma. He uttered a quiet prayer for his golden haired Swan and the rest of her family as he crawled into bed.

~*~*~

Paris, January 1794

Killian awoke in the filth of his prison cell within the Bastille with more hope than he had had in a long time. He had arrived back in France last fall and had been arrested for piracy before he ever got to the Chateau Havre-de-brume to ascertain the well being of Emma and her family in the midst of the Reign of Terror.

He had maintained a correspondence with the Vicomtesse over the years ever since that first letter he sent when Regina and Daniel had escaped. Once he had gotten them to safety, he had traveled to the Americas and the Caribbean making even more of a fortune smuggling than he already had. It was through those letters that he knew not only of her heartbreak at Regina’s disappearance and betrayal plus Rumplestilstkin’s desertion, but also the rising danger to the nobility of France. His plan to draw his sire away from the family had obviously been successful. But as the peril mounted over the last few years, and he saw no sign of the monster in any of his travels, he began to suspect that Rumplestiltskin himself was behind the rising threat. He would not be at all surprised if he was the one behind the wholesale slaughter of the nobility for no other reason than to create chaos and mayhem as well as draw himself and possibly Regina out. If he knew his sire, the demon couldn’t abide leaving anyone of the Desmoulins family alive, knowing how much they meant to him. And if he got to kill thousands of others in the process, so much the better.

It was only last fall that he had been able to return to France to try and get the family to the safety of England. He planned to arrive at the chateau and smuggle the family out exactly as he had for Regina and Daniel eight years before. Unfortunately, his arrest had put a stop to those plans. Smee had been fortunate to avoid capture and had been able to keep him apprised of developments in getting Emma and her family out of France. He could have used his powers of persuasion and compulsion on his captors, but if his sire was behind all this, he would be expecting it, first of all, and would be keeping watch on the family in order to capture him again as well as giving him an excuse to kill them all. Keeping himself away from them could only keep them safe, and he could arrange for their escape from here just as well as getting them out himself. Once he received word that the plan was in motion, he would make his escape and meet them at Ariel and Eric’s.

The night before, word had finally come that the family Desmoulins were on their way to safety. When the literal garbage that passed for breakfast was brought to him, he would use his powers to get his guard to open the door of his cell and release him.

Before that happened however, a different set of guards arrived at his cell.

~*~*~

Killian looked around at the room he found himself in when the bag covering his head was removed. It was every bit as splendid as the ballroom in Versailles with gold plating on the walls reflecting the rising sun and rich blue draperies pulled back from the floor to ceiling windows every few feet. An unholy giggle sounded behind him that sent a chill down his spine.

“Leave us.”

He refused to turn. He now knew exactly who was the instigator of the hysteria that had gripped all of France. He now knew the true reason why he had been arrested. He now knew why his eyes had been covered when he was brought here. And he also knew that Rumplestiltskin had brought him here for a reason.

“What? No greeting?” He could hear almost dancing footsteps on the marble floor underneath his feet as his greatest enemy entered his peripheral.

“What is it you want, Crocodile?” he snarled.

“Oh, I think you know the answer to that,” the monster purred. The demon stood before him, no magic disguising his true appearance this time. Another giggle escaped his lips as he backed away. “I wanted to be the one to tell you in person that you are free to go.”

“Free to go, hmm?” he asked. If his hands had been free, he would have made a show of tapping his finger on his chin, just as the demon had done before turning him centuries ago. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Yet another giggle burst from the cursed creature before him. “Because you know me too well, Dearie!” he cackled, clapping his hands delightedly. “Come, come! I want you to see something.”

When he didn’t move, the fiend waved his hand and transported him to the balcony overlooking the guillotine set up in the square. Magic transformed Rumplestiltskin back into the swave, debonair gentleman that he had masqueraded as back at Versailles all those years ago. He took his place at his side and with a loud voice announced that beginning the day's executions would be not just members of the aristocracy, but also criminals caught in the act of trying to protect those traitors. A loud cheer, bordering on madness, rose from the gathered crowd.

Just as when the beast had turned him, he was frozen in place, forced to watch as Smee ascended the platform and was pushed to his knees. He could see silent tears falling down the man's cheeks as his head was placed under the blade. Thankfully, this time, he was able to shut his eyes against the sight of his first mate meeting his end. Some small mercy that he had not received when Liam died.

He opened his eyes again when the cheer rose from the crowd. From where he stood on the balcony, he could see the red cap Smee was never seen without covering the head in the basket. Blood tears filled his eyes as the guilt for his friend’s death crashed down on him. In moments the body had been taken away and Eric and then Ariel were led to take their places under the blade.

Just as he thought he couldn’t take anymore, Henry and then Cora was executed. Cora caught sight of him and Rumplestiltskin and her screams for either one of them to save her filled the square. Killian knew that he would forever be haunted by the abrupt silence when the deadly instrument claimed her life before the crowd erupted again.

Finally, his Emma was led onto the platform. At only 18 years old, she had fully grown into the beauty he had seen only whispers of when he knew her as a child, and that she was just beginning to show when he knew her in London over a century ago. The blood tears trailed down his face as she was forced to her knees and her head placed in position. One last time, he was able to shut his eyes against the horror of his golden haired Swan losing her life to the scourge of the guillotine. His sire was so transfixed by the violence and pandemonium he had fostered, that he seemed oblivious to the small gift Killian had received in being able to close his eyes against the horror before him.

Once his Emma was dead, he was released from his magical imprisonment. He fell to his knees as a keening wail burst from him. He couldn’t lift his eyes to look on the face of his nemesis, but he could feel the rush of magic and see the change in attire on the legs and feet before him.

“Well, that was fun,” the monster quipped, as Killian’s wails began to subside. With a bellowing snarl, Killian lunged for the beast, but the creature disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Alone now in his grief, Killian remained where he was for some time before he was able to pull himself together. He straightened up to his full height and walked from the balcony and down into the square. Iron resolve rose in him to help others get out of France to safety. Since he wasn’t able to save Emma and her family, he would honor her memory by doing everything in his power to thwart Rumplestiltskin and his schemes. If he could help just one, it would be worth it.

And next time, when he recognized the soulmate connection, he’d find her again and never let her go.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing. Please don’t yell at me too hard. *Runs and hides*

#cssns20 #krystal writes #of darkness vampires and soulmates #ch4 #art by spartanguard

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my-miraculous-headcanons · 5 years

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Kim Possible AU

In which Marinette is in gymnastics, is childhood friends with Adrien, and somehow became an agent-for-hire when someone accidentally dialed her number to call for help instead of actual, professionally trained agents. That’s right, they called a preteen for help, didn’t have the time to call anyone else, and rolled with it.

Also Adrien is a total goofball with a hairless cat. He still has both his parents, who start out overprotective but gradually loosen the reigns when it becomes clear that his friend will keep him safe.

(The reason I put gymnastics and not cheerleading is because I’m pretty sure that’s an exclusively American thing? Besides, gymnastics kind of makes more sense, skillset-wise.)

Origins

• Marinette took gymnastics since she was seven, mainly because her clumsiness had been turning into a bit of a problem. (Parents start to get worried when their child’s having genuine physical difficulty in not hurting themselves. They thought gymnastics would help her learn balance, and also allow her to burn off some of her natural childlike energy.) By the age of eleven, Marinette is the best in her class, and is thinking about entering competitions.

• Adrien is Marinette’s childhood best friend. Along with gymnastics, Marinette also started taking ballet, which is where the two met. Adrien was taking ballet because both his parents had taken it, and also because he thought it would be fun. Since he’d been taking it longer than Marinette, he helped her out in class, and the two have been inseparable ever since.

• Adrien helped Marinette build a website to help get her name out there when they were eleven. They took videos of her doing a couple moves, and added a contact number. Unfortunately, (or, rather fortunately, actually,) Marinette’s number is very similar to a number for a group of agents who do pretty dangerous, life-saving jobs.

• Marinette’s first call is from a man requesting for help at a rather big bank in Paris, not far from her house. Being eleven, she doesn’t really understand that this is probably something she should inform the police, rather than handle herself. So, she and Adrien (who she sneaks out of his house) rush over, and save the day themselves.

• Adrien had videotaped the impressive gymnastics Marinette had pulled off in order to safely get through the security lasers and shut them off. After that video was posted, she started getting calls on a much more regular basis, all from people in need of help. It wasn’t the sort of attention she was looking for when making the website, but she can’t deny she doesn’t love her new job.

The Present

• By the ages of 16, Marinette and Adrien have travelled all over the world, gaining favors from a bunch of grateful individuals, and are pretty dang famous. They aren’t necessarily given special privileges at school, but if things are urgent, then they’re allowed to leave and makeup missing work online.

• Adrien is still a model, still plays piano, still takes Chinese, and still does a lot of different sports. On his own, he’s actually pretty famous. However, in this world, it’s pretty much impossible for him to display the ‘perfect, gentlemanly son’ persona when most of the world has seen videos of him screaming at the top of his lungs, running around in his underwear because somehow his pants got pulled off again. Yeah, he’s a straight A student with the classic, rich people training, but he’s still an utter dork and everyone knows it.

• Marinette, while still taking gymnastics, has lost interest in making it a life career when she already sort of does it already. She’s picked up other interests, one of them being fashion design when Adrien had introduced her to what goes on behind the scenes in his workplace. She’s good at designing stylish, yet very practical outfits, and made uniforms for herself and Adrien for their ‘side jobs’ as agents-for-hire.

• While Adrien isn’t necessarily incompetent, he’s more of the ‘do first, think later’ type of guy when it comes to their dynamic, which often leaves Marinette to do the planning and problem-solving. At this point, it’s kind of abundantly obvious that, while Adrien is academically more profound, Marinette is vastly more analytical, and probably has a ridiculously high IQ if they ever bothered to check.

• There isn’t a main villain. Papillion doesn’t exist because Gabriel is completely aware of what his son is doing, still has his darling wife, and has literally no reason to waste his money on illegal activities. He’s a big name in the fashion world, it’s not like he’s looking for world domination or something stupid like that.

• (I’m sure you’re wondering why the fuck Gabriel Agreste would let his only son go off on dangerous adventures like that on a daily. Well, he didn’t at first, but over time Marinette proved to be a more effective bodyguard than Adrien’s actual bodyguard, so he became more chill. Also, Adrien’s the face of his company, and with all the brave and daring things he’s done alongside Marinette, his popularity ratings are through the roof. Son has fun, is well-taken care of, still performs exceptionally in all his extracurriculars, and does well by the family business? It’s a win-win on all sides.)

• I would make Lila Shego, except Shego is an actually likeable villain who’s genuinely smart, badass, and fun to watch. So, idk who Shego is, definitely not any of the catty girl rivals Marinette has to put up with, but you can’t have a Kim Possible AU without Shego, so she’s definitely in there.

• Max is probably Wade. Honestly makes the most sense, but here’s a suggestion: Max and Kim are the ones who contact Marinette when she has a mission. Max is great with numbers, technology, etc, but Kim’s expertise in completely random shit like sports, terrain, and necessary gear needed for specific situations makes him a valuable asset to the team.

• We all know who Chloé is going to be, I don’t even need to say it but I will anyways. Say hello to our Bonnie, everyone. She was probably in that ballet class with Marinette and Adrien too, years ago.

• While Tom Dupain is still a baker, in this AU Sabine Cheng went on to pursue her dream as a literal rocket scientist, and succeeded. So, Sabine is basically Dr. James Timothy Possible.

• Adrien has a hairless cat named Plagg. His father is allergic to fur, and Adrien’s allergic to feathers, so he was sort of limited to pets like fish or lizards, neither of which he really wanted. He found Plagg outside gorging himself on camembert by a dumpster. Having been previously a street cat, Plagg’s growth was stunted, so he stayed pretty small.

• Luka is obviously Josh Mankey. Marinette and Luka date for a while, but eventually break up on mutual terms due to him not being able to handle some of the dangerous things that pop up in her life often. While he doesn’t panic when things go south, he’s not really physically equipped to protect himself... He’s a musician, not a fighter.

• Listen, y’all can fight me, Marinette’s longest relationship before finally getting together with Adrien is going to be with Kagami. Kagami handles the dangerous things that go on in Marinette’s life perfectly well, and they date for several months. Eventually, they do break up, but still remain good friends. (This is the period in which Adrien realises he’s jealous of Kagami, and has feelings for Marinette.)

Get Together

• For those of you who haven’t watched Kim Possible, (and honestly what the hell are you even doing with your life if you haven’t,) Kim and Ron get together at a school dance (prom, but I don’t think prom exists in France,) and share a slow dance with each other. Uhhh so basically think Despair Bear, except Adrien and Marinette are wearing fancy clothes, just got together, and share a kiss in the end.

• Marinette had recently broken up with Kagami before the dance, and is a little upset over not having a date when she already made herself a dress. Adrien is dealing with his realisation that he likes Marinette romantically, but keeps quiet about it and gives her a shoulder to cry on because she’s hurt, and he’s not going to take advantage of that. He suggests they go to the dance together as friends.

• Kagami is there, and Adrien confronts her as to why she had broken up with the most amazing girl in Paris. She tells him that she came to the conclusion that, though she loved Marinette with all her heart, Marinette clearly had someone else as her #1. Kagami was sick of having to compete for that position when the other person didn’t even need to try. Adrien is left baffled by this.

• Marinette overhears this as she’s walking over to ask Adrien for a dance. Kagami looked past Adrien’s shoulder, directly into Marinette’s eyes, and smiled knowingly. Then she walked away, sipping at her drink.

• Adrien turns around, pretty green eyes latching onto hers, and Marinette immediately understands what Kagami had meant. A slow song comes on, and she asks him to dance. Things fall in place from there.

• (Of course, after they’ve kissed and become a couple, some dumb villain is going to inevitably crash the party and try to kill Marinette, as usual, but they deal with it like they always do.)

Alright that’s the end! This was an almost completed draft of mine I had, and since I’ve been lacking on content recently, I thought I’d quickly polish this up a bit and post it. I also have some other completed things I could polish up on, but eh, don’t feel like it right now. Enjoy!

(And maybe tell me how you’d imagine your favourite KP episode would go with Marinette and Adrien as the protagonists instead!)

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asterekmess · 4 years

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S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

#personal #TeenWolf-Rewatch #anti-scott mccall #for safety reasons

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

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A New Adventure - Pt. 5

Okay, y’all, I know I have been extremely absent on this fic and it’s because I’m taking inspiration for this from my real life, but Covid literally destroyed all my plans and therefore put a halt on my inspiration for this. Also, feedback and people asking about if this would be continued literally saved this fic’s life! Don’t ever think that I don’t read your comments or put any weight to your feedback, because that is literally what got things rolling again for this one. Anyways, rant done! Happy reading!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Quarantini, anyone?

(Authors note: A lot of things, especially towards the end, are extremely fictional and have very little fact and I gloss over the aspect of time. Please don't hate me for that. I'm writing this purely for fun!)

Weeks before you'd met Arthur, you'd heard of the Corona virus. But it was in China then, certainly not a problem in your state.

After meeting Arthur though, the first case in Utah was reported. Still, it wasn't a bother. You thought nothing of it.

That was until, a few weeks later, news reports were that reported cases were skyrocketing. You looked up the symptoms and who was most at risk. Your heart dropped. Arthur was the perfect target as his immune system was highly affected by the TB.

By this point, everyone in your office knew you had a roommate, but not much more than that.

When you discovered Arthur was highly at risk, you decided not to take chances with him and asked to work remotely, to self quarantine.

A week later has gone by and the entire state is in quarantine anyway.

Arthur's confused. He's never heard of Covid, obviously. Why would he have? He finds it incredibly strange that a disease that was first reported in Asia has so quickly become a problem in the states. You have to explain internationality to him and how the entire world is basically connected.

Unlike the rest of the state, you decide not to go crazy and wipe out the shelves of toilet paper and other items. You're lucky in that you bought a large packet not long before this started.

Still, the demand for certain items surprises you and Arthur.

"What you supposed to do during a… quarantine like this?" he asks.

"I don't know, Arthur. The last big pandemic was during 1920 I think. Obviously long before my time."

This is a whole new experience for both of you.

Luckily you're easily able to set up an office at home so you can still work and not have to worry too much about money. However, your amount of work is affected.

You get worried rather quickly about how much work you're going to get. If you don't get work, you don't get paid.

Arthur sees you worrying, even though you don't say anything. He tries to help lighten the load, but there's not much he can.

Money is getting tight. You're starting to have to withdraw from savings. It doesn't help that Arthur will need a refill on his meds and they weren't cheap the first time. How the hell are you going to afford to take care of him and your dog?

Arthur is starting to worry about you. He knows how little sleep you've been getting, despite barely leaving the house.

One night, Arthur sits you down on the couch before dinner and asks you to share your worries with him.

You've been so strong in front of him up to this point, not wanting him to see you as weak or pathetic. But that night, you break down. It helps to voice your worries, even though you know there's nothing he can do.

At least that's what you think.

The weekends are when you go to the store. Arthur's been coming with you more and more to the store. He likes to see what the world is like now.

When you tell him to get ready to go to the store, he says he's not feeling very well. He has days where his TB is just worse than others. Although he's responding wonderfully to the medicine, it still seems to kick his ass. So he says he's going to stay home, get some rest.

You bid him goodbye, saying you'll be longer than usual as you need to go to the pharmacy and get him more medicine.

Your stomach drops when the pharmacist tells you the price. Thank God for your flex spending account, but it doesn't pay for the inhaler refills. Those you have to buy yourself, and it's nearly $100. You sigh. As much as you love having the Arthur Morgan as your roommate, right now is the worst time with this pandemic.

When you get home and get the groceries carried in, Arthur puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N, before we put things away, I need to show you something."

"Arthur, I got cold stuff. Will you help me? It'll be twice as quick."

He gives you a sweet grin that makes you blush and agrees. Funny. You know what he's like on the days when he really doesn't feel good. He's usually lethargic and coughs a lot. Sometimes he even vomits. Once he fell unconscious and you had to drag him to bed (which was nearly impossible. He's a big, broad guy).

Today though he's acting relatively normal. As you look a little harder at him as you move around the kitchen, putting things away, you notice he's got dirt on his skin, under his nails. His right elbow has a large scrape on it.

As soon as everything's been put away, Arthur offers you his hand. This makes your stomach flip. He's never tried to hold your hand before this.

He leads you into his bedroom and flips on the light. On his bed lies a large pile of money. Stacks and stacks of bills, piles of coins. What the hell?

After inspecting them, you notice the bills are not common day dollars. They're much bigger, the designs different. They're bills from the 1890's. The coins are exactly the same.

"I knew you was worried about money and I know I been a burden." You try to argue but he stops you. "So, when you was at the store, I snuck back to my world."

He coughs as he says this. He's visited there a couple of times and every time he does, his TB comes back in full swing, making him relapse until he returns.

"I found a few treasure maps long before I got here," he continues. "So I managed to track 'em down. Also pulled a quick robbery on a bank stage. Anyways, thought this could be my way of contributing."

You can't believe he's done this for you. You know Arthur has a soft, gentle side, but even you didn't expect this.

After counting the money, it all comes to over $1500. That will cover your expenses for over a month and adding what money you are making, you'll be fine. For a few months anyways and hopefully by that point, quarantine will be lifted.

This all adds up and you realize you don't have to worry about money anymore. Arthur has done more for you than you could imagine and it brings tears to your eyes.

He's worried when he sees you beginning to cry, thinking he did something wrong. When you tell him it's because you're so grateful, he gives you another dazzling smile.

"I just couldn't stand letting you do all the work and me just taking advantage. Maybe I'm just so used to helping folk I care about…"

He's cut off by you hugging him. You're not a hugger, typically, but this has definitely earned him one. You hear him huff a little and he pats your back.

"Thank you so much, Arthur."

After doing some research on how to trade old bills for current ones, you end up with even more money because the money Arthur provided ends up being considered antique and "museum quality" (according to the appraiser). This means you leave with well over $50,000.

"Well well, Arthur," you say with a sly smile. "Turns out your robbing ways are still highly useful, even in my day."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fanfic #a new adventure #i'm awkward

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merci-bitch · 4 years

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Riza’s Girl

Riza Stavros x Fem!Reader

Genre: drama, fluff

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, fighting, Seduction

A/N: First, I wanna thank @kileyrose-2003 for helping me so much with this. I love you and adore you. So much. This doesn’t mean I’m back, I just wanted to do this real quick. This is also for @witching-imagines . My request are closed but I wanted to give this to you as a thank you for writing that Kathleen fic for me! Thank you again love! Again, this doesn’t mean I’m back. Cause I’m not. I’m feeling a lot worse, and my mental health is complete shit but I wanted to do this. And I wanna thank all of you who told me to shit in what other say, it means so much. Y’all are so kind to me and I honestly don’t deserve it. Thank you, stay inside and be safe. Xx

"Oh, hello!" I stiffened up at the sound of Riza's voice and slowly turned around. Trying to put on a brave facade despite the fear that was radiating through me.

'A woman?' Riza thought, throwing off her floral shawl to the ground. "How fucking fitting" I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "W-what do you mean?" Riza smiled at the nervousness that was show in your tone and eyed you up and down. Taking notice of how your black pants tightly hugged your hips and how the necklace you wore laid daintily on your collar bones. Riza thoughts were saying how you were the most beautiful creature she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Here I thought H worked alone...but my, was I wrong." She ran a hand through my hair, standing close enough she could breathe in the scent of your sweet smelling perfume. For the first time in a while, Riza found herself confused. She thought she'd be jealous of you but instead she found herself jealous of H. If your perfume smelled sweet she could only wonder how lovely your hair would smell and how sweet your lips would taste.

"You're quite the precious thing aren't you? Poor you." Riza's smile glinted on gleeful malice. "It's uh...been a steep learning curve" Riza chuckled and looked me deeply in the eyes. "I'm sure it has."

Riza pulled a gun and I felt myself automatically tense up. "Oh this, this is Snapnose Crossing Annihilator. Do you know what this does to pretty human flesh like yours?" I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling completely terrified. She was standing so close to me that I could feel her breath on my neck. "It boils you from the inside out"

"C-cute." There was a pause for a moment. "You're adorable, you know that right? Seriously, how the hell did H end up with you." Her eyes were watching your every move, from each breath to each blink of your eyes. Making sure she knew everything that was going on here and now. However, Riza saw the raw fear inside your eyes. The absolute terror and how your petite human body was shaking. Despite not wanting to admit it, she saw herself recognized in you. The fear.

~ "...I told you Riza! I told you those guns needed to be shipped out and put on the next ship in less then 13:00 hours!" The young woman's eyes rolled into the back of her head in frustration and tensed. "And I told you that I can't run dealing on a crew that isn't running on it's full capacity of workers. So stop bitching me? She snapped at her boss.

That much larger and broader man grabbed her shoulder, forcing her close to him. "And who the hell told you you're allowed to talk to me like that? Mind your place! You're lucky I don't blast you to the next planet."

She faked a smile and wrapped her arms around him. "So much talk for someone who takes no action. What did I tell you when I started this job?"

She could see he was melting into every part of her touch as she found a smile hinting on the corners of her lips. "You...you could handle this"

"Exactly. So let me handle what I need to handle and then you can have your share" Riza could see his eyes traveling her beautiful body and she found herself swelling with hatred. "For my sakes and yours I hope so."

He pulled away from her and Riza watched as he walked away and looked at the dark and musty place. "Some day...some day, I won't allow myself to endure such places of filth as this." ~

Riza lowered her gun and dropped it to the floor, making me jump. Her dark and cold eyes turned warm and soft. Surprising me. She started walking even closer to me, as if she wasn't already close enough. Ending up with backing me up against the cold, brick wall of her office. Such fear was written in your eyes, like a little kid after it's first nightmare. Like a kid who'd just fallen of it's bike, with a bloody knee. Or like a teenage girl who's boyfriend just broke up with her. Silent tears were making their way down my cheeks, refusing to meet Riza's eyes.

The girl in front of her was maddening and Riza never wanted anyone like this before. She wanted her more then she'd ever wanted H. She watched the way you winched as her thumb gently caressed your cheek and shushed you. "Such a pretty face. Tears don't deserve to grace them. Not yet at least, and in a different setting" Riza couldn't hold back the smirk that formed itself on her lips. She pulled the younger girls chin up, making her meet her own eyes.

Riza was taller then me, which didn't help with the feeling of being so small and the feeling of barely existing. I looked behind her, seeing the gun she had thrown to the ground and then back up to her. Her eyes were studying my face. Tracing her finger gently alongside my jawline, making me pull away slightly. "Such eyes. Such pretty little eyes." Riza took her bottom lip in between her teeth.

I took my chance and pushed Riza's shoulder back and ran towards where her gun was laying on the floor. Picking it up and holding it against her. Riza's eyes showed some sort of surprised expression. Soon enough her crackle filled the air, holding her one hand to her chest while slapping her thigh with the other. "Do you really think that would scare me? Do you even know how to use it?" I looked back and forth between her and the weapon. She was right, I didn't really know how to use it. Where was H when you needed him?! I looked behind me to see no one. "Oh no sweetie. He won't come anytime soon, but you will"

I felt the gun being taken out of my hands, and that hand pulling me close. Forcing me so close to her, I could feel her breath on me. My face leveled with her chest. Closing my eyes, praying to the gods above to let H come and save me.

Cause as a person "W-why are you like this?" Riza's lips formed into a small smirk. "Like what?" Her tone so mocking, I just wanted to slap her. "Why are you such a bitch? What did someone do to you that made you so..bitchy?" Riza laughed. "Aww sweetie. Isn't it funny how when we describe a man they are firm but when a woman is firm she is a bitch?"

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore her words. Opening them as I felt her hand stroke it's way up and down my cheek. Moving her fingers alongside my jawline, pulling my chin up. Making me look her in the eyes. Those cold, blue eyes. My eyes traveled down to her neck, the necklace she was wearing was very interesting.

"You like that necklace? I got it from a very prominent designer as a thank you for taking care of an issue he had with one of his daughters courtiers. If you were with me, you'd have a dozen of them. Anything you want, at your finger tips"

Riza said as she raised her head slowly, looking down at me. "You're so pretty. You know that right?" Riza rubbed her hands up and down my sides, squeezing my hips. "From your head all the way to your toes" Her hands lingered down to my thigh. Giving it a harsh squeeze. "I'd hate to think of the prospect of someone else touching what belongs to me.." Her voice faded to a low growl.

"Stop it!" I grunted. "Stop what." She squeezed my thigh again. "That!" Riza let out a laugh caressed my cheek. "Oh honey, I'll never stop!" I could see how much she was enjoying this and I hated it so much. "Fuck you!"

"Oh yes, I shall." I rolled my eyes at her comment. 'What an asshole' was running through my mind. "It's not so bad being with me. Ask H. I'm sure he'd agree" Riza said as she crossed her arms.

"You leave him out of this!"

"Oh honey, he's the reason you're in this in the first place."

I felt my eyes go wide, and saw how her smirk only grew. “Seriously gorgeous, where have you been all my life.” Riza trapped my against the wall, eyeing me like a piece of meat. “You’re such a pretty thing for dealing with a grueling life in the agency.”

“I-I like where I am,” I couldn’t help but stutter, trying to escape her but she really had me cornered. “Do you really though? Really, H doesn’t deserve you. I can make you happy. Happier then you could ever imagine.” She nipped the cartilage on my ear and I couldn’t help but wince. Soon enough I felt her wet tongue run it’s way up my ear, making me shiver in disgust.

“I’m happy though” I tried to push her away but Riza pushed me even further into the wall. “But you’re not.” She held my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her on almost a painful angle. “You love him..don’t you? Oh you poor thing. He’s nothing special sweetheart.”

“But you are?” Her smile was a mix of cynicism and lust. “Oh yes...in more ways then one.” Her eyes were looking into mine, she was clearly hopeful. But there was something in her tone that seemed promising. “I-I’m not sure Riza. How can I know that you’re speaking the truth?” She clicked her tongue and pouted. “Because darling, I always speak the truth.” She leant in and kissed my cheek and for the first time, I didn’t pull away. This particular thing made her dig her nails further into my hips, pulling me closer, as she started almost feeding on my jawline, leaving kisses and bites here and there. I felt my eyes falling shut and Riza’s laugh of approval.

“What the hell is this?!”

I heard Riza let out a groan of annoyance. “Oh, what the hell?” Riza grabbed my wrist tightly, sinking her nails deeply into my skin so that I couldn’t escape her. Leaving red marks that anyone could know would turn into bruises. “Back off sweetie. She’s mine now.” The growl in her voice was unavoidable as she pulled her annihilator out with her other arm, pointing it straight at H. “Riza! Please!” She shushed me and glared at H. “You let her go Riza, she’s mine”

“Yours? Oh honey. I’m afraid you didn’t get to her in time. She’s mine now. Aren’t you, Y/N?” I continued to try to get away from Riza, trying to block her other hand that was trying to cup my face.

“This doesn’t involve her. This is between the two of us. You’re manipulating her! Just give the damn crystal and I’ll go” H said with his tone clearly filled with annoyance.

“You can go but she’s not going anywhere. Tell him who you belong to, my sweet” I glanced over at H, giving him pleading and sorry eyes before looking down onto the floor. “Well, you’ve left me no other choice then.” Before I even had the chance to process his words and what he had to say, bullets came flying my way. I let out a scream, dropping to the ground. “Oh damn, you!” Riza screamed. Whether she was hurt or not I couldn’t tell but I was definitely terrified. “Go, Y/N. Now!”

“Like hell she is!” Riza picked up a vase, throwing it straight in your direction. The antique glass made direct impact with the back of your head and you felt as if your head was about to explode. “Oww! Oww! Oww!” You screeched.

“You bitch! This is the final straw!”

“We’ll see about that.”

***

I didn’t know long I had been out but when I woke I felt soft hands running through my hair. Irritating my thudding head. “Well hi there, sunshine! You’ve been out for quite a while.”

Riza. “Where..where’s H?”

“Oh that doesn’t matter for now. What matters is I have you, darling girl.” Her smile was bright and amorous and I wanted to smack it off her face. “I don’t find you amusing right now. My head is killing me” I said as I grabbed my head. Closing my eyes for a short moment.

“Hm. You might be saying that now but you won’t be saying it in a little while.” She maneuvered her body so she was sitting on top of me. She leant down and let her lips touch mine. “R-Riza..”

“Yes, my darling?” Her voice was low and husky p. “Stop..it” I grunted while trying to push her off down by her thighs, which only made her let out a low moan, mixed with a chuckle. I wanted nothing to do with Riza. Not until I knew what has happened to H. I didn’t care what happened, just needed to know he was alright.

“Again darling, he doesn’t matter for the moment. What matters now is me and you..You find me attractive, don’t you darling?” Riza said as she leant down again, her nose brushing against mine and her hair tickling my face. Making me squint my nose.

“I’m not speaking to you.” I said as I closed my eyes. Refusing to meet her blue ones.

“So mature. So fiery! I love it.”

Of course she did. But in a way, she seemed desperate. Desperate to get in my pants. What did she think would happen? That she would tame me? I think not. “That’s it!” I shoved Riza off of me and got up from the bed, shuddering, running a hand through my hair. “I’m leaving!” Where the hell were my shoes?! I started looking around the room for my shoes. “Leaving? You want to run away?” Riza teased, letting out a slight chuckle.

“What? Is this all some sort of joke to you?” There was was a brief pause on Riza’s part and your face turned red. “Is it?!”

For a moment I could have sworn I saw confusion in her eyes. “Y-Y/N, I didn’t mean to offend-“

“Oh but you did. You threatened to shoot me, you tried to seduce me, you hurt H, and you hurt me Riza. You say you love me but I see you for who you really are.” I found my shoes and slipped them on. “Now if you excuse me, I have to find my partner...and hopefully alive.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding looking towards the exit of the room.

“Y/N, darling-“ Riza reaches out and touched my arms.

“DON’T touch me!” I screamed, trying to pull myself away from her but she had me cornered. Locking her bedroom door, so that way I couldn’t leave the room and rather said, leave her. “Y/N-“ She brushed the side of my face and that’s when I broke down, tears starting to flow down my cheeks.

“Y/N, my sweet. I love you”

“No, you do-“

“Yes-“ She forced me to look at her. “Yes, I do. There’s something about you that makes me feel almost magnetized to you. Please, let me make it up to you. You do think pretty, don’t you?”

“Riza, this is not about looks! Yes, you are beautiful but this about you as a person and what you did to not only me but to H.” I looked up at her, letting my arms drop to my sides. Letting out a sigh of annoyance.

“He’s an ass, Y/N. A total and utter ass. If you were in my shoes you’d understand how I’d feel. He doesn’t-“

“I know he’s an ass but he’s a good person at heart. He tries, Riza.”

“Trying doesn’t make up for what he’s down though” She said as she crossed her two front arms.

“I know. I know, but he’s learning and so am I. I thought I liked him but I like too and I’m willing to try this out but I want you to be yourself. No using seduction on me, no hurting me-“

“Y/N, you’re talking to me like I’m a gentle person. I’m not gentle nor am I sweet by any means. I don’t deserve you” Riza said as she cubbed my cheeks.

“Maybe you don’t but I’m willing to give a second chance just this once.” There was a brief silence and Riza smiled. Her smile as bright as the sun when it rose from its deep. Pulling me in for a kiss, pulling me closer as ever second went by. Wrapping her arms around me. Moaning into every kiss.

“Oh, I will not let you down Y/N. You will never regret this my sweet.” Riza said as she bit her bottom lip, leaning her head back. Walking slowly backwards, towards the bed. Curling her finger as a signal for me to follow her. She slowly sat down onto the bed, leaning back on her elbows, lifting one of her legs. Showing it bare. Bitting her bottom lip once again.

“Where are you going with this, Riza.” I said as I crossed my arms. Looking over at Riza who was lying on the bed. Riza started to pull up her dress, revealing more of her long legs and her delicate skin. “Oh honey, I think you know exactly what I’m doing. Now come here.” She curled her finger again and the closer I got to her, the bigger the smirk her lips were as grew. Riza slowly spread her legs, making room for me. I slowly crawled onto the bed. Riza falling completely back against the mattress. I crawled further up until my nose was brushing against hers. Her face was all flustered. Her lips swollen, and her eyes filled with pure lust. Her legs moved up and down my sides. Wrapping themselves around my waist, locking her ankles and pushing me down.

“You’re my sweet girl now Y/N. And I will never let you go.”

#riza stavros x reader #men in black international

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living-dead-parker · 5 years

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Slipping Through My Fingers - Dad!Tony

This is my submission for @ironmandeficiency‘s writing challenge for their 600 follower celebration!! I hope y’all enjoy it.

Summary: Tony ponders over the lost time. Based on Slipping Through My Fingers by Abba and Mamma Mia the film!

Warnings: some mild cursing, some angst, hopefully, a happy ending or at least a hopeful one.

Word Count: 1.6k. (including lyrics)

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness And I have to sit down for a while

"Hey dad," you call out to the older man standing hunched over the workbench in his lab. The man doesn't look up at first, deciding to hum in acknowledgment as he continues to tinker on some project before him. From what you can tell, he's bullshitting it as there are no visible blueprints nor any plans on a screen. Just his hands and his imagination running rampant. "Peter and I are going out after school," you continue, shifting from one leg to the other. The statement comes out just like that, a statement, rather than the usual question you're used to asking. "No need to wait up for me tonight."

Tony finally takes the time to look up, noticing your attire. A little black dress that, personally, seems too small for his liking. Matching black boots, hair in its natural style, and he can tell that you've worked on your makeup as well. However, he doesn't comment on it. You're 19, you don't have to abide by his rules. Not like he had any, to begin with, but now more than ever, he really does not have a say. Nonetheless, a knot tightens over his throat, leaving him to a simple nod. Otherwise, his voice or his words might betray him.

"Sure thing, kid," Tony manages, shooting you a smirk in an attempt to hide the fact that deep down, things are hitting him like a truck. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Got it, Iron Fart," you call out, saluting the man with a wave and heading out. You left too early to hear him mumble a very quiet 'I love you.'

For the longest, Tony was so overwhelmed by this fear of running out of time that he seemed to neglect aspects of his life by worrying about running out of time. It seems quite ironic; wasting time by worrying about running out of it. It seems like something any genius could point out and fix easily. Tony felt like an idiot in this regard. But when you're constantly risking your life, when the lives of those around you are also on the line, it's hard not to worry. People can be taken as quickly as they come.

With that thought, Tony has to take a seat. His legs feel like they could give out on him at any moment. Maybe it's from the lack of sleep, the lack of a proper meal or the sudden bombshell unknowingly dropped on him. That of his kid, his child, his own flesh and blood growing up.

The feeling that I'm losing her forever And without really entering her world I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it Slipping through my fingers all the time Do I really see what's in her mind Each time I think I'm close to knowing She keeps on growing

Tony feels his chest become heavy as his lips tremble only slightly. His eyes gloss over and, God, he feels like a fool. But the slight gap in his relationship with you is a design of his own making. You were so small when he had to don the Iron Suit. Such a young kid, and he didn't even know how to properly take care of himself when you came around. It was so sudden, at least to him. But he knew that was no excuse, so he took care of you as best he good. To say the least, your family personified the 'it takes a village' saying. Nonetheless, you were young when he became a superhero. His fear stemmed from Afghanistan, and it evolved from there. Especially knowing he had his precious child at home, awaiting his arrival every time he was in danger.

Being a superhero made Tony busy, so he missed out on some of your childhood, and most of your adolescence. Even well into your adulthood, he remains busy. It's not something he's proud of, but here he is. He only has himself to blame for not immersing himself into you. For not being there as a father should. For being so distant. He's not a bad dad, and even you could attest to that. He's a great dad, especially compared to Howard. But he just never knew how to be there in so many ways. Sure, he was physically there, and he was there for you mentally, as well as for big accomplishments. But he wasn't there for any of your first days of school, he wasn't there for the day that you managed to beat up your bully, he wasn't there when you had a dream he died and you needed to hug him and tell him you loved him. He wasn't there when you got with Peter, nor was he there for you to tell him about the dogs you've seen over the years. Sure, he was there, but he wasn't always there. Even if it was the small things.

So when Tony was there, he cherished it. Even now, as he looks back on it. The sound of your laughter, as he's put it before, is like music to him. It's the definition of all that is good, it's the light in a dark room. Even if you always say it sounds horrible, your laugh is his lifeline, his purpose, his love. He beams at every laugh he shares with you, a smile so real and so genuine and so goddamn bright it puts the sun to shame.

It also seems that every time he thinks he's close to some new revelation with you, things change. Faster than he can comprehend. One day, he's thinking about how you wanted a pony for your birthday and suddenly, you don't like ponies. Every time he thinks he's close, you run ten miles forward, and he's left running marathons to figure you out. Then right as his fingertips just graze you, and he thinks you're on the same page, you grow again. He's right back where he started.

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table Barely awake, I let precious time go by Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling And a sense of guilt I can't deny

What happened to the wonderful adventures The places I had planned for us to go (Slipping through my fingers all the time) Well, some of that we did but most we didn't And why, I just don't know

He reminisces on the 'late night breakfasts', as you'd call them, that you both shared. They were rare, but they were some of his fondest moments. He'd be on the verge of sleep and you were just on the brink as well. Both of you awake for different reasons. Either way, those were some of his fondest moments, if he's being honest. However, now that she's not here, it tends to him. He feels guilt.

Guilty because he wasn't there for all the in-betweens. Guilty because he never told you just how much he loves you enough. Guilty because he let all that time slip through his fingers. All the time he could have spent enjoying you. Sure, he spent time with you. He made time for you. Especially in recent years, the two of you making up for all that lost time. But even that doesn't feel like enough. Yeah, he made up all the lost moments, most of the planned adventures, and even new ones. He made it up as much as he could, but he still felt like he was missing something. Missing something grand, something bigger than just time. He missed you.

"Tony?" Pepper calls out from out of nowhere. At least that's what it felt like to Tony. Slowly, he came back to, looking up at his wife with a far-gone look. A distant glance. "You should come to eat."

Tony takes a look at the woman in front of him, really looks her in the eyes, and she does the same. She sees all the pent up pain and she's quick to walk over to the man she loves and wraps her arms around the man. Tony rests his head on Pepper's stomach, holding her so close to him.

"Is it about Y/N?"

Tony nods, feeling Pepper's hand tangled in his hair. He leans into her touch, enjoying it far too much to want to let go of her. But she does have that kind of effect on him.

"Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture," Tony mumbles into the woman's stomach. Pepper sighs softly, feeling where he's coming from. "And save it from the funny tricks of time. She's grown so quick and I never got to stop to admire her in her might. She's a great woman and I hate that I've missed so much, Pep," Tony continues. He lets out a long and drawn-out breath. "It just feels like she's constantly slipping through my fingers."

"Tony," Pepper softly speaks, looking down at her husband. Her voice is soothing to him and he feels the vibrations as she speaks. "You can only move forward. She loves you, instead of focusing on what you missed out, try making more memories in the future. That time managed to slip, and you can acknowledge that you messed up there. But all you can do is continue to be there for her and assume a more active role now."

Tony nods, his hand moving to Pepper's belly.

"I promise you Morgan H. Stark," Tony speaks to Pepper's tiny belly. "I won't make the same mistakes this time. I'll fix the lost time with Y/N and I'll make sure to be there for you. It's what you both deserve."

Send in feedback, requests, and asks!!

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wakandan-flowerz · 5 years

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Our Love In Color XX

A/N: I don’t know why I had been holding this part hostage for so long but, here it is. Thank you all for reading this. There is a high possibility that this will be ending soon. I have contemplated doing just HCs and imagines specifically for this AU. If that is something you want, let me know. One more thing...reader is Black and Plussized

Warnings: fluff, some comedy...or at least I hope y’all laugh, plot progression

Translation: yam ivu-my rose

You got up at the earliest you could to stare at the chest piece. You took a sigh, realizing your vision had come through. The small triangles and diagonal lines below the breast line. The simple yet equisite design that you did all by yourself. You surprised yourself with the artistry of it. You nodded your head, dusting off the excess and admiring the glaze on it.

M’Baku stared out the window of his room. His heart was beating fast as he only had so little time between now and his installation. Two weeks, he told himself. Two weeks and he was going to be Chief. He took a deep breath, steadying his own heart. He smiled feeling this giddiness. He heard your footsteps coming to the door. There was a faint knock announcing your arrival. “It’s open.” He said.

You opened the door and walked in. “Hey.” You said, walking in. You dropped your bag at the door and carried the wrapped chest piece and a garment bag further into the room.

“Hey.” He said walking up to you and planting a kiss on your cheek. “Can I see it?”

“No.” You said, moving the wrapped chest piece away from him. “You are supposed to receive it at the dinner tonight. I worked really hard on this. I don’t want you ruining the surprise.”

“Is it really a surprise if I know I’m receiving it?” M’Baku said.

“Yes, it is.” You said. “You’ve been so impatient lately. What has gotten into you?”

“A lot is happening. You don’t think I jumped into this too fast?” M’Baku said sitting on the bed. You set the chest piece aside with your belongings and cupped his face. You felt his uneasy. A shakiness coming over your hands and a chill in your feet.

“M’Baku, this is your time. You were born for this. This was as good of time as any. Niyi is proud of you. I’m sure the Chief is proud. The tribe is proud. I am proud of you.” You said. “There is nothing in your way.”

M’Baku wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your chest. He took another deep breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You hummed.

“Y/N.” he said.

“Hm?” you responsed. He pulled away slightly and looked up at you, eyes soft.

“I have something…I want to talk to you about it. I have no idea when I should do this but, if I don’t do it now, I may never do it.” M’Baku said. He got up and walked over to his large dresser. He pulled out one of the small drawers and pulled out a small box.

“What is that?” you asked.

M’Baku came back, sat on the bed and opened the box, presenting to you the shiny ring with the wood grain in it. He looked up to you and kissed your knuckles. “This ring is an heirloom, passed from generations. It was always worn by the Chieftess or the woman who would be Chieftess.” He said. “It goes without saying that it’s yours…if you’ll have it.”

“Oh, M’Baku.” You said, studying it. “Yes.”

M’Baku smiled, placing it on your right ring finger. It was a tad loose but, you were going to take extra care that it wouldn’t fall off. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, I like it.” You said. You leaned in and gave him a kiss.

“Good. You have your attire for the dinner tonight?” he asked.

“Yes and Mama had a field day making alterations to it.” You said.

“What’s in your backpack? It looks heavy.” He said.

“Well, I figured if it was a dinner and social like Niyi told me then it would run late. There would be no point in me going home in the dead of night. I figured…you’d have no problem if I were to spend the night.” You said with a coy smile on my face.

M’Baku returned your smile, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you on top of him. You gave him a kiss, giggling as his hands squeezed your butt.

The dinner and gala was full of people from the tribe. Some you hadn’t seen before, others were acquaintances or people you have chatted with passing by. You had never been introduced to so many people and it was a good thing you weren’t required to remember their names at this moment. You smiled and conversed with M’Baku as he spoke with others. Your family opted out of coming once your father came down with a common cold. You tried to enlist your sister but, she declined to be with her husband instead. Everything seemed so fast pace, you didn’t really get a down period until dinner was about to be served. The table set up was a big rectangle in the grand dining room. Everyone talked in their respective areas. You sat between M’Baku and a council member but, the council member was busy with another conversation.

M’Baku placed his hand in yours as he nodded along to a conversation with the Chief and another member of the council. You sipped from your water cup as you looked over at Jolasun, smiling at her.

“Wine, ma’am?” a server asked you. You nodded and watched as she filled your glass, almost a little too much. However, it was not going to go to waste. M’Baku looked over at you as you sipped the wine and winced.

“Have you drank before, yam ivu?” M’Baku asked.

“Of course, I have. It’s just been a minute.” You said going back for another swallow.

“Sip slow.” He said, pulling the cup from you. “Jabari liquor is extremely strong. You don’t want to drink too much on an empty stomach.”

“Okay, I got this.” You laughed.

“I know. I just don’t want to be scooping you off the floor at the end of the night.” He said, wiping your chin with his thumb. You both chuckled.

There was the tap of the Chief’s knobkerrie, beckoning everyone to give him their attention. He nodded at you as you gave him a slight smile. “I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. We celebrate M’Baku taking the throne. He will usher in a new era of the Jabari and carry out the will of Hanuman for his years to come. I, as his father, cannot express how proud I truly am.”

M’Baku squinted his eyes and bit his lip. He looked down at his lap and then at you. You squeezed his hand a little tighter before looking back at his father. “It is at this time…I would like to present M’Baku with his chest piece, created by his betrothed and the future Chieftess, Y/N.”

A large box was escorted in, carried on a platform by two guards. M’Baku stood, leaning over the table to receive the box from them. A server moved the china from his placemat just before he set the box down. He remained standing, looking to you with a smile. You bit your lip with excitement. Your toes dug into your shoes as you tried to stay in your seat. M’Baku let out a short laugh, looking at you. M’Baku moved the latch on the box and lifted the top of it. He smiled, looking down into the box and looking over at you.

M’Baku pulled the chest piece from the box, presenting first to the Chief and Niyi and then to the crowd. Everyone marveled at it and clapped. M’Baku turned it back to himself, glancing over all the small details, taking them in as quick as he could.

You met M’Baku’s gaze as his smile grew wider. He opened his hand to you. You took it, letting him pull you up. He kissed your hand and went to kiss your cheek. You found his voice in your ear. “Thank you so much, yam ivu. I knew you could do it.”

You laughed and looked out to the other seated people, giving small smiles. You looked over at Jolasun who was clapping especially hard.

Dinner went on with small talk and smiles. You sipped slow like M’Baku said but, your sips were more like gulps. You started to tingle and the room seemed like it was swaying. M’Baku watched you try to put the chalice back in it’s place but, ended up bumping the bottom of it on the plate, spilling some. Your movements stuttered but, you eventually got it where it needed to be.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? We’re just having dinner.” You said, slurring.

“What?” M’Baku said, scrunching up his face.

“Sssh.” You said, putting your finger to your lips.

M’Baku laughed at your behavior. The dinner closed and everyone got to do their last bit of mingling before they departed.

“Where’s Y/N?” Niyi asked. “I haven’t seen her since she left the table.”

“I’m not sure.” M’Baku said, looking over the crowd. He spotted you, with your arm around Jolasun and your chalice in your hand. Your eyes were low and your shoulders were slacked. He laughed and shook his head. By the time M’Baku walked over, Lesedi had bursted into laughter at something you said.

“You two are so beautiful. Wow, you’re glowing.” You said, wavering. Jolasun struggled to keep you up. “Everything was so nice tonight. I’m glad you both came.”

“Yam ivu.” M’Baku called, creeping up behind you. You jumped, almost spilling the wine on the floor and yourself.

“M’Baku! Guys, it’s M’Baku!” you cooed. You opened your arms and wrapped around his torso, your cheek pressed to his side. “Mmm.”

“Looks like you will have your hands full tonight.” Jolasun said.

“Oh, he’s going to have more than just his hands full tonight.” You slurred. Lesedi chuckled as she took Jolasun’s hand.

“Hey, relax.” M’Baku said. “Can I take this from you?” M’Baku grabbed your wrist as you were on the verge of dropping the chalice. Thankfully, most of the guests had gone home and no one was focused on your sloppy behavior.

“Sure. Take whatever you want.” You giggled.

“We’re going to leave you to it.” Jolasun said, motioning to your behavior.

He looked down, chuckling at your swaying and small stumbles. “Thank you for coming.” M’Baku said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Jolasun said. “I’m so happy for you. It’s all coming together. Enjoy this, M’Baku.”

“Oh, he’s going to enjoy this. Enjoy every bit of it.” You hummed, throwing your head back.

“Okay, we’re going to go.” Lesedi said. “Have a good night.” Lesedi and Jolasun left the banquet room, waving goodbye. You waved so childlike that M’Baku couldn’t help but, laugh.

“Now, you…mister.” You said. “What are we going to do?”

M’Baku picked you up bridal style and carried you to his room. Carrying you through the hall was full of laughter and meaningless conversation.

“I’m so proud. My soulmate is going to be Chief of the tribe. The Great Gorilla! Lord M’Baku of the mighty Jabari. I’m so proud.” You laughed, getting obnoxiously louder. “I’m proud. Parents proud. Tribe proud. Pride, pride, pride. We’re rooting for you! We’re all rooting for you!” M’Baku laughed and hushed you from trying to scream.

M’Baku turned the corner to get to his room. “What am I going to do with you?” You giggled, kicking your feet. “We’re going to get you ready for bed.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s do something fun.” You moaned. M’Baku set you down on the bed. You rolled on your side then, wavered to sit up straight. M’Baku stood in front of you, trying to figure out how to take off your dress. Your hands crept to the buckle of his belt, pulling on it.

“Nope. Uh-uh.” M’Baku said, grabbing your wrists.

“Please, I want to try again.” You slurred.

“No, not while you’re drunk.” He said, shaking his head.

“But, just like this morning. If we don’t do it now, we’ll never do it.” You said, sitting on your knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, practically throwing yourself on him. “Please. It’ll be okay. Let’s just try.”

“Y/N, come on. We have to get you ready for bed. Is your hair wrap in your bag?” M’Baku said.

“M’Baku, please. I want you inside me.” You moaned. You whispered in his ear in the most seductive voice you can muster. “I want every inch.”

M’Baku eyes widen as he felt himself growing slightly, but he couldn’t do that to you. “Y/N. Lay down.”

“Mmm. Are you going to use your mouth again?” you cooed laying back on the bed. “Or can I use mine this time?”

“I’m taking your shoes off.” He said.

“Why stop there? Take it all off.” You said. You arched your back, reaching underneath you to undo the back of your dress. “I’ll make it easy for you.”

“Are your pajamas in your bag?” M’Baku asked. He left you on the bed to get your backpack from the corner, opening it. He pulled out your hair wrap and your night shirt. He turned and saw you in your tube bra and shorts. You bit your lip glaring at him. M’Baku marveled at the curves of your body and his fingers wanted to remove your bra and fondle with your breasts. Your shorts rode up your thighs and made you look even more appetizing. He clutched your clothes in his fist, fighting the urge. His length pressed between his thigh and the fabric of his clothes.

“M’Baku.” You called before biting your lip. “You can leave that in the bag. We won’t be needing it.” You grabbed the top of your bra and began to pull it down. M’Baku rushed across the room and grabbed your wrists, pinning you to the bed.

“No. You need to sleep it off.” M’Baku said, trying to practice discipline. “Put your hands over your head, please.”

You pouted, following his requests. M’Baku quickly put your shirt on you, trying not to focus on your body.

“You’re boring. Boo.” You whined.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you like this.” He said. “You’re going to sleep it off and we’ll talk in the morning. Let me put your head wrap on.”

M’Baku took the patterned silk sash and began to wrap it around you head, not disrupting the puff at the back of your head. You touched your head and smacked your lips. “You didn’t do it right!”

M’Baku jumped back and furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry. Do you want do it?”

“Move.” You groaned. You struggled to find the knot. “What did you do?”

“I tied how you tied it.” M’Baku said.

“No, you didn’t! What the hell did you do?” you cried.

M’Baku laughed as he guided your hands to the knot. “See. I did it how you do it.”

“Okay.” You sighed. You sat silently for a moment as M’Baku watched you. Your eyes fluttered for a second, making M’Baku think you were getting sleepy.

“You ready to lay down?” he asked.

“Are you going to lay down with me?” you asked. “You haven’t taken your clothes off, yet.”

“I wanted to make sure you were settled.” M’Baku said. You hummed something before wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing. You pulled him in, your thighs hugging his hips. Your head laid against his chest. He felt you relax on him, like you were conceding. “Come on.”

M’Baku pulled his cover and sheets back. He moved the pillow so it would cradle your head nicely. You crawled lazily to your spot. You laid on your side, letting M’Baku drape you. “When are you coming to bed?” you sighed.

“Soon. I’ll be right there, yam ivu.” He said. Your eyes closed, succumbing to whatever form of slumber came over you.

M’Baku took a cold shower to ease his tensions and dressed himself for bed. He shut the grand double doors and dimmed the lights of the room. You still laid sleeping softly in the same spot he left you. M’Baku smiled, easing himself under the covers and wrapping an arm around your waist. He kissed the back of your neck and nozzled in with you.

“I love you.” You muttered.

M’Baku eyes snapped open and chuckled lovingly. “I love you too.”

You stirred and groaned as you woke up. The light peaking in made you wince as you clutched your head. You heard footsteps move around the room, making you look in the direction they were coming from. M’Baku closed the wood shades on all the windows before coming back to the bed. “Good morning, yam ivu.” He said softly, sleep still in his voice making sound even more gruff. The sound of his voice would have aroused you but, with this headache you had none of that was going to happen.

“Good morning.” You groaned. “My head hurts.” M’Baku leaned over planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I can send for some medicine.” He said, going towards the door. He whispered something outside to someone and returned when the quick conversation was done.

“I’m sorry. I know this night meant a lot to you.” You huffed as he got back into the bed with you.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Besides, I believe the first night we shared a bed I cried in your arms.” M’Baku said. “I’d say we were even.”

You chuckled. “I only remember bits and pieces. Was I terrible?” you asked.

“Aside from being loud and sexually aggressive? Not at all.” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry.” You groaned, covering your face.

M’Baku grabbed your hands and kissed the ring he placed on your finger barely 24 hours ago. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was quite comical.”

You chuckled, cuddling up to him. You checked your headwrap and smiled. “You wrapped my hair!”

“And you were adamant that I didn’t do it right.” He laughed.

“You did it right.” You said, fumbling with the bow of it. You settled looking over at him. “So how does it feel, waking up next to me bright and early?”

“I love it.” He said, running a thumb over his cheek. “You’re beautiful when you sleep. When you wake up. When you’re drunk.” You rolled your eyes at his response.

“Please don’t.” you said.

“Seriously.” M’Baku said. “Yesterday was great. Giving you the heirloom, getting my armor that you made, having to take care of you while you’re intoxicated. I wouldn’t have it anyother way.” You leaned in, kissing him. M’Baku, cupping your face, deepened it. You pulled away, smiling.

“Now, what is really going to be funny is you having to take care of me drunk.” M’Baku said.

“Uh, see. Here you go.” You groaned.

taglist: @yaachtynoboat711 @randomwordprompts @bidibidibombaclaat @great-neckpectations @iamrheaspeaks @muse-of-mbaku @destinio1 @yofavcocoa @slimmiyagi @theunsweetenedtruth @chasingsunlight @theesotericqueen

#mbaku x reader #mbaku #mbaku fanfiction #mbaku imagine #mbaku x you #mbaku x black reader #mbaku x plussized reader #black panther fic #wakanda

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briars7 · 5 years

Text

🏰Bells, Bowers, Backgrounds, and Bastions #2🌄

((This one is supposed to be more about the world where I live, and less a fun fic about my life. Wait, fic? No no no. It’s all true, love. From a certain perspective. 😏)) Case you didn’t read part one of my story, I’ll begin by letting y’all know that the setting takes place in medieval Europe. Knights and royalty, peasants and paupers...and the occasional odd assassin. The architecture and culture have inspired novelists and romantics throughout history; tales of noble deeds done by galant knights, damsels in distress, commoners becoming queens and the food is amazing. Least according to the renaissance fairs. Puh-lease. It’s a load of malarkey, I’ll tell ya right now. History’s written by the victors, right? Sure, the high and mighty have it good. They’re going to keep it that way too. Some of them used to be one of the lower class and they’ll do anything, lie, cheat, kill, sleep their way if necessary to keep from ever returning to that stage. Can’t really blame them, but there’s a few lines (a very few) that I won’t cross. Probably more than might be considered “moral” by some, but we all have our versions of what we’ll do when pushed. Ah, but I’m getting off topic. Just a bit. The grand citadel that has become my home is located on the western coast of the country. It boasts an incredible, awe inspiring vista, sturdy masonry and a sheer cliffside backing making it nearly impregnable. That’s the idea anyway. Within reside the real reason you’d have to be a complete idiot to try taking the fortress. In every nook and cranny, and a several lengths of floor there have been traps set up to deter anything from rival assassins to a legion of soldiers. We’re very serious about security here, and the newbies get to learn the ropes the hard way. Or die in the attempt. Oy! I keep going off on bunny trails. Gonna have a den of them before too long. Where was I...oh yes! More on the exterior, it’s been designed to be nearly smooth stone, but for the overachiever, such as myself, it has perfectly positioned hand and footholds all along its surface. Some require a risky leap to access the next fingers’ purchase, but it’s all good training. Most of my fellow members prefer using normal means of conveyance when walking about at home however, which leads me to discuss the fabulous furnishings comprising the interior. Really though, it’s a bit excessive. One thing to tastefully decorate one’s home, and quite another to lavish it in the exorbitant frippery stolen or demanded as tribute. To each their own...? Starting with the floors, there’s little consistency dictating the overlay above stone. Once you’ve walked past the imposing, ginormous wooden double doors inlaid with black wrought iron depicting creatures in terrifying distress, the stone gives way to black marble. To those new to the fortress, it feels as though the structure has come to life and will be consuming you in its ebony maw. Further in, things get weird. There’s not really any rhyme or reason to it, far as I can tell. It’s as though a dozen people were given free reign to design varying portions of the fortress and each had a different look in mind. Some floors were wooden, cherry, mahogany, birch, and so on. The main meeting hall where the council gathered and punishments were decided upon - and sometimes carried out - was tiled in an intricate mosaic. The absolute worst to get blood out from between the pieces. Probably just a side benefit though. Rooms in one wing were covered by luscious, intricately woven rugs, in another, a different kind of marble. Animal furs, things I’d like to think were beast’s tanned hides, and granite were also popular. Saw one floor topped with gold, but they didn’t let anyone walk on it. You know I had to get at least a toe touching it...once. Didn’t get caught or I’d probably be missing the whole foot with how crazy they are about it. The walls were all stone. Strewn with weird paintings and tapestries whose subject content covered everything from the gruesome to the bizarre, but no wood paneling or tile accents. Personally I think all the fabric is meant to absorb the sounds of screaming. Gotta get sleep sometime. Then there’s plenty they’ve haphazardly throw around on the floors and along the hallways. Hey—don’t touch anything! Vases, tapestries, candelabra, clocks, figurines, they weren’t there just for show. A few thieves have been lured in with rumors of the extravagance sitting somewhat unattended. The poor saps have provided unwitting entertainment and test subjects for new traps the assassins have wished to experiment with. I’ve probably gone on long enough now. You can imagine the rest, yeah? The Citadel, an inspired name, I know, houses all of us in the Assassin’s League. There are rooms of varying sizes to sleep in, sections for lab work, alchemy; dungeons beneath and places for a person to go where they’ll never be heard from again. Winding passageways, hidden escape routes, a library, and even the odd greenhouse. All in all a disturbing domicile in which to live, but you know what they say. There’s no place like home.

((Photo is of the San Marino Castle))

#rapscallion #assassin #writing #oc rp #oc #medieval #citadel

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spidcr-man · 6 years

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shopping ↬ t.h

not my gif

summary: shopping with tom can be a hassle sometimes pairing: tom holland x reader notes: hello! i’m back with a little hc because WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS! thank you so much! please feel free to request things or come swing by my asks here. lots of love warnings: literally none (i don’t even think there’s swearing)

grocery shopping

tom hates going grocery shopping

if he went shopping by himself, his cart would be ¾ filled with cartons of beer and ¼ of the things you two actually needed, and maybe not even that

when he goes by himself it’s either because you’re busy with work or not in town, and it’s a disaster

he tends to go a little a lot overboard

he’s one of those people who goes to the store on an empty stomach so he ends up buying a TON of food

“i’m not sure how much we needed for i got 3 packs of grapes” or your favorite, “there was a sale!”

when you’re home, you pretty much have to beg him to go to the store with you

“babe we need to go to the store”

“hmm okay, what time are you going?”

“don’t you mean what time are WE going?”

“nope.”

TOM LOVES TO DRIVE SO YOU GIVE HIM THE INCENTIVE THAT IF HE GOES WITH YOU THEN HE GETS TO DRIVE, which really only works half of the time

in all honesty, he would be perfectly fine with not having to step foot within a grocery store

you swear he’s like a child when it comes to shopping

he probably stands on the front of the cart if the store isn't busy, just to get you to laugh

“are we done yet?”

“not yet, we need three more items.”

A LOT OF BORED groaning because he definitely didn't want to spend his saturday afternoon in the market, looking at vegetables

tom is not brand specific at all when shopping

let’s say you need coffee creamer. naturally, you’d look for the brand you like, making sure the store carried it before you even thought about picking out a different brand. well, tom would just throw in a random creamer and call it a day.

he doesn't take time to read labels or brands, he gets what he needs so he can get out

pet shopping / shopping for tessa

this is completely different from shopping for tessa

when it comes to tom’s beloved dog, he needs to make sure everything is 10000% safe for her

this means double-checking food ingredients, warnings, and even reviews

he just wants to make sure she’s the happiest staffy out there, and honestly, he’s doing a pretty good job

tom pretty much-collected superhero costumes for tessa

it started out as a little jokes because as we all know, he’s spider-man

he just came in one day with a bag of dog food and a spider-man costume in hand

at first, you thought it was super duper cute, but now that it’s becoming somewhat of a collection, you were running out of space to put everything

“love, where’s tessa’s thor hammer?”

“check the three bottom drawers of our dresser.”

that’s right. three drawers.

tom’s obvious favorite is the spider-man costume he had gotten for her

the two of you spoil her with new toys

everytime you are both out together, you always find a way to bring up tessa

“look babe, a squeaking burger!”

“ah! tess would be absolutely thrilled”

you guys probably spend more on tessa than yourselves

furniture shopping

much like grocery shopping, house decor/furniture shopping is not one of tom’s favorite things to do

however, it definitely rated higher on his things to do list than taking a trip to the market

even though it’s not his favorite, the two of you find ways to have fun

his favorite part is testing out the mattresses and sample beds even though you’re not supposed to lay on them

“come cuddle with me, darling”

a lot of shaking your head jokingly because your mans is a literal child

imagine going to ikea with tom

you two would get lost in a matter of seconds

but i honestly feel like tom’s flat came directly from an ikea room set because boy can’t decorate for himself

if he did, he would have everything spider-man themed

i’m talking sheets, lamp shades, pillow cases, towels and everything in between

y’all know i’m right, don’t even try to fight me on this one

i feel like tom genuinely has a good eye for what’s comfortable??

it might not be the cutest furniture you’ve ever seen, but it sure is comfortable

clothes shopping

shopping for clothes is one of tom’s favorite things to do

he loves watching you try things on

he definitely has an eye for fashion

tom secretly kinda hates when you ask him to go shopping with you because that means you want to wear something other than his clothes

and he LOVES the way you look in his clothes

even when the two of you are shopping, he tries to convince to continue to wear his clothes

“okay but babe, those jeans paired with my yellow hoodie would look really nice — just saying”

if you let him, he’d spoil you with designer clothing

prepare for a lot of compliments

we love a mans who appreciates fashion

besides shopping for you, tom loves shopping for himself

and even though he loves watching you try clothes on, he LOVES trying on clothes for you

you definitely have to convince him to buy the things he really wants

“i don’t know about this jacket? what do you think, darling?”

“i think you look HOT”

you’re not even quiet about how good he looks

i mean hot holy hell he LOOKED SO GOOD BITCH

tom also really likes to look at watches

he learned from rdj, that a watch is one of the most important accessories someone could ever sport

even when clothes shopping, he will find himself in the toys department somehow

he has a problem when it comes to buying spider-man memorabilia and has WAY TOO MANY figurines of his own character

every time you go out, he finds another to his growing collection

him slyly holding the toy behind his back for the duration of the shopping trip and then slowly putting it on the checkout aisle

and at this point it’s already too late to tell him no

BUT LET’S BE REAL

TOM PRETTY MUCH JUST LIKES SPENDING TIME WITH YOU SO IF THAT MEANS ANY TYPE OF SHOPPING, HE’LL PROBABLY END UP DOING IT!

permanent tag list: @embrace-themagic

(if you’d like to be tagged in future posts, message me here!)

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general-nion · 6 years

Text

The General And Her Hostess

I wait a few moments after that woman, Geneva, left the room. A few cursory glances around the room I’m in give no signs of threat or ambush. If anything the entire place is sickeningly…home-y. The walls are painted an off white while similarly soft decor make up the majority of the room. The curtains to the window are lace and tied back with ribbons while one wall boasts a delicately designed golden filigree mounted to it.

Is this hell?

Throwing back the covers causes me to grimace at the stiffness in my right shoulder. Can’t be dead if I’m registering something so mundane.

Catching sight of a full length mirror helps me manage to force myself to my feet so I can finally get a better look at the full damage I’ve taken.

Three days. She said I had been unconscious for three days and It showed.

Stitches hold my skin together in a handful of places, but the most noticeable is a wound that stretches an honest 5 inches across my left hip- Wait a minute.

What in the hell am I wearing?

My reflection shows my clear disgust at the cotton shorts I’ve been dressed in that are patterned with, what? Are those cupcakes? Oh for the love of-! Even the tank top has a matching emblem across the chest.

All of this paired with my unruly hair being successfully brushed back into a ponytail causes me to appear almost adolescent. If it wasn’t for hard earned muscle definition and the multiple stitched and bandaged wounds I’m sure I could almost pass for some sort of civilian. Horrible.

Embarrassment fuels my speed so I can grab the door to open it. That woman had a lot of explaining to do! I led armies! Destroyed civilizations! I would not be dressed in such a manner-

My rage is silenced with a crack! As the door is ripped from its hinges and stands haphazardly from the grip I still have on its handle.

...gravity is also broken here. Terrific. I hate this planet.

“Sugar are you alright- What the hell have you done to my door?!”, the red head comes running around the corner but stops dead in her tracks to see the door in my grasp.

“What did I do?! What did you do?! Where is my armor? I demand you return it to me at once! I will not suffer another minute in this idiotic clothing!”, I toss the door to the side, not caring as it crashes halfway through the wall it collided with.

“Your armor, much like my door and now my wall, is a bunch of busted junk!”, she looks angry but then takes a deep breath and seems to visibly deflate, “Look, I couldn’t let ya lay around in that armor. Especially since most of what was missin’ from it was found IN ya when the Doc��s fixed ya up. If you don’t like the pajamas then I’m sure I can find you something else, but for now, Dinner is gonna get cold if you keep rippin’ doors off their hinges.”

“You should watch the way you speak to me, woman. For your own health.”, cupcakes be damned. I was not going to be talked to like a child!

“Did I miss somethin’? Cause I’m not the one who had to be dug outta crater or who cried in her sleep.”, her hands rest on her hips and she fixes me with an unimpressed look.

I just blink. She’s an idiot. She has to be. I don’t even need a scouter to tell she has next to no power level but even without any strength she should be able to tell that talking in such a way could warrant that I kill her.

“You should be a bit more grateful, Sugar. You could have died.”

“You should have let me.”, My tone causes a frown to fall on her face before she takes yet another very deep breath.

“Doubt that Frieza fellow would have appreciated that very much.”

“He- what?! What are you talking about?”, words fail me. Did I miss something? Is she actually a threat? Have I been lured into some kind of fake hospitality?

“Frieza? Odd name if ya ask me, but the way you kept sobbin’ like a baby and sayin’ his name I imagine whoever he is wouldn’t like it if I let you die.”

“You don’t know him. And you don’t know me.”

“Still helped ya, didn’t I?”

“...you mentioned dinner?”

Thankfully her whole face brightened and she turned to lead me toward where we would be eating. Last thing I wanted to do was rehash any of THAT with this odd woman.

And luckily she opted to remain quiet while we ate. Though I would grant her one impressive talent. She could cook. The last thing I expected was for such an extensive meal to be ready on the table.

Bowls filled with rice, varieties of meat stuffed dumplings, vegetables, and some kind of broth were all set across the table with an admirable eye to detail.

My mouth began to water and I was struck with how absolutely starved I was. I had forgotten to check the date when I was forced from Hypersleep so there was no telling how long the nutrients from the Cryopod had kept me sustained.

My face must have give away my eagerness because that woman just smiled and gestures toward the food, “Help yourself. If you’re still hungry after this I can always whip up some more!”

I barely spared her a glance before I dashed to a seat and started piling a plate high of food. Caution to the wind. She could be poisoning me right now, but my stomach and energy reserves couldn’t care less at the given moment.

It took no time on my part to clear the entire table, especially since halfway through it the woman brought out a plate of rolls that made it child’s play to eat every dripping.

My manners were probably absolute shit during this but it was mouth watering. All of it. Not a single thing was over done or underwhelming. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps that woman was some form of angel. Maybe I wasn’t sent to hell due to some ironic mix up that put me in Heaven.

I smacked my lips in satisfaction and leaned back in the seat, “Ah, my apologies. Did I eat everything?”

“Oh don’t you fret about it, doll! I had already eaten before you woke up.”, she smiles and my suspicions that she wasn’t an actual mortal were slowly being confirmed.

“Then what were you doing in the kitchen while I ate?”

A ding echoed from the kitchen the moment I finished that sentence and Geneva jumped to her feet in a graceful flourish, “You’ll see! Sit tight!”

Before I could even think to question her sudden rush she was to and back from the kitchen in the blink of an eye with something covered with a piece of cloth in both of her hands.

A delightfully sugary scent filled my nose and to my embarrassment I felt my nose actually twitching at the smell. On instinct and gluttonous instinct I began to rise my seat to get a better look at what she held.

“What in the world is that?”

“Figured you’d have room for dessert! So I went ahead and threw together a lil’ somethin’.”

The plate was set in front of me and I sat back down while she pulled the cloth off of whatever pastry she had made.

“Hope ya like cherry pie, doll!”

“...perhaps I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

That was the last she was able to get out of me before I ravenously dug into the Pie laid before me.

Heavenly. Delightful. Wonderful.

I’d always possessed a sweet tooth, but this? Oh this could easily spare the woman’s life.

Geneva seemed content to hum to herself while she worked around me to clear away the empty remains of dinner from the tabletop. I still questioned her full intent, but a lapse in suspicion could be allowed. Absolutely allowed.

My respite was short lived, however. The moment I finished that delectable pie she replaced it with some warm drink that smelled of cocoa and sat across from me.

“So I think we can both agree that ya owe me some sort of explanation. And, ya know, your name? I can’t keep subbing in pet names forever.”

I examined the way she sat for just a moment. She wasn’t tensed and she held no malice in her eyes. Just genuine concern mixed with curiosity.

“Nion. My name is Nion.”, I followed her lead and relaxed back against the chair, “I am a First Class Saiyan from the Planet Vegeta. I have been thrown from grace and had the misfortune to have the highest probability of survival to land on your property.”

Gold eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“So...you’re like, an alien or somethin’? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?”

Ah, that’s right. This planet hasn’t had alien contact, has it?

“Exactly.”

“Saiyan...is that what your people are called?”

“Yes. We are a proud race of warriors that thrive in blood baths and domination. A glorious people that were granted the chance to expand amongst the stars.”, pride begins to swell in my chest as I become reminiscent. I’d had a handful of good friends amongst my people. Less than the enemies among them I had made though. Would I ever see them again, I wonder?

“Um...not to sound incredibly ignorant, but y’all ain’t comin’ to take over…here, are ya?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”, I scoff, “Your planet holds next to no value on the market. I am here because I had no other choice.”

Geneva sips from her drink and hums softly, “You ran away from something.”

“...you’re perceptive.”

“Oh don’t look so surprised! I’m not just a nice figure and a pretty face. I make a livin’ off of figuring’ out what makes people hurt on the inside.”, she tilts her head a bit and looks me over, “You’re heartbroken, alone, and scared. You did somethin’ you didn’t wanna, hurt someone you didn’t wanna, and now ya don’t have anyway to move on past it.”

I’m stunned to silence. And my mind is changed. Hell. I’m in hell and this Geneva who bakes pies and cares for others is an evil entity sent to personally torture me.

“Got it right on the head, didn’t I?”, her cup is set on the table with a soft clink, “I’m sorry you had to go through whatever you did, but I do want you to know you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. Can’t imagine it’d be easy for a literal alien to be integrated into society without some kind of help.”

“I don’t need your help.”, I spit it out before I can think and my teeth bare in a snarl, “You’ve done all of this foolishness without anyone asking you too and you’ve stuck your nose into my business with absolutely no right to do so.”

“You didn’t have to ask me to help you, Nion.”, how dare she look so unaffected by my hostility, “If you don’t want my help you can dig through the clothes here till you find something you like and then you can up and leave. Stay the night if you feel the need.”

She shrugs so casually, “I can’t make ya do nothin’ ya don’t want to, Sugar. Someone else in your life can, and did, but I can’t and won’t. You make your own decisions and live your own life.”

Pushing her chair back she rises from the table and grabs her cup, “It’s late and I’ll be headin’ to bed. Stay, leave, destroy it all, it’s not my place to stop you. If ya need my help, though, all ya gotta do is ask.”

Geneva leaves me alone in the dining room with only the warm drink to sit with me. I would not be guilted into accepting her help. I wouldn’t.

Frustrated I kick my own chair back and pace over to the window that looks over the yard I crash landed in. The crater left from the impact was rather impressive, but it would seem I caused a lot of damage as well.

A roll of my right shoulder proved that it was nearly healed. My earlier discomfort must have been stiff muscles.

I had caused a lot of damage, hadn’t I?

It took no time to find some simple dark loose fitting pants and a jacket that would cover the atrocious top I was wearing and my bandaging. The back door makes no sound as I flick the lock and exit the house. Nothing stirs when I go soaring into the night air.

________________________________________

Geneva expected to woken up by her alarm clock. Not by whatever in God’s name that horrible noise was. It sounded like a lawnmower was directly outside her house. Which was impossible because she specifically paid her lawn maintenance workers to work when she WASN’T asleep.

She throws on a sheer house coat with fur trimmings before she leaves her room and follows the noise to her backyard.

“What the hell is goin’ on out...here…”, she falls silent in shock at the sight before her.

That crater that had been in her yard was now completely gone. As in, never happened gone. In its place was a lovely green lawn. Complete with a new flower bed that bordered around a walkway that led to a fully functioning three tiered fountain.

“I see you’ve finally chosen to wake up.”

Geneva jerks to the left to see me kneeling in front of the control panel to the fountain I had installed into the side of her home.

“What did- when did...what is this?”, her surprise is funny and I snicker before pushing myself to stand.

“It’s a thank you, and a sort of apology for destroying your yard.”, I notice her eyes dart back to the fountain and I huff, “The fountain was too much, wasn’t it? I thought it may be, but you have so much wasted space back here I figured it would be a nice place holder…”

Geneva gapes and doesn’t say anything and now I’m starting to feel ridiculous. “I should have left it at just filling the crater and laying the new sod. This is too much and you don’t like it. I can remove it if you don’t like it-“

“This is the bee’s knees!”, I’m nearly thrown off my feet when she throws her arms around me, but my surprise is short lived by the panicked Yelp she makes.

On reflex I must have wrenched her arms back behind her to subdue her attack...er…her gratitude.

I let go of her immediately and grimace as I try to right her housecoat, “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have...this is all stupid. I’ve made this worse haven’t I?”

To her credit she collects herself quickly and waved off my concern, “No no! Warrior race. I remember. Didn’t think it out too clearly.”

She smiles and turns back to the work I’ve done, “This is amazing, Nion! Absolutely amazing! You didn’t have to do any of this!”, her eyes twinkle in mirth, “Didn’t have to stay either.”

I clear my throat and reflexively square my posture, “I assure you it wasn’t any trouble. The least I could do for your help during my predicament. Though...you do like it?”

“Adore it. An amazing job!”, she giggles like a giddy child, “Now let’s go back inside! I’ll make some coffee an’ some breakfast! Then you can tell me where you got all of this stuff.”

“Ah, no need to wait that long. I took it.”, I grin cheekily at her shocked expression, “I did not steal anything. You humans seem unable to do many simple tasks. I was told that unloading approximately three tons of inventory takes hours for you people. Completing such a chore in half an hour is apparently rewarded with whatever I felt I needed for this endeavor.”

“Uh Huh…”, I follow behind her back into her home, “Welp! Then I guess you have my thanks, sugar! And I guess you’ll be stickin’ around a little longer?”

“I suppose. I’ve yet to find a better prospect.”

“Glad to hear it.”

#frieza #lord frieza #dbz #frieza fanfiction #dbz fanfiction

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rinskiroo · 7 years

Text

The Spaces Between: Port Nowhere

At least on Port Nowhere he could ditch the disguise and get a decent haircut and shave. He paid his tab at the barber and slipped his red jacket back on and headed back out onto the main concourse.

The madame of this haven of criminals had built herself a small empire on the once dilapidated station. Not only had it become a hub of shipping illegal goods, information brokering, and money laundering, it had grown into its own little pirate town complete with restaurants, a school, holo-game arcade, and a few elected officials to keep the place running smoothly (and maintain at least the veneer of legality). There were, of course, all the things less-than-reputable types preferred as well: cantinas, gambling halls, and a brothel.

“Theron Shan, I knew it was only a matter of time before you darkened my door.”

He had been sitting alone, nursing a scotch and enjoying the view, before a supple figure with a smooth drawl took up residence in his lap.

“Captain, you’re looking as colorful as ever,” Theron said. She had long multi-colored locks, twisting and curling together into intricate designs and flowing clothing of rich fabrics that left little to the imagination. Even draped in the fancy cloth, he could still feel the outline of the blaster strapped to her thigh. “I hear it’s Mrs. Riggs now, though.”

“Surprise, surprise, SIS information is wrong. Baby boy took my name, sugar,” she said as her full lips curled into a smirk. Her fingers ran through his now short hair and then along his cheek and jaw. “You see Ryaamis for this? He does good work.”

Theron grinned and nodded. “Best shave I’ve had in months.”

“Mmhmm.” She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss just to the corner of his lips before moving from his lap and sitting in the chair across from him. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a half-dressed young man with a plate and a waiting drink. Everything that surrounded her was an over-the-top display of her wealth that even oligarchs and nobles would cringe at. “Little bird told me you’ve gone off the deep end. Seeing conspiracies everywhere. Think even the Republic brass have been infiltrated by a thousand-year-old ghost.”

“Only about three-fifty or so. Still a young guy.”

Te’Jal Starfire might have played dumb, acted hard of hearing, pretended not to know a rancor from a lothcat, but Theron knew it was (mostly) an act. If the way the once lousy smuggler seemed to manage her riches well enough to afford her excessive eccentricities was any indication, she was a hell of a lot smarter than most gave her credit for. It had made her a valuable asset to the Republic, as well as a thorn in their side. Since setting up her own town however, she’d stayed out of galactic politics.

“Why are you here, Theron? I’d like to think it’s to see me, but the way you’re swirling that drink and staring at the stars like a sad puppy—someone break your heart, sugar?”

Theron chuckled and stared down at his drink before pushing it away. “No, nothing like that. You know me, I torpedoed it before it even had a chance to start.”

“Typical.” She smiled again and took a long drink from her glass. “You should meet my sister. She’s coming in later—I think you’d like her. She’s like you, her own made-up moral code that gets her into trouble with her superiors. Fun, too, once you get a few drinks in her.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” It seemed the SIS files were indeed lacking, or perhaps she’d manged to have some of them purged. He wouldn’t put it past her.

“Lot you don’t know about me, spy-boy.” She gave him a wink before finishing her drink.

Theron polished off his as well before he got to the real reason he’d made the trip out to the pirate station. If she didn’t like his request, there was a good chance he’d be booted out the nearest airlock. “I actually want to talk to your brother.”

Te’Jal’s face went from the light, flirtatious glances to a frown and a glare. “He doesn’t take requests. ‘Specially not from SIS. Not after what y’all did to him. What? You think I don’t know about that?”

“I wasn’t on that op, TJ. I wouldn’t have let it go down like that.”

“You think that makes it any better?” Her words were harsh and sharp. Even though she was the younger sister, she had a protective streak a kilometer wide for anyone in her family, blood or found. Plenty of unfortunate people had learned that the hard way.

Theron sighed. “I can pay.”

She softened slightly at the promise of credits. “Tell you what, spy-boy. You make my sister laugh, I’ll give you a lead—a small lead.”

“Really?” It was an utterance of disbelief and not gratitude. Though he should have expected that sort of unconventional trade from her.

“You know how favors work around here, sugar.” The sultry smile returned as she stood up and sauntered up behind him. Her arms draped over his shoulders and she planted another kiss on him, this time just below his ear. “You gotta give some to get some.”

“I know it’s Port Nowhere, but let’s make sure to get all our supplies on board before we’re too drunk to remember that this is only a layover. Two days, max.” Jas looked each of her crew in the eyes as she gave her responsibility speech. Not that she would blame them if they slipped and let off some steam before all the tasks were done. All she wanted to do was slide into one of the hot baths. They’d been cramped on the Defender for months, zipping from crisis to crisis—nothing too strenuous, but they’d all gotten a bit claustrophobic in the confined space.

“I got those massage appointments for tomorrow morning,” she called after Kira as the crew dispersed. “Don’t sleep in.”

“You better be there, Master, or I’m taking both for myself. Back to back. With that cute Mirialan.”

Jas grinned and shook her head as she trotted down the ramp off the ship. It was only two days, but she was going to cram in as much relaxation and down-time as possible. Scourge was the only one not enthusiastic about their pit-stop, but Jas had promised to carve out some time where they could do some meditation and discuss more about Revan.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” the shorter human with the colorful hair wrapped her arms around Jas and squeezed her fiercely. “I missed you!”

Jas returned the affectionate embrace and kissed her on the cheek. “You as well. How’s Corso? And Guss?”

“Corso’s good—out overseeing some merchandise right now. Guss is, you know, Guss.”

“You’ll tell him I stopped by? And that the invitation is still open?”

Te’Jal shrugged her shoulders with a bit of a wince. “I’ll let him know.”

Jas liked Te’Jal’s Mon Calamari friend. Guss had once been a Jedi Padawan, not a very good one, but Jas was never one to give up on people. He was a snarky swindler, but at least now he was using his gifts with the Force to assist the people of Port Nowhere. Despite its illegal dealings, they often leaned towards assisting the Republic when necessary.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Te’Jal grabbed Jas’ arm and pulled her further into the cantina—the most crowded of the several on the station.

Jas tried to resist, tried to tell her friend she really wasn’t in the mood for loud conversation and the bottomless glasses. Te’Jal had a way of making people feel guilty. It was like her super power to convince people to do what she wanted. That, and making them think it was their idea.

“This is what my sort of people call networking, Jedi.”

“In a brothel?”

“Sometimes, the less clothing, the better deal you can make.” She shot her back a knowing wink and continued pulling her hand further through the crowd. They all parted for Te’Jal like she was a queen—and she was, to them. Even if Jas disliked many of her methods, she was proud of her old friend. Te’Jal pulled her up to the semi-private lounge that overlooked the dancing men and women and the bustle below, right into the ambush.

“There he is—I want to introduce you to my good friend, Theron Shan.”

The grin of being with an old friend and the giddy mood of the station fell away, replaced by the stoic mask of the Jedi Knight she was supposed to be. Quietly, she wondered if he had followed her out here, or if the Force found it amusing to intertwine their paths so frequently. There would be no reason for him to follow her, unless there was new information—

“Theron, this is my sister that I was telling you about. Jasati, Jedi Master, Knight of the Republic, Hero of Tython, etcetera, etcetera.”

“What? I don’t get introduced by all my titles? I’m hurt, Captain.” He held out his hand towards her and for a moment, she just stared at it.

“Oh, right, you’re a spy. Theron Shan and I have met, TJ.” It had taken her a second to figure out why he was pretending he didn’t know her—that they hadn’t attacked Korriban and saved Tython together. And had once had a lovely walk around Carrick Station together that she still thought about even after he had been a huge ass on Manaan. And then again on Oseon. “Did you set this up?”

“Me?” Theron looked surprised at the suggestion. His hand dropped awkwardly back to his side. “I was just here chasing a lead. I didn’t know you two were—how does that even work?”

“In the non-incestuous meaning of the word, sugar. Now, you two enjoy some drinks and the view. Our deal still stands, spy-boy.”

Jas had her hand over her face. This was not how she was expecting this evening to go. “Wait, what deal?”

“Can’t I just pay you for the information?”

“What information?”

Like the whirlwind she was, Te’Jal was gone—flitted off to schmooze some other patrons and left Theron and Jas with orders to enjoy a bottle of wine and “live a little.” Theron poured a couple of glasses and offered her one. She took it, but they sat in silence for several minutes. Jas leaned over the railing and watched the beings below while Theron lounged on one of the plush chairs. He figured they’d sit up here for an eternity of thirty or so minutes and then he’d have to come up with something else to offer the Queen of Port Nowhere in exchange for a conversation with the former Imperial spy.

He took a sip of his wine. Might as well enjoy the view.

Theron had first read her file when a young Jedi saved the Temple on Tython from an unhinged former Padawan. He had unintentionally followed her career—from super weapon to super weapon, thwarting gangs and Sith, saving those that had fallen by the wayside. He had approached her once, on Nar Shaddaa, and he always wondered if she remembered, but never asked. She was softer then, he thought as he looked at her now. No longer nearly as wide-eyed and there were lines starting to form on her face, though none of it detracted from her beauty. It served as a reminder that there was wisdom and strength in that pretty blue package.

“What titles?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts, and his staring.

“Hm?”

“Titles that Te’Jal neglected to list when she ‘introduced’ us.”

“I was voted ‘Most Likely to Accidentally Set Himself on Fire’ back at the Academy.”

She turned around to face him fully, her eyes squinting in confusion at him. “I don’t believe that’s a real thing.”

“After meeting your Padawan, I really thought sarcasm would be something in your toolbox. Or at least, a language you understood.”

She glanced down at the drink in her hands and then back up. Her shoulders shrugged slightly as she walked towards him and settled onto the ottoman in front of him. “I tend to believe people when they tell me things, Agent Shan. Especially things about themselves.”

“I’ve heard the Force is a useful lie detector.”

She was giving him that judgmental Jedi look—the way she stared at him with those unblinking violet eyes and her patient, even breathing. “It’s called trust, Theron.”

Ouch. He was pretty sure he needed to go find a medkit for that burn. He wondered how much of his pride it would cost him to just apologize. He should have realized she never would have outright killed people, even freakish experiments, who couldn’t defend themselves. With as much as he had followed her escapades, he knew she often chose to offer mercy to her enemies.

“I’m sorry.” And he meant it. He let down those walls just enough so she would know. He was truly contrite.

Jas blinked and shifted slightly in her seat. “For what exactly? Because you said—”

“I would do almost anything to keep the Republic ahead in the arms race with the Empire, but I shouldn’t have put it on you. And I shouldn’t have snapped at you in the middle of a mission.”

“And Oseon?”

Theron ducked his head and laughed lightly. “Yeah, that, too. Being in hiding always puts me in a bad mood.”

He felt a clink against his wine glass as she pressed hers against it. “I should also apologize for being so annoyed with you.”

“Nah, I deserved it.” He grinned as he looked back up at her. “Here’s to everyone makes mistakes. Even Jedi.”

“Rogue SIS agents especially.”

“That’s the truth,” Theron agreed as they both took drinks from their glasses.

“So what’s this information you’re trying to get?”

“The Captain knows someone who might have some information from inside the Empire—maybe even some Revanite contacts.”

“Okay, and what does she want?”

“You to laugh.”

Jas paused, the glass just millimeters away from her lips as she went for another sip. “What? Why?”

His shoulders shrugged. “Have you been down lately?”

She looked almost uncomfortable at the question. “No, I’m fine.

It wasn’t very convincing. Theron discovered what a terrible liar she was. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand, the way he had on Carrick Station. Find another terrible pretense to wrap his fingers around hers and drag her around on another long, meandering, totally pointless walk. But he had been reminded, quite readily, that she was a Jedi, and that she took it quite seriously. No matter what his gut told him about how close she had walked next to him, or how she had squeezed his hand back. Maybe it had been in his head the way she’d looked at him after Tython.

“Tell me your best joke,” she said, again pulling him from his wandering thoughts.

“A joke?”

“You’re supposed to make me laugh. Go on.”

“O…kay… Where do spies sleep?”

“I don’t know, Agent Shan. Where do they sleep?”

“Undercover.”

She groaned and shook her head. “That’s terrible.”

“I know. Oh, how about this: How do you get down from a bantha?”

She had an amused grin on her face as she shrugged her shoulders.

“You don’t, you get it from a goose.”

“That’s—jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“It is funny!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

A small snort escaped her and she covered her face to try and stop the laughter she was trying to hold back. “Because it’s so bad!”

[AO3] [Masterlist]

#fanfiction #swtor #shadow of revan #theron shan #jedi knight #smuggler #jasati #te'jal #theron x jas #i guess when i don't stick to prompts i get long winded

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