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hareharrison · 3 years

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hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest.

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?”

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

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15-dogs · 3 years

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hey lover |s.r.|

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer wants to ask you on a date but his fear of rejection causes him to write you a letter. however, he’s made the miniscule and idiotic mistake of forgetting to sign it. (fluff, mutual pining, and miscommunication!!)

warnings: very light swearing, description of murders/crime scenes (criminal minds level gore/description), food mention

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = letter

word count: 3.2K

a/n: asjkdfhkj this is my first spencer fic i hope it turned out ok!!

***

It seemed like a good idea at first. Derek’s ideas always seem good at first. Spencer wasn’t sure why he trusted things would work out without error. Yet there he was, letter in hand and eyes wide at the stupid, miniscule mistake he made while you awaited his answer.

***

You had just begun working at the BAU no more than 3 months ago as the new communications liaison, replacing JJ while she was absent on maternity leave. You were quickly integrated into the carefully woven quilt that was the BAU and, in turn, you had built some very close relationships with your coworkers.

However, there was one person who you had grown extraordinarily fond of: Spencer Reid. You didn’t want to admit how smitten you were with the doctor, seeing as you were only working at the BAU for so long, but it was an indisputable fact you had fallen for him.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer felt the exact same way. Your courageous and selfless demeanor struck him as something he hadn’t seen in anyone in quite some time. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful you were. Spencer knew it was impossible for anyone to be perfect but, when you made him feel the way he did, he began to question his thinking.

Spencer was quite terrible at hiding his feelings, finding himself staring at you a second too long when you walked to your office in the morning or bringing you extra breakfast and coffee because the store just happened to have an extra muffin they wanted to get rid of. It was so obvious yet you couldn’t pick it up for the life of you and Spencer really thought he was flirting to the fullest extent of his ability.

One morning you were running late. You had yet to arrive but you called Hotch to let him know you’d be at the office in no more than 30 minutes because the train was down for the time being. You also had texted Spencer, asking him if he wanted something at the small coffee shop around the corner while you waited. So as Spencer gave you his order with one hand, he downed the coffees he had made for you and himself in the other.

“Whoa, kid,” Morgan chuckled, prying the cup from his hand, “slow down. Your toothpick-body can’t take all that caffeine.”

Spencer swatted at Derek in an attempt to get the cup back only to see him lift it to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan started with mock innocence, “was this for a certain communications liaison that a certain doctor has a crush on?”

Spencer rolled his eyes but felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t have a crush on her.” He made his way back to his desk, ignoring Morgan’s eyes boring into him.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he could practically hear the teasing grin in Morgan’s words, “because she likes you.”

Spencer went rigid. He spun slowly on his heel until he saw Morgan’s smirking face, feeling his stomach drop again. He couldn’t believe he fell for that. Spencer retreated to his desk with Derek chasing after him.

“Kid, kid, listen! I know you like her! I was just-”

“Be quiet!” hissed Spencer, his cheeks now coated in a healthy flush.

However, Morgan wasn’t quiet enough. Emily perked up from her desk, rolling her chair over to join the conversation. “What are we talking about?”

Spencer tensed his hands and shook his head, turning to face his work again when Morgan explained, “How pretty boy’s got it bad for (Y/L/N) and won’t do a damn thing about it.”

“What?!” Spencer whipped around, his jaw slack from panic. Morgan and Emily were cackling to themselves at his shock, not even bothering to silence themselves.

“Reid,” Emily began, clutching her stomach from laughter, “it’s okay, I know you like her-”

“What?!”

Spencer’s increasing panic only furthered the pair to laugh even harder. Was he that easy to read? Did everyone know how he felt towards you? Dread began to set into his stomach at the thought of you knowing. His overthinking mind started to wander, assuming you knew how he felt and had led him on to get free breakfast every morning. He quickly scolded himself for thinking that— he’d been hurt too many times before, making that line of thinking second nature. But you weren’t someone who wanted to see people hurt; you were too kind, too caring to do that to anyone.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Emily asked. “She obviously likes you, too.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up for a second at the thought of you feeling the same but he caught himself. A moment too late, however. Emily and Morgan teased him, batting their lashes and making kissy faces at him, leading to Spencer throwing his head in hands to hide from their stares.

The two were no later interrupted as Hotch called Emily up to his office to go over a report she had put in, leaving Spencer and Morgan alone. Derek nudged Spencer’s leg, Spencer frowning at him as he met his eyes.

“Listen, kid, Prentiss was right. Why don’t you ask her out?”

If what Derek and Emily had said was true, why couldn’t he? He imagined himself walking up to you and asking you on a date, his heart fluttering at the thought. His fantasy soon turned sour as you snorted at his question, shaking your head vigorously and pushing him out of your office.

“I don’t think I could look her in the eyes if she rejects me.” Spencer’s voice was no more than a whisper as he announced his realization.

Morgan laid a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching around Spencer’s desk to hand him a piece of paper and a pen. “Then we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. Women love it when they get love letters, so write her one.” Spencer’s eyes bulged at Morgan’s words. “Love might be a bit strong, I get it, but you get the sentiment, right? Write her a letter about why you like her, ask her out at the end of the letter, and then slip it under her door.”

Spencer nodded slowly before shooing Morgan away, already hunched over the first draft of the letter. He worked it over and over again, feeling like each copy wasn’t good enough for you until he saw his phone buzz. It was a text from you. You were heading up. Spencer panicked, folding his latest draft and slipping it under the door to your office before settling back at his desk.

You waddled in from the elevators, attempting to balance a carry-out tray of coffees and a bag of croissants in one hand and your work bag in the other. Spencer jumped up from his seat, relieving you of the items belonging to him in an instant.

“Thank you so much, Spence. I was seconds away from dropping my breakfast.” You shouldered him gently in place of a grateful gesture. He nodded, ducking his head in hopes you hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Before Spencer could say anything, your phone rang. Sending him an apologetic smile, you managed to slip it out of your pocket and place it on your shoulder, shrugging it up to your ear as you answered. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Spencer watched you walk off towards your office, taking a short sip from the coffee he definitely didn’t need. You stepped in and flicked the lights on with your elbow before tossing your bag onto your desk, freeing a hand to hold your cell phone. You took another step in before stumbling, your shoes caught on a loose paper by your door.

It was go time.

Spencer hurried back to his desk and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, even though it was extremely obvious he was. You set your breakfast on your desk and bent over to pick up the note, skimming it as you spoke. Your head snapped up and you turned to face the window that exposed the bullpen, Spencer ducking his head down and innocently reading the newspaper on his desk. He chanced a look up only to see you frown and hurriedly shut the blinds.

Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He paled and ran his hands over his face before digging the heel of his palms into his temples, massaging them roughly. You looked upset— disgusted. Why did he think you’d ever like him?

Before he could indulge in his own pity party, you stormed out of your office with a large file in hand. You raised it in the air to gather the attention of the team as you announced, “We have a case!”

The team scurried in after you, everyone finding their places in the conference room as you clicked on your presentation. The pictures of two young couples appeared on the screen as you passed the files around.

“Four victims from Atlantic City have been found dead in their homes.” You clicked to the crime scene photos, wincing at the sight. “The husbands’ C.O.D. being a slice through the carotid and the wives’ a shot through the head execution style. The husbands have also had their...hands removed.”

Hotch looked up from the file, brows furrowed. “This all happened in the span of 3 days so we need to be vigilant. He could be planning his next attack right now. Wheels up in 20.”

***

On the plane ride to New Jersey, the team had finished being briefed by Garcia’s intel quicker than usual and were left to ponder their own thoughts. You sat off by yourself at a table in the back of the jet, opening your bag to sneak out the letter left at your office earlier. You scanned the words and frowned again before being hit with a genius idea.

You stood from your seat and settled next to Spencer on the couch. Oddly, he went rigid at your presence, sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact. You shook it off and continued on with your plan.

��Spence, hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.

Spencer’s mouth went dry. He knew what you were going to ask about. What else could you be asking about? “S-sure.”

“You’re the guy who’s good at identifying handwriting, right? Like matching it and stuff?”

His eyes flickered up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on a nod. His mind swarmed with questions but none of them came out. He decided it might be best if he were silent, anyway.

“Great. Then can you help me out with” —you pulled the letter from your bag and handed it to Spencer— “this? I think I might have a secret admirer or something. Whoever it was either wanted to stay anonymous on purpose or forgot to sign their name. Either way, could you help me out?”

And that’s when Spencer started to blame Morgan for his terrible idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault but Spencer couldn’t take the blame for something so embarrassing. There his letter was, his handwriting, his words, his admission, and he forgot to sign his name.

Spencer debated the logistics of admitting to his error; he wouldn’t have you pining over a mystery man, but then again he would be asking you out in real time. The whole point of the letter writing was to not see your face and if he told you he wrote it you could reject him straight to his face. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that. So Spencer, fear consuming him, shoved the letter back in your hands with a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry, (Y/N/N), I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

“Oh,” you muttered, standing up. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.”

And as you returned to your seat on the other end of the plane, a pit formed in your stomach. You were no profiler but you hoped you could have read Spencer better, seeing if he let on any signs the letter was his, that he liked you. But at that moment you had to push it aside. There was work to be done.

***

After a few days in the case, the team had a breakthrough. They had discovered all the women had been drugged and used a bargaining chip to lead the men back to their homes before getting killed. The unsub had been targeting wealthy couples at casinos and the only way the team could catch him is if he was drawn out of hiding. The whole explanation was a long winded way of Hotch telling you you needed to go undercover as Spencer’s wife.

You begged him to let Emily take your place but Hotch assured she would be better as a lone guest to cover your perimeter. Frowning, you explained you didn’t have any undercover experience but Hotch assured you you’d be fine, that the unsub would fall easily for your charade because of your close identification with the victim pool.

So there you were, in your hotel room sitting in a dress you didn’t care for with a wire far too uncomfortable running up the length of your sleeve. Your body thrummed with nerves so, in an attempt to calm down, you reached for the letter and reread it, practically having it memorized by now.

(Y/N),

I don’t normally do these sorts of things but you deserve these sorts of things— nice things. You deserve the best things. You deserve the things that make you happy, that make you smile, that make you laugh. You deserve all of that and more.

I’ve only known you for some time but I can safely say I’ve completely fallen for you. To be entirely honest, I don’t know how everyone here hasn’t as well. You have this gorgeous smile that makes everyone light up around you. Not to mention your laugh; it’s harmonic and encapsulating, like good music you never want to turn off.

I like you. A lot. And I know you’re too good for me but I can’t help but try. I get scared because people might see right through us— through me— and you’ll realize it, too, that you’re too good for me.

But now isn’t the time to worry about the future (even though I may have a tendency to do so). I’m sorry for not being the best at words. And I’m sorry for not being able to say this to your face but I like you, (Y/N), and I want to go on a date with you.

You were sure you had the confidence to spur forward with the night.

You left your room, ready to knock on Spencer’s door when you heard hushed whispers coming from inside. From the sound of it, Spencer was trying to opt out of the night while Hotch was trying to convince him to stay.

“You’re the only one on this team that can play some convincing poker, Reid-”

“That’s not the point!” Spencer huffed. “It’s...it’s (Y/N). People might see right through us— through me— and they’ll realize she’s too good for me. They won’t buy it. Not when she looks like herself and I look like, well, me.”

Something about his words hung around in your head. It was disquieting. His words weren’t true, of course. He was everything you could’ve wanted and the sheer fact he didn’t see himself that way broke your heart. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else. Something hidden in his words triggering a memory in you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Spencer and Hotch walked out of Spencer’s room, giving you curt smiles before leaving towards the undercover van outside.

***

Fortunately, the night went as planned. The unsub was apprehended and you managed to stay cool undercover. Mostly cool. Your head was up in the air for a bit as you tried to recall what exactly Spencer had said that reminded you of something. Spencer had to focus you back in a few times but didn’t think anything of your lack of focus. Or, at least, he didn’t say it.

The jet couldn’t leave until the next morning so the team was stuck overnight at the trashy little motel the bureau had paid for. You tossed and turned in your bed, unease settling in your stomach. You decided it might be best for you to read the letter again, seeing as how it brought you such comfort earlier. But the second you scanned the words, the realization hit you squarely in the face.

Disregarding the late hour and the fact you were in pajamas, you ran out of your room and up to Spencer’s knocking on the door with haste. Spencer also seemed to be awake, answering just as quickly as you knocked.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was gravelly and low, like he had been in and out of sleep. You bit back a grin at the adorable pajamas he wore: plaid flannel bottoms and a t-shirt reading “I LOVE LAS VEGAS!” in bright gold lettering. Spencer tracked your eyes roving over his body before clearing his throat to get your attention again. “What’re you doing up at 3:00-”

“I know you wrote the letter.”

You didn’t mean to blurt it out but you just...did. Spencer coughed awkwardly and avoided your stare, shaking his head.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re…”

“Spence,” you began, taking his hand in yours, “I overheard you and Hotch talking earlier, about how people would see right through us. It’s the same thing in the letter— nearly identical.”

Spencer, positive he was completely red in the face, muttered, “Must’ve been a coincidence.”

“But it wasn’t, because I know you, Spencer.” You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you, Spencer.”

Spencer cocked his head, a smile tugging at his lips like he didn’t want to believe what you said. “You...you like me?”

You took a step towards the doctor, locking your hands around the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Yeah, Spencer, I like you.”

Spencer reached a careful hand up, brushing your hair out of your eyes and running his knuckles down your cheek with an adoring smile before connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and unsure but worth exploring. As you began to deepen it, you heard a door click open from behind you.

“Nice pajamas, you two,” Rossi teased. Spencer glared at him over your shoulder for disrupting what was the most perfect kiss he ever had. Rossi chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “I saw nothing!”

Rossi slipped back into his room, laughing to himself about the interruption. You tucked your head against Spencer’s chest, feeling him place a soft kiss against the top of your head while his arms looped around your back, pulling you impossibly tighter towards him.

“You know,” he began, his chest rumbling against your ear in the most comforting way, “I’m beginning to think I should be writing you more letters.”

“A few more couldn’t hurt.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #cm fanfic #cm oneshot

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heresathreebee · 3 years

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A Real Date

[Ava Starr x Female!Reader]

Summary: You and Ava trying a dinner date that goes very wrong (just kidding it's actually fine).

Previous Masterlist Next

Word count: 1.8k words

Warning(s): 13+ | no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp, swearing, internalized homophobia(?), I think I’m working through something here this might be a little personal (sorry in advance), past relationship angst, presumed past of dating multiple genders but there is no definitive sexuality established for reader in the present, this was going to be something else but the story took over and I had to roll with it.

Author's note: no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. I’m sorry I do not edit anymore, it only serves to stand in my way. This is part 3 of Ava Starr series beginning with Strawberry Soda. Art by Artmilla on DeviantArt (correct me if I’m wrong please)

It's important to note that not everything you see in media is the hegemonic truth. Take sapphic dating rituals for example: in media it’s a constant joke about how fast people move in together and own pets and plants like they were soulmates and always meant to be together. Which is nice to see– it’s not meant to be a cruel joke– but it does paint a picture of perfection. It doesn’t explicitly state whether your future wife is your first or fiftieth girlfriend but it sure as shit might lead you to believe every girl might be your last.

Real people don’t work that way. Real people have different interests, different lives, different traumas, different styles and needs. Every relationship is new and it has to be done deliberately and with care for what you and your partner want. So when you think about your relationship with Ava you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

Ava seems to like to take things slow. Your relationship prioritizes quality time over physical touch which you're fine with, but you can’t help it if you compare the details to other people you’ve dated. You’ve known each other for three months and in every other relationship by this time, you and your previous partners had hit a ton of milestones that you and Ava had just… not. So when you bring up the prospect of a ‘real date’ to Ava one night while cooking pasta in your kitchen, Ava chuckles.

“And what exactly constitutes as a ‘real date?’”

The television is playing some daytime television game show and the volume’s on low. You pass her the salt and take a swig from your beer with a shrug. Already you feel silly for bringing it up.

“Dinner. A movie. Sometimes both, I guess,” you say, flustered.

Ava raises an eyebrow at the softening bowtie noodles in the pot. “We’re having dinner right now…? Name one time we haven’t come back to your place to watch a movie.”

“The time the power went out and we played jenga by candlelight. But I– I mean like a date outside of the house.”

“We go to out to parks, the antique mall, lunch, the arcade–”

“Well, yeah I guess you’re right I just don’t know I still feel like–”

“Again, how is any of it different from a ‘real date?’”

“I don’t know! Just… just forget it.” you’re trying not to be bitter about it but you don’t even know what you mean so how could you explain it?

Ava calls your name softly and you already feel hot shame lick up your neck when you see her face. “I didn’t mean it like that, I– I just don’t think I understand what you mean and I want to! Honestly…”

You sigh and lean closer to her, careful not to touch but you want her to know you’re not mad. “No, I’m sorry. I just… I’ve been stuck on it for a week but I can’t seem to figure out why. Everything you’re saying I agree with but there’s still this nagging voice in my head telling me it’s not fair or I’m doing it wrong but I don’t know what it even is and I–”

You collapse onto the kitchen floor breathless. What the fuck were you even saying? Why was this bothering you so much? What ‘s different about this relationship than any other relationship you’ve already had? Your eyes are darting back and forth and your head is a million miles away. You keep talking as if saying it out loud will make your impulsive and intrusive thoughts and motivations clearer to you.

“It’s out of order. No, it’s not but it’s… with Jordan and Becky and Hal, I went on three dates before it felt normal. We did the traditional getting to know you stuff. Damien and Palavi were straight physical– not traditional at all but that still felt good enough somehow. And– and it’s not that I don’t believe what we have isn’t real, I just–

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels a little like my relationship with Kat.” You can’t believe it but then the words were out there. You had never told anybody about Kat– Ava was still learning about the rest of them– but the instant those words left your mouth you regretted them. Ava was not Kat.

For instance, Ava slipped down to sit beside you on the floor– Kat would never lower herself to meet your eye. Ava looked at you and she saw you– Kat chose to ignore your feelings whenever it became more convenient to do so. Kat made you feel special and yet not special enough– OK maybe they shared a little bit of that. A tiny, micro piece of that.

“What was Kat like?” She said the words softly and without an ounce of jealousy.

You gather your mind with a deep breath. “Dating Kat was like being strapped to a rocket. It was like being a part of something bigger and stronger than me. Being with her made me feel inconsequential and sometimes I liked that, but then… then I realized I was just a dirty little secret. Kat liked me because I was convenient to her, not because she actually cared about me.

“When we talked or hung out, it had to be on her terms. No public, no friends or family, no social media. No one was allowed to know. She passed it off as just wanting me for herself but after she dumped me for something better I realized she never saw me as her equal. And it just… I was already in a dark place and that place just kind of got a whole lot darker after that. I felt especially not special.”

You lean back and rest your head on the cabinet under the sink. “I know that’s not you. Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I have to hide a part of myself. I did a lot of stupid things in the public eye with Palavi, maybe part of that was because I was proud of who I am and I wanted everyone to know it?”

“I think I care too much about what other people think of me,” you said closing your eyes.

You didn’t expect to feel Ava lean her head against your shoulder but you don’t pull away. God, you could never pull away even as you worry she may be causing herself harm just to comfort you and your rambling. Her hair tickles a bit and smells like strawberries and lavender.

Ava lifted her head after a moment. “Let’s go on a real date then.”

Why the fuck were you so nervous? This was your idea! You had trouble picking a restaurant and picking a day and picking your clothes out and picking where to sit. So many choices with so much meaning or none at all. You just need this to be perfect because you hoped maybe this is what you need to stop that nagging in your head.

You made the call to meet each other there. You made the suggestion that it had to be somewhere nice– as in get dressed up nice. And darling, sweet, patient Ava let you have the control you so desperately needed. She offered suggestions here and there, and it helped you narrow everything down to a science. You feel a little self conscious sitting by yourself in your get up but you knew she'd be there on time.

It's just a matter of whether or not you could sit still for five more minutes.

You hold the cloth napkin in your palms to try and soak up the sweat. Forcing yourself to sit unnaturally still and you haven't touched your wine because you just know you'll get it everywhere somehow. Your eyes trace over the table to stop yourself from meeting the eyes of other patrons. Do nothing, wait it out.

Ava is stunning and you don't know she's there until the wait staff places the dinner menus in front of you. So much for pulling out her chair like you wanted to– but she's here and you break out into a big smile.

"You look amazing," you tell her.

Ava smiles and takes a sip of the rosé you ordered. The dim lighting in the room seems to soften the contours of her face but never the sharpness of her bright eyes. Something blossoms inside you and you feel it– that thing that's been bothering you like a knot in your stomach turns into a seed and its flowering now. This is your girlfriend. Not your friend who is a girl– your significant other. She's important to you and she has decided that she feels the same way about you.

You feel your body unwind, reaching across the table like you might touch her hand then stop an inch from her empty plate. She watches you curiously but without fear. After a beat, it's Ava who finishes the contact. She slips her hand into yours and you are delighted to discover she's not a corporeal being you've convinced yourself is real. Her skin is a little dry around the palm and she has calluses you never knew were there and she's real and this is happening.

You resist the urge to squeeze her fingers. Let her lead. Trust her to move away if she experiences any pain. She looks away from you with a flustered face you've never seen her wear and takes another draft of her wine.

"This is nice," she says softly.

You eat off each others' plates and you laugh together, and if anyone's watching you wouldn't know because for once you couldn't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks. You're with your person, for now or forever doesn't matter because she's letting you hold her hand and talk about a play you want to take her to on Saturday. Your heart flutters in your chest the whole way home and it’s not until you’re standing at your front door does her hand finally slip from yours. The feeling lingers though and your face hurts from smiling.

“This everything you wanted,” she asked.

“Yes,” you reply, “yes it was. Thank you for indulging me, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“I enjoyed it too.” She steps closer, seemingly reluctant to leave just yet. “We’re still going to see Rocky Horror Picture Show, right?”

“Absolutely,” you beam, “trust me, you’re gonna love it, it’s wild.” You blow her a kiss to send her on her way and spend the next hour giggling to yourself until you finally pass out from exhaustion.

#three bees writing #ava starr #ava starr x female reader #just girls being girlfriends #I'll make a masterlist for this soon I just want like two more fics

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bookswitchcraftandcats · 3 years

Text

Rainy Days (Part 4 of 4)

Link to AO3 ----- Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Emma and Julian are in charge of the London Institute for a week and find a box that once belonged to Cordelia Carstairs and contains poems written to her by James Herondale. The story switches between Emma and Julian and oneshots about things that happened in Jordelia's life to inspire the poems.

Sorry if the formatting for the poems is messed up, I tried.

Thank you all so much for reading this story, I really enjoyed writing it <3

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

“Daisies must have been her favorite flower or something” Emma says as they look around the room. Looking now that was a very obvious statement. Even some of the blankets neatly folded on the end of the bed had daisies embroidered on them. The wall paper was lined with a daisy print and on the box itself was intricately carved flowers. There are also some very old flowers that were carefully pressed and put in the box next to the poems. They were afraid to touch them for fear that they would fall apart.

“Yeah, maybe I will do a painting of her when we go home,” Julian says thoughtfully, “I should include some daisies if I do.”

“I’m sure it will be great,” Emma says thinking of his other paintings. He has done so many great pieces that if he was a mundane she was sure his work would be in an art gallery. The institute itself had turned into a sort of gallery these days, some people visited just to see the murals Julian painted on the walls.

They both were laying back on the bed and Jules had his arm around Emma. This was a nice day off after the busy day they had yesterday, they had run into some demons by the river and were outnumbered. Luckily, Emma is the best shadowhunter of their generation. Her wielding Cortana was definitely a scene he wanted to paint when he got home. The grace of her movements when she was fighting was like a dance, he could never quite capture the movement with a set of acrylics.

He checked his watch, they had plenty of time before Jem and Tessa would get here.

“We should read another poem,” he suggested. “They are kind of interesting to see what they said to each other 100 years ago.”

“Ok, I will,” she says, reaching into the box again for another poem. There was one titled Rainy Days.

“That seems fitting for today,” Julian says, glancing out the window. Emma reads the poem aloud.

Rainy Days

Outside the sky is dark and gray, The rain falls in puddles on the ground, We are in the library by the fireplace, Listening as it down pours all afternoon.

The heat of the flames warms the room, You by my side warms my heart. Even on the darkest of dreary days, You light up everything by being there.

Now you are asleep next to me, While I write about our day. I'm starting to think that I quite like, These warm and rainy days.

It was another rainy spring day in London, the snow had just melted and it was still very cold out. You could hear the wind blowing all around outside, it was quite the stormy day. None of the merry thieves or their family members would be venturing out today, they too were curled up by a fire, just like Cordelia and James.

James now looked at the sleeping Cordelia on his lap, she looked so at peace. Her soft red hair was undone and free from it’s unusual style, he combed his fingers gently through it. He thought about the day they had had. Today was very good weather for writing. With a notebook in his hand he began to come up with ideas.

------

“Good morning,” Cordelia says, sitting next to James at the kitchen table. She poured a cup of tea and looked out the window, it was raining very hard and forming puddles in the street.

“Good morning” James responds, reaching for some breakfast, “Looks like any plans for today are cancelled”

“I think it is far too cold to go adventuring in London,” Cordelia says with a shiver, it was almost spring but they still had many cold days ahead of them.

They finished their breakfast talking about rain and what crazy things their friends have been up to lately. Christopher had been working on a new invention, Mathew caused some trouble at the Hell Ruelle, nothing much different than usual. They then decided to head upstairs to the study where they could sit by the warm fire and play a game of chess.

“Shâm-Mât” Cordelia says, winning her 12th consecutive game in a row. James just laughs as they reset the board for another game. There isn’t much to do and he is still holding on to hope that he can win at least one round.

“You're too good at this,” James says with a smirk. She has always been brilliant at battle strategy, she could outsmart any opponent she faced. He looked at her with a smile as she planned her next move, her face was full of concentration. He could feel her plotting his demise.

They played chess until it was time for lunch, the sky was still gray with rain clouds. They then decided to venture to the library to look for a book to read on this cold and rainy day. James walked over to put more wood on the fire while Cordelia went to look for a book. They settled on the couch by the fire, Cordelia leaning her head against James’s shoulder while he read from an old volume of The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. There were a lot of Dickens novels in the library mostly from James’s parents' fascination with the author. Will and Tessa were both staying in Wales for a week and were not at the institute, it was just James and Cordelia.

She began to fall asleep and he smiled as he see the book on the night stand. He grabbed his notebook and began to write.

---------

So now James was still sitting on the couch trying to write a poem about the letter but he realized the poem wasn’t what he should be writing about, he spent the whole day with Cordelia and she was more fierce and interesting than any storm.

______________________________

“That was very fitting for today,” Emma says, putting the poems back in the box. She looks at the time quickly, Jem and Tessa would be there soon.

“It must rain here a lot,” Julian says, “I miss the beach” They laugh, they would be back in LA soon enough to deal with the chaos that ensues there.

They had just renovated the institute more and had been busy painting more murals on the walls. They also updated their computer and Jules got a laptop which made some things easier and more organized.

They hear footsteps coming down the hall and Tessa looks into the room.

“I see you found James and Cordelia’s room,” she says with a smile.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Jem says looking around the room. Tessa was looking at the box in Emma’s hands.

“I see you found Cordelia’s jewelry box,” Tessa smiles as though she is remembering her, “She is an ancestor of yours, she was a Carstairs before she married my son.”

“James, right? Did he write poetry?” Emma asks. Tessa looked a bit confused.

“Yes, he did. But I thought I had all his notebooks saved at my house, did you find one?”

“We didn’t find a whole notebook but we did find a few poems he wrote to Cordelia.” Jules says. Emma opens the box and pulls out the pieces of paper.

“I always wondered where the ripped out pages went, I always assumed they were just rough drafts that got tossed away.” She paused for a moment, “did you two happen to find a book called The Beautiful Cordelia. I have been looking for it for a while now and I know Cordelia had it.”

Emma pointed over to the shelf they had originally found the box on. Tessa pulled out the leather bound book that had The Beautiful Cordelia across the top in fancy calligraphy and a small “by Lucie Herondale” on the bottom.

“Thank you,” Tessa said, holding the book. Jem was looking at something across the room.

“Hey, did some of our stuff get moved up here too,” he asked, picking up a stele.

“I think so, did you find something?” Tessa asks.

“This was Will’s stele,” He says, handing it to her and looking slightly incredulous. “How much of our stuff is still here?” Tessa laughs.

“Leave some for the other generations, we don’t want to fill our house with 100 years worth of clutter.”

They all turn to leave and go get something to eat. They would never forget the poems they found, the remnants of someone else's rainy day, of another time period far away yet so near to them. While the day was dreary, dark, and wet, never let the weather depict whether there is a storm cloud raining on your day off.

_____________________________

Cordelia looks at the poems one more time with a smile before placing them in her new jewelry box. It had been an anniversary gift from James. It is wooden with her name and intricate little daisies carved onto it. The box truly is beautiful. It had been raining so she took the opportunity to organize a bit but now the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds.

James walked over and kissed her on the cheek while she latched the box shut.

“ We were invited to a picnic in the park, just the usual group. Do you want to go?” He asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“That sounds lovely,” she says, standing up from the bed and carrying the box over to the shelf. She puts it between The Beautiful Cordelia and a book of persian mythology her mother had given her. She slipped on her shoes and took James’s hand. They walked off happy as can be, standing in the sun for a change instead of being stuck inside on those rainy days.

Tag list: @fortheloveofthecarstairs @thehotfaeriethreesome @shadowrunner2000 @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia @niathesanctuary-bolastair-kanej

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list :)

#james herondale #cordelia carstairs #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #the last hours #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #jordelia #jemma blackstairs

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wkemeup · 5 years

Text

Obsession

summary: Targeted after your complicated relationship with Bucky ends up on every news channel in the city, your stalker takes things into his own hands to ensure that you belong to him, and him alone.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 11.2k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, mild torture/violence, people being assholes to Bucky,

authors’s note: oooo man Ive been dying to write something like this for awhile and I’m so happy I could incorporate a prompt from @afewmarvelousthoughts’ writing challenge! My prompt was “We’re going to be ok” Hope you enjoy!! ✨

Bucky has been through more in his lifetime than most, survived more than he should. He’d been drafted into the US army in the second world war and given a group of men to lead through the trenches of hell. He’d been a prisoner of war, twice, experimented on, tortured, beaten and mutilated for a cause he never agreed to. He’d been ripped of his memories, of his innocence, and broken down into a shell of his former self, forced to carry out orders for the vilest organization in known history.

He’d been destroyed from the inside out, in every sense of the term, and still, nothing torn through him with a paralyzing fear quite like the moment he found out you’d been taken.

O N E M O N T H E A R L I E R

“So, Y/n has a stalker.”

Bucky choked on his cereal as Tony strode into the kitchen with a hand full of manila envelopes, sporting a single raised eyebrow and a purse of his lips.

You giggled as milk trailed down Bucky’s chin, rubbing soft circles on his back until the coughing fit subsided. You nudged his shoulder as you scooped up a bite of honey nut cheerios from his bowl while he was distracted. He narrowed his eyes and you only shrugged in response, cheeks full of cereal and a drop of milk slipping from between your lips.

You didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by Tony’s announcement and yet Bucky’s palms were starting to sweat and his breaths were coming in a bit harsher than usual. He was a world class assassin, could take out a moving target from a mile away, was exceptionally calm under pressure to the point where he felt more at peace with the handle of a knife nestled in his grip than a cup of tea. That all went out the window when you were involved.

“What makes you so sure it’s a stalker and not some overly enthusiastic fan?” Clint piped up from the couch, eyes still glued on his book.

Bucky nodded to himself, attempting to bring his heart rate back to a normal pace before you could pick up on it.

Clint was right. The avengers had fans. It wasn’t a surprise that a few of them could take things a little too far. Steve has been bombarded for pictures while trying to pick up pizza from his favorite shop in Brooklyn more than once and Parker had to give hell to a few male fans not too long ago who had tried to push a girl down while she was asking politely for his autograph.

Luckily, Bucky wasn’t usually on the receiving ends of those sorts of things. The public still had a complicated relationship with the Winter Soldier, but he didn’t much mind. He was one of the few of the team who could still walk down the street without being bothered for pictures. Even without his metal arm in view, pedestrians still parted like the red sea when he walked in their direction. People would turn away, cower from him if they accidentally made eye contact. Some of the brave ones would take his picture from a distance, careful to shut off the flash, but he noticed.

In the streets, he was left alone.

But not you. No, you were exceptionally adored by the people of New York; always stopped for photos from little girls in dress up costumes hand stitched to match your stealth suit, dozens of interview requests pouring in weekly from esteemed journalists and high school newspapers alike, your image synonymous with relief, safety, and an aura of empowerment not even your critics could touch.

It was because you were so loved by the people, Bucky couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that he was the one you let hold your hand in the quiet hours at the compound, to sleep next to you at night when the nightmares were too much, to pull that smile from your cheeks he fallen so easily for.

Your relationship was complicated, a tangled mess of something a little more than friendship, but there was no doubt in his mind how he felt for you. You’d make his heart jump every time you’d walk in the door, had this uncanny ability to make him smile even on his darkest days, and you took him as he was, unapologetically and without judgement.

You were everything to him.

Voicing it aloud was something entirely different.

He knew the world would never accept a relationship between you and him. You were too kind, too selfless and generous, and he was a monster by the public’s standard, an instrument of Hydra. So, he kept his feelings hidden far away in the back of his chest and held onto the small stolen moments he had with you. For now, it was enough.

It was well known amongst the team the connection you shared, but no one dared bring it up. Not after you nearly chewed everyone out when Sam had caught you carding your fingers in Bucky’s hair during a movie night when the explosions on the screen felt too real. You had only scooted closer to him, brought his head to lean against your chest as you raked your nails soothingly against his scalp, tossing Sam a glare whenever he so much as looked in Bucky’s direction.

It was always you and Bucky.

On missions. In the gym. Making pancakes in the morning. Binge watching on the couch ‘till three in the morning. Pulling pranks on Sam.

Racing to the other’s room in the dead of night when a scream ripped through the halls. Sitting in a folding chair in the med bay for hours on end when one of you was injured in the field. Unwilling to leave for even a moment until you knew the other was okay.

You and Bucky.

Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose and Bucky found himself drawn to the manila envelopes tucked under his arm. “No ordinary fan does shit like this.”

With that, Tony let out a heavy sigh, and pulled out a stack of photographs from the first envelope. He tossed them down the table until they spread out over the surface. Bucky froze, breath hitching in his chest as his eyes darted to the pictures; each image a picture of you in various locations, unaware of the camera.

Bucky couldn’t help but instinctively slide closer to you, his thigh brushing yours just to ground himself. He watched nervously as you glanced over the pictures curiously, eyes flickering to ones of you walking out of a cafe in Queens, one in your tactical gear where you led bystanders out of the path of whatever chaos was erupting in the streets, one of you chatting casually with Wanda with an iced coffee in your hand.

You narrowed your eyes, picking up one of you on your morning jog. You were standing by a bench in central park, wrist raised as if you were about to check your heart rate when something caught your attention. Your eyes stared in the direction of the camera, but you hadn’t seen it, just a little too far to the left.

There were dozens more. All from over the last three years since you’d joined the Avengers.

“How did you get these?” Nat asked, holding up a picture of you wearing that teal blouse that always seemed to make Bucky’s heart stop as you took a picture with a fan on the street, oblivious to the photographer behind this particular photo.

“Special delivery straight to my office,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “No return address, of course.”

Bucky found his eyes caught on a photo of you walking down an empty side street in Brooklyn, dressed casually in blue jeans ripped at the knees, a grey knit sweater, and a smile thrown over your shoulder as you looked behind you to something outside of the camera’s range. Bucky remembered that day well. You were looking at him. It was the first day he had agreed to let you drag him to the coffee shop you’d been telling him about for months.

“Oh, that’s not all,” Tony grumbled, pulling Bucky from his trance as he disbursed a second wave of evidence. This time, handwritten letters in thick black ink.

Bucky scooped up one of the dozens of crinkled papers. He began to read aloud, “Today I saw you by your favorite bagel shop in Queens. Each day you grow more beautiful and I stop to wonder if you’re not Aphrodite herself. You were wearing that yellow sundress you know that I love and I bought you sunflowers to match. You’ll find these with your captors’ assistant—” Bucky shook his head. “Captors?”

“Must be us,” Steve said as he started to read one of the letters himself. “It’s signed ‘with all my love, Eros.’”

“This asshole calls himself Eros?” Sam scoffed. “What kind of a name is that?”

“The Greek god of lust,” Nat replied casually and you laughed under your breath. Only Bucky seemed to notice. He couldn’t understand why his stomach was twisting into knots and you were seemingly unaffected by this.

“I’ve got everyone working on finding this freak,” Tony said, gathering up the photographs and letters. “We’ll find him, Y/n. Don’t worry.”

You only shrugged and finished eating your cereal, sending Bucky a wink that didn’t ease the tension in his gut.

After the team had disbursed and only you and Bucky remained at the table, even long after you’d both finished your breakfast, he finally gained the courage to ask, “how are you so calm about this?”

You smiled, your hand brushing over his shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was a soothing motion you had grown to do for him over the years and Bucky leaned into it subconsciously. You had a way of easing him before he could realize what you were doing.

“I’ve known about Eros for years,” you admitted. Bucky narrowed his eyes in shock. “He’s been sending me letters since I became more public as an Agent. I knew him back when I was living in Queens before I joined the Avengers, before I met you, too.”

You must have noticed the flash of panic across his face because you reached up and brushed a hair from his eyes, smiling sweetly at him, enough to unravel the knots in his stomach.

“He’s harmless, Buck,” you said and he wished he could believe you. “I brought it to the local PD when he first showed up and they said they’d seen this stuff a million times. Men like this are cowards and they get off on appreciating from afar. He’ll never act on his delusional affection for me. Besides, I’m a highly skilled Agent of Shield and I live in a glorified dormitory for superheroes. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded as you carded your fingers through his hair. As an exhale left his lips, you stood up to wash both of your dishes. Bucky watched you as you hummed to yourself, dipping the bowls in the soapy water, and he tried to convince himself that you were right, that this Eros would never make a move on you, that it would only every amount to creepy photographs and love letters.

He should have listened to his gut.

***

Bucky sat across from you, huddled in the corner of the small family owned café in Brooklyn you loved so much. Adorned in an oversized sweatshirt and your hair tucked back into a bun at the base of your neck, a few strands falling out to frame your face, and a pair of sunglasses in hopes to conceal your identity, you blew carefully on the surface of your tea. The steam wavered slightly and you crinkled your nose as you took a sip.

Bucky smiled to himself, adjusting the rim of his baseball cap and glancing over his shoulder at the hustle of commotion coming from the kitchen. Just a black coffee for himself, he didn’t pay much mind to the scalding temperature as it passed his lips, too transfixed in the way your eyes shifted, a gentle smile curving against your cheeks, as you watched an older couple settling down at the table off of Bucky’s left.

It was your tradition; one you insisted could not be postponed even with Eros lingering over your shoulder. It was nothing new, you told Bucky. It wasn’t going to get in the way of your weekly Sunday morning tea and coffee in Brooklyn. It wasn’t always this shop and it wasn’t always on Sundays in the weeks your missions interfered, but you had insisted it was important to keep up with. You wanted to make sure Bucky felt at home in Brooklyn again, felt safe to be out in the streets, and he appreciated that more than you knew.

When both cups had been drained and the server had stopped by to retrieve the empty mugs, Bucky slid a few dollars onto the table and followed you to the door. It had been a while since the two of you had a genuine day off and Eros was virtually silent for the time being, so you convinced him to take the longer route back to the tower. Bucky was keen to do just about anything you asked of him.

So, as you led him through the streets of New York, purposely taking turns onto the less crowded sidewalks, you told him about Sam’s latest prank he planned to pull, giving him a warning Bucky was sure Sam would not appreciate, though you only giggled to yourself and held your pointer finger over your lips to hush him. You told him about your encounter with a little girl asking for your autograph while you were on your morning run and the sunrise you’d had the privilege of seeing.

As you passed a group of kids playing basketball in a small parking lot, you asked for the third time in as many weeks if was absolutely sure he didn’t want to come do a mentor day with you at the Boys and Girls Club.

“The kids would really love you, Buck,” you said sincerely and Bucky knew you truly did believe it, though he struggled to find the truth it in himself.

“Steve’s got me trying to train the new recruits in hand to hand, so I won’t be able to make it this time, doll. I’m sorry,” Bucky muttered out, pressing his lips out into an apologetic smile.

It was a bullshit excuse, one he’d given before, though you never called him out on it. You knew him well enough to understand he didn’t trust himself enough to be around kids, to be a role model when he could hardly stand to look at his own reflection in the mirror.

So when your hand snaked into his, curling against hard metal as you walked, Bucky’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He never gave you enough credit for how perceptive you were. You just smiled up at him, leaning your head on his shoulder for the smallest of moments, and the gesture told him everything he needed to hear.

That you understood. That you were there for him. That you’d wait until he was ready. That it was okay to take his time.

A light squeeze in his hand and you tugged him out of the way of a runner he almost didn’t see coming. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand in public, but it was the first time you didn’t let go after a few paces. It wasn’t a stolen moment captured before anyone else could see or do double take in your direction. Ten paces later and you hadn’t let go. One block. Two blocks. Nearly ten blocks later and your hand still set carefully in his.

He had never wished his left arm could feel more than he did right now. He could sense the pressure, articulate the warmth of your palm, feel the trace of your thumb back and forth against his soothingly as you walked, but it read like data. He wondered if you’d let him switch to your other side but he was too afraid that maybe just acknowledging it would be enough to make it stop and he couldn’t risk it.

“But, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat nervously, “maybe you’d want to help me lead this training Monday morning for the rookies?”

He grimaced as the words left his tongue, already berating himself for taking nearly ten minutes of silence just to work up the courage to ask. Your hand in his was making him light-headed and he swore you could just feel the absolute abhorrent rate of his heart beat. When he looked over at you, he was relieved to find your lips curving up into your cheeks.

“Of course! I will absolutely be there!” you grinned wildly, enough to make Bucky’s stomach weak. “You know I love kicking the ass of some of those cocky agents fresh out the academy who think they own the place.”

Bucky chuckled under his breath, nodding fondly as he remembered the time you had an arrogant frat boy on his back within three seconds of sparring.

He paused at the red light, waiting for the crosswalk to signal for them to pass, when he noticed your face light up at the sight of the ice cream shop you had told him about a few weeks ago. Your smile was so infectious, Bucky didn’t even realize the grin on his face until his cheeks started to hurt.

“Oh Bucky, we have to go!” you exclaimed giddily, your other hand wrapping around your waist to hold onto his forearm. You were practically jumping with joy and Bucky felt his heart swell. The very second the crosswalk lit green, you began tugging him towards the shop and Bucky dragged his feet just for the drama of it, chuckling under his breath as you used your entire body weight against him.

“Bucky, come on!” you laughed, and Bucky realized he hadn’t felt that carefree in years.

The moment he gave in, you dragged him up to the line extending out the door, your hand still planted firmly in his. You grinned up at him, excited in almost a child-like state that Bucky couldn’t seem to get enough of it. You were in the middle of listing your top ten favorite flavors when a voice behind him caught his attention.

“Is that Y/n Y/l/n and the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s whole body stiffened. Being recognized in public never went well for him.

“Can’t be,” a second voice scoffed, also male, though a bit deeper in tone. They were further back in the line than Bucky realized, his super solider senses picking up what you didn’t readily hear yourself. “Why the hell would a dime like that be on a date with a psychopath?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and he hadn’t noticed your eyes catch up at him worryingly.

“Bucky? Are you alright?” you glanced back down the line and though you couldn’t find any threats. You could still sense his entire body tensing and you ran your hand soothingly along his arm in hopes draw away some of the strain. You knew him too well.

“Holy shit, it totally is,” the first voice echoed, a snicker in his voice as he must have caught sight of you looking back in their direction. “Wonder if she feels sorry for him...”

“You think she’s pity fucked him yet?”

Bucky visibly winced, recoiling at the man’s taunt as they snickered behind him and he could only vaguely register you running your fingers up and down his arm, the other gripping tightly to his hand.

A group of four exited the line and the two men were suddenly standing directly behind Bucky. He could hear them struggle to hold their laughs under their breath, swatting at one another to shut the other up with no success.

“Can’t believe they let him in the same team as Captain America. Didn’t know we were letting war criminals become superheroes these days,” one deeper voice went on in a hushed whisper, unable to stop himself and his friend laughed in response. Bucky felt you take in a deep breath, your grip on his hand tightening and he knew you heard.

“It’s fine, Y/n. Just ignore them,” Bucky implored, whispering low enough so only you could hear him. You shook your head, gritting at your teeth, though you did your best to do as he asked, despite how difficult these men made it.

“How many people as he killed again?”

“How the hell isn’t he locked up in a cell right now?”

“Can’t imagine why she would want to be anywhere near that freak...”

“Should probably have him committed to a mental state with the fucked up mess in his head.”

“Hydra should’ve just spared us all and killed him when they had the chance.”

That was the final straw.

Bucky winced as you spun around on your heels, dropping his hand and shoving yours hard into the man’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces and fell straight to the sidewalk.

“You wanna say that again, asshole?” you spat as the man cowered back and you stalked toward him, his friend hulling quickly him up to his feet. “You wanna talk shit about a decorated Sergeant of the United States Army?”

“N-No! Sorry ma’am!” the boy stammered out, couldn’t have been any older than twenty. Flip flops, cargo shorts, a university t-shirt. He was practically a child.

Bucky watched as cell phones sprung up from everyone in line, trained on you, as they began to recognize who you were. A few faces turned in Bucky’s direction, eyes wide in realization as many took a cautious step away from him, and he did his best to hide his face with the collar of his jacket.

He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly reporters were swarming around the shop, bystanders shoved out of the way for cameras and microphones. The two men scrambled away and ran down the street, leaving you and Bucky at the center of flashing lights and microphones shoved in your faces.

Bucky reached out for you in the chaos, unconsciously searching for your hand. His heart only seemed to calm for a moment when he felt you grip the flesh of his right hand when the reporters started shouting questions over top of one another.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

“Tell us Agent Y/l/n, when did you start dating the Winter Soldier!”

“How long have you been together!”

“What does Captain America think!”

“What’s that arm like in bed!”

Bucky yanked you against his chest, guarding you from the camera flashes as you pushed your face into the crook of his jacket. Left arm out ahead of him acting as a shield, he attempted to push forward into the mass of reporters blocking your path but was met with too much resistance. There was no consideration to force them from his path, his public image already a nightmare without adding assaulting a journalist to the list.

The questions kept coming at you a mile a minute, and to Bucky’s relief you were able to ignore them. Until they started asking questions of a different nature.

“What are your thoughts on his dozens of war crimes!”

“Do you trust his affiliation to the Avengers!”

“What about his involvement in the attack on D.C.!”

“Do you believe he could still be working for Hydra!”

A growl ripped through you unlike Bucky had ever heard and you spun around to face the reporters, unveiling yourself from Bucky’s grasp as you shoved a hand to the microphones, swatting them away.

“Enough!” you shouted and the reporters silenced immediately. Your hand was still tied to his, gripping it tight enough to remind him you were still there even as he stood a step behind you. “You have no goddamn right to talk about him like that! James Barnes is a veteran who gave his life in service of this country! He was a prisoner of war for decades and has gone through more in his lifetime than any you could begin to imagine! He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know, so show some goddamn respect!”

With that, you whipped back around, hair flipping over your shoulders as you tugged Bucky away from the flashing cameras and stunned mass of reporters. They didn’t attempt to follow you after that.

The walk back to the tower was silent, though Bucky could feel you squeeze his hand every few paces, a careful glance up to his face. He didn’t know how to react. He knew you cared for him, he’d be a fool not to know that by now, but the way you defended him so fiercely, without even a second thought, made his legs feel weak. That footage would air on every news outlet in the city that night.

The only problem was that Eros would see it, too. Though, neither of you knew that quite yet.

***

Bucky first knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up to Monday morning training with the recruits. He had reminded you just an hour earlier when you slipped out from his bed to carefully tread back to your room for your running clothes. You had scoffed at him, feigning offense that he would even suggest you’d forget. He could still feel your fingers tickling over the bare of his back as he had curled up into the pillow for an extra hour of sleep. You promised you’d be back in time for the training.

Ten minutes past nine and still no sign of you, Bucky let out a heavy sigh and shouted for the recruits to follow him to the sparring ring.

Nearly two hours of training later, sweat dripping down his brow and a pleasant ache in his muscles, and you had yet you walk through the door.

He did his best to focus on the training, providing insight into the agent’s hand-to-hand formations and demonstrating techniques he had learned in his decades of combat. It proved rather difficult when an agent lingering near the back grumbled snide comments at every opportunity; everything ranging from Bucky’s role at an instructor to being personally offended that you weren’t here just for him to ogle at the way you looked in your workout leggings. It took most of Bucky’s self-control to make sure he still held his punches when he faced that particular agent in the ring.

“Good work today,” Bucky grunted to the young agents as he grabbed a towel and brushed it over his face, thankful it was over. He jumped over the barriers of the ring to find the agent who had been tossing a few unfavorable lines to his friends throughout the training waiting for him.

“I thought Y/n was going to join us today,” he remarked with a spiteful tone, as if Bucky’s presence had insulted him in some way. His friends snickered behind him as they watched.

Bucky rolled his eyes, his back to the agent before he turned around. “Agent Y/l/n had something come up. Maybe you should focus on the weak points in your stance rather than objectifying the best agent we have.”

A quick jag to the agent’s left side, one to his collarbone, and another to his right knee and the agent doubled over. His friends rushed forward to help him back up and Bucky chuckled to himself, exiting the gym before word got to Steve that he stepped out of line with another arrogant agent.

Bucky walked out into the kitchen for a glass of water to find the entire team gathered around the table. He paused at the threshold of the room as every pair of eyes landed on him. Tony stood at the end of the table, a solemn look upon his face and a heavy manila envelope in his hand. Bucky’s stomach dropped before he took another step forward.

“Thought you might want to see this first,” Tony said carefully and handed Bucky the envelope. Bucky stared at it for a moment, studying the folder marked with ‘To the Avengers, Signed Eros’ on the front, no return address, before he glanced back up to the team. Tony could only clench his jaw, sink down into the chair as his hand brushed over his mouth.

Trembling hands worked at the metal clips of the envelop that suddenly felt too heavy to carry. The team watched carefully as Bucky pulled a pile of pictures from the folder.

They were dark in color, lighting dim, but Bucky could make you out upon the image clear as day. Blood trailed down the side of your face, tape pressed over your mouth, and arms tied behind your back as you were clearly struggling against restraints, parts of your body blurred in the sudden movements captured in the photograph.

Bucky could hardly breathe, his chest twisting and burning, angry tears prickling in his eyes. He dropped the first photo to the floor, flipping through the rest only to find more of the same.

Photo after photo of you wincing as the flash lit the darkened room, close ups of the wound on your head where Eros must have knocked you out, a tear in your leggings at the knee, your wrists tied to the back of the chair in painful knots, red skin burning under the rope. Wide eyes, reflection of tears on your cheeks, and Bucky dropped the rest of the photos to the ground.

Paper thin and they fell with deafening sound.

The team swarmed in, each gathering a few photos to examine, to attempt to find any kind of clue to your location through the subtleties in the background of the images, but Bucky couldn’t stand to look at them any longer. He couldn’t see you like that, vulnerable, scared. It wasn’t right, didn’t sit well upon your features. He never thought he’d have to see you so afraid.

As the team argued amongst themselves over what farfetched lead to pursue first, Bucky found himself backing out of the room. He couldn’t let himself stop and think about the moment you were taken or what Eros was doing to you at this moment or how long you had been held hostage by this psychopath before anyone even realized you were gone.

There was nothing he could do but wait. Tony had the most advanced technology available outside of Wakanda, so if anyone had a chance in finding you off of these photos alone, it was him.

So, Bucky retreated to the one place he thought might be able to ground him.

He stood outside the door to your room for nearly five minutes before he let himself turn the knob. It was cold to the touch and the door squeaked as he stepped inside, something he had grown to be cautious of in the early hours of the morning when he’d seek you out after a particularly bad nightmare. You’d let him crawl into the bed next to you and even though he’d try to keep his body at the furthest edge of your bed, you’d still find a way to curl up against him and ease away the afflictions in his mind.

Bucky swallowed back the lump in his throat as stepped further into the room, taking in the smell of your freshly washed laundry and the faint scent of the vanilla candle you burned when you read at night. Framed pictures covered your shelves in the spaces absent of your collection of books and trinkets. Imaged of the avengers in their most human qualities; some candid, laughing and blissfully unaware of the camera, some posed, arms throw around one another, the widest smiles up their faces.

Though one in particular drew his attention. It was an image of you and Bucky; a selfie he had agreed to take after much persuasion while you were on a mission in Paris together and decided to stay an extra day after you recovered your intel. The Champs-Élysées stood in the background just over Bucky’s left shoulder. You were curled up against his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he let his arm drape over your shoulders.

Bucky was the only one looking at the camera though, a smile curved on his pressed lips as you looked up at him, seemingly caught mid-laugh, the brightest look in your eye he’d ever seen.

He picked up the photo, holding it carefully in his hands, as a dried flower slipped out from behind the frame, falling delicately to the floor. He bent down to retrieve it, examining it in his hand for a moment until he recognized what it was from.

It was the first elaborate party he had agreed to go to after you had spent nearly an entire week begging him to come with you. If he was honest, he only gave in after Nat showed him the dress you were going to wear; long, forest green, with gemstones in the details and a neckline that was sure to kill him. Not much else could have convinced him to put on a suit and stand around at some stuffy gala to promote a public image he knew he’d never find the favor of.

He had felt a little awkward, showing up at your room to pick you up for something as fancy as this without anything to give to you. He was still a man of his time after all, so he had clipped the end of a carnation from the vase sitting in the center of the table that Wanda had picked from the garden, and handed it awkwardly to you as you opened the door. It was the first time he saw you blush.

He couldn’t believe you actually kept it. The gala was nearly a year ago.

“Buck?”

Breath caught in his throat, Bucky set the frame and the flower back on the shelf before turning around to find Steve leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey Steve.”

“We’re gonna find her,” he said, knowing exactly the train of agonizing thoughts swarming in Bucky’s mind.

“What if we don’t? What if this is it and I never told her that I--” he sucked in a breath, unable to finish the sentence aloud. “I can’t lose her, Stevie. I can’t...”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “Tony’s got everyone on this. All we can do is wait.”

Bucky nodded, but found he couldn’t seem to meet his friend’s eye. He sat on the edge of your bed, hands clenching at his knees as the bed dipped slightly when Steve took a seat next to him.

He didn’t know how long they sat there together in silence, could have been hours as far as Bucky knew. Steve’s hand would find its way onto Bucky’s shoulder every so often, just enough to offer him a light squeeze, remind him he was there when he noticed Bucky’s breathing increase a little too harshly.

Then, a subtle knock on the door and Bucky turned to find Nat standing just beyond the frame.

“Suit up. We’ve got something.”

***

Bucky woke to a blinding pulse at the back of his head. Struggling to adjust to the dim lighting of the room, he reached to the nape of his neck and touched a sticky wet substance. He didn’t need to inspect his fingers to know they’d be marked in red.

As he tried to stand, he found that he was met with a resistance in his left arm. Narrowed eyes glanced down to find his wrist secured to the wall, bound by a thick titanium band bolted into the cement.

He cursed under his breath, slumping down into the floor. He tried to think back to what had gone wrong, but his memory was hazy. He remembered enough to know that Tony’s AI had located the general vicinity Eros was holding you within a five mile radius and the team had split up to cover the most ground. Bucky took the north east quadrant on his own, despite Steve’s protests.

Whatever got him, he never saw it coming. Though, a concentrated burning in his side told him he’d been hit by a taser. Eros must have got him over the head when he was incapacitated by the electricity in his veins. A coward’s offense.

As Bucky’s eyes began to adjust to the room and he sucked in a harsh breath at what he saw.

Hand developed photographs were stung around the room in rows crossing above his head, taped against the wall, and throw along the floors. Some that he recognized from the day Tony had introduced the team to Eros, others from various locations around the city, some from before Bucky even knew you back when you were living in Queens near your cousin.

Though, there were a few, ones with dark red borders that caught his attention. Ones that made his stomach drop and left a deep unsettling ache in his chest.

Pictures of you with him.

Eros had written LIAR and TRAITOR over the images of you and Bucky in your tactical gear emerging from the helicarrier after a mission in Paris, over images of you walking next to Bucky down the busy streets back when he was sure to keep a careful distance from you, across pictures of you sitting next to Bucky in central park the day you had convinced him to start reading the Harry Potter books.

Labels of WHORE and SLUT carved upon images of you staring fondly at Bucky across a table in the café in Brooklyn you loved so much, upon images of the brief moments you had gathered his hand in yours in public, and over smiling faces as he had pretended to struggle to keep up with you on your morning jog. Stolen moments when you thought no one could see, not even Bucky.

In every image, his face was burned out with the hot edge of a lighter.

Suddenly, a sharp clicking at the door rang out into the room and Bucky recognized it as the locks unfastening. He steadied himself, back straight against the wall though he had no leverage sitting on the floor. His arm affixed to the cement didn’t allow for much else.

The door creaked open slowly and a muffled grunt echoed in from the hall. Some kind of commotion; a struggle, maybe. Bucky narrowed his eyes, craning his neck to get a better view, when the door slammed against the adjacent wall. His heart leapt at the sound, though nothing was quite like the twist of dread in his stomach at what followed.

You were thrown into the room, sliding hard on your shoulder and hip as you fell to the ground. Your arms were bound in front of you, wrists red and raw beneath the ropes, and blood dripped from the side of your face. Sweat gleamed over your skin, left in your workout gear though there was a tear at the knee, just as in the pictures he had seen earlier that day. A thick swatch of silver tape covered over your lips, muffling the groan you let out as you struggled to your feet. Otherwise, you appeared unharmed, though Bucky still struggled to catch his breath at the sight of you in chains.

A man Bucky assumed to be Eros stalked in behind you and grabbed a firm hold of your wrists, yanking you forcefully to the center of the room where he hooked the cuffs to a latch in the floor. Once secure, Eros backed away, admiring his work.

He was nothing like Bucky imagined him to be; tall, an incredibly average looking man, with thick rimmed glasses and a white button-down shirt. He looked like he had a stable job in an IT start up, albeit a maybe few social limitations, but entirely normal nonetheless. He could have been following you for years and you’d never pay him a second glance. He blended into the background with ease.

The way in which Eros watched you, a sickening smirk upon his lips, enjoying the way your breaths panted in your chest as you tried to brush the sweat from your forehead with your exposed shoulder, only to smear it further on your face.

You were on your knees, bent over to ease at the pain in your wrists. Tugging at the restraints, a heavy exhale left your lips when it didn’t budge. You slumped over onto your hip, an aura of exhaustion and defeat in your features.

Slowly, in agonizing pace, Bucky watched as you took notice of the pictures, eyes falling on the images he shared with you and a surge of panic in the hue of your iris. Your hand right hand curled into a fist to stop the sudden tremors.

Then, before Bucky could quite prepare for it, your eyes landed on him. You let out a guttural cry, though it was muffled against the tape secured over your mouth, as you tugged forcefully at the restraints. You tried to scramble towards him, but you were pulled back by the clang of the metal chain latching taunt.

His name upon your lips was subdued by the tape, your eyes wide and fearful as you looked him over. Bucky’s heart was pounding terribly in his chest, painfully so, as you winced against your bindings the more you attempted to reach him.

“Y/n, look at me. It’s okay,” Bucky urged, as the bindings on your wrist cut through and blood began to drip down to your fingertips. “We’re going to be okay, you hear me? We’re okay.”

You froze for a second, just meeting his eye and Bucky swore he saw a world of pain masked behind your irises. You shook your head subtly as eyes began to redden in the strain. You didn’t believe him. He wasn’t so sure he believed himself.

“Now the real fun can begin,” Eros grinned, stepping away from the wall as he moved to kneel by your side. His hand traced down the side of your cheek and you flinched away, shooting him a glare “Do you like the present I brought you? I thought you’d be happy I retrieved your plaything for you.”

Bucky watched as Eros stood slowly to his feet, a sinister look in his eye. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long, black rod. He flicked the switch at the bottom and a buzzing sound filled the room, sparks of electricity bursting between the metal prongs at the end.

“Why don’t we have a little fun with him?” Eros smirked as he admired the taser. “It’s seven times the standard issue volts. Should be enough to bring down a super solider, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, words smothered by the tape over your mouth as you struggled to reach Bucky. The chains pulled you back every time.

Bucky met your eye for a moment, silently telling you he could take it, and maybe a part of him did believe that until Eros plunged the taser into his side.

His entire body tensed, slumping down to the floor, rigid, unable to control his limbs as jolts of energy eroded at his muscles. Convulsing tremors, breath caught in his lungs, he could hardly register your stifled screams. It brought him right back to the chair, to Hydra. There was no end in sight.

Then, relief as Eros pulled the taser away and the faint smelt of burnt flesh stung in Bucky’s nostrils. He laid on the floor, motionless.

“This is your hero?” Eros spat at you, nudging Bucky with the tip of his shoe, his body lifelessly slumping back down against the ground when he pulled his foot away, unable to move. “This is the asshole you've been parading around the city with? Huh? This pathetic excuse for a man? When you could be with me?!”

You screamed against the tape, tears brimming in your eyes as Eros brought the taser down to small stretch of skin exposed on Bucky’s collarbone. There wasn’t even a moment to prepare himself before the electricity surged through him again, rendering him completely helpless to the charge. Muscles stiff, body twitching, eyes rolling behind his head, and all he could focus on was your muffled cries.

Eros didn’t let up until he had grown tired of hearing you cry for another man and released Bucky from the electric waves in his veins. He crossed the room and ripped the tape from your mouth. You recoiled at the sudden stinging, clenching your jaw as red marks were left behind on your skin.

Bucky panted, attempting to catch his breath as he slowly hulled himself back to a sitting position. His muscles were too weak, he could barely lift his flesh arm. He weighed thousands of pounds, and his eyes were falling heavy. Brain too fuzzy.

“What do you want with him?” you demanded, voice broken and raw, as your eyes quickly flashed down to Bucky; a lifetime of guilt and apologies swimming in your eyes that took him off guard.

“The question isn’t what I want with him,” Eros responded, “but rather, what you want from him that matters here.”

You narrowed your eyes, glancing up at Eros for only a moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Eros shrugged, though there was a coy expression in his lips. “I need you to convince me he won’t come between us. I have seen the way he watches you. I know of his feelings for you. He’s corrupting you, my love; convinced you that he’s some kind of hero when we all know what he truly is. He’s trying to keep us apart; don’t you see that? I can't let that happen to us. I won’t let him take you from me.”

With that, Eros reached into a drawer nestled in the corner of the room and pulled out a handgun. You swallowed thickly, exchanging a nervous glance with Bucky. Eros cocked the gun, clicked off the safety, and in one foul movement, aimed the barrel right at Bucky’s head. Your eyes blew wide as a gasp left your breath.

Eros smirked. “I’m going to free him of us for good. “

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw as an unsteady breath came in through his nose, preparing for the worst, when he heard you scream.

“NO!”

Eros raised an eyebrow, a twitch in his eye as he stared at you. He hadn’t expected that. He wanted you to fall into his fantasy, to be the woman he made you out to be, who would be relieved that he had destroyed the man who was keeping you from him.

Bucky opened his eyes again, watching the exchange between you and Eros; the way your hands trembled as you closed them into fists, the displeased look upon Eros’ face.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Eros grumbled.

Then, your face hardened, a seeming realization passing over you that Bucky didn’t catch onto. You took in an even breath, straightening your shoulders as you turned to face Eros, a purse in your lips as you glanced over Bucky from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t you want the satisfaction that I chose you over him?” you said breathily and Eros narrowed his eyes, waiting for you to continue. You licked at your lips, keeping your eyes trained on Eros. “There’s no reason to kill him. He's not worth the bullet. He’s not worth anything.”

Bucky swallowed back the bile in this throat, an awful pang in his stomach. He knew you were feeding into the man’s fantasy to bide time but hearing the words come from you, in your voice, hurt more than Bucky was able to hide. Eros must have noticed the way Bucky’s eyes darted to the ground and he sneered, urging you on.

“He’s nothing to me. Nothing,” you pressed, urgency in your voice as Eros took another step in Bucky’s direction, gun still aimed at his head. Your eyes widened as Bucky felt the cool metal of the barrel against his temple. “I was- I was using him! He’s nothing but something to pass the time with. You think I would actually want to be with him? An ex-Hydra hitman with a fucked up brain who can’t even get through a night without crawling into my bed? He’s practically a child. I have no interest in babysitting a grown man.”

A grin tugged at Eros’ lips and he let the barrel of his gun drop just enough for an audible exhale of relief to pass over your lips. Bucky clenched at his jaw, muscles aching in the effort. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself you were lying, that you’d never think those things of him, the pain in his chest only seemed to grow.

“Tell him how you really feel,” Eros demanded.

You didn’t respond, though Bucky could feel your eyes on him, begging him to look at you, but he couldn’t find the strength. His name passed over your lips, a breath so quiet he was sure not even Eros could hear it. He had always cherished the way his name came from your voice, like it was something precious, something that could be loved, adored. But now, it was broken, afraid, aching for a forgiveness he had absolved before the words had even left your tongue.

“Say it to his face!”

Harsh hands took a tight hold of Bucky’s hair, sharp pain in his scalp, yanking him up to meet your eye despite his protests. Bucky could do nothing to fight against him, limbs too weak from the remnants of electricity in his muscles. Eros hulled him like a rag doll, gun pressed up into Bucky’s throat. He tried to swallow, but found it too restricted by the barrel.

Your eyes were wide, fear dilating your pupils, unable to speak. Until the echo of the safety clicking off pierced through the silence of the room.

“You mean nothing to me.”

The words spilled from your lips, barely above a whisper. Bucky’s heart ached as you looked him dead in the eye, willing the emotion from your face as you put on the façade for Eros he so craved.

“I don’t want you. I could never want you,” you continued, struggling to keep your voice flat.

“Good, good,” Eros urged you on.

“You’re weak and- and pathetic.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes and Bucky tried to find a way to tell you he knew, that it was okay, that he understood why you were saying what you did, that he could handle it even if it stung, even if the words lingered in the back of his head after this was all over.

These words were never meant to come from you. He'd heard them before, on the streets from strangers, from the men at Hydra, in his own head. He knows these words well. He never wanted to imagine what they’d sound like in your voice, even if you only spoke them to save his life.

“Keep going,” Eros purred, readjusting his grip in Bucky’s hair, forcing him to wince at the sting in his scalp. “You know exactly what to say.”

You paused, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“You’re a monster. You’re broken and irredeemable and you will never be good enough for me.” Your voice cracked as you spoke the words you had once sworn so adamantly against. You had spent months reminding him at every opportunity that he was more than what Hydra made him, that he was worthy of love, that he was a good man with a kind heart who was dealt the worst cards imaginable.

It felt like all of that was being wiped away in a matter of minutes.

Eros released Bucky’s hair long enough to cross the room to kneel down by your side, his hand jutting out to grab a firm hold of your chin, yanking you to face him. He glared at the tears falling down the sides of your face like they had offended him. A snarl slipped past his lips.

“I don’t believe you,” he spat, shoving you back to the ground.

Eros had crossed the plane of the room before Bucky could realize what was happening and he turned on the television, sliding in a VHS tape to the opening at the bottom. Bucky watched you carefully, taking note of the way you couldn’t look in his direction, eyes focused on the floor.

The white and grey fuzz in on the screen soon transitioned into an image of you standing in front of a series of microphones. Bucky narrowed his eyes, watching as Eros hit play and your voice echoed through the room. It was from the day you had defended Bucky to the journalists in front of the ice cream shop. They played iPhone footage a bystander captured of you shoving the college kid out of the line after he and his friend took their comments a step too far, then switched to your impromptu press conference.

“He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know-” your voice rang out before Eros hit pause, rewinding it again.

“He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know-”

You winced at every line; every scratch of the tape as it rewound to play again. Eros stood with his hands crossed over his chest, a rage building in his eye with every word. He paused the recording and Bucky caught sight of the way your hand clasped into his came into view in the bottom corner of the screen in between transitions in the chyron.

“Does that look like a woman who believes an ounce of the bullshit you just tried to push off on me!” Eros roared, shoving the tv off the stand and it fell to the ground with a thud heavy enough for Bucky to wince. The screen cracked, jets of green and blue obstructing the image of the tape until it flickered and faded to black.

“He’s manipulating you! Don’t you see that!?” Eros crossed the room, yanking the gun from his jeans once again and aiming it in Bucky’s direction.

“No! Please, I’ll do anything!” you begged, a sob cracking in your voice as you threw aside all pretenses of the façade. “I’ll- I’ll stay with you! I won’t try to run! Just, please, don’t hurt him!”

“Pathetic,” Eros spat, kicking away your hand as you reached for him. “You have no idea what he’s done to you!”

Eros straightened his back, a steady breath in as he adjusted the positioning of his weapon, clicking back the safety. “Once he’s gone, you’ll see.”

Bucky was only able to meet your eye for a moment before the deafening sound of the gunfire rang through the encased space. There was a terrible ache in his stomach, though he found he couldn’t quite focus on that with you screaming just a few feet away from him, tears falling down your face as you yanked against the chains binding you to the floor.

He only stared at you, watching intently as a ringing buzzed his in ears, muffling your cries. He wondered briefly why you were so upset when his right hand reached to touch the pain in his stomach and his fingers were coated in blood. Bringing his hand out in front of him, he examined the red glistening against his skin and his vision started to blur.

He slumped down onto his back, a faint chuckling registering as Eros crouched over him. Bucky could hardly keep his eyes open and even through his haze, he knew your face was the last thing he wanted to see when the darkness took him in; the tender look behind your eyes he had come to adore, the curve of your nose, the faded scar on your forehead from your first mission together, the hue of your lips. He just needed to see you one last time.

Bucky turned his head away from Eros to find your eyes bloodshot in red, blood oozing from your wrists, as you desperately tried to reach him with no avail. Tears streamed down your face and you were screaming, words he couldn’t quite understand, as he felt the cool edge of a barrel press to his temple. Eros smirked.

Then suddenly, a loud bang and Bucky watched hazily as your attention diverted to the door. A second gunshot rang out and Eros was suddenly on the floor.

Bucky’s lids were falling too heavy, he could hardly make out the sound of at least four sets of footsteps racing into the room. As he struggled to push his eyes open, he found a blur of red hair, hands working at the cuff on his left wrist with a laser.

His chest felt heavy. Each breath harder to take in. He let his eyes fall shut.

Then, he was being shaken forcefully, his left arm fallen to his side away from the wall, and he jolted his eyes open again to find you hovering over him. Steve stood just above your shoulder attempting to draw you away gently, though you clung onto Bucky with all you had.

Your hands gripped into his jacket, tears falling into his suit.

“Don’t do this! Don’t leave me! P-Please, Bucky! I need you to- to stay awake... Please!” you sobbed and Bucky wanted nothing more than to reach up and brush his hand over the side of your face, capturing the tears with his thumb as they fell, but his arm was too heavy. He couldn’t lift it.

He tried to nod, to tell you he’d do anything and everything you asked, but instead, his lids began to fall. The last thing he saw was Steve lunging down to scoop you into his arms as you kicked and screamed against him, desperate to throw yourself back towards Bucky.

Hands gripped under his body and then, he was floating.

***

Bucky woke to an influx of white light and a steady, high pitched beeping. He groaned, squinting his eyes as he attempted to adjust to the room, only to recognize it as the med bay of the avenger's compound. A quick glance to his left and he saw the red line on the monitor displaying his heart rhythm. To his right, you sat curled up in a chair, your hand grasping his as you slept and Bucky could hear the beeping pick up in pace as he finally took notice of your intertwined fingers.

He sank back into his bed, a semblance of relief passing over him as he let his thumb brush over your hand. Your nose scrunched in your sleep, adjusting your position in this chair Bucky could only wonder how you’d been able to find rest in. The days Bucky found himself in your position, he’d be leaning so far over the bed, he’d practically be on top of you just trying to find a position that didn’t kill his back.

He barely even noticed the lingering ache in his stomach when he looked at you.

“She’s been here for two days.”

Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as his lips curved into a soft smile. Bucky exhaled, nodding. He should have known. At least someone convinced you to shower and put on some fresh clothes. Cho must have wrapped your wrists as well and attended to the wound on your head. It brought him some peace to know you had been looked after while he slept.

“What happened?” he asked groggily, his voice raspier than he realized. His left hand ghosted over the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

Steve sighed, stepping further into the room, his arms folding over his chest. “Red Wing caught sight of you through a small crack in the foundation of the wall and alerted us to your coordinates, but we were too late. By the time we heard the gunshot, we had just entered the building. Eros was leaning over you, had a gun to the side of your head, and Nat didn’t hesitate to take the shot. Sam untied Y/n and... Buck, you should have seen her. I could barely get her away from you long enough for Sam and Clint to hull you out to the quinjet. She was inconsolable. She really thought you were gone. We... we all did for a minute there.”

Bucky nodded eyes flickering over to you, a semblance of a smile as he memorized the way your hair brushed over your cheek, lips twitching in your sleep. You looked so peaceful like that. He couldn’t imagine being the source of your pain.

“You should tell her how you feel.”

Bucky swallowed, not daring to look Steve in the eye, though he didn’t bother denying it.

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, Buck,” Steve continued, “but, the look on her face when Clint and Sam carried you away, the way she fought me, just trying to get back to you... it’s not something I will easily forget. It was the look of someone who lost everything.”

“What if it changes things?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Steve smiled and he nodded in your direction. Bucky followed his eyes to find you stirring in the chair, your free arm stretching high above your head as you yawned. When Bucky looked back to ask Steve what he should say, he was already gone. So, Bucky found himself waiting anxiously, heart monitor beeping a little faster, as you opened your eyes.

It took a moment before you realized he was awake. Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, the ends curving up ever so slightly. The shades of your eyes fell upon him and your entire body froze. You sucked in a gasp, and suddenly your breaths were coming in too fast, eyes darting across his face as they blurred in glossy tears.

“I’m okay,” Bucky said carefully, wincing at how broken his voice came out. He squeezed your hand as you brushed the tears from your cheeks. “Y/n, I’m fine, doll. Please don’t cry...”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky... I’m so sorry,” you cried and Bucky felt a horrible ache in his heart. He tugged on your intertwined hand until he could pull you to the side of the bed, bringing you close enough to hold you against his side. Despite the pain in his abdomen, he adjusted himself on the bed, moving over to provide you the room to lay next to him.

“Please don’t apologize, doll, I’m doing just fine,” Bucky soothed as you curled up against him, your face buried in the crook of his neck and he could feel the wet of your tears drip onto his skin.

“He almost killed you, Buck. After- after all those horrible things I said to you,” you shook your head against him, unable to hear him. He’d been in your place too many times, been on the end of an inescapable misplaced guilt and self-loathing, and you’d always known what to say to bring him back. He hoped he could provide even an ounce of that for you.

“I know you didn’t mean ‘em, sweetheart,” Bucky said sincerely, brushing his hand over your forehead to draw the hair away from your eyes.

“But I said them, Buck. I said them and- and then you almost died! It coulda been the last things you heard me say and you didn’t- you didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/n...”

“I love you,” you confessed suddenly and Bucky swore his heart fully stopped. You pulled yourself up from his chest, just enough to meet his eye. You swallowed, your eyes capturing his and he swore he saw a flicker of a smile upon your tear stained lips.

“I am fully, and honestly, in love with you,” you continued, a brightness forming behind your eyes as you spoke that took Bucky’s breath away. “You are everything to me. You’re my best friend, Buck, and I don’t ever want to spend a day without you. I’m... I’m sorry it took until my deranged stalker nearly killed us to tell you that.”

Bucky surprised himself when a chuckle escaped past his lips, easing the tension in your face. You laughed back, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up with both of you. Bucky reached forward, his hand cupping around the side of your face, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

“You know I feel the same way, don’t you?” he asked nervously. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you.”

“Really?” you grinned and the genuine shock upon your face only seemed to make Bucky’s stomach weaker. His cheeks started to hurt from smiling. It was a new feeling.

“Sam said I’ve been obvious about it, honestly.”

“Well what does Sam know anyway?” you teased, and even if Bucky’s heart was already filled to capacity, it managed to swell a little more.

Your laugh lingered a little longer, prolonging into the silence that followed, and Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your lips. The gentle beeping over his head pulsed quicker as you leaned in closer to him, eyes darting up to his when he felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks. With a nod so subtle he wasn’t sure you had seen it, you closed the space between you and then your lips were on his.

Warmer, softer, than he imagined; you tasted of the mocha creamer you drowned your coffee in. Bucky’s hand snaked up into your hair, pulling flush you against him as he bit and sucked at your lips, do desperate to have you near. He grunted as your weight fell onto his wound and you yelped, laughing as you tried to pull yourself off of him, though he wouldn’t budge. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“What in the-”

You jumped off of Bucky, wiping your lips as your cheeks flushed red. Bucky chuckled, the ache lingering in his stomach as he glanced between Banner standing in the doorway and you attempting to hide red burning in your face.

“Maybe take off the heart monitor next time, kids,” Banner snickered, shaking his head with a massive grin as he disappeared down the hall again.

It only took one glance over in your direction before your lips were on his again, your body curled up against his side, careful of the wound on the left side of his torso, as he ran his hand along your back. You gripped at his right hand and pulled the heart monitor from his finger, tossing it to the floor. The beeping ceased and Bucky laughed against your lips.

“Think you can survive this, Sarge?” you panted as you peppered kisses along his jaw line.

“I’ve survived a lot in my life. I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Bucky grinned, cupping the sides of your face to bring you back to his lips. He pressed a simple, chaste kiss to your mouth before he pulled back, just enough to memorize the swollen look of your lips and the loving daze in your eye. “But, if this takes me out, I think I’m okay with that.”

“Shut up,” you giggled pushing forward to kiss him again and he didn’t mind one bit.

“You and me, doll. We’re going to be okay,” Bucky mumbled against your lips, drinking you in and reveling in the feel of you. It was heaven. It was home.

You pulled back for only a second, lips red and flushed, and hands grazing over the sides of his face. He’d never seen eyes as warm and loving as yours. You nodded with a smile beaming on your face.

“We’re going to be okay.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #my writing #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #yourmarvelousthoughtswc

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kermitbread · 4 years

Text

ok fuck it. this thing has been in my drafts for far too long now, and I think it's about time I stop being scared and just post it already hsjjsksfjdk

concepts of an au I probably will never write, based off/inspired the ghost hotel au (of course, with some differences)

Daily Life at the Ghost Cafe (summarized)

somewhat light, slice of life-esque

the Ghost Hotel here isn't a hotel, but a cafe

Nene is a simple village girl (just a catch though: she can see and interact supernaturals)

She can see Mokke, but they're pretty harmless

She's afraid of the even more dangerous supernaturals, though

Because of her odd connections to the far shore, the people of the village don't really like her

She's forced to leave her village when things somehow get out of hand

Gets lost in the forest that's said that no one ever gets out of ever again

Until she stops by a strange but nifty looking building in the middle of the woods

She finds out it's a cafe and meets one of the staff

He introduces himself as Tsuchigomori, who mostly tends to the front counter

He spooks Nene out for a while (who wouldn't be spooked)

Then she meets another member of the staff, Aoi, who's one of the waitresses

She helps ease the tension in the whole room at least

Everyone's looking ordinary, yet Nene couldn't help but feel like something's off

"You must be tired, right? Why don't you have a seat and I'll get something for you to drink?"

She follows Aoi's offer and sits down for a while, but the feeling never leaves her

Finally her resolve breaks and she sneaks to the back, where the kitchen is

And boy, what a load of surprises it was

Floating kitchen utensils, and that broom sweeping up dirt on its own

A blond haired boy in chef's attire was busy adding icing on a tray of cupcakes

He would have looked normal if not for the wolf's ears and tail

He was also yelling at a pink haired boy wrapped in a lot of bandages

This cafe wasn't ordinary after all! It was a cafe full of supernaturals!

She accidentally makes a noise and catches their attention

"Huh? It's a human!"

"What?!"

Nene gets scared and runs off from the cafe

Not too far off in the forest, she bumps into something

A dark purple mass of arms and eyes blocks her path, hovering over her menacingly

About to be attacked, she just waits for the worse to come

She catches sight of some will-o-wisps flying right at the creature and tearing right through it at high speed

It breaks apart and Nene slowly looks up to see who had rescued her

It was a... young boy?

With choppy black hair and a white seal on his right cheek

Wait, why did he have those will-o-wisps around him?

He comes near her, reaching out to pat her head and smiles

"You gotta be more careful, you know? Humans die pretty easily."

His smile becomes wide, showing off extremely sharp fangs

Ah. A vampire...?

Does she faint regardless? Yep

Hours later, she wakes up in a room

It's the manager's room at the second floor of the cafe

Was she brought here by that boy? Were they going to eat her?

She starts plotting her escape, but the door opens and the same boy enters

"Oh, you're awake!"

He seemed pretty friendly, just like Aoi

Come to think of it, none of those supernaturals really meant any harm

One of them did save her, after all

"Sorry for frightening you. It's been a long time since we've seen any humans around these parts."

"It... it's okay... I overreacted..."

Somehow the fear of supernaturals fade away slightly

"You can call me Hanako! I'm the manager of this place."

Manager?! He certainly didn't have the looks of one

"I'm Nene. Thank you for saving me!"

Well, she had to be at least polite to her savior

Even if he was prone to probably murdering her

"I'm sorry if everyone here scared you. I assure you, none of us have ever harmed any human ever!"

The way he says it doesn't really make it better

Ok, maybe a little bit

"We can take you back to your home, if you'd like. Sorry for the trouble we've caused."

He sounded so apologetic

Nene felt a little guilty

"No... Actually... I don't have a place I can come home to anymore."

Hanako is silent for a while. It's like he knows what she's talking about all too well

"...why don't you stay with us?"

"Eh? A-are you sure? I'll just be a bother..."

"It's fine! Besides, we could use a little bit more hands around here."

Nene felt glad about it. She could at least show her gratitude properly now

And despite being a supernatural, Hanako was kinda cute

She did not think that. Nope. Nope.

And thus begins her daily life in the Ghost Cafe

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #hananene #should I write this tho?#i wanna hear everyone's thoughts #hmmm #maybe when i get my phantom thief au done #i might pick this up again

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Part 6

Ok, so for the parts that are in italics, that’s meant to signify that they’re speaking a foreign language. What does marinai sound like in my imagination? Have you ever heard Hebrew or Arabic or even Aramaric poetry? How GORGEOUS it sounds? Like that.

Again, a thousand thanks to @kriskukko for letting me do this and borrow their art, thanks to @punkhorse96 for all of your amazing feedback. Enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Part 6

You were barely able to walk up the steps of your own home. Demsey Draft had rutted you so good, so many times in every way you could ever want and made you feel like a treasured, beloved goddess and certainly worshiped you like you were one, so much so that your legs felt like jelly, but the happy, dreamy smile on your face was priceless. You went straight upstairs and dressed in something else moura but something clearly less sexy but much more comfortable and simply had your hair down in soft curls as you applied a face mask so that your complexion tomorrow would be as glowing as your insides surely were right now. It had been just what you needed.

You needed to get the taste of that pregnancy warding tea out of your mouth though. Although you knew that much more of these meetings, you were going to associate the taste with Demsey and soon you’d drink it and instantly get turned on.

“Did you have a pleasant evening My Lady?” Rose asked as she helped you take off your face mask before you would eat dinner, although you didn’t really have much appetite for it since your late lunch, early dinner feast with Demsey Draft had sated your hunger quite perfectly in every sense.

“I did, the gardens were beautiful, the perfect diversion from the week I’ve had.” You answered.

“I’ve heard news my Lady.” She informed you.

“What news?” You asked.

“There was another moura bride came off the train just today, she’s supposed to be at the ball tomorrow.” She informed you.

“From the stables?” You asked.

“Yes, came with a very large party, there had to be dozens of people with her, staff of all kinds, she went straight to the Palace of Windsor. Annabelle and Martha saw it since the party came out into the market a little by the station, all of them were loaded up into a few dozen carriages, all of which belonged the Palace of Windsor, they took up most of the train and most of the cargo, it was a moura train too, they could tell by the way the particular rail cars were decorated on the outside. Annabelle said she could smell the exotic fruits herself, mainly mango, pineapple and papaya.” She told you as you swooned at even the very mention of those exotic fruits.

“Did Annabelle see the bride?” You pressed.

“Aye, a jewel orc, would shame a peacock or any other jewel.” She answered as you blinked in surprise.

“Well color me surprised. I did not think the royal family of elvish and human decent would want a jewel orc. But hopefully they treat her well. I look forward to seeing her again, whoever she might be, there are only five jewel orc brides at the stables, Callellea, Delmalina, Benyana, Adrinelle and Savamelle and thankfully I am friends with all of them, I look forward to seeing whichever one of them came. Can you tell the cook to make a sheet of baklava? I wish to take some to whichever of those girls will be there tomorrow.” You insisted.

“Absolutely, I’ll tell him at once my Lady.” Rose smiled happily and left you again to do as you instructed.

Meanwhile Demsey had made it to his own home and promptly crashed on his bed, his body spent and sore in places he didn’t think could get sore, but he was sated in every sense and very happy and relaxed the way any epic rut would leave anyone.

“Why do you smell like a woman?” Seirge asked as he came to call Demsey down for dinner and sniffed the air deeply, getting that particular scent, which this was only the second time he was smelling it. It was good but peculiar and he couldn’t place his finger on it or explain why it was peculiar.

“Because I was with one hell of a woman.” Demsey murmured, his voice half muffled from his pillows since he was laying face down on his bed, his body was spent, his stomach was full and now all he wanted was the sweet bliss of sleep.

“Sowing more wild oats are you?” Seirge prodded.

“Something like that, don’t...don’t tell anyone.” Demsey pleaded.

“You also smell like you’ve eaten already.” Seirge probed as he picked up scents of food too.

“Because I have, I’ve had my fill for tonight, all I want is sleep.” Demsey insisted as he barely pulled his blankets down on the other side of the bed and rolled over and tried to tiredly take his own clothes off that you had helped redress him in, such a sweet, thoughtful thing too. It had actually almost started another round, trying to dress each other but it was an act that was surprisingly intimate yet sentimental too.

“So does this woman have a name?” Seirge asked as Demsey cracked an eye open fixed his brother with a look.

“Does it matter?” Demsey returned because even if Miss Audra Draft worked in a whorehouse, he was feeling particularly possessive at the moment and not wanting to share such a treasure with anyone, let alone his brother.

“I guess it doesn’t, I was just curious.” Seirge shrugged nonchalantly. Even though he could smell her better with every piece of clothing his brother took off, he could find her by scent if he had to.

“Miss Audra Draft, she works at the Red Velvet Rope.”

“Is that why you don’t have any pocket money anymore? Because you’ve been blowing it at the casino?” Seirge instigated.

“Sure.” Demsey chuckled as he undid as much of his clothes as he could before he had to sit up to take it off of himself and once he took off his clothes Seirge then started cackling laughing at all the love bites, claw marks and other evidence on his brother’s body of an intense sexual encounter.

“Whew, nevermind, I can smell all of her on you. Damn, you know I never pegged you for the type to be into moura women, but obviously you had a good time.” Sierge laughed.

“I had the time of my life. Mouras are...they are always the best at whatever they decide to do and she’s...she has no compare.” Demsey praised with a dreamy smile.

“Even to your Countess Audravienne Morrigan?” Seirge pressed.

“...ok, I take it back, there is only one creature above her, and that is the Countess, but the resemblence between the two is uncanny, they even sound similar, which is probably why I prefer Miss Draft to any other except the Countess and that is only because I guess all mouras look the same after the Gold Plague, did you know that the gold that rained down from heaven was actually the gold dust ash of billions of heavenly moura who died in the plague? I had no idea that that is what it was. But Miss Draft was happy to give me a history lesson and even fed me a proper moura feast there, it was some of the best food I’ve ever had in my life, and is why I’m not hungry for dinner cause I’ve already had every appetite except for sleep satisfied today.” Demsey insisted as he pulled on a sleep tunic before he crawled into bed.

“Well next time you go, take me with you, even though I doubt you’d share, I wouldn’t mind at least seeing what you see.” Sierge said as he blew out the candles in his brother’s room so his brother could get some sleep before also throwing on some more wood the fire in the fireplace.

“Uh huh,” Demsey murmured as he fought to hold onto conciousness now that he was in bed before Sierge left him in peace.

The next day you happily gorged yourself on breakfast before you spent most of the day getting your hair washed along with your body and scrubbed, pampered, moisturized and massaged and then perfumed before Richard and Agnes and Jane would be coming to pick you up in the early evening and take you to the ball in their barouche box carriage as your ladies got you ready in your gown that had been dropped off just that morning along with several others, a few of which you couldn’t remember Agnes ordering, or yourself, the ones you couldn’t remember were very clearly more moura in style then the rest but you paid it no mind since the dress you would be wearing tonight was a superb gold gown, close to the Regency style, but clearly had some moura touches which you didn’t remember asking for or ones that Agnes hadn’t asked for either but you were so happy and so excited to see an old friend, you didn’t care. You wanted to look like the perfect balance between moura and English while your thoughts drifted to who exactly had come. You were both hoping yet fearing it was Callellea, you didn’t want her sweet soul anywhere near here, but the others you would still be very happy to see.

However no sooner had you gotten ready than the Morrigans were there early to pick you up as you took a deep stabilizing breath and then went down to see them only to be met with many more trunks that were being brought in while crates of fruit and other foods were delivered to your kitchen.

“What’s all this?” You asked as you gestured to it.

“A gift, apparently the Young Dauphin Ramsey has brought in a moura bride, apparently a good friend of yours from Dorierra, they had tried to deliver it to us at Broadcove but once they learned that you were no longer with us there, it was promptly picked up and all brought here. We hope you have room for it all.” Jane answered as she eyed your new treasures and gifts with delight.

“Well then I must invite you to stay the night tonight then dear Jane to help me unpack it all and inspect everything.” You insisted as she giggled excitedly and nodded in agreement.

“Well we must be off before we run late.” Agnes insisted as she ushered both of you out of the house and into the carriage where Richard was waiting.

“So the Dauphin brought a moura bride from the stables?” You asked Agnes and Richard once inside the carriage as you sat next to Jane.

“Apparently he brought two, will be pitting them against each other for his hand, as if the courting market wasn’t fierce enough.” Agnes answered, because her hopes that Jane might catch his eye after your own betrothal to someone else were being dashed to pieces at the very thought.

“Do we know their names? Because I know every other moura bride at the stables, if she is a close friend that could be helpful and tie us to the royal family.” You mused, knowing that was what would incite them to be a little more honest and forthcoming with you- offering what they clearly wanted.

“They’re long, overly extravagant, barely pronounceable foreign names.” Richard waived off and you bit your lips to keep yourself from arguing with him. You would know as soon as this carriage would get you there but in the meantime you tried to remain patient as the carriage seemed to travel even slower than usual, getting behind other carriages who were all going the same way and whoever was already on their way was taking their own sweet time and it took every ounce of willpower not to get out of the carriage and just run there and beat them there. But you were a lady, a Countess at that, and you had sweet Jane to think about, you couldn’t make this hard on her because the Morrigans had learned early that you had a soft spot for Jane and made a show of pressing that soft spot whenever you displeased them. It was plainly barbaric.

Finally upon arriving at the ball, you finally caught sight of them. Czarina Callellea your best friend in the world and Princess Benyana, another friend, perhaps not as close as Callellea though. You nearly squealed at seeing them as your moura marks lit up like fireworks as theirs did the same as they practically ran to you and even though it broke tradition and rules of decorum, they pulled you into a hug and you practically melted into their arms, all three of you nearly crying all your makeup off at the prospect of being reunited as the three of you hugged tightly before they each kissed your cheeks as you did the same.

“Why are you dressed so English?” They asked as you pulled away to look at each other as they spoke in marinai- the moura mother tongue to you.

“Because the family I married into commanded it.” You answered which made them both scrunch up their noses in disgust.

“I heard from them that both of you are here for one man?” You asked them.

“Yes, a Duke Demsey Voyambi,” they answered and your heart stopped as all air crashed from your lungs as your face fell.

“Is he a bad man?” They asked you worriedly reading your reaction.

“No! No, he’s perfectly fine, kind, funny and friendly and actually a friend of mine, we are at first names, his grandfather protected the king in battle, that’s how the family got their Duchy, and they have a soap business, that’s how the family makes their money, but he’s attached to Lady Whitesale. His sister told me directly and when I asked him in private, he did not deny it, I do not know her though. I don’t know what she looks like. But, are you sure that the Duke sent for you?” You asked.

“No the duke didn’t send for us, the royal family did, they wanted to see more mouras in their gentry, and the Duke is orc but is a purist and therefore only a jewel orc will do in that kind of situation and apparently he isn’t the only orc in gentry here, the offer is the same that you got from your Edward.” They informed you. Your own contract with Edward had been extremely generous but was largely ignored until after his death when the Morrigans were forced to head it or risk losing everything.

“Oh,” you answered as your heart constricted painfully into your chest.

“Well, when you are not trying to seduce the Duke, there are moura clubs here, I have only had a chance to go to one, but I hear the others are amazing.” You answered.

“Oh good,” they blew out a breath of relief before the Duke was announced to have arrived.

“Time to get work I guess.” You bid them, trying to sound cheerful but you could feel nothing but disappointment.

“Did you have your eye on the Duke?” Callellea asked as she took a step in that direction before Benyana clearly didn’t wait for her to go ahead and come over to them before Callellea stepped closer to you again.

“I did, but with him already attached, I withdrew. But if he likes you better than Whitesale, then, more power to you. It’s ok, go, see how handsome he is, because he is very handsome with a nobility of character that will be rarer than the diamonds we are wearing.” You nodded in his general direction before she withdrew and left your side and when they withdrew the Morrigans were on you in an instant, reminding that that would be the only time it would be acceptable for you to break the rules of decorum before you simply marched away from them and towards the punch bowl.

“No sunrise is as beautiful as the ones in your eyes.” Came a masculine purr, in marinai again, near your ear and his voice sent a shiver down your spine and made every hair stand on end, but in a good way.

“Leumeni.” You turned to see your old lover who came to stand beside you, also getting himself some punch.

“Since when do the stables let a male leave?” You asked him, sticking to marinai again, not knowing when you’d get a chance to speak it again.

“Since they offered for us to come and chaperone our sisters since they can not be without those in this country apparently.” He answered.

“If I could hug you I would.” You told him.

“Oh I know, I am fighting not to pick you up off your feet and spin you around, but I was informed of the rules all day.” He rolled his eyes as you smiled sadly in response.

“How come you have never returned my letters?” He asked curiously.

“You wrote to me?” You asked with a confused crown.

“I did, I have been writing to you about once a month ever since you left, checking up on you, but I have never heard back.” He answered.

“But I have been writing to you and the rest of my friends but I have never heard back either. I do not know if the mail system is reliable or not, I have gotten no letters from anyone, not even my parents or my siblings. Once I left the stables all communication has ceased, sometimes the letters come back to me undelivered, other times, they just vanish. And I do not know what happens. I have even tried to hire specific carriers to travel directly, but all they do is take my money but offer no results or vanish completely and I am still left with nothing.” You answered and the more you talked the deeper he frowned.

“Then I will look into it on your behalf. We have been invited here by the royal family. There is no way any moura will ever marry here if they can’t even get a letter home and back.” He insisted before you brought him closer.

“When you and the rest of all who came here get a chance, come to Mirador, that is my residence. I have things for all of you to read since I can not speak of it now.” You implored.

“We will come, tomorrow if you’ll have us.” He offered.

“I have company tonight, make it the day after tomorrow.” You insisted.

“Absolutely, we will be there.” Leumeni insisted before he bowed and retreated again.

“Do forgive me for overhearing Countess…” Dauphin Ramsey began as he sidled up to you, continuing to speak in marinai.

“Oh, your Grace, I apologize, I shouldn’t be talking about my personal affairs at a time such a this and I did not realize that anyone else not from Dorierra would be speaking marinai.” You immediately apologized as you curtsied in place.

“Oh please, do not apologize. You should be able to speak any language you wish. You must not worry, very few know marinai here in England, but my mother has taught it to me as my mother tongue as well, English is so very difficult to speak, much less read or write and you speak it so beautifully and the marinai accent only makes the most humble language sound ethereal. It seems my cousins have not done their homework and research before inviting more mouras here without hearing from the last moura to grace the court about how she is doing and getting along. To hear of such troubles with something as simple yet important as your own private letters to your parents going astray, especially in our royal mail system, is unacceptable, I will have the matter looked into and investigated as soon as possible. You did the right thing by coming forward and telling the truth of the matter, to a trusted friend at that and my only apologies are that I overheard it but it concerns every moura on English soil. And if there is anything else for you that I may do, please tell me. I must apologize for not coming to you sooner, I was trying to respect your mourning period.” Ramsey reassured you as you blinked in surprise.

“Sir, I fear what repercussions may happen if you do though.” You murmured with an apprehensive look.

“My dear Countess, no you must never fear anyone ever. You are a royal moura, you technically outrank me, I believe your former rank of Sultana should still hold true and as such that puts you on even ground with the Queen herself. You have more royal blood running through those veins than all of the royal family put together. We mouras are still in our golden age. The Gold Plague did nothing but made the survivors more precious and valuable than ever. While this matter is sorted out, please, when we won’t be seeing each other at balls, won’t you consider joining me at the Midnight Peacock? They dance every moura dance at the stables and we’ve even invented our own. You would be the bell of the ball even if you showed up in burlap.” He offered.

“Uh, well, I don’t know if that will be permitted your Grace.” You slowly answered.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because of this.” You said as you pulled out the list, the one that Agnes and Richard had dictated to Jane to write down of suitors to avoid where his name was at the very top and handed it to him.

“Who gave you such a list?” Ramsey demanded as he scowled deeply.

“It was dictated to me by Count and Countess Morrigan, they forced their sweet and innocent daughter Jane to write it down faithfully.” You answered honestly.

“Every moura in the country is on this list.” Ramsey realized before his face changed to smug understanding.

“Well Sultana, is it alright if I address you as such?” He asked.

“Please, just Miss Audravienne if you must be formal, Audra if you wish to be friends.” You suggested as that seemed to delight him.

“I will also look into this. I understand that you also had a contract between the Morrigans and yourself and the stables, would you mind if I also looked into that, because I believe all three are related.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Well, I do not wish you to worry about it, but I would simply like for your permission to look into these personal matters, us mouras must stick together, birds of feathers flocking together am I right?” He pressed and you smiled in relief.

“Then you have my permission.” You decided.

“Then just call me Ramsey, my dear friend Audra.” He insisted as he took your hand and kissed it charmingly.

“If you are to take that, you might as well have the other one.” You insisted as you pulled the other one from your large clutch.

“Give me just a moment please to pass these onto my best man and I will return to you in just a moment my dear Audra and when I return, if I may be so bold as to claim the first two dances.” He cooed before he left, and while you did feel some guilt for using his Grace to deal with your problems with the Morrigans, you had always been suspicious of them for creating some kind of unseen barrier, as you also wondered if your own staff that followed you from Broadcove also had a hand in it. But having the cousin of the royal family look into the matter may be just as good as royal intervention you supposed since you could no longer count on the stables to do so any more than they already had.

Meanwhile Demsey and his brothers had almost frozen in place to see two jewel orc moura practically strut up to them. They had never seen jewel orcs before and to see them in person, was an experience to say the least.

“Which one of you is Duke Demsey Voyambi?” Benyana asked before Demsey’s brothers pointed to him.

“We were told by the royal family to meet your family in particular. It’s so wonderful to see orcs take our rightful place in high society. Sadly this court is late, in other courts in Europa, orcs take up over half of all the gentry, yet all we see is what? Three, maybe four orc families here?” Benyana revealed as she looked around, frowning at what she saw before she turned her attention back to Demsey and his family and smiled again at them, her prettiest, most charming smile at that.

“It is quite an imbalance.” Demsey nodded in agreement.

“So won’t you take a turn on the dance floor with me, your Grace? I have been practicing the dance steps for the last two weeks. Even on the train here I practiced. I want to see if it was worth it.” Callellea began, with a direct and hopefully look to Demsey before Benyana could get her hooks into Demsey herself.

“Of course.” Demsey readily agreed as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor while his brother Sierge asked Benyana to dance.

“I have heard a rumor about you already.” Callellea murmured to Demsey as she took his arm as they made their way through the crowd and pulled his arm to her side tightly to pull his ear to her.

“You have?” Demsey asked as he couldn’t help but grimace slightly.

“Sultana Audravienne informed me that you have an attachment to a Lady Whitesale?” She pressed.

“Ah. I see. That is actually not true. My sister Kiera insisted that I did in an effort to keep Countess Agnes Morrigan from trying to play matchmaker with me, but when Audra asked me about it, I didn’t want to embarrass my sister by contradicting her, and I should have had more honor and told Audra the truth, I barely tolerate Lady Kate Whitesale because she’s disingenuous.” Demsey confessed.

“Well then you should correct that misunderstanding before I fear it will be too late.” Callellea warned with a pleading look.

“What do you mean too late?” Demsey asked as he then turned and started leading Callellea to the side of the space that wasn’t crammed full of people.

“Then you must declare it to her and make the truth known, because she feels the former is true. Princess Benyana and I were invited here to try to court you, since it is apparently known that you will only take an orc for a wife but that you at least give the Sultana enough attention that you are deemed a distraction at least or a threat at most by her other pursuer. We were sent to try to seduce you away from her so that someone within the royal family may have the freedom to pursue her without you distracting her. When we told Audra of this she looked absolutely gutted and heartbroken because she had her eye on you. But her own honor forbade her from pursuing you and now I fear that her own fear of the royal family will not permit her from expressing it either. If you do not return the attraction then by all means, let her be pursued by others, but if you share and return her feelings, then by all means, say something, do something. Otherwise she will be snatched up before the end of the evening and the vicious cycle begins anew.” Callelea implored him as he stared at her in surprise.

“Do you have any care for her? Do you have any partiality or attraction whatsoever towards Sultana Audravienne?” Callellea pressed.

“I do.” Demsey insisted.

“I know we are strangers but she told me that you are of noble character, one that we would have a hard time finding a comparison to in this court. Is that true?” Callellea pressed.

“If Audra said such things, then I have no choice but to do my utmost to live up to such high praise.” Desmey answered as his own affection for you grew as his smile turned bashful.

“Then you should have my confidence. Do not repeat this or let on that you know- but she suffered greatly under the Morrigan’s roof. She suffered unspeakable horrors. So much so that she was not allowed back to the stables, despite everyone in the stables contesting it. But she had no choice but to sign a contract that she would not return to them unless her very life was in danger, I only know this because I broke into the stable master offices and found the contracts and read them myself. But she is forbidden from talking about it because she signed it. She can’t go home and she is left to fend for herself when in a society, women have no voice or autonomy, it leaves her at the mercy of the men around her and the men around her since she has left have done nothing but bring her harm. And it is clear that the Morrigans are still treating her badly, despite the contracts that they would not. I saw the way they were practically breathing down her throat the moment I left her side. Is there anything you can do to help her?” Callellea implored.

“I have asked but she won’t give me a direction.” Demsey confessed as his heart once again reached out to you.

“Then ask again, ask every time you see her, be sincere and genuine, do not give up. Gain her trust and respect. She has spent her whole life preparing for a life that did nothing but hurt her. Now she is free to at least marry who she wants, she deserves to marry for love and she deserves for someone to treat her like the treasured angel she is, if you are lucky enough to catch her eye and gain her friendship. Then prove you are worthy of it and don’t fall for this trick.” She urged as Demsey looked away from her and saw that the Dauphin was walking away from you, with several pages in his hands as he recognized the list in them.

“I will do all I can, in the meantime, if you could just dance one dance with my brother Tzane, I would be most appreciative, and do not worry, Tzane wouldn’t hurt a mosquito that was sucking the blood from him.” Demsey requested.

“Thank you. Now go to her.” Callellea urged as Demsey realized this must be the same Callellea who wrote that note to you.

“Oh, Voyambi, tell me, do you know anything about this?” Ramsey asked as Demsey crossed paths with him first on his way to you.

“Yes I do. Two weeks ago, my sisters and I were out to tea at Worthingtons we all overheard Countess Agnes dictate both of these lists to Sultana Audravienne, Jane had no choice but to write them down. Agnes also heavily criticized the Sultana every time she took a bite of food or a drink of tea, and forbade her from putting cream or sugar in her tea, or from eating any sweets whatsoever. And then that very same day, they went out to dinner at the Savoy where they were joined by Count Richard Morrigan who repeated the same direction. Even though the Sultana lives at Mirador, the Morrigans seem to continue to try to control every breath she takes.” Demsey ventured, enacting his own vengeance on your behalf.

“Had you not gotten it from her, I was going to be making your Grace aware of it, because I could cleary tell that the Morrigans planned on excluding and alienating half of the court,” Demsey added.

“Because you’re a good man, in order to protect the Sultana Audravienne, might we agree that you did? So that would take any blame off of her when this is investigated?” Ramsey asked.

“You may, I would happily shoulder that.” Demsey immediately agreed.

“Good man, have you met the Princess and the Czarina yet?” Ramsey asked.

“Yes, they’re both exquisite, as all mouras are but jewel orcs are clearly a class of their own. Their majesties were wise in inviting jewel orcs into the realm. It will only strengthen the court, diversify it before it can be solidified and bolstered, in fact I was just on my way to the Sultana to ask for her opinion and advice, since surely she must know them better than anyone else here.” Demsey praised, knowing that’s what Ramsey wanted to hear because out of everyone in the royal family, Dauphin Ramsey was the only one unmarried, and it didn’t take but a half wit to know who exactly had brought the jewel orcs in, it left no doubt in Demsey’s mind that it was Ramsey’s idea, but if Ramsey’s reputation was true, he would ruin you the moment another moura prettier than you could be brought up in the stables and he would no doubt “trade up” and Demsey felt he needed to protect you from that.

“I agree, enjoy them tonight, I would hate to see either of them leave without so much as a betrothal, but alas we may only take one wife.” Ramsey shrugged before he left, happy and practically tickled that Demsey corroborated the story as already quite the case was building up against the Morrigans.

“Sultana Audravienne,” Demsey called to you before a look of complete relief and happiness washed over your face at seeing him again while your moura marks practically glittered in delight, despite your own heart breaking after overhearing the Duke’s conversation with the Dauphin.

“Duke Demsey.” You greeted as you both curtsied in place since that was as “formally informal” you could be in this setting.

“I really need to talk to you,” Demsey said as he came to stand as close to you as society would allow, but lowered his voice so that no one would hopefully overhear the conversation.

“About the Princess or about the Czarina? Both are exquisite, it’s actually Princess Benyana that has the most to offer you, her brothers make most of the soap in the stables, I’m sure if you courted her, you would be able to get the recipe, or especially if you wed her- it could be written in the contract with the stables that you could take it, make it and sell it for your gain as well as hers since upon marring a bride from the stables, proof of income and ability to care for her, even in the event of your death, are a requirement, which I’m sure will be easy for you to establish. Since the royal family invited them here, they would support you in that request, I can’t imagine how many hundreds of thousands of pounds you would make if you did. I know I would buy it by the case.” You informed him as you tried to put on a brave smile but couldn’t look him in the eye because if you did the tears that were rimming your eyes would fall and looking down into your own glass and trying to furiously blink them away just as Ramsey came back to your side.

“Buy cases of what my dear Audra?” Ramsey asked as it was Demsey’s heart that stopped as it felt like each one of those words in that sickeningly romantic cooing tone from Ramsey’s mouth was a stab into his being as anxiety began to eat at him as fear that he was already too late frayed his nerves.

“Oh I was telling the excellent Duke Voyambi that if he were to court Princess Benyana, he had the most to gain from her besides her exquisite beauty that has no equal, or talents that set a standard of perfection that even I can’t live up to, also since it is her brothers that make most of the soaps of every variety under the sun, moon and stars, and that if there would be a courting between the two, he might ask for the recipes to make them to sell so that England would have a proper moura soap, that anyone who wanted to buy a piece of luxury could own. I know of so many mouras who would buy anything even remotely similar since our moura skin can be so delicate and sensitive. Surely he could make a fortune if he did so and thus support our great empire through his own fair and just taxes your Grace. But then again it is the Czarina Callellea’s brothers who make some of the best food in all of the moura stables and are proficient in all the moura court styles of cuisine and can blend them all together seamlessly. Surely a cookbook penned by her brothers would be worth it’s weight in platinum. Even as large as I’m sure it would be. Moura food is almost impossible to find outside of the stables and I mourn the absence of a good moura restaurant here. I have tried to give my own cooks some recipes from dishes from my own court that have been passed down through my own family but they are limited in what ingredients are available here and they don’t have the same culinary training that moura chefs do. And I long for a taste of home.” You explained as Demsey wanted to scream in protest because you were giving Ramsey all the ammunition he needed to force this issue on him but at the same time he could see you were clearly just trying to support him and do what was best for him and his family but at this point, he could care less about business, you were suddenly more important to him than selling another stupid bar of soap, he needed to think quickly and try to say something if only to tip you off to the truth.

“Then it would be better for his Grace to court the Czarina since your Grace’s appetites for all things moura are practically insatiable, perhaps her brothers can cook up something that will finally sate your appetites since it’s clear that they came with their sisters.” Demsey suggested to the Dauphin but you couldn’t help but secretly agree. Yalin had warned you about her son, how he was insatiable and how he was on a search for the perfect moura mate who would be both perfectly moura yet able to also be perfectly English and told you which days her sons frequented both the Red Velvet Rope and the Midnight Peacock so that you would not go on the same nights as him.

“Perhaps, in that case I must insist that both the Sultana and your family must come for such a feast.” Ramsey invited. Not realizing what Demsey was really getting at.

“It would bring us great honor your Grace, in the meantime, might I have the first two dances with Sultana Audravienne?” Demsey asked.

“I believe I have already claimed them.” Ramsey argued smugly.

“The Dauphin has claimed the first two dances but you Duke Demsey, may claim the two after that if you are not already engaged.” You offered before you offered your dance card for him to sign on as he readily did.

Then the music started not long after as the Dauphin then led you to the dancefloor as you did your best to remember the steps as the Dauphin did nothing but flatter you and all moura gifts which you apparently possessed upon him just looking at you, all in marinai the whole time as you couldn’t help but notice Agnes’ scowl at you that you were dancing with the Dauphin and every time you saw her gaze you looked away, feeling her gaze strike at you and feared for Jane and what Jane would suffer because of your dancing with the Dauphin. You were ever so grateful when it was Demsey’s turn to dance with you.

“Audra, please, I really need to speak with you.” Demsey insisted.

“I’m so sorry your Grace, I’m so parched from dancing with the Dauphin, might we get some punch?” You suggested a little louder for Ramsey’s benefit before Demsey smiled in relief and happily led you away from the dancefloor as the two of you got punch and then slipped through the crowds, both of you weaving through like a thread through a tapestry until finally you found a mostly abandoned gallery of art as you both made a show of staring at all the art.

“So what would you like to say?” You murmured quietly.

“My sister lied to you a couple of weeks ago and instead of exposing the truth and potentially damaging her reputation, I didn’t say anything, and even when you asked me privately, I did not confess and I’m sorry. But there is no attachment between Lady Whitesale and I, I can barely stand her in truth. Kiera was simply saying that to protect me from the Countess Agnes Morrigan, but also at the time I didn’t want you to get the impression that your own dowry changed my mind on the matter. I was hoping to find a moment between then and now to talk to you but my own affairs with business have had me completely swamped and I have not had a moment of peace. While the Czarina and the Princess are lovely, I still prefer you to them, I...I have a partiality to you and I have been drawn to you since the moment we shared a cabin on the train those couple of weeks ago. And while I want nothing more than our own friendship to grow stronger, I also want to declare…” Demsey began before you were interrupted.

“Duke Voyambi, this is where you’ve taken my dearest Audra, I have wonderful news, the Czarina and the Princess would both like to invite you to stay at the royal palace of Windsor while they are here, they’ve been looking all over for you trying to tell you. I mentioned your desire to eat moura foods and the Czarina’s brothers jumped at the chance and have already left to prepare it for you themselves while the Princess’ brothers also have insisted on making you new soaps and beauty treatments, in fact they’ve insisted on going to your residence to sample what water is available there so that the soaps may be custom tailored just for you and what you need, they were most insistent.” Dauphin interrupted as he hurriedly walked into the room and over to you to steal you away as he took your arm and wrapped it around his own pullying you away from the Duke which you begrudgingly allowed.

“Oh, that’s very kind, but they just dropped off gifts at my residence and I have yet to even look at them and I was supposed to be inviting Countess Jane Morrigan over tonight to help me.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“Oh but even I must insist, even my sister the Dauphine Charlotte is also going to be staying, it seems every moura within the royal family will be coming, and you, the Czarina and the Princess will be the special guests, really even if your own guest is to be Countess Jane Morrigan, I was told by the Queen herself that I was not to take a ‘no’ for an answer and do whatever it was within my power to convince you to say yes.” The Dauphin insisted.

“Then I will agree upon two conditions.” You decided.

“Anything.” The Dauphin readily answered.

“That I may go home and pack myself, for there are certain things I wish to show the Czarina and the Princess,” you began.

“Of course, even if you were to compile a list, I’ll have my best people on it and your things will be at the house of Windsor by the end of the party.” Ramsey insisted.

“That’s very generous but the items I have in mind are actually hidden away, in a place I do not want it’s location disclosed, because they are very precious and sentimental items, I insist on doing it myself, and I promise I shall only be a moment, I shall leave early from the party tonight and then once I have what I need, I shall arrive at Windsor Palace as soon as I can.” You reassured him.

“So what is your second condition then?” Ramsey asked.

“For the Voyambi family to join as well.” You suggested in English before switching to marinai.

“How else is the excellent Duke ever supposed to side on a moura wife after just one dance when he has to share her with a whole ballroom of people? Really it would open his eyes to see what he would be getting into and who knows, his tastes might surprise us but in order to remain subtle, I should think the whole family should be invited, especially since he holds his sister’s opinions in such high regard, that way the mouras will have a chance to charm his parents and the rest of his family as well, and might as well invite Jane Morrigan too, no need for her to be involved directly with your investigation, she is still a sweet innocent young thing, let her parents pay for their own sins without inflicting any more upon her.” You suggested sweetly.

“Clever girl.” Ramsey praised in English.

“It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive,” you smiled but the look in your eyes thrilled Ramsey but Demsey knew better, with the revelation that Callellea disclosed to him. He knew it was probably only because of your wits that you survived even this long.

“Well upon the insistence of the Sultana that your family also be included and gave a very convincing argument, so let us not disappoint her, I will go with you to inform your parents so that they may send for your family’s things directly, and you’ll be staying at the Windsor Palace as well.” He insisted before the three of you went, as you took the Dauphin’s arm but reached behind you to grasp Demsey’s hand and give him meaningful look over your shoulder before you reluctantly withdrew from him as more people came into the gallery.

Once the Voyambi’s were informed you had the Dauphin go with you to the Morrigans to invite Jane to come with you as your personal friend to the Palace of Windsor with you of which Richard and Agnes were thrilled and happy to indulge you.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 6 #Oh now we are getting to the really good stuff #this is going to be so fun #regency era orc period drama #orcs #orc love story #moura

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soranihimawari · 4 years

Text

sketchbook & coffees

this is a part of a time stamp draft i had in my drafts for a while. after several revisions, i opted to continue using asahi as an inspiration behind this piece.

summary: yn is an artist. her club project for the annual ‘local artist fall soiree’ is sketches of the young and old in miyagi. when the model the club had lined up for the month cancels, she asks her classmate, azumane to “borrow” his hands for the project.

warnings: anxiety/anxiety attacks, how to cope when having one in public/public setting (let me know if my tw tag is operating please)

genre: fluff with healing/romantic comedy at the end (classmates to lovers?)

rating: pg-15+ (for the anxiety scenes)// A.A.F [azumane asahi fluff]

[20:45]

the pencil scratches against the rough page delicately tracing the outline of the shadows of your lover’s hand. somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint sounds of the city coming to life for the first time since the sun has set. the neon lights of the corner shops in front of the local bogedas in roppengi reflect the golden flecks on your eyes. you enjoy the company of the man sitting across from you, his silent stare causes you to empathize with him and as a show of gratitude you pause your drawing of his hands for a moment and smile. he asks if he can move his hands now, to which you nod. his cherrywood dyed hair is brushed to one side, only tied by a thin pink elastic you leant him earlier that day in class. you had slipped him a note in his locker right as classes were ending, knowing he had practice for the volleyball club later. you, whose handwriting he could never forget for peer review essays, asked if he would mind getting coffee with you one day when he was free. you mentioned you had an art project for your club due that month and the model they were going to try to invite for said project had backed out (due to personal reasons); although you weren’t sure why he seemed more flustered, you dismissed it as being nervous since most thought the art club drew semi-nudes, but that wasn’t the case. you explained your senior project was sketching different body parts (clothed or not was at the level of the model’s comfort) of both the old and the young. you had a sketch for every part you needed except for the hands. hence why you suggested the coffeeshop down the street from your mother’s job. with the date and time set, you are now sitting across the table with the ace of your school’s volleyball club.

he offered to pay for the coffees when you had arrived to the cafe, but you insisted on paying him back with tickets for the exhibition as well as a pack of hair ties for his time. what you chose to ignore was the way his friends (and teammates) would tease the tall lad about the way you made his heart soar whenever you were within a three foot radius. he always wanted to play his best for himself, yet he couldn’t help to recall all the times you tried to encourage him after he was completely shut out from date tech the season prior. you knelt down in front of his desk and rested your chin on his desk before spewing some words of advice: “a scientist never repeats the same experiment twice if the results are the same, azumane.” you knew of his anxieties about rejoining the club after the spunky first years showed up outside to corner him and ask if he still wanted to rejoin. you gave him an encouraging thumbs up when he saw you walking down the hall with a broad grin, how could he say no to them?

as you were putting the finishing notes on the gesture drawing of his hands, you heard him inhale sharply. you glance up quickly, not sure if he was exhibiting any other signs of a panic attack, but you wrapped your hand around his palm for stability. even seated down as you were, you realize how erratic his hand had begun to shake from staying in one position for so long. he began to slowly hyperventilate as the espresso machine went off and the night crowd began trickling into the small shop. attacks, especially for him, were far and inbetween, and you recall the first time you helped him through one:

you were in the science lab stock room and the door closed on you both. he began to get this panicked look in his eyes; it was not an easy expression to forget. unaware of how to handle the situation properly back then, you tell your classmate to close his eyes as you lifted one of his hands by his wrist and placed it near your neck pulse point. you were a lot more calmer then, thus instructing him to breath in and out with every thump his fingers felt.

“how do you know this will work yn?” azumane said. his voice was rattled with fear and his eyes looked every which way but down at you. the closeness of it all was what got to him.

“i know it’s a lot to handle right now, but do your best and trust me,” you said. you were stern in your disposition and once he took you up on your advice, you both rode through his attack together. your lips grazed his wrist before asking him if he knew anyone who could help him through an attack. to be quite frank, after you two exited the room, you asked to speak with the teacher after class. when you explain your thoughts about how worried you were for him, the teacher suggested in the next staff meeting to have at least one member (including yourself) in all of azumane’s classes the following year considering what had transpired in her lab supply room. you were lucky the school staff cared about their students’ well being and had implemented a ‘buddy’ system for those who experienced similar issues. you don’t let asahi know about this set up and you both were elated to know you were in the same class again for senior year.

more often than he would like to admit, he thought about that day, because it was the day he changed your contact info in his phone to ‘my wisest yn-chan’. although, one practice early on in the season, noya noticed his friend’s phone going off right as practice was wrapping up and that was the day when the rest of the crows got their ace to admit how he truly felt about the “wise yn-chan”.

you gave his hand a firm squeeze as if to say, ‘i’m here for you. calm yourself, just for me, please.’

“asahi, it’s all right,” your voice is like finely spun sugar to him. “focus on my voice and breathe with me this time, ok?”

you don’t know the power you hold over his heart just yet, but you had an idea once he began to breathe in rhythm with you. his knuckles which had turned white when you held his free hand, began to relax more once you helped him through the worse of it.

“i-i’m sorry,” his voice was small. he was as gentle as they come, but he was still the frightened boy from your second year science class. truthfully, he didn’t want to have an attack when he was having such a lovely afternoon with you; all he really wanted to do was enjoy some time with you ever since you explained why you wanted to meet at the cafe. now that he was a bit embarrassed by his handling of his own attack because it had been so long between his last anxiety attack, yet he thanked whatever gods were nearby for having you there with him.

“don’t worry about it,” you said. then a coy smile carved its way across your features. you realized he was becoming more flustered, so you release his hand from yours. you ask several follow up questions to him after the last remaining bits of the attack subsided and as you talk through him, you noticed how much more calmer your voice makes him. if you thought he didn’t have a crush you prior to today, you were proven wrong the moment he used both of his hands to reach for yours before you packed away your things. he muttered a “p-please don’t go just yet,” but when you studied the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his eyes telegraphed his plea of ‘i might have another one when you’re gone and i’m still not used to handling one by myself yet.’

the action alone startled you at first, granted you have known asahi since second year (through walking the same route with him home from school prior to the science lab incident), but this was the fifth time you helped him through an assortment of anxiety ridden attacks (and you didn’t mind it at all since he was the only one of the third years who didn’t share a class with either the captain or vice-captain that year). you tell him to close his eyes as his breathing returned to normal again and when a familiar tune came on the playlist for the cafe, you started to hum the opening bars. you weren’t a hero perse, but you were pretty damn close especially for the classmate sitting across from you. when you feel his grip relax, you don’t dare to let either of his hands return to his side of the table.

roughly twenty minutes later, you and asahi roam the streets of roppengi heading back to the train platform headed for the miyagi stops. you still hold his hand, wondering how long would it take for him to realize you had felt the same about him since the start of the semester. asahi walks you to your father’s house a few blocks away from his when you return back to the safety of your hometown.

“azumane,” your voice is resilient in it’s unwavering support. the gentle giant had begun to turn around mentioning he’d see you the day of the art festival (you had planned on going together originally, but that changed as soon as you teased him for labeling himself as your date. you mentioned you liked the color of strawberry ice cream since his blush reminded you of it in the fluorescent light inside the train).

“hmm?” he asks, taking his hands out of his jacket pocket. you dropped your school bag on the porch before you pulled him into a hug.

“ack!” he exclaims right as he felt your arms wrap around him with your face turning to one side against his torso. he chuckled nervously before hugging you back; he bent down slightly and rested one of his cheeks atop your head. your shoulder length hair danced in the nightly breeze against the nape of your neck.

“i’ll always be here for you; i believe in you doing your best,” you say suddenly thus causing your soon-to-be-boyfriend(?)/crush to nod. “now come on, get yourself home and i’ll see you next friday at six.”

you release him from your embrace, backing away slowly to create some space between you two, and with what found courage he had stored in him, azumane extends his hand to grip your shoulder lightly. it was a slight warning before you shut your eyes quickly blinking as you felt his breath tickle the side of your face. whatever he whispered to you made you more flustered than you already were. he left soon thereafter with the widest grin.

***

“woah woah woah,” noya said. the libero casually glanced up and down at his best friend who was dressed in business casual clothes after the team caught wind of their ace having a date on a friday night. azumane decided to wear navy slacks and a dress shirt with a belt and his hair was left down (noya’s idea). the ace knew his friends from the club would help him give some encouraging words of wisdom about fashion sense and style, but since he wanted to impress you a little, he wanted to stop by the gym where you had agreed to meet up prior to you arriving on campus.

“noya,” azumane began. he breathed a sigh of exasperation. “do you think this is too much?”

“you’re going to an exhibit by the art club, right?” sugawara inquires, walking around his friend before said friend gave him an approving nod. “you look fine.”

low whistles were heard from tanaka as well all the while the first years along with the single-second year bachelors just laughed and made a few kissing noises up until both sawamura and ennoshita told them to quit it.

on the other hand, none of the boys, with the exception of their managers noticed you in the doorway of their gym. you chose to wear a form-fitting azure cocktail dress with peep toe heels. your dress had pockets, so you had a pair of flats tucked away there. you opted to wear your hair in a messy side braid and all talking ceased as soon as your shoes made contact with the gym floor.

“holy crap,” kazuhita whispered before he elbowed ennoshita who then turned red in the face. you walked a little taller that day and the quieter the team got, the more the nerves came back to asahi’s mind. the first years as a whole were frozen for a second suddenly blushing like mad.

“literal goddess!” tanaka said nearly crying as you winked at him and noya. to be fair, they almost passed out. sugawara and daichi suddenly froze up finding various details around the gym suddenly very interesting so they weren’t caught staring at you. honestly, what else would you expect from the crows of karasuno?

“stop making fun of me, guys. i just want tonight to go smoothly,” asahi’s voice said. there was a hush over the gym and judging by hiw quiet his usually talkative teammates were being, he got more nervous about the date he had with you.

“wait, why is no one talking?” he asked, after re-fixing the feather shaped cuff link on his shirt. you were standing a few paces behind him, pondering if the ace knew just how effortlessly handsome he was.

“probably because they saw me walk by,” your voice had a lilt of laughter in it. what asahi imagined you would wear versus what you were wearing in real time, clearly outweighed his imagination tenfold. the dress hugged you in all the right places causing you to spin around, slowly, just for him. who knew you had that figure tucked away underneath the girls uniform was beyond the members of the team. as you complete your semi-spin, you walk up toward asahi with an amused expression meeting his flirtatious stare (the rest of his face telegraphed a slight case of nervousness, but he had his brain keep his eyes trained solely on your movements. probably didn’t help he was restraining himself from asking you to skip the soiree because he’s be far too invested in leaving you breathless).

“you clean up well,” you tease, poking his chest. you laugh at how his feigns surprise before leaning down and whispering his reply.

“so do you,” asahi’s voice is dangerously low. far lower than what you’re used to hearing in class.then again, it was mostly due to you showing up in that dress. she’s really pretty. is this really y/n-san? hold on, is that a new lipstick color?

“ready to get out of here with me?” you ask, extending your hand out for him, which he gladly takes.

he leads you out of the gym, but before you cross over the threshold of the gym, you say over your shoulder: “don’t worry guys! i promise i’ll have him home in time for morning practice!”

“you better!” sugawara yelled before he noticed you laughing at how quickly asahi’s hand held yours a little tighter.

before the evening’s event draws to a close, you ask one of the wait staff to take a photo of you and your ‘friend.’ you stand side by side and before the shutter closes, you give him a peck on the side of his face leaving an imprint of your strawberry pink painted lips. it was the best image you have of you two together from the local artist fall soiree mostly because of how wide the ace actually smiled.

--end--

#sketches and coffee #asahi x artist!reader #tw: anxiety & anxiety attacks #reader chan is one of three people who can help the gentle ace through an attack #haikyuu!!#haikyu!! fiction #edited for your pleasure #©himawaripapers

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chubbyooo · 5 years

Text

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 51 - Dathomir

back with the writings sorry for the short break had to focus up on some drafting

Zash tells Terri she has a plan and they set off for a far off planet

Terri sat alone in the cockpit of the ship it had been about a week since Zash told her about Lusari and she was slowly getting better. She hadn’t cried today so that was a plus she had begun to realise this is what Lusari wanted so she wouldn’t be helping anyone by moping around. Terri had hardly spoken to Zash during the week she had been busy meditating, apparently she was trying to find a way to ‘enhance her own power’ whatever that meant. Terri had been looking up the commander a bit during the week she thought it’d help her be ready in case they encounter her again. She’d found very little about her before the sith academy and from there it was just one cruel story after another, sure enough the story about the jedi apprentice was true. She had admittedly saved the galaxy but it seemed like the commander had selfish intentions in mind, Terri didn’t know what to think of her except she was a dangerous enemy, she hoped Yavin was the last she would see of her.

She had been sitting there for a few hours procrastinating when suddenly Zash sat down next to her with a smile on her face “Terri I know where to go” Terri’s eyes widened she had been meditating for a week Terri had expected it to take a couple more she wasn’t ready to start doing tings again.

Terri stammered “oh um ok where are we going” Zash opened up a star map and began to trace it with her finger

soon she stopped on a planet “here it is Dathomir, only planet that fit the landscape I saw” Terri nodded and begun plotting the coordinates noting how close it was to Yavin she hoped the commander wasn’t still around

Terri frowned “fit the landscape? um what do you mean?” Zash seemed to break out of a trance when Terri asked

Zash frowned “uh well I saw the landscape while I was...” she trailed off “in a vision while I was meditating yes” that was a little odd but it least explained all the meditation

Terri began to set the ship up for hyperspace “so um this planet has the answer to enhancing your power?” the star lines lengthened as the ship sped into hyperspace

Zash shrugged “not exactly it might be there it might not the vision wasn’t clear” of course visions were always vague in the stories too “worth a shot though right? and it’s not just my power Terri it can be yours too you have great potential” Terri was surprised she’d never thought of enhancing her own power

Terri looked away “oh I dunno I’m not that powerful it’d kinda be a waste” she’d just had charged moments she wasn’t actually powerful right.

Zash put a hand on Terri’s shoulder “now Terr you’re a lot more powerful than you give yourself credit and even so we’re working together in this it’d be rude not to offer” Terri did feel a small amount of pride as Zash talked maybe Terri wasn’t so bad

Terri stammered “t-thanks but I’m n-not sure I’m proper force user material it’s fine” Zash sighed giving her an exasperated look

Zash gave a smile “hey come on Terri believe in yourself a bit more Lusari certainly did and I do too” Terri winced at the mention of her name Lusari had believed in her all the time “we wouldn’t want to let her down after everything” Terri took a deep breath Zash was right Lusari had sacrificed herself for this the least she could do is take the gift.

Terri sighed “alright sorry I’m just very nervous you know?” Zash nodded smiling broadly, she was glad Zash was so understanding of her situation

later...

Terri brought the ship down into Dathomir’s atmosphere, the planet was a mix of deep reds and swirling greens it was unlike any planet she had ever seen before. She had been told to cruise a bit above the surface to see if they could find any sign of civilisation, it seemed like Zash had no more information than it was on this planet which was less than reassuring. She could see large thorny trees tangling up into what looked like a pretty dangerous woodland, the mountains stretched up into the sky with a strange red hue. There was a strange green mist that seemed to emanate from the ground layering the planet, the animals they managed to spot seemed dangerous and savage with large sets of teeth. Zash seemed to think what they were looking for wasn’t in the swamp at least not in the heart of it, the swamp itself seemed to stretch for miles although certain sections looked like they had been destroyed. Soon Terri spotted what seemed like at least the ruins of a village either way it was a good place to start.

They made their way out of the ship and were instantly met with the strong stench of the wasteland around them.

Zash frowned “the vision never mentioned the stench this place gave off” Terri held a hand over her nose she hoped it was just where they landed. They began to make their way towards the huts they had spotted, on the way Terri noticed what looked like half buried skulls littering the ground causing her to nearly trip over a few. As well as this the plants here seemed less developed she had a hunch some fort of conflict took place here

She shuffled up to Zash hoping to look smart “um I think maybe there was a battle here” Zash nodding weirdly smiling

Zash raised her eyebrow “very good Terri I was wondering if you would pick up on it” oh it was a test and she’d passed yay “the bones are a big giveaway showing it wasn’t exactly recent but the general landscape shows signs of conflict, notice the scorch marks in a slashing motion” Terri hadn’t picked upon those was this sith or jedi related?

Terri looked away “do you think that will affect if this power thing is here?” The green mist Terri had noticed earlier was much clearer here and she could clearly see them coming from cracks in the ground, although they did seem to close up as it went down.

Zash considered Terri’s question “if those who know the secrets are unfortunately deceased then I hope they wrote this stuff down” Zash seemed to half chuckle half be very serious, Terri hoped so too whoever these people were they seemed powerful. “still I have a hunch that’s not the case, you can sense the powerful force energy around us can’t you?” Terri hadn’t really focussed on it but now that Zash mentioned it she could sense it all around her but mostly from below her.

Terri nodded “I can what do you think it is?” Zash gave her a smile as she strode forward

“I imagine it’s something natural in the planets structure or ecosystem that makes the force energy this potent” Terri nodded she had no idea what that meant but it sounded right.

Soon they had arrived at the village or what was left of it, now closer it was clear it was a part of whatever conflict took place here and it had not come out of it well. They split up to check the houses for any clues and Terri decided to start with the biggest house, it was dark in the house seemingly it was once lit by torches but all of them seemed gone now. The shadows seemed to move as she began to look around she was probably just paranoid, after a little bit of searching she found what seemed like pages ripped out a diary in a language she did not understand. She turned to find Zash but before she left she thought she saw a shadow pass the door, Terri spun around looking for the source of the shadow.

She found nothing and assumed she was just seeing things but as she turned she saw a figure in the doorway holding a bow drawn at her. She let out a small scream of surprise as the figure moved towards her in the darkness, her face was covered with a red hood she seemed to be wearing some form of tribal robes. Only her eyes were visible through her hood and they narrowed on Terri, she began to talk in a language unfamiliar to Terri all she could tell about it was that it wasn’t friendly.

Terri stammered putting her hands up “um don’t worry miss I don’t mean you harm I swear it” the figure frowned before doing a few motions with her hand, as she did green mist swirled around her fingers.

the figure put the bow back on Terri “that’s better now who are you what are you doing here?!” Terri was bewildered she could suddenly understand her but she was definitely still speaking another language

Terri tried to stay focussed “uh um we don’t mean you any harm we’re just looking for something” the figures eyes narrowed but Terri suddenly saw Zash sneaking up behind her. Zash grabbed her shoulder and shocked the figure who quickly fell to the ground unconscious, Terri jumped back startled “Zash I was talking to them I had it covered” Zash frowned at her with a look of doubt

Zash cocked her head at Terri “she had a bow on you Terri” ok that was fair Terri conceded “did you find anything besides a” she pulled down the hood revealing a rattataki female “rattataki native?” Terri still thought they could’ve gotten information from her but thy still had the pages

Terri passed over the notes “do you read this language?” it seemed whatever thing the rattataki had done had worn off as the words were gibberish.

Zash looked at the pages “I do actually this is Zabraki” Terri’s eyes widened like zabrak? “most of it is nonsense about a farm but it does talk about the ‘witches that come from the edge of the swamp’ they seem to fear them but can’t do anything due to their power, sounds promising” Terri looked at the rattataki maybe she was a witch after all she did some force stuff

Terri considered it “Maybe they don’t understand the force so they think it’s witchcraft?” Zash nodded it seemed likely simple folk had a habit of calling the force witchcraft or magic both of which were absurd

Zash looked to the rattataki “looks like we won’t need to talk to this one then, I know it’s not a concrete lead but it could lead to something without having to talk to an angry native. I’ll go put her somewhere discreet you find the quickest way to the edge of the swamp” Terri nodded she was still curious about the rattataki but avoiding conflict seemed more important

Terri quickly charted a course to the edge of the swamp on her datapad, this was all very bizarre the planet itself gave her the creeps and now witches it’s like she’d walked into a storybook. She wondered how that rattataki had made her understand their language that definitely wasn’t normal force power Terri was curious if she could learn such powers.

After a short wait Zash came back with a smile on her face “alright that should cover that lets go on a witch hunt” Terri chuckled she did enjoy Zash’s cavalier attitude to all of this it certainly made it a bit less intimidating.

They made their way across the red wastes towards where they could see the jagged trees rise up at the edge of the swamp. Terri imagined some people could find beauty in a landscape unfortunately she wasn’t one of them she just found everything scary and intimidating. Soon they reached the edge of the swamp and could see what looked like an unkempt path towards the cliff with broken torches lining it. They followed it and soon reached a cave which looked like it had been closed up by a rockfall, around the cave there seemed to be some signs of civilisation, some of the stuff around the cave was definitely made by people. Terri could see Zash channeling her anger and quickly the rocks plugging up the cave entrance had been thrown into the swamp water.

On the other side they could see a faint light at the end of the tunnel Zash smiled “now we’re getting somewhere” Terri followed as Zash strode excitedly into the cave. After a few turns in the tunnel they were met with a stunning large open chamber, pillars of rock jutted up into the ceiling and seemed to have buildings built into them around the chamber but what was most stunning was the luminescent green mist swirling between the platforms of the cave. Terri couldn’t tell if it was a liquid or if it was just very dense mist but it was unlike anything she had ever seen, glowing lights were scattered around the lair it was unclear what was making them work. Terri stood in awe this place was so eerily beautiful but yet there was no sign of people, maybe the conflict stretched here as well, maybe this was why there was conflict.

Zash stood next to her smiling “it’s stunning isn’t it Terri” Terri nodded still unable to move “I think we may have found exactly what I’m looking for” Terri was inclined to agree, she understood why the natives called them witches this was the most witchy thing she had ever seen. Zash began to walk forward to the edge of the platform, she waved her hand through the mist and as she lifted it up she found the mist swirling around her hand. Terri watched as she tried to manipulate it, all she seemed to be able to do it move it in the space not the most useful thing but very pretty. Terri gave a thumbs up to Zash who seemed a little disappointed, Zash began to walk further into the lair there were many pillars but the middle one looked more like where they would do their ‘magic’. They entered the middle pillar and came to a room with a large cauldron sitting in the middle Terri frowned oh no maybe they really were witches.

Zash ran her hand along the cauldron “I think there may be far more going on here than I first realised” Terri had to agree this seemed like a whole society “it’s a shame this society seems to have disappeared apart from maybe a sparse few it dis seem like a waste.They searched the rooms a bit more which had similar ritual circles no broomsticks though much to Terri’s disappointment. Terri felt her attention drawn to the back wall of the pillar she didn’t know why but it just didn’t seem right, she reached out with the force and suddenly she realised that there was a lever on the wall the whole time how could she have missed that.

Zash looked at her as Terri walked up to it “Terri what are you doing” could Zash not see it?

Terri felt like she had to pull it “there’s a lever here can’t you see it” she grabbed it, it was very stiff and took both hands to pull it down and the wall began to turn

Zash looked at her bewildered “how did you?” she quickly joined Terri on the rotating wall “how did you see that?” she seemed almost jealous

Terri looked away “I uh I dunno i just could” the wall finished turning and they both looked out at the small room. In the middle of the room was a figure cloaked in similar red robes to the rattataki but much more extravagant she was much larger but looked very frail. The green mist from before seemed to swirl around her form her eyes yellow skin wrinkled.

She looked at them her breathing was coarse but her presence still imposing “you saw it because I let you my dear” she walked down the steps to them slowly Terri felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up she was real scary “you seek knowledge and I seek assistance, my name is Mother Ysum and welcome to the Nightsisters Lair”...

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batbirdies · 5 years

Text

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic Part 7

I’m posting rough excerpts from my NaNo project this year which is a fanfic centered around Jason Todd eventually agreeing to dog sit Titus while Bruce and Damian are out of town. Involving some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually, some reconciliation between father and son.

Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

A NOTE: These are very rough drafts, I’m copy and pasting from my google doc, I switch tense all over the place, so apologies. WARNINGS: content includes PTSD flashbacks of sorts, violence involving humans as well as animals, references to dog fighting, lots of swearing.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“Mind telling me what the fuck this was all about?” The guy raised his eyebrows, seemed completely unphased by Jason’s poorly veiled threat a moment ago.

“Just an accident. Here, take my info.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card that he held out, nothing printed on it but a phone number. Jason stared at it. “I’d be happy to cover your medical bills for that arm.” He nodded to Jason’s left forearm, still held tightly against his body. Jason plucked it out of his hand, eyeing it for a split second before tucking it into a pocket, he’d throw it away later.

“Real generous of you.” The guy smirked. Jason squinted at him, waiting for some kind of hint. “We met before?”

“Oh I doubt it.” He took a drag off the cigarette. “I’d remember your dog if we had.” He looked around Jason then, at where Titus was standing, tight up against the backs of his legs.

Jason took a step forward, fed up. “What the fuck do you want? You think I’m stupid? Your friend there sicked that dog on us, I saw it. You-“ Jason cut himself off, felt Titus nudging at the back of his leg, he gave a low bark, quiet but unhappy. He didn’t want to make any hints if the guy didn’t know anything.

Hell this was Gotham. Nut jobs did insane shit like sick their dogs on people all the time.

They however didn’t usually seem so casually unrepentant and unafraid of the police showing up.

Tall Guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey now, if you hadn’t jumped in, I promise you he never would have bitten.”

“Oh, cause you’ve done this before? Is that it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, didn’t do anything, this was all just an accident. Crusher can get aggressive around other big dogs. And that is one big dog.”

“Is this seriously about Titus?” Jason was recalculating the idea that this idiot might know who he was. He chuckled.

“Titus, good name for him. He looks tough.” Jason stares at the guy, feeling a muted sort of astonishment at the idiocy in the world. Whatever this was, he wanted no part in it.

“You know what, you can get lost.” Jason started to turn away, he didn’t need to tug on the leash, Titus was happily leading the way.

The sound of rushed footsteps had him turning just in time to see the guy reaching towards Titus head, he saw the flash of a red tip of a cigarette tucked near the guys palm and lashed out before he could think better of it.

Leash still in his hand, he struck with his bad arm, snatched up the guys wrist, twisting it hard and fast until he couldn’t keep up the nonchalant act anymore.

“Ok, ok, shit man.” He sunk to his knees in an instant.

“Were you just gonna fucking burn my dog?” His arm was throbbing, the crushing grip he was keeping on the guys wrist making the pain flare like a bitch. Blood was dripping drown his arm in thick rivulets, down his hand, ruining his jacket and the assholes alike.

“Hey, hey, I just thought he looked tough-”

“So you thought you’d test your theory?” His grip was entirely too tight, he could feel the Lazarus bubbling up in him, everything in his vision taking on that vaguely green tinge.

“Hey, honestly man, I’m trying to do you a favor-”

“You fucking-”

“You like to bet? I can make you a fortune if he’s as mean as he looks.” He was on his knees, gasping out the words, gripping the wrist Jason held in his fist with his other hand desperately. Eyes wide in obvious fear. He choked, color crawling up his neck. “Please man-”

Jason didn’t make the decision to break the guys wrist, but it happened just then, his grip so tight that when he tensed at the statement - it was enough.

He gasped, “fuck man!”

“You’re lucky I don’t kill you.” Jason was shaking as he hissed out the words, skin hot, he felt the urge come up, the pulse rack through him.

Titus let out a high pitched whine, drawing back on his leash hard.

Jason let go. Took a hard step back, breath heaving, blinking away the green clouding his vision.

“What the hell man?” He was crying, clutching at his broken wrist with his good hand. Titus whined again, pulling on his leash enough to make Jason stumble a step after him.

He stood his ground for a second more, staring at this - this - “If I see you or your friend here again, you’ll leave with more than a broken wrist, you hear me?”

“Man why would you-”

“I said do you hear me?”

“Ok man, ok!”

Jason relented, letting Titus yank him around until they were walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. He was still fuming, filling his lungs with deep heaving breaths, trying to rid himself of the feeling of hornets buzzing around inside his chest.

It took him too long to realize that Titus was leading them the wrong direction, away from his apartment. When he finally blinked back into awareness they were two blocks away and his bloody arm was throbbing with every step he took.

Jason directed them all the way back around the block they were on instead of turning around. Feeling like he could use the exercise even while his arm hurt so bad he was hissing through his teeth. They were leaving a dripping trail of blood down the sidewalk as they went, every person they met crossed the street when they saw them coming but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He feels so tightly wound it’s a miracle he doesn’t snap like an old guitar string.

By the time they’ve traveled all the way back to Jason’s apartment Titus has gotten decidedly more exercise than required or planned and Jason feels no less angry than he had twenty minutes ago. He unlatches Titus’ leash and goes hunting for his first aid kit, stashed under his bathroom sink.

He’s pissed about his jacket, the sleeve is completely torn up and their blood all down it. It was a nice freaking jacket and an expensive one and when he tears it off in a huff and slings it over the edge of the bathtub he wonders briefly if Alfred could fix it….get the blood out, stitch up the torn pieces? Maybe that was asking too much but the man could be a miracle worker sometimes. Not to mention Jason was feeling almost a little like he owed him after the stunt with the gift, even if that was a little ridiculous and he’s never say it.

Getting a good look at his arm he’s definitely not happy. The skin is punctured to varying degrees of depth in large crescent shape, on his forearm as well as the tender skin on the inside of the arm. There’s enough blood that it takes a while for the warm water running in his sink to even rinse it away enough to tell. Following with antibacterial soap hurts like a bitch but dog bites are known for causing infections and Jason does not wanna mess with one.

He dabs it all dry with a clean dust rag he has stashed in the hallway closet, not wanting to ruin one of his actual towels with blood. It happened enough already when he came home after patrol with injuries, he was down to two good towels that didn’t have unfortunate stains.

Then he plasters a good layer of antibacterial ointment on the whole mess and covers it with two large bandages.

He still can’t calm down and he’s not totally sure why. At first he thinks it was just the confrontation, the audacity of two assholes to sick their dog on him and Titus but it’s not just that. It’s the dog fights.

Nothing should surprise him anymore.

Jason grew up on the streets. He started fighting crime before he was even a teenager. He’d died, he’d come to life, he’s been raised from a Lazarus pit, been through training like no other, done and seen things that could barely be believed.

But somehow the depravity of the human race could still shock him.

He remembers the fighting pits. The fear, the pain, the terror and violence. Remembers the twists, the random handicaps to teach him how to keep going when he was on his last leg. Remembered never really knowing what would happen if he lost, just the vague dread that it would be worse than this, worse than the constant fights and the surprise attacks and the complete lack of human connection.

Jason thinks about those dogs and he can’t fucking let it go.

He finds Titus in the living room, just standing in front of the couch like he’s been waiting for Jason to come out, his tail hanging low but wagging slowly, like he’s unsure. He huffs out a low sigh and throws his head back, stretching his neck and wondering, for a split second, if any of the shit he does, that any of them do, in costume ever makes a damned difference.

“Hey boy.” He says quietly as he shuffles back into the living room and sinks down onto the couch. “I’m not mad at you. You can relax.” He scratches at his ears when Titus follows him, and the dog lays his big ol’ head in Jason’s lap and makes a happy little snuffling noise and inspite of the morning Jason feels the edge of his mouth twitch up.

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ahotpeaceofshit · 5 years

Text

DARK THINGS (Chapter 1 Draft 1)

(also super unedited)

“Awwwww!!! Fucking shit, did we actually have to do that??” I fell back on my chair and let out a hasty sigh. “For real?”

“Yeah…. It's called homework.” Peter frowned before a smile crossed his face. “Well on the bright side, you'd make a decent stripper.”

“He doesn't really have the body for it though.” Steff eyed me from the other side of the desk sceptically. “Not enough ass.”

“Nah.. he hath not the skill to be a stripper, nor the charm.” Ellie, the girl who sat next to Steff, pondered for a moment. “A prostitute perhaps?”

“He's not pretty enough for that either.” My friend flicked their long hair back only to lean over the table and ruffled mine up with the sweetest smile. “But if we sell his organs on the black market, we're sure to make a fortune!”

“HEY!!! Fuck all of you!” I pulled away, playing a grumpy face while fixing up my now messy hair. “For the record, why do you always mess up my hair? It takes Peter forever to get it look this damn good.”

“That's very true, it takes a lot of effort to make Noel look presentable to society.” My friends snickered at Peter's words. “A shit load of effort.”

“AND, as I was saying,” I gave my best-friend a playful push for his word. “I would make an amazing stripper, sex worker or organ donor on the black market but that's not the point here!”

“Huh, sex worker?” Ellie mumbled under her breath. “More new words to learn.. great!”

She rolled her eyes and yawned as gray light broke through the window, softly landing on all of us. The classroom was illuminated with only the silver glow as the day slowly began, classmates stumbling in, the rings under their eyes darker then the world around them.

“So can I copy your homework, my dear mooooooooonlight?” I bated my eyes at him. “Pretty please…?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa….. how about, no! You need to learn your lesson.” He laughingly barked. “Come do it yourself, it's not that hard.”

“As if?” I groaned, tossing myself on the table like an angry toddler. “Why have you betrayed me like this?? I thought you loved me!!”

“You can copy mine.” Ellie said, her odd accent spilling all over her words as she pulled out her math supplies, her blond hair seemed to glow in the absence of light. “I'm not positive it is correct though..”

“Don't encourage him!” Peter exclaimed. “This way he'll never pass the class.”

“I was only fishing for Peter's sympathy but I guess my powers are too strong!!” I carefully took her notebook. “I could become the best super villain the world has ever seen!! Nahahaha!!!”

“No, it really isn't.” She shook her head at me kindly. “But dream big, kiddo.”

“Ellie, you sparkle fucking joy and I would willingly carry your children!” I gave her a big smile and began copying. Normally being called kiddo from a girl I had a slight crush on would have been frustrating but this early in the morning I didn't really mind.

“Noel...” Peter spoke my name with such care, I had to look at him. “You're a full blown idiot and you are aware that is anatomically incorrect right?”

“Who are you to control his body?!” Steff laughed while they pulled out their math notebook and slammed it on the desk next to mine. “Make space Noel, I don't have the homework either!”

Ellie gave them a gentle smile before pulling out her Nokia phone, a device that looked older then I was. She poked around on it while Peter arranged his books to look perfectly synchronized and they and I scribbled away. A tired humming began to fill the room as more classmates came in.

“By the way, where is your sister? Or Bryan for that matter?” I asked, barely glancing up from my work.

“You know Maria, she will stay in bed until the last moment even if God himself tried to wake her up.” Peter let out a small laugh. “And Bryan.. who knows?”

“He's probably dressed too masculine again.” Steff snickered. “His mom is probably making him change right at we speak so that she can impress Mr. You-were-born-a-girl-so-why don't-you-dress-like-one.”

“Speaking of Mr. Hofmann, why the fuck do neither of you two ever do your math homework?” My best friend looked over at us writing away. “Seriously, he's like the only teacher who always checks if we did it or not.”

I looked up into his deep brown eyes. They were the same as that of his twin sister and of his mother but I liked his the most. A soft brown that matched with his dark hair and skin… and his beautiful kissable lips. Not in a “I'm secretly in love with my best friend” kinda way, more in a “I would make out with my best friend at any given moment, in a platonic way of course.” There is a difference trust me, a huge one!

“Because Mr. Hofmann.” Steff groaned. “I live to spite him. My hate for him gets me out my goblin hole every morning.”

“True words that inspired people across the nation.” I nodded before turning my attention back to Peter, as if it ever truly left his gorgeous face. “Hey do you have number 5? 'Cause our dear Ellie just put a bunch of question marks there.”

“The spoken and written word has changed too much since my birth, keeping up bringeth with it many hardships.” She didn't even look up from her device. “And such calculations were seen as witchcraft, as they should.”

“Yeah…. So Ellie is being cryptic again.” I leaned my head on his shoulder and snuggled closer. “Please moonlight, do us this favor..”

“FINE!!” He sighed, passing me his notebook. “Why do I always give in so easily to you?”

“Because you love me!” I gave him a smooch on his cheek before focusing my concentration on the math problem. “I love you too...”

“Where would you get the idea that I… wait, did I just hear that correctly?” His tanned cheeks gave off a slight reddish tone, making it clear that he was blushing. “You like..love me?”

“Yeah.” I threw him a slight smile. “As a friend.”

“OOOOOOOh friendzoned!” Steff looked up from their writing to laugh. “But like seriously Noel, don't even try and deny you're totally in love with Peter.”

“I'm straight, so unless Peter is actually a trans girl,” I continued copying out the calculations. “We're just friends.”

“Can you just admit your bisexuality before before wrinkles cover your fleshy skin and the long fingers of death cuts the thread of your mortality?” Steff groaned. “Please!”

“Aye.” Ellie agreed, still not looking up from her phone. “We're begging ya.”

“Oh man… look I know you guys are the ultimate shitlords and our future rulers and all that but for fucks sake, can you talk like modern humans?” I scribbled in panic, jumping over stupid calculations to get the homework finished before the bell rang. “Now if you don't mind, I would like to finish this.”

“Finish what?” A voice stated as footsteps wandered through the door, Maria's soft giggle by his side.

“Awww Bryan, you sweet pumpkin!” I looked up from my writing for just a second to face my friend. “Get your ass over here and your notebooks out, we've got math homework to do!”

“oooh.. uhm you see..” Bryan stalled as he pulled up a chair towards where we sat. “well I.. uhm.. I.”

“We just did the stupid homework.” Maria plopped herself down on Ellie's lap and gave both her and Steff a kiss on the cheek. Ellie simply shifted her phone and let her girlfriend sit down comfortably. “Plus Bryan managed to get me out of bed so we're here a bit early.”

“BRYAN, You Motherfucker!! What happened to us dying together?” I frowned. “You truly disappoint me!”

“Yo dude!” Peter leaned over to the wide eyed teen. “How did you get Maria up? What kind of magic do you possess? Can you teach me??”

“She wrote me yesterday that she wanted to copy the homework so I did it quickly and..” He nervously looked back at Peter. “an..and so I came by this morning to pick her up. And she was already awake..”

“Stop using your fear to hid thy wizardry! Damn Skippy, I see through you.” Ellie ruffled up his hair without her blue eyes leaving the device she held in her hand. “Thy anxiety is so tough that I could spear it down with my bow and skin it to make a lovely rabbit soup.”

“What?” We all stared at her.

“She means you're so super nervous, like a rabbit.” Maria pipped up. “And that you shouldn't be scared, we're not gonna hurt you.”

“I WILL BE SCARED AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME… not scared? Stop being scared? If anything you're making me more scared!” Bryan pounded his fist on the table before his words drowned into a whisper. “And I have anxiety so yes, I will be terrified. Thank you very much.”

“I said no such thing.” Ellie looked up with a concern and yet gleeful look on her face. “You should be very terrified, thou areth friends with us. Ey!”

“I just shit myself, great!” He smiled and turned to Steff and I. “So what's taking you too so long?”

“What do you mean?” We both asked, looking up from our writing before I continued. “We're dumb, ok? It takes us a little longer do things.”

“Oh, we know that.” Peter laughed.

“Speak for yourself.” Steff punched my arm.

“No but why are you doing the whole page?” Bryan asked. “We only had to do five and six.”

“What??!” I glared at Peter while Steff glared at their girlfriend. “Then why are we doing all of these?”

“Who truly knows?” Ellie shrugged. “You should be asking yourselves that question. Thou has been jacked! Get reketh”

“Yeah, you guys just blindly copied out our homework, with no thought of what we actually had as homework.” Peter stated, his arms crossed. “It your damn own fault.”

The bell rang behind us, a soft ding dong but I didn't notice much. Instead, I was too busy imagining how I was gonna strangle Peter. Kinky, I know but I was thinking about doing it in a nonsexual way. More of a pure rage way.

“Fuck you!” I mumbled angrily. Ok, maybe I was thinking about choking him in a slightly sexual way but not in a gay way. Because I am heterosexual who is only into females! Super straight in every way, I thought as I watched his lips move as he countered my words and imagined kissing them.

“Fuck me yourself, coward.” He joked, pulling his notebook away from me.

“Gladly… wait no!” I whispered without thinking before shouting. “That's not what I meant.. I meant that you wish I would fuck you! Because.. I'm cute and you're cute and we'd be super cute together and.. no wait, what am I even saying?”

“Is he still pretending that he's straight?” Maria rolled her eyes when Steff nodded. “Noel, we all know you're in love with Peter.”

“Not even your mama loves Peter and she fucked him!” I shouted. “And you two are twins!!”

“Dude, that's.. that was uncalled for.” Bryan whimpered, in his hand a cubic cub that he turn endlessly without trying to solve the colorful square. “You can't accuse someone of incest, even as a defense.”

“I'm not accusing him of anything.” I spoke quietly before a smile danced across my face. “I'm just saying he's a motherfucker.”

Our group went silence as I glowed with pride at my, may I say, amazing delivery. The rest of them seemed to have a different opinion to mine, with Steff covering their face with their hands and Maria just giving me the death stare. Only Bryan, kinda muffled a slight smile. At least one of these savages understood my genius!

“Hey babe.” Peter placed his hand on my thigh. “I know you're in denial about our love so I would murder you where you sit.”

“NO!” My voice cracked as he stared at me with his deep brown eyes. “I'm fucking not! Cause.. uhm. Fuck you. Maria, make your brother bother stop bullying me!”

“Peter stop hurting the poor bean.” She smirked, her hand running through her hair. “Don't you see he's suffering enough from his undying love towards you, why would you inflict even more pain on him??”

“I hate all of you.” I shook my head at Bryan and he let out a sigh of relief. “But especially you Peter. You're stupid.”

“HEY!” Peter unleashed the full force of his math book against my head. “And I helped you after you totally forgot to your homework”

“I choose not to do it.” I said proudly. “Albert Einstein failed school and look what he did.”

“That's actually a total myth you know.” Ellie added. “He got really good grades but only Germany with our 1-6 notes so when he moved to another country with 6-1 notes they thought he had failed the grade.”

“Thanks for destroying all my hopes and dreams.”

Ellie blushed and began stuttering. “Oh no... I didn't mean it.. I'm so sorry.”

“Ellie, my precious bean, that was once again sarcasm.” Steff whispered to her and then turned on me. “And how could you not know that? Everyone knows that. Also side note, you kinda did forget your homework so don't lie to yourself.”

“I'm sorry, I don't spend my life reading up and learning random facts about famous people.” I tilted my chair a bit more. “Also how do you know that before wasn't a lie and this is me finally telling the truth.”

“No, you prefer playing video games over and over again.” Steff frown. “Doesn't shooting people get boring after some time?”

“I love you darling but no hating on video games.” Maria smirked. “Either way, wasn't Albert Einstein born with a smaller brain and that made him so smart?”

“It was only a tiny bit smaller then the average brain but with the same amount of brain cells which caused his brain to work far better then ours.” Peter added to the conversation. “And talking about hopes and dreams, Albert Einstein was working a boring desk job as an adult when he worked out his theories.”

“Hmmm... brains. I hear those things are tasty.” I licked my lips. “I'm actually getting pretty hungry, who wants to volunteer as tribute to my belly? Smart people only.”

“I think it's more about the spices and the way you cook it.” Maria stroked her imaginary beard “Raw brains sounds just gross.”

“Well that's just your opinion.” Ellie seemed to have gotten over her embarrassment and rejoined the conversation. “I think raw brains are delicious.”

“Eww.” Peter barked.

“Wow, we're really just going to kink shame poor Ellie here. She likes raw brains, you like dudes.” I put my arm around Peter. “There's no difference.”

“Wait, I'm not kinky. Not in that way at least.” Ellie spoke, startled. “I just enjoy a good meal. Vore is not a thing I like, nor will it ever be.”

“So being gay and being a cannibal is the same thing?” Peter glared. “You've truly sunken far, dear friend.”

“Seriously.” Steff joined in. “That's low even for you.”

“I'm sorry!” I attempted to defend myself but they seemed to have already hardened their hearts to my woo. “I was kidding..”

“There are some stuff you just can't joke about, that was one of them.” Maria joined into the fight. “And I thought you were cool.”

“How did we get from Noel not doing his homework to cannibalism?” Bryan asked into the group. “And how do we always move over to these kinds of conversations?”

“We were talking about Albert Einstein's brain then we came to brain food and then Noel had to compare cannibalism to being lgbt+.” Peter crossed his arms. “What does the defendant have to say in his defence?”

“I-..” “Guilty!” Steff broke into the conversation, interrupting my speech, one I had already thought about before I opened my mouth. “I say we execute him on the spot.”

“I second that!” Peter was quick to second it even though Noel looked at him with innocent eyes.

“How are we going to execute him then?” Maria rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Burning to the stake sounds like fun.”

“How 'bout no.” Ellie seemed visually shaken by even the thought. “What about beheading?”

“Too painless.” Peter countered. “He deserves to suffer.”

“Guys...” I tried to change the conversation but they continued to ignore me. I glanced at Bryan who seemed to have dissociated himself entirely and was inspecting a piece of lead that lay before him. I whispered his name several times before he shot back up into reality and looked at me puzzled.

“Shhh prisoner, the judges are deciding your fate.” Steff shushed him. “Mortals who hath' committed such a horrid crime does not deserve to speak.”

“Guys maybe we should leave Noel alone.” Bryan began his defense of my case but Steff cut him off, refusing to let him speak. “Shush human, spare us the sounds that escape your pretty lips. We know where your loyalties lie.”

“Don't take it to heart.” Maria spoke softly to Bryan. “We're just joking around and foreshadowing stuff, no need to worry.”

“My word, how about we cook him alive.” Peter rubbed his hands together “You know, with boiling water and all that good stuff.”

“I say we eat him.” Ellie grinned. “Tis the best way to depose of a corpse.”

“Yeah.. how about no.” Peter growled. “But a bloodsucker like yourself probably doesn't understand what no means.”

“Why wouldn't I know what no means?” Ellie countered, her eyes seemed to flash red for split second. “No means no, simple as that.”

“That is simply untrue.” We all spun around to see our dear math teacher, Mr Hofmann standing there, his body leaning on the doorway. The other students had noticed him standing there and had gone to their respectable seats. We had not. Who knew how long he had been standing there. How much he had heard.

“Sorry.” I said as I hurried to my proper place and pulled out my school books. The others did the same, some slower then others. Bryan rushed to his seat and practically threw his stuff on the table in terror while Steff stared him dead in the eye as they very slowly moved their chair to face the front.

“No. Definition: a negative used to express dissent, denial or refusal, as in response to a question or request. Also used to emphasize or introduce a negative statement.” He seemed to float into the room and found his way to his desk, his face unchanging before a slight smile crossed over his lips. “But It's math now so everyone pull out your homework. Everyone should have it, No excuses.”

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ask-chaos-kin · 5 years

Text

Chaotic Adventures in Babysitting Chapter 4

Warning! Long chapter! Along with a lot of exposition to characters and mention of Scoutit. Co Written with @royalbabble

“Alright, Rose is finally asleep, there’s no Freaks wanderin’ around, and the base is locked down for the night,” Pancakes announced, trudging into the living room with his warhammer slung over his shoulder, exhausted.

“I’m honestly surprised the others have been gone this long,” Roseflame stated from the kitchen while putting away the last of the dishes they used for dinner.

“I mean, it’s only been a day,” Pancakes shrugged, his warhammer disappearing. He slid onto the couch and sighed, “I mean, it’s Nightmare Medic of all Freaks, there's gonna be a few hold ups,” Pancakes yawned, “Jester might have gotten distracted by a cat, Spypers van could have broken down, they could be trapped in his lair, who knows,” Pancakes shrugged, “Only thing I can say is that it’s a good thing Scoutit ain’t around them. She’d hold everyone up and probably try to fight Chaos. Weird considering Chaos is Ace and all,” Pancakes yawned again.

“Knowing her, she’d ask Jester for the flag and hold it up to Scoutit. Then again, I’m only a few months into being even slightly considered a freak myself. You and Chaos have been the only people I’ve gotten even remotely close with,”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, aren’t you Ace too?” Pancakes asked, sitting up.

“Greysexual,” She responded going to the loveseat, “You?” Pancakes shrugged.

“I have no fucking clue,” Pancakes said, “Maybe bi. I don’t know yet,”

“Probably bi,” She turned on the TV to the local news and weather station.

“Our forecast predicts severe thunderstorms tomorrow throughout the day and into the next morning. In other news, Nightmare Medic has been seen roaming around the streets of Big City. No one knows of his current motives but things have been on the sketchy side. Back to you Claire,”

Roseflame sighed but didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried worse.

“Hopefully this means he’s distracted with something else and not after our friends,” Roseflame commented.

“Hopefully. I mean, chances are that Jester will have him distracted from everyone else,” Pancakes said.

“I mean, part of me knows I shouldn't worry seeing as well, most of them are trained killers already, but then you have ones like Chaos and Jester,” She looked to Pancakes to see if he understood.

“Yeah. I mean, Jester isn’t in any real danger. They’re body is...um...Shit how do I explain this…” Pancakes said, searching for his words, “They’re body is like, a projection. It can’t actually be harmed in any meaningful way. It’s...Ok I mean yeah they can still feel pain and all that, but they’re body isn’t where they’re vulnerable at. It’s their artifact. Destroy the artifact, you kill Jester. And luckily,” Pancakes said, reaching over to pick up his bag, “Jester left their artifact here, so they’re safe,” Pancakes grinned, pulling out the golden item.

“Well, at least they’re safe. What about Chaos though? We both know she can take damage and her resilience can only last so long,” She wondered, always the worry wart like Pure. Pancakes scowled for a moment and bit his lip.

“Her i’m not too sure about. Jester can easily give her and anyone else cover or could absorb any damage for her, but I don’t know how long or how effectively they could do that for,”

“Exactly why i’m worried,” Roseflame slumped further into the loveseat. Pancakes was silent for a moment, wracking his brain for something to say.

A lightbulb went off in his head and he began digging into his bag.

“Actually, I think we can see what’s going on,” Pancakes started, formulating the beginning of a plan. He picked up the artifact again and held up the cube that Jester had given them, “Jester can use this artifact to spy on other Freaks-don’t ask how-and the artifact reacts to Jesters power in order to do that. So what if we use the magic in this box and use it on the artifact to try and look in on what the others are doing?” Pancakes suggested, grinning like he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“I dunno, what if we accidentally get ourselves trapped in Jesters artifact?” Roseflame asked him.

“I mean, as far as I know, the only way to get stuck in this thing is if Jester themselves allowed us in in the first place,” Pancakes said, turning the artifact over in his hands to look at the rose colored gem inserted into the item.

“True,” She moved over next to him on the couch, eyeing the gem as well, “It’s such a pretty gem,” She commented. She had been known to spend hours of her time looking at gems in stores with spiritual items.

“Wonder how they even got locked in this thing,” Pancakes commented, “Oh well. Let’s get started,” Pancakes twisted open the cube and watched as the strands of magic danced their way out, spinning and swirling until they knitted themselves together into another small Jester, this one red and green. Pancakes held up the artifact to the tiny projection, hoping that the magic would know what to do. As he held up the golden item, the Jester frowned at it and crossed its arms as if befuddled by what was being presented to it.

“Oh come on, we want to see what’s going on with our friends! Can’t you show us or something?” Pancakes pleaded. The mini Jester looked up at him and then back to the artifact, shrugging. Pancakes scowled.

“Can it not-?” Pancakes began before being abruptly cut off by a bright flash of light that burst from the gem of the artifact. The tiny Jester spun into the air, exploding into a dizzying display of twinkling starlight. The artifact began to violently shake in Pancakes hands, emitting what sounded like music at an almost deafening volume.

“What did you do?!” Roseflame shouted, covering her ears.

“HOW WOULD I KNOW!?” Pancakes screamed, throwing the artifact to the floor which only seemed to make things worse. A blinding array of colorful lights flashed from the gem, covering the room in a rave of colors from across the spectrum. Then, with a loud hissing sound, two beams of energy shot towards Roseflame and Pancakes, turning their bodies into colored clouds of smoke that were sucked into the gem in an astonishing spiral of psychedelic music and light, both screaming as they did not know what was going on.

As they slipped further and further down into the dazzling world of colors and light, the aggressiveness that was seen upon first being sucked in faded, and the colors softened to gentle swirls that were no longer painful on the eyes. As the colors faded and their vision became unclouded, the two Freaks found themselves standing on some kind of platform high up off the ground, as evidenced by the clouds swirling around them. Roseflame looked around and went stiff, clinging to Pancakes arm. An understandable reaction, especially from someone who had a fear of heights. He now was the only Freak to know this. Pancakes looked around for a moment, trying to get his bearings. He inched forward onto the platform and gasped, completely bewildered by what he was seeing.

It was a giant, sprawling, lively carnival with colors, lights, and music all around. The rides and attractions that stretched for as far as the eye could see also reached as high into the sky as far as the eye could see. It was crazy to now know exactly what Jesters home looked like

“How high up are we?” Roseflame asked shakily, the elevation they were at being the only thing she cared to know at the time. Pancakes looked down and swallowed hard.

“It...it looks like we’re up a good 300 feet,” Pancakes said carefully, mindful of where he was stepping.

“Oh sweet lords… And I thought that the monsters in the Slender realm where bad,” She was gripping tighter, he never would have guessed she could have such a death iron grip.

“Uhm…” Pancakes turned to his left and his right, searching for a way down. He took a step back away from the edge and hit the wall behind him. The surface seemed to cave inward against the pressure causing Pancakes to stumble backwards through an opening in the wall. Roseflame jumped back from Pancakes and staggered to stay on the platform, waving her arms as she struggled to stay balanced. Righting herself, she saw Pancakes on his ass, having fallen through a secret passage behind them. Wasting no time, she threw herself into the building and kicked the door shut behind her, just happy to we away from the platform edge.

“I hope to god this isn’t payback for abusing their magic,” She groaned as she looked around the new area.

“I doubt it. One, Jester doesn’t hold grudges. Usually. Two, they specifically gave me some of their magic to use whenever needed,” Pancakes groaned, getting up.

“... Is it just me or does this look like a trap door like in one of those carnival fun houses?” She looked down after helping Pancakes to his feet.

“Yeah...it does, doesn’t it?” Pancakes said slowly, rubbing his head. They both slowly looked at each other, there was nothing else around them in this room but what looked like a trap door.

“Fuck,” Roseflame swore. Pancakes began walking around the room and feeling around the walls for some kind of switch to let them out. Walking along the wall, his hand hit a slight indent in the brick. Brushing his palm over it, he could feel a slight draft coming from behind the wall. That must be the way out. He pressed down onto the small indent and the brick wall caved to the touch. Pancakes took a step back as several mechanical clicks sounded off from the wall and crept it’s way up into the ceiling, the two Freaks following the noise until it stopped directly above their heads.

“What the-”

The floor beneath them flew wide open, sending the two hurtling downwards into a brightly lit abyss. Screaming and flailing about, the two Freaks could only tumble through the air past the several hundred floors of the building, watching as the lights flashed past their vision.

“WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUCK!!” Pancakes screamed, flailing and clawing at the air as he tumbled downwards. The only thing else to be heard was the ear piercing screams of Roseflame as she floundered about.

Rushing to ground level, Pancakes covered his eyes and braced for impact, Roseflame beside desperately trying to right herself in the air in the hopes that landing on her feet wouldn’t result in her becoming a red smear on the floor.

Whump.

Pancakes smacked hard against a bouncy surface before being sent skyward again. Utterly confused by his predicament, he tried to look down to see what he had hit.

A bouncy castle!

Pancakes hurtled back down at it, this time trying to land in such a way that would prevent him from being sent upward again. Roseflame smacked down beside him as he landed, visibly jarred by the several hundred foot freefall drop.

“WE’RE ALIVE!!!!!” Roseflame announced in relief, throwing her arms up in victory. Pancakes flopped down on his stomach, the wind having been knocked out of him. He crawled his way out of the inflatable and tumbled out onto the floor, dizzy. He looked up upon climbing out and saw several floors above them, hundreds of people congregating on those floors for whatever reason. Beyond those floors, he could see where he and Roseflame had fallen out of. A small hole in the ceiling over 300 feet up slowly closed itself, as if it hadn’t sent the two Freaks to their supposed death. Roseflame crawled out after him.

“Not revenge my ass...” She looked him in the eyes.

“Oh come on, this is a carnival, we’re bound to run into things like that,” Pancakes said shakily.

“Name one time you went to a local fair and fell over 300 feet,” She looked like she was about ready to smack him.

“Does this look like your local fair!?” Pancakes exclaimed, making a massive broad gesture to the giant building they were in, “Besides, Jester can’t exactly die, it makes sense they’d be a little reckless with this place,” Pancakes wheezed, still in shock from the fall. He carefully got up, his legs shaking.

“You and me both know we got jello legs right now. And some of it looks like it. But not really,”

“Let’s just find a way out of here,” Pancakes sighed, looking around. He blinked in confusion as he turned away from the bouncy castle, “Woah, why are there a bunch of mercenaries here?” Pancakes asked. Roseflame followed his gaze and found him staring at an entire swarm of RED and BLU mercenaries, all dressed up in different outfits as they went about their business in this crazy place.

“I think they inhabit this place. Kinda like imaginary friends but denizens of this place,” She looked to see just how many there were.

“Huh. Didn’t know there were people in their artifact to be honest,” Pancakes remarked.

“They might just be something Jester made so they weren’t so lonely in here. Makes me feel bad for them,”

“Maybe,” Pancakes said. He waved over to a BLU Spy that was passing by, “Hey!” The Spy stopped from the crowd he was walking with and looked over to Pancakes. He was wearing a dark blue fedora with cards lodged in the hatband. He wore a decently formal suit with a large red bowtie. He smiled happily and sauntered over to the two Freaks.

“Hello there!” The Spy greeted cheerily, “What did you call me over for?”

“Yeah um, we got stuck in Jesters artifact by mistake because we were trying to use it to check in on our friends. Do you know how we get out of here?” Pancakes asked calmly. The Spy shook his head, grinning.

“Tsk tsk tsk. I’m afraid to inform you that that’s not how things work around here,” The Spy informed, “You see, Count Jester owns this place. They control everything here, and everything is directly tied to them. Whatever they want, this place can provide. As such, people cannot leave or get in without their permission,”

“But we didn’t get in with Jester. We used a box containing some of their magic-”

“And here’s where the problems present themselves,” The Spy interjected, raising a hand, “You using their magic does not automatically mean you have access to their artifact. Did the artifact react aggressively to you using Jesters magic on it?”

“Well...yeah but-”

“Then the artifact didn’t know what to do. It was being presented with Jesters magic, but not Jesters permission or presence. As such, it became confused and in a word-crashed. I saw it. Some of the carnival was pushed into the real world and the artifact tried to pull it all back in. In doing so, it brought you two with it. Now that you’re both in here with no access to Jesters magic at all, you’re stuck here until Jester themselves gets back to let you out,”

“Oh my god. We just left Rose by herself in the base. She’s gonna wake up crying,” Roseflame was pacing as the realization struck her. They left a five year old by themselves in a base without anyone to watch over her. Anyone could take her without anyone to rescue her. Her mind was going into hyperdrive in worry and she began to hyperventilate.

“Well..eheh...You see,” The Spy began, turning to Roseflame, “It appears that the blast from the artifact was just a bit larger in size than you thought,” The Spy said.

“What?! Is she gone?! HURT!?!!” Pancakes had to put a hand on her chest to calm her down slightly. She was extremely shaken.

“Well, no. It’s rather difficult to get hurt here-”

“SHE’S HERE!?” Pancakes screamed, it now being his turn to worry endlessly.

“...Yes,” The Spy confirmed matter-of-factly. Without another word, Roseflame fainted, and Pancakes wasn't too far from doing the same.

“Where is she?” Pancakes demanded. The Spy wrung his hands together with a nervous laugh.

“Well...I have no clue,” He admitted, “But! She is somewhere nearby,”

“And how close is ‘nearby’?”

“About halfway across the carnival,”

Now was Pancakes turn to faint.

***

Rose blinked out the swirling colors in her eyes, disoriented from the strange transition she’d just gone through. Rubbing her eyes and getting in grip on her senses, she sat up. Opening her eyes, she gasped in wonder at her surroundings. She was at ground level, in some kind of brightly lit building filled to the brim with stuffed animals. She looked around, a crazy grin spreading across her face. It was like a giant Build-A-Bear workshop! She stumbled to get up and check out her surroundings, wanting to see what this strange new place had to offer. She waddled to one of the giant stacks of stuffed animals and reached out to take one, but they were situated above where she could reach. Even standing on the balls of her feet she couldn’t quite grab any of the toys.

“Hey kiddo, what you doing over here?” A voice similar to Anthony’s called out to her. Turning around, she found a BLU Scout standing nearby, wearing goggles, a down vest, and what looked like a pilots hat. He grinned at her and ambled over to the stack of animals and pointed at the one she was reaching for, as if to ask if this was what she was after. Rose nodded quickly and extended her arms out to it. He got it down for her carefully so nothing else fell on her.

“‘Ey! What are you doing over there? We have more stuffed animals to make!” Another voice called. Rose watched as a BLU Engineer wearing a cowboy hat and what looked like winter clothing rounded the corner, holding a half finished stuffed crocodile.

“There’s a kid over here!” He called, waving the Engineer over, “I think she got pulled in when the carnival nearly got out,”

“Aw shucks, another one?” The Engineer sighed, “That makes three in just a day,”

“Think we should try to take her to the others?” The Scout asked as Rose walked over to him, tugging on his vest to be picked up. He obliged and carried her, “Who knows how long until Jester gets back,”

“Here’s hoping nothing happens to them,” The Engineer said, “Well, I mean, if something DID happen to them that was enough to destabilize their form, they’d come back here immediately to reform, but Jester’s not the kind of person to deliberately tolerate pain,” The Engineer shrugged.

“Yeah, from the chit chat I heard around, they other two got the High Drop. They’re currently at one of the rest areas since they fainted not long after,” The Scout stated while Rose looked around the area, admiring the many stuffed animals around them.

“Well then we better head over there,” The Engineer said, “The Centerpiece is halfway across the carnival though,”

“I could make it no sweat. It’ll take me less time to get there. Unless you wanna use the cart dat is,” The Scout suggested, looking at a golf cart that was parked near what looked like a garbage that led out of the workshop. It looked like it was used for getting stuffed animals from place to place while Jester was gone.

“Yeah let’s use that,” The Engineer said. The two climbed into the cart and set Rose in between them while the Engineer cranked up the vehicle, “Wonder if Jester will be ticked off when they get back,” He thought aloud.

“Who knows. Knowing them, they'll ask the two what they were trying to do in the first place,” The Scout said while buckling Rose in.

“Probably,” The Engineer sighed. The cart roared to life and the Engineer backed up the vehicle for a moment to give enough room to drive out of the workshop, “Hey! Look after the workshop while we’re gone!” She called. Rose peeked over the dashboard and saw a RED Heavy lean from behind another pile of stuffed animals. He smiled and gave a thumbs up and disappeared back behind the tower. The Scout then looked around for oncoming people.

“You’re clear to go,” the Scout announced, still keeping an eye out. The Engineer turned the cart towards the garage and drove through, mindful of the people within taking stock of several other items that were stacked high to the ceiling.

“Don’t you worry sweetie, we’re gonna get your to your friends soon enough,” The Engineer assured calmly, glancing down a Rose. She smiled at him, not seeming to mind her current predicament.

***

Pancakes jolted awake, dazed and confused. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he shifted in the bed and rolled over onto his back with a groan. Roseflame was still knocked out in the bed beside his. He’d probably have to wake her up himself. With a grunt, Pancakes forced himself to sit up, being confronted once again by the bright colors of Jesters world. He scooted to the edge of the mattress and slid off the bed, stumbling as his feet hit the floor.

“You sure you should be walking around right now?” A nearby RED Medic said, this one wearing a vest with clear bottles and syringes stuffed into the pockets, surgical equipment that was wrapped around his left arm, and a surgical mask. Strange. Pancakes didn’t expect Jester to put actual doctors in their world. The Medic approached briskly, wasting no time in crossing the distance between himself and the Freak.

“I can walk-” Pancakes said as he was abruptly interrupted by himself plopping back onto the bed.

“Now just sit down for a moment. You weren’t hurt or anything, but because you fainted your blood needs some time to get back up to your brain,” The Medic said, “Just take it easy for a moment and you’ll be on your way soon,”

Roseflame let out a small groan, she looked like she was about to wake up. That was until she turned her body to her side that he realized she had just entered REM.

“Well, she’s not waking up anytime soon,” Pancakes sighed. He rubbed his face and attempted to stand again, “Where’s Rose? You guys said Rose was here too,” Pancakes asked.

“Like we said, Rose is halfway across the carnival,”

“Ok but where exactly?”

“We don’t know. We can only tell the general location of outsiders to this world, we can’t actually pinpoint their location,” The Medic explained, shrugging. Pancakes sighed as soon as he heard Roseflame snoring slightly. He glanced down at his bed. He had an extra pillow he could throw at her to wake her up. He snatched up the pillow and took a moment to fluff it up before hurling it at Roseflame, hitting her right in the head. She snarked and flailed a bit before shooting her glare at him.

“Asshole,” She looked at him before noticing the Medic, “Oh, hi there,”

“Hello,” The Medic greeted kindly.

“How long were we out for?” She asked, concern in her voice upon realizing they were in a different location.

“About 30 minutes. Maybe. Time works a bit differently here than in the real world,” The Medic said with a vague gesture towards nothing in particular, “When you fainted you were brought here to one of the rest areas,”

“So this isn’t a hospital?” Pancakes quizzed, looking around.

“Ehe, no. The hospital areas are halfway across the carnival,” The Medic explained as he ambled over to a set of curtains and pulled them aside to reveal a balcony that led out to a perfect view of the carnival. The Medic pointed to a large structure straight ahead from the rooms view, “That is the Infirmary. Jester made this world in such a way that it’s impossible to be hurt, but they decided to put in a hospital area anyways just in case,” The Medic said.

“I mean, in our case we fainted from shock. So we weren’t really hurt or anything,” Roseflame commented, forcing herself to sit on the bed.

“I work at the Infirmary but the Partygoers here called me in to check on you two,”

“Partygoers?” Pancakes asked.

“That’s what we’re called,” Said the Medic.

“Makes sense, given this is Jesters world after all,” Roseflame commented, “It still begs the question, what are we supposed to do until Jester gets back? We don’t belong here, especially without Jester around,” She wondered. There was no doubt in her mind that they would be miffed at the two teenagers.

“You could stay here in the rest area until Jester gets back. Or you could go outside and enjoy the carnival for the time being. Or you could go and search for the little one,” The Medics suggested, looking out to the carnival.

“Probably look for her, and enjoy the carnival. Haven’t been to one before, well-”

“Other than local fairs?” Pancakes snarked, giving her an annoyed look whilst finishing her sentence.

“Yes, other than local fairs,” She groaned out. The Medic sauntered over to some kind of system nearby with several tubes running up from it into the ceiling. He plugged in a few numbers into a keypad. He then opened up a compartment on the terminal and removed a container and placed it inside one of the tubes. With a whoosh, the container was shot through the tube and carried away.

“Must be a delivery system or somethin’,” Pancakes pondered aloud. After a few moments, the container came back through the tube with something inside it. It came to a halt back at the entrance point of the tube and emitted a soft ding. The Medic removed the cylinder and popped it open, removing two bottles of flavored water from inside.

“We’re running short on flavors, so all we have at the moment is orange flavored water,” The Medic said sheepishly. He placed the container back into the terminal and came back over to the bed to give the two Freaks their respective beverages.

“How in the fuck?” Pancakes breathed, looking at the bottle.

“That system,” The Medic said, jabbing a thumb back at the terminal, “It's how we Partygoers ask for drinks and food from all over the carnival. All these tubes are connected to food courts, and if we want something to eat or drink, we just plug in the respective calling number for it, put the canister inside a tube, and then off it goes for pickup. Then it comes back with whatever we ordered and we put the canister back into the terminal,”

“Talk about fast food. So where are we right now? I know we were at some Big Top/Casino earlier before we fell over 300 feet onto a bouncy castle,” Roseflame asked, starting to drink her water.

“Oh, you’re still in the same building,” Informed the Medic, “This place,” The Medic said with a broad sweeping motion around him, “Is The Centerpiece. Count Jesters home. This is where Jester watches over the carnival, where some of the most extravagant parties are held, and where most of the madness goes down. It also happens to be where we all go to tuck in whenever Jester goes to sleep. This place is like a giant castle crossed with a Casino. Minus the gambling of course,”

“Holy fuck, how big is this place?” Pancakes asked, surprised.

“Hard to say,” The Medic said slowly, “I mean, it’s big enough to comfortably hold over 10 million Partygoers-”

“10 MILLION!?” Pancakes cried, thunderstruck by the sheer size of the population that could somehow fit inside a single building.

“...Yes that’s about how many Partygoers live here…” The Medic affirmed.

“Wow, guess Jesters never really been alone huh?” Roseflame stated. At least they’ve been in good company for a while since they’ve gotten their powers.

“Never,” The Medic confirmed.

“How long until we’re given the go ahead to leave?” Roseflame asked as she was finishing her water.

“You have to wait until Jester gets back,” The Medic replied.

“I mean medically, go from the rest area,”

“Ah. Well, you can go ahead and leave right now,” The Medic said, “The door’s unlocked, you’re free to roam around if you like,” And with that, the Medic headed out of the room.

***

Chaos and her team were leading the Freaks carefully towards Nightmare Medic’s lair, everyone on edge and minding exactly where their footsteps fell.

“He could be nearby so everyone stay on guard,” Chaos explained as they reached the edge of the forest towards the lair. Brutal was bored out of his mind following orders. He listened to Pure enough as it was that everyone else doing something similar disinterested him to no end.

“Any signs Major?” Chaos asked their escort.

“No sign of Nightmare anywhere,” Major Scout Guy remarked, looking around the area of the base, “Anything Soldine?”

“Negative,” Soldine responded, his robotic voice coming through in a mess of static through the handheld radio Major had brought with him.

“If Jester had brought their artifact with them they could just pinpoint where Nightmare is and we’d be on our way,” Brutal groaned.

“And they could have also been put in worse danger than we already are in. But these BLU’s still deserve a rescue, even if we have to put cones on your hands once we get them out of the dungeon,” Chaos commented.

“I don’t enjoy working with him, but we do appreciate the help Chaos,” Major Scout Guy gave a smile to her.

“My team’s closely associated with you guys, even if you threaten to kill my extended family,” She commented. Her new Soldier and Demo were part of HECU before joining her team. They kept ties in order to better help the association.

As they continued walking, Jester kept an eye on them from the sky, their form having shrunken down tiny enough that they could easily be mistaken for a bird and nothing more.

“Seeing anything Jester?” Chaos asked through her own small radio.

“Nothing up here,” Jester radioed back, “I’m really wishing I had brought my artifact with me, I could find Nightmare in no time,” Jester sighed.

“Least it’s in good hands, well Roseflames if not Pancakes,” Chaos assured, quickly radioing to her Sniper to move to a nearby cliff, “Speaking of which, was that on purpose or accident?”

“On purpose. I’d rather not risk being destroyed,” Jester said, “Now I'm just wishing I'd brought it with me to speed things along,”

“On the bright side, we have Soldine and Major with us,” Chaos motioned to Major.

“So you’re that Count Jester we’ve been hearing about, the one who helped take down Grave,” Major Scout Guy entered the radio chat.

“Yep, that’s me,” Jester said.

“Good to know we have people like you on our side,” He gave them a thumbs up.

“Just don’t give them any sugar or you’ll have them bouncing off the walls like a goddamn pachinko machine,” Brutal added.

“No readings of anomalies, Nightmare is out of the building. We should be able to quickly get in and get the team out,” Soldine informed everyone over the radios.

“Good to hear. As much as I understand you guys bringing me along i’d rather not be thrown around by the spawn of sata-OW!” Jesters words were abruptly cut off by a pained yelp that peaked the speakers of the radios.

“What’s wrong Jester?!” Chaos called over the radio, she and Major watching as Jester was returning to normal size and floating down. The two quickly rushed to their aid. The energetic Freak dropped back down to earth and staggered for a moment, holding the side of their head.

“I just got a sharp pain in my head,” Jester winced.

“Need some help standing up?” Major Scout guy moved into a position to help them keep stable.

“Thanks,” Jester huffed, rubbing their temples.

“I didn’t know you could even get headaches,” Brutal remarked beside.

“Neither did I,” Jester said. They took their hand away from their head and briskly turned around to face the direction where Chaos’ base was. They blinked for a second and then scowled, “Someone is gonna get smacked,” Jester bit, folding their arms. Chaos earned a shocked and confused face.

“Who?” Both freaks stepped back as Jester started to get an angry glint in their eyes, “They’re at the base?” Chaos asked in concern

“Yes,” Jester snapped, sparks began to fly off their body. Everyone took a small step back from the Jester, both to keep themselves clear of the sparks and to avoid any potential outburst, “Someone,” Jester started, turning back to the rest of the group, “Has invaded my personal space. Without my permission,” Major Scout Guy gulped, worried he might have upset the normally jovial freak.

“Welp, that’s not good,” Brutal remarked.

“L-look, I didn’t mean-”

“What do you mean Jester? Was it Major?” Chaos asked in worry.

“No, it’s wasn’t him. It was someone else. Three someone else’s to be exact,” Jester said. Soldine landed near them and gestured to the lair. Chaos’ eyes went wide and she looked back in the direction of her base. That wasn’t good...

“We can solve this problem at a later time, I suggest getting the BLU team out before more trouble is caused,” Soldine suggested. Everyone jumped-except Soldine-as a portal opened behind him without warning, and a white spy walked through to join them.

“Sorry to pop in unannounced, but hopefully you don’t mind me joining this time,” Pure announced, looking upon the startled group.

#Count Jester #Chaos Kin #Ass Pancakes #Chaotic Adventures in Babysitting #Christian Brutal Sniper #christian pure spy #Spyper #Major Scout Guy #Soldine #Freak Fortress 2 #Roseflame

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

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Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla Sky prt 39 full draft

Lance wasn't doing ok. Physically he was getting better, but as the infection in his chest cleared around the two and a half movements mark since the crash and now surgery loomed around the corner. The procedure wouldn't be performed on the Atlas, but instead on New Altea. Lance didn't want to leave so many things unanswered. He didn't want to be pushed aside and disregarded, which was exactly what felt like was happening. Keith was his main line with the outside world. Shiro dropped by from time to time, sometimes Curtis was with him and sometimes he was. Hunk had come by twice but was acting distant, unable to meet his eyes despite the fact he'd nearly crushed him in a hug as he cried his eyes out over being so worried about him. Shay had shyly come to enquire about his health and wish him well. Krolia had thanked him for his service and thanked him for getting Keith back home in one piece. Even Zak had ventured up to tell him he was an "idiot", but "an idiot that had done a good job". He knew Acxa and Keith's team had come by when he'd been napping, catching the tail end of the four of them talking outside the door... So he didn't know why he felt so hollow inside. Actually. He did. His fight with Veronica. His sister angered that he'd taken such measures without thinking of their family, and without consulting her about it. He couldn't admit the truth of what happened with Klearo to her. He couldn't admit that he'd fucked up from the very beginning then was tricked by someone who he looked up to. Veronica had basically insinuated that he was a burden, who didn't know what he was doing and should have stayed on Earth. She didn't get it. She didn't get to him that being a "burden" was his greatest fear. She didn't get that his drug and alcohol abuse had steadily grown worse, or understand the way he wrecked their family with his mere presence. Keith tried his hardest to help him through his moods and panic attacks, but he felt like he was shackling Keith down with his depression. Keith who still treated him like he was the most treasured person in existence. Keith who said they'd work things out... then left things in the air. It wasn't like he wanted to talk to the ship's councillor... but when they didn't come by his room, he had to wonder if Keith wasn't secretly enjoying him being so messed. The disgusting thought left him unable to look his boyfriend's way for vargas, ultimately serving to hurt Keith when he hadn't done anything wrong. Which he wasn't. Shiro's actions had told him that. No. It wasn't fair to blame Shiro. Keith had desperately needed the healing pod, and Lance couldn't be more relieved that his boyfriend had been healed. He just... felt... insignificant. No matter how he sat or laid, some part of his body hurt. He missed eating real food, being stuck on a liquid diet until after the surgery. He missed being able to move around, and shower unaided. Keith had been granted permission to help him shower. Each of the sticky sensor pads had left bruised behind after pealed off his tender skin. He was losing weight again, and losing his drive. He wasn't ok, and was only getting worse as he was kept waiting, unable to feel like he was being punished for getting Keith in harms way, by not being healed. He got that the Atlas couldn't leave it's orbit over the Altean ship while the investigation was on going, but didn't get why Shiro didn't open a wormhole to New Altea so that he could be put in a pod. Being comatose for a phoeb or three sounded ideal when compared to sitting in a very uncomfortable hospital bed, or trapped in his nightmares all night long thanks to the sedatives Daehra had prescribed to help him sleep through his nightly coughing fits. Lance didn't want to take more drugs. The more he craved them, the more he tried to push them away. He knew it was dangerous to fall back into his bad habits, but these new ones were working for him. They weren't filling up that hole in his heart from being unwanted, or easing the guilt he felt from relying on Keith. Quintant after quintant he was left laying there as it blurred together. To him it was like being left that cell all over again. He was constantly waiting to wake up and find himself being dragged out to Klearo's bed. Or to wake up and find himself still in the outpost, with Keith having been stolen away and cut to pieces. He wasn't stupid. He knew there had to be a network of connections when it came to Kre'el. She was just one woman... A woman he wanted answers from. A woman who'd lied to him so seamlessly and easily that the thought of her made him feel physically ill. None of these symptoms were going to clear before he was forced off the Atlas. Shiro probably didn't want him to ever return. He probably didn't want him anywhere near his team, and it didn't matter how illogical the arguments were for why that was so, his anxieties had him wrapped around their little finger. Shiro wouldn't haven't jumped in to help him, had it been him alone. He knew it. Like really knew it. The voice in his head whispered it over and over, never a kind word directed his way. He was his own worst enemy. With each quintant that passed, he was sure he was moving that much closer to insanity... Sure he was slipping away from the most wonderful boyfriend a guy could ask for. He didn't want to tie Keith down with his mental health issues. He didn't want to keep having panic attacks out of nowhere, and dreams he couldn't wake from. He wanted to be strong for Keith, but had no idea where to begin. * With his arms loaded up with bedding from the Telula and a treat from Hunk, Keith was running late. Daehra was on "Lance Duty" for the morning, his panic attacks so bad that Keith didn't want him left alone. He honestly feared for Lance hurting himself without realising he'd done it, or even worse, being caught up in a flashback and lashing out against someone he loved. Neither of them were really happy about Lance being transferred off the Atlas and out to New Altean, without answers. Lance was going through so much and taking him away without giving him answers was cruel as hell. His boyfriend wasn't reacting well to the news, hence why he'd dropped down to the kitchen to see if Hunk had something chocolaty to lift his spirits, then it was down to the Telula to get Lance a nicer blanket than the one on his hospital bed, back up to the kitchen to collect two chocolate milkshakes that looked like everything Lance wasn't supposed to be having. Lance's was packed with extra vitamins and minerals, but Keith had forgotten which one was which. His mind too busy. With Daehra and Lucteal, who was acting like Lance's personal bodyguard and limiting access to Lance's room, he knew he had the time to rustle up his surprise after a quick check up to make sure his ankle was healed properly... only for Shiro to corner him just short of his end goal. The expression his brother wore could only mean trouble... Opening the door to the room beside him, Shiro had planned to ambush him. The conveniently empty room said as much. Taking the milkshakes out of his hands, Shiro placed them down on the desk by the door, before crossing his arms and giving him his best "dad" look "Something you want to tell me?" "Uh? I was grabbing a blanket for Lance..." "Not about that. Well, about Lance, but something a little more pressing" "Not that I can think of..." Keith was confused. Shiro had that calm anger thing going on, like he was ready to snap, or turn on that disappointed tone. Personally Keith would prefer the violence, but knew Shiro would opt for disappointment because it hurt more. Reaching into his pocket, Shiro pulled out a small vial of shimmering red liquid. Keith's shock was written all over his face as he stared at the vial. Daehra wasn't stupid enough to just leave one laying around... and he had no idea how he was about to talk his way out of this. Opening his mouth, he made a weird kind of squeak before getting the words out "How did you get that?" "When Lance kept refusing painkillers, I watched over the camera footage from his room, and what do I see? I see Daehra injecting this into Lance's IV daily. I've had it analysed Keith" This wasn't his secret to be telling... Shiro had no right putting him in this position "Do you want me to tell you what I found? Or should I have you tell me what I found?" "I... ugh..." "You what Keith? Do you know how dangerous this is! You've known about this for phoebs, haven't you!?" Keith wasn't sure how Shiro pulled off apocalyptic rage that sounded do disappointed. Shaking, he nearly dropped the blankets "What were you thinking?" "Lance..." "Lance what? Didn't want me to know? You should have known better. I told you how dangerous this stuff is. If he has a drug problem, you should have told me immediately. Do you know how dangerous this is? How addictive this is? Do you understand what kind of a situation you've put me in?" Tears rolled down Keith's face and dripped onto the blankets, unable to meet Shiro's eyes "Well, do you?" "Sh-Shiro... it's not what you think" "What I think is that Lance has a drug problem you've neglected to inform me of. Do you have any idea what kind of complications that this could have caused during his surgery?" "You don't understand..." "Then tell me!" It'd been years since Keith had felt the fear that had his heart racing and his stomach flipping. The fear that came from parents or parental figures... dropping to squat, he buried his face in Lance's blanket, breathing in his scent as he tried to calm down "Then I'll go ask him..." "No!" "Then start talking. Does Coran know? Is this the secret you've all been hiding from me?" Keith shook his head. Yes, it was a secret, but not that one "You don't understand... what he's been through" "What's that supposed to mean?" "I can't... Shiro... it's not my secret to tell" "I'm sick of hearing that. This stuff could kill him. Is that what you want? Lance dead?" Falling back onto his arse, Keith shook his head "He could have died on the operating table" "Shut up!" "Keith, tell me what's going on!" "They got him addicted to it! They kept him drugged up while they tortured him! We... he... we left him alone... he was doing everything he could to forget... we've been... working on... bringing him off of the drugs. He's been making progress... then this happened. He doesn't want to be dependant on them. He doesn't want to..." Breaking down into sobs, Keith felt awful. Another precious secret gone up in flames because of him. Gulping for air, Keith hugged the blanket tighter as he rocked "We were working on this... he was getting better... you had no right..." "Keith..." "No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare... He's my husband, of course I knew about it. Of course I was helping him with. Of course he was trying to get past it... You have no idea how bad Earth was for him. He feels like he broke his whole fucking family... They kept him on this stuff... and... he doesn't want to be... he doesn't want to take them... that's why he wouldn't take more medication. He knows he has a problem, but you can't even trust him! You couldn't trust that Daehra understood. She didn't know how bad those injections were... not until... until after... I came. He couldn't cope, Shiro. He felt like none of us wanted him... he still doesn't feel wanted. This was his case and you're sending him away with no answers. He was working hard out here... only to be betrayed" Angered, Keith didn't realise the slip of his tongue calling Lance his "husband". He couldn't stop crying "I don't want him to die... I don't want him to die... he's my whole fucking world... Coran... we... would have talked to him... not where you could find out. All he's wanted is your respect. He... can't see how amazing he is... because he feels so inferior to everyone..." Keith hiccuped "He's falling apart because of this... you don't know what it's been like for him..." "Lance could have reached out for help at any time" "No..." "Yes. He knows we would be there" "No he didn't!" "Keith, you need to calm down for me" "How can I do that!? You just accused me of wanting him dead!" "I..." Keith knew Shiro pushed because he worried for the pair of them, but that didn't mean anything. He'd well and truly crossed a line "I'm sorry. But you can understand how much of a shock this has been" "It wouldn't have been a shock if you could just trust people..." "He has a drug problem" "And we were dealing with it" "What if something had happened?" "Like what?" "Like he hurt someone when he was high" "It doesn't work like that. Lance doesn't get violent without a good reason" "Are you saying that as his partner or as his friend?" "Both. He's in so much pain all the time... we've been working so hard to get though things" "And that fight you had, where he left, was that to do with this?" Keith shook his head "That's between Lance and Krolia. As far as I know, she and he have talked" "You've still left me in a tough position" "It doesn't have to be. You're sending him away anyway..." "I'm not sending him away. I'm transferring him so he could have surgery and finally go into a pod" "Something you couldn't have done sooner? You couldn't have shipped Kre'el off to Altea?" "No. You know that as well as I do" "It feels like according to you, I know nothing. It's not my first time around drugs, Shiro. You know what those homes were like. You know you can't do jack shit to help anyone who doesn't want help. He asked for help" Sighing, Shiro moved to squat down across him "You know I care about both of you. I'm just shocked that you didn't come to someone who was more experienced to get advice and help for him" "I talked to you. I talked to Coran. I talked to Krolia. I even talked to Lance's mum. But none of you could tell me what I needed to know. How could I betray his trust like that? He needs safety and stability. He needed to get his feet back under him" "I'm proud of you for trying to help him, but you're not trained in these kinds of things. Frankly I don't know if I can continue to let Daehra treat him when she's been giving him such a dangerous substance. I love you both, and all I want is the best for Lance, but you understand that these secrets aren't helping him, or helping me to figure out how to help him" "Shiro... please..." "We're both going to have a little talk with Lance about this" "You can't" Keith's heart was breaking. Lance was going to be torn apart by this. He was already depressed as it was. The conversations they did have were never about what happened, Lance steering away from the topic every time they nudged it. If they weren't talking, Lance wanted to cuddle... but his husband would stay silent for vargas at an end. He'd been so focused on getting Lance through the surgery and then into some kind of counselling and help like he'd asked for that he hadn't foreseen this kind of a speed bump. Carrying the two milkshakes with shaky hands, Shiro had plucked the blanket out his hold as the pair walked into Lance's room. Lucteal had practically glared at Shiro, acting like he didn't want to allow them access to Lance's room. And quiznak if Keith wished he hadn't. Sitting up in his bed, Lance's face brightened up at the sight of him, before falling as Shiro followed into the space "Babe... have you been crying?" Stupid Lance, seeing right through him even when he was trying to hold it all. Shaking harder, Keith barely made it to Lance's left side, placing the milkshakes down on a rather expensive looking machine that was off "It's ok, babe. I'm ok. Daehra, can you give the three of us a little space?" "She should..." "Shiro, trust me on this. Daehra, it's ok. We just need to talk to Lance about something" Daehra's eyes flicked to the IV bag, her empathic senses probably knowing what this was about "Lucteal and I will be right outside" Nodding, Lance seemed to retreat further into himself "Why don't you two go rest? I have a feeling this isn't going to be all that fun, so I'm already scheduling my after scowling nap. I've already had it all from Veronica, so we might as well get Shiro off the list too" "Alright, I understand. Keith, you know what to monitor for?" Avoiding Lance's gaze, Keith jumped at Daehra's question "Uh... yeah. Go ahead" "Please do not upset him further. He has been through quite a lot. A lot of which you would not understand" There was no settling the silent thing going on between Daehra, Lucteal and Shiro. He'd hoped for Lance's sake the would have patched up their differences over the past three movements, but that remained a big fat nope. Leaving the room, the three of them were left with a few very pregnant moments silence passing between them. Keith couldn't take knowing what was coming. He'd very nearly avoided a panic of his own under Shiro's words. Lance seemed to know whatever was going on wasn't something he wanted to talk about, and Shiro... had flicked out the blanket and was now laying it over Lance's bed. Which was supposed to be his job. He didn't want Shiro's stupid scent on his boyfriend's sheets "What is this about? Can you just spit it out already? Did you get data off the ship from the samples? Is that it?" Lance let out a dry laughed before continuing "So what are you here to laugh at me about? The drugs or what Allura did to my body? Or is it the torture? I had the feeling they filmed it... Maybe... How I fucked up and nearly got Keith killed? There's few things that make Keith cry, and with how guilty he looks, it's not something small" Keith wanted to tell Lance to shut up. His tone hurt to hear, as did him exposing all his secrets to Shiro... He hadn't thought about the fact their sample data may still exist with the outpost being destroyed, but it made sense to him that the data would have been sent on before the scene of their crimes were erased. From how Kre'el opened a wormhole, their had to be a secondary location she'd had in mind. Pulling the vial from his pocket again, Shiro held it up for Lance to see "You told him?" There was that disappointment again... this time from Lance "Keith didn't tell me. When you refused pain medication, I examined the video from this room. For privacy I had the sound turned off, but for security I left the cameras on given the prisoners we have onboard from the ship and from the mining moon the ship crashed on" Lance let out a small "oh" as he nodded "So you know I'm a drug addict?" "Keith told me how it happened. That they drugged you during torture?" "Yep. Can't just quit the stuff because it'll shut down my body if I do" Keith shifted, he didn't want Lance to hate him. He knew Shiro was only being so hard because he cared, but... he didn't know what to do or say in this moment "Lance... I'm sorry this happened to you, but why didn't you tell any of us? We could have gotten you help sooner. This could have seriously complicated your surgery. We nearly lost you... we all nearly lost you" Crossing his arms, Lance huffed "Geez Shiro, why would any want to brag that they were addicted to drugs. That I needed them to get through the fucking day. Let me just casually drop that into a group call. Hey guys, guess what? I'm a fucking druggy who's fucked in the head. Even got that touch of brain damage to prove it. Yeah. Because it's that fucking easy when you were enjoying your lives without me. Also, I heard you. I heard you yelling at Keith. I think the whole fucking floor heard you yelling at him. If you've got a problem with me, then you talk to me. You don't sneak around stealing things from my ship, and you especially don't take it out on Keith when he has been trying his hardest to get me off them. I know you worry for him, but he's the same damn age as when you went missing off Pluto. I don't want you fighting or yelling because of some waste of space like I am" "Lance, that's not what I think at all..." "Babe, no. No, you're not a waste of space" Their words overlapped. Keith could understand Lance lashing out. A tiny bit maybe even pleased that his boyfriend had scolded Shiro for yelling at him "Lance, when I saw you on that ship, cradled in Coran's arms I realised how close we'd come to losing you. I couldn't pull Keith out the healing pod... and I didn't know what to do. I don't know what to do now. I'm honestly scared for you. Scared that this could lead to you dying. And I'm scared of Keith being dragged into a situation like he did in those foster homes. There's safer ways to come off of the drugs. I know you rely on Keith, but I'm worried about the strain it'll cause on both of you" "Shiro, I'm not a kid. Not anymore. I appreciate that you came at Keith's message, and I appreciate what you've done for both of us. But this, isn't your problem. That's why you're not listed as my next of kin and Keith is in charge of my medical decisions. You should forget you saw this. It's being handled" Shiro was trying. Keith knew he was trying. He still held that anger from being kept out of the loop on this, but he was trying in his own way to make Lance see that he wanted to be there for him. Raising his head, he swallowed hard at the expression on Lance's face. It was getting too much for him "I can't forget something like this Lance. And pushing it aside isn't going to help. I care about you. Please rely on me. Please let me help you. I want to help you" "I know! You weren't supposed to know! We were working on it... weren't we?" Red-rimmed eyes looked to Keith for comfort. A hand shyly moving to pat the space next to him. Forcing himself forward, Keith climbed up into the bed, Lance curling into him as he held him tightly, nuzzling into the soft curve of the Cuban's neck as pained scent poured from his love. Shaking, his emotions were bubbling up, the dam breaking as he cried softly "We were, baby. We are. You've done so good. I'm so sorry... I didn't want... I didn't want to tell another secret" "No... shhh, I understand. I'm sorry... I'm not strong enough to..." "You are strong. So strong..." Shifting Lance's legs up and between his, Keith positioned Lance so he was leaning against his chest. The angle better for Lance's lungs "I want to die... I'm so tired... of being disappointment" "When we get to Altean, we're going to get some help. I'm not going anywhere" "It's so busy in my head... I crave it so badly..." "I know" Because he did. Lance didn't need to spend vargas explaining himself. He got it. He wasn't oblivious to the physical pain... but Lance was working so hard at being clean of everything he could be clean of. Working so hard not to keep falling apart and to find a way to keep breathing... despite what he might think or how he might act "I thought you forget... no... no one came to... to talk to me" "You thought I forgot you need help? I thought it might be easier on New Altea. Away from here" "I don't want to leave with everything how it is" "I know" "I don't know how long I'll be the in pod... I hate them. I hate them so much... I don't want to wake up. I don't want to... miss more time" "Babe, I'm not going anywhere. We're accidental married remember. I can't let someone swoop in and whoo my husband out from under me" Lance gave him a wet laugh that sounded like music to Keith's ears "Never. Never... no one but you" They'd forgotten they had an audience. Both of them crying softly as they nuzzled, seeking comfort from the person they loved the most. "I... should be going then... Lance, I want to help you. So think about it, please. Anything I can do... I respect you. And I respect what you went through. I know Daehra doesn't like me, but your team... you've got a pretty amazing team. You're a good leader. I was wrong. It was wrong of me to think I understood things better than you did. Especially out in this area of space. The work you did here, it made a real difference. And you should be proud of that. I'm sorry for ambushing you over this. We nearly lost you and I didn't want to lose you to something like this... something that I could be there for..." Sniffling and hiccuping, Lance was the kindest soul he knew. Touches had been setting him off, as had certain smells, but reaching out his busted arm, he bit his lip at pain as he waved Shiro into a hug. Shiro hugging into Keith more than Lance, most probably out of respect. Sniffling as his eyes grew wet, Shiro was just as bad as the two of them "So, accidental husband's?" Lance let out a laugh "We... didn't know we were getting married at the time. There was this alien princess who stood had us stand in this gold ring and drink this horrible wine stuff..." Kissing Lance's cheek, Keith nodded "It was Daehra's little sister Annla. We got married on their planet before we came back for Hunk and Shay's engagement party. We're still working us out... but yeah, accidentally married the best guy in the universe" "You mean the only guy who could love your mullet" "It's not a mullet" "You could grow it down to your arse and it'll always be a mullet" "That's it. If I stay with the pair of you any longer, I'm going to catch your idiocy. Lance... please, even if it's Coran. Let him in?" "Coran... knows most of it... not... not all of it... but he knows most of it" What Coran did know, Keith didn't. They'd talked before Lance had developed the secondary infection and a little after, privately "That's a really good start. I'm sorry I came down so hard on both of you. You're both like brothers to me" "Thank you, Shiro. And can you keep the whole marriage thing a secret? Hunk would kill me. He already tried to kick me out when Lance was having a panic attack" Lance didn't respond. Shiro didn't seem to notice as he detached from the hug and passed over the two very melted milkshakes. Giving Keith's shoulder on last pat, his brother left them. When the door to his room closed, Lance let out a groan "Babe?" "I fucking hate this" "What?" "He apologised and I know I should feel better or some shit, but I don't know how to feel. I've been so fucking mad at him. He said it was for security but I feel like it was because I'm such a fuck up... I don't even know if he would have come and got me... and... Kre'el... why not transfer her? How's their investigation going? Have they been to Erathus? I feel like... like he can't trust me with any of it... I have... so many... I didn't want to burden you... I..." Lance's breathing was becoming uneven. Rubbing his back with his free hand, Keith sighed softly "No, babe. No. I don't know what Shiro is doing, or why he's running things like that, but there's so many things happening at the moment. I don't doubt he cares for you" "It's... hard to let anyone else in. I feel so weak" "I promise you, secret husband of mine, you're strong as hell" "I take it you're the one who let it slip?" "I'm sorry. Shiro... he brought up some feelings I haven't really dealt with properly. From my time in the system... you know, that disappointed tone that only parents can give" "I'm so sorry, babe. I heard him... and I didn't understand it all. How did he even get the vial?" "I don't know. He shouldn't have called us out like that. It's none of his business" "He's your brother. He's worried for you. Especially after what you went through in the system. God. I wish I could back in time and met you sooner. I wish I hadn't picked so many fights with you... I hate that you went through that" "I hate that you're still suffering" "You're suffering too. I don't like bringing all these memories back for you either. Do you maybe want to tell me?" No. Hell no. Lance was down on himself as it was. Hearing Keith's messed up childhood was the last thing he needed... So why wasn't that what came out? "Only if you want to listen" What. No. Lance didn't need to put up with him continuing to cry just because Shiro hit too close to home "Keith, I want to know everything about you... when you're ready. Not when Shiro has scared the quiznak out of you. I can smell your fear all over you. Don't push yourself" Keith let out a deep breath of relief, Lance smacking him playfully with his milkshake "It's not that I don't want to tell you" "You'll tell me when you're ready. Believe me, as the messed up one, I get it. Can we finish these then can you help me shower, Daehra won't let shower alone? It's not Shiro's fault but his scent is setting me off" "I... don't like his scent on you either. We could skip the milkshakes?" Lance shook his head, clipping Keith's chin as he did in his enthusiasm. Cringing back, Lance frowned at him "You promised bed and chocolate... and I might be trying to hard right now not to start crying because you're being too nice to me" "You most definitely deserve me being nice. I know you didn't tell Shiro yourself, but you didn't run away and that was brave" Rolling his eyes at him, Keith was glad to see the sass "Do you ever like... get sick of being so disturbingly nice?" "When it comes to you, not really" "You're killing me here. None of my lines are as smooth as you" Waiting until Lance had raised the straw of his milkshake, Keith let himself smirk internally. If his accidental husband wanted him smooth, he was getting smooth "Maybe when we get to Altea, I can take you on a date? We could watch the sunset, just you and me?" Lance choked hard on his milkshake, the cold liquid spilling into Keith's crotch. Flailing and trying to escape the freezing feeling against his junk, both their milkshakes went everywhere. Lance laughing as hard as he was coughing. Keith left standing by his boyfriend's bed with his sweat pants around his ankles. He'd been aiming for smooth, yet... this was so much nicer.

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