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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

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Stay with me - [Hotch x Reader]

Request prompt: Heyyyyy I was wandering if you still took requests cause I’ve been dying to have this written. I’m thinking something about reader being youngest of the bunch at BAU and after a really intense and scary case everyone is kinda shook and in the jet reader can’t stop sobbing by herself in the back and hotch goes and comforts her and when they get home he goes with her home and holds her in her sleep and then they make love at like 3-4 am. I just need details and a lot of feels. I hope you’ll do it

Summary: After a tragic loss that rocks the entire team, Reader turns to her unit chief for comfort.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Overwhelmingly angst. then some smut and fluff.

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: Angst, mentions of torture suffered by a victim. Normal Criminal minds stuff. Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected sex.

A/n: I hope this is what you had in mind, Anon. This request just jumped out at me. This is set during season 9.

-- Stay with me --

stay is a sensitive word. we wear who stayed and who left in our skin forever.

- Nayyirah Waheed

-- September 2, 2013 --

Some cases stick with you long after you board the jet home. Some cases crawl inside your skin and hollow you out. Some cases become a part of you.

The team had been called to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to help catch a serial killer. I had only been a member of the BAU for 4 months, so it wasn’t uncommon for cases to still rattle me. Rossi said that I’d develop a thicker skin over time.

But this case seemed to even rattle him.

Over the past 15 years, on the same day every year, a woman’s body was found in a public place. She had been violently assaulted and tortured. The local M.E. always said the torture took place over the span of at least 10 months.

I felt my stomach roll when I read over the case file. I don’t think there was a form of pain he didn’t inflict on these women.

We had his prints; we had his DNA. None of that mattered, this man was a ghost.

September 1st had been fast approaching, and the local police knew they most likely couldn’t save the woman that had already spent the last several months with him. One deputy said that killing the woman would be a mercy, because “who could ever recover from that.”

We spent a week in Oklahoma; we started at the very beginning. I poured over the lives of 15 women, praying that maybe I could help us find 16 in time, praying I could save 17 before he ever touched her.

-- August 30, 2013 –

“Morgan,” Hotch said, his eyes scanning over the document in front of him. “I want you and y/n to interview Heather Pruitt’s brother.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve already talked to him, Hotch. He has an alibi. Do you think he knows something else?”

The unit chief nodded. “Heather was our first victim. She was important to the unsub.”

“Probably the most important,” Rossi chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Understanding why Heather was so special to him is how we catch him.”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” he trailed off. “Are you sure y/n is up for this?” He turned to me; hands raised. “No offense, it’s just that…”

“I’m young,” I finished for him. Dr. Spencer Reid was the youngest person to ever join the BAU…and I was the second. I was 25 years old. The closest person in age to me was the resident genius, Dr. Reid, who was almost 32. I had earned my spot in the team, but I was no Spencer.

Morgan nodded, not looking abashed in the slightest. “Maybe Blake would be a better choice, Hotch.”

His dark eyes ran over me, considering Morgan’s words. “I’m sending her in because she’s so young. People don’t perceive her as a threat.”

“They never saw me as one,” Spencer said softly.

JJ laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re still not a threat, Spence.”

-- August 31, 2013 –

“Mr. Pruitt,” I said brightly, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us.”

The older man nodded, meeting my gaze evenly. “Anything to help you catch this son of a bitch.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Rachel, darlin’, why don’t you wait right here? I don’t want you to have to…hear about what happened to my sister.”

The woman, Rachel, was small and pale. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “Of course,” she said softly, pressing a kiss against David Pruitt’s mouth.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?" I asked her.

“No,” she responded meekly. “I’m fine.”

I looked right into her eyes and smiled warmly at her before I turned away to follow Morgan and Mr. Pruitt into the interview room.

-- September 1, 2013 –

The entire team was standing around the precinct waiting for the call. JJ was gripping her cup of coffee tightly. Reid was staring at a map that was taped on the evidence board. Morgan was looking down at his phone while he talked to Blake. Hotch and Rossi were standing near the Sherriff of Broken Arrow.

We hadn’t stopped him. If he held to pattern, then victim 16 was already gone, and we’d be getting a call about her body soon.

I felt numb. I felt like I had missed something.

The shrill ringing of a phone made all of us tense up, every head in the precinct immediately turning to the receptionist at the front of the room. She spoke for a few moments before she hung up, giving the sheriff a grim nod. “She’s at the park off 6th street, Bruce.”

We all sprang into action, racing out the door to our vehicles. Morgan drove one SUV, Hotch drove the other. We knew we were too late for this girl, but maybe, just maybe, if we got there quick enough and the crime scene was fresh enough, we could find something.

The local police beat us there by a few minutes. Hotch hadn’t even parked before I was opening the door.

I couldn’t explain it then, but I had a feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was a darkness I couldn’t pinpoint, the sort of thing that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

She was on a park bench, her eyes wide and unseeing. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan sighed out before he turned and marched back to his SUV.

I felt someone’s hands grip my shoulders. “Y/l/n,” Hotch said gently. “I know, but we have to go. He’s revealed himself now. He’s going to try to run.”

And I knew he was right, so I bottled my feelings up as I ran towards the SUVs. We had to find David Pruitt before he left town.

He was our unsub. He killed his sister 16 years ago…and we were certain of that because the 16th victim was his girlfriend.

The same girlfriend that was within our reach yesterday. She was being tortured by this animal…and we had let her go home with him.

-- September 2, 2013 –

The mood on the jet felt heavy. No one was speaking, no one had said much of anything since we found Mary Beth in the park yesterday morning.

Her name wasn’t even Rachel. David Pruitt had to take everything from his victims, including their names. He broke her so badly that not only did she not scream for help in the middle of a police station, she probably couldn’t even remember her own name.

I couldn’t read the entire autopsy report. Rossi and Morgan went to the morgue to speak with the M.E.

Rossi said he was surprised she was even able to stand the day we saw her.

And that was the hardest thing of all. We fucking saw her.

I wasn’t quite sure how the rest of the team managed to keep their emotions so compartmentalized. I saw how this was bothering each of them, but none of them seemed close to breaking.

Not like I was.

I just kept seeing her face over and over again. Her wide eyes, her polite smile. The pictures of her broken body. How different her eyes looked when she was on the park bench. It was all on a loop in my mind.

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the very back, away from the rest of the team. I stared out the window, unseeing. How could I have missed it?

“Y/l/n,” a voice said softly. “Are you okay?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were slipping down my cheeks until I heard Hotch’s voice. I looked up at him. He was my unit chief, the strongest of any of us. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to break in front of, it was him.

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n.”

I just nodded. Please leave, please leave. If he walked away, maybe I could hold it together a little while longer.

But he didn’t leave. He knelt down beside me in the middle of the aisle. In the months since I joined the BAU, I had made sure to never get too close to SSA Hotchner. There was something about him that fascinated me…and I knew he was a good enough profiler to see it, because I wasn’t skilled enough to hide it.

This was the closest I'd ever physically been to him. I was close enough to notice that his eyes weren’t a flat shade of brown; they were a warm chocolate brown and he had freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his larger one. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. This is the job; we can’t save them all.”

“But I saw her,” I whispered, feeling the dam break inside of me. “I talked to her.”

Hotch must have realized I was already too far gone to hold myself together anymore. I just kept seeing her eyes, over and over and over.

He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. He led me into the back area near the restroom. There was a small countertop here, but most importantly, there was a curtain that could be pulled closed, giving us all the privacy anyone could get on this plane.

I stared up at him in bewilderment while he closed the curtain. By the very nature of the area and given how big he was, our bodies were much closer together than I had ever allowed.

“I know you won’t break down in front of everyone else,” he said quietly. “You still feel like you have something to prove. You don’t, but I understand why you feel that way. You’re a part of this team, y/n.”

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, holding on to the last threads of my composure.

“Now, I can leave you here and you can pull yourself together,” he continued. “Or I can stay with you.”

This was one of the reasons I hadn’t allowed myself to be near him. There was something in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at me that always made me feel so safe. He was always fierce with a scowl on his face; occasionally he’d surprise me with his dry humor.

I hadn’t known his eyes could look so soft and it pulled on something inside me.

“I was so close I could have touched her,” I whispered. “And he…he…” I broke off as the first sob ripped out of my throat. Mary Beth was 23 years old. She had a younger brother and two loving parents. Her best friend, Anna, wore Mary Beth’s favorite necklace around her neck. None of them had given up hope.

And I had let her go home with him to die.

I had to watch when her parents got the news that we were so close, but he broke her too badly, she never cried out for help.

I closed my eyes to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks, desperately trying to pull myself together.

My heart hurt so badly I barely reacted when Hotch’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. I just buried my face against his chest while he rubbed my back. I was taking the comfort he offered, even though I didn’t deserve it. I was vaguely aware of him whispering against my hair, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

I failed her.

It took a few minutes for my tears to slow. I was able to bottle my pain back up again and take a few breaths. My arms were trapped between our bodies and when I went to pull them free, Hotch started to release me, no doubt assuming I wanted to end our embrace.

I didn’t.

I took a step forward when he took one back, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shirt that I just realized was damp from my tears. “Is this okay?” I whispered.

He had frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around me again. “Of course, sweet girl.”

I was just so content to be in his arms that I didn’t even process the term of endearment. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry.”

I hummed against him, still so reluctant to let him go. “You smell nice, Hotch.”

He chuckled quietly. “Thanks. And given our current situation, you can call me Aaron.”

I nodded; my thoughts still somber. “I let her down. I let her go. I could have touched her.”

His hands kept rubbing over my back. “You’ve never let anyone down,” he murmured. “Not even for a single moment.”

Aaron didn’t feel like my boss when his arms were wrapped around me. He was just a man who held me for as long as I had needed before finally releasing me, offering me a small smile when I moved int the bathroom to try and fix my face.

I don’t know what he said to each team member, but none of them paid any attention to me when I walked out. They weren’t ignoring me, they just seemed unaware of what happened, even though I knew they weren’t.

Whatever he had done, I was immensely grateful.

It was just after 10 pm when the jet touched down in Quantico.

“Go home,” Hotch said as we all grabbed our go bags. “The paperwork can wait til tomorrow.”

Rossi clapped our unit chief on the shoulder. “This one was a hard one. I know it’s painful, but we can’t save them all.”

But why couldn’t I just save her? I thought.

When we were walking off the tarmac, Morgan spoke. “Kid, lemme give you a lift home. It’s not far.”

Reid’s brows drew together in confusion. “Yes, it is. You live on the other side of town.”

"Just let me do something nice for you, smartass."

Their banter almost pulled a smile from me, but I couldn’t. Everything still felt so heavy.

“What about you, y/l/n?” JJ asked.

It wasn’t a secret that I took the train like Reid did. I’d only lived in D.C. for the four months I’d been a member of the team. Reid didn’t drive because of car crash statistics; I didn’t drive because I hadn’t gotten around to getting a car.

“The train is still running. Which is probably good,” I muttered to her. “It’ll give me time to think.”

She just nodded, giving my arm a squeeze as we all walked into the bullpen to gather the things we had left before the case.

I stayed in the bullpen longer than everyone else. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I truly did. But I just…I couldn’t be brave right now.

“I know it’s not my place, but I really don’t want you to take the train home.”

My lips pulled into a smile then, even though I couldn’t bring myself to face him. “It’s no big deal, Hotch. I’m a full-grown FBI agent. I’ll be fine taking the train home.”

“You might be,” he conceded. “But I won’t be.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to stop my body from turning towards him.

Hotch stepped closer to me, looking slightly unsure. “I…I’ll be worried.”

His words felt important, and I realized the thought of him worrying bothered me.

He heaved out a great sigh, his eyes looked so tired. “Jack’s already in bed, Jessica is staying with him tonight. Please, let me take you home.”

How could I tell him no?

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. Hotch seemed to know where I lived without me having to tell him. He had turned the radio on in his SUV, but the volume was so low it was just background noise.

I watched the raindrops roll down the passenger side window and all I could think about was Mary Beth. I wonder if she liked the rain.

“Don’t do that.”

My entire body froze before I turned to look at the man in the car with me. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Y/n, you did all you could. This isn’t on you. We were all in that precinct. I offered her my hand when she left the station.” His hands were now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Aaron,” I whispered, reaching out to put my hand on his forearm.

“If you blame yourself, you’ll have to blame me too.”

Tears started to fill my eyes again. I didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t blame you.”

I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the building in front of us. I hadn’t even realized we had pulled into my apartment complex.

“Then you know why I can’t let you blame yourself.” He killed the engine and took his seatbelt off.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at me in confusion, like it should be obvious. “I’m walking you to your door.”

Oh. “Why?”

Aaron paused, considering his next words. “Because I can’t leave you yet.”

He was out of the car and opening my door before my brain could even process his words. I slid out beside him, clutching my jacket around myself. It didn’t help, the chill I felt was coming from inside of my body.

Aaron pulled my go-bag from the back seat then shrugged me off when I tried to take it from him.

Despite all the emotions I was feeling, I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Are you secretly a gentleman, Aaron Hotchner?”

He looked sheepish for a moment. My mean ass, always scowling FBI unit chief that intimidated almost everyone on a daily basis looked sheepish because I called him a gentleman.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he warned, shutting the car door.

I felt a tiny smile tug up the corners of my lips. The first smile I’d felt since…

Just like that, the guilt hit me again. How could I be smiling?

We had just reached my apartment door when a tiny sob ripped out of my throat. “Aaron…I can’t stop seeing what he did to her. She was in pain. And she-she fought back. She didn’t want to…and I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart don’t do that.” He dropped my go bag and wrapped his arms around me, once again offering me the comfort I didn't deserve.

The only time I had felt right in the past few days was when I was in this man’s arms. My question slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think better of it. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered against his chest.

I felt his body stiffen. Fuck. I pulled away from him, quickly wiping at my face. “I’m sorry, Hotch. You’ve got Jack and you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

My hands were shaking when I reached to pick up my go-bag from the floor.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained, his hand grabbing mine right before I touched my bag. “It’s not Jack, he went to be hours ago. But I am your supervisor, and I can’t take advantage of you.”

His words hung in the air, feeling almost as heavy as the pain in my chest. “The only time I feel anything good is when I’m with you, Aaron.”

My eyes were fixed on his bigger hand that engulfed mine, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I don’t think I could leave you now even if I wanted to,” he mumbled.

My keys shook when I unlocked the door and once we were inside my tiny apartment, the gravity of everything finally seemed to hit me.

"I can leave, y/n," he reminded me as if he could tell what I was thinking.

I licked my lips, looking around the room before I could look at him. “I want you to stay,” I pleaded, trying to summon every ounce of courage I had ever felt. “I know it’s not…I’m sure it breaks a million regulations and protocols. But…can you stay with me tonight? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

What I was asking him for was so much more complicated than just spending the night at my apartment. I think we both knew that if he stayed something was going to change.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

I was sitting up in my bed, picking at the threads of my comforter when Aaron got out of the shower. He’d insisted I shower first while he went to grab his go bag and call Jack’s aunt. I felt the energy around me shift the moment he stepped into the room.

“Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer him. "I don't know." I looked up, my eyes meeting his dark ones. "Can-can you stay with me? Just for a little while?"

For a moment I thought he might say no, but his shoulders dropped, and he jerked his head in a tight nod. “Of course.”

He came around to the right side of my bed, looking torn for a moment before I pulled the covers down, indicating I wanted him to get under. I laid my body down while he adjusted himself on to my bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit,” I mused, motioning to his t-shirt with a faded FBI logo and his flannel pajama pants.

He scoffed, pulling the covers up to his abdomen. “It’s a rare occurrence.” He had settled on his back, one of his arms bent behind his head, the other one resting on his abdomen.

“Aaron,” I breathed out. “Can I…will you…I don’t want to-“

“Hey,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “You can ask me anything, y/n.”

“Will you hold me?” I begged, my voice breaking in my effort to suppress my emotions.

My eyes were shut tight, so I didn’t see the look of agony that washed over Aaron’s face. I only felt his body shift closer to mine before his arms came around me again, bringing me flush against his side.

At that moment, even though I felt terrible about myself, I found some solace in the fact that a man like Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t be holding me like this if I were truly a monster.

His big hand ran up and down my back while my head lay on his chest; I was taking comfort from everything about him, his smell, the feel of him holding me, even the steady beating of his heart under my ear.

I made no move to pull away from him; it was selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Thank you for staying,” I whispered into the darkness. Right before I fell asleep, I think I felt his lips brush against my forehead.

Several hours later my eyes snapped open when my body jerked suddenly. The instant my eyes were open the nightmare was gone, I could barely remember any of it, not that I needed to. What else could it have been about?

“Hey,” a voice rasped out. “Are you okay?”

I realized I was still in Aaron’s arms. My head was still on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped around my body.

He had stayed with me.

“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare.”

He hummed in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Aaron’s arm tightened around me. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

My fingers traced nonsense patterns over his chest, my mind racing. I felt so incredibly young then. I was lost in a sea of guilt and despair, and my only anchor was Aaron Hotchner.

It was easier to ask him in the darkness of my bedroom. “Do you feel this too?” I whispered.

The stillness that overtook his body indicated he knew what I meant. “Y/n…I...”

I lifted my head off of his chest, looking down at his face. “If I’m wrong, it’s okay to tell me.”

I saw those dark brown eyes scan over my face; I saw the indecision behind them. “I’ve felt it for a long time,” he said at last. “But you’re hurting, and I’m your-“

I brought a finger up to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Then make me not hurt. Please?" The finger I had on his lips started tracing the shape of them, over his cupid's bow, down to his fuller bottom lip.

With an amount of courage that I didn’t know I had, I pushed myself up, swinging my leg over his body. I leaned over his face bringing my lips so close to his. “Please,” I whispered against his lips. Just be with me. Be here with me, Aaron.”

I felt his self-control crumble a moment before one of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid behind the back of my head. He pulled me down until my lips were against his.

If I had allowed myself to think about kissing Aaron Hotchner before, this wouldn’t have been what I expected. His lips were gentle as the brushed against mine, his tongue wasn’t demanding when it slid against the seam of my mouth, his thumb brushed over my cheek while his tongue slicked against mine.

I was the one that broke our sweet kiss to pull my shirt from my body. Baring myself to him this way was nothing compared to how much of my soul he’d already seen. Those dark brown eyes were filled with heat when they ran over my body, his large hands felt reverent when they brushed over my skin.

He rolled us until I was on my back underneath him. Aaron kissed down the column of my throat, down over my collarbones until he reached my breasts. His mouth felt almost scalding when it covered my nipple. I arched up against him, a strangled moan tore from my throat when his blunt fingers slid into my panties.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against my skin while he trailed wet kisses down my stomach. “Can I?” he asked when he reached the band of my sleep shorts and panties.

If I had had any doubts that I wanted Aaron Hotchner, that question would have gotten rid of them. I was begging him to take me, to make me feel anything other than the pain in my chest…and he still needed to make sure I wanted this.

I hooked my thumbs into my waistband, pulling them down while those almost black eyes ran over every inch of newly exposed skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I rasped out.

He reached behind his back to grab the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off of his body. Before I could blink, he had settled between my thighs, his mouth right above where I ached for him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Any response I would have made was broken off by a loud groan when his tongue parted my folds. His tongue circled my clit before moving down to dip inside of me. The moan that vibrated against me when he tasted me was the sexist thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My fingers threaded through his hair while his mouth worked me over. It didn’t feel like this was the first time we had been together like this. He touched me like he had known me for years.

But I needed more.

“Aaron,” I whimpered, my fingers tugging on his short dark hair. His eyes snapped open, but his mouth didn’t lift from my pussy. “I need to feel you inside me. Please?”

He pressed a final kiss to my pussy before he pulled away, moving up my body. Before he settled against me, he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted this, against my pussy while his upper body loomed over me. One of my hands pulled him down to me, crashing his mouth against mine; with the other I reached down to grab his cock, running it up and down my slit.

Aaron moaned into my mouth when I lined him up and he started to press inside of me. He gave a few swallow thrusts, allowing my body to adjust to his size before he slid all the way inside of me.

I had never had sex like this before. Sometimes in the past, it had felt like I was just loaning my body out to someone, taking whatever pleasure I got in return. This felt so different. Aaron moved against me like he needed me, his lips ran over my skin like being allowed to touch me was a gift.

He set a steady rhythm, his hips moving against mine in just the right way. He was kissing my neck, moaning my name against my skin when he brought his thumb down to my clit, massaging me while he moved against me.

“Aaron,” I breathed.

His mouth was against mine again. "I've got you, sweet girl, I've got you."

My nails dug into his back, my body arched against him, and my mouth opened in a silent scream when I flew apart underneath him. His head dropped down against my shoulder as he found his own release inside of me.

Aaron’s big body was settled on top of me, but he didn’t feel crushing, it felt safe.

When we had both started to come down from our orgasms, he rolled us against until I was on top of his body, my head on his chest. He pulled the covers over our bodies and pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“What happens in the morning?” I whispered out.

His head turned to look at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s technically morning now.”

“You know what I mean.”

I felt him nod. “What do you want to happen?”

I lifted my head up, my eyes meeting his dark coffee-colored ones. "Will you stay with me?"

His hand raised to cradle my face again, pulling me down to press the softest, sweetest kiss against my lips. “For as long as you want.”

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Ten

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of dubious medical procedures. Stay safe!]

Saying that she was in over her head would imply that, at some juncture, she had not been. Backhand couldn't recall a time when she hadn't been struggling to reach the damn surface.

There was so much. An entire underground compound, sprawling and winding like a rabbit warren, filled with synths and the scientists who seemed to style themselves as their betters.

Shaun had been the worst part about it all, if she was honest. The knowledge that it hadn't been ten years she had lost, but sixty ...and the now-elderly Shaun's bemusement at her emotional response to the child synth he had been leading her across the Commonwealth with was like a slap in the face.

The fact that he had the gall to suggest that she should take over the Institute once he had passed on was infuriating in its own right. Vega wanted nothing to do with any of this. She obliged him to the bare minimum. He wouldn't permit her to leave until she fully took in ' the wonders of the Institute ', everything that 'he' had built, so it was with a reluctant heart that Backhand agreed to think about the choice.

She didn't hate the Institute. It was odd to realize that, but at the end of the day what she truly hated was the way Shaun had continued to hoard all of the advancements they had made. The lives that could have been saved, the differences he could have made in the Commonwealth-!

Time passed strangely away from the reign of celestial bodies, simply separated into 'work cycles'.

Vega apparently spent the entirety of her first work cycle after arrival watching synths be created, the woman observing perfect bodies emerging disoriented from their vat of red liquid. The scientists overseeing the operation, after briefly introducing themselves, all but ignored her. For that she was grateful, because the process was equal parts fascinating and horrifying in its minutiae.

"Hello." One newly-formed synth said, sounding dazed when they addressed her. "I'm...new here?"

She wanted to cry at how confused the synth looked, she wanted to cry because she knew the life they would have down here. She didn't even have the chance to offer them a word of encouragement before they were spirited away to be properly calibrated.

Shaun came across her in the Robotics lab, her arms wrapped around her knees as she just... stared . "Ah, Mother. You will tax yourself mentally if you keep this up." Her son, who was now older than her by over forty years, scolded her in that insincere, saccharine manner. Backhand was reminded of Nate every time she heard Shaun speak. Even though he couldn't possibly have any memories of his father, his patronizing tone reeked of the casual superiority Nate had displayed in and out of the courtroom. "I have brought one of our coursers to escort you back to your room, Mother. If you would please cooperate with him."

"Hello ma'am." The courser intoned as she looked up. "I am X6-88. It is an honor to meet the woman who helped to create Father." He was tall and dark-skinned with narrow shoulders, his body wholly sheathed in the courser uniform to mask whatever bulk he might have. He wore mirrored sunglasses, even down here.

Backhand thought of the courser she had to kill to tear the chip out of it and her heart dropped. X6 must know about the courser. What if they had been friends? She hesitated on that thought. Were the synths down here even permitted to form those sorts of attachments? Curie, Sturges and Nick were her only real exposure to non-hostile synths, and all of them had their own personalities, likes and dislikes. Well, Sturges wasn't entirely certain as to whether he was a synth or not, but he believed he was and that was good enough for Vega. Did synths who were still under Institute programming actually have the capacity to create those bonds with one another?

"X6-88 is one of our finest coursers. Due to your combat history and... affinity for getting into scuffles, I assumed being in the presence of another combat-minded individual would help to put you at ease." Shaun's shrug was almost uncouth , as if he didn't particularly believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Backhand knew that the real reason he was giving a courser babysitter duty was because he didn't trust her not to meddle where she shouldn't. "The majority of the Institute is dedicated to much more lofty goals than synth retention, but why wear out the wrench with a job the hammer can perform?"

Backhand slowly got to her feet. "Very kind of you to think of my needs." She remarked, praying her voice wasn't too flat. She had yet to get used to how Shaun spoke to the synths. Or rather, how he spoke around them. Despite his insistence that they call him Father, the elderly man treated them like objects. Tools , or furniture items. These were living, breathing, thinking beings, reduced down to nothing more than careless analogies of hammer, wrench and screwdriver. It was heartbreaking.

Shaun simply inclined his head, the smile on his face more of a simper. "X6, I expect you to treat my mother with the utmost courtesy. She is, after all, the future of the Institute. During the work cycles following her rest, please escort her around the facility."

"Of course, Father." X6 replied immediately, his face and tone entirely devoid of emotion. "If you'll follow me, ma'am."

Backhand obediently followed X6 back out of the manufacturing laboratory, quickening her steps so she could keep up with the courser. He seemed to realize his legs were longer than hers a split second before she drew up alongside him, the synth slowing abruptly. Backhand ended up in front of him by half a step, chuckling a little as she paused and then fell in beside him.

"Sorry, my fault." She apologized.

X6-88 was silent for a moment, and then muttered, "that is foolish, ma'am. Why would you be sorry about something you have no control over?" Backhand hummed, trying to think of a way to explain. X6 quickly tacked on, "not that I'm questioning you, ma'am. I know questions are unwelcome."

Vega tilted her head, giving the man a confused look. "Unwelcome?"

"Father has instructed us not to ask questions. He says they will disrupt you settling in." The courser answered bluntly.

Backhand laughed, but the noise had no humor. "I've been disrupted for months , X6-88. You can ask me whatever you like."

"How did you do it?" X6-88 whirled on her, his tone and posture suddenly hostile. "Z2-47 was incredibly skilled. Deadly. Effective. And yet you killed him."

Backhand nodded slowly, and she heard X6's gloves squeak with how hard he clenched his fists.

" How ." The courser demanded.

"I...I don't know if I'll be able to explain it in a way you can understand." Backhand replied quietly. "Was Z2 one of your friends?"

"I-!" X6 jerked to a halt, seeming to realize that he had raised his voice. "My apologies if I have given you the wrong impression, ma'am. I merely sought to...find the weakness you must have exploited." He practically growled through his teeth, "I meant no offense."

"No no, you didn't offend me at all." Vega said sincerely, nearly putting her hand on his arm in a comforting manner before she reined herself in. "It's just not a conversation I would want other people to hear. Um, is my room…?"

"We only have a short ways to go. You will explain it to me there?" X6-88 asked curtly.

"I'll do my level best." The longest seconds in the history of man slipped by as the courser studied her from behind those sunglasses. "It's not that I doubt your intelligence or anything, I'd be an idiot to doubt your intelligence." Vega tried to elaborate after the silence grew uncomfortable. "I just don't know if I'll be able to...get the story to make sense."

"You are allowed to do as you please, ma'am." X6 said, his voice back to that monotone.

Backhand shook her head ruefully. "Never mind. C'mon, before somebody gets uptight that you're looming over me."

The courser took a hearty step back at that, his brow furrowing. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, ma'am."

"X6, I was in the army. You're going to have to do a lot more than that to make me uncomfortable. I'm more concerned about what someone might do to you . You know, if they think you're trying to threaten me."

X6-88 was silent for the remainder of the walk to her quarters, which turned out to be just as sterile as everywhere else. Backhand felt extremely awkward, afraid that she would get dirt on the pristine white furniture.

She settled gingerly into one of the chairs, gesturing to indicate that X6 should sit as well. He did so after a moment, perched on the very edge of the chair and leaning towards her.

Vega clasped her hands in her lap. "X6, has there ever been anyone in your life that you wanted to protect?"

The courser responded without hesitation. "G5-19." Backhand squinted, trying to figure out why she knew that particular--oh. Oh . But X6 wasn't done. "They were efficient at performing their tasks. Helpful. Useful. An asset to the Institute." He tilted his head at her. "And weak. Poor at combat."

"You would have done anything to keep them safe?"

"I did everything that I could." X6-88 said sharply. "I was ineffective in the end, however."

"Take that feeling and multiply it tenfold, and that's how I felt about Shaun. I knew that I would do everything I could to get my child back. Even if it meant I would have to take down an Institute murder machine." Backhand explained. "There was nothing to exploit, I promise. Just a sad mom's desperation to find her son. Z2-47 gave as good as he got."

"I find it very difficult to believe that you employed no underhanded tactics." X6 remarked. "G5 was taken via the use of a pulse grenade, so I assume you must have used something similar."

"A pulse grenade?" Backhand asked incredulously. "Who the hell were you fighting? "

"It was a group of raiders that found one of our salvage teams. I was away on another assignment, so I was not physically present." X6's hands gripped down on his thighs. "Had I been there, I assure you things would have played out differently." He muttered.

"Oh no." Backhand felt a rush of sorrow, and then felt ridiculous. Untold hours ago, she had been standing in Sanctuary Hills, certain that the relay would do absolutely nothing and she would be back to square one. And yet here she was, inside the Institute, listening to a courser talking about losing someone.

"I am under the impression that the raiders must have tortured and killed her. Even if she did not die immediately, there is no possibility that someone as weak as her survived on the surface for very long." If Backhand didn't know better, she would have sworn that he sounded grieved. "I asked to be spinally recalibrated and have her memory removed from my processes but my request was denied."

"Why would you want to-"

"G5-19 is a distraction." X6-88 growled. "As a courser, I am not permitted distractions."

"But they denied your request." Backhand repeated.

"Correct, ma'am."

"I don't understand why they would say you can't have distractions but then also refuse to remove them." The woman mused, resting her chin in her hand as she thought. "What's the spinal calibration process like?"

"All synthetic cerebrospinal fluid is drained from the body, wiped of signature and then reinserted via a series of lumbar, thoracic and cervical injections." X6-88 elaborated curtly. "Posture is also corrected during the procedure, as the vertebrae must be properly aligned in order for the fluid to redistribute as intended."

Vega got a little queasy at his description. "I'm going to assume this isn't a painless undertaking?"

"It is extremely painful." X6's tone was flat, giving no indication of his feelings on the matter.

"But you would have gone through that, just to-"

"I am an effective instrument of the Institute. If I remove distractions, I am even more effective." X6 interrupted her. "G5-19's memory does not make me more effective. Therefore it is useless to cling to it. I made the mistake of mentioning how distracting I found their memory, and Dr. Ayo wished to study the effects over a period of time. So my request was denied." The leather of his uniform made a soft noise as he shifted in the seat. "I do not prefer one over the other, but if I am not as sharp as possible, there is always an enemy willing to exploit that crack in my armor."

Vega extended a hand and the courser stared down at it blankly. "May I?" The young woman asked, deliberately keeping her voice even and soft. X6 glanced at her over the tops of those impregnable sunglasses and Backhand was startled to see that his eyes were in fact a light, steely gray.

"Why?" The synth queried.

"I'm a tactile person. A lot of times I feel like it's easier to make my point if I'm connected to the person I'm speaking with."

"I am a tactile learner as well," was all he said in reply. X6-88 didn't move, warily watching her.

Backhand relented after a moment, clasping her hands in her lap once more. "I just want you to know that sometimes memories aren't a bad thing, or a distraction. Like with me. Memories were all I had to get me here." She explained pragmatically. "They were my sole, driving force. I was going to get my baby back."

"Now that you're here, and you can see all the wonders of the Institute firsthand, was it worth it?" X6-88 asked sharply. "Or would it have been better if you woke up without recollection, just another nameless Vault dweller? Can you honestly say you're better off having been reunited with your son?" He challenged her, " especially since you were under the impression that he was still a child via the ruse facilitated by Kellogg and S9-23?"

Backhand, reeling from the courser's impromptu interrogation, nearly missed the flicker of confusion that twisted his features. She tried to formulate a response, wondering all the while why he was so bent out of shape over her being tricked.

"I...I meant no offense, ma'am." He said slowly before she could reply. "I am not supposed to ask questions. Why would I ask so many?" He seemed troubled, muttering about needing a full calibration as, " this is getting out of hand ."

"Look," Backhand said finally, corralling her thoughts into some semblance of order. "I can admit that I don't have all the answers. Despite what every human down here says, we're not actually all-knowing beings. But if you have questions, questions that other people can't or won't answer, I can always take a crack at 'em." She offered.

"Ma'am, are you implying that our brilliant minds may be keeping information from me?" X6-88 said, a slight uptick in his tone indicating his incredulity.

Vega held up her hands in an attempt to appease the courser. "Whoa whoa, I'm not saying anything like that. I'm just saying that if you feel like you're not getting the full story, you can ask me. After all, I'm a wellspring of firsthand pre-war knowledge." Her smile turned wry as she recalled Danse's words to her. "A relic, if you will."

…

X6-88's first question opened as a statement, oddly enough. "You do not like it down here." The courser observed as he watched her.

He had been like a dubiously-benevolent shadow throughout her stay, the work cycles ticking away as she soaked up the Institute's fluorescent ambiance like a sponge. "You're right." Backhand replied. No use denying it . "I don't."

"Why not?"

She leaned silently on the railing overlooking the atrium for several long minutes. "I don't feel like I deserve it, I guess." She admitted softly. "I'm not made for a place like this. Hell, I didn't even feel like I deserved my spot in the Vault. Only reason I went was because of Shaun."

"You would have died were it not for the obligation you felt towards your offspring?"

"Well, when you put it like that …" Backhand chuckled sadly. "In a way, yes."

"Explain."

"I'm not a good person, X6. Back in the war, I...there's stuff I'm not proud of. I let people goad me into doing things that were out of character for me." She tried to keep it simple, a little less messy than her piecemeal recollections. "I didn't deserve to have a baby. I didn't deserve to have that second chance, that life outside the military." She stared off into space, her eyes unfocused. "I had no one else to love, so I poured all of the affection I had into caring for Shaun. I didn't have a lot after the divorce, but we had a house and food."

"Divorce?" X6-88 sounded curious. "What were you divorced from?"

"My husband. Shaun's father."

"Oh, Progenitor Nathan." X6 mused. "Father has no memory of him."

"He wouldn't. Nate wanted nothing to do with him." Vega murmured.

"I cannot fault him. Infants are highly unsettling." The courser said bluntly, making Backhand burst out laughing. "Ma'am, please attempt to control yourself."

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry, X6. I just...the way that you said it, and you being what you are, I couldn't keep my composure." The woman wheezed, grinning up at him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand your amusement, ma'am."

"Well you're this deadly killing machine and yet something so innocent is something you find unnerving."

"I am...unused to their noise." X6-88 explained. "They are shrill. Their hunger cries are akin to torture."

" Oh ." Backhand didn't bother trying to hide her smile. "I guess that would be a problem for you. Back before the war, there were kids everywhere . More chances for people to uh, get used to their racket."

"That sounds like a nightmare."

" Everything about pre-war sounds like a nightmare to you." Backhand retorted petulantly.

"You are correct, ma'am." X6-88's mouth curved up ever so slightly at the left corner. If she hadn't been watching, she would have missed it. "Children and heights are loathsome to me and from what I learned via browsing archival data, the pre-war world was rife with tall buildings and wailing infants." He cocked his head to look at Backhand over his sunglasses, his expression downright human . "Mankind's ivory towers and dreams of the future did them very little good."

Backhand suddenly took note of the death grip the courser had on the railing of the balcony.

"G5-19 enjoyed children. She was very weak." X6 remarked reluctantly, like the words were being dragged out of him. "I still don't know what she was doing on surface detail. She had never expressed any interest in the surface. She was a simple maintenance synth."

"I notice that you refer to her as 'she'. The rest of the coursers just call the other synths 'unit'." Backhand pointed out.

"Another fault of the memories I am plagued by. Speech processor issues. I assign gender due to some form of...error in how I perceived her." X6 shrugged. "Doctor Ayo does not believe it is detrimental for the time being."

"Do you think it's because she was a real person to you?" Yikes, too direct , Backhand realized as X6-88 stiffened up. "I mean, because you got to know her. She obviously had some kind of personality that left an impression on you." She tried to amend. The courser was already in turmoil over the memories he didn't want to keep, it wasn't her place to pry.

"She was weak." X6 seemed to default to that as a descriptor for his... friend , his brow furrowed. Backhand resigned herself to that being the end of the conversation, and then, "she was weak like you are, ma'am."

"Like me?" The woman asked, surprised. "I don't think I understand."

X6-88 nodded, his stony expression far from encouraging. "She wanted to help, even if it was detrimental to her. Constantly working. Truthfully, her disregard for the work cycles was what put us in touch in the first place. I was sent to find her when several jobs turned up as incomplete and I located her in a supply closet, fast asleep." He sighed heavily. "I was supposed to reprimand her and send her for recalibration. I still don't understand why I didn't. I even lied and said that I did."

The honesty of his admission was unsurprising to Vega; all the synths in the Institute seemed to have very few qualms about telling the truth. She imagined that must be part of their programming, so the scientists could maintain their grip on the synths that vastly outnumbered them.

"She asked to be transferred from Facilities to Bioscience. She wanted to help, even after her request was denied. She spent all of her free time in Bioscience." His gloves squeaked on the metal bannister. "Then one day I came back from an assignment and she was...gone." He actually sounded pained now, the most emotion she had heard out of him yet. "It was a break in my routine and I do not cope well with such interruptions."

Translation: I'm sad and I'm not allowed to be , Backhand theorized privately.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would not do the same." The courser said abruptly, turning to face her. "Take care of yourself, ma'am. You are, after all, the future of the Institute."

"X6-"

"I am being given a new assignment in the following work cycle and will no longer be responsible for you. So I will reiterate my suggestion to you." He said sternly. "Take care of yourself."

Backhand didn't have the heart to tell the synth that a suggestion and an order were two different things. "Alright." She replied. "I'll do my best, if you promise to do the same. And I...I hope that someday you'll find that friend of yours."

"Doubtful. But I appreciate the sentiment, ma'am." X6 inclined his head, and then departed.

…

With X6 out in the field, Vega felt like she could finally get down to business. She had a veritable laundry list of to-dos, and she had no idea how long she had even been down here for.

There was sneaking into the old branch of Bioscience for the serum to cure Virgil. It was surprisingly simple despite the security measures, to the point where Backhand was almost suspicious .

Then there was the holotape Sturges had given her to scan the Institute network, easily managed. " I'll be makin' copies of it. I imagine my boy Johnny D. will be mighty interested in what the suits have been up to, and then of course one for your friends in the Brotherhood ." He had informed her right before she had relayed, pressing the tape into her hands.

Next there was a bit of a...pet project. X6 had mentioned that his friend (alive and well, unbeknownst to him, functioning as Curie's new body) had expressed no real interest in the surface to the courser, and yet had somehow ended up on a salvage patrol. That sounded like a scheme. A well-meaning scheme. It was possible that there was a scientist sympathetic to the plight of the more self-aware synths.

Her gentle inquiries put her back in touch with a scientist by the name of Doctor Alan Binet, whom she had met during the first work cycle she spent in the Institute. He worked in Robotics, supervising the creation of synths from the ground up.

He was delighted to exposit upon his theories of synth cognitive capabilities. The good doctor had apparently witnessed synths experiencing REM sleep, and that fueled him to study their behavior even closer than before. Because if they could dream, why couldn't they have a soul as well?

But strangely, he seemed adamant in the stance that he would never release the synths to the surface, stating that it was a living hellscape. Backhand couldn't exactly refute his claims either.

Vega left Robotics stumped and defeated. If not the man who was performing social experiments with the synths, then who?

She left it alone for the time being, moving on to her last, arguably most important objective.

Convincing one Doctor Madison Li to take up her Brotherhood mantle once more.

Part Eleven

#fallout four #fallout 4 #paladin danse #paladin danse imagine #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #Eventual romance #paladin danse x f!sole #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 paladin danse #fo4 companions #x6-88 #the BOI #brotherhood of steel

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

Kira Vol 2 (2)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 2: You Were Found

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: I’m feeling better today, enjoying the weather, shit scared of thunder and wanting sleep to come early so I don’t wake up in the noon like I did today

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If the air could spell out the emotions floating in this space, it would paint the molecules 'awkward'. But what is more fascinating to witness by anyone who would walk in on the scene is to point out to who is more uncomfortable than the others. You sit across your parents, busy helping serve breakfast around the table, your attention is mostly taken by your grandmother- who is more than delighted to be served fried bread, these little pieces of her favourite edible treasures of fried dough and a hot cup of tea to go with it all. Shireen and Ritviz, your younger sister and brother sit on the other end of the table together, watching you with their piercing gaze as you try to- almost- completely ignore this extraordinarily handsome man sitting right next to you. They dare not blink as this pale sculpted dude looks at the movements of your hands busy at work before landing his haze upon your face. "So-" Ritviz leans in towards Shireen, his eyes still not letting go of this guy who is stuck on his sister for some reason- "this is her boss?"

Shireen hums, narrowing her eyes towards the duo. Taking a cardamom stick from the table basket, she snaps it in half. "Ay, Kira. Give your boss some of that mint sauce you prepared last night." You turn to watch your sister nibble at the cardamom, trying your best to ignore the palpitations and nod with a smile. How does she always know? It is hard to know if the heat your feel at the nape of your neck and cheeks is visible to everyone sitting around you and even harder to let your excited brain find a switch to shut down the anxiety that your body feels on having all the people you love in one room. On the same table. "Have some of this," your mother brings forward an entire serving of her signature chillis fried and spiced in her signature chickpea dough recipe and asks Loki to help himself. "No!" You blurt out when Loki tries to go for them, moving them away to take charge of filling his plate up. "He can't eat chilli," you explain, gathering more judgment from your siblings, "it doesn't suit him." "Tsk. How have you been living with him till now?! You can barely survive without spicy food!" You and Loki turn your heads- quite in sync- to look at Shireen. "Shireen," mother uses her tone to make it known she is crossing some line. But she also makes sure to smile at her daughter's guest and serve him some piping hot tea. "Don't mind her. I dropped her on the floor when she was a baby," you whisper to Loki. Loki blinks and quietly chuckles before turning back to look at Shireen. "We have a cook back home. She makes sure Kira gets everything she wants and needs." There is a gasp forming in Ritviz's lungs right now as he bites into the fried cheese. 'We'? 'Back home'? This dude already planned their retirement?? "So, Loki..." Now all three children turn to look at their mother, knowing full well where this is going the moment she addresses your boss so casually. "Do you have any siblings?" Ritviz facepalms himself harder than anticipated. Shireen grabs a chilli and stuffs it in her mother's mouth while you try to keep a straight face through the embarrassment your family is making you feel. Well, your dad and grandma are an exception because they are more interested in the food. "She doesn't have any idea about what's going on around the world. So..." You trial off with apology bursting through your y/e/c eyes. Your siblings look at your mother with daggers in their eyes, knowing full well she has consumed the Odin family history through the news like an addict ever since you got the job at Sun Corp. More so when you came back home. Your mom can feel their stares. But she too takes her time to look at them and go 'what' like it's a big deal. "Meet me outside after breakfast and I'll tell you 'what'," Shireen threatens her. Loki simply shrugs. "It's fine. I have a brother. He is back in Asgard looking after his father's empire. We don't meet each other much. Mostly because of our work." It is both relieving and painful to watch Loki sail on those words so smoothly and end them with a genuine smile. "These are delicious, by the way," he adds and you have to wonder about a thousand things about your boss in one go. Your mother is won over by that compliment but that does not stop her from prying more into your boss' life. "The business must be going well then?" Loki nods in respect. "We have been going stable. So, that is a plus after the slump the market was facing." "Okay, no business talk on the table," you remind everyone before pouring some soda for you, your grandma and Loki. "The food still might feel spicy. Have the soda first and tea later." Loki pauses between bites and lets that sweet command swirl inside him, his bones feeling alive after so long on hearing that voice talk to him this way. "Yes, ma'am," he replies softly, and you have to hide the flush on your face and the smile on your lips behind your hands. "What happened?" your grandma asks you out of the blue, her strong sixth sense already catching the flutter in your gut. You shake your head and bribe her with the soda. Her focus is redirected instantly, but that does not mean she stops observing you through this heavenly meal. "Why didn't you get married yet?" your mother throws the question out of nowhere, making some people choke on their drink, others groan, and one snicker. "Okay, that's it," you announce, "he's staying at the hotel. Loki, you're staying at the hotel." Your mother's wide eyes look at the usual judgment of the siblings falling upon her. "What? I'm just asking this handsome man about-" "You cannot ask him that, ma," you and Ritvik groan, Shireen tsks and rolls her eyes. Loki, watching this unfold simply smirks at this pure delight he feels sitting in the midst of this family. You get up and go to the kitchen to get some more sauces for the table, all the while glaring at your mother- who chooses to not notice. The fried dough smells and tastes heavenly even though it is one heavy portion for him. Worth it, he shrugs internally and goes for another bite. His right wrist feels a tug and he witnesses the frail wrinkled hand shaking a little before pointing him to the soda bottle in front of him. "Have some sprite," your grandmother urges Loki with a smile in her eyes. Loki feels a tug on the string of his hearts. Those eyes are a mix of green, brown, grey and every mystic power of nature that can be held in the iris of a wise person. That withered face shines bright with plump cheeks and transparent emotions. "I'm...uh...I'm good, Mrs Kane, thank you," Loki reciprocates the smile, "I still have some left in my glass." Grandma nods and pushes her own glass forward. "Then pour me some, will you?" Loki cannot help but chuckle, complying with the orders straight away. "So-" your mother's voice breaks through the soothing air over the table just as you come out of the kitchen- "how much do you earn?" And you walk right back into it.

"Pretty cringy breakfast downstairs." Moving away from the view of the mountains in the near distance, Loki sees Ritvik stand by the rooftop door with a box in his hand. He can see Shireen stand behind him, bluffing disinterest as she pushes his brother away to walk towards the wires and hang the washed laundry to dry under the oddly hot December sun. "Isn't that how families usually are?" Loki smiles in his direction. Ritviz joins the man by the railings, looking at the mountains covered in thick clouds before paying attention to the maroon sweater Loki wears with his midnight blue jeans. The boy cannot help but appreciate the wide knit patterns adorn that white skin with apt beauty. "Nice sweater," he points before turning around to sit down on the platform. "Thanks, it w-" something stops Loki mid-sentence when he remembers the day he found it waiting in his bedroom- "it was a gift." Ritviz hums and smirks. "Good taste," he mutters. Shireen's eyes have been stuck on these two, reading their every word as every fabric getting in her hands is tortured with a sudden flick. "Is she a good assistant? My sister?" the brother asks. Is...that a trick question? Loki blinks at the mountains before smiling at the boy. "The best one I could ask for." A nod of agreement comes from the brother while the sister stands there giving more frustrated flicks to the sweaters. "Cool. Cool cool cool cool. So...she must keep up with whatever it is she's supposed to do." Oh for fucks sake. Shireen groans out loud. "Just ask him already dammit!" Both men turn towards Shireen. One looks at her in confusion while the other widens his eyes in caution at her, shaking his head as discreetly as possible. "Ask...ask me what?" "Nothin-" "How did Kira get hurt?" A crow yells whilst sitting on the top of the malacca as if laughing at the entire situation. Ritviz scratches some itch at the back of his neck while sighing in defeat. "You are supposed to go easy with the questions, Rin. This guy is the reason Kira has a job." "Oh, shut it, Ritz," she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "it's not like he's doing her a favour. She has earned her place, okay? And she got wounded under his care!" Loki can see the scrunched up nose and brows carry on them a rage held in for far too long. Even though those grey eyes have nothing but animosity in them for him, he feels a certain elation on seeing them stand in defence for her sister. "Oi!" RItz is about to yell at Rin but Loki cuts him on the way. "She was in an accident." The chilly breeze takes the words and swirls them around the audience. "The car she was travelling in met with a serious accident. Three of my men died that night. One survived long enough to make sure Kira was all right." The crisp heat of the sun feels warm instead of scorching. Those fine lines on Rin's forehead fade just a little; partially because of hearing those words straight from the lion's mouth, partially because the guilt is transparent to a fault in those smaragdines that shimmer more than they normally should. "I was supposed to be with her that night. I promised to take her home, safe and sound. And I regret every second of not keeping my promise, I assure you that. If there was a way to repent for being careless with Kira's life, I would gladly give myself up for it." The silence that erodes the rooftop brings a lightness to it. Rin sighs and crosses her arms while Ritz cannot bring himself to look at Loki- who is patiently waiting for a word. "Kira told us there were bad guys involved," Rin mutters while letting her fingers play with the wool of her white sweater, "and by us, I mean me and Ritz. Mom and dad have no idea about this. They still think she fell from the stairs." Loki nods. "Did they try to hurt her because of...you?" Ritz cannot help but ask. The weight that has begun to make home over his chest returns after what seems like a while. That uneasy feeling of something scratching over his heart makes him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, that is not what I meant," Ritz scrunches his face in an apology, "not that she was hurt because of you. What I meant was-" "Yes. I was the reason." "Bullshit!" Rin scoffs and laughs. That...was unexpected. "I'm pretty sure she did something to piss them off. She's done it before and she will def-fucking-nately do it again." Rin is not wrong. And the strong edge in her voice tells him she knows her sister well enough. "What I care about is that now that she works for you, she will be fighting a fight that isn't hers. And, God forbid, if something happens to-" "I won't let it," Loki is already marking down a vow, "I have witnessed it once and I am not going to let anything or anyone make her go through it again." "But you cannot promise me that she won't go looking for danger, can you?" The lift of her brow makes Loki recall why he fell for Kira. "Agreed. I cannot do that. But whatever she brings home with her, I am willing to clean the mess." "You-" Rin has to literally grit her teeth before she can find herself pouring down fire over the man who talks about her sister like... The embers burning inside her bring blood to the surface under her teeth. Of all the goddamn people in this world. She looks at those green eyes shining under the soothing rays; translucent to a fault, standing bare. "Rin," Ritz quietly urges, trying to take her by the arm. "She will get hurt again, won't she?" Ritz stands there, feeling as significant as the wind meddling with the two people standing opposite each other defending their love for the same person again and again. And if they could, they would do it endlessly. "She does not back down from a fair fight," Loki addresses something all three of them already know. "That fight is always to save someone else," Rin adds, never blinking. "One more reason for me to carefully choose my enemies," Loki concludes, never wavering his gaze. A sigh leaves Rin's lungs and she feels her watery eyes closing with a pinch of pain in the eyelids. "The audacity of this bitch," she mutters and walks away, kicking the lone brick in her path that was used to keep the blankets holding drying chilli in place. "Please don't hate her," Ritz presses, sighing at the sight of his sister stomping down the stairs, "she is mad because she does not yet know how to process the emotion of envying you." Loki's brows furrow. And Ritviz can see the question incepting from miles away, making him chuckle and scratch an itch at the back of his head. "Kira stopped singing two years ago," he began, having Loki's full attention at the mention of the name, "all the weird songs and lyrics, all the wacky sound effects and humming disappeared when she fell ill. Of course, to the world, she was suffering from insomnia. But there was so much more. We were worried it would get worse when she left for the cyber city. So easy to get lost there, you know. I knew she cried every night even though she did not say. She always called mom in the morning when she had the energy for another day. I even thought of bringing her back home one day and right that morning she called us to tell us she had landed a job in your company. And her call times got more erratic. But her voice grew stronger. I don't know if it was because of the work or people around her, but she seemed to be better. That was one hope for us till we heard about the accident from you. That must have been hard for you, man. Telling us about her? And at the same time having to tell us to not meet her because of security reasons or whatever was going on? The day she told us she was coming back we thought that was it. That she was done. That she was coming home, done with the world and stuff. The first day she came back home, she was humming." Loki blinks, feeling an old string strike. "She-" Ritz chuckles at his own disbelief- "was covered in bruises and bandages and she was humming. She narrated incidents like she had come back from some great adventure and she talked like could not wait to go back. And the last time I saw her eyes sparkle like that, Loki, was when she had created art. And that was ages ago." Words do not even dare to come up from that lumpy throat. And even though he has no idea, Ritz can only imagine what Loki must be feeling right now. "So, please don't mind if my sister envies the fact that you were able to do something she could not figure out for Kira before. She fears Kira might have experienced a high that might be too dangerous for her. I'm not saying that I completely agree with her, but she might not be completely wrong." Loki exhales, feeling a load leave him as he moves his hand through his hair. "And I'm sure you'll do what's best," Ritz shrugs and smirks, casually pointing at Loki's sweater, "I mean, she doesn't give the best gifts to just anyone." Loki looks down at his sweater and has to take some time to find in himself to chuckle through the smooth roller coaster he was sent on. "Here." He watches Ritz bring forward the box he has been carrying for a while now. "Happy birthday. From me and Rin." There is a pause in every moment in his body. Even on an extraordinary day, it would be unexpected, but this man had stopped keeping expectations from the world a long time ago. No wonder then, that this gesture hits hard right in the chest, squeezing that heart to bring up some buried or burned scripts of having the chance of making new friends and family. It is a melody- on a piano sitting at the edge of a hill, a harp standing by the edge of the sea or a cello right in the middle of a wheat field- slowly but surely engulfing him with a different warmth that he is currently too slow to figure out. The undone ribbon lies on the cemented floor underneath him. The lid hangs in his hand as the ceramic reflects the light in his eyes while he looks with a mixture of confusion and surprise. The polished piece of mug is picked up to watch the animated caricature of two really proud beings leaning next to the words in the middle. One he recognises immediately. He can never miss those golden eyes and that lited brow with a knowing smile. The other? He has a hard time breathing it in because it only ends up making him laugh. The green eyes with the smug look and red sweater with black pants against the pale skin are giving him goosebumps. 'Father of a Big, Bad Wolf' it says.

For a second you feel like he hasn't heard you walk up to him. You are about to call out his name when a thought slides in from that on itching corner of your mind and tells you to pause and breathe in this picture. Loki, the man responsible for an empire that is both feared and respected today; the man with mysteries surrounding him in as dense clouds as the men and women who have fallen for his shadowed personality. The man who can run the world but right now stands on your rooftop with dewy eyes looking at the mug your brother made for him. The man who smiles the best smile when the world isn't looking. The man you have fallen for. Hard. It is a treat to witness this soft moment and it almost stings a little when he raises his head to let his gaze fall on your face. But more than that sting, it burns so well when his pupils dilate and his face glows on sensing your presence. "Do you like your birthday present?" you have to ask. And you cannot undo this big smile that is stuck on your face today. "Like would be an understatement, darling," he mentions while carefully putting the mug back into the box. Darling. The word still holds the power to send a delicious buzz down to your core. More so when he breathes such magic into it. "Oh," you nod and pretend to question, "then I wonder what will happen when you find out the rest of them today." Those fine lines on his forehead appear for second before excitement mixed with disbelief washes them away. "What?" He is barely able to whisper through the rush that is making his skin flush. And you are loving every second of it. "Happy birthday, Mr Loki, sir," you coo sweetly, licking your lips and taking a step closer to him, "let's not waste our time. We have a lot to do in these eighteen hours." And in this very second, he is certain of one thing when he looks at you. He would make sacred grounds in your name, kiss the dirt you walked in and teach the world what love is by painting a picture of you. He will protect that smile with his life and do everything in his power to make the world safer just for you. "Oh, and for your first surprise," you mention with a skip and jump in your step- something he is witnessing for the first time and loving every part of it- "my grandma seems to like you now." He chuckles with a smile so wide that makes you giggle at the adorableness. "That's good to he-wait. What do you mean now?" But you are already turning the corner to walk downstairs, humming a tune. "Kira, what-Kira! What do you mean now?"

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eldri-sv · 3 years

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5 - Miyahara Rin

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people's minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa's TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country... AU, OC x Aizawa

Trigger warnings: frustration, stress

(possibly incomplete, if you’d like something added, please let me know)

(The Mount Fuji Doomjazz Corporation - Strange Dreams)

Miyahara Rin was angry. Maybe angry was a strong word, but she was definitely annoyed. Frustrated. And she was lacking just enough sleep to become very vocal about her frustrations.

Students started pouring into the college one after the other but she had not managed to get a single comment she could use. It wasn't her fault, she was here. The editor had sent her to the school to get some material, so she could throw together some trashy article on Toshinori Yagi's new career as a teacher at U.A. In her opinion, that wasn't worth an article but apparently newspapers didn't really care about quality journalism anymore and her bills wouldn't pay themselves.

What had really pissed her off was that one scruffy looking guy that had told them to stop harassing students. It wasn't her fault that this was her job and she wasn't harassing anyone. Why couldn't they just give her what she wanted? She'd be gone then, write that stupid article and be done with it. But they all just had to be difficult.

She turned around with a sigh to see if anyone else was coming in. There was a girl with black hair tied into a loose bun. She was wearing a short flowery dress and was followed by a slightly taller guy with messy purple hair. They seemed to be in a hurry. Maybe they'd let something slip, in order to get to class on time?

There was no time to waste. Miyahara Rin walked up to them and blocked off their way. The two of them didn't even seem to realize that they were getting cornered until they almost bumped into Miyahara. And they were training to become cops? They looked like they needed a good bit of sleep.

"Sorry, Ma'am, we'll have to get through here or we'll be late for class." the boy said. He didn't sound impressed with the wall of reporters in front of him. And that pissed Miyahara off even more.

"Well, you won't be getting through, unless you give us a comment on Yagi as a teacher. What's he like? Is he good at teaching?" she asked, her eyes getting a certain diabolical twinkle. The boy just looked at her slightly annoyed.

"Fucked if I know." he mumbled and tried pushing his way through the reporters. Miyahara wouldn't let him go that easily, however. She moved in front of him.

"What about your little girlfriend then? Sweetie, do you wanna give us a comment?" she wanted to know. The girl looked up with a confused look in her eyes. She looked just as tired as Miyahara felt, but she seemed to have given up on life already. Well, she might still be useful for Miyahara.

"Ew, what the hell? That's my little brother." she replied.

"I can't afford being late, let us through already! We have no damn comment for you." the boy growled and started trying to push through the crowd more aggressively. That was too bad for him, really, because it just meant the reporters would close around them. It seemed like the girl was aware of that.

"Toshi, don't do that! They'll put all this shit in the papers and then we're done for career-wise!" she said to him.

"I didn't stay up all fucking night to study just so I could be late for class." the boy protested. Miyahara grinned.

"Just one small comment on Yagi, that's all we want... Come on, kids, no need to be so aggressive..." she said to them.

"Mr. Aizawa!" the girl suddenly called out and put up her arm to wave at someone. The crowd of reporters started parting and someone from the campus came through. Miyahara tried to catch a glimpse at whoever it was coming through. Aizawa did ring a bell somewhere in the back of her head, but she couldn't think of any reason why.

"I swear, there are actual cops on-site that can arrest you right here and right now, if you don't let my students get to school undisturbed! What do you think you're doing?" she heard someone say and soon looked into the face of the scruffy man from earlier. Of course. Of course he'd be here to take away these two kids, just so she had to go to her editor and get berated for not being able to get anything. This day was just going great. For fuck's sake. If she wasn't on the job, she would have gone to the next bar for a double whiskey at this point.

"Come on, you two, get to class. I've been wondering where the hell you have been, Miss Shinsou." he said to the students, gently putting one arm around each of them and manoeuvering them through the crowds onto the campus.

"JUST GIVE US ONE FUCKING COMMENT AND WE'LL BE GONE!" Miyahara shouted angrily over the whispers around her. She sighed in frustration and turned to her cameraman, who looked at her with a shrug.

"Fuck." she swore under her breath.

"I mean, we can just go and call it a day. I doubt we're going to have so many late comers and you're not really in the right headspace to be talking to people. Let's have a coffee or something..." he suggested. Miyahara couldn't believe she was thinking of giving up. This was madness.

"Excuse me." she suddenly heard a voice say behind her. She turned around ready to blow up in the face of whoever was standing behind her, but she was surprised when she saw a young man who looked like he might be a student himself stand behind her. Except he looked somewhat scary. He had bright, almost white hair that was about shoulder-length. He seemed to be suffering from dry skin - his skin looked unhealthy in general. His eyes had a tormented look about them, but he was smiling. It was this quite unsettling smile that made Miyahara shut up.

"Uhm... yes?" she asked. The guy was wearing a black hoodie, the hood over his head. He was standing a little hunched over, hands in his pockets. He looked thin, almost as if he was surviving in a basement on one measly meal every other day. Miyahara would have felt sorry for him, if he didn't look so unsettling.

"I can help you get on campus. I think I might know a way for you to get in..." he said to her. His voice gave her serious goosebumps. It was breathy and high-pitched in weird places and it just sounded hounded. It broke with some words. Miyahara gulped. Trusting this kid was going against everything her gut was telling her, but...

Shit, she needed that fucking story. If she came back the editor would kill her. Or fire her. And at the moment she had no idea which was worse, because the market for young journalists was saturated and if she got fired she'd never be able to find another job. Not for months, anyway. It seemed like she had no choice.

"Alright, tell us what you know."

#inside your mind #aizawa #fanfiction #aizawa fanfiction #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x oc #quirklessau

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slimeyslimeyballsack · 4 years

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If You Only Knew, You'd Hate Me Chapter Three

Pairing: Bucky Buchanan x OMC (Zebediah Kaskitt)

Summary: Bucky and Zebediah had a fleeting interaction years ago and Zeb has been hung up on the boy ever since. Even with his arrogant and dismissive exterior, Zeb still tries to make a connection.

Warnings: swearing, shitty parents, as per usual, bucky gets pumbled, it's bad, I guess I just hate my main characters, but wait, theres fluff, yep, hurt comfort baby

Tags: @lykenbcrn @btrmuffins @diagnosed-crazy

As always ask if you'd like to be tagged

Part One Part Two

When Bucky stepped into the kitchen his mother was in her usual place at the island. What worried him was that his father was behind her chair. Bucky knew well enough to take his seat across from his mother. His father eyed him the entire time, a look of disdain on his face that was reserved specifically for Bucky. Bucky's father was better than him in every way. Taller, stronger, more handsome, smarter, and infinitely more talented. A silence hung in between the three, the kind that pulled tighter the longer you held it until you reached a point where it would be painful no matter how it was broken.

"I can't believe you. Right now, I honestly could care less if you were found dead in a ditch. In fact, that might be an improvement to our current situation."

A glob of spit landed on Bucky's face. He didn't dare wipe it off. He felt the telltale sting of his father's slap across his face, then again on the other side of his face. His father's rings digging into his cheek and brow bone. He knew there would be blood. There was always blood when his father punished him. Especially now. Last night's fresh wounds would easily be reopened.

"Stand."

Bucky did as he was told, moving far enough away from the chair to give his father room enough to be able to circle him comfortably if he wished to. Bucky would be cleaning the floors later. They were lucky the tile was brown. A white tile would be much more difficult to clean.

"You were with that fucking zombie again."

His father accentuated each word with a blow to Bucky's face.

"They are disgusting."

A fist.

"You are disgusting."

A knee.

His father's rings stamped images onto his body. They would resurface later in the form of bruises. He grabbed Bucky's wrists, nails piercing the skin.

"I thought you learned your lesson after yesterday boy."

He threw Bucky on the ground collecting the skin of his wrists under his fingernails. He slammed his foot into Bucky's back as a preventative to stop him from getting up.

"Don't lie to me boy. If you tell me you learned your lesson I don't want to see it again."

A series of kicks fell onto his back and sides. The beating couldn't have lasted more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours. It felt like it would never end. His mother didn't participate. She merely watched, sipping her martini and occasionally checking her watch, as if this was just a slight inconvenience to her. In all likeliness it probably was.

"Stand."

Bucky again did as he was told. Any other time he would've submitted. But he didn't want to not see this zombie anymore. He wanted that kindness. He needed that kindness.

"May I speak, sir?"

His mother and father exchanged glances before he gave a curt nod.

"I wish to explain the reason I am associating with the monster."

His mother's eyebrows raised, eyes widening.

"You mean you did not wish to create a friendship with it?"

"No ma'am. Of course not. I just have him do tasks for me. He's like a servant. That's all I'm using him for. He is a filthy zombie. I would never want to be around him otherwise. I promise."

His mother looked to her husband. Being the reasonable one out of the two he had hoped that she took to what he said. She could convince his father of anything.

"You know, dear. That isn't a terrible idea. That's very resourceful of you son."

His father laughed. A rare sound coming from him. It was deep and loud. It wasn't happy. It induced no joy, hearing it. Quite the opposite. The rumble instilled a deeper fear into Bucky.

"Why didn't you say that before we taught you your lesson, boy? Now clean up and do whatever it is you do. God knows you're never home. Just be quiet; we're going to bed."

"Yes sir."

His mother and father left the room. Bucky was able to let out his breath. The first thing he did was clean the blood away from his eyes as best as he could. He made quick work with the mop, disposing of the end and replacing it once he had cleaned the pools on the floor.

The sounds of the night filled the air. Homemade windchimes hung outside. They didn't sound good or look particularly impressive, but they were an important part of zombie culture. Art deco in general was a huge aspect of zombie culture. They turned trash into something creative and beautiful. It decorated their houses and their lawns. It was a thing of pride. The windchimes currently jingled unceremoniously. Crickets sang their songs, exchanging melodies with the frogs and the cicadas. Although there technically wasn't a curfew the Z Patrol would still chastise zombies for being out at night so Zombietown was always quiet after sundown.

Of course, on such a beautiful night it would have to be disrupted. The sound of something hitting the chair that served as a window cover rang out. Zeb turned over, covering his head with his pillow. The metal tang continued.

"What the hell." He mumbled.

He threw his blankets off and shuffled to the window, pulling the chair off its nail. In the dirt, down by his stoop stood Zebina. She beckoned him to come down. Zebina never went out after dark. She didn't even go to mashes. Zeb didn't even think she stayed up past ten o'clock. He swung his legs over the railing and hopped into the ground.

"Bina, what are you doing here?"

"The wolves, they're having a campfire. They invited us."

Zeb wrinkled his eyebrows. Zebina, most likely sensing his confusion continued.

"We hung out while you were at your cheer stuff. So are you coming or not?"

"I- yeah."

They hurried to the outside of town where they were met by a wolf named Wynter. The two seemed close, sharing inside jokes as they made their way to and through the forbidden forest. As they approached you could hear howls and laughter. A large fire raged in the center of several wolves. Zebediah didn't love fire. He wasn't scared like some zombies, but he tended to stay away from it. Zebina, on the other hand, was fascinated; she loved fire. She went immediately toward it, greeting other wolves. She was uncharacteristically social. Zebina didn't have a lot of friends; she and Zebediah had been friends since elementary and had just stayed close. She didn't have time to make friends; she had to study. Yet, she already seemed close to them.

Now alone, Zebediah looked around, spotting a semi-secluded spot away from the fire to sit. He decided he'd wake up a little bit before joining the group. Before he got the chance, a wolf came over to him. He remembered her name was Willa. She was kind of scary, but Zeb smiled at her anyway.

"Diah right?"

"Zebediah, yeah."

Zeb moved over to allow her to sit.

"Bina talks about you a lot."

"Oh God, what does she say?"

"Bucky? That asshole?"

Zeb sighed. "Zebina doesn't understand why I like Bucky so much."

"Neither do I."

Willa raised an eyebrow. She looked bewildered. People usually were. He got side eyes whenever he called to Bucky. Zeb shifted into a more comfortable position. This would be a long conversation; he could tell.

"She doesn't pay attention. Nobody does really. I don't blame them. We're all so caught up in our own lives; we don't take the time to look at what's happening with people. Nobody looks behind the brash exterior. He's either a monster or he's a cheer god."

Willa's face wrinkled into something between anger and confusion.

"He is a monster though."

"No. He's not. He's not a cheer god either. He's just a person. A person with thoughts and feelings. A person who makes choices based on things that have happened to him."

"Don't you ever just feel like all your kindness is wasted?"

"Sometimes, yeah, but everyone deserves kindness."

Willa didn't seem happy with his answer at all.

"But he treats everyone, including you, like crap."

She stood, throwing her arms in the air and pacing.

"Kind of, but also kind of not. It's an act. Next time your around, pay closer attention to his facial expressions, to how he words his sentences. Just look closer, I implore you."

Willa stopped to look at him and chuckled.

"You're so nice. Forgiving. You're just like Wyatt." She shook her head, then looked back up at him. "I don't like Bucky, but your decisions are your own. I think whatever this is will go down in flames. I do wish you the best though, you seem like a good kid."

"I'm older than you." Zeb jested.

"I'm wiser."

"Are you though?"

Two shared a grin before Zeb thanked her.

"I am quite tired and I certainly wasn't expecting this conversation tonight, so I think I'm gonna head out."

"Do you need walked back?"

Zeb shook his head before walking over to Bina, informing her of his departure. She managed a 'later loser' before resuming her conversation. The wind was comfortable compared to the humid heat the season brought. Instead of going home, he decided to head into Seabrook.

Willa wasn't wrong. Before this week, Zeb had only his speculations to go on that Bucky wasn't as bad as he seemed. It was childish of him to hope for something more with him. But he stood by his decision that everyone deserved kindness. Especially the people who didn't get it.

He wandered for a couple minutes before he saw a familiar form. It was Bucky. He looked awful. Something was wrong.

He supposed adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from passing out. He staggered through the streets. The streetlights blurring together into streaks of light. The houses and trees blurring into paint strokes. He didn't know why he didn't dress his wounds before he left. He needed to get out of the house.

Bucky ran into a solid object. Zebediah.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Bucky needed to tell him about him helping him.

"I need to talk to you."

Zebediah looked him up and down. There was worry in his eyes, the same kind that Addison gives him.

"You need to get fixed up. Come on, we have stuff at my house."

He started to walk away.

"No, I'm fine I-"

"Bup bup bup. We are going to fix you up and then you can say whatever you needed to say."

Zebediah softly grabbed his fingers, urging him to follow him. He complied.

He didn't know why he was surprised when they walked through the gate. This was where all zombies lived. Zebediah would be no different. He had been here several times before, never really looking at the scenery, just thinking about how to impress his father. It was all trash. All of it. The house they walked in was barely put together. It was such a contrast to what he was used to. Even inside of Zebediah's room it wasn't much better. Everything in it looked as if it had been taken out of the trash. His nose wrinkled when he realized most of it probably was.

He didn't complain that the bed was uncomfortable, although it definitely was. Zebediah stood in between his legs. He had rags, tape, cotton sheets, a bowl, and a bottle of alcohol.

"It's the best I can do. We don't have any antiseptic, so I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt a lot. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Zebediah cradled the back of his head, wiping the blood from his face. He was soft. The rag dusting over his skin. His eyes fluttered closed and he was calm. Nothing could happen to him.

"Grab my arm if you need to."

Bucky didn't need to grab his arm. He wasn't a baby. Then the sting came and Bucky's eyes snapped open. He squeezed Zebediah's forearm. Hard. Zebediah looked into his eyes to make sure he was okay to continue, then covered the cuts that were still bleeding.

"I need you to take your shirt off."

Bucky started to, but he struggled. He couldn't get his arms over his head. Zebediah reached to help him, grabbing the hem of the collar.

"I can do it myself."

He didn't mean to snap. He just- He didn't need anybody's help. Zebediah removed his hands. Bucky messed with it for a couple of minutes before getting it off. Zebediah began to wipe the blood off of his abdomen. He kneeled in front of him, one hand on Bucky's lap. As he assumed, there were bruises everywhere. Little stamps imitating his father's rings. It stung again. Bucky grabbed his arm. He was certain he was hurting him. Still, he didn't complain. He simply circled to his back.

"There's nothing on your legs, is there?"

Bucky shook his head. The air was freezing when Zebediah took his hand away. He handed Bucky his shirt and left to put everything away. He did feel better, not great, obviously, but better. He wasn't covered in blood. That was good.

Bucky's eyes looked to the doorway as Zebediah entered. He sat on his bed and Bucky turned so they were facing the same way.

"Who did this to you?"

Bucky didn't answer. He knew the question would come up. He wanted to answer, but he knew what would happen if his parents ever got wind of it. To be fair he'd be dead meat if his parents knew where he was right now. Before he could decide Zebediah spoke up again.

"Were you in a fight?"

Bucky shook his head.

"Was it- Was it your parents?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He didn't nod or shake his head. He just stared at his toes, hands fiddling in his lap. It was a while before Bucky built up the courage to say anything at all.

"Please, don't tell anyone."

"But we need to help you. I can't just sit and do nothing."

"Just, please."

Zebediah's face worked, but he nodded. Neither of them spoke for some time. Bucky thought about what he said earlier, and the building curiosity forced him to ask.

"Earlier, you said we have to stop meeting like this. What did you mean? How do I know you?"

Zebediah chuckled, although Bucky couldn't think of what could be funny in this situation. Was it obvious? Was he forgetting some huge event?

"A couple years ago I was out past curfew. I heard somebody knock over a trashcan."

Bucky remembered the night he was talking about, not necessarily what he had done wrong, but certainly the punishment. Thinking back on it, Bucky should have known that the boy was a zombie. He hadn't gotten a good look at his face but he had been staring at his hands. Which were gray. And his clothes, no Seabrook citizen would go out dressed like that, even at night. Even then, he still thought about that encounter every now and then. He remembered his voice. It had lowered since then but it still had that same quality. This beautiful melodic tone that sucked you in, made you listen. How in the hell had he not recognized it?

"It's getting kind of late."

Bucky stilled at the thought of going home.

"You could stay if you like."

He let himself sink back into the bed, nodding his head gratefully.

"I don't have extra blankets or anything, but you can take the bed."

Zebediah went to leave the room and Bucky panicked. He couldn't be in here alone.

"Wait," Zebediah turned to look at him. "Could you sit by me?"

His eyes widened. Bucky shied away from his gaze, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was his turn to be surprised when he felt the bed dip. Zebediah sat at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. Bucky hesitantly moved to sit next to him. They sat silently for a while before Zebediah started talking.

"You know, you're gonna be great someday. Not that you're not great now. You're gonna get out of Seabrook. Find a big house, probably like four bedrooms with a pool in the backyard. You'll get a membership to the gym down the street."

It was soothing. So soothing that Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes close and his mind shut off.

Zebediah was in the middle of his story when Bucky fell on his lap. He pet his hair. This is why he did it, why he was so ceaselessly nice. Because you never knew what someone was hiding. Aware that his position was not the best for his back he tried to shift Bucky as best as he could into a lying position. He was going to sleep on the couch, but Bucky grabbed his arm. Zeb could've pulled away if he wanted, but he didn't want to hurt Bucky in any way. He laid on the bed, careful not to bump him. He was hyper-aware of every single move he made. He didn't want to do anything that could further injure him or make him uncomfortable.

Zeb had settled into a half-sleep when he felt an arm wrap around him. He startled awake before remembering Bucky was here. This was a dream come true. Zeb managed to settle back into a comfortable dream state.

Part Four

#disney zombies #z o m b i e s #disney channel original movie #disneys zombies #disney #z-o-m-b-i-e-s #bucky buchanan #bucky zombies #if you only knew you'd hate me #buckediah #chapter three #tw: swearing #tw: abuse #tw: violence

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musesandmagick · 4 years

Text

The Violet Gala

In collaboration with @the-siren-saga and @penthepoet

Ah, the Violet Gala. The social event of the year, many said. The rarest of occasions, when the doors of House Aversen were opened to any and all-- well, so long as they had the means to pay. Of course, not everyone bought the official PR. It was well known, in certain circles, what the true purpose of this “celebration” was, and there were those who wanted nothing more than to undermine it in the most glorious ways possible.

Among those were the famous information dealer, Moirah Averil, and her assistant, Uvall. Their purpose? Espionage, mostly, and support for Laen Adaire, who had come looking for his sister.

“Moirah, you look absolutely ridiculous,” Uvall said, looking at his boss’s Gala attire, a deep blue silk sari held together by a pin in the shape of a diamond encrusted scarab. “Beautiful, but ridiculous. I think I’m just surprised to see you in a dress.”

“That’s the point, though, isn’t it?” Moirah asked. “They see me… like this, they won’t know it’s me. It’s like, um…” She searched for an example. “How no one knows Clark Kent is Superman until he takes the glasses off. Yeah, that's exactly it.”

Uvall was a bit confused by this remark, not being quite as well-versed in human pop culture. “...Come again?” he asked.

“Oh, never mind. Here, put this on, it’ll let us stay in contact more easily.” She handed him a small circular patch, which he then stuck under his ear. It quickly changed color to match his skin tone, becoming completely invisible. “Wireless invisible communicators. U.M.E.E.C. tech. How’s it working?”

Uvall jumped in surprise as Moirah’s voice came out in his ear. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think we’re good. You should go see how Leo and Laen are holding up.”

Leo Burton and Laen Adaire were in another room of the apartment, talking amongst themselves about how terrible of an idea this was.

“I give it an hour, maximum, before one of them figures out who we are,” Laen was muttering, voice entirely deadpan and not at all hopeful despite the way he was already reaching his mind out as if ‘feeling’ for his sister would be any easier in such a messy-minded place. The only thing it was accomplishing was making his headache worse. “Even less time for my brainwashed sister to raise the alarms when she realises I’m here. Remind me why I agreed to this...”

"Because the hour it'll take for someone to figure out who we are is more than enough time to get in, reestablish a link with your sister, and get out?" Leo asked, ever the strategist. "No one is going to suspect a thing, I promise you. Your cover story is that you're here as a reporter for the society column of some newspaper in Mistria. Go around asking people banal questions about who designed their gowns and shit until you find her, it'll be fine."

“Empty promises followed by banal questions.” Laen sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “My two favourite things.” Glancing up at the sound of movement outside, he breathed a relieved sigh as Uvall came into view. “Are we ready? Can we get this over with yet?”

"Yeah, I think we're ready," Uvall said. "Moirah told me to give you these. Just stick them below your ears so we can all hear each other." He handed each of them a communication patch. It was clear he was worried about this after his last encounter with Marchosias at the re-education facility, though he hid it well. "I also feel like we need to lay down some ground rules. Rule number one, don't talk to Marchosias. Don't approach him. If he approaches you, make up an excuse, pretend you see your date across the room, whatever. Just do anything you can to minimize contact with him as much as possible. Rule number two, do not draw attention to yourselves. Everyone here is trying to catch his eye. Only be as ostentatious as you need to be in order to fit in. Rule number three, this should be obvious, but do not break cover. As far as anyone knows, you're Aliya Friel and Lochlann Kenzou, society columnists."

Leo pouted. "I had a different cover story."

"You did, but it was a bad one."

“Got it.” Laen nodded sharply, obedient despite himself, and quickly applied the communication patch, trying not to actively wince at the thought of yet more voices in his head that weren’t his sister’s. “If that’s all, let’s get this done.”

Leo applied her patch as well, though she was grateful for the ability to stay in contact with the others. "Yeah, let's. I'll be right here if you need anything, Laen." She gestured to her comm patch, in a somewhat inelegant way. "Don't go disappearing on me," she said, trying her hardest not to reveal how terrified she secretly was of something happening to him.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he hummed, just barely a joke.

The three of them walked out to meet Moirah, who was waiting by the entrance. "Uvall, did you give them the patches?"

"Yeah. We're all set," he answered, offering his arm to Moirah, which she took. You know, the most insane thing about this whole plan is how anyone's gonna buy that we're straight.

Tell me about it, Moirah thought back at him, cracking a smile. "Let's go on in, then."

Laen had never seen anything so grand in his life, and for a moment he could see why Laurien was so taken by it all. A huge ballroom, bustling with activity; people from all walks of life dressed lavishly in the nicest silks and lace. Purple drapery and beautiful music… His sister had always been fascinated with the more indulgent things in life and this looked like what he imagined her paradise would be.

The more indulgent things in life made Laen sick to the stomach. And to know how this came about, and the purpose behind it all, only solidified that feeling. Just about suppressing a grimace, he was glad -- and not for the first time -- that he at least would have Leo’s more-.. positive attitude to lean on.

There were other well-known Dekn Masters there, too. Pruflas, for example - the Dekn Master of Quarrels and Shapeshifting - was standing tall with a drink in his hand. Or, rather, his paw - he did have on a glamour that made it look as if he were a humanoid lion. By his side was the most anxious-looking assistant imaginable - Juniper Azure Ancarra, already being spoken of in the Courts as a person of great potential.

“Juniper, my fellow, cheer up!” Pruflas’ voice boomed, making Juniper’s eyes widen. Pruflas handed Juniper a glass, urging them to “drink, please - it will help you loosen up.”

The lion-headed Dekn Master paused, looking around before lowering his voice. “Look, I hate this as much as you. But you have to at least appear as if it’s the finest night of your life. We can slip out after Aversen makes his important announcement, I won’t be indulging his foolishness any longer.”

Leo was either the most convincing actress in the Lathrym, or genuinely enjoying the decadent scene that lay spread out before her. "I wasn't expecting it to be this beautiful," she breathed, dragging Laen by the hand to a buffet where several Dekn delicacies were available for sampling. Laen briefly wondered if it was like the human legends of the Fae, and one bite of these strange and appetizing dishes would cause him to lose his appetite for anything else. "It's like walking into a dream. I can understand why so many people get a taste of this world, and just… disappear into it."

"It seems so superfluous to me," Laen said with a visible cringe, wisely choosing to abstain from any kind of intoxicating beverages for the time being and giving his companion a disbelieving look when she began to pour herself a flute of champagne. "What were you expecting, if not this? Don't drink that, by the way. We need our wits about us tonight."

Leo shrugged her shoulders in response. "I dunno," she confessed. "I guess I was expecting a little less Pride and Prejudice and a little more Eyes Wide Shut."

Laen briefly glared at Leo, then walked off to "interview" the most un-Purple Rose-like person he could find, a vibrant, intimidating woman with striking auburn hair. If he was going to waste his time suffering through the Violet Gala as a society columnist of all things, he was at least going to waste it on someone with something between their ears.

"Ma'am? Excuse me ma'am?" He called, putting on his best 'annoying but curious' voice and trying not to outwardly grimace at himself. "Lochlann Kenzou, society columnist. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

She’d been talking to an up-and-coming actor in the Dekn theatre and opera scene - Ariarathes, a youth of incredible musical prowess who was dressed in a peacock-hued, flamboyant robe complete with actual peacock feathers. “I.. I really admire you, Morgaine, I think your work is stunning and I really look up to that series of photos you did..”

The intimidating Dekn woman swiftly turned to face Laen, her sharp eyes looking at him– into him– in a somewhat invasive manner. "You're looking for someone else," she simply stated, lowering her voice so as to not be overheard by prying ears. "It's written all over you. And I know it's not our gracious host you're looking for." Her voice seemed laced with sarcasm, as if she didn't want to be there any more than he did.

Laen deflated a bit. Less than ten minutes into the evening and he'd already gotten himself discovered. He was terrible at this. "Who is this person?" he whispered.

The voice of Moirah Averil echoed through his earpatch. "That's Morgaine Cyprien," she muttered. "One of the biggest names in the avant-garde art scene right now. Marchosias hates her… I wonder why she's here?"

Morgaine cleared her throat in a more conspicuous manner. "Why, yes, I would be honored to be interviewed for such a prestigious publication," she said more loudly this time, in a manner that made abundantly sure that those around could hear her, as she firmly grabbed Laen's upper arm. "I'm sure that by the grace of the Master of Beguilement, a room has been left open for more… private activities?"

Laen gave Morgaine an indignant look. "An interview," he clarified to those present, "she means an interview."

Of course I mean an interview, Morgaine's voice sighed in his mind. Everyone here has a highly specific image of me in mind, and I've learned quickly that the best way to avoid suspicion is to give them exactly what they're expecting.

That was fair, he supposed, brushing off the deep crawling under his skin that telepathy with anyone but Laurien gave him. Just about managing not to glance around at the eyes he knew must be burning into his back right now, he offered her a gracious nod and what he hoped was a knowing-but-not-suspicious smile, he followed where she led him.

Where she led him turned out to be a sitting room with an easel and canvas set up. "You can stop pretending to be a society columnist now," she said once the door was shut and locked. "I can plainly see that you couldn't care less about what goes on here. If you did care, I wouldn't have let you near me." She led him to an armchair and crouched in front of him, then did that thing again, fixing her eyes upon him in a way that made him feel like his soul was being laid bare before her.

When Morgaine next spoke, she seemed entranced. "You're a strange one. Such depths of caring and protectiveness, but something's standing in the way. And that power… beautiful. An inheritance, passed down through generations and finally finding its way to the two of you." She swept a stray strand of hair out of his face, her hand brushing against his cheek in a way that would've seemed like a maternal caress if he had known her for more than five minutes. "Twin souls, united across the great divide. Would you indulge me by sitting for a portrait?"

A portrait? Laen quirked a brow at that, blinking a few times as her touch startled him. Quite without thinking, he shuffled to sit; staring at her with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “How do you know so much about me? And could you, perhaps, stop?”

"I see into people," Morgaine stated simply. "I see their light and shadow and all that lies between. To stop myself from seeing it would be like giving up the ability to perceive color." She began to work on the portrait, murmuring softly to herself. "Marchosias himself once volunteered as one of my subjects," she divulged as she worked, "and I thank the Hethe every day that he wasn't yet powerful enough to do anything but throw a tantrum when my work showed him as he truly was rather than how he aimed to be seen."

“So what are you doing here?” he wondered, frowning just a little, “I doubt Marchosias would be too happy to see you at his Gala. Or are you one he has a sick fascination with -- I’ve heard he likes to keep lists of people he thinks he’ll have eventually.”

Morgaine seemed more focused on her work than on him, but still, she answered. "I doubt I intrigue or threaten him enough to get a spot on his little list," she said coolly. Laen couldn't decide how to read her tone. "But year after year, the bastard invites me, and year after year, I've declined."

"So what makes this year different?"

"Intuition told me that there was going to be something different about this one." Morgaine closed her eyes for a moment, pausing her work. "Laurien Adaire. That's her name, correct? The other half of your soul?"

“The other half--” Laen’s throat went dry at the thought of that. It was what they’d called each other for years, no? But somehow, now, in the midst of all this trouble, the thought of that actually being a truth and not some child’s fantasy was-.. Painful to think about. “...yes. That’s my twin sister.”

Morgaine opened her eyes, looking to Laen with… sympathy? Pity? Whatever it was, he couldn't decide if he cared for it or not. "There is an invisible thread connecting you. It grows thinner by the day. If you can get to her tonight, if you can reach her for long enough to strengthen the link… you will sustain her, even if only for long enough to bring her home."

“And how do I do that?” Laen couldn’t help the urgency in his voice as he leaned forward; the desperation and impatience that seemed to permeate almost everything he said these days, “How do I even get close to her here, without her raising the alarm?”

"Most are not so perceptive as I. I only saw you because I was looking for you. You have a gift– you can slip into the crowd unnoticed and emerge from it untouched." It was then that Morgaine ceased her work, looking deeply into Laen's eyes once again. "Use this gift to your advantage."

★

Outside in the main ballroom, Leonora Burton was enjoying the gala as if she were any other attendee, partaking of various delicacies, dancing with other guests– "don't worry, my date for the night said I could feel free to enjoy myself!" she would say with a rather convincing girlish giggle– and, of course, keeping a sharp eye on the Purple Rose members and their admirers who stood clustered around the central stairwell.

It took her a little while to be certain, but she finally realized what she'd suspected all along. The one standing on the far left of the platform was the one they were looking for.

Oh, fuck, oh fuck, do NOT make me go up there, I don't want this, I'm supposed to stay away from him, this won't end well–

She took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs to the platform where Marchosias was holding court with his many admirers and worshippers. With every step, she found it harder to think, harder to look away from him. It would be so easy to disappear into all of this. She refused. She had a mission, and she intended to complete it.

"Are you Moss Rose?" she asked, coming to stand next to Laurien. "I'm Aliya Friel, my boyfriend's a society columnist from Mistria. We're both very interested in the life of an Arkn member of the Society of the Purple Rose. Would you be so gracious as to grant us an interview?"

Laurien had to admit, she’d been so enthralled by watching the people dance and all the lovely decorations that she hadn’t even noticed the stranger approach before she’d started talking. With a start and a wide grin, she offered ‘Aliya’ a welcoming nod; frantically trying to remember her etiquette while in such esteemed company. “Yes, that’s me! It’s so lovely to meet you -- I’m happy to answer any and all questions you might have.” Glancing around again, she frowned as if she’d only just truly noticed where she was. Tucking a carefully-curled strand of hair behind her ear, she gave a startled giggle, unnerving in its innocence. “Oh! It’s so noisy here, though: perhaps we should head further into the hall? I know there are some quiet spaces somewhere here, for discussion and such -- our Lord’s graces permitting, of course~”

Damn it, she needs his permission. "Well, then, I see no reason why we shouldn't ask," Leo giggled, still playing the part of the giggly, somewhat ditzy socialite as she made her way to the spot on the platform where the fog was densest. Every step seemed a constant fight not just to maintain control, but to seem as if she wasn't trying at all.

Malistrade and Montezuma, two other members of the Society, appeared to be gathered at a cocktail table nearby, Malistrade keeping an eye on Laurien before he turned towards Montezuma. “Montezuma, I see you looking at Tea. Please, I’d advise you to ensure our Master doesn’t see you.” Montezuma couldn’t help but sigh as he turned away, missing Leo walking up to Marchosias, with Laurien trailing just behind.

"Master of Beguilement," Leo said with a respectful nod as she approached the center of the platform, Laurien following closely. "It's an honor and a pleasure to be here tonight. I'm Aliya Friel, I'm here with Lochlann Kenzou. May I please have permission to take Moss Rose for an interview?"

Marchosias gave a charming smile, reaching out to stroke Laurien's cheek as casually as one would pet a cat. "Of course you may," he answered. "Just take care to bring her back soon. My little Moss Rose gets somewhat upset when she's away from me for too long." Right at Marchosias’ arm was Tea, who seemed to be wearing what looked like an incredibly intricate torque-collar and leash. “Yeah,” Tea chimed in, “please bring her back to us safe and sound! She’s like a sister to me.”

Leo tried not to think about how wrong the entire scene felt to her as she got away from Tea and Marchosias.

Leo. Leo, what are you doing? Uvall's voice crackled through the earpatch. I saw you talking to him.

"Hey, I didn't expect to have to ask permission to take her off of the stairwell, okay? And I'm fine."

Laurien, meanwhile, was deeply engrossed in how romantic this all was. So many people gathered, dancing and talking and drinking and laughing and they were all so beautiful. A pretty woman wanted to take her from her Lord’s side just to speak with her, about her, and her Lord had allowed it! She felt beautiful. She felt admired. She felt like the jewel in a crown, so shining and decorative in such valuable surroundings, and as she led her new friend through the crowd she beamed at all who passed; being sure to show the joy and grace her Lord had taught her -- practiced and poised, but a little clumsy, just to show she was still His child and could never outshine Him.

"Do you like my dress? My Lord Himself picked it out for me!" She gave a little spin, giggling gleefully as she led Leo into a quiet side room and closed the door. Her wings, constantly manifested as a show of how very special she was to be an Arkn here among her Lord's court, shimmered and shook with her glee; shining pink to match her pastel purple dress. "Isn't all this so wonderful!"

"You look beautiful indeed," Leo agreed with an enthusiastic laugh. Gods, she was not prepared for this, not prepared to sit across from a woman who was once so full of life and who now looked like a porcelain doll. Disguising her motion by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she reached to turn on recording– and also, to allow the others connected through the earpatch network to hear what Laurien was saying. "So, to start… A lot of the inner workings of the Society of the Purple Rose are shrouded in mystery. Most don't really know its true purpose, but when you see a crowd of beautiful people who seem to have been hand-picked by the Dekn Master of Beguilement and Debauchery, it does get the mind going. Is there any insight you can provide into this mysterious, intriguing world that so few are ever privileged enough to see?"

"Oh! Well, the Society is many, many things to different people," Lauri hummed, her posture growing practiced and poised even with the childish grin that accompanied her words, "To me it's a refuge from the people who would hurt me and make me something I'm not -- my Lord has given me an environment where I can truly be myself without judgement, and I fit in here in my own way without having to change who I am for someone else."

"Bastard." Laen's voice muttered through the network, listening intently to his sister as she spoke (though indirectly) to him for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"But as a whole we are a refuge, home, and a movement really! There are so many terrible people across all of the realms and my Lord wants to change that -- to unite everyone, Dekn and Arkn-" She gave a proud shimmy of her wings at that, "-and maybe even humans someday soon! All He asks is our love and devotion, and in return he will shape and love us all as we are, not as the other powers think we should be."

"About humans," Leo said. "There are… well, there are reports that SEEKER has gotten involved in Purple Rose activities in the past? I'm sure these are just rumors, but if your Lord has been meddling in the Seeds… You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but is it true? That SEEKER has investigated you."

The mention of SEEKER had Laurien paling, her gaze lowering to the floor for a moment as her mind travelled back over the events before the Gala. "SEEKER have no business with my Lord," she said, her voice almost a whisper, and left it at that.

Even Laen remained silent, the guilt and fury he felt almost tangible even through the network.

Leo tried to hide the fact that her heart was breaking. "Well," she said briskly, changing the subject. "On a different note. Do you think you can tell me a bit about what your life is like in the Society, day to day? I know that a lot is probably meant to stay private, but my readers want to know." She gave another girlish laugh, finding it almost disconcerting how easily she slipped into the role of happy-go-lucky society columnist.

Taking in a deep breath, the speed at which Laurien's darker thoughts were shoved aside was practically visible in her eyes as she plastered on another smile, her already heavily-blushed cheeks darkening with the question. "Well I couldn't possibly tell you everything, but… well, most of my days I wake up, say my thanks to my Lord for the blessings I'm given, then go about my devotions. He lets us do what we like, so it's different every day! Sometimes I work on my poise and appearance, sometimes I help other Society members with their troubles, sometimes when I'm particularly lucky or upset I just enjoy His company and His Divine energy. It's-- not so easy to explain, really! My days are so different and wonderful, it's like whole weeks go by in seconds~"

"So… the Society of the Purple Rose has quite a high opinion of Baelbaurith Aversen," Leo said, taking great pains to refer to him only in mortal terms, rather than making any indication that she could possibly be persuaded to see him as some kind of deity. "Calling him 'my Lord' and such. Does it bother you that people outside of the Society might consider this all to be… you know…" A cult? she wanted to ask. "A bit over the top. After all, he is known for his ego, among other things."

"My Lord Elucidis is prideful it's true, but not to the point of losing humility and charity," Lauri insisted, a little defensive despite her carefully welcoming tone. "I can understand from the outside why our Society would seem strange -- I thought it suspicious myself, when I was misguided and naïve." The bitterness in her voice was audible, but the smile on her lips remained gentle and excited, "All I can say to those who are suspicious of us is to come and see for yourself. It can be hard to understand real, positive change until you experience it firsthand."

"This goes without saying, but don't listen to her," Moirah said coldly through the earpatch.

"I'm aware," Leo muttered. "Yes, that's very good advice, I'll be sure to put that in my write-up on the Society! Anyway, I think it's about time for my partner to come in– he's doing the profile on you specifically, I'm just researching the Society as a whole." It was amazing how well the lies flowed from her lips. "Lochlann, we're ready for you," she said through the earpiece.

Laen didn't hesitate. With scarcely a gracious goodbye to his current company, he hurried (as inconspicuously as possible) to join Leo and Lauri in their room, hesitating for a moment outside the door. Their family relic, tucked safely in his inside pocket, was buzzing with energy the closer he got to her, and not for the first time he was terrified to see her again. He knew how much she'd have changed, and to see her that way…

Clenching his jaw, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His heart all but shattered with how long it took her to recognise him. He watched her gaze shine from curious welcome, to dull shock, to silent outrage, and for a moment he panicked -- unsure now he was here what he should do.

"Laen. You--" Laurien glanced between Laen and Leo, putting two and two together with the blistering speed he was used to seeing. "Moirah put you up to this, didn't she? Your friend is SEEKER too isn't she! Oh, I should have known, wait until my Lord hears about-"

Moving on sheer instinct, Laen shot forward, tugging their relic from his pocket and holding it towards her. In an instant, Laurien fell sharply silent, swallowing heavily as she gazed upon the strange little thing, littered with runes and tied as it was to the rope they used to take it in turns to throw around themselves. They made it quite the fashion accessory as children, didn't they…

Laen took her hand, pressing the artefact between their palms.

'You still feel me, don't you," he murmured, breathing out the breath he held as she nodded. "Do you still hear me?"

"I do."

"This is who we are, sister." Laen glanced at Leo as they communicated, offering her a nod to show it was working, before returning his attention to Lauri, "Whatever he made you is a lie. Through everything, this is us. We are together for all time. You know that as well as I."

"I'm happy here."

"You're living somebody else's lie."

"I chose this."

"You can choose to walk away."

"I don't need you."

"I know. But I need you."

The twins stared at each other for what felt like days, identical eyes burning into each other with the kind of silent understanding that only came with time. Laurien's eyes watered and overflowed with the force of her brother's emotions, and his with her's. For a time, all that existed was them.

But just as it always had, it came to an end. The muffled music outside changed to a gentle, mesmerising tune, and Laurien glanced towards the door with a shaken gasp.

"You two should leave," she murmured, sullen and dejected as she forced her hands from his, avoiding eye contact with either of them. "If He finds out who you all are and that you're here…"

She blinked and shivered, sucking in a breath as she put on the practiced poise once more. "Just go. All of you. If I find out Moirah is here I won't hesitate to tell my Lord."

For the first time, that felt more like a warning than a threat.

This didn't go unnoticed by Leo, who looked furtively towards Laen. "We should, um… we should go. Now."

Laen watched his sister leave the room with a clenched jaw and a dark snarl, lifting a hand automatically to his patch to speak with the others. "We're pulling out. I got what I came for. I'd rather not see what comes next."

But Marchosias’ voice stopped them before they could, as well as the crowd of people going up towards the front of the room to hear his announcement. “Ladies and gentlefolk, I have a wonderful announcement to make.”

He was up at the front, dressed in the finest attire of the evening - a traditional, incredibly-formal black Dekn suit with gold accents. His smile was like a lion baring its fangs: both incredibly beautiful and incredibly terrifying to see. His hands were clasped, his eyes trained out at the crowd.

“Here in the Society of the Purple Rose, we have.. rituals, one might say, that help us determine the finest amongst Lathrymites to crown as Esteemed - those from whom we can learn and grow. The highest of the high, after all, can climb ever higher in the heart of our little family.” He walked up to where a huge curtain was obscuring something.

"Can I set his suit on fire?" Leo hissed. "Please?"

Laen grunted in response, but the message was clear. Don't do anything that could draw attention.

“You see, during one of these rituals, my Consort came upon a most talented youth - a boy who knew more about fine Lathrymite literature than any other on Ersis, a boy of such talent that he endured eternities worth of torture and came back having carved out his captor’s hand and eye! What resilience! What a fire.” His eyes seemed to have a rather covetous, amused glint to them as he continued.

“We here at the Society of the Purple Rose can all learn from his tenacity and keen cunning. Therefore, I am beyond delighted to present to you our symbol of the canonization, and our announcement, of our newest Saint..”

He pulled down the purple curtain, his grin growing even wider as it dropped.

What was underneath was a gleaming stained-glass window of a cloaked figure, wrapped in thorns and holding what appeared to be a falling star.

“The Scholar!”

"Oh, he's going to love this," Moirah muttered to her disbelieving assistant.

Leo smiled innocently at her companion. Just as Marchosias was reveling in his triumph, his suit just so happened to catch fire.

A perfect ending to a perfect evening.

#arknverse #arkn x #arkn legacy #arkn #pink and purple #society of the purple rose #v:arkn #drabble

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shhh-no-ones-home · 5 years

Text

gifted* (1/2) chris motionless x reader

+++++++++

Hello yes the motionless streak has not ended, I am so sorry I am not obsessed with anything else right now lol. Also I still need everyone to know that I hate writing for real people and all of these are def au's oops. Also for some reason all these smuts are with Chris so sorry bout that I guess he's the only one I know enough about to write like that 😅🤷

* - if you're not comfortable reading/talking about toys and toy use this one probably isn't for you but I encourage yall to read anyways because fuck the stigma ya know

Song: lovin every minute of it by loverboy

+++++++++

I walked slowly into our shared bedroom, kicking the door halfway closed as I did. Chris was sitting at the end of the bed playing a video game, offering a small hello but never removing his gaze from the TV. I climbed up on the large bed and sat behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around him, watching the screen just as intently.

"You having fun?"

I asked. He nodded, his focus not changing as he bit his lip in frustration. I kissed his shoulder, moving my hands to his sides.

"That's good baby."

I sat up, rubbing my hands over his shoulders now, giving him a massage. As I pushed my hands around his back he never moved his gaze, just leaned into my touch. At least I knew he was enjoying himself even if he didn't say anything. Then I ran my nails lightly down the center of his clothes back. He hummed in response.

"As much as I'm loving the back rub you wanna do that instead?"

He paused his game and turned to look at me. I smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"I'd love too. But I need this off."

I pulled at the shoulder of his shirt. He nodded and pulled it off, returning back to his game after it was on the bed next to him.

"Lemme know if you get tired of the feeling or anything and I'll quit."

He nodded. I knew he wouldn't get tired of it but I always made sure to tell him because I knew I hated the feeling after a while. Damn sensory overload. I shook my head at the thought and got to work, slowly running my nails over his shoulder blades. As I moved my hands down and around his back I watched in fascination at how his tattoos seemed to change color under my touch. I wasn't digging my nails in too deep but skin just did that I guess. It was really fascinating. As I reached the base of his pants I ran my nails all the way back up his spine and he shivered. I went to move to his head now, scratching at his scalp. That's when he paused the game again. He leaned back into me as I scratched and rubbed his head. I watched his facial expression change as his eyes closed. I knew how much he loved the feeling and smiled to myself. Then there was a knock at the door and his eyes snapped open. He looked up at me as I took my hand from his head.

"Do you have to go get that?"

I laughed at him.

"Yes Chris, it's nice to answer the door when people knock."

I laughed at him and stood up off the bed.

"I'll be right back baby I promise."

I rushed down the stairs and swung the door open quickly, being met with the delivery man holding a medium sized package. I smiled, half at him and half at the thought of what I had ordered.

"Good afternoon ma'am."

"Good afternoon."

I said as he offered me the small pen to sign. After he handed me the box he said a small 'good day' and left without another word. I thanked him and closed the door, practically running up the stairs to open the box. When I pushed the door open Chris looked at me, then to the box, then back to his game.

"You ordered something?"

I nodded.

"Yep."

"Ooo what is it?"

He said excitedly. I just smiled to myself.

"Guess you're gonna have to wait and see."

He paused the game and looked back at me as I set it on the bed.

"You always tell me what you order."

I laughed.

"Yeah but I wanted this one to be a surprise."

I winked at him and pulled the box cutter out of his nightstand.

"Just go back to your game, I wanna make sure it's all here."

He rolled his eyes and turned back around.

"Whatever."

I watched as he turned back to the game and started playing again. Then I returned my attention to the box, gliding the box cutter across the tape and popping it open. On the very top of everything was an order summary, it listed everything in the box and I checked through it before pulling the poppy paper out. Chris was really in for treat on this one. I pulled the poppy paper to the side and checked with the list to make sure everything was there and it was, I smiled to myself.

"So, do I get to know now?"

He said without moving away from his game. I climbed up on the bed and kissed his shoulder like I had done before, this time slower as I ran my hands up his sides.

"You gonna turn that off?"

I said in a low voice. He paused it and turned to look at me and I smirked at him.

"Oh?"

I rubbed my thumbs in circles against his sides. He saved his progress, getting up and turning the TV off. When he turned back around I was sat in the middle of the bed with the box in between my legs. He stood at the end of the bed and tried to peer into to the box. I closed it and put a finger up.

"Ah ah, no peaking."

He raised a brow and gave me a 'really?' face. I looked up at him, testing him before half opening the box.

"You ready to see what I got?"

He smiled at me and nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed, on leg on the ground and one on the bed, his body turned to me. I reached into the box and pulled out a new box of condoms. He smiled at me and laughed. It was a brand I'd been wanting to try and finally got around to it.

"Does this box have a theme?"

He asked in amusement. I winked at him.

"You'll see."

I tossed them at him and he looked over the box. Then I pulled out two travel size lube bottles from the same brand.

"Two?"

He asked.

"One for you and one for me."

"Oh?"

He asked.

"Yeah, I got you something else for when your on the road. And don't hate me cause we haven't talked about it but I figured it would help our Skype calls."

He raised a brow at me and I pulled out a solid black cased fleshlight. His eyes went wide.

"You really want me to use that?"

I shrugged and offered it to him.

"You don't have to but I figured it might be something we can try. I also got something for me to use during our Skype calls."

He set it down on the bed and sent me a look.

"And what's that?"

He said in a low voice. I smiled at him and pulled out a solid black, dual end vibrator.

"This, but we could also use it whenever, ya know, not just on video calls."

I winked at him and his face flushed red.

"Could we use it now?"

+++

Part 2

#wattpad #x reader #one shot #imagine #miw #chris motionless #smut #131

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sunyoonandstars · 5 years

Text

BTS One Shot ||𝒫𝓇ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓈ℯ|| You x Jimin

〖 Requested 〗

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting. 💓💓 And sorry this took ages. Hope you still enjoy the result. XO

angst, fluff

Word Count 1.792

𝒫𝓇ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓈ℯ

You could clearly tell the moment Jimin had entered your hotel room. That something was wrong. And profoundly so.

"Hey, babe. You're home!" you welcomed him, cheerful, as you spun around in your seat on the sofa and put your arms up on the headrest, chin residing on your folded hands while you looked up at your boyfriend, smiling in anticipation for his affectionate greeting, waiting for any sort of reaction as he passed you by. But Jimin did not as much as look at you.

Head hanging low, hands buried in the long sleeves of his oversized jumper, he made his way through the living area straight to the bathroom, dragging his feet, and you had a feeling it was not only the exhaustion from the performance he just concluded that had drained Jimin of his natural warmth and energy.

As soon as he closed the bathroom door behind himself and you could hear the bolt catch, telling you Jimin did not just close the door but locked it, you got up from the couch and followed him.

Something wasn't right, your gut feeling never lied.

"Jimin?"

Softly, you knocked on the door. Once. Twice. You waited, knocked again. But there was no response, no sound at all coming from inside.

"Jiminie? Baby?"

One ear pressed to the wood, you were almost sure you could hear him sniffling, quietly sobbing.

The thought of Jimin crying in self-chosen isolation on the cold bathroom floor, all by himself with no one to hold him, no one to lean on, broke your heart.

"Hey, Jiminie? What's wrong, baby? Won't you let me in?"

Silence.

"Please, open the door, baby. Don't lock me out."

For another minute, you waited, urging yourself to be patient, to hold back just a little while longer, to give Jimin time and space until he was ready to open up and talk to you. But your heart was pounding against your rib cage, imploring you to break down this door if that was what it would take to be by Jimin's side, hold him tight and take away his pain. Knowing him, however, that was not the way to go. You had to give him breathing room, allow Jimin to come to you, to let you in.

Another few minutes of silence went by before you could finally hear movement coming from the other side of the door, and the lock clicked open.

Face puffy and eyes red-rimmed, Jimin blinked at you against the bright light flooding the living room.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I – I just didn't want you to see me like this."

Without meeting your eye, Jimin averted his face, lowering his head again, hiding behind a curtain of damp hair.

"I'm pathetic," you could hear him mumble as Jimin retreated into the bathroom, sinking to the floor next to the shower cabinet.

"No. No!" Quickly, you hurried to his side, squatting down before him, keeping your distance, however, giving him room. "No, babe, you're not. You're nothing short of magnificent, and you know it."

"Yeah, sure," he scoffed, his words followed by a bitter chuckle.

"Not a big fan of this attitude of yours tonight," you joked, anticipating a reluctant smirk to spread across Jimin's tear-stained features. Because, usually, you never failed to make him smile. This time, however, his grin remained absent. He didn't show any reaction at all.

With a sigh, you sat down next to him, observing Jimin's every movement while you hesitantly reached for his hand. When he didn't pull back, you laced your fingers through his, your thumb drawing soothing circles against the soft skin of his palm.

With a stifled sniffle, Jimin leaned closer and put his head on your shoulder.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you asked into the quiet. "Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"You won't understand."

"But I can try." You paused. "Did something happen at the concert? Is it because I didn't come?"

"No. That's not it. I know you had your reasons."

"Then what is it? Hmm?"

He stayed silent.

"Jimin, baby, talk to me, please. So I can make it right."

"It's just –" His voice cracked.

You could feel Jimin's body trembling against yours. Sniveling, he reached up to dry his tears.

"I failed, Y/n. I disappointed my fans tonight. My incredible fans who probably flew hundreds of miles just to see me, us, perform. Thousands of them. And I failed them all. I failed our ARMY."

At this point, Jimin was being shaken by silent sobs, crying uncontrollably now that he had let his guard down.

"No, Jimin, you didn't. Baby, you didn't! I know for a fact that you didn't. You could never disappoint them."

"But, I did! I messed up, Y/n! It's official. I'm a lousy singer, okay!? And I have thousands of witnesses who can back me up on that," he talked himself into a rage, hands tearing at his own hair. "I'm a failure. An embarrassment. Even an amateur could have hit that note, but I didn't. I ruined it. I wrecked my solo tonight. The best part of it. And I can assure you, there was not one single person in that arena who missed my mistake. Even a layman could tell that I screwed up. Big time. And I can never undo that. I just – I wish I could turn back time and do a better job. To give our ARMYs what they deserve, what they probably spent hundreds of dollars to see."

Now, Jimin fell quiet, hanging his head in shame. The sight of it and the urgency in his quivering voice, the sincerity of his words, broke your heart.

Your own eyes filled with tears, you climbed onto his lap and cupped Jimin's face with your palms, gently lifting his chin so he would have no choice but to look you in the eye when you spoke up again.

"Jimin, baby. You're not perfect, you're only human, and humans make mistakes sometimes. Your might have body failed you, but that was not your fault."

You could tell just from the look in his eyes that Jimin struggled to believe your words. But part of him still fought them. A part of Jimin that blamed himself, loathed himself, would always put him down.

"You did basically perform nonstop this past week, singing your lungs off every night, and your fans are aware of that," you continued, drying his cheeks while your own were covered with tears. "They adore you. And they know you always give at least 120%, that you do your very best on stage, every single time. That you go above and beyond the call of duty to be your best self for them, to give back to your ARMY what they gave you and more. I'm sure they don't blame you for missing one note. Instead, I bet they're worried about you, concerned for your health. Your voice does sound a little hoarse. Maybe you just need some rest, hmm?"

"That's what my coach said, too."

"See? You did nothing wrong. And even if you did, it's not the end of the world, baby." You leaned closer to place a quick peck on his nose, your gaze boring into his as Jimin looked up at you, still teary-eyed, his glance overflowing with fondness. "There will always be another time, another chance to shine, to make it right, to do better. Just like there will always be days like these when things just don't seem to go your way. But the good days outweigh the bad ones, by far. For all the times you failed, there are hundreds of times you did so much better. And I can tell you that you're many things, Park Jimin, but you're not a lousy singer. You hear me? Your voice is magic. Pure bliss. It’s a gift. And you worked so hard for it, you still do, every day. So, please, don't put yourself down over one little mistake."

"Y/n –"

"I know, I know. Easier said than done. And I have no idea what I'm talking about. Blah blah."

Finally, you managed to elicit just the hint of a smile from him.

"But I do. I know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Because I've seen you perform. I've witnessed the magic first hand, so many times I lost count. And you know what? You're enrapturing, Park Jimin."

Cheeks flushed, he smiled at you through tears, covering his face with both his hands, flustered.

"Oh, stop it, Y/n."

"But I'm serious, Jimin. Up there, in the spotlight, on the big screens, you're breathtaking. Your smile, your voice, your dance, your presence. There's a reason you fascinate so many people, capturing their hearts and imagination. It's plain and simple. You, my love, are remarkable. Beautiful in every aspect of your being. And trust me when I say that, even if you did make a mistake, no one cared. And I mean that in the best sense possible. Because the people witnessing you first hand, they're usually so blown away by you and the show you and the guys put on, they don't even have time to dwell on whatever little errors you may commit. Seriously. I've experienced it. I've been part of that crowd. Those people looking up at you, your fans, they only want what’s best for you. And they're so happy they get to see you, they're crying literal tears of joy, screaming their heads off whenever you enter the stage. For a reason. So don't you try to tell me that you're a lousy singer, Park Jimin. Because lying is not tolerated in this household. You hear me?"

"I love you."

"But did you hear me?"

"Aye, Ma'am," Jimin chuckled, beaming with affection as he sat up to bury his hands in your hair and press his lips to yours for a gentle, lingering kiss that ended with his forehead resting against yours.

"Thank you," he then whispered, short of breath.

"For what?"

"For being my home, my remedy."

Jimin's face was gleaming now, his frown gone, no trace left of his troubles as he caressed your cheek, the tip of his thumb following the curved line of your smiling lower lip.

"Always."

“Always? Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” you whispered, getting lost in the clear pools of Jimin’s bright eyes.

Smiling, Jimin held out his pinky and, when you took it, pulled you close to his chest, his little finger still interlinked with yours when he placed a tender kiss on your temple.

"I love you, princess. More than you know.”

“But I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

So ... I haven’t published any writing in a while. I hope you enjoyed this fluffy mess. And that it wasn’t too cheesy.

Love you and hope you’re all well. 💞

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sashank-kanchustambam · 5 years

Text

Lack OF Context

I never honestly prayed before, but I always had this small belief that someone existed up there, someone who controlled us or at least could control us; that thought lead me to have my first conversation with GOD. I mean I did all the talking, I wouldn't know if he responded.

Anirudh texted me after a week. I'm surprised how he texts me even after I repeatedly ignore him. I mean.....I love him, I want to talk to him, I want to meet him, and I probably can but I choose not to because 12th grade is really crucial to get into med school and I can't afforde to get used to him right now (also if my parents get to know about him I'm dead). I reply to him occasionally ,though, and that makes me happy.

Me: “Dad! Hurry up”

Dad: “ I'm almost done Tanvi...get the keys from mom”

Me: “Can you please teach the concept of punctuality to your husband mom.....he gets me late for my classes every day”

Dad: “Go by yourself no ”

Me: “I would dad if you allowed me to take ubers”

Dad: “well you have a bicycle”

Mom: “ argument over! (throws the keys to dad) now leave”

Once we sat in the car the argument started off from exactly where it ended

Dad: “ Tanvi! What about the bicycle?”

Me: “ Dad! How in the world do you lose your common sense sometimes? I'll sweat my lungs out if I bicycle 8 kilometres every day.

Dad: Well, you'll sweat my pockets out if you do an uber everyday

Me: I wonder how you'll pay for my med school though

Dad: I earn enough honey, and your mom does too.

Me: got you!!! My logic wins

Dad: shit!! No one's logic wins it's an argument with no winner.

Me: come on dad I'm the clear winner

Dad: I'll agree to disagree

Me: yeah sure!!

We were laughing around when all of a sudden I noticed a tiny kid randomly standing on the road and screamed; dad pressed the brake and turned the steering which made the car turn 360 degrees and crash into a light pole. The kid just ran away, but if I ever see that kid again I'm really going to run a car over him (I won't though). I was fine but my dad's head hit the steering wheel and was bleeding ( I should have reminded him to wear his seat belt.....well he should have reminded himself to wear his seat belt); he was half unconscious and was blabbering some shit. As I was unbuckling my seat belt, a guy on a motorcycle pulled up at my dad's side of the car and said “Is everything alright sir?” My dad continued to blabber unclearly. The guy interrupted me and said “ Glad to know sir... I am Seerat Kherwal, I am 31 years old, I work at Toogle as an assistant manager and my salary is ₹400,000 per month” At that point, I really didn't understand what the hell was happening and took time to process it. He continued “My family and friends consider me to be a very kind man I'm here to ask you if I could marry your daughter” I couldn't believe the randomness of the situation, but then processed it immediately and shouted at the guy “ Man what the fuck is wrong with you? Firstly the man's head is bleeding.what the hell are you doing instead of taking him to the freaking hospital? and secondly, I'm just 17” I wasn't even able to process what I was speaking. The guy spoke again “I'm sorry my love, can you help me get your father to the back seat?”

I got down and went to help him. “Don't call me ‛love’ please” he replied “Sure darling” I just decided to stay quiet this time. I helped him shift dad to the back seat. I took my handkerchief out and tied it to my dad's head. Seerat parked his motorcycle on the footpath, got into the driver's seat and I sat beside him. He started to drive the half broken car.

I've always kinda been into older men but that's more of a sexual thing and less of a romantic thing; even taking that into consideration this conversation was creepy....... from his side at least.

Seerat: ‛don't worry babe! Chandigarh is a small city the hospital won't be too far’

Me:‛ I'm really thankful for the help sir, but please call me Tanvi instead of babe or darling or love!! uh uh right right right right!!’

Seerat: ‛(immediately changed the direction of the steering and smiled with embarrassment) ’

Me:‛ you just spoke as if you know Chandigarh so well!! What happened huh?’

Dad: ‛ (in a very low voice) Tanvi tell mom that I loved her’

Me: ‛what the hell dad! You're not dying....we'll get you to the hospital asap....calm down’

Dad: (blabbered some shit)

Seerat: ‛do you think he'll say yes for the marriage Tanvi?’

Me: ‛ Shut the fuck up, please!! ’

After a few more extremely uncomfortable conversations (for me at least) with seerat and a little more random blabbering by my dad, we reached outside the emergency.

I told him to look after dad while I got some help. I brought a nurse with a wheelchair. Seerat gave me the car keys. “Thank you so much, sir.” He moved his cheek towards me and said “don't forget the bye-bye kiss Tanvi.” I think my brain wasn't working properly at that moment; instead of slapping his face I unwillingly kissed his cheek. Once I brought my face back to myself, the nurse was standing in place of Seerat and we were inside the hospital; the nurse was blushing as if Shawn Mendes just kissed her. I really didn't know if I forgot walking into the hospital or if we actually magically appeared there. I could have literally seen flying German Shepherd that day..... it wouldn't surprise me. My dad was completely unconscious and was being rushed in. Once we were inside, the doctor checked him and said “There's nothing to worry about... We'll have to give him a small dose of anesthesia and a few stitches.” They told me to wait in the corridor; I felt relieved. After I waited out for a few minutes, all the clocks in the emergency section started to make the weird hen noise, and the nurse came running to me. “ma'am we need you inside” I rushed inside. The doctor said “ Kid! Our department considers 11:43 AM as a very unlucky time and it's also a 13th today so we'll need your help....you have to make the first step of the stitching procedure we'll take over from there.” A panic attack hit me and I replied immediately while panting “ma'am my father is lying unconscious there you can't be joking around right now” “I'm not joking around kid” I looked at the nurse ( her name tag said eeshrat.....I didn't notice the doctor's name tag) and she nodded, conveying to me that it's true. I was pretty sure that that's not how hospitals work but, apparently, that's how my day was working... so I went with the flow. I took three deep breaths and told her to guide me. Eeahrat gave me a pair of gloves; the doctor handed me over the needle driver with a curved needle and suture material attached to it. She pointed to the starting of my dad's wound, put her fingers around his wound and said “right here kid” My mind, body, and soul were filled with frustration, so I pierced the needle right into the eye of the doctor, instead, and then got back to reality (which means I didn't pierce into her eye but imagined doing so because I really felt like doing so). I calmed my tits down and slowly took the needle closer to my dad's wound and carefully pierced it into his skin just like they showed in House M.D (it's a medical TV show.... I'm not even sure if they ever showed sutures in it, but yeah!). The doctor carefully took the driver from my hand; I slowly took a few steps back to the wall and fell to the ground with relief. ‘Could the day get any weirder’ I thought to myself. But I won't say it was all bad because doing the sutures gave me so much inner satisfaction ,and filled me with pride.....I gave sutures even before I got into med school, and I did it for my dad, but why did I do it??.... well!! I better not think about it.

“You did a very good job kid.... wait here you have some signing to do” The doctor went outside. Eeshrat, the nurse, was looking after dad, while I was still down to the floor. Once I was calmer and started to get up, the room all of a sudden sank deeper into the ground, and I fell back on the floor. I thought it was an earthquake and wasn't even surprised, but the sinking of the room was too even to be an earthquake. While Eeshrat was panicking, the door automatically closed and a small part of the ceiling opened up, and two suited up women jumped in from there. I just wanted to pick my unconscious dad up on my shoulders and run away from there. When Eeshrat tried to run away they shot her with a taser gun. My dad would have probably peed his pants if he was conscious at this point; I could have totally peed my pants too. “ There's no need to panic. We're from S.R.P.D. We're a government secret organization and we help them in emergencies and we were in urgent need for this aircraft because it's the only aircraft in the country that has an invisibility feature.” I literally said, “What the fuck” out loud. I was so glad in the morning that my periods were over and was hoping for a good day but this wasn't a very good day honestly. The other lady continued from there “ We're really sorry, but it's our policy to not allow anyone out immediately in these situations because of security issues, but we'll let you go soon.” Immediately after saying that she shot me with the taser too.

The second I woke up, I freaked out. The room in which I gave sutures to my dad was now an aircraft.....and we were in the fucking sky. The floor of the aircraft was transparent so I could see through it. It was scary and fascinating at the same time. Apparently, the aircraft was invisible from outside. I really didn't believe that. Eeshrat was sitting beside me and weeping, so I just brushed my palm on her head. My dad just woke up, noticed that we're flying, screamed and fainted again. “ I think it's time ma'am,” one of the suited ladies said to the other. “ People it's time... you need to get ready” They threw a bag at each of us. They tried to wake dad up but he wouldn't move.

Suited lady: “ We just gave you parachutes... We'll be releasing you right now”

Me: (That scared the living shit out of me, so I immediately interrupted) “ ma'am what what what.... you can't just leave us at some random place.... how do we get back home....and we might die we don't even know how to use these things”

Eeshrat: “you should have left us in the hospital itself what kind of stupid policy do you have.”

Suited lady: “we're sorry for the inconvenience...... You'll be instructed what to do and we've made sure that the landing area is safe..... We've transferred some money to your respective accounts and the nearest city is 5 kilometres from your landing place.....you can figure out your way from there”.

Me: “well ma'am I'm still scared. Can you not take us with you and drop us off later?”

Suited Lady : “you either jump here or we kill you later..the choice is yours”

Me: “can you instruct us with the parachutes please”

After they gave us the instructions, a small door opened up at the bottom of the aircraft... I have no idea where it appeared from though. Eeshrat jumped first. They decided to tie my dad up to me because he didn't seem to wake up. “ you're responsible for your dad ma'am” the lady said and pushed me out. I was screaming for obvious reasons. I just looked up to see the aircraft, but I couldn't see it. So the invisibility feature was real. I felt like I was in a Marvel movie. I was having the time of my life falling from so high though. My dad was still unconscious and that surprises me till date; how can someone be unconscious through all this shit? Well, Dad has always been a pussy. We were slowly getting closer to land. While we were falling, we suddenly became static in the air. I could only move my eyes, while rest of my body became static. I couldn't even pinch myself to check if it was a reality. This time there was no chance that I could process what was happening. Did you ever notice those glitches in old TVs? That kind of glitch literally occurred all around us (it felt as if we were trapped inside a TV). I wanted to scream but I couldn't. The glitch lasted few seconds, and after that, the ground below changed into sky.......an endless dark sky. I was suddenly able to move my head, so I saw up. Morning sky on the top, night sky at the bottom, and no land; It was beautiful to look at, but I couldn't appreciate it at that point of time. It suddenly felt like someone switched the gravity switch on and we started to fall again. We were falling towards the night sky. The closer we were getting to the night sky the faster my heart started to race. Once we almost fell into it, I just screamed and closed my eyes; I could hear the nurse scream too.

After closing my eyes for 5 seconds and probably after entering the night sky, a soft surface hit my butt hardly......I felt like I was sitting somewhere. While panting my lungs out, I opened my eyes to see myself sitting in my half broken car beside my mom. “why does he even buy such expensive cars when he can't even drive properly” She continued ranting while I was completely clueless. I just looked back to see that dad was still unconscious and the nurse was just staring outside the window....she looked traumatized. Mom stopped the car, smiled and said to the nurse “ your stop is here Eeshrat” The nurse, without even saying thank you, opened the door and started walking into the rain; she was just looking at one point and her eyes were watery. I immediately got out of the car and went to her. “do you remember any of that.... did it actually happen?” “I don't want to talk about it..... please leave” She pushed me away. I walked back to the car with disappointment. My mom said “ What an ungrateful lady.” I didn't have enough energy to respond to mom.

Once we were back home, I just ran into the house instead of helping mom with dad. While I was running into the room, I just stopped at the ‛Lord Vishnu’ picture that I talked to in the morning. I removed my glasses and threw them away in awe after seeing ‛Lord Vishnu’ wink at me. This wink reminded me of the conversation I had with him in the morning

‛ hey, bro! I really feel if not you, someone actually exists up there... Anyways

You know how crazily I want to be a doctor right...I just want to be able enough to treat my parents if they ever fall sick... It's the least I can do for them. When I earn enough money as a doctor I'll go for sky diving......I don't want to use my parents' money for something so high up on my bucket list Yeah.. also I have this thing for older men I don't know why... I want to kiss an older guy someday... like at least 10 years older... Not my dad though... Obviously duh..... Okay, this is something I really need an answer for..... Like the dimensions shit Nolan showed in interstellar or like the portals doctor strange opens....is that shit actually possible...I see so many people arguing about it...Is it actually possible... Anyways who cares okay bye’

I HOPE NOBODY DRUGGED ME THAT DAY

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fantasyandromancelover · 5 years

Text

Dark Shadows Chapter 2

1972

196 years later...

Seventeen year old Kagome watched silently as the rain fell upon the windows of the bus she was riding. She had recently taken a job to work as a governess up at a local mansion in the town that the bus was taking her to. By the time she had arrived in town the rain had stopped which she was grateful for since she didn't have an umbrella. She got off the bus, picked up her suitcase, and started walking toward her destination.

As she walked through the town some if the local men started staring at her, whistling, and making catcalls much to her annoyance. She didn't know why they were doing that, she thought it was because they were playing a cruel joke on her because Kagome had always thought of her as plain or homely looking but the truth was Kagome was actually a very beautiful girl. Raven hair, ivory skin, eyes that sparkled like the stars, and a smile that could soften even the hardest of hearts.

When she finally arrived at the mansion she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was answered by a handsome young man in his early twenties and when he saw Kagome he gave her a flirtatious smile.

"Well hello." He said. "What brings such a beautiful lady like yourself here?"

"I..." She said blushing. "I'm Kagome, I'm here for the governess job."

"Oh well then I'll be sure to inform Kaede at once for she will be your employer. I am Miroku the groundskeeper here, I do hope that you will be working with me."

"I hope so too- Eep!" Miroku had just groped her behind. "Hey back off pal! I'm not that kind of woman!"

"Miroku!" The young man stiffened when an old woman entered the room and hit him over the head with a cane. "Must you be so rude to our guests? Go back outside and weed the garden! Now!"

"Yes ma'am." He ran out of there as quick as possible.

"I apologise for Miroku's behavior. He is a lecher but he means well. I am Kaede and this is my home."

"Nice to meet you, my name is Kagome."

"I presume that you're here about the add for a governess."

"Yes."

"You seem a bit young to be a governess."

"I know but I've had plenty of experience and I have references. Here's a list of numbers you can call."

Kagome handed her a slip on paper. Kaede pulled out her glasses so she could see better and when she could see Kagome's face more clearly she made a look of pure shock and fascination.

"Good Lord." She said in amazement.

"What is it?" Kagome asked.

"Nothing it's just... Kagome where are you from? What is your family?"

"Oh well I lost my parents and my little brother in a car accident when I was ten. I had been living in foster care ever since."

"What was your family name?"

"Higurashi."

"Oh..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No but follow me."

Kagome followed Kaede into another room where a portrait of a young woman hung on the wall. She wore an 1700's style dress and was standing in a grove of bell flowers. To Kagome's shock the woman in the portrait looked identical to her. The resemblance between them was almost unreal.

"Who's that?" Kagome asked.

"That is Lady Kikyo. My ancestor." Kaede said. "Many years ago she died at age seventeen, no one knows the circumstances of her death but she was greatly loved and admired by my family."

"She's beautiful."

"I think it's astounding that you look exactly like her. At first I thought that somehow you could be related to me but there are no records of the name Higurashi in any of my family documents and files. Still your resemblance baffles me."

"I hope this doesn't influence your choice to hire me."

"No it was just something I noticed. Now I have a few more questions, what do you think of the president?"

"I've never met him."

"The war?"

"I don't watch TV."

"Do you believe sexes should be equal?"

"Heavens no! Men would be unmanageable."

"I think you and I will get along just fine. Come I'll give you a tour of the mansion."

Kaede gave Kagome a tour of the mansion, showing her each and every room in the house. The last place they went to was the living room which had a fireplace. Above the fireplace was another portrait, this one was of a young man wearing 1700's style suit with black hair and brown eyes, very handsome and kind looking. Kagome found herself being drawn to the portrait, gazing into the man's eyes. He seemed awfully familiar to her but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Who's this?" She asked.

"Inuyasha, he was the original owner of this house, he died at age twenty. In his will he left both this house and his trade business to my family."

"Why is that if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't know. Now then I shall introduce you to the other residents of this house. You've already met our lecherous groundskeeper Miroku, living here also is Kagura our live in therapist who I suspect is sleeping off one of her legendary hangovers."

"Anymore relatives or staff?"

"No just me and the children."

"I assume that you're widowed?"

"I never married and the children aren't mine. Sango and Shippo were orphaned at a young age, I took them in and brought them up as my own."

"Awww how sweet. How old are they?"

"Sango is now you're age but it's Shippo you'll be looking after. He's eight and is a sweet boy but he's quite the rambunctious type and I'm not as young as a used to be so I need some help."

"Of course but if you don't mind me asking why do you have a live in therapist?"

"Shippo claims that he sees the ghost of his deceased father but we're convinced it's just him still grieving and projecting his emotions. Or at least that's what Kagura says."

"Well if I may I believe that some people can communicate with the deceased."

"I understand your beliefs but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it to Shippo. We don't want to encourage his delusions."

"Alright."

"I think it's time you met them."

Kaede then called for them. Just as Kaede had said Sango was in fact Kagome's age and was a very pretty young lady. Shippo was a very cute looking right year old boy with orange hair.

"Sango, Shippo I would like you to meet Kagome. She will be the new governess here."

"How do you do? It's nice to meet you." Sango said.

"Very well thank you and it's nice to meet you too." Kagome said.

"Shippo say hello to Kagome." Kaede said.

"Hello." The boy said. "I knew you were coming."

"Well of course you knew you were getting a governess, Kaede put an add out." Sango said.

"No. I knew she was coming, Kagome. My father said that you were coming."

"Shippo your father's dead."

"I know but I still see him."

"Sure you do."

"Sango, Shippo please don't start." Kaede said. "Now then Miss Kagome I shall show you to your room."

Kagome followed the old woman upstairs to the guest room where she would be staying.

"I hope to see you at dinner this evening."

"You will." Kagome said.

"You seem like an excellent choice, I will be calling those references you listed, and again I ask you please do not encourage Shippo. You must understand that Kagura is here not just to help get Shippo through his grieving process but to make sure he's sane. If her review says that he's not mentally well he could shipped off to the asylum and I couldn't bear for that to happen to him."

"Oh don't worry I won't say another word about it. Believe me."

Kagome knew all too well about that. She wouldn't tell anyone about it, but when she was a little girl she used to talk to a ghost. It happened after her she lost her family but her foster parents thought that she was insane so they sent her to an asylum where she was subjected to torturous, electric, shock therapy. Luckily she managed to escape and she began assistanting other foster homes. Even though that it had been five years since she escaped, she still had nightmares about that horrible place.

"Boo!"

Kagome was snapped out of her thoughts and let out a startled cry when Shippo wearing a ghost costume jumped out from her closet.

"He, he, I got you." He laughed.

"Very funny." She giggled. "Shippo shouldn't you be getting ready for dinner?"

"I know but I had to scare you first. It's the initiation."

"Initiation?"

"When someone new comes to live our house their initiation is that I get to scare them."

"Well you scared me pretty good. Now go get ready for dinner."

At dinner Kagome was introduced to Kagura. An attractive woman though she seemed to be wearing too much make up in Kagome's opinion and she wreeked of booze.

"So you're the new nanny huh." Kagura said looking at her skeptically.

"Yes I am."

"You've been here before haven't you?"

"No I can't say I have."

"Where are you from?"

"I can't really remember exactly where I'm from. I've just moved from place to place all my life "

"Why is that? Do you have something to hide?"

Kagome just looked away from Kagura and took a sip of her drink.

"Kagura I don't think that you should pry into Kagome's personal life." Kaede said. "I checked her references and they all said that she was a very kind, responsible, and caring young woman. That's all we shall know of her for now."

"Geez why do therapists have to be such snoops?" Sango asked.

"I'm only doing my job." Kagura said smoking a cigarette.

"You're job is to examine Shippo not meddle in the affairs and past lives of others." Miroku said.

Kagura gave Miroku a death glare then didn't say another word for the rest of the night. That evening Kagome started to unpack her bags and get ready for bed. She had just put all her things away and changed into her nightgown when she saw a figure covered by a bedsheet standing in her doorway.

"Oh Shippo you scared me again." She said thinking that it was the boy. "What are you doing up it's almost eleven?"

The figure didn't respond. Confused, Kagome slowly walked toward the figure and removed the bedsheet covering it. But Shippo wasn't under the bedsheet. Instead it was a woman, a woman who was floating and extremely pale. A ghost and not just any ghost, she was the ghost that Kagome had been seeing ever since she was ten years old but it wasn't until now that she realized something. This ghostly woman looked exactly like herself and the lady in the portrait Kagome had seen earlier. Lady Kikyo.

"He's coming." She said in a whisper like voice. "He's coming."

"Who's coming?" Kagome asked her.

But she did not answer she only disappeared into a wall leaving Kagome confused and a little frightened.

#inuyasha #inukag #fanfiction #fanfic #kagome #dark shadows au #dark shadows #vampire

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yanceyrenee-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 8 The Windtalkers

Grace walks out of the preschool that afternoon to the fresh air and blue sky left after the storm passed through. She can't help smiling despite her fear. It is such a beautiful day and the man she loves waits for her.

" Love" the word terrifies her. The only love she really trusts is the love she feels for her mom and brother and the agape love of God's. But she can't stop or change what she feels for Daniel. She takes comfort in the knowledge that this love, the intensity of it, had to come from God.

" Grace," his face lights up when he sees her. She can't help smiling back. She walks over and he takes her bag and then her hands.

" Are you ready for this?" he asks her.

" I don't know." Is she ready to meet his family? Will she like them? Would they like her?

" They will adore you." he reassures her reading the questions on her face.

" Okay. Do I look okay?" She had dressed very carefully this morning. She wears dress pants and a sweater instead of jeans and a sweatshirt. She has her hair in a ponytail for work but plans on pulling it down and brushing it out when they get to his parents house.

" Beyond okay. You are beautiful Grace."

" Thanks."

He slips the helmet on her head and the jacket on her. She climbs up on the motorcycle. He squeezes her hands reassuringly, kickstarts the bike and they are off.

It isn't long before they pull up in front of a brick house. Mums line the flower bed in front. The lawn is well maintained and the driveway looks freshly sweeped. There are no sign of the leaves that fill the lawns and driveways they had drove past. When they park, Daniel helps her off and stores their helmets and jackets as Grace brushs their hair out.

" Okay. I am ready," she strives to inject some confidence in her voice.

" Yes you are. It will be fine."

She reachs for his hand and they walk towards the front door. It opens before they reach it. A gorgeous young girl stands before them. Her hair is silky black and hangs in twin braids on either side of her face. Her eyes are bright green like her brothers.

" Hi Rachael," Daniel greets her," this is Grace. Grace my sister Rachael."

" Hi Grace. So excited to see you." she says putting her hand out.

" Very nice to meet you Rachael," Grace shakes her offered hand. She keeps a hold of it pulling Grace into the house.

" She's pretty." she attempts to whisper to her brother.

" I know," he says following them with a smile.

" Hey guys, they are here." Rachael loudly announces as they enter the living room.

The room is large and panelled in tan colored wood. It contains two full couches and several chairs. Indian weavings cover the floor. An American flag hangs prominently on one wall. A Navy flag on another. Family pictures cover the other two. The couchs are full of people. The oldest gentleman, Daniel's papa stands when they enter. His mom sits holding a baby with a toddler seating against her. The other little boy sits on the other couch where his papa had been seating.

" Papa, meet my girlfriend Grace. Grace, my papa Paul."

" Grace we are so pleased to meet you." Paul takes her hand.

" Thank you. I am very pleased to meet you too." Grace shakes his long russet hand. Paul Windtalker is all native American. He has the russet skin, broad features, dark eyes, and long silky hair that she expects.

His mom rises from the couch, handing baby Levi to her husband as she comes up to greet her.

" Mom meet my Grace. Grace my mom Tammy."

Tammy Windtalker is the opposite of her husband. She is as pale as he is dark. Her hair is blond and, of course, her eyes are green. She is short. Grace shakes her hand.

" Ah Grace, so pleased that Daniel is finally bringing someone to meet us."

" Well, uh, I am happy to be here."

" This is our youngest Levi and this is Rose," she touches the top of her children's heads as she introduces them." And this is Abe."

He had came running over and stops before Grace. Her grins up at her and she grins back.

" Nice to meet cha'" he says shaking her hand.

" Nice to meet you Abe."

" You have beautiful children," she tells Paul and Tammy.

" Thank you Grace," Paul replies.

They find seats. Rachael sits beside Grace and talks excitedly.

" Were you born with those curls? Man, I wish I had curlse like that. My friend Missy has curls. She is so pretty. You are pretty too Grace."

" Rachael, let poor Grace get a word in." her mom says.

" Yes Rachael. I was born with the curls. I love your hair. When I was your age I wanted hair like yours. I learned to appreciate the curles as I got older. You will feel the same about your hair too. I am sure your friend Missy is beautiful. But so are you." Rachael sits beaming beside her.

" Do you have a bunch of btothers and sisters too?" Abe asks her.

" No. Just one brother, Luke. He is your age."

" Wow, I bet it is quiet at your house."

" Yes, pretty much."

" Daniel tells us you are going to college and leaning towards nursing or social work." Tammy comments.

" Yes ma'am."

" That is wonderful. I was in nursing classes myself before the children started coming."

" Well, you can always go back."

" Yes. We have actually discussed it. After Levi is school age."

" You should. All this caregiving experience will make you an excellent nurse."

" Why thank you Grace."

Over the course of the evening, Grace hears stories about Paul's time in the Navy.. He had served in Desert Storm.

" Though I have never got as far as Daniel here." His pride for his son bleeds through every word.

She gets to hold baby Levi. He is a carbon copy of his dad. He lays heavy and sleepy against his chest. She holds Rose on her lap for awhile. Rose looks more like her sister Rachael and her brother Daniel.. She is a sweet shy girl.

She and Daniel eat supper with the family. It's a fun, chaotic meal. They talk over each other as they laugh and joke. Grace wbo has never sat at such a large table, is fascinated. Daniel, seeing her expression says,

" And remember we are not all here. David, June, and Becky are absent." Daniel's brother David is on a carrier somewhere in the Indian Ocean. June and Becky serve as a police officer and a fireman in Savannah.

" That's true."

" They will all be here for Christmas next month. You can meet them then." Paul says.

" Well maybe not David." Daniel reminds him.

" They like you." Daniel tells her before putting her helmet on.

" I like them too."

" Good."

He bends down to kiss her forehead but she lifts her head so he meets her lips instead. It is unexpected so Daniel isn't prepared. Despite this, it is a sweet kiss, tender and gentle. It is witness, sight unseen by Grace and Daniel, by Rachael who stands at the door with a huge smile on her face.

" Stop spying on your brother," Tammy says pulling her back in the house and firmly shutting the door.

" Wow. My first kiss," Grace whispers when Daniel reluctantly steps back.

" Wow! Really." This startles Daniel.

" Yes. My first romantic one anyway."

" If I would have known that, I would have done a better job."

" I am not sure you could have."

" Well thank you."

" Thank you too. For a great evening and an awesome first kiss."

" You are quite welcome Grace. Now let's get you home."

" Okay. I love you Daniel."

" I love you too Grace."

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lupienne · 7 years

Text

‘I Can Try’

A/N: Ok this was a short scene inspired by TWD 167.

Apologies if Andrea is OOC. I've never attempted to write her before. Also, this is cheesy as fuck and stupid, but nobody said inspiration always led to good things.

Writing under the cut.

‘I Can Try.’

The influx of people had paused, as if everyone was taking a breather in between each of her last breaths.

Andrea took a deep, sweet gulp of air and wiped her sweating forehead. Good. She needed this minute to empty the pressure behind her eyes that she'd held back, then to wipe it away and brace herself for the next round.

Outside, she thought she heard a voice raised angrily. A door slamming. Through the worsening effects of the fever, there were moments where she forgot how bad off Alexandria was right now.

In the hallway, she heard footsteps. Another visitor. She remained as she was, propped up by several soft pillows. Aside from the bouts of dizziness, the sweating, and the heat radiating from her skin...she didn't feel too horrible – yet. She could still do this for a while.

The door opened and she scowled.

“Uh.” Her visitor stood there awkwardly for a second, then smiled that shit-eating grin he was famous for.

“They weren't going to let me see you.”

She just eyed him, wondering what idiocy was going to come out of that big mouth. Negan sank his hands into his leather coat pockets.

“You were a badass, and you were hot as fuck. I'd have been honored for you to be the one to kill me.”

Her eyes rolled, and she snorted. A sudden cough jolted her ribs. And finally, she gave a short laugh.

Negan's lips quirked up, just slightly, at one corner.

“You're speaking in the past tense already,” she noted. “Almost everyone is...”

“Yeah. That's awkward.”

“Thanks, I guess. For the compliment.” Even if it was coming from a man who masturbated with a baseball bat. It wasn't saying much.

“Yeah.” He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I know you've got a lot more people to see. I've taken up enough of your time. Bye, Andrea.”

He left the rest unspoken. And you don't have much time left.

He turned to leave and she watched his broad back start heading through the doorway. She'd wanted him dead, and maybe that want hadn't faded – but maybe.... there was a reason he was still alive. Despite everything. Maybe she could make a reason.

“Negan, wait a second.”

He paused, but didn't turn.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“That's kind of obvious.”

She ignored that, and just came out with it. “Look, I want you to do something for me.”

He turned, genuine curiosity in his eyes. She expected snark or taunts, but Negan stayed quiet.

She ground her teeth. “You know if you hurt any of them.. Rick...Carl...I'll crawl out of my grave twice to get to you.”

He gave a plaintive, puppy-dog look. “I'm not planning to hurt them...”

“Good. That's what I thought.” She sighed. “Rick likes you, for whatever reason-”

His eyes brightened. “Rick said he likes me?”

She frowned. “No. And maybe I don't mean it like that. But...there's something about you that fascinates him. Maybe he sees himself in you, in those times he had his feet set on going down a really dark path – and you're what would have happened if he had.”

She knew Rick might believe that...but she never did, or would. For him to even compare himself to someone like Negan...? But this wasn't about what she thought, because her bearing on the world was fading fast.

Negan was looking at her – but not really – she knew there was a crack in the wall's plaster behind her. His bold eyes were fixated there.

“He might not say it, but he believes that you've changed. I don't...but I've been proven wrong by Rick a few times before.”

Negan slipped his hands into his pockets again. “...I can't say I'm a fucking saint...I can't even say I'm not the exact same asshole you knew before, but...I don't want to be that anymore.”

“I'm the one on my deathbed,” she smirked. “Don't be confessing your sins to me. What I'm saying is...if Rick believes you can change and be of value...then I'm going to trust his trust in you. I'm going to ask you a favor.”

“Sure. Fucking lay it on me.”

“Take care of him for me. Don't break any more parts of him that still hope. Keep him safe. Don't let him fall to his knees and stay there, because... I'm not going to tell him this... but I'm afraid for him. I can only motivate him so much...before...” She took a breath. “...before I can't anymore.”

He didn't answer, a crease appearing between his dark eyebrows.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he uttered, finally. “I can... try.”

“That's all anyone can do.” The sweat was trickling down her forehead and she blotted it with her sheet. Her eyes needed emptying again, and she was damned if she'd do it in front of him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well. If that's it... I think I ought to go. They'll think I did something fucking untoward with how long I've been in here.”

“Yes, it'd be so awful if you were to kill me now.” She smirked, and he matched it. “Get your ass out of here, and don't make me regret not having Rick kill you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Negan gave a slight bow with one big hand clasped to his chest, and then left just as quietly as he'd come in.

Perhaps Rick had been right about this – about mercy – just as he'd been right about building up instead of tearing down. She only hoped this promise would be kept – so the beacon of the new world could stay strong, stay shining.

She slipped lower in the bed, just for a moment's rest. Bracing herself for a fresh influx of faces. Theirs filled with a fresher, rawer kind of sadness than the kind that lurked behind the ever-present lines of Negan's smirk.

It was hard, and she cried at the thought of it – but them...all of them... were the reason she had stayed alive, and the reason she would die, and she'd be damned if she let them see anything but her love...

...and her joy that her last memories would be to see them all still breathing, crying, feeling, hoping, living.

#twd spoilers #andrea #negan #comicnegan>#167 #spoilers #Andrea and Negan convo #Rick #corny #lups writing

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shadesumbra · 7 years

Text

Chapter 12

Shade let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He didn’t understand why he was so against letting people know he was on an outing. Luckily though, Ambré had not come back through the encounter.

Where was she anyway? She had said it was custom to thank actors, and he had told her that she could try, but it would be difficult. He figured she would be back sooner.

Shade walked out the direction Ambré had went and it didn’t take long to find her.

She had gotten side tracked by a dog. The person who owned the dog didn’t seem too bothered by Ambré’s show of love to their furry friend.

Ambré looked up and the two locked eyes. She sprang to her feet, shouting a thank you behind her and ran over to him.

“I never got to touch a dog in the time I was here! I didn’t know they were so soft!”

“Loyal companions indeed. Though far too messy for my liking. Are you ready to go?”

“Oh blozkic, I never got to thank the actors.”

“I highly doubt you’re going to be able to. The likelihood of them coming out is low and the chance you’d even get to thank them is even lower.” Shade didn’t bat an eye at Ambré’s strange sayings anymore, he's long gotten used to them.

Ambré looked dejected for a moment before she brought her spirits back up. “So, what do we do next? Unless it’s common to just go home after a theatre show?”

“Not in the slightest, I was thinking we go out for lunch?”

“I can do lunch.”

“Perfect, because I know this lovely restaurant. Lets be on our way.”

Shade led Ambré through a smoky shadow door to the front of a fancy building. Ambré looked over to Shade and he gave her a soft smile. He held the door open for her. She entered, looking unsure. He knew a place like this was out of her comfort zone, but no better time to adjust than the present.

He entered in behind her and the man at the front gave the two of them a smile. He waved for them to follow as they passed a line of people, who all looked very annoyed at the two of them. Ambré looked over at Shade with a questioning look.

“Higher class places like this usually require those eating here to make reservations before hand.”

“Reservations?”

“To hold a spot for you and who you’re eating with.”

“Then why don’t we need reservations?”

“I eat here so often that I have my own reserved booth for whenever I come in.”

The man led the two of them to a table in a corner. The seats pointed so that they were across from each other, but faced the window slightly.

The view was one Shade enjoyed. It looked out onto the local park, which had many trees and flowers. But it also put him in a position where he could people watch. That was always a fun activity, watching people scurry about. Some people had interesting outfits on, others did interesting things, especially when they thought no one was watching. Most times he’s just curious, though there are times he does laugh at the antics that they pull.

The two sat down and the waitress brought over their menus. Ambré’s eyes scanned the menu before looking over at Shade.

“What?”

“I have absolutely no idea what most of this is.”

Oh. Oh he didn’t think about that.

“What is a sou’?”

“Soup?”

“Yeah that.”

“It’s a warm liquid that is usually served with vegetables or small pieces of meat.”

Ambré’s eyes scanned the menu again.

“And ‘ork?”

“Pork is pig meat.”

“Steak?”

“Cow meat.”

“...”

“Ambré?”

“What are those?”

“What are what?”

“A ‘ig and a cow?”

“Farm animals. I’ll take you to see them on another day.”

“They’re just bred for meat?”

“No, cows are a source of milk. They don’t have to be killed to obtain the milk either.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Ambré looked back down at the menu before hiding her face behind it, an embarrassed flush coming over her face.

Strange, he didn’t think she could blush considering her lack of blood. He made a mental note to ask about that later. But right now…

“Is something wrong?”

Ambré mumbled a response he couldn’t quite hear.

“Ambré you’re going to need to be louder.”

She mumbled again.

“Ambré.”

“I want the ‘ork but I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“How is ordering the… oh. Ah.”

Ambré covered her face further.

Shade cleared his throat awkwardly. “I could order it for you?”

Ambré peered out from over the menu and Shade couldn’t help but think that was ever so slightly adorable.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Just water ‘lease.”

Shade gave a her a small nod and just at that moment, the waitress came up.

“Hello, my name is Jane and I’ll be your waitress for today. Is there anything I can get you to drink?”

“Dark tea for me, and water for her.”

The waitress looked toward Ambré and Ambré gave the waitress a small yes-nod, which in turn caused the waitress a small smile.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as the waitress came back with their drinks. Shade continued to flip through the menu slowly as Ambré fidgeted with her hair. Shade could easily tell she felt out of place and uncomfortable.

“So. You were blushing earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“But you don’t have blood? Or do you?”

Ambré seemed to perk up at the topic of conversation.

“No, I don’t have blood. But the layer of… Well I guess you’d call it skin. It’s like an outermost layer, there's a layer underneath, but the skin acts as a ‘rotective cover. Without it I could still blush, but it’s look more green, but the skin causes all the colors to be the o’osite of what they should be.”

“So a bruise would be orange and white?”

“Yea!”

“How strange, and how do you know this?”

“When we’re first… Well, it’s not really born, we s’rout from seeds. But between birth and I guess what would be considered ‘uberty here, we don’t have our second layer, and we develo’ our second skin then.”

Shade, as much as he hated to admit it, was fascinated. Ambré was far further from human than he had expected. It appeared that the only similarity she had with humans was her physical appearance.

Something he could relate too.

“So, if you don’t have blood, what do you have?”

“It’s kind of like chloro’hyll. I’m not sure if the chemical makeu’ is the same at all though.”

At that moment the waitress returned. “Are you ready to order your food?”

Ambré slumped behind her menu.

“I’ll have the steak and she’ll have the pork.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes ma'am.”

The waitress wrote down their orders, took their menus and left the two.

“I bet the doctors who took sam’les at the hos’ital know if the chemical makeu’ is the same,” Ambré mumbled, still obviously upset at the whole situation that had happened.

“We could always have your blood looked into.”

“I su’ose you’re right.”

At that moment Ambré let out a sneeze. It could only be described as a kitten sneeze. And Shade felt the smallest pang of something in his chest. Something he really couldn’t describe.

That was worrying.

Ambré went to speak again and let out a small barrage of sneezes, and Shade couldn’t help but laugh. When she was done Ambré covered her face with her hands and let out a small annoyed whine.

“You alright there Ambré?”

Ambré let out another small whine.

The waitress returned with their food, placing the respective plates in front of the two.

Ambré uncovered her face and looked down at the plate that had been put in front of her, but her eyes quickly wandered over the the multiple forks that lay by it.

“Uh?”

“Different forks for different types of food. Go with the biggest one, it’s a dinner fork.”

“Look at you, being all fancy with your multi’le forks and s’oons. Do you do this on the normal?”

On the normal. Now that was something he hadn’t heard before. Must be Ambré’s home dialect.

“Oh, so you assume I have the full set?”

“I do actually, yes.”

Shade let out a laugh as he cut into his steak. “I have part of the set, mainly the ones I use the most.”

“So the whole set?”

Shade almost choked on his steak. Ambré was getting good at quips. Good lord he wasn’t expecting that. He swallowed and let out a laugh.

“No no, out of the set of nine I have six.”

“That’s basically a whole set.”

“Since when is six out of nine a whole set?”

“When it’s three away?”

“Still not a set.”

“But it’s closer to a set than halfway.”

“Nine is an odd number.”

“You can have half a fork, just don’t ex’ect to use it much.”

Shade snickered and froze with his knife halfway through a cut.

“Shade?”

“Terribly sorry, I just remembered something. Nothing important that requires my attention right now.”

He saw the ever so subtle expression change on Ambré’s face that was almost completely covered by her fringe.

“So, do you plan on continuing to play the hero?”

Ambré cut a piece out of her pork and chewed on it, as if she was stalling.

“I don’t… really know. I guess that de’ends on what ha’ens?”

“In my opinion, Opal is in good hands now. With Knight and the O’Dares around. And myself as well.”

He saw Ambré lift her head ever so slightly, as if peering up at him.

“I su’ose you’re right,” she poked at her pork, uncertainty in her voice.

“And what about your powers?”

“What about them?”

“Well, if you do plan on continuing to play the hero, I would like to know how they work.”

“They’re shadow illusions, there’s not much more to them than that.”

“I find that hard to believe. If they were shadows I would be able to see right through them.”

Ambré shoved another piece of pork into her mouth.

“They’re… not exactly shadows. It’s more like, bent light.”

“Go on.”

“Well, white consists of no colors, while black consists of all colors. So by bending light, I can mani’ulate what colors people see. Kind of like a diamond.”

She poked at her pork again, and he could feel her eyes on him. He couldn’t see it, but behind the fringe, Ambré had her eyes narrowed at him.

“That was a very sudden change of to’ic we had.”

“That’s how conversations work sometimes.”

It was faint, and he almost missed it. But he could of sworn he heard a soft “Not with you they don’t.” He chose not to reply, deciding to let the comment slide.

The two sat in silence for the rest of the lunch. Shade could feel Ambré’s eyes on him every so often. It was near the end of the meal when Shade broke the silence.

“How about after lunch we go for a walk in the park?”

Ambré poked her fork at the small pieces that were left on her plate. “I don’t know, I… will there be ducks?”

“There’s a pond, so most likely,” he could see Ambré completely perk up at the possibility of ducks.

“Let me pay and we can be on our way.”

Before long, Shade had paid and the two were walking along side a small pond, Ambré admired the nearby ducks.

“You could feed them.”

“We’re allowed to do that?” The excitement obvious in her voice, her whole body twisting faster than he ever thought possible to look at him.

“There’s a machine right over there,” using his cane to point to a nearby dispenser.

“THERE ARE BREAD DISPENSERS FOR DUCKS?”

“Not bread, food.”

“SAME DIFFERENCE!” And in a blink of an eye, Ambré had darted over to the dispenser and was puttings quarters in it.

Shade watched as Ambré cooed at the ducks as she fed them. His attention turned to the water, watching as the gentle ripples crashed into a rock in the center of the pond.

When he turned his attention back to Ambré, she was gone. His eyes scanned the surrounding area and he spotted her in a nearby vendor tent. Making his way over, he passed a few tents on the way, all trying to get his attention.

He stepped into the tent. Oh joy, it was a hat tent. He turned to Ambré who was currently standing in front of a mirror adjusting a beret, and wearing it completely wrong. He silently walked over and fixed it so that she was wearing it correctly.

“It matches my jacket!”

“So it does, un chef-d'œuvre.”

Ambré paused, and started what Shade thought was counting, on her fingers. She did this for a moment before covering her face in a fit of giggles.

“Merci! Vous êtes aussi un œuvre d'art! Bien que vous soyez 'lus un chef-d'œuvre que moi!”

Shade paused, stunned by Ambré’s response.

“I enrolled for a French class when I realized how much you used it.”

Shade stood there in a stunned silence before bursting into laughter.

“I was not expecting that! You continue to surprise me everyday.”

Ambré gave him a bright smile. Combined with her new beret that matched her jacket, she looked awfully cute.

…

Aesthetic appeal does not equal attraction.

“I’m going to go show the ducks!” And with that, Ambré ran out of the tent.

She was such a child sometimes. A twisted grin made its way onto Shade’s face. He could work with that.

#The Shade #Richard Swift #Ambré #ShadowHearts #Fanfiction #Old Writing

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mass-effect-tales · 4 years

Text

Shot in The Dark ch. 6

It was decided Nero would take Nihlus's ship and he and Skye would travel to Kahje while Nihlus would stay with Garrus because "Garrus has a good plan here and could use an extra hand cleaning house". Skye was pretty excited to see the hanar homeworld since she always found the hanar fascinating. She had even become friends with a hanar preacher that liked to give sermons outside huerta.

"I've always wanted to see Kahje, I heard it's mostly water which sounds so fascinating." Skye said, looking out the ship's window and watching the stars pass by. Nero hummed, looking from the star chart over to Skye.

"I haven't been there since I ended my Compact but I guess it's beautiful in it's own way."

Skye looked over at him, tilting her head in confusion. "Compact? What's that?"

"Some drell are given the opportunity to serve a hanar family. We call it the Compact. It's seen as an honor to serve a hanar family."

"That sounds like slavery." Skye frowned, making Nero chuckle.

"To many it seems like that but it's thanks to the hanar we still live. Our homeworld Rakhara was dying due to overpopulation and lack of resources. The hanar brought many drell to Kahje where we live to this day. The Compact is our way of thanking the drell for saving us."

Skye nodded in understanding, getting up from her seat and walking over to look at the star chart.

"So is your mother in a Compact as well?"

"Yes though the family she assists has let her take it easy since she developed kepral's."

"You seem to care about her very much." Skye smiled lightly. Nero looked away and sighed.

"I haven't seen her other than through a screen since I was a child. She doesn't know that I've been using my spectre status to watch her."

Skye was surprised at his admittance. From the way he talked it sounded like he visited her often. Was he ashamed of being a spectre? Is that why he hasn't visited her?

"Why haven't you gone to see her? I'm sure she misses you."

"She hasn't seen me since I was a child."

Before she could ask what he meant, she noticed him tense and realized he was being pulled into a memory.

"Tiny hands clutch her dress, not wanting to go. A tentacle gently pulls me away from the safety of her arms. "This one believes he would be an excellent addition. You understand do you not?" She smiles sadly at me. "Go with them Nero, you'll do great things. I love you."

Nero grips the edge of the table until his fingers go numb. "I was taken to be trained as an assassin when I was a child. The hanar told her I would assist them but didn't tell her I would be an assassin."

"So you're ashamed of what you did?"

"No, what I did for the hanar does not bother me. I did not want my mother to see I'm not Whole."

"Not Whole?"

Nero reached out, taking her hand into his. "Imagine our hands are the body and soul of a drell."

He intertwined their fingers.

"When the body and soul are healthy and in harmony, that's called being Whole. When the body is sick or the soul is damaged,"

He released her hand, making her hand feel cold at the loss of his touch.

"The person is no longer Whole. For the longest time I thought my mother wouldn't want to see me like this so I avoided returning to her."

"So you're a coward."

Nero was surprised at the glare she gave him and reflexively stepped back when she moved forward to poke him in his chest.

"That has to be the worst excuse to see someone's own family I've ever heard. Now I'm not going to be insensitive about your culture but you don't even know if she'd even care if you were Whole or not. You're telling me you have no qualm about throwing yourself at some Reaper controlled corpse of Saren but you're too scared to face your own mother?"

Her statement made him pause. At the time he thought it made sense to avoid his mother but hearing her explanation made his decision sound ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that for the first time since he was a child he started laughing. Skye's anger turned to confusion at his sudden laughter though she didn't mind it. His laugh was deep and rich and the smile he gave her made heat rise to her cheeks.

"When you put it that way, I guess I do sound like I'm making excuses."

"I'd also say melodramatic but that's a start."

Nero raised a brow at her comment.

"How so?"

Skye gave him a deadpanned look.

"You're serious aren't you. You honestly don't realize you act like some mysterious character in a movie?"

"I repeat, how so?"

Skye groaned. "You rarely talk about your past, you wear dark clothes, you use daggers while everyone around you uses guns. Do you see it now?"

Nero chuckled. "No one asks about my past, this is standard spectre armor and my specialty is close combat but I do have pistols if you'll remember I gave you one during the Citadel attack."

This time Skye's glare was more playful as she giggled. "Fine you got me there. Would you mind if I asked you more about your past then?"

Nero shrugged, gesturing for her to follow as he wend down to the dining area to grab himself a drink.

"There is not much to discuss. I started training when I was six and became a full assassin when I turned seventeen. I served a hanar named Zylander. I was in his service until I was twenty eight. I was recruited by a turian spectre named Killington who trained me and put my name in for the spectres and I've been working for the spectres since."

Skye sat down across from him. "So when did you start feeling like you weren't Whole?"

Nero shrugged. "I started not too long after I left Zylander's service. I thought it was because I wasn't employed anymore but even after I became a spectre I could still feel like something was missing."

"Maybe you're lonely, judging by your past you've lived a lonely life."

"Spectres already have a rocky reputation. Who'd want to be with an ex-assasin turned spectre?" Nero chuckled, thinking she was joking. She surprised him by standing up, walking over to him and placing a hand on his cheek. Nero inhaled sharply at her sudden touch. Her skin was warm and smooth as her fingers traced his scales.

"You really like jumping to conclusions huh?" She said, smiling lightly before removing her had from his cheek and walking to her room on the ship.

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

Nero, at Skye's urging, had called his mother informing her he was coming to Kahje and explaining where he has been. To his surprise, his mother had figured out he was a spectre when she saw him in one of the vids in Shepard's interviews. She said she knew right away it was him.

"A mother never forgets her child's face," she had said.

When their ship landed at Cnidaria City Nero lead Skye into the domed city where the drell live. It was uncommon for anyone besides drell or hanar to visit the city so many drell eyed Skye as she followed Nero through the winding streets.

"We're here," Nero stopped in front of a small house. Surrounding the house were little tables covered in potted plants. The flowers were a bright scarlet and Skye couldn't help but lean down and sniff the sweet smelling flower as Nero knocked on the door.

"Ah, I see you're interested in the usharet."

Skye quickly stood up straight and couldn't help but stammer when she saw Nero's mother.

She didn't know what the standard of beauty was for drells but Skye thought the woman was gorgeous. Her scales shone in the artificial sunlight in shades of blue and green like a peacock feather. Her eyes shone with a motherly warmth and her smile could probably calm even a raging krogan.

"H-hello ma'am, I'm Skye Walker." Skye said quickly making the woman giggle.

"Kjaere Verge, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in I have a pot of tea ready if you'd like a cup." She lead them inside where Skye could see while the house was small it was very homey. The house was one floor with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and living room which was mildly decorated with photos and trinkits. Kjaere urged them to sit down while she went to grab the tea. She came back with three cups and passed Nero and Skye their cups before she sat down across from them.

"So, what brings my son and his friend to my home on such short notice?" Kjaere asked. Skye took a sip of her tea. It didn't taste like any kind of tea she had before. It had a sweet taste but a slight spice that left her mouth warm and tingly.

"Skye has this disease that shows signs similar to kepral's. A salarian doctor wants to test her against someone with kepral's and says he might be able to create a cure." Nero explained while Kjaere sipped her tea. She set her cup on the table and sat back, crossing her legs and closing her eyes.

"While it is tempting to go with you to meet this doctor, I cannot just leave on such short notice. I don't know if you know but I'm one of the few people left that knows the way to raise usharet."

"Excuse me ma'am but what is so special about these flowers?"

Kjaere smiled softly, standing up to walk over to a vase of usharets she has sitting out and gently pulling out one of the blossoms.

"It is said Sinna, the goddess of love fell for a warrior named Fero who pledged himself to her. To prove his devotion he searched across the land looking for a flower that could match her beauty. He found that flower at the very top of a mountain. Fero climbed the mountain to retrieve the flower. Unfortunately just as he plucked the flower he lost his footing and fell from the mountain. When Sinna found his body he was clutching the flower which had been dyed red by his blood against his heart. In his memory, Sinna scattered the petals of that flower into the wind which grew into the usharet. Since then these flowers have been given as a present between lovers to show their devotion to their loved one."

Kjaere walked over to Skye and slipped the usharet into her braid. The petals tickled against her neck and Nero admired how the placement of the usharet drew the eye to her face. There was a knock on the door right before the door opened to a group of drell children running in.

"Sele Verge! We're here to deliver usharet!" A young girl cried happily. Kjaere smiled at the children and took Skye's arm, pulling her up to Skye's confusion.

"I actually have my son visiting today but why don't you have Sele Walker here help you and show her around."

"What?" Skye looked between Kjaere and the children in confusion.

"It's alright, the children know where to deliver the usharet."

"Please come with us Sele Walker!" The children begged and Skye's heart melted at their pleading looks. She looked over at Nero who looked amused by the scene in front of him.

"Alright, I can't say no to a bunch of kids can I?" She chuckled and allowed the kids to drag her out of the house. When the door closed Kjaere sat down next to Nero and placed a hand on top of his.

"I cannot leave right away but if you can give me a week to finish teaching my apprentice Kahila how to raise the usharet then I'll gladly join you."

Nero nodded, "we can come back in a week when you're ready then."

Kjaere chuckled, "why don't you stay? Sinnahan will be starting soon, why don't you show your lamni how we celebrate."

Nero cleared his throat and looked away bashfully. "Skye isn't my lamni, we are just colleagues." He could feel his neck frills flush with embarrassment when his mother laughed.

"You could have fooled me with the way you looked at her wearing a usharet." Kjaere's smile softened and she pat his hand. "But I insist, stay here and celebrate. Skye looks like she would enjoy the festival."

The idea was tempting, he hasn't attended a festival since he was a child and while Skye mentioned she was curious about Kahje he could see her being curious about drell festivities.

"Alright, if Skye doesn't mind staying then we'll stay."

Kjaere nodded and reached for her tea. "Well then, we have a lot of catching up to do while we wait for her to return."

#fanfic #mass effect #mass effect oc #shot in the dark #human/drell

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