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rainingpouringetc · 3 years

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so hug all your friends and let them know you’re not letting go

ch 4 - sing me a song, tell me your thoughts / i could listen to you all night long (pt 2)

read on ao3

The next morning was quite pleasant for Ariadne. She woke to find Grace already in the dining room—unusual for the girl who usually preferred to flit about like a ghost. They had stayed up until midnight the previous night exchanging stories of their childhoods. Ariadne had missed thinking of India. She had told Alastair about it at his request, and at hers he’d spoken of Persia. This had been different from that, though. This had been less about the place itself and more the family she’d left behind. Grace had left family, too—or had family leave her. The feeling was familiar; it pooled in Ariadne’s gut when she was left alone with the thoughts. Having someone to pick them apart with helped.

The girls ate breakfast together, chatting aimlessly about the weather and the food and anything else they could think of. Mr. and Mrs. Bridgestock were, graciously, away for the week. There was some business they were tending to somewhere else in the country. Ariadne had long since stopped trying to make sense of her father’s trips.

They stumbled awkwardly into a brief discussion of the day’s plans, finding that neither of them had any designs beyond breakfast.

“Well,” Ariadne said carefully, “would you perhaps like to train with me today, then? I could use a partner.”

Grace seemed taken aback. “Oh! Well, sure, I suppose. I must admit,” she said sheepishly, looking down at her plate, “I have very little in the way of training. I’m not sure I could be of much help to you.”

Ariadne brightened immediately. “Of course you can! I could teach you, if you like. I always thought the best way to practice something you already know is by teaching it to somebody else.”

“I agree,” Grace said with a smile.

They agreed to meet in the drawing room after changing into gear. Grace was surprisingly quick to go up the stairs, though she never lost that elegant smoothness in her stride. Ariadne lingered a moment in the dining room, her heart thumping painfully.

There were many thoughts going through her head, bumping into each other and leaving little space for much else. She barely knew Grace, and here she was offering to train her. Their friendship—if it could be called that—was moving awfully fast. Though, things had moved rather fast with Alastair as well. Perhaps they were all so starved for friendship that they were wiling to try to bond with anyone who showed the barest speck of interest.

That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

Ariadne sighed and wished Alastair was there. He was better at this than she was, though one may not think it. If Alastair liked someone, or thought he did at least, he could keep a conversation going well enough. Ariadne had always struggled with small talk—it seemed so frivolous and unnecessary. She hoped Grace would feel the same.

When she and Alastair had first started testing their friendship, Ariadne had relied heavily on him to guide the conversation. He’d wanted to know about Anna, and she’d told him—then he’d told her about Charles before she could figure out if she was supposed to ask. He’d also mentioned Thomas vaguely, though how exactly he felt for the man hadn’t come out until much later.

Ariadne smiled fondly at the memories as she ascended the stairs and looked for her gear. Alastair was, surprisingly, a bit of a mess when it came to Thomas Lightwood. Usually so calm and collected, he stumbled over his words when he tried to explain what it was like falling for someone who hated him so thoroughly. It’s not as though it could ever work, anyway, Alastair had said with false casualness. I doubt Thomas is even interested in men.

Only one way to find out, she’d teased. It had earned her a pillow in the face, but it had certainly been worth it.

As she carefully slipped into her gear, she wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps this was what having a sibling was like. She and Alastair got on so well, it was almost a shock whenever she remembered they hadn’t really known each other all that well until a month ago.

A knock startled the memories from her grasp. She finished buckling all that need buckling and opened the door to find a sheepish Grace still in her morning dress. “I’m sorry to bother,” she said before Ariadne could so much as draw breath, “it’s just I’ve realized I don’t actually have any gear.”

Ariadne frowned. It had been quite a few minutes since Grace had disappeared upstairs—what had she been doing all this time?

Seeming to read the question on her face, Grace glanced at her hands and said, “I’d have said something sooner, it’s just… I’m sorry. I didn’t not want you to think less of me as a Shadowhunter.”

Most people did, Ariadne was coming to realize.

She smiled as gently as she could and held open her door, gesturing for Grace to follow as she strode to the closet. “I’m sure I have some old gear that will fit you.” Grace was a few inches shorter than her, but sure enough, there was some gear she’d outgrown when she was fourteen at the very back. Ariadne pulled it out and handed it to Grace. “Do you need any help with it?” she asked.

Grace shook her head quickly. “No. Thank you for offering. I have worn it before, I simply have none of my own.”

“Well, now you do,” Ariadne said, indicating the gear in Grace’s hands.

Grace smiled, and it made her look much prettier, Ariadne thought. This was quite a feat, seeing as how she was already quite gorgeous. It was as though it thawed something in Grace’s features, making her seem warm and kind. Ariadne decided to make it a priority to make Grace smile more.

After Grace changed, they headed outside. Ariadne was increasingly excited about the prospect of training Grace.

She figured they could start with fighting stances, then move on to hand-to-hand, then staffs.

Grace was surprisingly competent about stances and hand-to-hand for what little experience she’d claimed to have. They were able to move on from instruction quickly enough and begin sparring. Neither of them could quite get the advantage, Ariadne because she was holding back to spare Grace’s feelings, and Grace because she simply had no real experience.

Eventually, Ariadne managed to hook her foot behind Grace’s knee and pull, causing her to fall flat on her back. Unfortunately, this put Grace in the prime position to grab Ariadne’s legs and bring her down as well. They collapsed on top of each other in a fit of giggles.

“Truce?” Grace gasped, struggling to keep her composure as she struggled to a sitting position. She extended her hand.

Ariadne eyed it from where she was propped up on her elbows, then grasped it and shook solidly. “Truce.”

They giggled again, helped each other stand, and began brushing themselves off. There was a fair amount of dirt and grass stains on Grace’s gear; Ariadne made a mental note to help her clean it off later.

“Pardon me, Miss Bridgestock,” came a soft, motherly voice from the house door. Ariadne turned to find their maid, Mrs. Webster, watching them with a smile. Her dark hair was streaked with gray—Ariadne wondered when that had happened. She could’ve sworn it hadn’t been that way earlier this year. “I don’t mean to interrupt, miss, but there’s a young man by the name Mr. Carstairs here to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room whenever you finish.”

“Oh.” It was all she could say. She turned to find Grace’s face had gone cold again. “Do you mind wrapping up for the day?”

Grace looked at her with steely eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Oh. All right. Er—let me know if you need anything, then.” Before she had even finished speaking, Grace was turning on her heel and pushing past Mrs. Webster.

Confused and greatly disheartened by the sudden loss of all the progress she’d made with Grace, Ariadne followed the maid inside and began walking toward the drawing room. She was stopped by a hand gripping her shoulder and spun around sharply to find Mrs. Webster staring at her with what could only be described as horror. “Miss Bridgestock, you are not truly going to entertain company in your fighting gear, are you?”

Ariadne blinked at her and let out a laugh. “It’s just Alastair, Mrs. Webster.”

“Ohhh, just Alastair, is it?” Mrs. Webster’s next look was far too knowing for Ariadne’s liking.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said lightly. “He’s a friend. He probably just wants to talk for a bit, he won’t mind if I’m not dressed properly.”

“Your parents would mind,” Mrs. Webster replies meaningfully. “Especially after that whole ordeal with Mr. Fairchild and Miss Blackthorn—please, dear.” She gripped Ariadne’s arm. “For my peace of mind.”

It was a fair argument. Ariadne still had some semblance of a reputation to maintain. Figuring she might as well humor the old woman, Ariadne let out a sigh and headed toward the stairs. It took her several annoyingly long minutes to change out of her gear and find a suitable dress, and by the time she finished, she’d almost forgotten about Grace.

That was, until she stepped out of her room and found Grace glaring at her by the staircase, dressed in a dazzling display of lilac and silver. “I wish to speak to Alastair with you,” she said simply, then turned so fast her hair splayed out behind her and descended the stairs soundlessly as ever.

Ariadne followed, swallowing heavily and wondering what she was getting herself into.

Alastair was standing already when they entered the room, examining the various paintings they had hanging on the walls. There was a jacket on the couch, which was odd—it wasn’t one that looked like it belonged to Alastair. He turned and, upon seeing Ariadne, did that thing where he very nearly smiled—his face relaxed and the corners of his mouth, rather than pointing down at an alarming angle, evened out into a straight line.

Then he caught sight of Grace, and his jaw tensed again. “Good morning Ariadne, Miss Blackthorn,” he nodded politely. His eyes lingered on Grace for a moment before he shot a displeased look at Ariadne. She shrugged, eyes wide, and gestured to the settee.

Alastair sat on the end farthest from the armchair Grace was occupying, gathering the strange jacket into his arms, leaving Ariadne to sigh irritatedly and sit in the middle of them to mediate.

“How are you this morning, Alastair?” Ariadne asked blandly.

“Fine. Thank you.”

There was silence for a long moment.

Ariadne was about to comment on the weather—really, she should not have been allowed to ever attempt anything resembling small talk—when Alastair glanced and Grace, then back at her, and said, “Pardon me if this is out of line, but I had been hoping to discuss something privately with you, Ariadne. If this is a bad time, I can come by in the afternoon.”

He made to stand, but before he could, Grace interrupted, “Are you doing anything today, Mr. Carstairs?”

He looked stunned, the lowered himself back onto the couch. “Well, that’s actually what I wished to discuss with Ariadne. I did not want to be rude in excluding anyone from the conversation.”

Ariadne nearly winced at his tone. It was clear he had not wanted to include Grace in whatever he had planned.

“Just tell me,” she whispered. When Alastair glanced over her shoulder at Grace, she said, “It’s fine.”

Alastair sighed through nose and held up the jacket. “I ran into Christopher Lightwood last night.” A dozen questions raced through Ariadne’s head—where? when? why?—but before she could voice any of them, he was saying, “It’s a long story for another time, but I ended up with this—” he shook the jacket “—and I don’t know what to do.”

“The jacket is Christopher’s?” Ariadne questioned first.

“Thomas’s,” he corrected quietly.

Ariadne sucked in a breath and nodded in understanding. That would explain it, then.

“You should return it, then,” Grace said slowly. Alastair’s eyes slid over to hers blankly. “I could help, if you wish,” she continued, sitting up straighter. “Be a distraction. The Merry Thieves are far more cross with me than they are with you, I suspect.”

Ariadne looked between the two, waiting. After a few seconds, Alastair’s face softened again, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I would appreciate that. Thank you, Miss Blackthorn.”

“Please, Mr. Carstairs, call me Grace.”

Alastair narrowed his eyes even as he smiled. “Well. Then you must call me Alastair.”

Grace smiled fully, then, the warm smile from early that morning. Ariadne understood suddenly why the coldness had crept back when Mrs. Webster had announced Alastair’s arrival. She hadn’t wanted to be shut out by their friendship. The best solution, clearly, was to bring her into it, then.

“When do we leave?” Ariadne asked with an air of adventure, standing with her hands on her hips and looking between the two.

Alastair shrugged. “Now?”

They looked at Grace, who nodded, grinning. “Now.”

*hides* i’m sorry this took so long lol. pls tell me ur thoughts on mrs webster :) (more christopher to come i promise)

tagging @ohcoolnice @stxr-thxif @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @eugeniaslongsword @clockworknights @writeforjordelia @axoloteca @ninacarstairss @lifewouldbebetteronmars lmk if i forgot you or if you’d like to be added or if you want to be removed, i’m so disorganized at this point lol

#tlh #the last hours #tlh fanfic #ariadne bridgestock #kamala joshi #grace blackthorn #alastair carstairs #artie tries to write #shayf fic #this is unedited be nice to me

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starr234 · 4 years

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Flufftober Day 4 - Wounded

The last thing Firmus Piett expected to see upon entering Lord Vader’s quarters was Luke Skywalker asleep on the couch.

His jaw dropped, and so did the stack of datapads in his hands. He fumbled them for a moment, nearly caught them, and then they hit the floor with a clatter.

This was it, then. This was how he died. Because whatever the explanation was for this, he was certain Lord Vader wouldn’t be inclined to share it with him.

Unwilling to leave a mess as his last legacy, Piett knelt and began gathering the datapads with numb fingers. One had bounced across the floor out of reach, and before he could lean forward to retrieve it, it lifted off the ground.

Piett stared as the datapad floated lazily towards him, forcing himself to take it and add it to the stack as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring. As if a prominent member of the Empire’s Most Wanted List and Lord Vader’s personal obsession wasn’t propped up against a pile of pillows on Lord Vader’s couch with a blanket wrapped around him, blinking sleepily up at Piett with his hair sticking out at odd angles.

“That last one got away from you,” Skywalker said, then yawned. He at least had the good grace to cover his mouth and look embarassed. “I hope it’s not broken.”

“I’m...er...I’m sure it’s fine,” Piett responded. He tightened his grip on the treacherous datapads and stood straight, considering his next move. If this was a trap for Lord Vader, it was an extraordinarily bad one. He’d quite literally caught Skywalker sleeping on the job.

Still, Skywalker was a Jedi, and had obviously captured Lord Vader’s attention for a reason. It was best not to underestimate him. Even if he did look remarkably young and slight, stretched out on a couch that Piett had never seen anyone use before.

He knew better than most, appearances could be deceiving.

“You seem surprised,” Skywalker remarked.

“Candidly, yes.” Piett sat the stack of datapads on a small table by the door. Best to have his hands free, just in case. “I am accustomed to finding Rebel spies in our ranks, but not sleeping in Lord Vader’s quarters.”

The boy laughed softly. “I’m no spy. And you can stop worrying.” He pulled the blanket back, revealing a cast encasing his right leg. “I’m not much of a threat right now.”

Piett kept his gaze steady. Appearances, and all that. “You’ll forgive me for disagreeing.”

Skywalker shrugged. “Up to you. You’re looking for Vader?”

“Lord Vader and I have a briefing at 1900, yes.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “It’s 1900 already?”

“Past, by now.”

“He’s late. He should have been back ages ago.” Skywalker closed his eyes, his brow furrowed and his face drawn with worry. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was blank and unseeing. Just as Piett was starting to worry, the boy blinked, shook his head and focused back on Piett. “I can’t find him,” he said. “This isn’t right. Can you com him? He might be--”

“Stop,” Piett said firmly. Skywalker, for all that he wasn’t a member of the Imperial Navy and likely held no respect for Piett’s authority, stopped. “Under no circumstances will I com Lord Vader at the request of the Rebel I found in his quarters unless you explain to me exactly what is going on here.”

The boy looked well and truly frightened now. Perhaps his ruse, whatever it was, was starting to unravel. “You know what the Force is, right?”

“Yes.” Jedi and their bygone religion were strictly taboo subjects in the Imperial ranks, but one didn’t survive in Lord Vader’s service for long without developing a healthy respect for his strange abilities.

“Vader and I can both use it. It lets us...it’s hard to explain, but we can sense each other. We can use it to communicate, and to track each other’s locations.” His expression softened for a moment. “It’s how he found me when I hurt my leg.”

Piett was more open-minded than his predecessor had been, but even he drew the line somewhere. “Are you trying to tell me that the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy is secretly communicating with a Rebel Jedi using his mind?”

Skywalker looked pained. “I told you, it’s hard to explain. And we weren’t secretly communicating. Until a few days ago it was mostly him talking and me ignoring him.”

“I see,” Piett said flatly.

“No,” the boy exclaimed, “you don’t! He always answers when I reach out, always. And he’s not answering now and I can’t sense him, which means he’s either shielding or something’s happened to him.”

“Shielding?”

“It’s...” Skywalker puffed out an exasperated breath. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. You have shields around this ship protecting her from things trying to harm her - asteroids and proton torpedoes, things like that. We can do the same thing, to protect our minds from intruders.”

“Perhaps,” Piett suggested dryly, “Lord Vader is occupied with something which he doesn’t want a member of the Rebel Alliance ‘intruding’ on.”

Skywalker looked stricken, and so young. How could this boy, barely into adulthood, be responsible for so many Imperial lives? “I know you don’t trust me,” he said. “You have no reason to, and my--Vader wouldn’t trust you so much if you were easily fooled. But hasn’t he ever given you an order that didn’t make sense, that was based on one of his hunches or feelings, and it turned out to be correct? That’s the Force. I have the same hunches and feelings, and right now they’re telling me that something is wrong.”

His voice was completely earnest, and layered iwth a depth of emotion Piett couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Please,” he added softly.

Piett understood the Imperial system better than anyone. He knew all too well that military protocol demanded Skywalker be arrested, if not shot on sight. Conversing with him, comming Lord Vader at his request, was beyond foolish. A junior officer making a mistake like this would have been stripped of his rank, either officially or through Lord Vader’s alternative methods of staff management.

But Piett had not become an admiral through blind adherence to protocol, least of all where Lord Vader’s hunt for Skywalker was concerned. The efforts expended always seemed to far outweigh any strategic benefits to be gained by Skywalker’s capture, but they had carried on relentlessly.

Which suggested, Piett knew, that there was more to Lord Vader’s obsession than military strategy. The way he had stared into space after the Millenium Falcon had impossibly escaped from the trap laid at Cloud City, then walked off the bridge as if he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

The way Skywalker looked at him now, eyes wide and pleading.

There was something here that he didn’t fully understand. But, like Skywalker had said, sometimes, when it came to Lord Vader, the right course of action didn’t always make sense.

He took out his comlink. Relief washed over Skywalker’s face. “One last question,” Piett said. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

Skywalker looked perplexed. “I broke my leg.”

Piett wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes, but years of military training stopped him. “You’re Luke Skywalker,” he said, “and I found you sleeping, unguarded and unrestrained, in Darth Vader’s quarters. Why are you here?”

“Ohhh,” Skywalker said, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that his presence would raise questions. “He knows I’m here, if that’s what you’re asking. He brought me here.”

“Are you a prisoner?”

A fleeting, pained expression crossed the boy’s face. “I don’t know.”

Piett nodded. This was enough. It would have to be. He had a feeling asking more questions - learning anything more about this strange boy and his place in Lord Vader’s life - would be hazardous to his health.

He activated his comlink. Before he could enter Lord Vader’s frequency, the boy gasped softly. Piett lowered the comlink in alarm. “What is it?”

“He’s--”

The door slid open and Lord Vader entered. Piett snapped to attention as Vader paused just inside the doorway.

“Admiral.” There was a warning note in his voice that Piett had heard too many times before.

“Lord Vader,” he said. His voice was steady and his heart rate was normal. He had learned long ago that fear only sharpened Lord Vader’s temper. “I apologize. I arrived for our 1900 briefing and--”

“And you weren’t here,” Skywalker interrupted. “He was just about to com you for me.”

Lord Vader tilted his head. “I was delayed over an hour. Why did you wait until now?”

Skywalker’s cheeks flushed and he glanced down at the blanket covering his legs. “I fell asleep,” he muttered.

There was a soft noise from Lord Vader’s respirator, one Piett had never heard before. He walked over to the couch and smoothed down Skywalker’s unruly hair. The boy closed his eyes and put his own hand over Vader’s.

Piett began mentally putting his affairs in order.

“I apologize, little one.”

Piett moved on to listing all the people he would have said goodbye to.

“I couldn’t sense you. Are you alright? Where were you?”

“Having a conversation where I could not be interrupted, and where it was imperative that your presence not be detected.”

Skywalker went very pale. “You mean--”

“Yes,” Lord Vader said. “You are not safe here anymore.”

The boy’s grip on the black-gloved hand tightened. “What do we do?”

“Not now, Luke.” He turned to Piett, who held his head high and hoped it would be quick. “Admiral, your decision to hear Skywalker out rather than arrest him was sound.”

“I--” For a moment Piett wasn’t sure what was happening. “Thank you, Lord Vader.”

“I trust you will continue to show the same good judgment in the future.”

There was no mistaking Lord Vader’s meaning, and only one answer that would keep him alive. “I will, my lord.”

“Good. There is a Corellian VCX-Series fighter in my personal hangar. Have it refueled and fully provisioned before the morning shift.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Are you sending me away?” Skywalker interjected softly.

“Dismissed, Admrial,” Lord Vader said, then turned back to Skywalker as if Piett had ceased to exist. “Not by choice, little one.”

Piett didn’t hear Skywalker’s murmered answer. He was already moving - was lucky to be alive - was halfway through the door when Skywalker called out to him.

“Admiral Piett?”

He turned, remembered belatedly that he knew the boy’s rank. “Yes, Commander?”

Skywalker smiled faintly at the title. “Thank you for listening. Instead of arresting me, I mean.”

Piett wanted to tell Skywalker to take care not to fall asleep out in the open again, that other officers would not be as patient as he had been. But Lord Vader’s hand rested heavily on the boy’s shoulder, so he simply nodded and said, “of course.”

The door slid shut, leaving him finally, mercifully alone in the corridor. He stood very still, allowing himself a moment to try to make sense of what just happened.

Piett had never seen Lord Vader show a shred of kindness to anyone before, much less receive kindness from anyone who wasn’t looking for something in return. Why had Skywalker spent the last three years running if this was how they behaved towards one another?

Maybe Skywalker, like Piett, hadn’t known that Lord Vader was capable of kindness.

Skywalker seemed to have made his decision. It was time for Piett to make his.

He could tend to the Corellian fighter as Lord Vader had commanded, undoubtedly committing treason and helping a wanted criminal return to the Rebellion. Or he could contact Imperial Centre - for that was surely who Lord Vader’s private conversation had been with - inform them that a Rebel Jedi was secreted away on board his ship, and be responsible for destroying the heart he hadn’t known Lord Vader to have until just minutes ago.

It was no decision at all, really.

Piett straightened his collar and set off. He had precious little time left before he was due back on the bridge.

But it was time enough to refuel a starfighter.

#y'all this is the first time I've written Piett #or written this much fluff #and it was SO FUN #my fic #sw fic #fictober 2020 #flufftober #flufftober 2020 #admiral piett #firmus piett #let admiral piett rest #luke skywalker #darth vader

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aesthetical-bucky · 4 years

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The Neighbour Upstairs (Four)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Six months into your relationship, Bucky gives you a velvet box and you spend your first night with Bucky.

Warnings: Mild language, Oral sex (fem!receiving), Smut 18+, Fluff.

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Notes: Say, Aery! What the hell is this? Posting two parts to your series in ONE day? I know, I know. I have so much time on my hands! Every part including this one has smut though hahaha! Sorry not sorry about that.

Every Friday for the six months you were together, around 4pm. Bucky would knock on your door with a bunch of red, pink or occasionally yellow roses and take you out to a romantic dinner and a trip to the beach or sometimes he would take you to the movies, depending entirely on the weather.

During dinner he picked out a velvet box from his pocket and you panicked. He chuckled at your expression.

“Relax, it’s not what you think.” He reassured you. And you sighed, but were you disappointed or more nervous?

Bucky reached across the table and grabbed a hold of your hand and turned it so your palm was facing upwards. He gently sat the box in the middle and told you to open it.

With shaky hands, you managed to open the lid to the box and inside was a… silver key? Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, as you looked at your smirking boyfriend.

“It’s a key.” He affirmed.

“Wow! Shit, really? I thought it was a silver pirate’s tooth!” You sassed back, amusing him. “What does it unlock? And I swear if you say something cheesy like ‘my heart’, we’re never having sex.”

Bucky laughed and pinched his nose.

“Doll, I gotta tell you, once you have Bucky’s cock, you’ll never stop.” He smirked and pointed two fingers to his crotch.

You groaned when you noticed two old ladies on the table behind you had turned around and chuckled at his words and he laughed with them.

“Hi ladies.” He gave a cheeky smile before turning back to you, “Doll, it’s the key to my apartment. No point paying rent on two apartments. Especially when we’re sleeping in each other's places anyway, and besides I have the best view of the mountains.” You knew he had a point. The sunset over those mountains was something else.

You stayed with Bucky that night, and you were cuddled up in bed with your head on his chest. Your hand stroked the hairs on his chest and your fingers tickled down his tummy, following his happy trail. And you didn’t know whether it was the romantic candles in the background causing a sexual atmosphere, but you couldn’t stop your hands from grasping his member. Bucky hissed and bucked his hips in your hand.

“Baby, we don’t have to do anything.” He panted as your hand slipped inside his boxers. You squeezed his hard cock gently and your hand moved up and down his hard shaft. The vein on the underside pulsating in your hand as your thumb moved over the slit on his tip, eliciting a loud moan from him.

“Fuck it.” He said and pulled your hand away. At first, you were scared you did something he didn’t like, since you never really discussed when the right time would be. But when Bucky hovered above you and pulled your sleep shorts down and positioned his head between your thighs, you weren’t complaining.

Your fingers raked through his shoulder length locks as Bucky flattened his tongue against your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your throbbing nerves. You moaned and tugged on his hair, which encouraged Bucky to keep at the pace he was going.

Bucky pulled moan after moan from you, he didn’t rush and took his time savouring you and really tasting you. His fingers teased your entrance before he pushed one in, maneuvering it around against your walls. When he felt you were ready, he added a second finger and rubbed against your sweet spot in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“Oh Bucky, oh my god!” You mewled loudly, your chest heaving as he brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Oh baby, please don’t stop, I’m so close!” You begged.

Bucky’s fingers sped up, it should have been illegal to know how expertly he was rubbing against that one specific spot, like he didn’t have to go searching for it. His tips immediately found it. You were panting heavily, the buildup in your lower tummy was fast approaching and your hips were arched more into his mouth. The squelching noises against your wetness from his fingers and his tongue were just obscene. And you were close, you were almost there, the coil was snapping when he suddenly pulled away and you wailed so loudly.

“You BASTARD! I was there!”

Bucky laughed, your arousal dripped from his chin as he lowered his boxers and threw them somewhere in the room. He flipped you over onto your tummy, your ass high in the air and your legs spread apart.

“Patience baby girl, this will feel so much better.” He promised with a light spank to your right cheek and you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah right, I only- ohhh” You moaned as he slid inside, your wet walls welcoming him in with such ease. Bucky was so deep that his balls slapped lightly against your sensitive clit. “OHHH my GOD, you’re gonna make- have- multiple orgasms, Jesus, FUCK.” You whined as he picked up pace. His hands held firmly onto your waist as he plowed into you from behind. The room filled with your moans and his groans and skin on skin as he reached over to grab onto the headboard, causing him to hit a new angle and touch spots you’ve never felt in your life.

The lewd sounds of your wetness on his cock made you clench involuntarily around him and he moaned.

“Yes baby! Does it feel good huh? You’re so good to me, doll. Taking my cock like a good girl you are.” His praises were making you hot, along with the constant nudging of his tip against your G-spot.

Stars took over your vision and you had difficulties even moaning. Bucky was making you feel too good and that all familiar bellyache in your lower tummy was back, and you needed it to snap this time.

“Harder, Bucky!” You moaned into the duvet. Bucky complied and pulled almost all the way out, only to plow himself back in and that was enough. The tension in your tummy snapped and you gushed all over his cock. You released a silent scream as your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Shit baby!” He growled your release making Bucky cum as well. He stilled his hips as long, hot, sticky cum coated your insides.

Bucky collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he kissed down your shoulder. “The best I’ve ever had.” He remarked, pulling himself out of you and moaned as his cum mixed with your own coated his cock.

“We should take a bath baby.” He said and you just nodded, still dizzy from the mindblowing orgasm he just gave you with just his cock and nothing else.

Bucky ran a hot bath and carried you to the tub where he eased you in gently. He washed all your private bits with gentleness, knowing you were still tender and sore. Your head was laid on his shoulder with your back against his chest as you sat in between his spread legs. His fingers traced up and down your arm.

“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” You asked, for what reason you didn’t know.

“I hope so. What would you do if I ever got you pregnant?”

You smiled and intertwined your fingers with his.

“I don’t know. Too early to tell.” you chuckled, the warmth of the water soothing your mind.

Permanent Taglist: @criminal-cookies @hailmary-yramliah @godofplumsandthunder @marvelgirl7 @jobean12-blog @nano--raptor @the-wayward-robot @liam-rhys @becs-bunker @littleredstarfish @evanstanwrites

TNU Taglist (open): @scuzmunkie @xoasalxo @sweet-bumble-bee @sirenaurelix @winterboobear11

#the neighbour upstairs #aesthetical-bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #biker!bucky series #biker!au #series #part four #bucky barnes smut #aery writes #imagines #1.2k #updated #smut #james buchanan barnes

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years

Text

Catch The Mermaid

TV SHOW GAME OF THRONES

COUPLE JOJEN X READER X BRAN

RATING SMUT

I smiled as atlast we stopped for a moment throwing down my things and leaning against the tree, hodor doing much the same as me but laying on the ground proping brans cart by the tree, Meera came along close behind putting her things down and sitting on them jojen sighing sitting on the dirt catching his breath

"How much further?" Meera asks

"Where still at week out at best" I answered

"Make camp for tonight, where not going any further now" bran explained

Once we had all got some strength back we began setting up camp, bran helping as much as he could once we where all set up I took my things and headed down to a small stream close by having told Meera where I was going, once I arrived at the woodland stream I began to slip off my dress hanging all my clothes on a tree branch close by slowly stepping into the water it was cold but refreshing as I began to wash getting the caked dirt off my body and the mud and twigs from my hair once I was all clean I began to mostly just swim around in the sweet water, the cool crystal clear water flowing along downstream, around every inch and curve of my naked body, the trees high with a canopy of green to protect me from perverted eyes the sweet smell of earth and leaves in the air as I swam in the river and plaid around with my wet hair, until I thought I saw something just a little upstream but I thought little off it until I looked to the water and I could almost swear I saw a pair of brown eyes looking at me I looked away a little in fear until-

"Hello darling" I heard jojen smirk his hands already at my waist I quickly moved away covering myself with my hands

"Ohhh! Jojen! I'm sorry I didn't know-" I began

"Relax darling, you didn't do anything wrong" he laughs swimming over to me but I moved away trying my best to keep myself covered even if his bare chest and the amount of his pale skin under the water indicated to me he was less then dressed too

"Jojen stay away I'm not dressed" I giggled kicking his chest a little

"Aww I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I just came to bathe myself I didn't know you where here"

"Didn't you?" I laughed "why do I think that's a lie master reed?"

"It's Not a lie I promise darling"

"I think you where being a little pervert"

"Well... When a beautiful busty girls batheing completly naked in the river, how can I not wanna look at her?" He smirked trying to chase after me as I swam away

"Jojen no!" I giggled often splashing him

"Aww come on darling... I just wanna look" he pleads "how about this?" He smirked coming close to me "how about we play a little game?"

"Oohh? What game?" I asked

"Why don't we play a little game where I'd I show you something you have to show me something?"

"Ohh? And what sort of things would we be showing each other?" I smirked back

"Well... That depends doesn't it darling" he smirked "for example maybe if I... Showed you my cock? You'd have to show me your tits?"

"You could always ask you know" I smirked

"Ohh could I now?" He smirked "So would you let me see you darling? Without those teasing little hands of yours in my way?"

"No jojen"

"Even if I showed you without my hands in the way?"-

I was about to answer him but we headed steps heading our way I quickly hid myself away and so did jojen as we headed footsteps aproch the river I looked and saw hodor just leaving as he has dropped bran odd by the river's edge close to my clothes jojen was looking at me clearly trying to peak while I was distracted so I moved a hand flashing him my tits for a second, he was in shock but I noticed under the water his cock get harder then it already was, I looked at bran as he went close to my clothes and smiling

"Ummm y/n" he groans nuzzling closer to my dress

"Brandon what are you doing here?" I asked coming out keeping myself as covered as I could as I now had two sets of eyes to keep away from my naked body at completly different angles

"Oooh y/n!" He says in shock "nothing much I just came to bathe... What about you?"

"I came to bathe too" I smiled

"So did I" jojen piped up revealing he was here too

"Ooh... What are you too doing bathing together?" He asked clearly jealous

"Not together, I was bathing and someone came around being a little perv"

"Oohh... I see" he says "I can go if-"

"No bran stay... I was rather hoping you could help me"

"H-help you?" He stuttered a little excited

"Well you see boys I know you both only came down here to get a look at me" I giggled "so we're going to play a game"

"What sort of game darling?" Jojen smirked

"Catch the mermaid" I giggled swimming away hiding myself behind a corner "the rules are simple... If you catch the mermaid you get a kiss"

"How do we catch her?" Bran asked as he finished slipping his clothes off and climbed I to the water having hold of a branch stuck into the shore as he had much less mobility against the stream of water then jojen did

"Swim, but you have to keep your eyes closed" I giggled

"This doesn't seem fair darling" jojen smirked

"I like it" bran smiled they both closed there eyes and I stood giggling a moment as they both tried swimming around looking for me

"Ha! Got you darling!" Jojen laughed

"This is me jojen" bran complained "jojen! Stop rubbing your dick on me I'm not y/n"

"Just because your not y/n doesn't mean I don't wanna rub my cock on you?"

"Oooh boys" I giggled swimming closer to then not covering my at all

"Yes darling?" Jojen smirked coming close to me, I let him get his hands on me and he blushed a little "umm darling... Your not covering yourself up anymore?" He smirked trying to peak but I kissed him wrapping my arms around his neck pressing my lips to his try tasted like grass and mud like a earthy tea I pulled away and swam away again "she's naked" jojen whispered to bran

"Is she?" He smirked "like not covering her hands?"

"Completely" he smirked I giggled moving close to bran and he blushed and held me close

"Hi y/n" he blushed

"Hi bran" I smiled Kissing him he was sweet not as eager as jojen but still very excited to kiss me he tasted almost like ice a unearthly chill to his lips as soon as I pulled away I swam away

"Wait no come back" he pleads

We plaid a few more rounds in the twilight the boys getting much more handsy as the game went on till I smirked and got out the water

"Oooh boys" I smirked and they both opened there eyes and sat in shock seeing me naked as I stood on the river bank I covered my breasts with my but let them see everything else I could see bran was lost on his own little world looking at me and jojen was clearly jerking off looking at me "see you back at camp" I smirked blowing each of them a kiss and taking my clothes finding somewhere secret to get dressed.

I smiled putting my stuff down in the little place we found it would be nice to have a roof to rest under for once, I smirked seeing bran sat on the floor watching me I blew him a kiss and he blew me one too just as he did I felt a familiar hand on the small of my back

"Hello darling" jojen smirked giving my cheek a kiss

"Hands off jojen" I laughed pushing him away going over and giving bran a kiss which made jojen instantly jealous I smiled and went off to sort my stuff for a while

"Darling?" Jojen asked as he came over

"What is it jojen?" I smiled

"Me and bran want a word" he smirked so I followed him avoiding Meera and hodor sleeping he lead me to a small room where bran was waiting, the room was empty but a candle the two had clearly lit and a huge bathtub

"Hi y/n" bran blushed

"What's going on boys?" I asked

"Well we never did get to finish our game of catch the mermaid the other day?" Jojen smirked

"And we thought it might be fun in here" bran smirked back as I noticed the tub was full of fresh water

"Well you boys get sorted" I smiled going towards the back of the room they both stripped off and climbed in bran needing a bit of help from jojen to get in they both sat in the clear water so I went over and began slipping off my dress they both watched me careful jojen biting on his bottom lip as he watched me remove parts of my dress bran sat wide eyed and desperate to touch either me or himself I'm not sure he cared which I climbed in as far away from the boys as I could be they both closed there eyes and we tried to play but they both got hold of me opening there eyes

"Get off stark I got her"

"No you get off I had hold off her first"

"You did not you just grabbed her once I had hold of her!"

"You liar you snatched her from me!"

"Boys" I giggled "there's no reason to fight over me... I'm sure theres time for you both"

"Ohh is there darling?" Jojen smirked pulling me onto his lap and kissing me deeply I kissed back happily lightly grinding myself on him "ummmm darling..." He smirked pulling me closer but before he could do much else bran pulled me away to sit on his lap I could tell he was even more desperate that jojen was as he kissed me hard and lustfully I happily grinded on him too making him moan into my mouth till I was pulled away but not completely to jojen "I have an idea"

"What sort of idea?" I asked

"As our little y/n keeps torchering us maybe we should torcher her" bran smirked

"I'll take her first" jojen growled pulling me into his lap so my back was pressed against his chest within seconds he slipped inside me and I almost screamed if it hadn't been for bran kissing me I probably would have I held onto bran tightly as he kissed me and felt my breasts squeezing them and groping them as he kissed me all while jojen guided my hips so he could rapidly fuck me "does it feel good darling? All that time teasing us? Does it feel good having us fuck your slutty little pussy?"

"Come on my turn" bran smirked pulling me waist so jojen slipped out of me bran pulled me onto his lap slipping Inside me instantly he wasn't as long as jojen but much thicker I grabbed his neck as he bounced me over and over having to bite my neck as to not scream as jojen came behind me grinding his hard cock on my ass and kissing the other side of my neck

"Umm give her back, you've had enough time" jojen smirked pulling me back to him slipping inside me "humm darling? You like brans cock don't you? He made you so tight" he groans

"Or is it that our pretty girls gonna cum?" Bran smirked rubbing on my clit as he kissed me I almost squealed

"Ohh yeah she gonna cum, come on darling cum for us" jojen smirked getting faster until bran pulled me to sit on his lap my back against his chest this time as he was getting close his speed as much as jojens, bran felt up my ass as he fucked me and jojen kissed.me lustfully playing with my boobs and with my clit until I held jojen close kissing him as I peaked and almost screamed as I hit my orgasum bran held me tight as he felt me cum on his cock as soon as I caught my breath I was back in jojens lap,

This went on for what felt like forever I forgot how many orgasums I must have had I was beyond overwhelmed with pleasure in this lusty world where only jojen and bran existed I was there whore getting past between them like a fuck toy both of them just using anything they wanted of me I felt my insides where so strange as the boys seeds mixed Inside of me as well as my own juices as soon as one rode out an orgasum the other would be hard again passing me between them over and over making me cum over and over as they desperately fucked me

"Uuuhh you take her back, any more I'm gonna cum inside her pretty little pussy again" jojen moaned as he fucked me his thrusts slow and deep

"I can't, I'm still riding off the last one" bran groaned slowly jerking his cock

"Come on cum for me darling you know I can't cum till you do" jojen smirked rubbing on my clit so hard I shot into another uncontrollably and i felt him shot his seed Inside me he collapsed and bran did too all three of us colapsing in the now rather dirty water

"Fuck" bran smirked "we need to do that every night"

"We should..." Jojen smirked "we should play with our mermaid every night"

"Umm we should, maybe not tomorrow I think our little mermaid needs a rest" bran smirked

"And so do we" jojen laughed

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knightofthecourt · 4 years

Text

Shards - Part 5

Final one!

A Handful of Malec snippets, based on various prompts. Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane - Fluff and romance with a spot of angst.

41. Winter

“Don’t be mad.”

Magnus glanced up from the book he was reading, to the face of the Shadowhunter in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Why would I be mad?” he asked. When Alec didn’t answer he sighed and placed his book down on the coffee table. “Alexander?”

“I said don’t be mad.” The Shadowhunter narrowed his eyes and then glanced down.

Magnus followed his gaze and noticed an odd-shaped lump in Alec’s jacket.

“What is that?” Magnus asked, alarmed. He stood up and took a step towards Alec. “Did you get injured on patrol? Are you hurt? If you got hurt again and Jace didn’t call me I’m going to-”

“Stop.” Alec interrupted. He raised an arm towards Magnus, warning him to stay back, and then reached his other hand inside his jacket.

Magnus’ watched his boyfriend uneasily. If Alec clearly wasn’t injured, but he was still acting strange. If he’d brought home another newfangled weapon he wasn’t going to be happy. He’d almost burned down the living room trying to work out how to use a flamethrower last week and Magnus had finally put his foot down. The apartment was a weapon-free zone. Well, except Alec’s bow of course, but that was hardly a fire risk.

But when the Shadowhunter’s hand emerged Magnus had to stifle a laugh.

“I found her in the alley next to the subway station.” He said, gazing down at the small ball of white fluff in his hand. “Her name is Winter - she doesn’t have a tag or anything, I just thought it suited her. She just looked so sad, I couldn’t leave her there and we already have cat food and other cat stuff for Chairman Meow and… well, can we keep her?”

The expression on his face was enough to make Magnus melt. The warlock reached out a hand, slowly, as not to frighten the animal, and the kitten nuzzled her damp nose into his palm.

“Well, seeing as you’ve already named her.” He smiled as Alec’s face lit up and then bent down to get a better look at their new friend.

“Hi, Winter,” he murmured, “welcome home.”

42. Film

“So -- what’s it like, being a vampire?”

“Aline!” Isabelle looked appalled. “You can’t just go around asking people what it’s like to be a vampire!”

Alec snorted, drawing the girls’ attention to him.

“What?” Isabelle asked, glaring at him.

Alec shrugged. “Nothing, Gretchen Weiners.”

“Did you just call her a weiner?” Aline swiveled to face Alec.

“Urm, no.” Alec spluttered. Weren’t they just fighting? Why was everyone staring at him now? “I just… it’s from a film,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah right” Isabelle scoffed, “Since when do you watch films?”

“Yeah,” Aline agreed, “which film is it from?”

“It’s… uh. A film about a mundane high school.” Alec could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Oh! Mean Girls.” Simon, who had been standing quietly in the corner, forgotten during their exchange, piped up. “It’s a chick flick with Lindsay Lohan in. Hey-,” he smiled at Alec, “that’s quite funny.”

Alec ignored the vampire’s praise and focussed on Izzy. As soon as Simon had said the words ‘chick flick’ a large smile had spread across her face.

“Ohhh,” she said, grinning “Is this Magnus’s influence?”

“Magnus?” Aline’s brow crinkled.

“Alec’s sort-of boyfriend.” Simon supplied, helpfully.

“Boyfriend?” Now Aline was grinning.

“Urgggh!” Alec moaned, hiding his glowing face behind his hands. Next time Magnus requested a movie night, he thought, Alec was going to choose the film himself.

43. Green

Green will mend our broken hearts.

Magnus winced as he caught a glimpse of his emerald green dress shirt in the reflection of a restaurant window as he made his way across the street. After another long, restless night he hadn’t put much thought into how he’d dressed that morning, simply pulling on the first thing his tired hands had dug out from the wardrobe. The irony, that on this day in particular, his random selection had turned out to be green hadn’t hit him until this moment, when the flash of colour bought that line from the old Shadowhunter nursery rhyme to the front of his mind.

The corner of his lips quirked up ruefully, somewhere between a grimace and a smile, and he wondered briefly, as he weaved purposefully between the New Yorkers cluttering the sidewalk, whether his subconscious had pushed him towards this shirt. Maybe decades of living with a Shadowhunter, of upholding their customs and traditions had actually rubbed off on him. Maybe his unconscious yearning to heal, to mend, made him willing to believe in something as childish as the power of colours.

The smile slipped from his lips as he walked through a set of tall iron gates, leaving the bustle of the city behind. He paused for a moment, adjusting to the heavy silence that enveloped the area like a fog, and then headed up the well worn path along the side of the cemetery towards the marble angel statue that he knew overlooked the rest of the grounds. The same statue he’d visited every day for the past five years.

No. After all this time, if there was one thing Magnus had learnt, it was that nothing could fix a broken heart. There was no healing, no mending, no moving on. You simply had to bear the pain, and try to survive.

44. Punk

“What are you wearing?”

Alec paused, mug of coffee halfway to his mouth, as he stared at his boyfriend.

“Fabulous, isn’t it?” The warlock gave a wiggle and then twirled so that Alec could see the outfit from every angle.

“No. I mean, you look good,” said Alec, abandoning his coffee on the counter. “Well, great actually. But you’re not going out like that?”

“Of course not.” Magnus waved his hand dismissively at the Shadowhunter. “I’d freeze in this weather.”

Alec nodded mutely, taking in Magnus’s clothes. Or rather, lack of clothes. The warlock was wearing a pair of black ultra-skinny jeans that appeared to be made entirely of scraps of material held together by safety pins and, Alec suspected, willpower. His oversized charcoal t-shirt had a large rip in the side that revealed more than a little of his toned caramel skin and his eyes were ringed artfully with a black glittery eyeshadow that matched the sparkles in his inky spiked hair.

To Alec, he looked like pure, unadulterated sex.

“I wore this in the ‘80s you know,” Magnus circled the kitchen slowly, so Alec could take in the full effect of his clothing. “I was quite the punk in those days, got myself into all sorts of mischief.” He dropped one eyelid in a single glittering wink and smirked when Alec almost choked. “I just wanted to see if it still fit.”

“Uh-huh.” Alec was starting to feel like he was missing something, like he was an unwitting participant in some sort of game. “I thought that was kind of the thing with being immortal though, and, well you. You don’t exactly grow out of your clothes do you?”

Magnus paused. He leaned forward over the counter and tilted his head as if deep in thought. Then he drummed a finger against his lips. Alec’s gaze dropped to the older man’s mouth and he swallowed unconsciously. Was it him or was the kitchen getting a little warm?

“Well,” Magnus said, finally. “I guess you’re right, but you can never be too careful. I have a few more outfits I wanted to try on, maybe you can come and give me your opinion?” He raised an eyebrow at the Shadowhunter.

“Oh?” Alec’s brow furrowed. Magnus wanted him to look at his outfits? But he knew Alec was useless with fashion - oh. He smiled as the realisation clicked in his head. “Oh,” he smiled shyly at the warlock who was now grinning openly at him, and took his outstretched hand. “Yeah, ok, sure.”

45. Paranoia

He was running, sprinting full out into the darkness, legs pumping, thundering down the street as if his only hope of escape was to keep running. And it was, his only hope. The creatures that had been following him for the past three days were almost upon him. He couldn’t see them, in fact he hadn’t managed to get a good look at them this whole time, but he could hear them. That shrill, screeching screaming sound that started as a low buzz and then exploded into ratcheting peals as they grew closer. This is what it would sound like if demons could laugh, he thought.

Alec swerved left, cutting into the narrow path between two tall, dilapidated buildings and swore violently. It was a dead end.

He must have gotten turned around. Years of patrolling the streets of Brooklyn with Jace and Izzy meant he knew the city inside and out, he’d never been cornered before, not unless it was part of the plan - using the tight space as a tactical advantage or luring whatever hell beast they were tracking into a trap. This time he was the one who had been caught.

He ran his hands frantically across the rough, uneven surface of the brick wall in front of him, hoping to find a jutting stone, an exposed pipe, anything he could use as leverage. But there was nothing.

With a start, he realised that the screaming had stopped, replaced by the heavy thumping sound of blood pumping in his ears. His body was exhausted, three days of hiding and running had driven him to the edge of his physical limits, now he’d finally stopped, he didn’t even have enough energy to defend himself. His legs shook and his muscles ached. The only thing that seemed to be working was his heart, he could feel it pulsing, pounding wildly in his chest as it pushed blood, thick and sluggish around his body.

When he heard it he almost wondered if he’d be able to move. But his body acted on autopilot, years of training kicking his muscles into one last burst that spun him out to the side, away from the dark, hulking shape that lurched towards him. He hit the side of one of the buildings and then sank to the ground, legs finally giving out. Through wavering vision he finally caught a glimpse of his attackers. The three looming beasts were unlike any demons he’d seen before. They had legs and arms, like a human, but their limbs were impossibly long, as if they had been stretched too far. Red glowing eyes were set deep into the thick, cracked black skin that coated their bodies and as one of them opened their mouth to emit a piercing shriek, Alec saw rows upon rows of sharp grey teeth.

The tallest demon, the one that had shrieked, towered over him and raised one long, thin arm. As strands of blistering purple venom erupted from the creature, Alec closed his eyes and allowed his body to close down. Huh, he thought, as the world darkened around him and heat spread through his body, I always thought this would be cold.

Izzy knelt beside her brother’s collapsed body and checked his pulse.

“It’s there but it’s weak,” she said. “We need to get him back before he wakes up.”

Magnus nodded in agreement and shot a few more flickers of magic into Alec before lowering his arm. “I don’t know if I can keep him under for much longer, although he seems pretty exhausted.”

“Yeah, you’d almost think he’d been on the run for three days.” Jace commented dryly.

Izzy cocked her head towards him. “It’s not funny Jace,” She chided, “that demon bite clearly did something to his brain.”

“I didn’t say it was funny. If anything, it’s shocking - who knew Alec could outrun either of us for three days. He’s not exactly Captain America.”

“Children.” Magnus glared at them. “Do you think we could do this when Alec is venom-free? Paranoia demon bites might not be fatal but they still pack a punch.” He watched as Izzy and Jace nodded, then bent to pick up Alec.

“And,” he added as he conjured a portal and stepped through, “I really don’t fancy having to fight off a hallucinating shadowhunter again.”

#malec #malec fluff #alec lightwood #magnus bane #magnusbanexaleclightwood #shadowhunters

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thinkingaboutyoungroyals · 5 years

Text

Lost Boy (Chapter 3: New Friends)

Summary: When his family moves from San Francisco to the town of Shadyside, T.J. thought his life would change. And it did. He just didn’t think it would come in the form of the ghost of a boy who haunted his new bedroom.

Prologue

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Tag list: @delicatesleeper, @ibroughtachallah,@frenchtohste,@alittletooliteralleah, @tyrusmagocious,@tjskipping, @mirrorslover, @opatrickr, @lesbianrelateddeath, @mirrorslover, @opatrickr, @justkimberley, @burning-hot-pan, @green-lemonboys, @anotherangelfromspace, @thebisexualweirdo, @likelightning-inabottle, @thedampjofangirl, @fizasdr, @awkward-bisexual-alien, @lydibug1304

.......

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, T.J. turned to the left. Then the right. Then the front.

Groaning, he pulled off the gray hoodie he was wearing and threw it across the room. It probably landed somewhere along with the other ones he had tried on. He, then, grabbed a blue-green one and put it on, doing the same routine of checking how he looked from all angles.

“I like that one,” chirped Cyrus from his favorite perch on the desk. “The color matches your eyes.”

The compliment made T.J. blush. “You think so?” he asked, ignoring the burning in his cheeks.

“Definitely! Trust me, I have an eye for these things. I was a fashion icon when I was alive!”

T.J. chuckled, adjusting his collar. “Okay, I trust you.”

“Ohhh, trust! A positive step forward in our relationship!”

T.J. snorted.

What relationship? Sure, it had been a week since they met and have gotten used to each other’s presence. But, at the end of the day, they were still just a human and a ghost who happened to live in the same room. The blonde barely knew anything about him.

“So, are you excited for your first day of school?” Cyrus asked.

But, T.J. did learn he was incredibly chatty and overly curious.

“A little nervous,” he admitted. “It’s hard to make friends.”

“You can make friends with my friends.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your… friends?”

Cyrus laughed. “My alive friends. They’re really nice! And the best friends you can ever ask for!”

T.J. walked over to his bed to put the rest of his new notebooks inside his backpack. “How do you know if we’re even going to the same schools?”

“Well, you’re going to Grant High, right?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus smiled. “I was gonna go there, too. With them. You can’t miss them, they’re the kids with the really great hair.”

T.J. let out a chuckle. “Well, that narrows it down.” He slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Well, I’m off.”

Cyrus waved. “Have a great first day!”

“Thanks.”

With one last nod, T.J. stepped out of the room. When he briefly turned to close the door and caught a glimpse of the desk, Cyrus was gone.

……

The first day of school went as well as it possibly could. And by well, he meant that the moment he stepped through those doors, no one knew who he was so no one spoke to him. He got a few stares but no one approached, and he pretty much made his way to his locker by following people and using his eyes. He needed to check his locker number several times to make sure he got the right one and it took him a good five minutes just to open it.

By the time he found his homeroom and got a seat, he was already exhausted… and school hadn’t even officially started!

When the bell rang and the homeroom teacher arrived, T.J. sat up as straight as he could and forced himself to listen.

The teacher, who introduced herself as Mrs. Harris, welcomed them to their first year at Grant High School, talked about the rules and regulations, and then introduced a getting-to-know-you exercise with their seat neighbor.

They were to talk about three fun facts about themselves and then their partner would follow up with another three and keep going until they knew a lot about each other.

It was weird and kind of useless, where T.J. was concerned, because everyone was going to end up forming cliques anyway and probably not even talk to anyone else unless there was a dire need to do so.

Nonetheless, he turned his desk to face his seat neighbor – an Asian girl with a pixie haircut and wearing a very colorful headband. She smiled at T.J. in a friendly manner and he smiled back, politely.

“Hi, um, I’m T.J.,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand. “T.J. Kippen.”

The girl took his hand and shook it. “I’m Andi Mack. So…want me to start?”

“Sure.” He leaned back in his seat.

“So… I love making arts and crafts… I’m an only child… and… my favorite color is red.”

T.J. nodded. “Cool. Uh… I have an older sister… I play basketball… and I just moved here from San Francisco.”

“Really? That’s so awesome! How do you like it in Shadyside?”

“It’s pretty cool. Definitely different from San Francisco. I like it.”

“Have you had the chance to look around yet? Like, have you checked out The Spoon Diner? They have the best baby taters!”

And, just like that, their teacher’s exercise was thrown out of the window.

T.J. listened as Andi talked on and on about the town, about the places to eat, places to spend your extra time at (apparently, her dad owned a music store and people hung out there all the time, just trying out instruments or listening to old records), and a bit about the town’s history.

She was perky and enthusiastic. He had no doubt Amber would get along well with her, if given the chance.

“We should hang out sometime!” Andi chirped.

T.J. wondered if he just made his first friend.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“So, which part of Shadyside do you live by? Maybe we’re neighbors.”

T.J. rattled off his new address, surprised and a little proud that he managed to remember without peeking at the slip of paper his mom had placed in his wallet for emergencies.

Andi’s smile fell. “You… live where the Goodmans used to live…”

It was more of a statement than a question.

T.J. nodded. “Yeah. The psychiatrists, right?”

“Psychologists,” Andi corrected, sounding dazed and far away now.

T.J. didn’t really know the difference but okay.

Meanwhile, Andi was starting to look kind of pale.

“Are you okay?” he asked, feeling concerned.

She shook her head and nodded before putting on a smile. “Yes, sorry. Caught off-guard.”

T.J. flashed her a questioning look but before he could ask further questions, Mrs. Harris called everyone’s attention to make another announcement.

He didn’t get to talk to Andi again for the rest of homeroom. But, when the bell rang to signal first period, she did give him a smile and a wave and told him to find her during lunch if he needed someone to sit with.

The rest of his morning classes went well. He met a few friendly kids in his classes who were curious about the new guy. He was all too happy to talk about San Francisco and how much Shadyside was already looking better than the big city he grew up in.

When it was time for lunch, instead of looking for Andi or some other kid to sit with, T.J. decided to head out to the courtyard. He sat on one of the picnic tables and ate alone. He preferred it that way. The nerves and anxiety that filled his body all day have all dissipated now but he still felt utterly exhausted.

At the end of the day, he was ready to throw his backpack down and nap for hours. On his way out, he spotted Andi standing at her locker, her hands moving in various gestures as she talked to a blonde-haired girl.

She saw T.J. and waved. He waved back.

He walked home alone.

Amber didn’t join him since she wanted to stop by a Diner she saw was hiring – she wanted a job to help out their mom and T.J. was kind of considering it, too, but he had no desire to wait tables.

Cutting through the park, he calmly reflected on the day.

It wasn’t a terrible day. It wasn’t awesome, either. But, his mother was right. He could start over here. He had spotted some flyers for the basketball team on the bulletin board earlier, so he could try out. He could even join the school orchestra and put his mom’s piano lessons to use.

His musings were interrupted by the sight of a basketball court and felt himself perk up. Before he could register his own actions, his feet were already walking over.

It was empty except for one African-American girl with curly hair. Pausing by one of the benches, he watched her dribble the ball around and shoot. The ball went in, flawlessly.

Impressive.

The girl chased after the ball and caught it. As she turned around, she caught sight of him, watching.

“Hey,” she greeted, breathing deeply.

“Hey,” he returned. “Nice shot.”

She beamed. “Thanks. You play?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

“Cool.” Smirking, she bounced the ball in his direction. “Come on.”

T.J. caught the ball and stared at it for a few seconds, not comprehending what was going on.

“What? Afraid you can’t beat a girl?” she taunted.

Oh. A challenge. T.J. could never resist those.

Dropping his backpack on the bench, he dribbled the ball a few times before running onto the court. The girl wasted no time chasing him, attempting to steal but T.J. dodged her. He took a shot and let out a cheer when it went right in.

The girl wasn’t one to be let down by one basket. She immediately ran forward, grabbed the ball and made her way towards the net. She shot the ball and it bounced once before going into the ring. She cheered for herself and flashed him a smirk.

He may have just met his match.

T.J. wasn’t sure how long their game went but, if he was honest, it was the best time he’s had in weeks!

Whenever he played basketball, he could forget everything else. Forget his dyscalculia. Forget his ability. Forget the ghosts in the surroundings. It was just him, the ball, and his opponent.

When they’ve had enough, T.J. lost by 5 points but he wasn’t even mad about it. Sure, he felt all sweaty and gross now but it was also rather refreshing.

“You’ve got game,” he complimented, making her grin.

“Thanks! You’re not bad yourself. Are you on a team?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking about trying out, though.”

“You should. Where do you go?”

“Grant.”

“No way! Me too! I’m planning on trying out for the girls’ team. In fact, I was the founder and captain of the Jefferson Middle School girl’s basketball team,” she boasted a little before tilting her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you around before, though.”

T.J. shrugged. “I’m new in town.”

The girl nodded. “Cool. Well, if you wanna hang out and play again, hit me up.” She extended a hand to him. “I’m Buffy.”

He took her hand to shake. “Buffy… like the vampire slayer?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

He chuckled. “I’m T.J. Just moved here from San Francisco.”

“Whoa, that’s a big change.”

He shrugged again. “Yeah, well, it is what it is.” His phone beeped and he took it out to see the time and a text from Amber, asking if he was on his way home. “I gotta go. Uh, thanks for the game.” He picked up his backpack. “I’ll see you around!”

The girl, Buffy, nodded with a smile. “See ya.”

T.J. turned on his heels and jogged all the way home, feeling cheerier than he did that morning.

……

With his hair washed and himself changed into a clean hoodie, T.J. busied himself with homework.

It was kind of mean of teachers to already give homework on the first day of school but what could he do? And just because he was dyscalculic and got into trouble a lot back in San Francisco didn’t mean he was dumb or had no regard for his education. Ghosts just wouldn’t leave him alone until he helped them and, sometimes, they would rudely interrupt his study sessions.

“Hey, Ghost Whisperer.”

Case in point.

He turned his head to look at Cyrus, perched on his desk. The boy was beaming, as he always was.

T.J. wondered if there was ever a time when Cyrus didn’t smile. Then again, it didn’t really fit. Despite being dead, Cyrus was cheery and optimistic and T.J. had no doubt he had that same personality when he was alive.

“How was school?” the ghost continued.

T.J. put his pencil down and stretched. “Tiring. But, not bad. We already have homework, though.” He gestured at the open notebook in front of him. “I bet you don’t miss this.”

Cyrus laughed. “Not one bit,” he stated, peering at the numbers and calculations. He frowned and pointed. “You got this one wrong.”

T.J. looked down at it and huffed. “Of course, I did.” He pushed the notebook away. “They don’t have a tutor for me yet. So, I’m on my own for the week.”

Cyrus scrunched his eyebrows. “Why do you need a tutor?”

The question made T.J. turn away. He hated talking about it. He had made peace with it but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

Again, he wished he was just normal.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Cyrus said, kindly. “But, I’m pretty good at math. I can help you for the week... if you want me to.”

Tempting. But, no, T.J. wasn’t about to ask help from a ghost. Even if they were good at math. How come a ghost got to be good at math but he couldn't do a simple equation?!

“Nah, I’m good,” he stated, closing his notebook and pushing it to the side. “I’ll do the rest later. I need a break.”

He got up from the desk, walked over to his bed, and flopped onto his back on top of it. He closed his eyes, pressing an arm over them.

For a while, it was silent.

And, then…

“Did you make any new friends?”

T.J. moved his arm and opened his eyes, ready to tell the ghost to leave him alone but paused.

Cyrus was sitting cross-legged next to him, smiling and looking excited to hear T.J.’s answer. He was practically vibrating with anticipation. And it occurred to T.J. that maybe Cyrus just needed someone to talk to. Maybe… he was lonely.

A lot of ghosts were lonely but sometimes, they had other ghosts to fall back on. T.J. had been looking around Shadyside for the past week and he did spot a few wandering spirits.

Letting out a breath, T.J. sat up and crossed his legs.

“I guess,” he started. “The other kids are nice. And I might join the basketball team. Sign-ups should start sometime this week and tryouts are next week.”

Cyrus’ eyes lit up. “Oohh, you know, one of my friends played basketball in middle school. In fact, she was the Captain! I used to make all these cool signs for her and I’d bring megaphones-.”

“Wait, you were friends with Buffy?”

Cyrus paused. “You met Buffy? How is she?”

The boy’s face was smiling but T.J. could clearly see the pain in those soft brown eyes. He missed her. He missed his friend.

“She seems good,” T.J. carefully answered. “She was playing basketball.”

Cyrus let out a breath. “That’s good.”

T.J. cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. “I met this cool girl in my homeroom. Her name is Andi. She was really nice and…” He paused again, seeing the fallen look back on Cyrus’ face. “Did you… know her?”

Cyrus smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. She was my other best friend. Buffy and Andi… they were my best friends. We were the Good Hair Crew. Cause we had great hair. I was gonna make us t-shirts.”

“Oh.” T.J. felt his chest twitch in guilt, even though he didn’t mean to make Cyrus sad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Cyrus just shrugged. “It’s okay. I wanted you to meet my friends, anyway.” He bit his lip. “Did they look okay? Are they talking to each other?”

“Uh, I saw them at different times so I don’t know. But, they looked okay.” An image of Andi during homeroom floated in T.J.’s brain. “Though… now that I think about it, Andi did look kind of upset when I mentioned I lived here.”

Cyrus groaned, pulling his knees up to his chest before burying his head in his arms.

T.J. had never seen the ghost look this upset before. “Cyrus? What’s wrong”

“They’re still living with it…” Cyrus mumbled.

“Huh?”

Cyrus lifted his head, revealing sparkling sad eyes that couldn’t cry. “The g-guilt.” The ghost was shaking now. “They still feel guilty… they think it’s their fault that I… died.”

Thunderstruck, T.J. could only stare.

Cyrus told him he didn’t like talking about how he died. Yet, here he was now, sharing a little bit of it.

He swallowed, his voice shaking as he asked, “Is it…?”

“Is it what?”

“Their fault?”

Instantly, Cyrus’ face turned angry. “No! Of course not! It’s…” He paused, swallowing. “It was an accident. It wasn’t their fault. But, they… they keep thinking it is…” He sighed. “They drifted apart after it happened. I was hoping that since a year has passed, they would move on and be friends again but… I guess I was too naïve to believe that.”

With a choked sob, Cyrus buried his face in his arms again.

His cries tore at T.J.’s heart.

And this was the kind of thing that often got him in trouble back in San Francisco. His empathy for ghosts. Feeling sorry for them as they cried and moaned about their deaths. This need he had inside him to help in any way he could because he was the only one with the ability to do so.

Slowly, he scooted over to the crying ghost. He gently wrapped an arm around him, trying not to shiver at the coldness of his skin. He rubbed his arm, hoping to bring him some comfort. The boy tensed in his hold for a moment before relaxing. His shoulder pressed up against T.J.’s side and the latter was really glad he was wearing a hoodie.

“I… I hate thinking about them not being friends because of me,” Cyrus cried.

T.J. pursed his lips. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to say it out loud.

“Maybe that’s your unfinished business.”

Cyrus’ cries stopped. He lifted his head from his arms so he could look at T.J., confused.

“My… unfinished business?” he questioned, his eyes wide.

They looked almost doe-like. And his mole only made him look even cuter.

T.J.’s throat went dry at that sudden thought. He decided to ignore it in favor of nodding.

“Yeah, you want your friends to stop feeling guilty and go back to being friends with each other, right?”

Cyrus nodded. “Y-Yes. I do. But, how do I that? I’m a ghost. They can’t see me. And contrary to what the movies say, I can’t just haunt their dreams or write them a message on a mirror. Well, I could do the latter but that would probably give them a heart attack and I don’t want to do that and it’s so poltergeist that I-.”

“Cyrus,” T.J. interrupted his rambling. “I’ll help you.”

Cyrus’ mouth fell open, slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

T.J. sighed before offering a smile and spoke before he could change his mind.

“I’ll help you, okay? I’ll make sure you fulfill your unfinished business so you can move on.”

#tyrus #tyrus fanfic #tyrus lost boy #andi mack

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my-whumpy-little-heart · 4 years

Text

but sometimes, weakness gives way to strength

Based on thoughts of whumper gatherings around the holidays, karma, and inebriation. Content warning for drunkenness and alcohol.

Whumper was drunk.

Or tipsy at the least; Whumpee couldn’t quite tell. He sauntered in the room, cigarette dangling between his lips and wine glass in his hand. The cheap Santa hat on his head was just one wrong move from falling off. A hand came down to Whumpee, ripping the duct tape gag off their mouth, and fishing the rag out as well.

“How’s the party?” Whumpee deadpanned, muffled conversation and festive music playing in the following silence.

“Never as good as spending time with my favorite spy,” he smiled—a lopsided, too wide grin framing his shining teeth—and leaned down to his bound charge. He stumbled on unstable footing, but recovered quickly and pinched their cheek too hard to be playful.

But still, for the amount of control he had, his eyes were unfocused and hazy. His gait was unsteady, and he was cocky. Finally showing weakness that they could exploit. This was finally the opportunity they needed.

“But, lucky for you~” He took the cigarette from his lips, blowing a stream of smoke into their face, “I’m going to bring my favorite toy down for everyone to play with! It’s in the spirit of the holiday season, of course. And everyone’s already so excited to see you!”

“Can’t wait.” Whumpee kept their usual guise up, looking for an opening to run. Whumper would have to unbind their ankles to get them downstairs, but maybe they could test the waters before then. “Who’s even here, huh? A few amateur thieves such as yourself?”

“Ohhh, be careful with that sloppy tongue, little spy. Be glad I don’t want to do anything before my friends get their hands on you. And, speaking of, those friends just happen to include the most notorious criminal in the city. I’m sure you and him have met?”

“A-ah, I do seem to remember easily deceiving him a time or two, yes.” They had fond memories of getting close to him, but knowing he was here was bad news. Whumpee also had distinct memories of what Criminal did to people he didn’t like, and they weren’t pretty. They’d have to get out before Whumper got them down to the first floor.

“And he’s not especially pleased with that as you might guess. He was just telling me how pleased he’s to finally get his revenge on that, and I quote, ‘backstabbing bastard.’�� Doubly bad news: he was already expecting them. They felt their stomach bottom out despite efforts to stay calm, and schooled their expression not to show it. But as they avoided eye contact with their captor, he laughed obnoxiously and it made them flinch. “Oh, don’t even try to hide. I know you’re nervous, so how about you just get over with? You know what they say, ‘face your fears’ and all that.”

He poured the rest of his wine down his throat, finished his cigarette, and stomped it out under his heel. And then Whumper was bending down, sliding strong arms underneath them, and lifting them off the ground bridal style.

“Wh- what’re you doing?! I can walk by myself!” Whumpee squirmed around the hold. This was not the plan. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He had never even touched them longer than needed, so why were they held so tight against his chest all of a sudden?

“Not with your ankles tied like that, silly.” The words were so fond, they could have been mistaken as comfort if not for them being here completely against their will. “What, did you think I was going to let you walk? Maybe run away? Absolutely not.”

In a flurry of panic, Whumpee channeled all of their strength into their core and sat up against the hands holding them there, knocking heads with Whumper. He grunted in pain and weakened just enough that they could slip from his grip, landing hard on the floor, head spinning and reeling at the spontaneous decision. It was only then that they realized just how screwed they were. Their hands were still tied, metaphorically and literally. They were too disoriented to try and push up to hop or crawl away. And even with the inebriation and head trauma, Whumper was still perfectly capable of dominating them.

“Oh, that is what you were aiming for, hm? Thought I’d be, what, too drunk to take proper care of a prisoner?” he snorted at that one, taking Whumpee by the collar of their shirt and dragging them across the floor, “No, no, no, that’s not me at all. You’ve underestimated me, dearest, and I think [Criminal] should be the one to make you pay for that.”

This was wrong. This was all wrong. Whumpee whined and struggled, pleas desperately escaping against the hand that pulled their body forward, throbbing as they thumped down the stairs, the impact at each one harder against their battered legs than the last.

“Oi! Everyone, gather ‘round!” Whumper shouted above the rowdy talking and conversation below him, and Whumpee’s heart pounded, “Our favorite ex spy has come down to provide some entertainment, in a fantastic duo with [Criminal]! What’s the name of your performance, you two?”

And it was then they looked up and Criminal was already right there. He was at the bottom of the steps, decked out in an ugly sweater, standing tall over Whumpee’s trembling form. Oh, God, they were trembling. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But a large, rough hand came and tilted their chin to look up to the delight of the gathering audience, and they struggled to swallow down their nervousness and tears with the cold eyes staring down at them.

“How ‘bout, ‘Splatters of Ingenious Punishment and Torture, and Also Probably Some Blood?’ Whatta you think about that, my lil’ betrayer?” Everyone laughed despite it not being funny, or even remotely jokelike, and that’s when Whumpee realized that Criminal was smashed out of his mind. His speech was slurred like nobody’s business and they didn’t think they’d ever heard him even make an attempt at a joke in their entire life. And it probably would have been funnier to think about if he hadn’t just pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket and pressed it to their shoulder. But their skin didn’t split just yet, and they couldn’t help but to beg. They knew what was coming. They knew not to underestimate him. And they were scared.

“Please! Don’t do this, please,” They choked on their breath and a sob, windpipe bent uncomfortably at the angle their face was still tilted, “I can’t take it, you don’t- I can’t- please!”

“Oh, you poor thing. I always brought you in to watch over those worse torture sessions, didn’ I?” They didn’t know why they nodded, but they did so anyway because it was the truth and maybe he’d go easier on them if they told the truth… “Well, ’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that I won’t do anything to you like I did to those poor souls.”

Whumpee almost dared to be hopeful at the pause in his words.

“In fact, I think it oughtta be far worse.”

And the knife plunged in, twisted, and he was kicking and sobbing but hands held him down and the pain dragged down and down his skin in a burning fuse that couldn’t possibly be the lead up to something worse. But somewhere deep down he was sure he’d know when it the fuse ended and the bomb truly went off.

#if the title doesn't make sense #it's about the alcohol making whumper and criminal seem weak even though it only made them more vicious and metaphorically strong #eh i tried #whump #tw:alcohol #drunkenness #knives #cuts #whumper gatherings #revenge #my attempts at writing drunk characters having never been drunk before #rip me i just wanted to fulfill my idea lol #oh well happy holidays you guys #might make more holiday whump to post on christmas but i should also be working on Floyd's story so we'll see #fear #crying

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hordelord · 5 years

Text

A Swiftly Tilting Mirror

---

Lord Hordak would never permit anyone to be in such close proximity to him, especially as he lay prone on a metal work table, head resting on folded arms. No warrior liked leaving his unarmored back exposed in such a vulnerable position -- open to attack. But Entrapta had proven trustworthy on more than one occasion. The technologically talented princess had improved the Horde's combat drones, run numbers on operational efficiency, constructed a superior armored exoskeleton for him, assisted him with the portal experiments, and remained loyal even after Catra's treachery.

The only sound in the dark laboratory was the mechanical whir of the robotic armature adjusting its position at Entrapta's command and her absent humming as she concentrated on installing her latest addition to his exoskeleton ensemble -- a pair of bionic wings which she’d spent a considerable amount of time crafting. She'd insisted that he lay down across the work table for the procedure, something about the bearings within the sockets needing to be in a neutral position relative to gravity. He'd objected initially, but complied to silence her long-winded explanation. To ease his paranoia he watched her work in the reflection of a mirror angled above the work table.

"What if the mistakes in your cloning are because of Horde Prime?" Entrapta's question abruptly interrupted her thoughtful humming as she attended to the bionic ports along his trapezius and shoulders.

"The Emperor of the Known Universe doesn’t make mistakes," a disdainful huff.

He watched her in the mirror as she paused her examination of the wing's connector joint to enter something into her datapad before snapping her visor over her face and stowing the screen under a curled arm of hair.

"But how do you know he doesn’t make mistakes?"

"Because he is perfect."

"But if he’s perfect and doesn’t make mistakes that implies your defect is by design."

"You're suggesting he purposely designed his clones, designed me, to be defective?" His temper started to flare, a spark of irritation igniting him.

"If he’s truly perfect then the defect would be intentional because a perfect clone would be--"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t have to answer your questions!"

"I know that perfection is rarely found in the universe," she continued, ignoring (as she always did) the building acid in his tone.

"What do you know of the universe, Etheria is stuck in a backwater dimension,"

"Yes! It’s so fascinating —I’ve been comparing the data in my archives with the information from your ship’s computers and our portal tests —it’s incredible! I’ve yet to come up with a working hypothesis as to how it exists in an alternate dimension, but I think I have some leads."

A jolt through his shoulder caused his muscles to spasm and he winced with a snarl against the burning sensation. The installation of the first wing had been painful, a jarring shock through his shoulder blade.

"Are you finished yet?"

"No, I just need to make sure the connection is working correctly --there's extensive degradation of your nerve-endings. This will all be a process of trial and error to find the limits of the cybernetic hardware. Then I have to connect the other wing --unless you prefer half a wingspan?" Entrapta chuckled and imp, hiding somewhere up on the pipes, mimicked her.

"Hurry up," he huffed with a growl, claws scraping the cold metal of the table.

"Good science cannot be rushed. And anyways, it's a little hard to see; if I had a better look at what I'm doing? Maybe the work would go faster. You really need to improve the lighting situation in your lab," emphasising her point, a curl of hair holding a small pen flashlight flicked it on and she leaned closer to check a cable that ran along the metal bone of the wing.

"I can see just fine in the dark. Perhaps your eyes need adjustments."

"Ohh, that's an interesting idea. Maybe I'll upgrade my visor --but for now let me finish this. Maybe I just need to get a better angle--" there was a rustling of movement and the penlight flashed in his peripheral vision.

His warrior instincts taut with anticipation, he turned his head to watch her hoist herself aloft and above the work table. He was about to bark an objection before she settled her knees on the table, astride his waist. Her new position afforded her a more direct line of sight to examine both trapezius ports without the ceiling's robotic armature and wings being in the way of her hair. Never in his life had someone dared be so bold as to perch over him as she just had. He watched in the reflection of the mirror as she resumed her work, and his tension eased. The nature of the physical contact was novel and startling.

"Ah, here we go -- this wing is just about done," she chittered between sparks of her tool and taps on her pad.

While most of the nerves in his remaining flesh and muscles were nearly entirely dulled, the exposed skin of his waist could feel her body heat through her coveralls along with the occasional brush of her prehensile hair. It was relaxing in a way he didn't expect.

"Even if Horde Prime did design his clones to be flawed, it doesn't change anything. I will prove my worth --I will prove him wrong," he muttered bitterly.

She hummed an agreement, "I mean, just think about it logically; if he'd designed you to be a perfect clone you'd have been a possible threat to him."

"How do you mean?" He turned his head to look at her through the corner of his eye but her visor still obscured her face, and so rested his head on his folded arms and watched her work through the mirror.

"If you were a perfect clone you'd be equal to him in all ways, including his nature as conqueror of the known universe. I'm no military strategist but, scientifically speaking, intraspecific competitors in nature create conflict."

"There… there would be no conflict. We'd rule the universe together -- as brothers," but it felt strange to admit such a wish to her. Hearing his own words aloud, he felt a sliver of foolishness lodge itself along the edge of his thoughts.

Because what if, after all the time that had past, his brother cast him aside again?

The sound of her visor snapping up pulled him from his brooding.

"Well, when you become ‘Emperor Brother’, I hope you'll still have time for science," she said as the armature securing his second wing lowered and he felt the palm of her gloved hand press firmly into the center his back. Her gaze met his through the mirror as her hair coiled tightly around his upper arms to hold him fast as his second wing was aggressively locked into the right socket at his shoulder. A scarlet snarl, he grunted against the pain of the radiating heat. The first wing had been painful enough.

The burning sensation dulled into the background as he considered her words. His scientific work had always largely been driven by a survival instinct to sustain his failing biology and his desire to prove himself worthy to his brother. Scientific research was a present means to an end and a tool to maintain power. It certainly wasn't a focus of his duties when he was Prime's top General. Though, he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the research enjoyable. Aside from the frustration of repeated failures. — I hope you'll still have time for science.

He decided that it would be unfortunate if he no longer had time for science. He'd certainly miss his laboratory. He’d miss Entrapta’s assistance. He watched her study her datapad, how her brow creased with concentration as she typed a note or two.

"Once I am reunited with the Horde Empire, I'll ensure our new laboratory will have adequate lighting," at the mention of the word our, her gaze flicked to his through the mirror.

"Ohhh, we'll have a new lab? How exciting! Will it be in space--will it be on a spaceship? Ahh! I'd love a lab in space, that'd be a dream-come-true," her enthusiasm beamed through the reflection as her eyes went wide. A smile twisted the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps. And with access to the Empire's advanced scientific resources and research, I will finally be able to rid myself of this defective body and create a superior form for myself."

"A new body?" Her smile faltered slightly.

"Yes."

"But… you'll still be you, right?" The note of concern in her voice tugged at his attention.

"Of course I will."

"Wow! Horde scientists can transfer consciousness? That's incredible!"

"Yes. At least, I think so," his own doubt gave him pause. Would he still be himself? How could he really be sure?

"We'll have to run some tests before attempting something like that. But in the meantime, I can help you with your upgrades! I'm making great strides in my understanding of bionics and cybernetics. Maybe, with enough upgrades, you won't even need to transfer to a new body because you can improve your existing body --with First One's tech," he felt her shift her position as she leaned back to examine his new wing and she rested her weight lightly on his tailbone and the pressure felt strangely relaxing. He closed his eyes and almost chuckled, amused by the absurdity of her sitting on him like a perching imp.

"Your… confidence is admirable. You… truly believe enough tech upgrades would be able to compensate for my failing biology?"

"I don't see why not --maybe it'd even give you unique advantages," she said as she tested the new wing's range of motion with help from the armature.

"Advantages?"

"Just imagine the possibilities, especially with further integration of First One's bionics. We could build an improved you, and maybe eventually find a way to repair the defects in your genetic code. You're the first cybernetic being --well I mean, the first one I've met anyways. I think that makes you special."

He opened his eyes to look at her through the mirror and was taken aback by the gentle earnestness of her smile. He’d never known anyone like this princess of science and when she looked at him and spoke with such genuineness he wasn’t sure how to respond. He wondered if she was manipulating him somehow, trying to get something she wanted. You can’t trust a princess.

Then she grinned and patted him between his shoulder blades before lifting herself from his back and lowering to the floor beside the table. Immediately, he missed the proximity of her body and was simultaneously unsettled by the realization.

"Ta-Daa!" She bounced on her toes once before sitting cross legged upon her lavender locks, looking up at him gleefully. "Finished! How does it feel?"

Pushing up from the exam table, he flexed and stretched his new appendages --one swung wildly outward and Entrapta dodged it with a laugh.

"Strange, but surprisingly familiar. Though, they don't seem exactly flight-worthy."

"Well no, I suppose that's the downside of having exoskeleton armor crafted from metal, but I'm working on fixing that. Flight may eventually be possible with the addition of an extra power source. Based on my most recent simulations, they should function well as gliding wings, and as a shield. I know the wing membrane looks like fabric, but the material is actually woven strands of fiber thread I synthesized from recycled from First One's materials tech. Lightweight and incredibly strong."

As Hordak stood, the comfortable weight of his wings pulled his shoulders back and caused him to stand a bit straighter. He extended his new wings, feeling how the cybernetic tech pulled at his muscles.

Entrapa watched him with bright eyes and a pleased grin

---

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #drabble #she makes wings for him #i had this idea #and i had to get it out of my head #work in progress #a swiftly tilting mirror #my writing

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melodiouswhite · 5 years

Text

Forbidden Fruit

A/N: Writing shameless Jekyde smut. This is an Seperated AU, written from Dr. Jekyll's POV. I've never written smut before in my life, please be nice to my comment section. Yes, I know that this smut fic is amateurish, but I've never written stuff like that before, so please forgive me, if this isn't as good as my other writing. There is no plot to this. I'm not sorry.

At first I thought, that something had gone wrong. I wanted to get rid of my evil to be a good man, or at least that's what I tell myself, that's what I want to believe. So I brewed a potion to separate my evil. It didn't quite go as planned. It was separated, but not completely, it's still a part of me, still within me. The potion tore my soul apart, yet it only manifested in changing my shape and character. My evil became a sentient entity with a mind and emotions of its own, taking a shape every time I took the potion. I had a completely dark being within me, while at the same time I was still the same Henry Jekyll, with all my desires, negative character traits and wishes. It was a change for the worse, yet I did gain something. No. I gained someone . 'It' became a 'he'. I couldn't tear my eyes off him, the first time I saw him. I still can't. Whether you like Edward Hyde's appearance or not, it's impossible to look away. People find him ugly for reasons I know, but can't comprehend. Not when I am so attracted to him. No. Attracted is the wrong word. I love him. Need him. Want him. Desire him. I can't say how it happened, but it did and I don't regret it. God, there is no word to describe how much I love and desire him. Now I have finally found a way to separate us completely, but I don't want him to leave. Luckily, neither does he. We can finally be together in the way we wanted and I'm so happy. Oh Lord, if you wanted to punish me for my sins, I couldn't have asked for a sweeter punishment. I love his youth, his thirst for life and its pleasures, his energy, his fire, the way the light of his flames illuminates my soul and makes me feel alive. Nothing seems to be impossible for him and it's invigorating, euphoric. It still boggles my mind, the things he can do to me, when he touches me, kisses me, lies with me, makes me feel these overwhelming sensations. I love his café noir brown hair and the noises he makes, when I run my fingers through it. It's long, wavy and silky. I can't get enough of entangling my fingers into it, when we lie together. I love his ghost white skin, that seems to glow in the moonlight, and how it is hot and cold at the same time, when it's on mine. I love his acid green eyes that actually do glow in the dark and have a wicked gleam to them. I love how tiny he is, it's honestly adorable. His head doesn't even reach up to my shoulder. I love his pale, beautifully swung lips. They can kiss like no other and god, I can never resist the temptation. Sometimes he paints them red and looks more seductive than the most experienced common girl* ever could. He tastes like cherries and pomegranates. It's the sweet taste of sin and I'm addicted. I love his voice. To others it sounds unlikeable, but to me he is a siren. Hyde has an almost feminine, guttural rasp, yet there is something melodic and sensual about it. When he wants something from me, he adopts a sultry purr, that he knows makes my knees go weak and awakens the passion, that I thought I'd lost. I love the small similarities and differences between my alter ego and myself. He is a part of me, yet I always discover something new about him. Those are only a few of Hyde's charms. I could rant about him for days and it wouldn't be enough.

Right now, he is standing behind my chair, his hands wrapped around my shoulders. He snickers into my ear and I know what he wants. I feel my face flush. Gently, he nibbles at my ear lobe and I have to suppress a moan, because he knows all of my sensitive spots and how to touch them to drive me mad.

“Jekyll”, he purrs and I feel his sinful lips move from my ear lobe down to my jaw, right above my stiff collar. The collar often rubs against my skin uncomfortably, irritating it, until I just want to tear it off my neck, throw it on the floor and trample on it. He caresses the sensitive skin and I shudder. “Hyde, please. I'm trying to work.” It doesn't sound convincing, I know. “Are you?”, he questions, his breath ghosting along my neck. “Because I don't see you working right now.” He is right, of course. I could just ignore him and proceed with my paper work. But I don't and we both know, that he has already won. I don't struggle today. No. I smile, turn my head and kiss him. He tilts his own to get a better angle and kisses me back. Somewhere along the line, I feel his nimble fingers remove my stiff collar and it's so much better without that nasty thing, so out of gratitude I open my lips to let his tongue in. He immediately claims my mouth as his and I relish in the taste of pomegranates and cherries. Hyde is talented and skilled and not before long, I'm entangling my fingers in his hair, wanting more. Everything fades around us and I forget how wrong and perverse it is to lie with another man, forget that Hyde is legally only twenty years old and could be my son (and as my creation he technically is) and that we're committing a serious crime**. All I know in this moment is, that I desire him and the forbidden fruit he offers to me. “Hyde”, I say, “Let's take this upstairs.” He grins in triumph and helps me up. He is never as gentlemanly as when he seduces me and that alone makes me want him more. Eagerly, we hurry to my bedroom. On the way Poole throws us a questioning glance, because it's only nine pm and I never retire this early. I just about manage give him the order to let no one come near my room for the night, before Hyde pulls me inside. He closes the door after me, locking it for good measure. It's a good thing I can count on the discretion and loyalty of my servants or we would both be ruined. He doesn't wait until we're in my bed, but pins me against the door. Greedily we devour each other's mouth, as we undress. Within moments, we're pressed against each other, skin on skin and I feel his heat and cold. His left hand brushes my nether regions, teases them deliberately. It makes me growl and I lift him up. He yelps in surprise and laughs, as I carry him to the bed, dropping him onto the sheets unceremoniously. I lie beside him and allow him to crawl on top of me, because he doesn't like to be the bottom, despite me being the older and taller one. He kisses me on the lips, then travels down my jaw, neck, chest and stomach, before ending up between my legs. I gasp, as his tongue caresses the sensitive skin on my thighs and I feel myself harden. Then he sucks me and I have to bite my arm to stifle my cries. “Edward! Ahhh … oh god … ohhh, don't stop … oh, Edward!” I make a sigh of his name, a moan, a cry, a plea … a prayer. Hyde doubles his efforts and now I can't hold back any longer. Then he shoves a finger inside me, two and three, but it's not enough, I need more, I need him sheathed inside me, ploughing me mercilessly, ravishing me like only he can. “Edward … please”, I beg him. He laughs and looks at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I whine, as that little devil removes his fingers and his mouth from me and sits up. “Why, my dear doctor”, he scolds me, “If you want pleasure, you have to work for it!” I know what is expected of me, sit up and get on my fours. With a last hungry gaze into his wicked green eyes, I position my head in front of his half hard erection, take it into my mouth and begin to suck it slowly. He moans lowly and I feel his spidery fingers entangling themselves in my blond hair. I know just how he likes it, I am his other half after all. He is rock hard in no time, but just like me, he wants more. He presses himself into my mouth completely, obviously expecting me to give him a deep-throat. But it has been decades since I last gave one, so I choke, when his manhood brushes my palate and pharynx. He notices and removes himself from my mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Shhh”, he apologises, as I cough and wheeze and he strokes my throat and cheek. “I forgot how much out of practise you are.” My gag reflex settles down and I can breath evenly. With a smile I clasp the hand caressing my face and gaze deeply and lovingly into his eyes. He smiles back with uncharacteristic tenderness and softness. I love this smile, because it's reserved for me, Henry Jekyll, his unworthy other half, his inferior creator. I want to tell him how much I love him. But there are no words strong enough and I'm too overwhelmed to say anything other than his name. “Lie down on your back”, he commands me and I obey and spread my legs like the whore I am. He runs his fingers up my legs and lets his tempting touch tingle my skin and kindle my desire to have him finally inside me. “Beautiful”, he whispers, eyeing my body as if I was an Adonis (I'm not). “Oh, you have no idea how beautiful you are, my sweet doctor.” He lifts my head and shoulder up, so he can kiss me on the lips and he does so, deeply and passionately. I requite the kiss with equal passion, whine into his sinfully sweet mouth and grind against him, because I want him, I need him, I need his fire to consume me until nothing is left.

“Edward”, I whimper, “Please … don't tease me any longer. I can't take it any more. I need you … I need you so bad!” Hyde smirks deviously and licks his lips sensually. “Oh, you dirty, lecherous old man”, he taunts me, “Grinding against me, begging me to fuck your brains out, like a London whore. Where is your prim and demure demeanour now? But fear not, my lusty doctor, I'll make you feel so good, that you'll forget who you are.” Finally, he positions himself in front of my hole and enters me in one rough thrust. I groan in pain, my eyes begin to water and I start sobbing, because I'm so overwhelmed by the pain and the desire and it feels so good to have his throbbing arousal finally inside me, but I still need more, I need him to live up to his promise soon. Now he begins to move slowly and teasingly, it's almost painful and I move against him, moaning, sobbing, begging him to pound me faster, harder. He complies and on top of that, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking greedily. I gasp and entangle my fingers in his hair yet again. Our eyes meet, his glowing with diabolic passion, mine clouded with lust, love and tears of joy. A salacious grin appears on his face, then he moves his hand up to tweak my other nipple between his thumb and fingers and it makes me cry out and writhe in desire. All of this is too much for my senses. The way he savagely thrusts into me, snarls obscene things into my ear, licks, sucks and tweaks my nipples and then, to top it all off, he takes my own manhood into his free hand. I move into him as much as I can, screaming his name all the while. My entire being is on fire, I'm burning, the heat within me gets stronger and stronger. And I can tell it's the same for him, because his thrusts become even faster and more brutal and his panting becomes increasingly erratic. Suddenly he grabs my head, yanks me up and sinks his teeth into my neck and shoulders, covering them in love bites. Once again, pain mixes with lust and then his flame bursts. He comes with a guttural growl, I feel his seed explode inside of me and it pushes me over the edge as well, sets me ablaze. Stars dance before my eyes, I throw my head back and scream his name, as the flames of hell engulf me and I climax. And in this moment, I do forget who I am. We scream our orgasms out into the night and I'm pretty sure that someone hears us, but right now I can't find it in my heart to care. Hyde collapses on top of me with his sword still sheathed inside me and his skin is both hot and cold on mine, as we both lie in the afterglow, faces flushed, covered in sweat and semen, gazing into each other's eyes and smiling blissfully. “Edward”, I coo tenderly and caress his face. He smiles lopsidedly but softly, with a certain fondness. We lie like this for a while in deep relaxation and I am happy and in love. Then the wicked gleam returns to his eyes and he grins again. I blink in confusion. What could he be up to now? He rolls off me, then points at my sticky torso. “Do you want me to clean that mess, doctor?”, he suggests mischievously. I know how he means it and nod. Hyde goes to work and licks the stickiness off me with the eagerness of a common girl at the promise of more money. I sigh in enjoyment, while he cleans me as meticulously as a cat cleans her fur. At some point I feel heat arise in me again. Renewed excitement bubbles up in my abdomen and I blush in embarrassment. He sees my obvious arousal and cackles: “Oho! Looks like someone is ready for round two!” I chuckle quietly: “Edward, I don't think my bum can take any more.” That's true. In fact, I'm quite sure, that I won't be able to walk tomorrow. But Hyde shakes his head and laughs: “Who says that you will be the one, who gets fucked?” I gape at him in surprise. Edward Hyde hates not being the one in power. Normally he only allows me to top, when we're having angry sex or when I initiate it (which doesn't happen often), rarely in a relaxed environment. He smirks and busies himself with blowing my growing erection once more. I moan lowly and hoarsely, because my voice is gone from all the screaming. Meanwhile his hand runs up and down my abdomen and waist, making me mewl. Then I growl, because he gives me the deep-throat I failed to give him earlier. I struggle to resist the urge to press further into his mouth. That would make him choke, experienced as he may be. “Oh, Edward …” After what seems like a few minutes, he stops, removes his mouth from me and admires his handiwork. “What a glorious sight! Henry, you lucky sod! Do you have the faintest idea, how many men of all ages would sell their soul to be so vigorous and able as you?” I blush and look away bashfully. Really, my alter ego makes me feel like a shy young man all over again! He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him again. “No need to be so shy, Henry. Not after you begged for my dick and screamed my name so many times, that now you can hardly talk!”, he chuckles. My blush grows darker at how Hyde makes use of words that I would never take into my mouth. But then he returns to his spot next to me, lying on his back and spreading his own legs for me. “Come on, doctor”, he rasps and his bright green eyes darken with lust, “Your patient needs you to cure his fever.” That makes me smirk. He senses what I'm up to, gives me a warning frown and I understand. Being the bottom makes him anxious. I must not let him wait. I roll on top of him and he practically disappears beneath me, being so small. When I grind against him, he cries out, presses himself against me in return and wraps his legs around me. “Ah! Ohh yes … o-oh! Nnng – oh Henry – ahhh … oh fu-” I muffle him with a searing kiss. As he kisses me back, his thin, wiry arms wrap themselves around my neck and torso, keeping my body pressed against his. Shamelessly he moans into my mouth and I feel his tiny body rub against my large one. Finally the need for air becomes too great and we have to end the kiss, so we can breathe. His pale face is flushed, his dark hair is sticking into his face, his lips are reddened and swollen and his eyes are slightly damp, full of real longing and desire. It's truly beautiful, but if I told him that, he wouldn't believe it. I stroke the damp strands out of his face and kiss him on the cheek, before working my way down from his face, neck, chest, stomach and finally to his thighs and nether regions. He gasps, as I take his erection into my mouth and make up for the blowjob I messed up earlier, while simultaneously fingering him slowly. “Doctor! Stop teasing me. I need you … give me your healing staff … stick it inside me already … don't make me wait.” I almost laugh at the way he manages to work me up by bringing my profession into our lovemaking. “Of course, of course”, I say sweetly, before I grab his hips with both hands and enter him carefully. I groan lowly at the lovely sensation of his tight hole squeezing my rod. But Hyde hisses, face contorted with pain and I feel his legs tremble against mine. Then a sharp pain as he violently drags his finger nails down my back, most certainly drawing blood. That's another one of the reasons he hates taking it. It hurts him every time. I wish it didn't, but he is so small and tight and I'm big. All I can do is to be as tender as possible and ensure that he feels more pleasure than pain. “Shhh, shhh”, I coo, stroke his hips, sides and stomach soothingly and pepper his neck and shoulders in gentle kisses, while he whimpers into my shoulder. After a while his body relaxes and his breathing eases down and he leans up to breathe into my ear: “Move.” At first I go slowly and it's so hard to hold back. But my consideration pays off. Soon enough he closes his eyes and sighs in pleasure and my heart swells, because now he begins to feel as good as I do. “Oh, Henry … yes …” When I pick up my pace, I'm forced to support myself against the mattress, so that my other half isn't crushed by my full weight. He isn't fragile by any means, but I'm still a lot heavier than he is. “Ah! Ohhh, oh yes! H-Henry! Oh fuck! Yes! Henry! Harder! Faster! Please!”, he croaks. I sit up and pull him up into my lap, impaling him even further. Hyde begins to moan louder, as I pound into him, wraps one arm around my body, the other around my neck and starts to ride me. I groan at the sensation, at his expertise even in this field, at how bloody good this feels. “E-Edward … o-oh my god! Ah!” He probably doesn't hear it, he's too busy calling out my name in return. I'm so proud that I can make him do that, make him lose himself in the pleasure I give him. Then I take his hard-on into my hand and jerk him off. His moans turn into lustful howling and shouting and again he scratches my back, albeit this time not purposefully. I ignore how my eardrums are ringing from the volume of his shrieking and affectionately gaze at his beautifully flustered, euphoric face and drink up the joy flowing from his wide acid green eyes. “Henry! Ah! Yes, right there! Henry! Henr-” Again I muffle his cries with a kiss, our tongues dance, our saliva mingles and his body is pressed against mine and my own eyes fill with tears of love. “Edward”, I pant, “My dear … other half … my fire … my soul!” “My soulmate”, he chokes, “My doctor … my creator … my heart!” The flame within me grows and grows and I know that I'm close. In sweet retribution, I sink my teeth into his neck repeatedly, marking him as mine and drawing blood. Of course he scratches me again - this time across the sides, but this pain is nothing compared to the happiness I feel. My thrusts become rougher and I grab his behind, pulling him further onto me, while he wraps his arms around my neck and stares deep into my eyes. “B-bite me again – ah!”, he demands, “Mark me as yours – oh! G-give me your injection – nng! Fill me with your love – a-ah! P-please, I need it – ohhhh – fuck, I'm so close-” Who is the whore now? I smile and nod. Then he throws his head back and shouts: “Ahhhh! I'm coming! Oh fuck, I'm coming!” He ejaculates hard onto our stomachs and chests, his walls constrict around me and that is all it takes to push me to my own release. Everything around me becomes fire and heat and flaring light and I explode inside him with a grunt, harder and more than I expected for the second time this night. “Edward!” “Henry!” Our bodies quake from the orgasm, as the rest of the night is once more disturbed by our screaming. I don't know how much time passes. But as we sit in the afterglow, try to catch our breaths and gaze into each other's eyes, exhaustion finally settles in. Hyde rests his head on my shoulder, rubs his cheek against it and purrs. I resist the urge to make a cat joke, but chuckle and run my fingers through his tousled hair. The purring intensifies. Gently I peck his forehead and whisper, that I love him. He doesn't answer, but that's fine. He will never say these words, never will be able to. He can only express them in the only way he knows, by dropping his defences and giving all of himself. And I fall for him all over again. We kiss one last time, tenderly and affectionately. Finally I set him down and slip out of him. He rolls onto his side and I lie next to him, embracing him from behind. Hyde turns his head and tiredly grins at me over his bony shoulder. “Hey, Henry.” “Hm?” “Happy birthday.”

…

*Common girl - euphemism for a prostitute.

**in August 1885 an act was passed to regulate prostitution. It contained an article that criminalised homosexuality. Up until then, it had only been sodomy, that had been punishable, but now homosexual love in general became illegal. It only was decriminalised in England and Wales more than 80 years later, in 1967, and a bit later in Scotland and Northern Ireland.

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #jekyde #jekyllxhyde #shameless smut #sorry not sorry #i regret nothing

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veridium · 5 years

Text

the dark side of your room

hey, it’s an All Time Low song for the College AU Update!! Woo!

Time for some more queer fluff and anxiety, what I do best!

masterpost // last chapter

Olivia: Hey, still down for me to come over in an hour?

Cassandra: Yeah, I’m just running errands. I will be back but I might hop in the shower. I’ll leave a key under the mat.

Olivia: Ohhh, a key...we’re getting heavy.

Cassandra: Don’t get cocky.

This must be like what people who are ‘Superb Owl’ fans experience the week leading up to the big sports game they all watch. Day after day, since the one when she asked her to come to the party it gets harder to breathe. It might also be from the surmounting happiness that she is in no way used to, that is nevertheless overwhelming. She can’t do what she usually does and hideout in Ellinor’s company, because she is just as nervous as she is -- if not more. Poor Ellinor. Their conversation by the soccer field is still fresh in her mind even two days after. Now, it’s Friday, making it 24 hours until it all goes down.

Whatever ‘it all’ is, remains to be seen.

Speak of the devil. She catches a familiar, similarly petite figure walking past her open doorway while she’s finishing up getting ready for the night.

“Hey!” she peers out the doorway to see Ellinor fumbling with keys sluggishly, backpack on her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Ellinor glances briefly. “Yep! All good.”

“You sure?”

“...Are you?”

Olivia strolls out into the hall and to her, all the while Ellinor finds her key and slides it into the lock. She stops short of twisting it, mouth tight with bated breath behind it, so it seems. In return, Liv grins in order to provide some form of comfort.

“At least our costumes look hot.”

“They do. They really do.”

“...Ugh, I’m so worried Dorian is going to make Cassandra want to punch him or something--”

“And if the lesbians scare the shit out of Cullen, I’m gonna--”

“Oh God, Cullen and gays...Cullen and the leftist kombucha hipsters?! Do we even know--”

“We don’t! That’s what I’m saying! And isn’t this Cassandra’s first real thing, going out with a girl?”

Olivia bites her lip. Fuck. She’s right. “Oh no. I’m taking her to the lion’s den right off the bat. Oh my God, why didn’t I think of this. I should have called for brunch like normal queer people do. The fuck is wrong with me?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know the gay agenda protocol for this, you never gave me a copy!”

“You aren’t supposed to have one, Ellinor, it’s not a Reader’s Digest.”

“Pfft,” Ellinor leans unto her hip and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Figure out the heirosapphics all on your own, then.”

Olivia pouts. “You stole that joke from me,” she grumbles, before brushing hair out of her eyes. “I have to get going, I’m supposed to be at Cassandra’s in like...whatever amount of minutes is left. I don’t know.” She pulls out her phone to check the time. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.

“Well then go on, get out of here,” Ellinor shoos, “I got plans too, anyway.”

“With C--”

“Yes, with him! Who else, the Pope?”

Olivia shrugs and dances off back on her toes towards her door. “Touchy Ducky!”

“I hate when you call me th--” the rest of Ellinor’s avarice is cut off by the door shutting. Yeah, yeah, she hates being called a touchy ducky. Which means, naturally, Olivia will have to tell it to Cullen and say she loves it, because pranks are healthy for any sustainable friendship. She giggle-snorts all by herself and searches around for her pair of sneakers she tossed somewhere earlier in the week, the perfect casual cap-off to her black leggings and tank top. Whatever tomorrow night turns out to be, at least she has tonight.

Only five minutes late, Olivia makes use of the key hiding for her when knocking doesn’t work. When she enters, the holiest of smells -- Italian spices that promise carbs -- greets her first. The kitchen is lit up, and on the stove is a big pasta pot that seems to sing to her. She follows the aroma over to it and finds steaming spaghetti, sauce, meat balls, large forked serving spoon and all. Beside it are two small bowls, and only two. Was Cullen not around? Eh, figures, if Ellinor said they had plans.

That means Cassandra made this. Cassandra made this for her. God, it’s been too long since she had any close associates who knew their way around a kitchen. Ellinor is a walking bio-hazard, Theia knows every order-in number in the city, and Josephine...well, she probably cooks, but she just doesn’t brag about it.

A whine gets caught in her throat -- the kind of “aw” one she makes at puppies in the mall and kids in the park. This is so sweet.

She drops her shoulder bag on the small dining table and lets herself wander. One slow loop around the coffee table, absentmindedly observing all the furniture. Sounds of a shower echo from the other side of the suite, and the mystery is solved just as to where Cassandra is. She must have gotten right into cooking and forgotten to shower when she got home.

Olivia comes to a halt at the mouth of the dark hallway and peeks with growing curiosity...

She’s been down to Cullen’s side, during the infamous occasion she went a bit Rutherferal, but that’s long in the past. Okay, a week, but the past is the past. Cassandra’s, on the other hand, is like some mystical Narnia closet. No one’s been in, and no one’s gotten out as far as she knows. The first time she slept over it was implicitly clear the living room was where she was invited and nowhere else.

What’s so mysterious about a dorm suite bedroom, anyway? What, is she hiding two twin beds down there put together to make a queen? The more she speculates, the more her feet inch closer and closer to the mostly-shut door. The light from the other side almost adds to the temptation. Liv, don’t, this is so weird. Yet, she keeps going, all the way until she reaches the door. She looks back down the other end, silent as sin: the shower is still going. So, against all logic in her head saying ‘stay in your lane,’ she pushes the door open. Expecting the worst, like in that Fifty Shades bullshit film.

The first thing to hit, again, is the smell -- it’s not spaghetti. Lavender? Lavender. In the corner on a desk a diffuser is on, spouting steam into the air. It invites her in like a shiny thing would to a squirrel, and in the process, the rest of the space becomes unfolds: A made bed with navy blue comforter and pillow cases, a stuffed bear against the throw pillow -- wait a minute, she has a stuffed bear? Yes, a stuffed bear with a button nose and all. Is that what she doesn’t want anyone seeing? Just a stuffed animal? I have five under my bed alone...

On the wall facing the door the curtains are pulled but the window is shut, and the floor is completely clean. The laundry basket by the door is almost empty, holding nothing but a t-shirt and a few socks. Up on the wall lining her bed there are origami stars and shapes taped all over, some making what look like constellations. They’re beautifully meticulous, just like Cassandra.

Nothing surprises her more than what she finds in and around her corner desk on the right, diagonal to her bed. Standard dorm honey-colored wood and red upholstery on the chair. Her laptop squarely centered, with a cup of pens and pencils off to the side. Books stacked neatly all around. On the attached shelf above it all are pictures with black frames, all shorter than the gold, silver, and blue trophy for some sport or another.

The pictures, though: that is what draws her in even more. From left to right there are four, total: the first shows two adults smiling with two kids: a boy, standing in front of the man holding onto his arm across his chest, and the other, a girl, held on the woman’s hip. She’s wearing a pale pink babydoll dress, she can’t be any other than six by the look of her baby face and twisted pair of buns in her long, dark hair.

Is that her? Wait, shit, then this must be her family.

The next picture provides more answers: the same adult couple, only the kids are older. The teenage boy is holding a soccer ball against his hip, and he has his hand on his Mother’s shoulder. They’re at the park, or somewhere green, and Cassandra is sitting on the blanket hugging her knees in a similar fashion as she did when she and Olivia lounged on the field. No baby pink anything in sight, though, just grey basketball shorts and a shirt, both a little big on her. The third is one of her and the boy again, her on his back riding piggyback and smiling such a joyous smile, it looks as if she was about to burst. Cheesy, and Cassandra is never cheesy. It’s heartwarming, the way the boy is looking at her from his periphery, chest puffed with pride.

The fourth and final one, though, is just him. He’s much older, and the picture is weathered even with the glass shielding it. As if it spend years just by itself, stashed or crammed somewhere, before finally being framed. The shot is off-center, tilted at an angle that cuts off the top of his head, making the shot look clumsy. He’s leaning against a car front, arms crossed and strong. The washed out lighting, like it was taken by a disposable camera, makes everything seem too bright: except for him, his smile, and his car.

He looks so nice. Why does she never talk ab--

“What are you doing?”

Olivia flinches like a cat struck by lightning, whirling around with her hands linking up behind her. She had been leaning over, soaking up every last inch of detail, but to the outside eye she simply looked nosy.

“I! Ah!” she struggles, “I’m...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Cassandra shows no sign of intended placation. “You didn’t mean to, but you did.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fucked up. “I did, b-but, I’m sorry. I just wanted...I think I was just…”

She tosses her clothes several feet into the hamper. “Just what? Going into someone’s room without asking or telling them?”

Olivia blushes and looks away, suddenly aware that she’s standing there with nothing but a blue towel on her and skin still damp from the shower. If there was a God, he would smite her this instant from her foolishness.

“Cassandra, I’m sorry,” she can’t say it enough, “I just--”

“Can you at least let me get clothes on?” Her tone is straight-and-narrow, and Olivia can’t quite discern whether she is deeply pissed or deeply understanding. She knows what she sounds like when she’s losing her cool, and it’s not anything like this. It’s unnerving, to say the least. Though, the guilt leads her to vacate the room without so much as a word, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as she skims past her.

The door shuts, leaving her to think about what she did. And boy, does she: making a slow death-march to the couch where she sits smack-dab in the middle. Every half-second feels like an hour, her knee anxiously bobbing. Her arms haven’t left her chest, and her lungs feel like kiddy pools for air.

Then, at last, Cassandra re-emerges. She’s wearing shorts, a black, slim hoodie, and a frown. Rather than join her on the couch she leans against the corner of the hallway wall and folds her own arms, phone in her hand. Olivia gets the courage to meet her eyes, and when she does, she’s reminded of how fatal ‘disappointment’ can feel.

“Well, I’m waiting,” Cassandra says flatly.

“Waiting for...for what?”

“For an explanation as to why you were nosing around my bedroom.”

“I was...um, the thing is, I couldn’t find forks in the--”

“Olivia Sinclair.”

Liv swallows and curls her legs up against her, hands hooking under her thighs. Humor won’t save her this time. “I don’t know! I just...the door was open, and for some reason, I just kept going and going until I was hip-deep and I just...didn’t think...well, fuck, okay, I didn’t think. That’s what happened. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, just please, don’t…” she’s spiraling into nervousness and it makes her words start to blur into one another. The sound of pleading, the kind that comes from someone who’s grown up being corrected too harshly for her age. “Please, I didn’t mean to...t-to...ugh, shit.”

Cassandra’s stoic, but just as Olivia is about to break from the tension it causes, she sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes, chin lifting towards the ceiling as she does so. “At least you’re bad at lying.”

“I know I c--h-hey! I’m not...I…” as she grumbles, she only vindicates Cassandra’s opinion, and elects to shut her mouth rather than dig the hole any deeper.

“Mhm,” Cassandra hums, moving away from the wall. The way her hips sway, like she has the upper hand and most of the battlefield already won, is both attractive and disconcerting. She comes to the side of the coffee table closest to the couch, sitting down on it directly in front of her. It’s so close, she has to keep a knee on either side of Olivia’s legs, but she makes do.

“I don’t like people invading my space,” she says as she settles in, very matter-of-fact.

Olivia is stiller than a grave casket, and stays that way. “Mhm...”

Cassandra smirks drily. “If you know, then why did you do it?”

“Because I didn’t think...”

“You weren’t thinking? You sure about that?” Her stare focuses, as if she has the power to break glass with it alone; only, Olivia is the one to crack.

“I...guess I just wanted to know about you. Maybe I thought your room would...satiate my curiosity.”

Cassandra raises a brow. “Ah, so there’s the answer.”

Olivia wants to leap out the window for a cold breeze. Or escape...kill two birds with one stone, as it were. No one likes their space to be invaded. Why did I do it? That’s such a no-go. God dammit.

“I guess I just wondered.”

“Wondered?”

“About your background. Your...childhood...and your interests…”

“Snooping is a great tactic...if it’s a matter of national security.”

Olivia huffs through her nose. “Oh, yeah, okay, technically that is correct. But...but…”

“But what, Liv? Are you suddenly scared of me?”

No. No, no, no. “No, it’s just!” She stops herself before she is definitely in yelling territory for no good reason. “I’m just nervous about everything, all the time, and sometimes it’s weird. I overthink even when I do impulsive things like go in someone’s room and look at their family pictures and gawk at their teddy bear and their fancy oil diffuser and yes, okay, I gawked. I admit it. It was all gawk….just...gawk-able...fuck, is that even a word? Fuck…” she whispers the last expletive as she leans forward onto her lap, putting her face in her hands. The solace she finds from Cassandra’s discerning capabilities only goes so far, though.

Then, in the self-induced darkness, she hears Cassandra chuckle, low and warm despite the conflict. It’s almost unbelievable, until it’s followed up by the sensation of hands holding onto her forearms and lips pressing to the top of her head. That makes it definitely unbelievable. A lingering kiss, before her hands move up to Olivia’s shoulders and start to rub nice and slow.

“I was only looking for an apology, not to put you to the guillotine.”

“I apologized like five times in one breath, though,” Olivia replies as she lifts her eyes out from her palms.

“Yeah, but you panicked.”

“I did.”

“I was looking for more of a calm, collected, sophisticated apology. Maybe even slightly poetic. Rhyme optional.”

Olivia’s mortification is olympic swimming pool levels, but even then, she finds she cannot escape the desire to giggle at her humor when it shows. It’s both kind-hearted and measured. Her hands go to her lap and she sits up more, chin still tucked from bashfulness.

“I can’t rhyme for shit, but...I can do sophisticated.”

Cassandra grins. “I’ll take it.”

Olivia takes a deep breath, mostly for herself and her still racing heartbeat. “I’m sorry I went into your space uninvited. I should have asked, and communicated, and respected your boundaries. I will take care to do that from now on.” The few seconds of ‘deliberation’ are more than enough on what remains of her nerves.

Luckily, Cassandra ends the anguish with a soft smile. “Very impressive. I don’t forgive you, but it’s impre--”

“What!?”

Cassandra bursts into a laugh, leaning back as she puts her fingers to her mouth. “I’m sor-rry, I couldn’t h...help--”

“You could help it, Pentaghast,” Olivia smiles, and takes it upon herself to push Cassandra the rest of the way down by her shoulders until she’s laying flat and expectant. Rather than do as she did in the field and make it interesting, she jumps off the couch and jogs to the kitchen.

“Kiss my ass, I’m getting pasta!”

“Hey!” Cass jumps up, “do I not get any appreciation as the cook?”

“No! Psh, you must be new here.” Olivia grabs a bowl and takes hold of the serving spoon.

“Oh am I?”

“Yep! Fresh mea-yAGH!” She shrieks as Cassandra’s hands rush around Olivia’s sides so quick they tickle her, cutting her off in her triumph. She giggles and curls against her hold, dropping the thankfully hardy bowl onto the stove while the spoon remains in a death grip. It’s not enough calamity to distract her from the silly awe she’s in, being like this. And Cassandra just rests her chin on her shoulder and chuckles along. Her strength nearly picks Olivia clean up off the kitchen tile.

“Stoopp! Let me!--” Olivia gets out in between laughs, “let me eat, woman!”

“Woman!? Is that all I am to you?!”

Olivia tries to wiggle free, but it’s a lost cause. “Yes! Ugh!” she huffs as Cassandra inches them both away from the stovetop, “A heartless, tormenting, merciless woman!” She finally pivots around to face her, arms bracing against her shoulders. Cassandra is smiling so big and bright...just like the way she did in the picture. Her arms stretch up straight until they wrap around her neck loosely, and Cassandra only glows more. Their laughs simmer down into tired, but wonderful giggling, and Olivia feels nothing but the urge to keep her this way.

“But...you’re my woman.”

“Yeah?” Cassandra mutters back as their faces draw nearer, her hands travel low down Olivia’s back.

Olivia makes a ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue. “Yeah, but...only part time.”

Gullible if only for a moment, she catches on. “...Ugh. Ok, I deserve that.” They move together as she pushes Olivia back against the edge of the counter.

Olivia gasps and giggles more. “Is this the way you’re gonna try to dance with me tomorrow night? All nice and close, then bumper cars?” Olivia teases, tongue sticking out for added effect.

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night. The party..?”

Cassandra pauses and grins, but loses exuberance. She rubs Olivia’s arm lovingly before breaking from her. Her side-step brings her to the stove, where she picks back up the bowl Olivia dropped, and the spoon she surrendered; the pot needs stirring, apparently.

“Cass?” Olivia asks, feeling a bit left to hang, her hands going behind her and resting on the counter.

“Hm?”

“Is...everything alright?”

Cassandra nods, eyes still on her very important stirring. “I’m just hungry. Running you down must have reinspired my appetite.”

Olivia lowers a brow. “Uh-huh.” Her skepticism is either undetected or ignored, though, as Cassandra spoons the first generous spoonful into the bowl and hands it to her. Once it’s taken off her hands she goes to the second, and is equally as unceremonious with her own serving. Olivia stares down at the amazing looking meal in her hands but can’t seem to just enjoy it. Is she trying to ditch out? Is this a ditch-out attitude? Ugh, she does hate it. She’s just going for--

Cassandra hands her a fork. “I was thinking we could all ride together. I know how to drive Cullen’s car, anyways.”

“I mean, sure, but that means you’d have to…” it’s a wonder it takes her so long to figure it out, but when she does, the sentence doesn’t need finishing.

“Yeah, but that’s fine. I wasn’t planning on it, anyway,” Cassandra seems to read her thoughts anyways, and begins twirling the first bite of noodles around her fork.

“Okay. I just...I dunno, I thought you might want to since you did at Rylen’s…”

Cassandra shrugs, and leans her hip against the stove. Her forkful suspended in the air. “Yeah, but, that’s Rylen’s.”

Olivia scoffs, and begins forking around for a meatball to take a bit out of. “That place isn’t exactly child safety approved. What’s the difference?”

Cassandra swallows and tucks an ankle behind the other. “The difference is I don’t want to be drinking when I meet all your friends at once.”

“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad. I mean, I went whiskey-hunting up in the cupboards the first...time…” crap, this isn’t a shining example. “You know, nevermind.” She shoves her first bite into her mouth to help ignore the sound of Cassandra’s smug chuckling. At first, she’s pressed, but then she looks down again in amazement.

“What the fuck? Cassandra, this is so good,” she mumbles with a full mouth, preparing another forkful, “oh my God.”

“Have you never had spaghetti before?”

“Ugh! Yes, I have! That’s not…” she forks it into her mouth some more, reckless abandon and starvation taking over. “Holy shit.”

Cassandra smiles and keeps modestly twisting and preparing her mature, normal person serving. “Here I was worrying I wouldn’t compare to your standards.”

“What, am I Rachael Ray all of a sudden?”

“By the way Ellinor looks at you in reverent fear while you explain how you get your onions diced so fine, I’d say it’s a strong possibility.”

“It’s just the way you hold the kn--you know what, I’m gonna just…” Olivia shakes her head, wiping her dirty mouth on her wrist. “Did you just know how to do this?”

“No way, I learned a long time ago. It’s one of the few things I can cook off memory.”

Olivia eyes her as she takes another bite. She wants to ask where, or who, did. Someone, at some point, had to have taught her -- and maybe there’s a story. A funny story, or a cheesy one. It doesn’t matter what kind, as long as it is one that could help her discover more about what makes her tick. Olivia’s never wanted to know every crumb of a person like this before like she does now, for her.

“Hm. Good to know, but I think I wanna know if you got the better bowl.”

Cassandra peers up, nonplussed. “What? But, it’s the same dish…”

Olivia draws herself in, step by devious step. “You sure? ‘Cause I think I gotta do a quality check.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. This is a democracy, right?”

Cassandra snorts, twisting another forkful just as Olivia is about to collide with her. She holds it out carefully, bowl underneath for insurance. “You are ridiculous.”

“Mhm,” Olivia repeats, before she takes the bite with glee.

“And this is a democratic-republic, woman.”

“...Woman?” she asks, but with her mouth full, it sounds more like ‘wuhmin.’

They link eyes, and Cassandra shakes her head slow. “You heard me.”

Olivia swallows, wiping the corners of her mouth and proper, before she sets down her bowl off to the side. She does the same with Cassandra’s, so that it can rest beside hers.

“Say that to my face,” she dares, pitting her torso against hers.

In return, Cassandra tilts her head, hand wrapping around her. “I just did. That was kind of the point.”

“You really don’t know how to play along with things without critique, do you?”

“I just don’t like double-standards.”

Their mouths veer in close as Olivia’s hands slide up her Cassandra’s arms. “You don’t like a lot of things.”

“No, but I like you.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Oh? Prove it.”

That’s the kind of thing you say right before you get kissed so well the world could end around your feet and you wouldn’t care: which is exactly why she said it. And the competitive look in Cassandra’s eye doesn’t disprove it. But just as she’s about to make her move, a ruckus erupts on the door. Out of nowhere Cassandra’s hold turns from casual to protective, and she whirls around to face the corner where the door is shaking from what sounds like hooves rather than fists. It isn’t long until the perpetrators are identified.

“Cass! I really gotta pee, help a guy out!”

“Yeah, Cass!! wake up, grandma!”

“Answer the group chat!!”

Three voices, all somewhat slurred, and definitely gregarious. Cassandra’s shoulders release and she moans in disgust, letting go of Olivia and marching towards the door to save it before the hinges break. She opens the door wide and fast, and two of the three stumble in while she stands by.

The boys make various ‘woah’ sounds as they collect themselves. Olivia recognizes one of them, the guy who opened the door at Rylen’s party. Which means he must be Rylen, of course. The other has a fresh undercut and is wearing a white v-neck and jeans, too well-dressed for a jock she’d think. The cloud of Axe-smelling odor overtakes the room and makes Olivia’s nose itch.

“What have I told you all about coming over on the weekends?” Cassandra asks, indignant.

They all straighten up. The third of them, a woman with brown hair tied back and wearing jean shorts and a sports bra underneath a flannel, walks in with keys in-hand. “You said...uh...call?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I said.”

“We’re just stopping by! We cut through campus on the way home. A break was in order.” She glides on through between the two others, immediately spotting Olivia standing with a thoughtless bitch face on. Or, she must be, because she stops dead in her tracks, and even backs up.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry,” she puts his hands up, “I didn’t know--”

“Hey! You’re Ellinor’s friend!” Rylen manages to collect himself. He shoots a look at Cassandra and smiles big, “wait...what are you two doing wi--”

“You said you had to use the bathroom,” Cass is quick to usurp, still glaring.

Rylen’s happy-go-lucky act subsides, and he keeps his head down as he walks off out towards the hall. He gives a “Yes, Ma’am,” before disappearing completely.

“Sorry, Cass,” the one in jeans says as he pulls out a chair and sits sideways. “We haven’t been...uh...well, we’ve had a few.” He whisper yells it like he’s trying to tell a secret across a room. Oh boy.

“I couldn’t tell,” she replied, shutting the door and going to the cabinet. “You need water?”

“Nah!”

“Uh huh, okay,” she takes a couple plastic cups out and goes to the sink.

While she is busy filling them with tap water, Olivia is still there like a Greek statue, unsure of what to do. Jocks in close proximity like this feels...odd. Like they’re just as apt to sniff her hair as shake her hand; or maybe that’s just her snobbery. She takes hold of her elbow and slides herself up on top the counter to the right of the stove, reminiscent of her climbing escapade at Rylen’s house, only now she’s just trying to keep out of the way rather than day drink.

The seated guy’s gaze flickers over to her, as if he just now realizes she’s there, watching. “Hey, I’m Krem. I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he waves.

She nods once, and manages a grin. “Hello.”

“So your name is Hello? Is it a f-family name?” he gurgles out the last half, unable to keep himself from chuckling while the other stands wide and joins in. Oh great, they’re both laughing at her, and she’s only said one word. Can she phone a friend? Surely Ellinor knows what to do.

“Krem, cut it out,” Cassandra hands them both their cups. “This is Olivia. Olivia, these are some of my teammates, Krem and Lysette. You already know the brute using too much of our soap in the bathroom.” She returns to Olivia’s side and places her hand on the stove handle where a clean towel hangs.

Olivia side-eyes her, before the staring from both of them provokes a response. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Cass, is this the girl you--”

“Not a word, Lys.”

“...Right,” Lysette answers, rolling her lips shut and looking off to the side. “Well, good to meet you finally. We see you on the field with Ellinor all the time!”

“Yeah, we...we do that,” Olivia shrugs, but it comes off a little mechanical in her attempt to be approachable.

Krem finishes a gulp of water. “I think we had a class together. Was it anthropology…?”

“Oh, hah, no it couldn’t have, I haven’t taken any anthro classes here.”

“...Oh! Gotcha. Hm. I wonder who that blonde was then…”

“There are quite a few of us around. We have a local chapter established. We call ourselves “The Bleach Bunnies.””

They both laugh, a bit uncoordinated, but they laugh. Cass shoots her a grin, but in her Captain persona, she can’t shake her vigilance for her inebriated peers. A door opens from out in the hall, and heavy feet track on the carpet towards where they are all congregated.

“So, Liv,” Rylen dusts his hopefully freshly washed hands off, “you have eyes for our Master and Commander, here?”

Cassandra growls. “Rylen.”

“No, no, Cass! This is tradition--”

“Since when is it ‘tradition’?”

“Since uh, 2003! Approxim-manly!” He waves a hand dismissively, and Cassandra rolls her eyes and snorts with frustration. “Now, look. You’ve let Cullen get all the action from us even though you’ve been having a little escapowerade all on your own.”

“Esca...power..?” Olivia tilts her head and looks to Cass for answers, but she’s above trying to figure out the linguistics of the situations. The scene from Finding Nemo where Marlin yells ‘it’s like he’s trying to speak to me, I know it!’ comes to mind.

“You know, a randall-view--”

“Okay, okay,” Krem saves his friend from further butchering the English and now French language, “I think she gets it, dude.”

“Alright, fine! But she has to do the thing!”

“What thing?” Lysette asks, folding her arms against her leather bomber jacket.

“She has to do a shot!”

Do jocks just test each other for every little rite of passage with shots? Is that all there is to their courage? Jesus Christ. Olivia waits for him to say something, anything, to clue in that he’s joking. Or that he’s wrong. But he just stands there, t-shirt, khakis, crocs and all, hands sliding into his pockets and chest puffed out like he’s the big ol’ man of the house.

“Rylen, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Olivia says calmly.

“Oh? You think yourself above the rules?”

“No, I think myself already indebted to you in the amount of half a bottle of whiskey, the one I nabbed out your cupboard about…two? Three? Weekends ago. I prepaid my hazing process.”

They all go quiet, eyes and mouths agape at varying degrees. Even Cassandra has teeny bit of a wince on her lips.

Rylen, now rebuffed, blinks like that white guy gif. “Uh...oh. Indeb-ted.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh...that would...yeah that would do it. Wait, but, I thought Elli--”

“She had the rest of it, but she shared that with Cullen. I alone took down the first half.”

“But...but you’re tiny.”

Cassandra scowls while the others try not to giggle. Olivia only shrugs a second time, and picks up her bowl of spaghetti and brings it to her lap.

“What can I say: the shorter the woman, the closer to hell, Rylen.” A bit more comfortable, she lifts the fork of noodles to her lips. For some reason the other two start to making low noises of ‘oohs!’ and ‘uhh!” which seems to mean they approve? Or are at least entertained. It occurs to her that this must mean she bested him.

“Good one, Olive,” Krem remarks, so cheerful that she doesn’t have the heart to correct him on her name.

“I think that is answer enough,” Cassandra agrees, shifting her weight onto her feet. “I think you all should get going, it looks like the night’s just begun for you.”

“Ah, yeah, shit,” Rylen shakes his shoulders and saunters with that wide machismo walk, sizing Olivia up some more in his inebriated state, before he ushers them all with him. It all happens as quickly and rumbly as it began, and they stampede back from whence they came with much less fuss. A symphony of “Later, Cass!” and “Sorry, Cass!” with one “See ya, Olive!” as the cherry on top of a socially-awkward sundae. At last the door shuts, swiftly locks, and the quiet is welcomed back into the room. The nice, sober quiet.

Cassandra comes back, palms pressed to her thighs before she uses them to rub her face with a little exasperation. “Ugh. That won’t be the end of it.”

“Do they come around often?”

“More during the season, but...now it’s playoffs, so I don’t know. Rylen’s place tends to be headquarters, but sometimes...they just...ugh.” She elects to stand in the middle of the tile floor and fold her arms. She still looks a bit anxious, trying to decompress from the rush of events. Olivia can’t help but fixate on it while slicing a meatball that’s too big for one bite. Did that actually scare her?

“Hey,” she holds up the forked half and offers it, and takes on her best ‘Rylen’ voice, “I think you need more meat, bro.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes and grins with dread. “Don’t even start.”

“Bro, come on, get that protein. How else are you supposed to get--”

“No one ever says ‘get that protein,’” she chuckles and walks to her, and Olivia spreads her knees to invite her in; something she happily plays along with. All trapped in her hold, Olivia feeds her the sacred bite, and tries not to burst into giggles again.

“Do you still need your proof of my affection for you?” Cassandra inquires, wiping the corner of her mouth and then resting her hands on Olivia’s thighs.

There’s the penchant to continue the jest and say no: put up a fight and see where it gets her. Olivia is always ready for more playful fighting. But what can you say to a woman who was ready to deploy herself as a human shield against the unknown forces on the other side of a burgeoning door?

“I think I’m good.” She sets down her meal in favor of the rim of Cass’s hood and brings her in even closer.

“Are you sure? Because I did have a plan of action.”

“A plan?” she says hushed, “and what is this plan, exactly?”

“Uh...debating over whether to watch Titanic or Love, Actually. Then debating over the acting abilities of either cast. Then...more debate about the historical accuracies and politics that you will inevitably bring up when a male character is awful or another character is racist--”

“Or classist. You forgot classist. I hate that shit.”

“Yes. Classist.”

“Yeah.” Her smile widens, and she knocks noses with her playfully. “I suppose that all could be evidence to further support your claim. I can oblige. We should get started though, it’s already kinda late and I might have forgotten my ID to get into my dorm after 10...again...because I’m a dumbass.”

“Or you could just not go home.”

Olivia’s stomach erupts into butterflies drenched in pasta sauce and garlic seasoning, so much so her back arches like she’s being secretly zapped up with electricity. “I...could also do that.”

“What, you don’t want to?”

“No, I do, I guess I’m just...nevermind. I’m down!”

She smiles again. “Okay, good.”

“On one condition.”

Cassandra blinks and stops just as they are about to kiss. “Hm?”

“Only...if we do the thing I wanted to do the first night I stayed over.”

“You...you still want to make a pillow fort?”

Her shoulders bunch up in pre-eminent glee. “Yeeaaah.”

Cassandra sighs, but it doesn’t sound completely out of patience. “Alright, fine, you drive a hard bargain.”

More butterflies. More spaghetti butterflies. I can’t wait to brag about this to Ellinor, she’s gonna be so jealous. Yeah Cullen can eat two burgers in five minutes flat but can he say that he made a pillow fort?! Can anyone? This is some next-level shit. They kiss to seal the deal, and to her delight, she tastes like marinara.

#college au update #adventures of ellinor and olivia #day & age #friendship fic!#modern thedas au #WOOOOOO I LOVE ME SOME FUNNY FLUFF

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theabominableblogger · 5 years

Text

Rewatching “Gotham” S5E4

Not in chronological order, yaaaayyyy...

Also the other reaction posts for Episodes 8-10 are still a work in progress so hang on!

My sister watched it with me (as well as another episode in S5 and we both plan on watching the series finale together) so my comments will be in bold, and hers will be in regular font. Author’s notes courtesy of me will be bolded and italicized.

AN: I managed to record our reactions to this episode and hopefully I can transcribe what I said into this post.

This is going to be fun.

“Shut up and die [Oswald].” *starts singing “Waking Up in Vegas” by Katy Perry*

You are really going to hell.

I am. It’s a curse.

*Recap shows Haven blowing up* Welp.

Ahhhh that freaking shot [of the burning teddy bear]

Hell of a shot to open with

MMMMM....

Also that one [of the people getting out]. That one’s good.

This whole opening just leaves you so numb.

Right? Holy shit.

And I do like that the other villains are so shocked and horrified at this.

Right, yeah.

Yeah, like you have Penguin and Ed and the other people are like “Oh my God...”

Yeah...

Oh you better not-

*Barbara points her gun at an unsuspecting Oswald* Oh come on, his back is turned!

Not right nooowww!

That’s bullshit!

*both look uncomfortable when we hear a baby crying in the background*

Everyone’s just kinda grabbing each other!

*grabs my sister and shakes her by the shoulders* It’s like “Jim!” “Harvey!” “Oswald!”

*one more time* “Bruce!” No, I’m kidding.

*laughs* Christ!

Yeah, whenever they use orange lighting in this show, it’s like “Ah yes, give me more!”

Except you know it means shit’s about to go down.

I know.

Or some shit has already gone down.

*Jim looks at the ruins of Haven* Shiiit...

*Harvey hands back the badge Jim gave to Will* Nooooooo....

*sighs*

Nooooo... come on. God dang it.

*Opening titles roll* So yeah, how’s that for an opening?

Noooo...

“As of now, death toll stands at 311.” Jesus!

“49 injured, more than 2 dozen left unaccounted for.” *very softly* Oh my God.

I swear to God she’s [Secretary Walker] an al Ghul somewhere.

AN: This was actually recorded a few weeks ago. Little did I know...

“But whoever destroyed that building can't destroy the hope we've built.” That’s not gonna do shit!

Yeah, that one lady in the crowd’s like “Oh my God...” SAAAME!

That’s not gonna do shit, Jim!

“How are you [Jim] gonna stop it from happening again?!?” Good question! Honestly right now, Jim, you’re not lookin’ so hot.

I know!

Luciusss!!

“Nothing makes sense anymore.” Someone say “It’s Gotham.” Please God!

“SELINA!” They just leave his [Bruce’s] ass there...

God... poor Bruce.

That’s gonna be nightmare inducing.

Yeahhh-

*Some of Ecco’s goons come in* OH NOOO COME ON!

Ohhh the Ecco goons!

Can I preemptively say “[expletive] that noise?”

*chuckles*

Also, I love this bit right here:

*laughs when Bruce tries throwing a wrench at a goon and missing him by a long shot* Worth the shot, buddy!

Ugghh, so close!

*Alfred comes to the rescue* AL-FRED!

YES!!

LET’S GO!

YESSS!

“I was afraid you didn’t get my signal. Lucius said the range was only a couple of miles.” Where’d he get that?!?

*at same time* What is that?!?

We already get that he’s Batman: he’s pulling solutions out of his ass.

It’s Lucius.

I guess.

“How did that happen?” “I [Bruce] let my guard down.” *aside* You do that a lot, buddy! You’ll do it more in the future!

“She’s [Selina] gone after Jeremiah, alone.” *silently hurrahs*

OK, why is she [Barbara] wearing like a dominatrix outfit?

I mean, her last outfit was covered in filth so... also she has Penguin’s hair.

Yeah but- the leather corset? Really? C’mon...

“We heard people talking about a shady guy working around Haven before it blew.” “This is Gotham. You’re [Barbara] gonna have to do better than ‘shady guy.’“ *both giggle*

“How about a location? A building in the northeast corner of Harlow Park. He says the guy's holed up there.” Also, they really need to release an official map for this because I have no idea where everything is.

They really need to.

Like I know that they use the actual No Man’s Land map

Right... but this continuity strays so much from regular DC continuity that not all of that might apply.

Yeah. It’s like “Oh the Soothsayers are in the Granton district in the Dark Zone” and I’m like “Well where is that?!?”

Yeah.

Amusement Mile?!? I know Ace Chemicals is in the Dark Zone.

Of course it is!

It’s near Crime Alley.

‘Course it damn well is!

But Crime Alley’s in Firefly’s zone. I think, yeah.

Que interesante...

Ohhh that lightinggg!

*Penguin and Co. wait for Jim in the precinct* Ohh c’mon... c’mon dude.

Digging the eyepatch on that guy [henchman] though

*mouths along with Oswald saying “woefully apparent”*

“…you [Jim] are outmanned, outgunned, and out of options.” *sings* OUTNUMBERED, OUTPLANNED!

Hey yo, I’m gonna need a right hand man!

*groans* I’m already dreading this.

“Take all you can carry.” Arm yourselves to the teeth. You’re gonna need it.

Also, they did not kill the dog.

Oh thank God.

Just to let you know!

“WE’RE NOT GONNA KILL THE DOG!”

TZE CHUN, THANK YOU!

“What do you [Jim] say, partner?” Don’t ever say that again.

Yee-haw.

You’ve yee-d your last haw.

*laughs*

*Ed wakes up* Nooo, who gives a shit about Ed? Who gives a shit? I don’t give a shit!

*aside* It’s gonna become a lot more important.

I like this music here [when Ed investigates the suitcase] actually

*both end up scatting it*

Just sounds like they’re banging a bunch of coconuts together.

*both sing* BIG ONES, SMALL ONES, SOME AS BIG AS YOUR HEAD!

*imitates Ed saying “I’ve been on a trip!” hand gesture included*

*both tilt our heads in unison to read the message on Ed’s hand*

“KNOWS WHAT?!?” Me.

Oh my God...

That’s the campaign poster [of Oswald] in S3!

Also I like how the cop cars have the grills and bars on the front and on the windshield.

Yeah... smart move!

“To hell with Penguin. Haven wasn't your fault.” “I [Jim] told the people it was safe. I made them into a target.” You know Penguin’s right there! He can hear you.

*One of the cop cars drive past Jim* Don’t park in the puddle! Noooo that’s what they diddd-

No they didn’t. Nevermind.

*giggles when Oswald pulls out a megaphone*

“There goes the element of surprise.” *both laugh*

Oh my God, he freaking winked at Jim! Oswald, you-

Oh noooo...

*Another shot at the group* Yep.

“We’re sitting ducks out here.” “And one Penguin. Hey Oswald, why don’t you crawl out there, grab that bullhorn, tell him to come out here quietly?” *both laugh*

*both imitate Oswald’s insulted “Yooouu…”*

“Pretty cozy up here. Thanks guys.” C’mon buddy! C’mon!

*claps hands* Give us him!

Give us the goods!

Give us!

“Zsasz?!?” Yassss....

“Oh hey guys, what’s up?” *both laugh*

Oh my God, I’ve missed him!

*Victor blows Oswald a kiss* YAASSSS!!

ZSAAAAAAAAAASZZZ...

ZSAAAAAAASZZZZ....

ZSAAAASSSZZZZ HONEY!

ZSAAAASSZZZZ!

*giggles* Yaaasss....

Oh my God what. Is that Selina?!?

No, that’s Ed.

Freakin- what is it with him and the bad disguises?!?

But like he got through the entire precinct like that!

Everyone wasn’t paying attention! If they were paying attention, they would’ve just ripped it [the blanket] off of him!

I know!

“I can still see your face.” “Not when I do this, you can’t.”

*laughs*

It’s literally that!

It is.

*Ed runs into Lucius* Ohhh yess! I really like these two interacting.

Lucius!

“I am given and I am taken. I was there from your first breath and I will follow you until your death.” Oh screw off!

Your name.

“Call it a personal matter.” I love that!

His little poses!

Yes yes!

“Well I'm [Ed] guessing you [Lucius] don't want money, because, uh, it's worthless. I don't tend to carry snacks on me. And if I had any bullets, I would just shoot you and take the folder.” I really want somebody to be like “I’ll give you a load of bullets for a box of Cheez-Its.” “DONE!”

*laughs* Would you like the other half of this cosmic brownie?

My God, THIS MAN GOES FREE!

You know who Chris Chalk kinda reminds me of? The ally guy from “Conquest of the Planet of the Apes?”

Yeah, it does...

Hari Rhodes! That’s the actor!

*giggles insanely when Ed tries to take the file from Lucius and utterly fails*

What the frick?

“I [Victor] did not make that building go boom, Jim.” *both laugh*

What a way to say that.

“You gave up any shred of honor long ago! Why should we believe a snake like you?!?” “Because I would never take credit for somebody’s else’s work?” *raises pen in air in agreement*

Well duh!”

“Is this about Sofia Falcone? You should really move past that. It’s not healthy.” *both giggle*

This man...

This man! He was probably raised in the South. He would probably go “Hey y’all! You’ve yee-d your last haw...”

Noooo noooo... he feels more like a California guy.

Yeah... *starts singing the theme song for “The OC”*

*Everyone starts firing at Zsasz* Zsasz is just like “Nope!’

“Nope!”

That’s the most casual duck. Just rolls out of the way!

Come on, Jim!

I’m kinda wondering why they never got “Um guys, there’s a freaking concrete wall between windows. He could just hide behind that!”

Or they could just like aim at an angle.

Yeah...

Get in the room!

This isn’t rocket science.

*both crack up when Zsasz goes for a drink break*

*still laughing* What an asshole!

*Jim body slams Zsasz to the ground* WHAA-

LET’S GO!

Right through the snack table!

And they destroyed his bowl of chips.

“[Victor] Glad to see you’re still with us.” This man has never given a shit in his entire life.

“Thank you, thank you. You were great. Glad there are no hard feelings.” I’ll be here all week. Try the veal!

*laughs* That was priceless.

“Allow me [Oswald] to deal with him [Victor].” No!

No!

“If he did this, I need to know if it was a part of something larger.” Jim, you’re always a part of something larger! READ THE SCENE!

Oh my God, they got Zsasz sitting in the back. Zsasz is probably gonna like try to strike up a conversation.

“So, how was life?” “Oh my God, shut up....”

It’s that bit in “Civil War:” “So you like cats.”

“Sam.”

This is Tony Stank!

*Selina follows Ecco and the new followers into the work site* Oh here we go, here we go. Here we go!

Oh Jesus... the belly of the beast.

Also, that place must smell like just terrible.

Right?!??! If this place doesn’t smell like an armpit, then...

*Sykes dies* ...oh God.

“Well, not with that attitude you’re not.” *leans far and away from screen*

Bitch.

“Everyone, let’s reach inside and dig a little deeper, shall we?” You prick.

*turns towards me* Don’t you dare [sing]

*leans away when Jeremiah licks blood off his knife* HI THANKS NO BYE!

*both groan in disgust*

YOU NASTY! YOU TWO [Jeremiah and Ecco] DESERVE EACH OTHER, ya- mmmmmm!

Honestly though, I am kink-shaming. I am kink-shaming so hard.

*chuckles* They’re carrying his [Sykes] body out in a wheelbarrow.

OK, but like the Tim Curry voice- that’s an affectation! He’s just putting that on to sound impressive.

*laughs when Jeremiah stops talking to himself and awkwardly clears his throat when Ecco walks in*

He’s like “Mm-mm! Sorry! Helloooo!”

*Jeremiah grabs Ecco by the neck to inspect her scar* Noooooo...

He’s lookin’ right at the bullet...

Eeuughh...

“Bruce Wayne, and his sidekick Curls? Or is he the sidekick?” That’s still such a great line.

“And Curls can walk. Really well. Especially… for a paraplegic.” *done*

*softly laughs in shock* Oh my God...

*Jeremiah purrs appreciatively at Ecco* How have these two not eaten each other alive at this point-

*sinks down in chair when Jeremiah dismisses Ecco* Oh my God, that was a ghost kiss! I HATE YOU!

“OK recruits, let’s do like my daddy did before my sixth birthday and move out!” *both laugh*

That is a hell of a line!

*Selina follows Ecco and her group* Yeah, you see him [Jeremiah] in the background just whip around!

Yeaahhh!

That was like a horror movie thing, where the monster just whips around. You can imagine a little scare chord in the background.

Right?!?

Also, I like how they establish that relationship in like under a minute.

Yeah...

Like yes, that is how you do it.

That was good.

Eat that, “Suicide Squad!”

“Evidence of deflagration would suggest something with a slower burn rate, like gunpowder or nitroglycerin.” “But for this level of destruction, that would require a bomb that's 20 cubic feet of explosive material.” Or a baZOOKA!

People just really love their RPGs in this show.

People just really love bazookas. Bane uses one in the Bane Red Trailer

“Man walks into a room, alone, and is later found murdered. There are no windows, and one door, which is locked from the inside.” *whispers* Toxic gas. No I’m kidding.

“The bomb was the building.” *imitates the way Ed says “the bomb”*

I love that.

*Ed and Lucius figure out how the building blew up* This makes the forensics class part of me just so happy.

“Ow! That’s a really nice table.” *both chuckle*

“We got a dozen witnesses that saw you [Victor] walk out of that building before it went kabooey.” *in unison* Kabooey.

“Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's.” *both laugh*

Man, I missed him!

I know! I’m gonna miss him so much!

“And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really wanted to kill you you'd be dead.” If you guys could aim in this show.

Right?

I mean it’s not like the *pretends to shoot around something*

“If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars.” Can we see them?

*gives me a weird look*

His scars! We only see them once [way back in S1].

I’d [Victor] let Alvarez do it. He’s handsome.” *both chuckle*

OK, but if the Gotham fandom isn’t already shipping them, I’m gonna be very disappointed.

*tries not to say anything without laughing*

Your stunned silence is very reassuring.

“Looks like you need a new suspect.” *in Southern drawl* Looks like it wasn’t Zsasz!

*Oswald arrives at the precinct* Go to hell!

I love that shot of him.

“I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide - a modicum of grease.” A what of what?

He said “grace” like “grease.”

What of what? I don’t know. I don’t know diction anymore.

“Oh, I did not expect you to go soft, Jim... Actually, I did, which is why I didn’t come alone.” OH COME ON!

*nods*

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?

“Torturing- torturing Zsasz into confessing won't give the people justice.” And it’s not a very effective way of getting answers either! Because they’re gonna say anything to make it stop.

Also, take a shot every time Oswald refers to Jim as “old friend.”

You’d be dead.

“There will be a trial!” I still really wanted an episode like the “Trial” episode from the animated series. That would have been so cool!

*waves at screen when Zsasz gets escorted out* Bye Zsasz... you’re gonna be high as a kite the next time we see you.

We see him more in this episode.

OK.

The last episode he’s in, he’s just like “Whaauggh!”

*laughs* What a way to go out though.

Harvey just tackles you?

I mean, if I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna go out high as a paper kite too.

*gives her the strangest look*

*laughs* You’re judging me so hard!

*shakes head* I can’t believe you.

I say that like I know what the hell getting high even feels like.

I love that this lazy ass [Haven bomber] just like leaves all the stuff there. He’s like “Oh, we gotta scatter it! Kick!”

“I truly hope you find whoever did this and make them pay.” So he [Ed] didn’t do it.

*shakes my head like the liar I am*

OK...

“I appreciate your help, Ed. Couldn’t have done it without you. If you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it.” *chuckles*

[Ed] You have one friend. Kind of.

He so badly wants to say “No, god dammit!” but he can’t!

Censorship!

This show isn’t rated high enough. Let Edward say [expletive]

*wheezes* He’s not that kind of person who would say that.

Oswald would!

He would. I made that meme thing!

Yeah that’s true.

Ed would catch himself and go “Oh... fart.”

“PENN, WHERE THE F-”

*both laugh*

Oh, that was brilliant*

*The crowd at the trial becomes unruly* Fight, fight, fight!

Oh God...

“Look at them, Harvey.” Not another speech!

Now see, that [mural behind the staircase in Oswald’s place] is like Bioshock! That big- isn’t there a big mural in the-

Yeahhh, in the church, yeah!

For the workforce?

I dunno, this is more like OG Bioshock instead of Bioshock Infinite.

Yeah.

Because we’re past the religious stuff.

Ohh the purple lighting behind him [Oswald].

“So, will I [Victor] be appointed a lawyer? I feel like my rights are being violated.” I mean, technically they are.

Wait, they actually have somewhere there like transcribing the whole thing [trial]!

I also like that he’s [Oswald] wearing the sash that the choir members wore.

Yep...

He [Oswald] paid off the witnesses though! This is-

No! Yeah, they said money is useless, so why would Oswald pay them off?

True... but this is obviously just a sham trial.

It is! It’s a kangaroo court. I love “The Dark Knight Rises.”

Also I like that goon in the background that looks like Neo from “The Matrix.” With the long coat- no, that’s Morpheus. Nevermind.

“It was a bomb.” *chuckles* It was a big one.

“For months now, you've been hearing me [Jim] say help is coming.” IT AIN’T!

“This is not justice.” This is where I pull out that quote from the first “Dark Phoenix” trailer and just insert it in here.

“I’ll [Oswald] consider that your [Jim’s] closing argument.” That was like his opening and closing argument!

Though it did put me in mind of a much better speech from “Camelot”: “They have forgotten justice, they want revenge, revenge the most worthless of causes.”

*Crowd calls Zsasz guilty* What the hell were you [Jim] expecting?

Welp.

And Zsasz is like “Great...” Good job, Jim!

Thanks for that, Jim!

Great job!

There is a guillotineeee!

Oh come onnn!

They probably got it from like the natural history museum.

Sheesh...

Also, why would they have a guillotine in the natural history museum of Gotham?

Because this place is [expletive] up all the way up to the ears.

“Any last words?” [Oswald] YOU PUT TAPE ON HIS MOUTH, YOU ASSHOLE!

*laughs when Victor gives his muffled last words* He’s just stalling, I love it!

“Well said.” *laughs*

*Victor gets rescued at the last minute* Ohhh ho ho ho!

Shit, that was close!

*imitates Oswald yelling “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?”

I actually really hope we see Zsasz in the time jump.

I hope so.

I will be so happy.

*Jim shoves Oswald to the ground* MOM, HE PUSHED ME!

You self-serving asshole!

“What choice do I [Jim] have? Either I let him [Victor] go, or he's dead for something he didn't do.” Either that or it’s like the final scene from “Se7en.”

*very softly* Eesh...

WHAT’S IN THE BOX?!? No. Zsasz is not up for that.

No.

I think he begrudgingly gets along with Barbara so he wouldn’t do that.

“This city will never be what you it to be, Jim. It’s always gonna belong to the bad guys… like me.” Yes.

“What?” “Yeah, what?” *scoffs in hilarity*

“Give him your gun.” OK, I hate this because Jim wants him [Victor] to shoot him.

Come on...

He wants a shootout!

“Maybe I'm just tired of listening to you, Victor.” Jim, come on!

*groans in frustration*

I like that shot though [of Victor being offered Harvey’s gun]. It’s like one of the westerns, with the blurry background.

“Do it.” No...

Jim, what are you, stupid?

*sits back in relief when Victor turns him down* Oh thank God...

“So [Victor] get the hell out of my face.” So why did he [Jim] want a shoot out? He just wanted an excuse to arrest him again?

It’s guess it’s just kind of the built up anger. Plus the fact that everything Jim has tried to do has utterly failed.

Yeah...

So he’s at the end of his rope and given up everything.

That’s true, yeah.

Ooohh that’s [the lighting for that shot of the tunnel workers walking down the hall] cool.

Yeah, where the hell is this?

I don’t know... it looks like an old parking garage.

It does!

*All the tunnel workers get knocked out* Oh dear.

*claps when Bruce emerges from the shadows and catches up to Alfred* LET’S GOOOOO! Yess!

Alfred being a badass!

*laughs when Jeremiah starts fanning himself with his hat*

*done*

*mouths along with Jeremiah’s line about the river, with eyebrows and all*

“So what do we do when we feel like giving up?” “Dig a little deeper.” *has to sit forward in an attempt not to laugh/sing*

*still done*

*eyes widen when Selina walks up to Jeremiah and stabs him*

“Deep enough?” Let’s go.

Damn.

“Well Selina, I must say-“ Yeah, the Tim Curry voice is an affectation.

Yeah.

Stab number two. Stab number three.

*in unison* Four. Five! Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

God...

Ho-ly shit!

*Jeremiah drops to the ground* And he’s alive after that.

*shakes head*

*Selina gets hit in the head with a tool* Ohhhhhh! That oughta hurttt!

Yeah.... Jesus.

Also, you noticed like that he [Jeremiah] immediately calmed down like “Oh, it’s not Ecco, oh thank God- oh it’s just Selina.”

*laughs*

*Last shot of Jeremiah in the episode* He looks dead.

Yeah. Like how the hell did you survive getting stabbed in the stomach nine times?

Plus, in the next episode, there’s a doctor there. I think it’s some sort of surgeon.

Still though... damn...

*Ed is exhausted after climbing stairs* Mood, Ed.

“I hate stairs.” *laughs*

What a mood!

*sings* What a mood, what a mood, what a mighty big mood!

[1215] Oh Jesus...

Oh my gosh, the amount of times I’ve seen a ceramic rooster thing, ugh... that brings me back.

This poor old lady!

“You were on the roof and you had some kind of a rocket.” *softly* Oh my God...

*The old woman hits Ed over the head* HA!

*Ed starts to remember* Oh my God! He did it after all! Oh, you- eat shit, Ed!

*points at screen* Yeah that’s [the long hair and bowler hat] not a look!

*Ed blow up Haven in a flashback* Why would he even do it though?

Also, I like these Windows screensaver effects. *laughs*

Also, I wanna know how he [Ed] got the room number.

“I promise, I won't tell anybody.” “I know you won't.” Oh, c’mon, Ed!

No, c’mon! Ed, no! No no no!

*Ed shoves the witness out the window to her death* Eat shit and dieeeee...

*tries not to laugh* That’s from “Batman Forever!” Because he pushes the guy out the window in the wheelchair!

Ohhhh, eat shit and dieee-

OK, OK, here’s the thing. You’re gonna hate this ending because I hate this ending-

Oh God...

Because Jim and Barbara and it’s like-

What...

Yeah...

*yowls in frustration*

*can’t help but laugh* Same.

“[Barbara] Your tip didn't pan out.” “Well, I've got another one.” Nooo.

Jim does not need this right now.

He does not need this right now.

You’ve made a lot of shitty decisions this episode, Jim.

Yeah, everyone has. And these two have [throughout the show].

“No one knows what it’s like to be him.” *to the tune of the opening of 2001* Shuuuutttt upppp! SHUT UP!

Is this really the time for freakin’ anger sex?

I know!

“I told you to leave.” No.

*shakes head*

*both say varying degrees of “No” when Barbara gets super close to Jim*

Jim, no. No.

No.

*Jim grabs Barbara’s arm to stop her* Jim, no.

MMMMMMM!!!

*bolts out of seat when Jim and Barbara start to make out*

JIIM, COME ONNN!!!

*in the background* I’m goin’ out the window, bye!

Jim...

*comes back to seat when end titles appear* AND THAT IS THE end of the episode!

Nooooo!! Jiimmm, come on! COME ON!

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robinmagik · 6 years

Text

Bloody Nose

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Note: Warning!!! There’s a lot of cursing. Just like I curse a lot in my daily life, I curse a lot in my writing...which I should refain from cursing so much...in my writing. Lol (I suck at summaries just leav e me alon)

Summary: It’s a humid summer night in Gotham and after fighting crime, Jason just wants to rest in his and his girlfriends’ shared apartment but comes home to find it messy. Clothes on the floor and Y/n is just sitting on the couch with nothing but a tank top and panties liking pictures on her phone. An argument ensues. Who’s nose gets broken? Is it fluff or angst? Who knows.

“Don’t you fucking dare, y/n.” Jason threatens.

She dangled her blouse between her index and thumb. She is a messy bitch and he is an organized freak. While y/n didn’t give two shits about keeping her apartment clean, Jason was the one who did give two shits...too many shits in y/n’s mind. She figures it was because Jason didn’t have much growing up and now that he can have an apartment or a safe house he would like to keep it neat and clean. It’s not like y/n had a lot growing up either but she had more than him. Like stable parents who didn’t actually love each other but tolerated one another just for her and her sibling.

She always threw things around, leaving her socks on the floor and shirts and pants—all her clothing except her bras and panties because that was just pushing it and Jason would surely murder her.

“Don’t. Do. It.” He glares.

She grins and lets it go. “Oops.”

“I’m killing you!” He lunges at her but she runs off screaming at the top of her lungs. She ran around the apartment as he chased her. “Get back here!”

“No!” She shouts. She slips on a shirt and falls face first into the wall.

“Oh shit!” He rushes to her aid and then snickers.

“Shut up.” She sniffles, blood was running down her nose.

He bursts out laughing. “Serves you right!”

She lets the blood fall out of her mouth onto his hand that held her chin.

“Really?” He deadpans. He lifts her head up to examine and gasps in horror. “Oh my god!”

“What?!” She panics. “What?!”

“Nothing. Just a broken nose and a busted lip.” He chuckles.

Y/n sucks her teeth, glaring at him for worrying her.

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

“What for? It’s just a broken nose.”

“And a busted lip. It’s open, dollface.”

She sighs and mocks him. He took that a sign to go get the first aid. Jason thought y/n was cute when she did that, honestly it made him laugh for some odd reason. Actually y/n was just cute overall and knew how to make him laugh. He never said it out loud or thought it but he felt those three words; ‘I love you’ ‘I love her’. He felt those words deep in his scarred skin, deep in his broken bones, deep in his heart and it scared him. Though if he ran away, she’d hunt him down and kill him and then knock some sense into him. Jason comes back out to see her looking at her bloody hands. Y/n was a mess but she was his mess. He places the kit down and sits in front of her with his legs wide open with her in between them.

It was silly, she couldn’t help but smile when he cupped her face despite the pain. His hands were so big and rough yet gentle with her.

“You’re smiling like an idiot.” He say as he looks at the displaced bone.

“That’s ‘cos you’re cute.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not gonna think that in a few seconds.”

“What do you—’’

POP!

“SONUVABITCH!” She shouts in pain. “Ooooooohffffffuckmeeee!”

“Not tonight, princess.” He smirks.

“You cheeky boy.” She says through her teeth.

“C’mon, your lip is next.”

She leans in closer but didn’t let him touch the wound because she began talking.

“Guess you know how to do this type of stuff…being Red Hood and all.”

“Yeah and don’t forget, Alfred taught me some stuff too.”

“We love and respect Alfred in this house.” Y/n says with seriousness then she smiles lovingly at him. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“No. You’re not lu—“

“Don’t start with that, Jay. I am so lucky. I’ll fuckin’ announce it nation wide and even across the universe. I love you.”

He stares at her for a second before squeezing her chin and looking at her split lip.

“This is what you get for leaving your shit around the floor.”

“‘I love you too, y/n’ Oh thanks, babe.”

“You’re so stubborn.” He mumbles.

“You too, smartass.”

He chuckles. “Will you please let me do this?”

“I guess bleeding out won’t be a good option.” Her voice laced with sarcasm.

“No, it won’t be.” He responds with sarcasm as well.

Jason wrapped ice cubes in a towel and applied it to y/n’s busted lip with light pressure. It’s usually y/n the one stitching him up but now it’s the opposite. She got to be the one to stare as he cared for her. It was a nice angle. His lashes were pretty long. His hair was a bit oily since he hadn’t washed it due to late nights studying a case that he had been trying to crack. It was pushed backed which y/n was glad about because she could see more of his face. She could see the purple and green moon stamps under his eyes and the little details she missed before.

Y/n just wanted to take in all of him that she didn’t notice those tiny deets. God, he’s beautiful. The little faded freckles and the small scar on his cheek, it was all missed unless you were so close to his face, unless you paid complete attention. She looks for more details but he looks up and she’s taken aback by those eyes. She blushes and smiles.

“I know, I’m pretty hot.” He winks at her.

“Totes.”

Jason laughs. He takes the ice pack away and leans in to peck her lips. She whines wanting more than a peck.

“Kiss me more.”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll kiss you somewhere else.”

“Wher—ohhh! Ooooh, you naughty thing.” She grins lustfully.

He smiles and helps her up. They go to the bathroom to wash up.

As y/n ties her hair up to wash the blood off, she takes her top off leaving her breasts exposed. Jason looks at her through the large mirror in front of them as she splashes water on her face and chest. His chest tightened. He didn’t know what it was about that moment, maybe it was comfortable atmosphere around them or when y/n smiled so heavenly at him when she caught him staring like a fool in love, but the words left his mouth.

“Yeah.” He said. “I love you too.”

#my writing #i tend to writing too fast so if this seems rushed its because of that #here comes the tags #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood #batman #dc x reader #dc fanfic #batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfam fanfic

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the-roanoke-society · 5 years

Text

parts unknown.

alternatively titled: how charlie learned to stop worrying and love the gate.

just a little something for halloween featuring charlie hesketh, or agent zenith, or roanoke, @agent-nova, and technical officers drake, longma and wyvern. also starring the infamous agent andhrimnir.

there are some depictions of injury, gore, and sci-fi-induced stressful situations below the cut. proceed with caution.

... i am very sorry.

seraphim closed the front door behind her with a contented sigh, eyes flickering up to one corner of her specs as she did, checking the time in the u.k. merlin was probably dead asleep already, but she quickly typed out a message anyway: home safe. mission a success. love you. going on a food quest. message me when you wake up. next year i promise we’ll celebrate your birthday on the same continent. she winced as her stomach growled and she unzipped her jacket, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door.

it had been a second since she’d had just a routine, local exorcism call, especially with twins. she made a note to bring that up with carter and parker at some point. ‘did you know you two have a greater chance of being possessed? you remember that the next time you want to fuck with something you shouldn’t be fucking with, carter—‘ ‘oh my g—it was one time!’

it went off without any major hitches. the bridge of her nose was a little sore, but other than feeling she was about to devour the entire manor, no other adverse side-effects, not even the usual cold chills. she still had the father’s business card in her back pocket—he’d offered the estate free plumbing work for life.

some nights, seraphim loved her job.

and she loved it even more as she walked closer to the kitchen. someone was busy, and whatever they were doing smelled wonderful.

“hey tony. you’re up late, are that many people in and out right now?” she heard agent andhrimnir hum as she grabbed a magnet shaped like a tiny ufo, putting up rory linn’s aaa plumbing service card on one of the shared refrigerators.

“you that surprised given what day it is? besides, i scored a metric fuckton of squash from the market today. thought it’d be a good idea to get started on meal prep for the week, making up a few things people can just grab and heat up.”

“no, guess it’s not that surprising…” seraphim crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her biceps as she walked casually—a little too casually—towards andhrimnir, who just shot her a look as he tapped a wooden spoon against the rim of a giant, steel pot he had in front of him on the massive stovetop.

“… morgan.”

“yes, tony.”

“could i interest you in some mexican turkey and squash stew?”

she feigned ugly sobbing, “oh my god please.”

andhrimnir rolled his eyes. “you are so dramatic, go grab a bowl and i—“

they both jumped at the sound of heavy, quick footfalls crashing by the kitchen opening and then fading away. andrhimnir asked first: “… who the hell was that?”

“i—i think that was charlie? uhm, let me—go check on him, save me some of that, i’ll be right back.” people moving at a full sprint through the manor wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, but seraphim had only recognized charlie briefly, not who was behind him. what was going on?

behind her, andhrimnir just sighed, shaking his head. boys will be boys… but, given the holiday, maybe a little bit of shenanigans couldn’t hurt. he started humming thriller as he turned back to the stew, grabbing a little bit of cayenne pepper from the spice rack.

as soon as seraphim started walking down the hallway, heading towards the nearest door that went downstairs, she could hear muffled shouting. “—ch it!”

and she walked down the stairwell to the tune of longma, charlie and drake’s voices all chiming something like “catch it!” “don’t let it go over there!” “are you sure this is gonna work?” “we’re going to find out!”

“what on god’s good earth are you three doing?”

drake had a small, ornate box in his hands that seraphim was fairly sure he was not supposed to have, and was flanked by longma and charlie, who all just stared at her like deer caught in headlights. drake was on his knees on the floor by a corner, which looked—unnaturally dark.

“—this was drake’s idea.”

“charlie hesketh you traitorous bastard. this is the thanks i get for trying to show a little innovation and initiative.”

longma shrugged, “bro i think we can all admit that we just really wanted to use the box.”

“yeah, morgan, look, we got this gremlin fucker cornered and—“ but drake turned around and the corner was a lot lighter. “… uh-oh.”

charlie lifted his metal hand in a signal, and all four of them stood, listening.

there was a ten-second stretch of silence followed by a skittering noise that sounded like it was coming up by the ceiling. “ohhh shit there it goes!”

“‘shit’ is right.” now all of them were jogging along the wall, staring hard upwards at a vague blob of a shadow that almost wasn’t there, like cats chasing a laser pointer.

and they were jogging towards the gate.

“woah, woah, woah, stop—“ seraphim managed to grab charlie and longma by their arms but drake kept running froward. “drake get away from there, if it turns the gate on—“

“relax, i got this! crowley brought this back after he and andi were in yokohama like all last month. guess the head of the kingdom gave it to him as a thank you gift—“ drake had his eyes up, and wasn’t watching where he was going. they could still sort of see it, trapped up at a new high angle, and it startled them by chittering, like a squirrel. seraphim hadn’t heard one make a noise like that before.

“fergus said that this could trap anything. don’t you wanna see if that includes these little guys?”

longma scoffed, “yeah, and then told you to leave it alone three seconds later—“

“hey, i don’t remember you arguing with me to put it back twenty minutes ago asshole!”

“oh my god, enough! i literally just got home and am not in the mood to play step-mom!” seraphim pulled charlie and longma back a few more steps, “charlie, watch him, drake, get back here!”

“does this make you step-dad?” “shut it.” “yes sir.”

the chittering was getting louder, more rapid-fire. it sounded like nails falling on glass.

and then a hum.

the gate was on.

fuck.

but seraphim wasn’t the only one who moved forward on instinct to grab drake—charlie did too.

* * *

nova and he’d had a—well. he wouldn’t call it a fight, exactly. she was more just a little exasperated. not that charlie could blame her.

“charlie,” she’d groaned, moving his hands off of her waist. “i really, really, re-he-eally, need to get this done for wyvern. he wouldn’t have asked for my help unless it was really important. this math is—hieroglyphic. but i think if we can figure out which of the formulas is the right one, then everything will make a lot more sense.”

“what is it again?” charlie asked, frowning at the endless lines of numbers, figures, scattered across her desk. his hands may have moved from her waist, but they just traveled up to her shoulders. charlie rested his chin against the top of her hair. nova opened her mouth once, closed it, and then just shook her head.

“i’m—i think wyvern’s trying to come up something he called an emergency traceback. probably just as a sort of backup because of all the uh, critters running around downstairs. but this is... sort of some kind of mix of algebraic cartography, divination and like three other kinds of math that i haven’t used in a while.” her voice vibrated through his jaw, before she tilted her head back. “so. i need to concentrate. just—for a bit. okay?”

charlie grinned. “okay.” when he kissed her he was delighted to find that she tasted like the candy corn from earlier—which didn’t give him that good of an impetus to stop…

“mm… charlie, knock it off!” she playfully smacked him. “i just said not to distract me!”

“if you could taste you, you would understand.”

a furious blush overtook her face. “oh my g—go find someone else to bother for a while!”

he’d laughed roughly as he left their bedroom, thinking about going to the kitchen—he was positive that there was some of that oktoberfest craft stuff somewhere, and he’d grown a soft spot for agent andhrimnir, despite his sometimes prickly demeanor—when he had the wind knocked out of by him drake, who slammed into him at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.

as charlie was grunting on the floor, trying to re-inflate his lungs, he could he heard clicking go right by his ear. like a dog running on hardwood. “drake? what the bloody hell—“

“charlie! charlie, my bro, my dude, my buddy, my pal, how would you like to get in on something that i am a hundred percent sure will get us all promoted?”

charlie shook his head, blinking, as longma offered him a hand up.

“uh—why does this sound one of your normal ‘good intentions bad idea’ bits?”

“that’s because it is.” longma answered for him. “but in his defense, it did all come together like magic.”

“uh, yeah, like a gremlin just so happened to be down in the archives, which never happens, and we just so happened to like, rediscover this box that we can use to finally solve this issue? guys.” drake just made a grand gesture with his arms as soon as he stood up. “… it’s providence. like. we have to. it’s like god gave it to us with a big red halloween bow on it. c’mon, charlie, please?”

right at the second that charlie found himself with both the officers looking at him expectantly, he had two thoughts alongside each other.

one was that he hadn’t thought of his own brother in about a week. the stretches of time were getting longer.

the second was that the word ‘brother’ brought only muted images of james to mind now. pictures of drake, wyvern, longma—that is, drake, cody, and jeremy—were much clearer. more reflexive. much in the same way he realized that when he looked at seraphim, or succubus, he thought ‘sister.’ as natural as a rainstorm.

and when he looked at nova—at ellie—the first word was ‘love.’ and that was even more effortless these days.

strange, how this place had sort of rewritten his mental dictionary.

“… all right, i’m in. �� what are we doing?”

drake clapped him on the shoulder, and opened his mouth to speak, before glancing and then staring down the hallway.

charlie followed his gaze and his eyes landed on what looked like a tiny puff of charcoal smoke, hiding behind the leg of a side table.

and it would’ve continue to just look like a bit of darkness, until two bits of dim light blinked at him.

“what the fuck—“

“step one,” drake interrupted, whispering. “we have to catch that thing—“

as if on cue, it bolted,

and the chase was on.

* * *

the humming got louder, a pitch too deep. seraphim grabbed drake by the collar and flung him backward—straight into charlie, who basically caught him and tossed him.

and tendrils, like normal, formed in the gate’s mouth. but they weren’t the soft white that spawned from a normal jump. they were more of a milky pink, like the whites of an infected eye.

oh, this was bad. get out, get out, get out—

seraphim tried to sprint forward, stuck a hand out and tried to push charlie too.

but they both got caught.

longma and drake watched in muted horror as these pastel strands wrapped around both agents, starting from the base of their chest cavities and moving out in both directions. seraphim could not stop the panic building in her stomach, even as charlie was very gently lifted up and pulled to stand next to her.

they had seconds.

her eyes were wide and focused on drake’s face. he had tears in his eyes.

he couldn’t hear her. but he could read her lips.

go find jeremy and ellie. find us. ... it’s okay. it’s going to be okay.

seraphim wasn’t the only one whose heart was hammering. charlie was visibly trembling, his breath coming out in shaky gasps.

there was nothing they could do now.

“what—morgan, what’s happening—“

so she gripped his hand as hard as she could, as silence surrounded them, and they were torn line by line from home. “brace yourself. don’t let go of me. it’s going to be f—“

snap.

longma and drake stood staring at the spot where they’d been for approximately four seconds before getting up and sprinting to the monitors to try to find their signal in the aether, to try and track them as far as they could.

in the five minutes it took for them to find an estimate of where their exit split might have been—which was surrounded by coordinates that they hadn’t ever even touched—charlie and seraphim landed. and by ‘landed’ it was more ‘thrown into the side of a mountain hard enough to knock them out.’

* * *

seraphim wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes, blinking them a few times.

the sensation of an intense, dry heat made it hard to move. it was like she was lying in a tanning bed, or in direct sunlight on some lazy afternoon outside. and she almost closed her eyes and let herself be taken back under until she remembered how they got there. deep breaths. deep breaths.

charlie was lying next to her, blood oozing from his nose. it had formed a small pool by his mouth on the ground. her glasses were cracked, but—

no signal. just power. she grunted, lifting herself gingerly into a sitting position.

she didn’t wake charlie. not right away.

she didn’t want to scare him, so she took a few minutes while he stayed in the blackness to compose herself and try to get the fear off of her face as the weight of it hit her.

she was unable to tear her eyes away from the sky, and as she stared at it, she wondered what merlin would do.

charlie came to slower than she had, and seraphim turned as she heard him murmur, “ellie.”

“hey there big guy.” she prayed it didn’t sound like she’d been crying. “you ready to join me in this waking reality?”

his eyebrows went into a frown and seraphim sighed, feeling sweat form around her hairline. not the voice he wanted to hear. “don’t get up too fast—“

she didn’t have to tell him twice, as soon as he was on his knees he let out this long, low groan, his good hand going to the socket where his metal arm met his flesh. he glanced down at his side, “shit…”

“charlie? what is it?” he shifted around and she gasped.

the exit split had thrown him into the rock and right onto his arm. he hadn’t been able curl and protect himself from the machinery, there hadn’t been enough time. the socket had been driven upwards and inwards, tearing his skin open in places. he had a veinwork of blood going down his side, soaking into his v-neck. “okay… okay.” seraphim said quietly. “on a scale of one to ten, ten being it’s so bad you can’t walk, where’s your pain?”

charlie was taking huge, gulps of air, but it burned all the way down into his chest, and he coughed. “let’s say a very strong seven. i can—i can move. it’s fine. and i—“ there were whirs and clicks as he moved his arm, although he tried to hide from her that his range of motion was a little more limited than he was used to. “—can still use it. not broken. ellie can fix it when we…” his voice trailed off as his eyes lifted to the horizon. “… get home.”

seraphim was calm as he took in where they were.

the rocks beneath them were milk white, aside from where they’d been stained by blood. and they went on and on forever towards the skyline, equal parts rolling and jagged. whatever mountain range this was, they’d landed in the foothills.

if there anything else alive here, it was nowhere near them. the silence was thick.

“it’s—it’s really hot—“ he shook his head, trying to pull himself together, find any kind of solidity in his mind. his hand went to his face, rubbing it, wiping at the sweat. “morgan, are we—are we in hell?”

when seraphim didn’t answer him right away, he turned to her in time to see her gazing upward.

the sky—wasn’t a sky at all.

it was a city, hung upside-down, black, violet, and solid. it glittered overheard like a palace ceiling. a tower spiraled towards them in the center, with rings and rings of buildings going outward from it, mimicking, charlie thought ruefully, the mouth of the gate.

the light they were seeing it by was bright white. it seemed to be coming from the line in between both halves of the world, where they didn’t—couldn’t?—touch.

“no, charlie. we’re not in hell. i uh—“ she didn’t want to lie. “i think we might be somewhere worse.”

* * *

drake knew just from glancing at the map that they’d been ripped out of the general continuity. he knew that where they’d gone—time did not flow there like it did here.

they had still been asleep where wyvern came barreling down the stairs, out of breath, with ellie close behind him.

“my glasses went off, what happened?” he demanded, his accent coarse in his panic. he found his anger evaporating when he saw the looks on drake and longma’s faces.

at first, neither of them could speak.

until ellie broke their cautious quiet with a question.

“… drake? drake, where’s charlie?”

#agent seraphim #agent nova #agent zenith #charlie hesketh #starry eyes #hymns & holograms #technical officer wyvern #the washington avenue project #technical officer longma #agent andhimnir #technical officer drake #mentions of:#agent crowley #agent seance #starlight kingdom #james hesketh #agent hood #agent thorn #(look for 'homecoming' closer to december.)

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 2

(Mind your Business)

M’Baku x Reader

*Part 1* *Part 3*

Plot: You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking. Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports. But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Computer Love, interruption, disrespect.

*Previously*

You hadn’t texted M’Baku yet and it was a little later than you anticipated getting back. That fat ass would make for a great comfort to you but a FaceTime will have to do. You step out, toweling down and wrapping a robe around you. You sit on the bed, grabbing your phone up, and going to his name. It rings, and rings, which is odd because you thought he would be nipping at the bit to get in touch with you by now. You get a text then, ‘Hang on. I’ll call you right back’

You lay back on your pillow in annoyance, wondering what the hell he is doing. With the day you had, you still found time to call him, but here he is delaying things when you could be asleep.

Your phone rings and you pick it up, revealing his face smiling widely, sitting on the edge of you guys’ bed,

“Hello, my lady love! How are you? You look well, did you just shower?” He can’t hide his excitement which makes you feel rejuvenated with energy.

“I did just get out of the shower. I feel best now than I did all day.” You say letting out the deepest breath you’ve taken all day.

He furrows his brow, frowning, “I’m sorry (Y/N). Was it anything serious? There’s no shame if you have to come home early, you shouldn’t break yourself for this.” He says with paternal concern.

You shake your head, “No it was just a long day dealing with people, but I made it somehow. I don’t want to talk about it right now though. I miss you…”

You hear him groan in angst, “I miss you too, my heart. This place is colder without you, even with the record high temperatures.”

The summer has been sweltering, and you’re both kind of pansies about it. You smile weakly, feeling a little emotional but not wanting to show. You all have never been this far apart before and nothing about the trip has made this an easier transition.

“You look adorable in your bonnet, baby. Is that a new one?” He inquires.

You chuckle Cardi B-like, tugging it down a little further, “Yes, I don’t use my home bonnets in public areas so this is my travel bonnet. Just a cheap little thing.”

“Hmm, well you make it look very chic, my God! The birds out here are shaking.” You both giggle at his silliness. M’Baku never fails to make you feel like you won the lottery.

You guys pause for a moment just looking at each other through the screen. “I got the dishes done earlier.” He says, raising his eyebrows with a sly expression on his face.

“Is that right? Well they weren’t going to do themselves so…” You say cooly.

“Oh Hanuman! Why are you being cruel to me.”

“I’m not being cruel, just saying you did something that needed to be done. Do you need kudos for that?” You say, picking a piece of lint off your robe.

“That is true. When I was doing them, I thought about how you can never keep your hands to yourself while I can’t defend myself.” He says leaning forward, biting his plump bottom lip. “You come up behind me, grabbing my waist….”

“Yeah, and I’d gyrate on that ass while you’re doing them, yup!” Putting on an extra hood accent. You swear you more gangsta than him.

His whole face smiles at your antics, “You say, ‘They better be spotless or I’ll have to teach you not to cross me, eh?’ And you do a terrible Wakandan voice, I die every time!” M’Baku laughs with his whole body: eyes closed tightly, head shooting back, teeth on full display and mouth wide enough to impress a dentist.

“Whatever, I can take you any day. Have you screaming uncle in a minute, punk.”

M’Baku looks at you, leaning on the desk, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb, eyes glazed like his mind is somewhere else for a second.

“What’s up with you?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Oh nothing, if you haven’t thought of it by now, I might as well call it a night then.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “What the hell are you talking bout?”

He screws his face up while hunching before continuing, “It’s just that I thought you were going to give me a prelude to your thankfulness for me handling your chores...”

“Is that so? My chores? My diet doesn’t require nearly as much dishware to prepare so I don’t get that. But at any rate, I believe that was reserved for when I get back home.”

“Yes, but I need something to hold my motivation.” He says, drawing out his thoughts slowly “It’s very challenging to go through the day without you here, I’ve almost forgotten what you look like-” He squints, dramatically peeking at your on the screen.

“Oh please!” You jeer at him, laughing. “Don’t be dramatic, M’Bop.”

“Ohhh, and you have the nerve to call me that from a distance when I can’t get my hands on you, you are a tyrant.” He says, practically purring.

“I do what I want, and what I want right now... is for you to tell me how bad you want your hands on me.”

M’Baku gives a full belly laugh. “Oh really? You’re challenging me to go first eh?”

“It’s a demand, get it right.” You say with HBIC attitude in tow.

He nods, speechless, as he starts to sit up. “I could show you now,” he looks down at his lap, then quickly back up to you. “But like I said, I have almost forgotten you. Now, your voice is softly kissing my ears, but your body, your body? Is still a blur...” He says covering his eyes with one hand, reaching out for the other.

Shaking your head with a cheesing grin, “Well we can’t have that. Ok, what do you miss about this?”

“Your ear?” He questions as you tug at your lobe.

“Yes, I am showing you my body little by little so you can recall what you like about each piece.”

He shake his head smirking at your silliness. “Ok, my darling. Ah yes, my love’s ear. With it, she listens so intently to my stories regarding my day, my transgressions, and my achievements. Whilst holding you close, I whisper into it, intoxicated by the scent of your curls. Whenever I am close to it, I am closest to you”

You nod approvingly, “Mk, sir. Pretty good. What about...this.” Reaching your hand in front of your face, giving it the you-can’t-see-me shake.

Leaning back and rubbing his beard he says, “I have never know such strength from such small things. When my hand envelopes yours, I feel safer and more at ease despite the comparison of them. The purest feeling of being blessed overwhelms me when I hold it to my lips. And when you take the time to graze it along my face, my body, I am powerless and embraced with surrender.”

You look away from the screen a second as heat begins to catch your cheeks.

“Was that getting to be too much for you, darling?” He says grinning like the devil incarnate. “Oh hush, you know what the hell you tryna do!” Fanning yourself, you graze your fingers down your neck. “What about this?”

“Mmm, I think that’s your favorite actually, my love. The tenderness of your neck possesses me to drown my face into it like a lap dog.” He chuckles at the thought. “And your squeals of playful bliss in reaction is a treat to behold, and I wish to witness, over and over again. I’ve also left a many marks there, so it’s practically got my name on it.”

“Boy...stop!” You spout in fake protest because you knew it was true, tucking your mouth in frustrated embarrassment.

His sights are set straight on you as he rest his hands on his thighs, “I also miss those lips, the ones you are biting on now. Not only do they speak motivating orations to build me up, they know just where my weakest points are; using their power for my pleasure, bending me to my defeat.”

You feel your heartbeat starting to build, suddenly you are quite thirsty. You twist a little as an ache begins to build, “M’Baku…”

“Just like that, my love. Those same lips speak my name, in a way that makes my relatives back home sound ignorant in their pronunciation. It sounds most sincere coming from you.”

You cover your eyes as you feel sweet angst from the man you love. What you wouldn’t do to teleport to him and bring him in between you.

“Now what am I supposed to do with all that? Hm?” You angle your phone down as slowly untie the sash.

M’Baku laughs, lays one of his sizable hands on the crotch of his shorts, “Yes, I think that’s the most prose I ever got out before you’d pounce me to either shut me up or relieve your lust.”

You start at the top of your robe, revealing one of your breasts.

He lets out a low pitched, guttural moan, clutching at himself, “Is it cold, my love? Or just joyful of my presence?” M’Baku says.

“Mm, a little of both I think,” you say huskily as you squeeze your arms together, making a more dramatic cleavage, feeling around your rising peaks.

“I miss the way you react to me, when I'm caressing them. The shake of your body when I am speaking in tongues in reverence of their ethereal beauty.”

Closing your eyes, you imagine just that. His encompassing mouth smiling as he hovers over you, keeping his gaze locked on you as he lowers his tongue across your areola, before he siphons your soul out of your chest. You hear him groan for a moment and look down to see him having made himself more comfortable, shorts around his ankles. His thighs a perfect spread creating an almost exaggerated thickness of his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, beginning to stroke in front of you.

“You are so beautiful, beyond any measure in this world,” He say breathlessly, gripping the top of his hair in distraction to keep from busting too fast.

“ohh, I miss your hands being on me. Trailing my back when you think I’m asleep to arouse me. The grip you put on my hips when you’re filling me from the back.” You reach down and pet yourself at the thought, angling your device towards your center. “You see how you’ve got me right now, baby?”

M’Baku leans forward, rubbing his beard with hunger as he licks his lips instinctively. “This is better than the Food Network. You’re getting this riled up over me?”

You laugh a little at his remark, “All for you. Shine that dick up for me, baby. I need you to match this moisture.”

He reaches for y’alls personal lube and works it in. He makes the task look effortless, when you get a good cardio workout whenever you work his tool. His 6’5 frame is an obvious tell of what he works with, and it is a marathon, not a sprint to wear him out. The slicking sound of he made as polished his pipe just about sends you over the edge. “Ah, (Y/N), you’re holding back on me. I want to be inside you. Go within yourself so I can feel your walls surrounding me.”

You slide a couple digits inside of you, biting down your gasp as you look down at your man hypnotized by your body.

“I can practically taste your excitement, darling. My lips enveloping your clit as you buck in sweet agony.”

There is a thud in the background.

You sit a little straighter, “What was that?”

M’Baku shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that, probably a car door closing next door. I want you to come for me, quickly.”

You look down at the screen. M’Baku’s face is perspiring a little; you see the sweat on his neck and chest and you imagine your hands gripping his shoulders as his length pummels you.

“Ohhh, I wish you were inside of me now,” You gasp as you angle the phone to show your fingers penetrating your vulva.

“(Y/N), Hanuman’s sake, look at that full, pretty pussy. You’re making this too difficult for me, I can’t--”

Soon, you hear the door being banged on, the sound of barks causes you to drop the phone.

“M’BAKU!! What was that??!!” you yell, covering yourself before picking it back up.

“Uhh, uhh…” M’Baku, has his shorts back on, covering his front, talking at the door in yoruba. “I said give me 30 minutes at least!”

“What was that, M’Baku?? Do you have someone there?!”

He comes up on the camera, “(Y/N), I would not have a reason to lie to you. But I did omit something before I got --”

The door bursts open, four of his tribesmen come in, chanting some drunken song in yoruba.

“Oh my God, M’Baku! I told you not to have them up in there! You can’t follow my rules for one day?!”

M’Baku is speaking to them, pushing them back out of the room. One of them points down at him, saying something that makes the others laugh and wave at you through the screen. M’Baku, covers himself again, yelling at them and pointing out the door as they scatter.

Closing the door, M’Baku comes up to the screen, “(Y/N)...” He draws it out like a purr, trying to coax you into forgiveness.

“No! Don’t say my name like that, what the fuck was that about!”

He bends his head, sighing. “They came unannounced. I didn’t have a chance to turn them down since they were banging at the front door, barging in.”

“And you didn’t tell them no? I thought you were their alpha or whatever, they don’t listen to you?”

“Theeyyy dooo…” He says screwing up his face, “But I figured, they’d be gone before you called, and I lost track of time…”

“Why would you keep this from me? I may have been ok if you had just texted me with the heads up! I got my tits and ass all out, talking dirty, what if they heard??”

“Enough! They were wrapped up in their show downstairs, they didn’t even know I was talking to you. And as far as them coming over, you’d never go for it, I know you. When they are here, you bang pots and slam doors, catching the cleaning-bug as soon as they are there until they leave. You can’t stand them!”

“Because they eat us out of house and home, keep using up the toilet paper and when they leave, it’s like a damn hurricane hit the living room!”

He gives you a look of contempt, “Are you done? Really, because you are upsetting yourself more after the day you had with this non-problem.”

“Don’t fucking dismiss me, M’Baku. I just don’t wanna come home to a pigsty when I get back.”

“It’s not like it isn’t one when you’re here,” he says under his breath.

“Nigga WHAT?”

“Hanuman sake, please, can we calm down and get back to something more pleas--”

“Ask them for a show then!”

You hang up on him. No way in hell you bustin’ open after all that foolishness. M’Baku brought his entire crew to your spot on day one! Why wouldn’t he even tell you though, doing some cam sex while they are downstairs, is he crazy?

You lay under the covers pouting. Any fun you hoped to have on this trip is looking less likely by the minute. Now even your man is bringing problems on you.

M’Baku paces the floor a couple seconds after the call ended. He wonders if you have gone mad all of a sudden. To go from the throes of passion to biting his head off is a feat only you could master. There was no way he would be groveling for forgiveness right now. This was his house too, he had every right to have company over, no matter who it was. The Jabari are his lifelong mates, what sense does it make to have to ask permission for family or friends to come by.

He makes his way downstairs, to see only two of his friends left and they were heading out of the door.

“Akoje! What’s going on, why are you leaving?”

They look at each other a moment in the doorway, then back at him, “Come on, M’Baku, you need privacy, you should’ve just told us. Plus, we don’t need to be on your lady’s hitlist. Thought not being here would make it a chill night but she finds a way.” The other Jabari laughs at this.

M’Baku peers down at them, “Ok, keep the comments light, eh? But I finished with her, I didn’t say leave.”

The other Jabari starts now, “No, you did not finish….” causing him to be elbowed in the ribs by Akoje as he giggles.

“Alright, Enache, mind your business. That seemed to be the only problem today was no one minding their own business! I asked for half an hour!”

“Ya, to take a shower! But that was Enache’s fault, he wanted to play Uno, and couldn’t find the cards so he decided to sniff you out.”

Enache huffs in disagreement, “It was Ogoro! That’s why he left out so quick. He didn’t hear your water running so he just said, let’s ambush, he isn’t doing anything! I respect your relationship, M’Bop.” He says with puppy dog eyes.

M’Baku’s eyes practically jump out of his head at their knowledge of his pet name. “HOW DO YOU KNOW--” he kisses his teeth throwing his palm out in their direction. “ Oh whatever! And don’t go lying under my roof.”

Akoje is shocked, clutching his pearls, “Honest to Hanuman! It’s wonderful! We hadn’t seen you fall this hard under someone since the Panther!”

“All right! GET OUT!” M’Baku goads them out with his booming voice as they scatter laughing and barking out to their cars.

M’Baku leans on the door as he takes a deep breath. Suddenly he is exhausted, so it was probably for the best that the guys left. He walks over to sit on his couch. Chip bags open and remnants scattered on the table. Half drunken and empty beer bottles line the edge and carpet by the furniture’s legs. M’Baku leans forward rubs his face in frustration before getting up and going to the guest bathroom. He opens the door before quiky shutting it, clutching his nose. Whatever happened in there is hopefully flushed and just needing to air out, but a disaster definitely erupted.

M’Baku decides that the mess will have to wait until tomorrow, it was already approaching midnight and his job starts in the morning at 6 am. Heading up the stairs he makes his way to the bedroom to take a quick shower. After toweling off, he heads for the bed, covers feeling cool against every inch of his skin. His body begins to wind down from all of the sexual frustration and Jabari disrespect, but is not used to the extra space in his bed. He is still mostly on his side, but feels over to yours, imagining your curves as his own personal skyline. He reaches for his phone to check, but nothing is on it from you, just a couple of memes from the other Jabari clowning him endlessly. He sets it back down, turning toward where you would be. He was already remorseful, especially since you were right, but he didn’t want to bar his guys from visiting, that is just rude. He takes a deep breath, drifting off to hopes of tomorrow being better.

*Part 3*

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

The Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri

#mbaku x reader #m'baku x reader #m'baku #mbaku #black panther #marvel #fanfic #black panther fanfic #marvel fanfic #mbaku x you #m'baku x you #mbaku fanfic #m'baku fanfic #writing

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lewispandawrites · 6 years

Text

An artist and her muse , Claia, 2338 words

Clary’s life had already been stressful. She didn’t need her mother to loom over her head, and remind her every day that when she had been in her second year or art college, she had already had an art exhibition. Or that those exhibitions were crucial, when it came to selling work (Clary didn’t quite believe that one - she was a true millennial, and knew that the Internet could make everybody famous - but it was still painful to hear.). She didn’t need her concerned looks, her pity, or her harsh words to just ‘stop feeling sorry for herself’ and ‘produce some quality work’.

Ever since she could remember she had lived in Jocelyn’s shadow. She didn’t remember the time before drawing classes - years, when she could paint a swan just for fun. No, it had needed to be anatomically correct. And have shading. And pink crowns on birds had been allowed only when Jocelyn had had a good day, and had played it down as ‘being creative’.

And everywhere she went she was ‘Jocelyn’s daughter’. She had never been ‘Clary’, or even ‘Miss Fairchild’. No. Wherever she went, people already had expectations of her, and compared her to her mother. ‘You have a good eye for details, just like her.’ ‘You always have a smude on the right side of your works. Your mother used to do the same thing - ask her and she will help you with it.’ Even her eyes were never just green. They were Jocelyn’s green.

She was sick of it.

She pulled the cafe door open, with more force than necessary. No one turned around, though, to look at yet another caffeine-addicted, hoodie-wearing college student, that had decided that Starbucks had been too mainstream for them, and had chosen instead to procrastinate in a hole-in-the-world cafe. But even those hipster places had caramel lattes, for which Clary was grateful. At least she could drown her sorrows in sweet madness before her next class. She was in college. She should have fun. Everyone kept telling her that she was now living the best years of her life, yet the constant pressure had her doubt it.

The chair made too much noise as she pulled it out, but she was too tired to give a damn. Clary dumped her bag onto the next seat, then finally sat down herself. Her phone buzzed with a new notification, as she was taking out her notes for the next class. Who would have thought that art college would consist of so many pop quizzes?

She silently hoped that someone had sent another dinosaur video to the group chat, but it wasn’t her lucky day. The message came from Jocelyn. Her mother had sent her yet another article on ‘How to deal with artist’s block’. She probably thought she was being so helpful.

Clary just shoved her phone into her bag, not caring what might happen to it. All she wanted was to have one moment to herself, without a constant worry that she wasn’t good enough.

A decision was made quickly - she wouldn’t think about art at all, for the next 40 minutes. Clary would just relax, and enjoy her coffee. She just abandoned her notebook, and leaned back in her chair. The angle was slightly awkward, but she was too stubborn to admit it.

No phone to look at and no notes to read, meant she had to fill her time somehow. There was oddly no music in the place, so the only thing she could do was people-watch. The place was packed, and no one was paying any attention to her. A perfect opportunity to stare at people, and wonder what was their life like.

Her gaze fell first on the young women sitting in the opposite corner. Two huge windows met behind her, creating an illusion of glass walls, so her figure was surrounded by natural light. She had dark skin, dark curly hair...Clary was almost positive that she had glasses, but the rims were either very thin, or made out of see-through plastic, so it was hard to tell for sure. She was wearing a striped black and white shirt, and light blue overalls, and was hunched over a huge book.

She was taking all the available space, with her book, laptop, notebook and coffee. Every now and then she would mouth something - Clary had no idea what, she couldn’t read lips - then reach for a block of yellow sticky notes, and write something down. The note would then end up either in her notebook, or in the book.

Clary forgot to look at the other people in the cafe, and instead focused on the girl. She would constantly brush her curls from her face, tucking the strands behind her ears, but they always got free. After it had happened for the uptenth time, she rolled her eyes - actually rolled her eyes, with noone there to see it! - and took two hairbands off her wrist. She then split her hair into two sections, and began to braid them. Clary had to remind herself she was in the public space, to keep herself from actually cooing. Doing that while staring at a strange, was surely going to draw attention to her.

Soon, she began to wonder. What was that girl like? What were her dreams? Why did she decide to sit in that cafe, at 1 pm on Thursday? Who showed her that place? What was she studying? Maybe she was a goddess that descended to Earth, wanting to live a mortal life? Blend in with the humans, experience joy and sorrow with them? Maybe her residence was in another dimension. Maybe she had sat at her huge window, every night, and gazed longingly at the little creatures that walked the Earth. She would wish to lead a life like they had. And one night, she would put on her coat, and escape her home, leaving her old life behind.

Clary didn’t even realise when she reached for her pen, and began to sketch.

“Come on, Roberts! It will be fun!” Simon said, as he dragged his best friend towards the art gallery.

“It’s already fun. You look ridiculous in that shirt.” He glanced down at the aforementioned piece of clothing, and frowned. Sure, the blue and green dots on gray shirt were unusual, blue he himself would describe the outfit as ‘quirky’. “You know you love it.”

“I do.” Maia admitted, then smiled widely. “I can’t believe I actually agreed to do this. How did you even get us the tickets?” Two college students, attending the opening night of some famous painter. Not exactly a regular Friday evening.

“I told you already - I booked them online. Apparently, she is a student, just like us, and it’s her first exhibition. But the tickets sold out fast, so it has to be good. I have planned on googling more about her and the event, but it just never happened.” Simon admitted, with a sheepish expression. “But I still think we can blend in with the crowd. Like, we are fancy enough.”

They gave their names at the entrance, then walked inside. Simon was still happily chatting next to Maia, but suddenly, he stopped.

“Si?” Maia, asked concerned, and followed his gaze.

It was her. The woman on the painting. Even with a golden crown decorating woman’s head, Maia could still tell with 100% certainty, that she was looking at her own face, displayed on huge canvas. Her dark curls were blending with the background, and stars seemed to adore her forehead, and clavicle. It was surreal.

She looked at another painting. This time the figure was turned away from the audience, sitting on a huge, stone windowsill. It looked like a part of the palace. But even at that angle, with only half of woman’s face visible, it was still unmistakably, her. She looked like a princess. Like a true goddess. Staring at something with longing.

Maia only realised that she was standing still, when someone bumped into her.

“My apologies…” the man started, but stopped once he looked at her face. “Ah! Miss Fairchild didn’t tell us her muse would be here.” Before Maia could process everything, and answer, the man tangled his arm with hers, and began to lead her somewhere. “We were all thrilled to hear that the daughter of the famous Jocelyn was looking for a place to display her paintings. I want to admit, that I, personally, was slightly worried. You know, she had a famous last name, but we haven’t heard about her work before. ” He leaned close, as if he was letting Maia in on a huge secret. “But she has outdone her mother. The way she captured the yearning of a goddess? A woman that had it all, but wanted to fall for mortals? I don’t even have words to describe it.” He placed his free hand on her arm, to squeeze it. “But I’m sure you already know it all. Aghhh, the greatest love story ever told. And artist falls for her muse.” The man sighed dreamily.

“...love?” It was the only word that Maia managed to utter. Every moment was more confusing than the last. She actually expected to wake up in her bed any second now.

Her companion winked. “It’s obvious. Everyone in this room can tell the story of how young miss Clary Fairchild fell in love with another woman, while painting her portraits. It’s so obvious when you look at those paintings. And I can’t blame her - you are gorgeous. Those paintings really do you justice.” Maia felt the strong urge to free her arm, but man’s enthusiastic grasp was too strong. “An artist-muse relationship is always so intense. And Clary is such a romantic at heart. She should have added a painting of you two at the end. Some might say it would be ‘too much’, but no such thing. I honestly hope she will consider that for her next exhibition.” He stopped for a moment to look at something. “Ahhh, there she is!” He finally let go of Maia, and walked up to a short woman with ginger hair. She greeted him with kisses to his cheeks, then he made her twirl in her black dress. Maia couldn’t help but admire how the tiny gold dots on her tulle skirt shone like stars - focusing on that detail was easier than trying to understand what was happening.

“Look who I found!” The man exclaimed, then gestured towards Maia.

Ginger’s face fell.

“Ohhh, I see.” Their companion said. “Lovers’ quarrel. I will leave you two alone. Just don’t take too long - everybody wants to talk to you.”

Neither of the girls realised when he disappeared.

“Well, this is awkward.” Maia said, while straightening her own skirt. Those words seemed to finally wake up her companion.

“I’m so, soooo sorry. I wanted to reach out to you, but you never came back to the cafe.”

“What cafe?” Maia was even more confused. “Do I know you?”

The redhead blushed furiously, then walked up to stand in front of Maia. “No. I’m Clary.” She raised her hand and waved, then lowered it back, embarrassed. “I saw you once in a cafe - Berko’s - and...” She gestured around, which almost made Maia smile. “I swear, I wanted to change the paintings. To do something less creepy. But I kept coming back to those works, and to you. You, in my head. Obviously.” She shifted her weight from one leg to another, then started to play with her fingers. “I will pay for all the damage?”

“Wow.” Maia replied. “So you saw me somewhere once, then decided to paint me?” Clary clearly wanted to add something, but decided not to, and just nodded with resignation. “Then you turned me into some intergalactic goddess, and hung the paintings for all of New York City to see?” Clary only averted her eyes. “And, apparently, all those folks are talking about how we fell in love.” Maia finished.

“What? No!” Clary said loudly, which attracted some attention. “I told Roberto not to mistake his crazy theories for gossip. I am so, sooooo sorry.” She covered her face with her hands, petrified.

Maia looked at the other girl. She still felt slightly uncomfortable with her own face on display, but it was clear that the whole situation was even more stressful for Clary. Simon had mentioned that it was her first exhibition - she probably was under a lot of pressure already. And now a woman who was her muse - Maia still found it hard to wrap her head around it - was standing in front of her, in a place where Clary had least expected it.

“Hey.” Maia placed her hand on Clary’s shoulder. “I’m not angry. You have nothing to worry about.” The whole situation was bizarre, but Maia truly wasn’t going to make a scene, or sue the other girl.

“You’re not?” Clary lowered her hands, and Maia could see that her sharp purple eyeliner got smudged slightly.

“Well, this situation is unusual. But I’m not angry. Those paintings are very beautiful. Gimme a moment to process, and I will say I’m honoured to have my face here.”

Clary nodded, a small smile finally gracing her lips. ‘She looks so pretty up close.’, Maia thought to herself.

“Thank you. I’m really so…” Clary had started again, but Maia silenced her.

“Stop apologising!” She said, amused. Come to think of it, the whole thing was actually funny and adorable. Like something out of a movie. “If you are still feeling bad, buy me a coffee.”

“It’s a date!” Clary agreed quickly. It didn’t take long for her eyes to widen in realisation, of what she had just said.

Before she could correct herself, Maia chimed in. “It’s a date.” Maia smiled warmly, and Clary had no other choice, but to smile as well.

Becoming a muse wasn’t so bad, if you could a date with a cute girl out of it.

#claia #claia fic #claia fanfiction #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic

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