#am i anywhere near actually working on the next chapter? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mybutcheredtongue · 2 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY (see full series list here)

1993

On the 22nd of November you sit on the floor of your office late at night, watching the flames of your fireplace crackle and pop. Beside you, sits Harry, eyes focused on the fire as well. Sirius had asked him to wait in front of the fire in your office at one o'clock and for you to be there too. You can't say your heart isn't beating faster than the steady tick of the clock on the wall, worried and giddy at the same time.

"I'm sorry about this whole situation, Harry," you say with a sigh, reaching out to stroke Dubh's fur idly as she clambers into your lap. "I know this isn't what you want. I tried everything to get them to change the rules but nothing worked."

"Thanks," he says blankly, like he's used to being disappointed.

"And that article in the paper — "

"I didn't say anything of that. It's a lie," Harry responds quickly.

You nod. "I'm well aware. Rita Skeeter is...difficult." As soon as the words have left your mouth, you grimace, shaking your head. "Actually, she doesn't deserve that nicety. She's a bitch, Harry. A nasty old hag that has nothing better to do with her life than spread rumours and sensationalise everything in sight."

Harry seems slightly taken aback by your words but nods in fierce agreement nonetheless.

"My best advice to you, Harry, is to run for the hills every time you see her — or just wave me over if I'm near. I am well accustomed to small talk with people like her — the trick is to just get them talking about themselves."

He nods. "I don't plan on going anywhere near her ever again."

"Smart decision," you say, sighing. "And look — I know I'm not supposed to get involved but if you need any help whatsoever, just ask. There's plenty of useful spells I can teach you and tips I can give — anything at all."

Just then, the flames move in a peculiar fashion and Sirius' head appears in the fire. Both you and Harry let out a small gasp, and when you look at Harry, his face has broken into the biggest smile you've seen him wear in weeks.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaims immediately.

He looks different from the last time you seen him. His face had looked gaunt and sunken, but now he looks far healthier and his hair, which was long, matted and greasy, is now clean and neat. You're glad to see that though he's trimmed it a tad, he's kept the beard. He looks younger.

"Hello, Harry," he says, before he turns to you, smiling, "and hello to you too, love."

You bring your hand up and give him a tiny little wave, unable to stop the giddy smile taking over your face at the sight of him.

"How're you doing?" Harry asks.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asks firmly, returning his attention to his godson.

"I'm — " Harry stops himself suddenly, holding himself back. Just when you're about to check if he's alright, he spills. He tells the two of you everything: about how no one believes that he hasn't entered himself into the tournament, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he can't walk down a corridor without getting sneered at, and about the toll it's all taken on his friendship with Ron.

You feel your heart ache for him. He deserves absolutely none of this and you wish you could do more to help.

"Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons — I'm a goner," he finishes desperately.

Sirius is looking at Harry with deep concern as he says, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here...I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"Just break into Moony's house next time," you say simply, shrugging. "Sounds much easier to me."

Sirius gives you a look that suggests he already thought of that, but obviously decided not to as he was already coming north to see you two. You smile cheekily at him and he shakes his head, refocusing his attention on Harry.

"What do you need to warn me about?" Harry asks.

"Karkaroff," Sirius says. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"He's a Death Eater?" You're shocked. Just this morning you picked his fork off the ground for him at breakfast!

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

There already is an Auror at Hogwarts, you think. Or did Dumbly-dorr just forget about me?

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry says slowly. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius replies bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then named names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place...he's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

How do you not remember any of this? Surely you'd have seen this all mentioned in the papers around that time?

"Okay..." Harry says. "But...are you saying that Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," says Sirius, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry — "

"You and the rest of the world," he says bitterly.

"— and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius says hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he still can't spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So...what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But — why?"

Sirius hesitates.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he says apprehensively. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone cast the Dark Mark...and then — did you hear about that Ministry witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" You say. You recall reading that article about her disappearance not too long ago.

"Exactly...she disappeared to Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but...it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" says Harry.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sirius says grimly, glancing at you. "Do you remember her at school?"

You nod your head. "She was at Hogwarts when we were, a few years above us," you explain to Harry. "As thick as a board, she was. Very nosey, too. Awful combination."

"Makes her easy to lure into a trap," Sirius finishes.

"So...so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" says Harry. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don’t know," Sirius says with a shake of his head, "I just don’t know...Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing." Harry grins bleakly. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"You'll be fine," you reassure firmly, though you're not sure if it's for Harry's sake or your own. "I'll be there, all the rest of the teachers will be there, and there'll be that group of dragon keepers there too."

"Look, about these dragons," Sirius says, speaking quickly now, glancing around him furtively, "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try and simple Stunning Spell — dragons are too strong and powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon — "

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," Harry says.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius tells him, looking him straight in the eye. "There is a way, a simple spell's all you need — "

Knock-knock.

At once, all three of you go dead silent and whip your heads to the closed door.

"Go, Sirius, quickly!" You hiss at him urgently.

You scramble to your feet, grabbing Harry's invisibilty cloak off the desk and launching it at him.

"Quick!"

Harry frantically pulls the cloak over his head and ducks behind your desk as you make you way over to the door, glancing back at the fireplace to see that Sirius' head has disappeared and the flames have returned to normal. You feel a small pang in your heart.

Who could possibly be knocking at your door at one o'clock in the morning? Surely everyone is asleep by now?

You pull the door open and are met with nothing but the quiet, dark corridor.

"Must've been Peeves," you mutter angrily, moving to close the door. Of course that poltergeist would find a way to cut your time with Sirius short.

"Oh, no, mistress, it is Bitsy!"

You look down in search of the voice and sure enough, at the foot of your door, is Bitsy, grinning up widely at you with her ginormous eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles on the wall. You notice that she's holding a tray of scones in her tiny hands.

"Bitsy?" You say in shock and confusion. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Bitsy was cleaning this corridor, mistress, and heard talking coming from mistress's office! And Bitsy thinks 'why is mistress up so late talking?' Perhaps she has a guest and is very hungry! Mistress was not at breakfast this morning, and I isn't seeing mistress in the kitchens either!"

While part of you feels angry and cheated that she's just interrupted your seldom chance to talk to your husband, you can't be mad at Bitsy and her big kind heart.

You chuckle softly. "Oh, Bitsy. You are far too kind to me. You're right, I didn't attend breakfast this morning nor did I go to the kitchens in the afternoon — I had breakfast with a friend of mine in Hogsmeade today. I should have told you."

Bitsy beams at you and holds the tray out for you to take. "Bitsy is glad to know you did not go hungry this morning. For you, mistress!"

You accept the tray with a smile. "Thank you, Bitsy. You are very kind — let me go fetch something to give you as a thank you."

"Oh, no, mistress! I cannot accept anything from you, I is just doing my duty!"

You leave her momentarily, placing the tray of scones down, grabbing a box off your desk and returning to hand it to her. "Film, for your camera, Bitsy. So you can take more pictures. "

You don't miss the gleeful smile that spreads over Bitsy's face as she looks at the box in wonder. "Mistress, I must not — "

"I insist, Bitsy. Actually — I order you to accept the film. I know how much you love your camera," you tell her, pushing it into her hands.

"Thank you, mistress," she says gratefully, bowing to you. "I must return to my work now, unless mistress requires Bitsy for anything?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, but thank you, Bitsy. I think it's time for mistress to get some rest."

Bitsy leaves, clutching the film tightly in her hands and bowing out of your view before Disapparating. You close the door behind you, letting out a sigh as Harry stands up slowly, pulling the cloak off.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry," you say. "I really wish we could have more time with Sirius."

"Yeah, me too. Was that a house elf?"

You nod, chuckling. "Sure was. That's Bitsy. You see, I stay up much later than everyone else — I'm usually up in the tower because of course, the best time to view the stars is at night, so I sleep in the next day and miss breakfast a lot of the time. And when I do, I can go down to the kitchens and Bitsy and all the other house elves will give me something to eat — have done since I was in school myself when I did the exact same thing. Bitsy is my saviour, honestly. She's an absolute gem."

"You're able to get into the Hogwarts kitchens?" Harry says curiously.

"Yep. There's a painting of a bowl of fruit down by the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room — just tickle the pear and the door'll open right up for you."

You know that as a teacher you probably shouldn't be telling him this, but you don't really care. You went there countless times as a student so why shouldn't he?

Harry nods thoughtfully before asking, "That spell Sirius mentioned, that could defeat a dragon...have you any idea what it is?"

You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against your hip as you search your brain for anything like that. "I don't, Harry, I'm sorry. Perhaps you could try confundus, and confuse it? I can't say I'm too familiar with dragons...now, you should go to bed, Harry. A good night's sleep for the next few days is what you need before the first task. And in the meantime, I'll have a look and see if I can figure something out for you."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'll find it easy to sleep," Harry remarks, throwing the cloak back over his head.

"Well, if you do find that you can't sleep, come up the Tower," you tell him with a smile, pulling the door open for his invisible figure. "I find stargazing is the best way to relieve stress and solve problems."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You feel like you're about to get sick. You stare at the Hungarian Horntail, huge and terrifying as she crouches protectively over her eggs, huffing great hot breaths out of her large nostrils. And there, standing across from this fearsome beast as though rooted to the spot, is Harry. The crowd roars around you but you can barely hear them as your stomach knots and twists and flips with sickening worry.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yells, raising his wand.

You wait. The crowd waits. Harry waits.

And then you see it. Harry's broomstick, his Firebolt, hurtles towards him and stops in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount it. You vaguely register Ludo Bagman roaring something over the crowd in response to this, but you're too focused on praying to whatever great deities you can to protect your godson. You're just so relieved that he managed to figure something out — and something so clever, too! Why hadn't you thought of a Summoning Spell? It's so simple. Sirius will be so proud of Harry when he finds out.

Harry rises into the air, the wind rushing through his hair, surveying the dragon not far below him. A sort of resolve seems to come over him and then he dives, forcing you to bring your hands up to cover your eyes in fear.

"Oh, I can't watch," you breathe. Beside you, Minerva gives you an understanding look as she watches on. You hear the rush of fire, the crowd cheering and screaming, and then —

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman roars. "Are you watching this, Mr Krum?"

You open your eyes just in time to see Harry plummet to the ground once more, just missing the burst of flames that flies from the Horntail's open maw — but not quick enough to completely avoid the whip of her tail and to your horror, one of the long spikes grazes Harry's shoulder, ripping his robes.

"Harry!" You shriek, practically about to chew your finger off with the alarming rate you're biting the tips of your nails as you reluctantly watch on, wishing for it to be over.

He begins to fly this way, then that, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire at him to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient enough threat to make her keep her eyes focused on him, tracking his every move.

The dragon's head sways with his movements, her eyes unwavering as she followed him, gruesome fangs bared. You can feel your heart palpitating in your chest. Harry rises even higher, the Horntail's head rising with him, her neck now stretched out to its fullest extent.

You jump as the Horntail lets out a deafening roar, her tail thrashing threateningly as she blows another burst of fire at him, which he thankfully dodges.

She opens her mouth and then she finally rears, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last and Harry seizes the opportunity to dive at an incredible speed. You can barely keep your eyes on him with the rate he's whistling through the air, hurtling towards the nest of eggs.

"Come on, come on, come on..." you chant, hands tapping frantically at the tops of your thighs as you sit on the edge of your seat, watching impatiently.

Harry takes his hands off his broom, seizes the golden egg, and with another huge burst of speed, he's off and soaring out over the stands. He tucks the egg safely under his uninjured arm, and looks out over the stands.

You can't help but jump out your seat, cheering yourself hoarse as you voice your praise and feel relief wash over your body like a tsunami. The noise around you is monumental, drumming in your ears like a jackhammer.

"Look at that!" Bagman yells. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter!"

The dragon keepers rush forward to subdue the Horntail and you hurry out of your seat, practically sprinting to the entrance of the enclosure. Minerva is hot on your heels and Moody and Hagrid have already beaten you, waiting with wide smiles for Harry to land.

"That was excellent, Potter!" Minerva cries as the boy hops off his broomstick. She points a shaky hand to his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Harry, you were brilliant!" You exclaim excitedly, eagerly pulling him in for a hug and beaming at him. Normally, you'd worry about other students thinking you have a favourite — which you do, of course you do — but today you couldn't care less, you're so overwhelmed with relief and swelling with pride for your godson. "Absolutely brilliant, Harry! Just — fantastic, honestly, I can't believe it, I was so worried — I'm so proud — "

"Thanks," Harry says, unable to keep the large smile on his face down, his face red.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry says loudly, so that Hagrid doesn't blather on about how he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand. You give a light chuckle.

"Yeh' did it, Harry!" says Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' — "

Even Moody looks very pleased, the slightest of smiles tugging at his cracked lips. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter."

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." Minerva says, gesturing to the tent with her hand.

He leaves, giving you all a grin before heading into the tent and you just smile proudly after him, rolling on the balls of your feet.

"Oh, he was just excellent, wasn't he?" Minerva says to you, smiling. "The best out of the all the champions, by far!"

You nod enthusiastically. "Easily! Oh, Merlin, I am just so glad he came out alright, I thought I was going to chew my own hand off with worry..."

"He was migh'y," Hagrid says loudly, a sob racking his body as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a large handkerchief, bigger than your face, and blows into it. "Jus' migh'y."

"Oh, Hagrid," you say softly, reaching up to place a comforting hand on his back, smiling sympathetically.

Across the enclosure, the five judges are sitting at the end in raised seats draped in gold. The first judge, Madame Maxime, raises her wand in the air and what looks like a long silver ribbon shoots out of the end of it — forming the shape of a large figure eight.

"Not bad," you remark, clapping along with the crowd. "Must've been the injury that lost him marks..."

Crouch comes next, shooting a number nine into the air.

"Excellent!" Minerva exclaims.

Next, Dumbledore puts up a nine and the crowd yells louder than ever.

Ludo Bagman — ten.

You turn to Minerva in disbelief, matching looks of shock with each other before you eagerly applaud.

Now, Karkaroff raises his wand. He pauses for a moment, and then a number shoots out of his wand — four.

"What?"You yell indignantly, blinking several times to make sure your eyes aren't tricking you. "A four?"

"How shameful, he gave his own student a ten!" Minerva remarks angrily.

Several members of the crowd seem to agree with you, bellowing angrily and booing at Karkaroff's biased marking.

Suddenly, Sirius' words ring in your head.

He's a Death Eater.

You feel your spine chill as you look across the enclosure at Karkaroff's steely expression, steadfast in his decision to reward Harry four marks.

Scumbag.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"A toast!" Dumbledore announces, raising his glass. "To the completion of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

You grin, raising your glass in tandem. "Cheers!" You clink it against Minerva's, then with Professor Sprout's on your other side.

All the staff have gathered in that small room right of the Great Hall for a little staff-only party, the fire blazing in its place and radiating a pleasant warmth around the room. The house elves have prepared a small spread of finger foods for the lot of you — and you've gone straight for the cupcakes, decorated humorously with little edible dragons. They're delicious — you make a mental note to voice your thanks to Bitsy the next time you see her.

Despite the happiness that's settled in you since Harry's successful task, when your eyes land on Karkaroff, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you, talking with Snape, unease gnaws at your gut.

You're sitting in a room with a Death Eater.

You've been in this situation countless times, of course, back when you were an Auror. But then, you knew what was going on. You knew what you were in for. Here, you don't. At parent-teacher meetings, you don't doubt you've been in the company of some Death Eaters, or former Death Eaters, rather. Some of your Slytherins' parents certainly seem to have a fondness for opaque, long-sleeved shirts...

You can't help but remember that night at the Quidditch World Cup, and your brain starts to picture one of those cruel Death Eaters pulling off his mask and revealing Karkaroff's sharp face.

You grip your champagne glass tightly, downing the contents and taking a deep breath. You should go mingle, the time for investigating Karkaroff can come tomorrow.

It's this little staff party that you finally get acquainted with Madame Maxime properly, trying your hand at your conversational-level French. She seems very impressed at this, delighted that you know at least a little bit of her own language — she says something about the 'arrogance of native English speakers', which you don't disagree with.

"Oh, and look at zis pretty diamond on your finger!" Madame Maxime exclaims suddenly, catching sight of your engagement ring, sitting pretty above your wedding band on your left ring finger. She takes your hand in her much larger one so she can inspect it closer. "You are married?"

You look at the sparkling ring, glinting in the candlelight, smiling softly. "Yes, I am."

"'Ow sweet," she remarks, dropping your hand gently. "I was married once."

You raise your eyebrows imploringly and she leans closer, waving her large hand theatrically as she says, "But 'e was a bastard."

She laughs fiendishly, and you just sort of watch, unsure whether you should laugh or not.

"You can laugh!" she assures when she sees your unsure expression. "Good riddance, is what I say. 'E thought 'e could keep ze company of some girl while I was at working at Beauxbatons — so I said to 'im, 'fuck you and ze 'ore you rode in on!'"

You nearly choke on your champagne, shocked at what you've heard come out of Madame Maxime's mouth. She grins proudly, showing rows of pearly white teeth. She seems to be finding your shock very amusing as she laughs again.

"His loss," you tell her, chuckling.

"Absolument." She shrugs nonchalantly, as though it was nothing to her but a stone in the bottom of her shoe. "Et toi? 'Ere is your 'usband?"

You don't answer her for a moment, sucking on your teeth. "Well, I don't know, actually."

"'Ow do you not know?"

"Because he's just escaped from prison," you answer simply. You don't know what makes you tell her that. It would have been so easy to lie, but you don't. Perhaps it's the two too many glasses of champagne you've had, or perhaps it's the way Madame Maxime doesn't seem to care about anything, really, other than Fleur Delacour and the tournament.

Her mouth drops for a second, before she laughs. "Ah, well, c'est la vie. Marriage is never easy."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. It feels weirdly relieving to you that she couldn't care less about your personal life. You find a new respect for the woman in front of you. "Certainly not."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

Hugs and bisous for my incredible taglist loves:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #harry potter #the marauders #angst with a happy ending #angst #hp #fanfiction #fanfic #the marauders era #marauders #marauders era #themarauders #hp fanfic #hp fandom #wizarding world

53 notes · View notes

howlinchickhowl · 10 months

Text

It's coffeeshop day! I couldn't possibly miss coffeeshop day. I want you to know I am absolutely working on the next full chapter of Ristretto, but for today's a.u.gust prompt I thought it would be fun to do a little switcheroo, so here is a little Ristretto Mickey POV for while you wait. @gallavichthings as always, thank you :)

edited to add a link for Ristretto, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, this is my coffeeshop au I am already writing! So if you like this little sojourn, you can go read that as well.

Thank you for the extra foam eleven - coffeeshop

Fucking Iggy. Mickey thinks to himself as he barrels down the street, uncaring about the slow moving pedestrians he bumps on the way. Stupid fucking idiot.

They talked about this shit. Last week they talked about this shit. Him and Ig and Mandy they’d sat down at the shitty kitchen table they’d rescued from a dumpster and talked about how things were gonna be. They’d laid it all out, they’d all agreed, they were done with it, the life they’d been raised to lead, drugs and guns and fights and prison and parole and dying shitty violent deaths at the hand of shitty violent assholes who claimed they were your friends.

They were done with it. All three of them. Colin too when he gets out of jail if he wants. They were supposed to be going straight. So why the fuck was he now spending his afternoon scrambling around everywhere he can think of to put together fucking bail money? Because Iggy was a stupid fucking idiot. That much has always been true and Mickey was just as much of an idiot to think that that might have changed.

He’s been to Sandy’s and hit up his buddy Greg at the home, but he’s still a hundred and fifty bucks short and Mandy’s not answering her phone, so now he’s about to do something he and Iggy both had been expressly forbidden to do and visit her at work.

He’s so worked up he pushes the door so hard that it almost bounces off its hinges, and he locks eyes with Mandy almost immediately. Her face is like thunder and she storms over to him like she’s about to pitch a fit. Well she’s not the only fucking one.

“What?” She demands when she reaches him, not quite a whisper but definitely not the volume that he knows she’d be using if they weren’t at her job right now. She looks back over her shoulder at her co-worker, a tall red-head who is clearly watching them and clearly trying not to look like he’s watching them. Mandy grabs him and shoves him out of the way of the door, a little further from the counter, and he gets that she’s not happy to see him but none of this is his fucking fault and he doesn’t appreciate being manhandled.

“You’re not supposed to come here.” She says through gritted teeth, like he doesn’t already know she doesn’t want their family anywhere near her first real on the level employment.

“Yeah no shit Mandy, I look like I wanna be here? Answer your fuckin’ phone in future.”

“I’m not supposed to have my phone out here shitbrain, what the fuck is so important?”

They’ve gotten a bit louder, the heat of their words burning away at their control, but shooting a look back towards the counter he makes a conscious effort to lower his voice again. He’s got to be here but he doesn’t have to let everyone know they got jailbirds in the family.

“Iggy got himself a fuckin’ assault charge and I ain’t got enough for bail.”

“What the fuck Mick?!” Mandy casts furtive glances all around her and leans in closer to him, “Who’d he assault?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, just some bar fight or somethin’, it’s not serious, but because of his record and his last name they’re holdin’ him.”

“Fucking assholes. How much you need?”

It’s a lot, and he hates that he couldn’t put it together. A year ago, he could’ve, easy. That’s barely a morning’s worth of hand-jobs at the rub and tug and even without the actual jobs he could’ve just asked Sasha for a quick loan. Now they’ve gone straight it’s a lot harder to find any serious amount of ready money. He winces.

“Another one-fifty-two.”

“What am I, a stripper? I don’t carry that much cash Mickey!”

“I don’t know what you do, just give me whatever you’ve got and don’t be a fucking bitch about it alright? This is ruining my day just as much as it is yours.”

She heaves a huge great sigh and stomps off behind the counter into whatever staff room they have back there and Mickey is just stood there like a spare prick at a picnic waiting for her to come back.

He locks eyes with the redhead, who is watching him anxiously from his spot behind the counter. Mickey’s not stupid, he knows what people’s first impression of him usually is, he worked hard for that first impression when he was growing up, doing his best to intimidate anyone he ever came into contact with.

It bothers him sometimes, that he worked so hard on it that now he freaks people out without even trying, but today he’s got other shit on his mind and he doesn’t much care if some guy Mandy shills coffee with thinks he’s bad news. He crosses his arms across his chest and stares the guy down, daring him to say something, knowing that he never will.

He’s kind of hot, Mickey realizes while he’s standing there, even if he is a pussy. There’s the hair, for one thing, Mickey’s always kind of had a thing for a redhead, plus he’s built, in a lean kind of way, and his face is like, not unpleasant to look at. And because he learned growing up that if you find something pleasant to look at you shouldn’t look at it for too long, he cuts eye contact and looks away.

Mandy marches back out into the store with a wad of cash and her ratty Sun Times tote bag that she shoves in his hands with a pissed off,

“There.”

The cash he gets, he’s grateful for, it looks like maybe sixty bucks, the tote bag though, he doesn’t know what to do with. He shakes it at her for emphasis.

“What’s this for?”

“My card wallet is in there, get whatever cash there is out of the ATM, I don’t even know what I’ve got in there right now. And there’s a MAC palette I’m selling to Scheana, you know Scheana with the pinkeye?” Yeah, he fuckin’ knows Scheana, dirty fuckin’ skank always trying to come on to him and eating all his pizza rolls. “She lives on Harper, you’ll get forty for that.”

“The fuck’s a MAC palette?”

“It’s fucking eyeshadow dickwad.”

She shoves him, hard in the shoulder, and he stumbles, resents the fuck out of his whole family.

“Take it easy bitchface, I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“Just get out of here, and tell Iggy I’m gonna kick his ass when I see him.”

She’s gone already, heading back to the counter, not even looking at him when he says,

“Yeah yeah, later.”

And he’s gone, out the door and on his way to the ATM, cursing the day any of his siblings were born, and already trying not to think too hard about dark freckles on pale skin and a head of shocking red hair.

He lasts three weeks.

It’s into October when he finally caves and engineers his route to work to take him past Tamp & Grind. And, well, his sister is working, it would be weird not to stop in and say hey, or whatever.

It’s stupid, he’s aware. He’s only seen the guy once, doesn’t even know if he’s gay, doesn’t even know if he’s working. Plus Mandy will probably tear him a new one when she gets home later. All very real and good reasons not to go there.

And yet.

He shoulders open the door, it’s warm inside, the air smells sweet and rich, he’d been in such a frenzy last time he was here he hadn’t really noticed anything about it. Apart from Ian.

That’s his name, Ian. Mandy’s co-worker who has been occupying most of Mickey’s idle thoughts for the last few weeks. He’s tried, surreptitiously, to learn anything about him from Mandy when they’ve both been home at the same time. According to Mandy he’s ‘cool’ and ‘funny’ and ‘doesn’t suck ass’ like some of her other co-workers. She’s not exactly easy to get information out of but he knows she likes coming to work more on days when Ian will be there, so when she breezed out the door this afternoon with half a smile on her face he’d taken a chance on it being a day Ian was working too.

He was right. Mandy is sat up on one of the counters, can’t be fucking sanitary, and Ian is stood just by her, messing with something under the counter.

“Could I be a sexy latte?” He hears Mandy ask, smiling over at Ian, and what a weird and disturbing image.

“What the fuck?” Mickey finds himself asking, getting the attention of the two of them and oh. He’d kind of convinced himself the last couple of weeks that his brain had amplified how good looking Ian was, that he was actually just a regular looking guy and it was just the fantasy of him that Mickey was powerlessly focused on. Boy had he been wrong.

If anything he’s more good looking than Mickey remembers, sculpted face and long lashes and deep green eyes the shade of pondweed, but in like a hot way. Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Mandy asks like he’s a fucking bug she flicked off of her windscreen this morning come back for a second go.

“Was in the neighborhood.” It’s not a good answer, suspicious as fuck, really. Mandy scrunches her nose up at him and raises one eyebrow.

“Why?” She asks. He can’t think of a single good reason.

“None o’your fuckin’ business, that’s why.”

She rings him through a coffee and they bicker back and forth about the price for a minute or two, four bucks for a black coffee seems like daylight fucking robbery to him, maybe they should open a fucking coffee shop, seems like that’s where all the money is these days. Fuck the coke, give ‘em caffeine.

He looks around the shop a little while he waits for his drink, reading the flyers stuck up on the noticeboard, fiddling with the little packets of Splenda and wooden stirrers and shit, all while chancing little glimpses of Ian behind the espresso machine. Not too obvious. Mandy already knows something’s up, she’s not giving him enough shit about being here, she’s definitely gonna get into him later, so he’s not trying to hide his interest from her, exactly. But he doesn’t want to let onto Ian just now, doesn’t want to make the guy uncomfortable if he’s not gay, or if he’s just not into Mickey. He’s shooting his own discreet glances Mickey’s way though so he feels like maybe it’s not a totally one-sided thing.

Mandy calls him over when his drink’s ready and he takes a sip right when he grabs it, suddenly itching for something to do, some purpose after he’s been stood around for five minutes just waiting. They’ve given him a fucking hazelnut latte.

Sometimes he can’t fucking stand his sister.

He always orders black coffee. Everywhere he goes, black coffee. Sure he’s got a bit of a thing for sugar, who in the world doesn’t like something sweet? And when Mandy shows up sometimes with some sort of flavored monstrosity he’ll take a sip or two, it’s no big deal. But now she’s made it seem to Ian like he’s some sort of pussy who not only likes caffeinated syrup drinks like a fourteen year old girl, but also is too much of a pussy to admit he likes them.

She’s a fucking bitch, and he tells her as much, and Ian. Well. Ian doesn’t like that.

Mandy’s probably been called a bitch a thousand times in her life, and no one has ever jumped to her defense before now. But Ian, fucking, knight in shining green apron is right there, hand on Mandy’s back, telling Mickey not to talk to her that way, and what the fuck? Mandy gives as good as she gets and if Ian hasn’t learned that yet he will, and probably soon.

It’s not not hot, him squaring up to Mickey, though the fact that it’s over Mandy’s honor gives him some pause for thought, makes him wonder if he’s got it wrong, if Ian’s actually into Mandy, actually not interested in Mickey at all, actually just a straight guy who Mickey’s been projecting onto. But when he licks his lips and calls him tough guy he can see Ian’s eyes flicker like it did something for him.

He takes off with his sugary drink and spends the rest of his walk to work trying to figure out what exactly is the deal with Ian, and when’s the next time he can go back. Preferably on a day when Mandy isn’t working.

#fic #my fic #my writing #ristretto #howl does a.u.gust #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #mickey pov

65 notes · View notes

star-girl69 · 11 months

Text

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of hypothermia, mentions of death, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Seven - Looking Over My Shoulder

—-

2021-

“I’m getting really worried that you’re not calling me back.”

Misty has been trying to get in contact with Taissa ever since this forsaken car ride started. You’re heading up north, to the purple people, and all you can think about is how much money Walter must be spending on gas right now.

“Either of you. Don’t make me come looking for you,” she chuckles, but you can see her worried reflection in the mirror. “I already found Y/N!”

“Hi!” you shout over her shoulder, and Misty nods, as if Taissa could see it.

“Anyways. Call me back.”

She clicks a button and sets her phone down, sighing softly, her face twisted into worry. She turns to you and Walter.

“If Taissa and Shauna have both been kidnapped, I am going to be very, very annoyed.”

“I’m sure they’re just busy,” Walter comforts, looking back and forth between her and the road.

“Yeah, Misty. The last thing they would wanna do it worry you,” you say, pretending to itch your nose to hide your smile.

“They’re all lucky to have you,” Walter continues, nodding. “It’s pretty rare to have a friend who’s relentlessly got your back.”

Misty smiles.

“Thank you,” she says, a little awkwardly, adjusting her glasses and she faces forward again. You watch, silent, as Walter looks at her. His eyes not anywhere near the road.

“Here,” he says after a moment, digging through the center console and taking something out, putting it in Misty’s lap. “This is actually for you. While you wait for your friend’s imminent replies.”

She opens the box, and you look over her shoulder, finding rows and rows of cassettes marked and labeled neatly.

“You can choose the music for the rest of the trip, and I won’t complain at all.”

When you look at Misty’s reflection, she’s shocked. You can’t help but wonder when’s the last time she felt loved and appreciated like this.

“Well…” she says. “It all makes sense now.”

“Huh?” you say, her face quickly turning annoyed.

“What?” Walter asks.

“Why you sought me out,” she hisses. “Why you’re helping me- us. You certainly did your homework.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“You can drop the whole thing now, okay? You’re one of those Yellowjackets obsessives.”

You gasp and hit the back of his seat. “Walter!”

“And I’m honored that I seem to be your favorite Yellowjacket. But, I am not gonna tell you anything about what happened out there. So, you can just drop us off at the next town.”

“So much for a free vacation,” you mutter, and Misty gestures towards you, nodding, glaring at Walter.

“Woah, woah. That is not what’s happening here. It’s like I told you. I sought you out from Citizen Detective because I wanted to work with the brilliant, investigative mind that is Agent AfricanGrey. And, because you dropped a Sweeney Todd reference in one of your posts. I-I don’t care. Um, no offense. Because I’m sure it was a significant trauma, but… I don’t care that you’re a Yellowjacket. That either of you are. That was like 30 years ago,” he shrugs.

“Twenty-five,” Misty whispers.

“And, that’s the least interesting thing about you.”

“So, you just… happen… to love musicals?” she says after a moment, flipping through the cassettes, a little more defensive now, but you can still tell she’s still a little flustered. “And it has nothing to do with me?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I don’t really care about musicals. Or what we play.”

“Oh,” Walker shrugs, leaning over and grabbing one. “So then you won’t be bothered if I put on…” he shows her the label.

“Oh, let’s tell the story of Cinderella, except every characters a train? Ugh, enough already,” she says, and puts in her own choice.

She sends him one final glare.

“People of Europe! I send you the Rainbow of Argentina.”

And you swear you’ve heard this song before, but you can’t seem to remember where.

—-

1996-

After Y/N leaves, her words in the air, Natalie slowly pulls on her clothes. Her arms ache from being shoved into the cold water, from banging the axe through the ice so many times she thought her arm would just be stuck in the motion forever. Then… trying to hold on. And failing.

She can hear the door open, a shuffle that sounds distinctively panicked, and she can’t help but bitterly think that, of course, Lottie has brought something back. Not her. Not when she’s been trying so hard.

She steps outside, still zipping up her jacket, only the find the girls clustered around a frozen Lottie. She’s still alive, but her face is twisted into pain, her palm is cut, and she’s turning blue.

No food in sight. But Natalie can’t even bring herself to care.

“Get her back here,” she says, her voice hoarse. Y/N turns around from where she was kneeling in front of Lottie. “We can get her to the tub.”

Y/N looks at her for a moment longer before nodding, getting to her feet, dragging Lottie up with her.

“Come on, let’s get her back there,” Shauna encourages, and Natalie just watches as they all practically drag Lottie to the back, help her get undressed, take a small step into the still-hot tub.

“It’s gonna get better,” Nat says, because she knows the cold Lottie’s feeling right now. She looks up towards Y/N, in the doorway, Lottie’s clothes bundled up in her hands.

Mari and Akilah wait behind her, anxiously looking in on Lottie, and after a moment, Y/N takes a step back.

“Let them have a minute,” she says to Lottie’s followers, and Nat heard the door click shut as she grabs a strip of cloth to wrap around Lottie’s bleeding palm.

She sits at the stool next to the tub, and Lottie holds her hand out, the blood mostly washed away by now.

It’s hard to find her voice. But she’s changed in the wilderness. She’s always been able to speak her mind, call out someone on their shit, but it’s hard to admit that she was the stupid one.

And if they’re going to survive out here, at least for a little longer, they all need to change. And it seems stupid, but they need to be a team.

“This is all my fault.” She wraps the cloth around her cut. “I’m really sorry.”

“Good game,” Lottie says, still shaking slightly. “You fucking loser,” she smiles.

“You talking shit?” Natalie can’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “You little bitch. You ended up with nil. Same as me.”

She lets Lottie’s hand fall, the bandage wrapped tightly around her palm.

“But, fine.”

She sticks out her hand. “Good game.”

Lottie looks up at her and grabs her hand.

—-

These nights, the simple ones, when you can just sit next to the fire and rest your head on Natalie’s shoulder are the easiest.

Doing nothing never hurt anyone.

“Nat,” you murmur, and the cabin is quiet enough that even your whisper seems too loud. “You know… you know that it’s not all on you, right? Just ‘cause you’re the best shot and shit? I… I just want you to know that it’s okay if you’re, like, not the best, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she whispers after a moment. “I know.”

“Okay,” you murmur, not sure if you believe her, too tired to pry.

“We’re a team.”

You lift your head up and look at her, and after a moment, she looks away from the fire. Her eyes soften and she smiles at you the way she always does. The way that makes you feel like the entire world is on fire, except for you and her.

You lean forward and kiss her softly, still scared from seeing her in the water, still so inexplicably intwined with her.

You smile against her lips.

The door slams open, too many footsteps, and swears, sounds of disbelief all spill from the girls.

“No. That’s impossible.” You look over at Shauna, and she’s staring at the door.

And when you turn, Javi stands in the doorway like like a scared deer, his eyes wide, wrapped in a blanket, his lips chapped and slightly blue.

“Javi,” you breathe, as everyone gathers around him.

Travis steps forward, and you share a look with Natalie.

“How the hell are you alive?” Travis asks, before bringing his brother into a tight hug.

How is he alive? How did he survive?

You see the look in his eyes.

What did he survive?

When Travis pulls away, Javi doesn’t speak, just stares at him- through him- unmoving.

“Javi,” Travis says softly. “Hey. It’s me. It’s your brother.”

When Javi doesn’t speak, and no one else does, Travis looks away from his brother and towards you and Natalie. You look away, and she stands up, walking to the other side of the cabin, where the light of the fire can’t reach.

“This means Lottie was right,” Mari says, smiling brightly, newfound belief shining through her. “She’s the one who said Javi was alive.”

Lottie looks shocked and slightly horrified.

“Three cheers for Lottie!” Misty shouts. “Hip, hip-”

Everyone glares at her, and her smile falls and her voice trails off.

“Lottie knew he was alive,” Van pants, pointing towards where two people sit, “But Taissa knew where he was.”

“No,” Tai says, a frown on her face, knees pulled up to her chest. Van kneels in front of her.

“No, Taissa. You can’t deny it anymore,” she breathes. “There is something inside of you that is connected to all of this.”

She stares at Van, confused and scared, to Javi and Travis hugging again. Javi still just stares, not speaking, his eyes wide open.

He survived. The cold, the hunger.

But as he stares blankly forward you know something else happened in the woods.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki @happysparklingshadows @zhivaxo @maraudeerrs @karsonromanoff @onlyangel-444 @subastronaut

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

73 notes · View notes

spartanguard · 11 months

Text

sons of love and death, 2/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon]

A/N: Time for the next chapter of this year’s @cssns story! (I plan to update every Wednesday :D ) Thank you for the warm reception to the first part; hope you enjoy this next one as well! Also: A shout-out to my writing crew on Discord; thank you for all your support as I've worked on this!!!! (And eternal thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl!)

rated M | 2.6k words | AO3 | 1

"That's not Killian."

"Are you sure?" David sounded skeptical of Emma’s statement, but she had no clue why.

"Of course I'm sure; he’s my freaking husband. That's not him," she insisted, pointing to the (admittedly handsome) stranger in the cell.

For starters, Emma had literally just left Killian at the library; there was no way he'd have had the time to start a fight with Leroy at Granny's AND get arrested in the span of 5 minutes. (At least, not anymore.)

Second, she would know him anywhere, any time, in any world. Even the haggard version of Killian she’d met in the Wish Realm was undeniably him.

So while this clearly hungover man looked and sounded like Killian, she knew it wasn't. There was nothing but anger deep in this man's eyes—a look Killian hadn't had in ages. She briefly entertained the possibility he was cursed, or that this was some kind of glamour spell or time travel, but then she took a closer look at his face: the scar was all wrong—it was deeper and cut a jagged line into his left cheek; Killian's was light and curved down the right side. And to top it all off, he had two hands.

But that only raised another question.

"Who are you?"

"Finally, one of you idiots doesn't pretend to know me." A chill went down her spine; it was Killian's voice, alright, but with more venom and spite than his ever had in the time she’d known him. And the accent was ever so slightly different—less of a lilt and more of an edge.

"I'll ask again: who are you?" She'd gotten pretty good at reading Killian, but it was proving near impossible with this guy (further proof that it was not her favorite pirate).

"How about you tell me who everyone thinks I am?" There was a challenge in his tone.

"Nope." No way was she letting him find out about Killian if he didn’t already know. "Why are you here, then?"

"That's my business." His face suddenly turned dark—well, darker—and she grew fearful. Because even though she knew he was a different person, he was starting to remind her an awful lot of the man she found hiding under some bodies in the Enchanted Forest, who was willing to burn heaven and hell to get his revenge.

"You made it our business when you came into this town," David supplied. "Either tell us why you're here, and maybe we can help you, or let us escort you out of town."

A sudden rage came over the man, and he jumped up and grabbed at the cell's bars. "I'm not leaving until I've taken what's mine!" A fire burned in his eyes as he shouted.

No, wait—that was actual fire. His hands began to glow a hot red-orange and she heard a distinct hissing sound. Two jaws dropped as the man melted the metal in his hands and then some, giving him an easy exit.

He angrily stepped through the hole he'd just made and began to stride out of the station. David attempted to grab him, but the man twisted away and turned to give them both a menacing look.

"Stay out of my way and leave the Dark One to me," he warned. A moment later, he appeared to be engulfed in flames, and the next, he was gone. Emma exchanged a look of shock with her father.

"Definitely not Hook."

“Duh,” she deadpanned. But she was stuck on something else. "The Dark One?"

"He must not know."

They didn't get a chance to process the encounter before the station phone was ringing. David answered it and hung up not a minute later, sighing.

"Speaking of."

"Gold?"

"Yeah. Turns out his shop got ransacked last night."

"Shit. And I bet we know who did it."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

So he had a doppelganger in this town; that was why everyone seemed to know him. He had transported to a spot down the street from the pawn shop and was mulling over this new detail as he made his way there, lighting a fresh cigarette as he went. He relished the fact that he'd made some trouble for his lookalike. And maybe he could use that to his advantage here.

The door still hung ajar at the pawn shop when he arrived and he could hear someone shuffling around inside. He had to pause and take a moment to calm himself down—after centuries, he was finally only feet away from his quarry; he couldn't let his hot temper get in the way right now.

As quietly as he could, he stepped toward the entryway and looked in. A graying man was poking around and muttering, leaning on a cane and inspecting the damage. Why didn’t he just wave his hand and fix it all? Surely the Dark One would have no issue with magic as small as that.

A horrific thought entered his mind: what if the power of the Dark One was void in this realm? And that was why he had a hard time sensing it? He finally got a glimpse of the crippled man’s face: it was definitely Rumpelstiltskin. But he’d yet to pick up any full traces of that dark magic.

“I know you’re there, dearie,” a voice with a distinct brogue called out. Smirking, he stepped through the threshold.

He finally stood to face-to-face with his longtime prey. Rumpelstiltskin stared back; he looked nothing like how a Dark One should appear, though—he was utterly and completely normal.

“Captain, this is highly unusual.” In his reverie, he missed the look of recognition in the Dark One’s eyes.

Captain? Well that was a juicy little tidbit. Perhaps there’d be an adjoining vessel with which to hightail it out of here. “Just seeing how you liked my handiwork.”

Only a few feet of rubble-covered wood floor separated the two. “Are you here about your hand, or is there some other reason you’ve decided to break into and ransack my shop? I thought we were done, for good.”

Hand? He quickly thought back to the appendage in a jar and made sure both of his were out of sight as he meandered across the shop, pausing to lean against the counter. “I think there’s something else you can help me with, Dark One.”

“Really? Still using that title.” Rumpeltstiltskin gave a self-satisfied smirk that looked far too natural on his face.

Careful to use his right hand (the one in the jar was a left, he’d noticed), he took the dying cigarette from his teeth and put it out in the wood of the counter. Anger rose in his chest at his foe's cockiness and lack of fear—that wasn’t something he was used to. “Where is the dagger?” he asked, voice low.

“The dagger?” Rumpelstiltskin bore an incredulous expression, but the confusion only set off his own anger (so much for trying to collect himself). In a flash, he was at the other man’s throat, the beginnings of a ball of fire forming in his palm just inches from the Dark One’s face.

“Where is your dagger?” he growled again, emphasizing each word.

A stream of emotions flitted across the apparent Mr. Gold’s face: confusion, anger, fear, and finally realization.

“Who are you?” he sputtered out.

“The man who’s going to take your power.” His voice was barely more than a rasp at this point; he was too close to back down now.

To his utter shock, the Dark One laughed. It took him by surprise, and the fireball fizzled out before it had even finished forming.

But he regained composure. “You find your demise funny?”

“I know who you are; you've been dogging me for years. But you’re too late, by quite some time. There is no Dark One; not anymore.”

He pulled back, jaw slack. Out of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, he hadn’t even contemplated this. “Impossible.”

“I’ll let the sheriff explain.”

Seemingly on cue, Emma from the station barged through the open door, gun raised and leveled at his chest. As if that would do anything. He was about to knock back the weapon with a wave of his hand, but something in her steely gaze gave him pause.

She didn’t fuck around, he could tell. But he wasn’t about to let some small-town cop spoil his quest. He guessed she had been nothing more than a jailer back in the Enchanted Forest—he knew well enough how the curse worked. So she was certainly no match for him.

"Look, darling, like I said—this doesn’t involve you.” He walked toward her, adopting a softer tone, as if speaking to a pet. “Now, I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. But if you won’t leave me be, sweetheart, then you leave me no choice."

Another fireball appeared in his hand and he shot it toward the sheriff. But she deflected it with a jerk of her arm and a pulse of white light. Of course the law enforcement had magic, he thought with a sigh. Just then, the male sheriff arrived; could he do the same?

"Who the hell are you?" she asked with a confident but stern voice.

"Well ain't that the question of the hour." She was staring daggers at him. "You can read my name when it’s engraved on the Dark One’s dagger," he threw back, gesturing at Rumpelstiltskin. "Run along now; this is between us." He waved her off.

She wasn’t fazed. Instead, she smirked, taking a thick black bracelet her partner offered. "You know what this does?"

"No clue." He didn't have time for games, but before he knew it, she'd slipped it onto his wrist.

He tried to conjure it off—burn through it, melt it, anything—but nothing happened; it was as if his magic was blocked. "What the fuck?" Tugging was no use, either. "What did you do?" he roared.

Smoothly, she cuffed him—with actual handcuffs this time. Before they left, she looked over at the former Dark One. “Is there any way to tell—”

“Yes, indeed.” A yank of his head and a prick of pain on his scalp told him that Rumpelstiltskin had taken some of his hair.

“What the hell do you need that for?” His query fell on deaf ears.

“I’ll require the Captain’s, too,” his foe told the sheriff, who nodded in assent.

He was unceremoniously shoved outside and into the back of the squad car. “Don’t you have to read me my rights in this country?” he protested.

“Yeah. You have the right to shut up.”

Surprising himself, he complied. The weight of what he’d been told moments earlier was just beginning to settle in: there was no more Dark One. As preposterous as it sounded, it made sense: there were no traces of the Darkness, or even magic, on Rumpelstiltskin, and nothing as dark as what he sought anywhere here. A sense of emptiness consumed him as he realized his life's purpose, his lone goal, simply ceased to exist.

What now?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The wail of the siren was a rude and somewhat jarring intrusion on the peace and quiet of the library. Killian nearly dropped the book he was reshelving—part of his new role as assistant librarian—and Belle was interrupted from her processing of returned items. Both watched the squad car speed by, then exchanged a concerned look.

"They...they were coming from the direction of the shop," Belle stated, shakily. After everything had been resolved with the Darkness and everyone returned to the land of the living, he and the former Dark One had come to an uneasy peace, mainly for the sake of Belle. She was his closest friend in town, outside of his in-laws, and they would always share a unique bond in their love affairs with the Dark One; hers was far longer than his, although his own dabble with the Darkness made his (and Emma’s) a bit more intense.

And in the varying events of their lives since—Gideon’s (traumatic) birth, his and Emma’s wedding, the fight against the Black Fairy, Henry’s departure, and everything else—they’d been by each other’s sides, even going so far as to work together at the library. (Emma had offered him a position at the station, but was more than understanding when Belle’s counteroffer won out, knowing how it would sate his constant craving for knowledge.) Belle was like the little sister he’d never had, and he felt protective over her.

So that was why, without hesitation, he set the books down and stepped toward the door. "Shall we?"

She quickly joined him and they raced outside and down the street to the shop. He wasn't surprised to see the door hanging open, but the lack of a doorknob altogether was surprising, as well as what looked like puddles of solid metal on the ground.

"Rumple! Are you alright?" Belle shouted as she ran into the arms of the man in question. Glass crunched underfoot and Killian had to admit, it was an impressive mess.

"Who came to exact their revenge this time?" he asked dryly. He never agreed to liking his former adversary—only the barest level of civility.

"Ahh, of course you'd know the signs of vengeance anywhere," Gold snarled back. In a few surprisingly short strides, the man was in front of Killian and reached up to yank a few hairs from his head.

"Rumple!" Belle admonished.

"What the hell was that for, mate? It wasn't me." Killian cursed Gold further internally while rubbing at the now-sore spot on his scalp.

"I know that. But there's something else we have to figure out." Rumpelstiltskin placed the hairs in a vial from his jacket, which had a few others in there already. "Belle, my darling, will you help me with something?"

"Of course," she immediately replied, but Killian could see confusion and a bit of worry on her face. Her husband may have lost his powers and was no longer under the influence of the darkness, but it had still shaped his personality over the centuries and no one but Belle knew if he had any true remaining malevolence.

"Now why don't you run along to the station, Captain. I think there's something there of interest to you." Killian didn't like the threatening tone that came his way, but he nodded his assent and bid Belle goodbye.

As he rushed across town, he felt uneasy about what was waiting at the station; regardless of what he'd been told, his concern was directed at Emma before himself. He couldn't bear the thought of some evil attaching itself to or going after her again, and it was nothing good that melted that doorknob and trashed the store.

By the time he was within a block of the station, he was sprinting, fear consuming him as his imagination ran faster than his feet. "Emma!" he shouted as he threw open the station door and ran in.

To his relief, she seemed untouched, and was deep in conversation with David and whoever was in one of the station's cells.

"Hey, is everything alright?" she asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

"If you're fine, then yes," he sighed into her hair. "Gold told me to come here; I was worried."

She pulled back to study his face, and he could see the trepidation on her face. "Swan, what is it?"

Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out from the cell—perhaps too familiar. "What the actual fuck?"

Killian looked at the prisoner and began to wonder if his eyesight was finally failing him or if there was some kind of magic afoot, because he may as well have been looking in a mirror at the form identical to his behind the bars.

"Bloody hell."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! (longer chapters to come!) tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #sons of love and death #my ff

50 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter sixteen - talk is cheap

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, death, swearing, mention of fire and like burning and stuff, its a bit sad at the end

words count: 6.1k

a/n: this took me a while bc i’ve been writing out so many requests but hopefully you all like it! the pressure is mounting guys the next few chapters shit is going down. hold onto ur hats. also i am so ready to write the next few chapters of this because its all coming together fajfejrnierifaeurngiar. eep.

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Somehow you hear Frank’s phone buzzing somewhere in the room, the vibrating ring echoing on the hardwood floor. You were practically curled up in a ball, back pressed against Frank’s chest while he had his arm wrapped over you. Even while he was asleep you could tell how strong he was, arm still not fully relaxed, his hand almost holding onto you as if you would drift away in any moment. It was exactly the opposite of what you would do— of what you want to do.

I want to stay. Of course you did. Even if it wasn’t like this, the rise and fall of his finally relaxed breathing pressing you even closer - he was the only person who wasn’t afraid of you, who didn’t look at you like you were what you are. He understood— on some level or another. He wouldn’t force your hand, wouldn’t keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. So, that became exactly the place you wanted most.

The fact that he was also, well, him— you still felt like you were floating even now, long after you had passed out from last night. You couldn’t help the way you shivered a little just thinking about it. He was sweet when you needed and rough when you asked, every part of your body felt like it had been changed permanently. You rolled over, his arm staying tight around you, and your face was nearly pressed to his as you shook him lightly.

“Frank.” You tried to whisper, the phones ringing stopping for a short second, and then picking up again. Clearly, whoever it was needed him now, and being around him long, there’s only one person who calls him period, let alone this early. He still doesn’t budge. “Frank.”

“Shh.” He groans and nearly smothers you as both his arms link around your frame, every sense surrounded by him. “Sleep.”

“Your phone.” He takes in a deep breath, and your face buries into the new space, finding his collarbone. You press your mouth to his skin, getting distracted when he almost moans at the touch.

“S’ Madani. She’ll call back.” He moves his head higher, and your mouth trails up, kissing his neck, just under his jawline. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, threading slowly up through your hair.

“She already has.” He still holds you where you are, teeth and tongue working to give him matching bruises where you are sure you are covered in them. “Might be important. The article. From Karen.”

“Give me one minute, baby. One more minute of you.” Smiling, you make your move and push him onto his back, leg swinging over his torso. Neither of you bothered to put actual clothes on last night— you in one of Franks shirts and him in nothing at all. Both of you sigh a little when you drop your weight on top of him, and you pin his arms up near his head, leaning down to kiss him.

He gives up control easily, letting you take whatever you want from him. You stay slow, sleep still clouding half your brain. He moves a little underneath you and you let him, legs spreading wider. He groans into your mouth and you roll your hips, desperately aware of how he reacts to the small movement. You swear you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and he leans forward as you begin to shuffle down. Maybe more than just a minute…

The phone buzzes again, somehow louder now, the vibrations moving it closer to where you and Frank have claimed a corner of the bed.

“Pass it to me.” He whispers, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. Your eyes nearly roll back at the look he gives you, but you bend down and grab the phone, reluctantly handing it to him despite knowing he needs to answer it. “Better be good, Madani.”

“Did you get the paper this morning?” You can hear the agent say through the phone, and Franks free hand falls to your hip, pulling at the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“I got a good idea what it says.”

“I should of expected you to blow this thing into extreme proportions. It’s seven thirty and I already have four dead Gnucci foot soldiers spread out across 5th Avenue.” Your eyes widen a little at that. Sure, it was part of the plan— turn the two gangs against each other and lighten the load for you and Frank to inevitably tear to pieces. You were just surprised it had happened so soon.

“Karmas a bitch, ain’t it?” His thumb runs circles along your hipbone, goosebumps rising under his touch. You can see him smile when he notices. “I’m a busy man, so unless you got something for me…”

“I know where the brother is.” Franks hand freezes on your hip and your body goes tight. “The men who were killed— one of them had a comm leading through a secure network. I got to it, gave it to someone I trust back at base. There’s a hold out near…” The rest of the conversation fades off, you only getting parts that from where you are, it would take about seven hours to get to where your brother is.

Frank sits up, and it hits you all at once, almost like a punch to the gut. Your brother— the one you had been searching for, fighting for your entire life. The one you had killed for. He was only seven hours away.

“And Frank—“ Madani says as you start to focus back into the conversation. “—there’s going to be a time in this where I have to start connecting dots.” Frank looks at you, a strange emotion on his face somewhere between concern and…

“Just say it, Madani.”

“I’ve already got men breathing down my neck asking about my source for the Silo incident, and now with this article… shits hitting the fan, and all eyes are on me. When her brother is out, I need to bring her in.” His face twitches, nose scrunches almost when she says it. You knew it was inevitable. You were marked as immediate disposal on your file. Back then, you didn’t really give a shit if you got out alive or not, as long as your brother was safe. Looking down at Frank, you think of one more thing you would want to protect.

“I already told you-“

“I know what you told me. I’m not putting her in a bunker, but I need a paper trail. Something I can use to clear all this shit up. And I need more information. You may want to be in and out with as many bodies as possible, but this network runs deeper than you can imagine. I need to think of the bigger picture.” Frank says something like ‘whatever’ and hangs up the phone, tossing it onto the floor.

“Seven hours away.” You say and he nods, his hand still frozen at your hip.

“I won’t let anything happen t’you.” You start to lift yourself off him, but something about the way he looks at you makes you pause. There’s only been a few times when you can’t place the emotion he’s looking at you with. You were pretty good at reading people, and you were practically versed in Frank, but with his wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, you just paused. Then, lean down to kiss him lightly.

“Thank you.” You feel his free hand hold the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes close, and yours stay open, watching the displaced emotion melt away. He nods again, and lets you go, throwing the covers off himself and finally getting out of bed.

Both of you waste no time, getting dressed with new clothes and restocking with food as best you can with what Karen still has around. You eat whatever you can find, chewing through fruit and the rest of Karen’s honey oats, Frank eating whatever you don’t. After you had practically ransacked the place, Frank wrote a quick note and left the key on the counter, grabbing your bags and heading to the door.

Your hand goes to the door knob, and both of you freeze.

You don’t have to open it to know who’s on the other side. You know those footsteps, the weight of them, how he leans slightly to the left because he got shot when he was 18 and it never really healed right. You know his breathing, laboured now he had made it up the steps to the apartment. You knew the sound of his voice, how he told the two other men with him not to knock the door down. Told them to wait, that he wanted to be the one to talk.

Frank’s artillery was swung over his shoulder, another bag in his hand, while yours was on your back. The cool metal of the barrel of the gun Frank forced you to carry around was a glaring reminder of where you were, and how the man on the other side of the door was far more apt at using it. You also weighed your options. You could kill him now— you knew where your brother was. You just had to make it there before his men could send the order. Not that they would be able to if you could kill them, too—

“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice was rough, mocking as the nickname floated into your ears making you want to hurl. Frank pressed closer, shoving you away from the door a little. “I know you’re in there.”

The shock of him really being here was starting to set in. Bobby Gnucci never got his hands dirty. Never put himself in the firing line. When you’re that rich, you can buy people to stand in front of you. Why the hell was he here, then? And how the hell did he find you?

“Nice place here. I’m sure Ms. Page would be upset if we shot through her lovely oak door. Why don’t you come out and we can talk like adults.” The mention of Karen’s name made you both pull out your weapons. “That is what you are, yes? An adult? You so often reminded me that is what you are now.”

You go to open your mouth to reply, but Frank shakes his head and nods towards the window. The fire escape would lead you right down to the car. Was he suggesting you leave? Now, when Bobby was right there?

“You know, it’s a shame, really. About The Colonel. As pathetic as he was, the man sure had a knack for politics. But a gun shot to the head? That’s not how I raised you, is it sunshine?”

Frank starts to pull you back, further inside the apartment. You try to ask why - why the hell wouldn’t you take them on, take them here? He just shakes his head, jaw clenched. You knew if there was a reason Frank wasn’t killing anyone, it was probably a good one.

“And I did. Raise you. You were so young, when we first met. I guess I was, too. Clearly we’ve both changed. Ms. Page didn’t recognise my voice when I called to meet her, and doesn’t have the slightest clue she’s sitting in a cafe with my best hit man right now.” Fuck. That’s why Frank wasn’t shooting. “Change is for the best sometimes. Even if it comes at a cost.”

“What do we do?” You mouth at Frank. His eyes are trained on you. Before he answers, Bobby speaks again.

“If you don’t open the door, I’ll have my men shoot Ms. Page where she sits. One word from me and they’d tear your brother apart, too.” You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t see Franks face when you speak.

“What do you want?” You sound cold— a tone of voice you haven’t used in months.

“Ahh. There you are.” He sighs through the door, and you take a step closer. Franks eyes widen, standing in front of you. “What I want. I think I have made that fairly clear, no? You have made things decidedly harder for me with this article, you see. My men question my loyalty, question if I am still in my right mind, chasing a ghost such as yourself.”

You take another step and Franks forearm stops you, pushing you away from the door. You shove him back, instead pushing him towards the window. If he could make it out undetected—

“I want you. I want you by my side.”

“You want me as your weapon.”

“Does one not hold their weapon at their side? Care for it? Tend to it, keep it safe? You would not know, to be fair. I’ve given you no reason to ever need one.” Your grip around the gun tightens. You mouth ‘go’ to Frank, but he just stands there. You do it again, and pull the gun out, training it on the door. Frank finally manages to move, seeing you with the weapon. If he doesn’t get a head start, he won’t make it to the building. “Open the door, and I’ll take you to your brother, and we can go back to how it was.”

“When you locked me up?” Frank had moved, but only towards you, hands coming lightly under your chin. You tell him to go again, and you think he might kiss you. His hand drops and wraps over yours, the one holding the gun. He trains it on the door and angles you so that you are as close the the open window as possible, laying out your exit.

“As soon as that door opens, leave. Come to me. Get him to open the door, and come to me.” He whispers in your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

“You know why I did that. You disobeyed me.” Bobby’s voice breaks you away from Frank. He needs to open the door. An idea starts to spark.

“I fucked someone else. That’s why you did it.” Frank looks at you one last time before he turns to the window, and he almost looks like he’s smirking.

“That is not why.” Bobby sounds through the door, shakier than before.

“The Colonel told me. That you think I’m some kind of gift to you, from your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father!” He shouts, and Frank has already disappeared, hopefully dropping down the fire escape and in the car already. “He is dead.”

“Clearly. If he were alive, you wouldn’t have lost four men this morning.”

“Open the door.”

“If he were alive, he would have killed me the moment I stepped out of line. But you couldn’t, could you?”

“You are on thin ice. Open this door, now.” He says, angrier. Good. You want him angry. Angry enough that he will burst inside. Or at least, the guards will. Them, you can kill without blinking.

“You couldn’t kill me. That’s why you locked me up in there. You really are obsessed.” You bite out, mocking thick in your voice. All the anger of all those years you spent with him bubbles to the surface. You only wish you could see his face. “It wasn’t that you needed me. It’s that you wanted me. You just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”

“I will break this door down-“

“You had all those years to watch me, train me like some prized bull, and build the perfect weapon. Your father knew you couldn’t do it alone, that’s why he started it without you. He died thinking you would at least have the brains to finish it for him, but you just fucked it up again, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up! I will kill him you—“ He was yelling now, screaming. You imagine his face bright red, an ugly vein popping out of his forehead, more prominent now he was older.

“You could only think with your dick! You locked me up because you were jealous and ruined your fathers legacy, and now you need me to fix it for you!” The door burst in and you pulled the trigger, the body of the first guard hitting the floor before the frame of the oak wood did.

The second guard faltered, not expecting you to be armed, and all that training with Frank flooded back to you. As soon as she stutters you fire again, a bullet flying through his throat and ricocheting onto the drywall behind.

Your gun is trained on the door, and you were backing up, feeling the breeze from the open window whip at the back of your legs. It’s close, and you crouch, starting to climb out of it when you see him.

Bobby Gnucci steps into the room, face still read from screaming at you, though now he is calmer, void of emotion. He almost smiles when he sees you, teeth yellowing from years of smoking those disgusting cigars he always smelt of.

“You look better.” His voice was sickly sweet, and the way his eyes roam your body feels nothing like the way it does when Frank does it. “Good.”

“I’m going to get my brother back.” He raises his eyebrows, keeping his composure. The way he stands, confidence oozing out of his jet black suit, you are reminded why his family is so feared. He isn’t tall, and he’s bigger than when you last saw him, but he looks like his father. All dark, oily hair and crumpled features.

“He isn’t yours to take. If your own father had been smarter, perhaps-“

“I’m going to get him back. Then I will come for you.” You step out of the window, gun still trained on him. You had to hope Frank had gotten to Karen by now, because it was your only chance.

“Think about who you are threatening.” He warns, taking a step towards you.

“It’s all I’ve thought about. For three fucking years. I will come for you, and I will burn everything you built to the ground.” Your word choice is purposeful. You want him to know. You want him to know that he will feel what you felt, what he did to you will come for him. Eventually.

You drop from view, throwing yourself off the fire escape and hit the ground running. The wind whistles past yo has you run the distance you drove yesterday to the main building of the Bulletin. If Frank hadn’t made it yet, it would be down to you. Faces pass in a blur and a few cars honk as you cross streets recklessly, and when the building begins to form in sight, you don’t see and blue and red flashing lights, which you take as a good sign.

Then, Frank crashes through the front window of the main lobby, his hands around the throat of a giant looking man.

You run to him, only stopping when you hear Karen inside, ushering someone out of the emergency exit. Frank flips the guy over and pounds his fist into his face, the sound of bone cracking letting you know he has it covered.

“Karen!” You shout and she looks up, relief washing over her face when she sees you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! We need to go— You. You need to go. The police are on their way. You and Frank—“

“Don’t worry about us. I need to get you out of here. Do you have somewhere you can—“ Another shatter of window sends glass flying into the air, and you cover Karen as best you can. She’s looking at something behind you, and when you focus, you can feel it. Someone, not something.

“Matt?” Karen shouted, one arm covering her forehead where a little blood seeped out from a cut. The man moved past you, taking her face in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Jesus! I’m fine! What are you doing here?!” She shouts at him, but you know that kind of shout. She’s not really mad, and you remember a conversation about her and someone called Murdock, and out together the pieces.

“I heard you! You need to-“ He pulls her closer, hand searching her face. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” She whispers, the lobby now completely empty. The lack of sound also makes you look back, seeing Frank climbing off the mangled body underneath him. Karen looks at you, keeping her hands linked with the man’s. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Do you have somewhere you can go? Bobby, he knows your place.” She nods, eyes flicking to the man. Matt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get- this isn’t what I wanted. I’ll make sure you’re safe, I swear-“

“It’s not your fault. I would of done it anyways. Journalism has its risks. It’s not the first time something like this has happened anyways.” You smile at her, slightly confused as to how anything like this could of happened to her before, but Matt also smiles and it seems like there’s a lot you don’t know about her.

“Get out of here. Please.” You say and she looks past you, to Frank, who was digging through the pockets of the man he’d just killed.

“Thank you. Both of you.” She says, and then she does something that both makes you want to cry and laugh. She hugs you. Tightly, both arms wrapped around you. You don’t think a woman has hugged you since your mother.

When she pulls away you must look confused, or scared because she looks to the floor, smiling.

“Look after him. He needs you.” She says, and Matt moves his head towards you, nodding, before taking her hand and leading her out of the broken lobby.

You turn to Frank, who finally stands and staggers over to you, holding his side. You can hear sirens ringing in the distance, and you know you don’t have long before they reach you here.

“You okay?” He’s swaying a little, and his entire arm is gushing with blood. The hand holding his sight is bright red, too. “Fuck. Where’s the car?”

“S’ that way.” He slurs, and arm swinging over your shoulder.

“What happened?”

“Big guys. Had a lotta…” He sucks in a sharp breath when you step out of the lobby, turning him down the street. “You get out okay?”

“Had my lucky charm with me.” You tap the gun in the waistband of your pants, and even though he’s probably in a lot of pain, he smiles down at you.

“That’s my girl.” More of his weight drops into your shoulder, and your steps start to slow as you see the car approaching. Frank fumbles with the keys, and eventually drops them on the ground. You lean him up against the car as he groans, picking them up. “S’worried.”

“You know I can handle myself better than you can.” He’s lost more blood than he probably realises, and looks pale. You have no idea how many men were inside the lobby before you got there, only catching the end of it. You take the bags off his shoulder and shove them in the car, and when you turn back to him, he’s sliding off the hood and nearly hitting the pavement.

“Frank! Jesus— what the hell did you do to yourself?” He groans when you pull him back up, his arms nearly slipping from your grasp, wet with blood.

“S’okay, baby. Just gotta get…” His head practically rolls to the side, face screwing up in pain when he tries to swing his legs in. “Ah—fuck.”

“What do I do? Frank, I can’t fix this. I don’t know where to—“ There’s so much blood, when you close yourself into the drivers side of the car you can smell it— a mix of metallic sharpness and salt. There’s so much of it, and you half consider driving him to a hospital. Or one of the ambulances that have probably pulled up to the lobby. You couldn’t fix yourself, let alone him. You couldn’t even sew a cut on your leg— “Frank. Please keep your eyes open.”

“Mmm.” His head hangs forward now, and his eyes flick to the side, observing as you slam on the accelerator and drive forward. “Where you goin’?”

“We need help. You. You need help.” He’s slurring his words, and if he passes out you’ll have to— yeah, you’d drive him straight to the hospital. Screw everything, you’d figure it out, but he couldn’t die here. Not in a car, coming out of a fight you pushed him into, one he never would of found if it weren’t for you—

“Right. Turn right.” You hit it hard, your arm coming across Franks chest to keep him from slamming into the door. “Exit on fifth.”

“You need a— I can’t help you like this, Frank. I can take you to a hosptial—“ He’s shaking his head, grunting no before you finish the thought. “—Curtis? Where is he? He can help.” You take the exit, not sure where you’re going but blindly trusting Frank, even though he’s a second away from losing an arm.

“Not here. Pull into the g—“ He groans as you swerve onto the left side of the road. “—It’s okay. We just need a little time…”

“Frank.”

“Garage. One with the green door.” You see it a block away, and pull into it, immediately getting out of the car and helping Frank out.

He’s limping even with you supporting him, and now you can see the bright red marks on his shoes, lines on the pavement carved by the flow of blood from somewhere else under his clothes. He ushers you to a side door that opens to some storage unit sized garage, full of bags and old furniture.

You lay him down on an old couch, and when he huffs finally landing, you stand up and get a good look at him, and nearly puke.

You’ve seen blood before. This is tame— compared to what you’ve seen, what you’ve done before. Blood doesn’t make you sick, but his blood does. And there’s so much of it. His head is soaked, eyes both black, shirt wet— not damp, sopping wet with thick, red liquid. You haven’t even taken his shirt off and you know it’s bad. Bad and you can’t fix it, you couldn’t even fix yourself.

“Hey. Blue bag— trauma kit in there.” Franks hand weakly taps at your leg, and you realise you’d frozen above him. You move, hands shaking as you tear open the blue bag, gauzes and equipment you’ve never seen falling out in front of you. You look back to him, eyes wide. “It’s gonna be fine. Now grab…”

“I can’t do this. We need to take you to a hospital.” He’s sliding his shirt up and there’s so much of his blood that shouldn’t be here, not like this—

“Baby, you can do this. I need you to do this for me, okay? I know you’re scared, but I trust you.” His voice is cracking, but he’s looking at you with urgency and— trust, maybe. Maybe that’s it. The look you’ve been trying to pin, where his eyes go a little soft and he leans closer to you. Whatever it is, it’s enough, and you look back down to the equipment.

“Okay. Okay. Just… tell me. Which ones do I…” He pulls his shirt up and you lean on your knees, seeing what you know to be a gun wound. “Oh, fuck.”

“Tweezers.” He says, and twists to the side. The wound is right in the edge, but it looks like the bullet might still be in there. You can see it, just under the surface of his scarred skin. “You gotta get it out.”

“Okay.” Your voice was cracking but you did what he asked. Grabbing the tweezers, your slightly improved confidence has you moving into position. You remember Frank holding you when he did this to you, how he told you how good you were doing. How he called you sweetheart. You take a breath and put your hands on his side.

“You might need to p-“ He cries out when you shift the wound slightly, and you take your hands off him. “It’s okay. Just keep going. You’ll have to dig around. Get it out.”

“Shit. Shit. Okay, I’m sorry.” You look at Frank, who tries his best to look confident in you, but then groans as you dig the metal into his side and balls his fists into the couch. “I can feel it.”

“Mm.” He grunts out, jaw tight and breathing fast through his nose. If he keeps going like that, he’ll pass out and you need him awake. Frank kept you awake when he did it by talking. You can do that. You can do this.

“You’re doing good, Frank. I’ve almost got it.” He cries out again as you dig in, clamping the bullet around the metal. “You’re a really good teacher.”

“Good to—fuck. Good to know.” His eyes are squeezed shut, but momentary relief floods his face when the bullet leaves the wound. “Needle and the string in the green packet.”

“Alright. Just two or three, right?” He nods once, and you remember how many when he removed them from your skin. As you bring the supplies back to him, you bring gauze as well, gently cleaning the area as best you can. When he did it, he had water, and his skin is so caked with blood you can’t find the edge, so you do your best. He hisses when you get close, and you use the other hand to rub small, soothing circles on his other side. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. Just push is through. Line i—it up straight and pull it together. Fuck.”

“One down.” You follow his instructions, applying one shoddy stitch to his wound.

“That’s it-“ He pauses, eyes fluttering closed. You call his name, shake him a little but all that does is make the wound bleed more.

“Frank.” You move up, yelling in his ear. Nothing. His heart was beating, but your hand was wet with his blood. “Frank!”

He wasn’t awake. He’d passed out. You remembered when you were shot, and how hard he tried to keep you awake. It must be bad, that he’s passed out. A concussion— you knew he couldn’t sleep with a concussion. You needed to wake him up. You tried to think— when he did this for you, even though you wanted to sleep so badly, you heard his voice. Talking. He called you sweetheart.

Okay. You could do that— he always said how he could never get you to shut up. He’d talked you through the first one, you just had to do it over and over again. You had to talk him through it. You adjusted on your knees, replacing the soaked red gauze with a new one and exposed a little more of the wound.

“I can count on one hand how many times you’ve fallen asleep before I did.” You say to the small room. He can’t hear you, head lulled to the side, but you talk anyway. It was his voice that drew you to consciousness, a life ring in the weird fading fuzziness that blood loss tinged your body with. “It’s lazy, really. And do you remember, the first night we were in that really small hotel with the blinking lamp? And I told you that you should of gotten ice for your head? Bet you wished you listened to me.”

You were stabbing painfully at the wound, the slipperiness of his blood making it hard to get a hold on it. You tried to be gentle, but you needed to be safe more. Another few uneven ties eventually pulled his skin together, and you immediately covered the wound, wrapping it in gauze and sticking bandages over it. You grabbed more of the supplies out of the bag, ripping open packages that looked like what you had just used.

“If this is some kind of fucked up lesson like when you made me stay up for five hours with a gun on the door, I’m going to kick your ass.” You tried to tell yourself you were talking to him, but it was more a distraction for you, giving yourself something to focus on other than the gaping wound across his chest that you now had to try and pull back together. “I think I miss that time, though. I didn’t know how good I had it. New York feels so... full. I’ve lived in big cities my whole life, you know. Those shitty motels were always so empty. I liked the open space.”

A part of him flinched under you. Maybe it was just because you were hurting him, or a reflex, but either way it meant he wasn’t dead, and that was encouragement enough. Your hands continued to rectify the cut, now almost completely closed. Looking down his body, there was a lot of superficial wounds that you wouldn't be able to do much with, but there was a gash in his leg that was dripping blood onto the floor, and you grabbed a shirt from one of the bags in the room and tied it over until you could get to it.

“I just liked being outside, I think. Like that place in the woods, where you pulled all those guns out of the floor. If it wasn’t so small, I would have never left. I could breathe out there— I never felt like I could get a real breath in underground. You know, when they kept me down there.” Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the fact that this was the chance to talk to someone without having to worry how they would react. Frank wouldn’t even remember it.

“My dad used to have a basement at our house. He did all his research down there, when he wasn’t stuck at the lab. Even there, I hated it. It was so cramped— he could never get enough of it, though. I used to stand at the top of the steps that led down there, playing a song on my phone or something, and he’d sing it with me. Then he’d walk up the steps and scoop me up, carry me out of there.” Everything feels like it’s hot— Frank’s skin under your hands. It felt like infection. You grabbed some of the saline and squeezed it over the wounds, then shuffled down and did the same to the one on his leg before starting to stitch again.

“That’s where he was. When they set the house on fire. My mom could never sleep without him, so she was waiting for him, making a few bottles for my brother in the kitchen.” A slow, shuddering exhale, and a few quick blinks of your eye allows you to see straight again. “I always think about what he was doing. If he was happy— if he struggled. Sometimes he fell asleep down there and mom had to go and drag him to bed. I like to think he was asleep when it happened.”

“My mum was screaming. For him, for me to get out. For my brother. I don’t even remember how I got the door unlocked. I think I dislocated my shoulder breaking it down. Eventually I knew mom was... she stopped screaming. I just kept bashing the door down. I was thinking ‘if I can just get in here, just get him and then I can go and help her’. He was a baby. I had to—“ You saw lines forming in the dry blood on Frank’s chest, and you knew you were crying. You straightened up, not wanting to get anything else on him. “I still remember Bobby. His face, hovering behind his fathers. Coming to collect their prize. My brother had ash on his face, he was sneezing every three seconds and I couldn’t stop him crying.”

Your words were choked, and every sentence came out in a hiccuped string of sobs you knew were hardly coherent. Somewhere in between, you ad sewn him up. You had managed it — somehow, you had tied him together, at least enough so the blood wasn’t dripping like a faucet anymore. There was more to do, so much blood all over him. His head was hanging off the couch, and there was a piece of metal you hadn’t seen sticking out of his right arm.

You grabbed the bottles of water you saw in the corner, along with the saline and remaining gauze. You were running out considering how much you had used on the gun shot wound, but you’d manage. You wiped your tears on the back of your arm and got to work, and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from talking to him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tag list:

@stress--relief

@hellskitchens-whore

@blkwayne

@itwasthereaminuteago

@margoo0

@daisykins

@paryl

@urlocalgeek

@hello-lisa1026

@castlesnchurches

@superbreadsoul

@lemon-world1

@officalpetergriffin

@batcreep

@quackson03

@violetsandroses8

@turningtoclown

#frank castle #marvel tv #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #the punisher x you

167 notes · View notes

jiliansky-blog · 10 months

Text

The cat of dreams. Chapter 6

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2000

The next morning I should decide what to do next. There is still a chance that Corinthian can wait for me somewhere near my work. I would have shown him that Morpheus or simple black cat isn’t here anymore. But I would rather not invite the nightmare murderer to my house. I can take a day off from work, saying that I’m ill. Or even stay home till the end of the week. Or I can go to work today, reassure this nightmare, that I don’t have a cat anymore, if he believes me. And take a vacation for a week or two. And hope, that Morpheus will return during this time. Or maybe I should take work home. I also need to check that Corinthian won’t follow me home or anywhere else. So I had breakfast and went to work. I decided to work today and then take a vacation for a week or two. Fortunately, I didn’t see the nightmare nearby. And my boss noticed my tired statement and concern. “You looked exhausted”, she said with sympathy.

“I didn’t sleep this night”, I sighed. “Family problems”. “Maybe, you should take the day off today then”, she suggested. “Actually I want to take a vacation”, I asked sheepishly. It was a good opportunity. “On a week or two maybe”. “Is everything so bad?” she asked. “Everything is complicated”, I sighed. “You know what, you can take a day off today and a two-week vocation”, she said suddenly. “When you were last time on vacation? A year ago?” “Are you sure?” I asked surprised. “Yes, why not”, she smiled. “In case I feel bored, I can work from home the next week”, I said. “As you wish”, Nora nodded. “You can go home now”. “Is there any chance you drive home now or a little bit later?” I asked. “I will go to the center in an hour”, she said. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“You can drive me to the center”, I said. “And I can go home from there. Please, if it’s not too much. I just don’t want to go home alone, you know”. “Is everything alright, Olivia?” she looked at me. “Well”, I tried to figure out what to say. “My ex-boyfriend appeared again in my life. I met him twice already not far from here. I don’t want to meet him again”. “Did he do something to you?” she frowned.

“No, he didn’t”, I sighed. “I just don’t want to see him again, and he doesn’t understand it. I’m afraid he will appear again”. “I see”, she nodded. “Okay, you can go with me. I will tell you when I’m ready to leave”. I worked a few more hours till she took me to the center of the city. I feel relief. “Thank you very much”, I smiled. “You are so kind. How can I repay you?” “Just invite me to coffee when you came out of vacation”, she smiled. “And rest so you can be as talented as usual”. “Okay”, I smiled and got out of the car. “See you”.

She drove away. And I head back home in need to sleep. I guessed if I see Morpheus in my dreams. But something tells me that I won’t. It’s been less than a week, but I am used to his presence. And now all that he left for me is his nightmare. Fortunately, I didn’t see Corinthian around the house and could go to sleep after dinner. Perhaps, I was thinking about Morpheus and it explains why I ended up in some fantasy place. I saw a beautiful castle once, now almost ruined. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t recall it. And I decided to take a closer look.

“Who are you?” suddenly I heard a female voice and saw a woman in a suit with dark skin and pointy ears. “I didn’t see dreamers here for a long time”. “Olivia”, I said. “I don’t know how I get here. Where am I?” “In the Dreaming”, she replied. “It’s the lord’s Morpheus castle. Wait, you are the mortal, who helped him after escape”. “That’s me, yes”, I smiled. “I didn’t know how I appeared here. Probably, I thought too much about it”. “Or you still have a connection with him”, said the woman. “I’m Lucienne, his librarian”.

“Nice to meet you, Lucienne”, I said. “Is Morpheus here?” “No, he is no search of his belongings”, she sighed. “Oh, I see. At least it means that he is alright. Can you please tell him that probably will be in another place in the next two weeks, so Corinthian won’t be able to find me”. “Corinthian is after you?” she looked scared. “Yes, I met him two times after my work”, I said. “He thinks Morpheus is with me. Morpheus said, that I should avoid him at all costs”.

“It would be better, yes”, she nodded. “I will tell him, what you just said. I can’t invite you inside, because…well”. “I understand, the place is not rebuilt after Morpheus's disappearance”, I admitted. “Perhaps, I should leave or wake up then. “Thank you”, Lucienne said suddenly. “For taking care of Lord Morpheus. Not everyone would do the same”. “I was glad to help”, I smiled. “He suffered enough. And he is nice in his own manner. I hope to see him soon”. She looked at me and smiled like she understands something I didn’t know. “Perhaps, we will meet again”, she said. “Yes, see you later, Lucienne”, and I woke up.

I couldn’t understand at first was it a morning or evening? Then I remember that I return home earlier from work. I started to think about where I can go for my vacation. Then I remembered one of my friends invited me to the cabin in the countryside. Perhaps, it would be the perfect solution to rest and avoid nightmares. And maybe there will be quiet enough to work a little. “Hello, Melody”, I called my friend. “How are you?” “Fine, and you?” she asked. “Is something happened?” “I’m fine, I just need a place for vacation”, I said. “Is your offer still valid?” “Of course”, she said. “When can you go?” “I can go tomorrow”, I replied. “Wow, you are fast”, she noticed. “Did something happen?”

“No, just want to clear my head in the new place outside the city”, I said. “You can’t lie, you know”, she admitted. “You have never tried to run away so fast. So are you going to tell me?” “There is…one man who scare the hell out of me”, I replied with a sigh. I didn’t even try to tell her about Morpheus. She won’t believe that part. “I met him twice outside my work. I have a feeling he is following me for some reason”. “Did you call the police?” she asked, concerned. “No, what am I going to say to them?” I asked. “That he seemed suspicions to me because he invited me for a coffee?”

“That he is a stalker”, she said. “No, they wouldn’t believe me”, I said. “Anyway, I’m going to your cabin”. “Alright”, she sighed. “I will call you in the morning and pick you up”. “You shouldn’t do it”, I smiled. “I won’t let you get there alone when some strange guy might follow you”, she said. “Wait for me at ten a.m.” “See you tomorrow then”, I replied and ended the conversation.

It was evening. I didn’t want to go anywhere. No, when this Corinthian might be out there. So I decided to read, have dinner and then go to sleep. I still was tired. And I found myself missing Morpheus. Even though I knew him for a few days. When I fell asleep the next time I didn’t meet him in the dreams. And I didn’t appear in the Dreaming either. I felt disappointed. He could say something that he is alright. I woke up before Melody’s call. I was in the middle of the breakfast. She was going to drive to me in half an hour. So I still have time to finish my breakfast and dress up. “Are you ready?” asked Melody, when she came. “Yes”, I said. “I woke up earlier because I fell asleep earlier yesterday”. “Are you nervous?” she asked. “A little”, I said. “Let’s go”.

I caught myself worrying about that guy. But he was nowhere to be seen and I was relieved. I hope that Morpheus will find me there. “So are you alright?” she asked. “I need more sleep and rest”, I smiled. “But I’m alright. Thank you”. “Do you want me to stay there with you?” she asked. “I don’t know”, I replied. “You can stay for a night or two. I don’t want to steal you from your life entirely”. “I don’t see you often, so I won’t mind staying with you tonight”, she smiled. “Are you sure you’re alright?” “I feel tired”, I sighed. And I wanted to see Morpheus again. This god of dreams doesn’t even know that he doesn’t leave my mind. The cabin was nice. It was small but had two comfortable beds, a modern shower, and a kitchen. You can bring food here or you can go to the café nearby. It was surrounded by forest and lake. So peaceful.

“Wow, it’s so nice here”, I said. “Told you”, smiled Melody. “You can rest here”. “Thank you”, I smiled too. “I don’t know, how I can thank you”. “You don’t”, she smiled. “A bottle of wine is enough”. The day I spent in solitude because my friend should work. She works in a café, that is why she told me about this place. I can sleep a little, but I didn’t appear in the Dreaming again. Then Jodie woke me up with a call. “Where are you now?” she asked. “And how is your cat?” “Long story short, I found his owner and the cat was actually fine, just tired”, I said. “And I’m in the cabin now, not in the town. But please don’t tell anyone”. “Why?” she seemed surprised. “I just don’t want to talk or see anyone”, I said. “Oh, okay”, she said. “Are you alright?” “Yes, I’m just tired”, I said. “See you in two weeks”. In the evening Melody joined me and we drink wine, listen to music, and discus different topics. “You didn’t find a man”, she said. “Why?” “You made it sound so easy”, I smiled, but think about Morpheus. He was mysterious and handsome. And kind in his own manner. I hoped I will see him again. “I know this look”, she said.

“What look?” I asked confused. “You fell in love”, she said. “Who is he?” “Well…”, I smiled. “I can tell you, but you won’t believe me. So, I can say he is mysterious and handsome. And I helped him once”. “Wow”, she said. “Sounds like a novel. Is he a reason behind your escape?” “Partially”, I replied. “There was some other guy who looked for him. And he somehow suspected that I know him”. “Girl, what are you getting yourself into?” she asked. “Are they criminals or what? Because it would explain your fast escape”. “No, at least the man I liked is not a criminal, but he said that another man is dangerous”, I said.” That is why I escaped”. “Oh my god, how did you even can get in these troubles”, she said. “You know, I will stay with you while you’re here”.

“There is no need for that”, I said. “Then call to police”, she insisted. “We talked about this already”, I said. “When I see him again, I will call them”. “Alright”, she sighed. The next day she went to work and returned only in the evening. Meanwhile, I read, write novels, and went to the café. When I fell sleep, I didn’t see Morpheus or the Dreaming and it was a disappointment.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe @ladymoztaza

#sandman x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman fanfiction #The Sandman

28 notes · View notes

wifiwuxians · 7 months

Text

20 questions writer meme.

tagged by @heyholmesletsgo THANK YOUUU

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

not counting things i'd rather remained anonymous, 21!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

513,621 lol

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mdzs, vaguely tgcf, hotline miami (though mostly past tense) and we'll see about the future

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Wei Wuxian's Super Special Super Secret Book Club still reigns supreme with 1229 kudos, and will most likely be my legacy despite it being the second fic i ever wrote for the fandom (i think?)

If You're Reading This, It's Too Late with 513, one would think i'd still be messing around with this AU but i'm happy to leave it where it is and just keep messing around with the crackship

Dawn Chorus, my most precious baby, at 251 by some miracle despite being oc/canon. you guys spoiled me with the love for this one tbh. none of my other xue yang centric works got anywhere near this close and i'm at peace with that because he's bonking my oc in this one and they have a kid.

The Book Club Extras at 232, which is hilarious when compared to the original but at least new readers will see there's more and maybe in the year 2055 i will publish them for fun

Frozen Pond with 156 at the end of the list, written for my friend @petitjams and taking place in a silly AU we made together (wen chao stays winning on here which is very funny)

i'm attributing the popularity of the first two to mostly being centered around super popular characters, because my later stuff is naturally better yet struggling haha

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

always unless they're like just emoji, because i like conversation! though i may also reply with a little heart hehe

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i wouldn't call it angstiest ending, it's bittersweet, but the threads that bind us is my top pick. and it also needs more readers so go read it. your hands and mine has a bit of an 'angsty' ending but only for song lan. xue yang had it coming :p 💖

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

excluding the two above, so far they all have a happy ending, or at least neutral??? i'd say Book Club, though, because that's the massive 'everybody lives!!' silly fixit fic

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope. i hope i didn't just jinx it. i get hate on art and through anon though! woo! (not anymore on here tho thank god)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do and i feel like it sucks so i almost always end up fading to black LMAO my actual explicit stuff remains private... it's like too embarrassing for me. i got judged for it as an 18 year old and 10 years later haven't gotten over it. i like bondage and bdsm though and that seems to crop up in private 😏

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i do on occasion! i love roleplaying them, but the only one i have out there is The Way To His Heart Is Through His Stomach (Oh God Please Don't Eat Me), which mixes mdzs and tgcf characters in a unique setting :3

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge, but i've had art stolen plenty so i wouldn't even be surprised

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a few have been translated into russian!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

NOT YET BUT IT'S IN THE CARDS

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

all time? jeez. somebody tell me why i always freeze up and go blank when asked these simple questions? it's like i forget who the fuck i am. i feel like i should also say songxiao? but they're relatively new so it doesn't seem correct. fuck it. my all time favorite ship is [DATA MISSING OR CORRUPTED-- PLEASE PROCEED TO NEXT QUESTION]

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

haha... (looks at my abandoned hlm fic with the seventh chapter halfway written) haha...

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'd definitely say dialog. it makes sense, since the stuff i'm most used to doing is drawing silly comics. i also like to ping-pong emotions around and feel like i'm pretty good at that too

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

using the same words over and over and feeling like i never write Enough, like everything is always light and never in depth. i don't like making scenes too heavy with padding but i also feel like i need to find a balance

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i'll do it only if it's a language i speak!!! this doesn't apply to peppering words like gege and stuff just for funsies. i think the best way to go about it is to just tell the audience what language they're speaking in that moment

19. First fandom you wrote for?

we're gonna have to go back to when i was 10 years old here lol... i think it was tokyo mew mew in terms of stuff i put online (oh god)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

it's hard to pick favorites, but i once again must say the threads that bind us in terms of work i'm most proud of.

i tag whoever sees it, plus @sugarapplebaby because ily

#thank you!#my fic #mdzs #i write fic but overall it doesnt really get read as much #so im always glad to advertise hehe thank you!!#i think people generally just want a lot of the same or like very specific ships so its really hard to break through #BUT I STAY SILLY! i love writing and i LOVE when people enjoy what i do #so thank you all

13 notes · View notes

yujinniw · 10 months

Text

MIDNIGHT RAIN — KTR | 03-perfect image

2:11 am, it was cold and rainy surprisingly in the summer. I felt everything crushing down on me. If it was work, family, scandals? It was just too much, I and lots of others are not machines, we cannot do everything perfectly like they want us to. But the only thing I can do is smile and act as if nothing has ever happened, Even if I try there will be so many shits that I don't want other's to handle because of me.

So here I am, finding it amusing how such a big tourist attraction could feel so empty for once. But damn FOR ONCE MAN thank you rain! It was nice taking all that fresh air in, feeling the warm breeze hitting my skin was not too fun but hey it is the summer, unless you live in the UK or something.

I was just minding my own business until, I saw this dude coming closer to where I was. His hair was messy, kinda looked like he just got up from a nightmare, Yikes. But I couldn't see his face, he was wearing a mask. '....masks of course, the people with the hottest hair always wear a mask.' I thought to myself 'How am I supposed to know if you're really hot or not..'

'Should I go talk to him?' 'No chae miyeon, privacy.' I slapped myself to reality. But I think it was kinda too loud considering how he suddenly turned his head my direction. 'great. JUST GREAT.' All those thoughts were gone as soon as I heard a tired voice saying; "Are you okay?" I tilted my head up to looked at him 'SHIT. what am I supposed to reply with. Yea yea I'm fine, no you looked like you fell down from heaven itself. okay.... why was that even an option.'

"Yea, just thought there was a mosquito." WOW such a great answer congratulations. He just nodded before sitting down beside me 'FUCK HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ACT MORE NORMAL NOW YOU'RE NEXT TO ME.' hold up. act I can act FOR FUCK SAKES.

"Why are you awake and up here so late." He asked me before I could... "Just needed some fresh air. what about you?" "Needed to clear my mind." same bitch, same. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?" He asked, which caught me off guard "Oh I do mind." WHAT THE HECK! NO NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!! "Oh... sorry then" he responded while scratching the nape of his neck. Miyeon Chae, This is the result of your action take responsibility

"Depends on what you're going to do with them," "Keep it to yourself? Sell it on the black market. I don't know." I retorted back. Should I tell him my real name? should I lie? Decision making should not be anywhere near me.. BUT back to reality, He chuckled at my words and responded with "Yes... I will sell it on the black market. Now give me your name." "Woww such a creep..." OMG WHAT IF HE IS A CREEP.

"No actually, do you mind if I get your name?" Right... my name... "Miyeon, Chae Miyeon" I said holding my hand out to his "As in the Actor? Or a normal person" Hah.. this bitch. " Don't know whatever you think I guess." He laugh while shaking my hand. "Kim Taerae."

If I'm being honest, His hand was huge. Would probably have me flying from one slap with that hand. But then I looked back to what he said was his name, Kim Taerae. I looked up to meet his covered face. Gorgeous eyes babes. But the hair, face shaped and hand. did match the description of the ZB1 Kim Taerae.

Eyes widened when I come back to my senses that this gorgeous looking dude right here, who still has my hand in his. Could actually be Kim Taerae Zerobaseone.. I took my hand away " I should probably get going..." "It was nice meeting you." I said quickly before running to my car. yes I drove here...

"I'm done for."

sypnosis : One of the many famous actress was spotted at a park holding hands with their boyfriend, which was rumored to be Chae Miyeon, and Kim Taerae of Zerobaseone.

a/n: Really feeling like writing today woke up at 4 am and decided yk what I'm going to write the whole of chapter 3😖 ANYWAYSSS THEY MET or did they ykyk😶

donate to the poor | masterlist | ahah..

tag-list: @sparklingsjy, @xinxinyy,@wtfhyuck

20 notes · View notes

amjustagirl · 2 years

Text

chapter 7: one step forward (a million steps back)

chapters: 7 / 15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans wc: 2.8k summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

Swapping the backdrop from the rural countryside to the bustling metropolis does not dampen your feelings for Miya Osamu in any way.

You’d always thought he was attractive with his strong chin, the sturdy sweep of his shoulders but now your gaze lingers on him more and more, appreciating the openness of his smile, the warmth of his eyes. His heart is too big to cram into his chest, and you like him all the more for it - the consideration he pays to his staff (and you), the gruff love he shows his family, the genuine care he gives to his guests. It scares you, how much you love - like him, craving for his attention, his friendship suddenly insufficient when you want more. Your name sounds beautiful when he says it, even though you’ve always hated it (a relic of your past), and you stand a little taller, smile a little wider when he’s anywhere near you.

“So, the boss huh.” Suzuki states with a motherly pat to your shoulders. “Finally.”

The rest of the staff seem to share her sentiment, nudging you forward whenever they see the opportunity to leave you and Osamu alone, elbowing you with grins whenever Osamu smiles at you, nodding approvingly whenever he offers to walk you home (or to the night shift) after late nights at the restaurant.

You’re a terrible liar so you just shrug helplessly, biting your bottom lip. “Not that I know what to do”, you admit.

Which is true. You’ve had crushes before - handsome boys who accompany their parents to your father’s sushi restaurant, classmates who were unattainable, out of reach but you’d put them on a pedestal, imagining how you’d enjoy being one half of a couple, holding hands, sharing smiles. But this is different. You’ve never had anyone you actually, truly, really like for who they are, and there’s so so much to like about Miya Osamu.

Suzuki’s expression turns sympathetic when you confess all of this to her, your voice small, unsure. “I’ll help you”, she promises. “The boss needs something more than just work in his life, and I bet he probably feels the same way about you. From the way he looks at you, at least.”

“You think so?” you ask, but she doesn’t bother giving you a response, sending out texts on her phone at machine gun speed, and the next thing you know, she’s roped in Kaiyo and the entire staff (who’s itching to get involved anyway) to aid in the mission of capturing the elusive heart of one Miya Osamu.

Step one - feed the chef.

Suzuki-san and Kaiyo unanimously pronounce that the way to Miya Osamu’s heart is through his stomach. A tired saying, but one that rings true for the chef-owner of Onigiri Miya.

“But what am I supposed to cook for him that he can’t already cook for himself?” you protest, though whatever you say falls on deaf ears.

You consider baking something, but your parents’ old house lacks a working oven, understandable since your parents (and yourself, nowadays) would only retreat home for rest. You consider buying him some upscale delicacy, some sort of expensive cake or mochi or sweet treat of sorts, but it seems needlessly expensive and it’s not like Osamu’s a food snob to begin with. Then you overhear Osamu complaining that he can’t find the time to travel to the Kobe fishmarket to check out what’s on offer this winter deep sea fishing season, and an idea forms in your head.

He doesn’t have the time, but you do.

So you call in favours from your father’s old business acquaintances, pop down into Kobe before dawn in long unworn wet market boots, returning back to Osaka with your bounty. You stare at the array of fresh seafood. Kani, a whole hairy crab, splayed old, pincers wriggling out at you in an indication it’s still alive. Pearly grey oysters, all unshucked. Yellowtail, the fish still gasping, Madai, the red seabream’s gills glistening in the light. A bagful of shrimp, each impossibly long, perfectly pink.

You’re not quite sure what to do with them, so you present them all in their box, packed with ice. Like a floral arrangement, a bouquet of seafood to your intended conquest.

He gapes silently, eyes wide as dinner plates, darting between the box and yourself. “Surprise”, you say needlessly, weakly.

“It’s too much”, he says at first, but thanks you with boyish enthusiasm, when you explain he’ll only let the food go to waste if he doesn’t take it from you. He throws an impromptu party with staff and family that night with the spoils from your gift, unabashedly asking if you’d show him the best way to prepare the fish. It’s gratifying to watch everyone ooh and aah as the course after course of decadent seafood emerges from the kitchen, more so when he slumps beside you, head down on the countertop in an obvious food coma at the end of the night.

“What’s the occasion for all of this?” he asks, almost lost to sleep.

It’s just three simple words, but you chicken out. Courage has never been your strongest suit. “To thank you for being my friend”, you say instead, which is kinda, sorta true.

“You never need to thank me for that”, he says, before laughing at himself, at the cheesiness of what he’s just said.

You think otherwise, but you just echo the cadence of his laugh.

(one step forwards, two steps back)

Step two - show him affection.

You’re instructed by Kaiyo and Suzuki-san to express your affection for him.

“Physically”, Kaiyo says, “since you seem incapable of doing so with words.”

You feel like telling her that you’ve grown up without the blueprint to showing human affection, especially romantic affection.

“Okay look”, she adds after a few beats of you staring goggle eyed at her. “Just follow what ‘Tsumu and I do, k? You can try hugging him when he walks you home - don’t look at me like that, as if I don’t know that he does, honestly - the two of you act like you’re in high school, but act on your feelings and maybe hold his hand too - “

“You don’t hug Atsumu”, you point out. “You smack him and poke him and tickle him, and occasionally exchange kisses.”

“That’s what passes for foreplay in his mind -”

You wince. “I did not need to know that.”

“But if you wanna kiss Osamu, hey, you do you, I’m a great believer in goin’ out there and taking life by its balls.”

“Baby, I’m sittin’ right here when you’re talkin’ about me and - please don’t take me by the balls”, Atsumu pleads, covering Shoma’s ears with large hands. “Sounds painful.”

Kaiyo’s grin is shark-like. Yet Atsumu just gazes at her like a lovelorn puppy. You…admire their marital bliss, but you probably should not take them as role models in lessons of physical affection. Perhaps you can try your best to channel the Kitas instead with their open affection and gentle care for each other.

So you brush past him in the restaurant when you pass him dishes, greet him with a side hug which he returns with a chuckle when he comes to your place to bring Kombu-chan yet another treat, ruffling his hair when he does his best at baby-talking your haughty cat. You lean into him, chasing the heat his body emits when you leave his shop to fetch some item that’s run out, returning with your shirt translucent, clinging and wet with rain.

“Shoulda made sure you went out with an umbrella”, he mutters, frowning as you shiver.

His frown deepens as you lose your balance and nearly topple backwards, mind fogging up as he rubs his hands together to generate even more heat before clasping yours between his, so careful and gentle almost as if he’s afraid you might shatter. “I’m okay”, you breathe, but that doesn’t seem to reassure him, because your goosebumps line your flesh, your teeth chattering.

“Time for you to go home”, he says flatly.

Suzuki-san gives you a conspiratorial grin when he takes your elbow to escort you home, his arm heavy on your shoulders. “Take care of her”, she calls after him. He doesn’t respond, but the determination in his stride indicates he fully intends to.

His closeness grounds you and knocks you off your feet at the same time. You don’t even realise that you’re at your front door until he extracts your spare key from beneath your floor mat, Kombu-chan peeping between the gate to investigate.

“Shower, now”, he orders and you obey without a fight.

When you emerge, hair towelled dry, skin damp and warm from steam, there’s a warm cup of ginger and honey on the table. Your rice cooker hums, a glistening, perfectly fried egg waiting for you to plop it in your mouth. Ceramic clinks in the metal sink, a pair of wooden chopsticks line your bowl. “Eat, and then sleep”, he says again, mouth pinched. “Don’t want you t’come down with a cold or somethin’ worse.”

Usually when he shows you any sort of kindness (which is almost too often, because Miya Osamu is the best man you know), you just thank him with varying degrees of politeness and awkwardness, unable to express how actually grateful you are that he’s found you worthy of being nice to, but today, after freezing in the winter’s first rainstorm and dragging yourself through puddles and mud, your reserve peels away.

“Won’t come down with a cold”, you murmur before winding your arms around Osamu, the man frozen as you pull him into a semblance of a hug.

You wonder a half-second too late if you’ve overstepped before he relaxes, shoulders carefully settling. You could too easily get used to this, learn to be addicted to this - the feeling of him in your arms, large and strong and sturdy, basking in the heat of his body like sitting cross legged before a fireplace. He smells a little like rain himself, earthy and damp and there’s a hint of sesame oil, fragrant and nutty.

Then he disentangles himself from you, hands under your arms so he can hold you carefully away from him. You shudder from the sudden loss of warmth, whining under your breath.

“You’re definitely gonna get sick tomorrow”, he says, brushing a large palm against your overheated forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bed, now.”

He keeps you at a polite distance, hovers by the threshold to your room as you settle into bed, only crossing it once to bring Kombu-chan in, dropping her onto your lap. “Goodnight”, he murmurs before leaving you behind in darkness, thunder rolling in the horizon.

You crawl on your knees, tugging the curtains open, letting the tiniest sliver of light into your room as you lie face-up on your bed. Count the cracks in your ceilings, even though you already know the answer. Kombu-chan ends up deserting you and you stay awake for hours, only dropping off to sleep when the rain clears and the moon peeks out behind clouds.

After that, you’re unable to find any reason to show Osamu any physical affection whatsoever. It’s as if he’s constructed a force field to keep you out, the hair on your arms rising, almost crackling when he skirts around you, as if - as if he’s wary of you.

Oh, you conclude. You overstepped.

You apologise the next opportunity you get, but Osamu scrunches his eyebrows together, as if he’s trying to decipher whether he should be confused or offended that you even brought it up. “Don’t be silly”, he waves you off. It’s not clear whether he means it’s truly fine, because he goes back to normal after a while, reaching out to ruffle your hair when you bump his elbow with yours, but you’re not sure what to believe so you just - you just respect the distance he’s put between you.

(one step forward, three steps back)

“You two are hopeless”, Kaiyo says crossly after zero progress is made on the chasing Miya Osamu front. “Maybe we should just lock you both in the store room until proximity and time makes you desperate enough to just spit out that you like him, it’s not rocket science, y’know -”

Atsumu just shakes his head, balancing Shoma on his lap.

“What!” she exclaims peevishly. “Maybe you could contribute some suggestions, since you and Osamu shared the same womb.”

“Just grab him and kiss him”, he chortles, dodging a swat from his wife. “Worked like a charm for me.”

You just look at him with distrust. “I think I’ll pass, thanks”, you demur politely.

Step three - date night, just him and you.

“Maybe you should just be direct and ask him out on a date”, Kaiyo suggests. Suzuki-san nods with approval, and you agree readily, because you’d been facing their ire for failing to tell Osamu your feelings which is far easier said than done, but neither are going to listen to you anyway. So you do, asking him out for dinner on Monday, the only day of the week he’s willing to take a break (enforced by me, Suzuki-san tells you smugly), and he accepts without question.

It’s a last ditch attempt, a final shot before you’ll throw in the towel, give him up completely.

“Did you specify it was a date?” Kaiyo asks, face-palming when you admit with a sheepish smile no.

“It should be obvious!” you protest, because why else would you ask him specifically out for dinner at a fancy restaurant booked out weeks in advance by couples, serving fine French food and good Italian wines, but Osamu proves you wrong.

First, it’s bad enough that he turns up fifteen minutes late, but he sticks out like a sore thumb in jeans and a t-shirt. Second, he looks around and wonders aloud about the coincidence of everyone around you sitting in pairs. Third, and most egregiously, the sin that Kaiyo will slap the back of his head for as punishment, to which he’ll just frown at her, arguing his innocence -

“D’you mind if a friend joins us tonight? He’s havin’ a tough time.”

He doesn’t need to look at you with puppy dog eyes, doesn’t need to pout because you’re weak, unable to refuse anything he asks of you.

“Sure”, you reply.

That’s how Suna Rintaro, middle blocker of the EJP Raijin and soon-to-be divorcee and single father of one, ends up at your table, an awkward trio in a room full of cooing couples. He sulks through appetisers, pronounces that romance is overrated when the couple next to you shows off their engagement ring to their thoroughly unimpressed waiter, and eyes you with contempt when Osamu slips off to the washroom.

“He’s not interested. You should take a hint, like the rest of the women clamouring to date him.”

You splutter into your glass of water, choking out coughs. “I’m not - we’re just - I mean -” He levels a stare at you through feline eyes, decidedly unconvinced.

“Yeah, right.” Sharp, concise.

Shame burns through your veins, spreading like quickfire. You regret all of this immediately, whispering your excuses to Osamu when he returns to the table, confused by your sudden haste to leave. The nip of the early winter chill only serves to inflame your regret, making you want to drown yourself into a rain filled puddle.

Kombu-chan noses about your ankles when you stumble home, a bedraggled, sad creature wearing the tatters of her ego, the dregs of her dignity. “At least one of us is happy”, you tell her when you feed her a treat.

She meows and steps all over you as you lie facedown on the floor.

Osamu turns up at the end of your shift when you fail to turn up at his shop again, armed with his usual bribe of onigiris and mochi. “Was Suna rude to you, that lil’ shit?” he asks without preamble, face contorting into something ugly, harsh beneath artificial fluorescent lights.

You lie through your teeth, murmuring a no as you stare at your feet. You don’t even dare to look up at him, not when you’re still smarting from being seen right through by a close friend of his.

“He said somethin’, didn’t he?” Osamu persists, sighing when you match his stubbornness, shaking your head to pretend otherwise.

Osamu’s too busy, too distracted to spend much time trying to draw out exactly what’s wrong, what’s ailing you (the restaurant’s renovations are almost complete, he tells you, and he’s preparing a soft launch for family and friends, you have to be there of course), so he just walks you home, patting your back and saying “don’t mind Rin, he’s a piece of shit right now cos’ life is kinda rough for him”.

“There’s nothing to mind, Osamu. Really, I’m fine”, you reply with a cheerfulness that’s decidedly forced.

“Really?”

Your stomach always burns when you lie. You pick up Kombu-chan, burying your face in her fur, willing your innards to stop tearing itself into shreds. “You don’t have to worry about me, ‘Samu.”

You’re lying again, but he doesn’t need to know the truth.

(one step forward, a million steps back)

a/n: oh 'samu. oh suna. oh, poor, poor reader. i put her through the wringer ><

#Haikyuu x reader #Hq x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x y/n #Haikyuu angst #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #osamu x you #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #miya atsumu #suna rintaro #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fluff #inarizaki #set fire to your heart

180 notes · View notes

mel-0n-earth · 21 days

Text

Update

To the small handful of people reading my Solavellan fic, Phantom:

First, I love every single one of you.

Second, the next chapter has been drafted for a long time (I actually wrote it over a year ago). The problem is, upon re-reading I realized it was far too long and a bit of a drag. So, I've been spending a lot of time cutting the fat and reworking some things so it will (hopefully) read better.

Third, it's the end of the semester here, and I'm swamped with grading (though nearly finished!)

Fourth, my partner and I are moving to a new city at the end of the month, and are also swamped with prep/packing (and not anywhere near finished).

Fifth, my cat was hospitalized yesterday for something we've been struggling to diagnose for a while. The good news is that he is stable now, has a diagnosis that will require lifelong but shockingly affordable treatment, and is generally in amazing hands. At this point, we're just making sure he doesn't have any other issues the doctors need to address before he's sent home. Still, he's a baby and I worry about him.

In short, I'm still working on Phantom, but am balancing a few other things as well. There's going to be some radio silence on my end while I wait for things to stabilize, but I wanted to give y'all an update so you'd know that the fic isn't abandoned, and I'm hoping to have the next installment posted soon.

5 notes · View notes

lostmykeysie · 1 year

Note

YASSSSS KEYSIE YASSSSS. You are fulfilling a need I didn’t know I had with that scene in the bathroom, cannot wait for the next chapter!

LET'S GO LESBIANS LET'S GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! when i said fastburn dorlene i meant FASTburn dorlene baby xxxxxxxx my girls are already fucking in the bathroom xxxxxx slags xxxxx

whilst we're here i am actually going to be cheeky and use this post to expand the tags SO

for two knights defence, my new wolfstar & dorlene fic (reggie is still a main character though lol love him and regus are still besties of COURSE) here is a brief expansion on the big three tags (minor character death, explicit sexual content, graphic depictions of violence):

Warnings

Graphic Depictions of Violence - The characters are all either part of the Order, the Death Eaters, or a vigilante group; they’re all fighting, and they’re all fighting each other. Their missions will be part of the main plot so we will see firsthand what those missions entail (violence!). - They have knives, wands, and some even have guns. And they absolutely use them, and sometimes they use them on each other. I don’t think the tag ‘morally grey character’ is wholly relevant here (though it probably is actually now I think about it given all the murder and stuff) but the approach to violence you typically see under this tag is definitely seen in this fic. These folks are stabbing people up and then sleeping like a baby at night okay - The main characters—Wolfstar especially—are not always on the same side, so they will fight each other, and they will hurt each other. However, the wolfstar romance is nowhere near slowburn, and Remus at least knows who Sirius works for from the beginning and therefore knows he’s not his real enemy, so it never gets to the point where they’re anywhere near killing each other. They’re both also insane so it gets to the point that violence is foreplay I’ll be honest - I will not be tagging specific violence CWs within the chapters because there will be varying levels of violence constantly throughout, however I do not anticipate it getting to gruesome horrifying levels or gore at any point so you’re fine on that front. If for some reason it does get a bit excessive I’ll flag that in the AN, but I doubt that will happen. Minor Character Death - Characters (plural) are going to die but none of them can be considered main characters—I want to make that absolutely clear—but that does not mean we won’t get to know them and sometimes even like them before they get killed off - All characters that die will be dying on screen; remember the graphic depictions of violence tag! Explicit Sexual Content - There will be explicit girl sex!!!!!! There will be explicit boy sex!!!!!!!! It won’t be every chapter but this fic is definitely smut heavy compared to other stuff I’ve written so gird your loins baby. - Both tagged relationships engage in debased slutty behaviour and we love that for them. We’re talking rough sex, mirror kinks, panty kinks, some absolutely filthy mouths, a bit of exhibitionism, possessiveness, aggressiveness, obsessiveness… I will flag the NSFW chapters in the AN at the beginning but I won't go any further than that in terms of a heads up so take heed.

#someone asked me a q #lovely wonderful anon #two knights defence #2kd #im not gonna lie folks #this is my fave fic so far and i've only written a prologue and a chapter lol #but i have planned this whole baby #and i am sooo excited to write it i am chomping at the bit #but i will finish TML first !!!!! only two chaps left!!!!!#the next chapter is jegulus btw but the last one is wolfstar #sorry to the jeggy haters #also i am soooo behind on everything as usual so give me a mo i'm sorry for being pants at communication #and everything else #anywayz luv u #kiss kiss kiss #what's your big three mine is sex violence and death

20 notes · View notes

asyastudieskorean · 5 months

Text

1.09.2024 — You can't hear it, but I’m sighing right now.🤦‍♀️

When the professor said we would have a chapter lecture and quiz every week, I assumed that meant 1 chapter per week, and I was like, okay great, we're doing more of the textbook and learning more per week than last quarter. This is what I am here for. With this assumption, I did the whole chapter last week and all the exercises and listening tasks. And I did find it odd when doing the quiz that only the first couple of pages were covered. Mind you, there's not really any context on how to approach these chapters or what pages/exercises we should specifically do. Each week, there's a lecture and quiz, that's it until midterm/final tests/projects start. There's virtually no homework or textbook checks so far, so who knows if other students are even doing the actual textbook work beyond reading it.

So, Tuesday, today, I went to look at the week’s lecture’s powerpoint, and it says this week covers pages 114-115… Are you serious now?? Each week we are covering 2, maybe 3, pages? And the lectures just repeat what can already be read from the textbook?

So, hold my triple shot, you’re saying I’ve done about 4 weeks of work by doing one chapter and now, besides the weekly quizzes that take 5-10 minutes, I have nothing new to learn? Bro. And let alone we only get new vocab biweekly, and this is usually 15 basic words.

I do not understand why the course is set to go so slow, I really don't. After Korean 1, we should all have the basic skills to learn new grammar at a faster pace. Man, if she didn’t have the upcoming weeks locked on Canvas, I could easily finish this course in 2 to3 weeks if it is always going to be this way.

It honestly feels like I paid 4 digits for this course for which a couple YouTube videos could have covered. I can work through the textbook pretty much on my own at this point, so I took this college-level course assuming there would be important additional learning that you can't get on your own with just a textbook.

I’m honestly getting really worried that I’m paying for such simple, slow-paced courses, and I won’t be anywhere near fluent by the end of the 2-year program that I am doing. Unfortunately, these Korean courses follow a progression each quarter, otherwise, I would ask how I could skip a class to the next level. I am nowhere near advanced; I am a basic beginner, but even still, the pace of this course is kind of ridiculous.

And you might be thinking, well, 에샤 씨, why don't you just learn by yourself and do more outside of the course? Well, homegirl, I am taking (and PAYING) for these courses because I thought they would give me a better learning environment and faster learning than on my own. The way I learn, and with my other personal and work priorities, I need the class environment, with check-ins, weekly assignments, quizzes, professor engagement -- you get it. I need these to stay motivated and to keep myself accountable to consistent, progressive learning. I can only hope it gets better as the course progresses.

#college student #korean language #studying #studyblr #language student #studying at home #language study #online student #student #korean

4 notes · View notes

cyber-cry-baby · 1 year

Text

Miasma pt. 5 "Improvement"

Caustic x fem reader Words: ~1000 Warnings: none A/N: a shorter chapter this time, I have been busy with work :c also, you really have to listen to "Alkaline" by Sleep Token, that song is officially a theme song for this fic lol it just fits perfectly for Caustic x reader <3

Previous chapter | Next chapter

You admired the cityscape in front of you from the edge of the rooftop terrace. Your hair was still damp from the shower, and you enjoyed sipping a cold soda from a glass bottle. The warm evening sun felt delightful.

You had just had a fun time with Octane and Mirage at the firing range. Emphasizing the words "fun time" because that's what it mostly was. You did some training, of course, but Octavio wanted to show off his cool tricks, so you ended up mostly fooling around. However, in the process, you also learned some real things like how to handle different weapons. Mainly snipers since you weren't as skilled in that area yet.

"Hi, you're Y/N, n'est-ce pas?" you heard a beautiful, bright voice behind you. You turned around and saw a kind-looking woman in front of you. She stood neatly, smiling at you, and you smiled back.

"Hello?" you greeted her.

"I just wanted to say hi since we haven't properly met yet", the woman said and extended her hand towards you. You politely shook it.

"I'm Natalie," she introduced herself and looked out into the distance. "Beautiful view, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," you smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"It's great to see how well you've adapted here and that us, young women, are well represented in the game”, Natalie giggled. She seemed genuinely cheerful and bubbly, and you couldn't help but join in the laughter.

"By the way, your workspace is right next to mine," Natalie said. "You can come to me anytime if you need any help." You nodded as she continued talking.

"You've created some amazing things, maybe I'll need your help in the future too!" Natalie laughed.

"I was actually thinking of exploring the workspace area a bit more", you said, straightening up. Natalie smiled widely.

"Let's go together. I was heading there too. Or more specifically, to the laboratory. Dr. Caustic needed my assistance with his computer. I'm not very good at it, but better than him."

Your expression brightened even more.

"I'm really good at that", you noted. Suddenly, a brilliant opportunity came to interact with Alexander. However, he didn't want you anywhere near the laboratory. But you had to come up with something. If you were genuinely helpful to him, maybe he wouldn't be so harsh towards you.

"Maybe you could help! Allons-y!" Natalie clapped her hands together. You two headed towards the workspaces. Didn't Natalie's presence bother Alexander, or why had he asked her to help him? Whatever the case, perhaps she was the key to approaching him.

You stepped out of the elevator and walked cautiously behind Natalie. You were slightly anxious about Alexander's reaction.

Why am I so afraid of him?

You shook off the uncertain thoughts from your mind. Now or never.

There was a buzzer at the laboratory door, and Natalie pressed the button.

"Hello, Dr. Caustic, it's me, Natalie, and-"

You vigorously shook your head and shushed her. Natalie looked at you questioningly like a small puppy. Luckily the door opened in the meantime.

"N-nothing, let's just go inside!" you muttered, and you both walked into the laboratory.

"Dr. Caustic... I promised to help with your computer, but I found someone who is a master with them!" Natalie exclaimed excitedly.

You swallowed, and your legs trembled with each step. Your heartbeat felt stronger, and your face grew warm. It wasn't exactly fear, but rather anticipation. You were nervous about seeing Alexander.

In a good way.

You entered the room and saw Alexander standing his back turned to you. He turned around when he heard your presence. And he didn't look very pleased. But not very angry either.

"I thought I could help when I heard you were having problems. And that it could make up for my foolishness, and m-maybe you could forgive me..." you stammered.

Alexander stood with his arms crossed, his sleeves rolled up, and a strand of hair hanging on his face. He raised his hand to fix his hair and sighed. Still no angry reaction.

Alexander motioned you towards the computer. He wasn't angry at all. Maybe he was actually glad to get some help. You sat down at the computer as if commanded and immediately realized what the issue was. You had always been good with all kinds of technology. You started typing frantically, and a series of letters and numbers appeared on the screen. Silence filled the room, only the sound of typing echoed around. Alexander sipped his coffee, and Natalie watched in awe, her eyes gleaming with admiration for your skilled work.

Minutes ticked by. Finally, you were done.

"A typical problem. Don't worry, all the data is safe", you began describing the situation as it resolved. You showed Alexander what the issue was, and he walked closer to stand behind you, silently listening. You felt his tall figure behind your back, and his breath tickled your skin. He smelled good.

"Very well, thank you", he stated. You stood up and stepped away from the computer, muttering a response.

"Isn't she amazing!" Natalie cheered, and Alexander grunted in response.

"If you don't mind, I'll get back to work now", he said, and Natalie was already heading out, waving goodbye. However, you stayed by the door.

"If something similar happens, you can call me for help", you said, cautiously looking into his eyes. He looked back at you and suddenly you felt butterflies in your stomach. You bit your lip, feeling the blood rush to your face again. The moment you spent at the doorway felt like an eternity. Alexander wasn't cold towards you anymore. At least for now. What had changed? You slipped out before getting an answer. You didn't want this moment to shatter.

Progress had been made.

#alexander nox x reader #apex legends #alexander nox #apex caustic #apex fanfic #caustic x reader #apex legends fanfiction #fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

babyiamperfectforyou · 2 years

Text

IT’S YOU

Chapter 2

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: Coarse language

Word count: 1.5 k

A/n: Here's part two, it's a little shorter than the previous part, but we might post another chapter sometime this week. Happy reading.

Xoxo,

G and M

Previous part l Next part

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

"I don't think he would do something to hurt you on purpose", said Jenna.

"Why would you say that, Jenna?Have you ever seen him behaving in a civil manner when he's anywhere near me? I don't even know what I did to make him mad at me. I even thought he was pretty tolerable "

" And by tolerable, you mean dateable?" Jenna mocked.

"Fuck you! I hate him with every fiber of my being…" Y/N glared at her.

"Shoreeee..." Jenna trailed off.

"Shut up!!! Jenna… you know I'd never ever ……"

"Y/N, the meeting is about to start.The boss has requested your presence. " Gabriella Knight's voice cut through her ranting. Gabriella was a new joinee who worked under her. There were two more new employees, Fabiola Georgie and Aria Bennett, but they were hired to work under Harry.

"Be right there, thanks, Gabriella", she said.

"Come on, the meeting's about to start, we'll be late. I'll be right back." She told Jenna and walked towards her cabin.

When Y/N came out of her cabin with her laptop and notes for presenting her proposal, she saw Gabriella , Fabiola and Aria, talking and giggling together. When she followed their line of sight, she saw Harry walking towards them with a wide grin. He looked at Y/N and winked, walking towards them. "Hey ladies, had a good weekend?"

They were gawking at him. She glared at him and walked towards Jenna.

"They are literally eye-fucking him. And who does he think he is, flirting with them like that?, " Y/N was fuming.

"Let them flirt with him, what's it to you? Unless…." Jenna laughed.

" Right. I don't care. What's it to me anyway? Come let's go, the meeting."

—-------------------------

" In conclusion, the project proposed by Ms. Y/L/N cannot be completed within the timeline given by her. So I ask you to kindly reconsider the proposal." Harry articulated.

"But, Mr. Tomas, you don't have to change the whole proposal. I worked so hard for it . One could actually complete it by the deadline if they were to work hard, unlike someone who makes use of all his free time flirting with women." She deadpanned.

" Mr. Tomas, I don't think my love life concerns how I do my work. Now does it, Ms. Y/L/N? " Harry was irritated.

" Neither does mine, what gives you the idea that you can meddle in my life, Mr. Styles?" He was being a jerk and she wasn't having it.

"Hey, hey, hey, you two… Take it easy…" Steffin interrupted, laughing; he seemed to be enjoying the situation. He was wearing a black suit and a sage green button down underneath.He was not too tall, with broad shoulders .He had a stubbly face, with chubby cheeks.He was healthy, though a bit on the heavier side.His hair was neatly trimmed.

Steffin had inherited the firm from his father, who is now leading a peaceful, retired life in a Lakeview penthouse in the suburbs.

Steffin, even though he got the company from his dad, worked so hard and made the company as it is now.

Steffin and Harry were good friends. Though they met each other after Harry joined the firm, they became quite close in a short time. Harry’s ideas and hard work were an asset to the company, and Steffin liked having him around.

Almost everyone knew that whenever Y/N and Harry were in close proximity, there was a chance of an explosion. To be honest, everyone enjoyed it. But someone had to interrupt whenever it became too much. When Steffin intervened, Harry told him,

“I am always ready to straighten it out. Ms. Y/N is the one acting like a crybaby now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, she was furious at his audacity. A crybaby?

What was his problem? She actually felt a bit hurt by his words.

No, she couldn't be. Why would she be hurt by his words? He was an obnoxious jerk who was hellbent on making her life miserable. She was never the one to give up, so she retorted,

“ Me being a crybaby or whatever it was that you said, is none of your concern, Mr. Styles. I still believe that one can accomplish the task within the deadline if they work sincerely.”

“Oh! So now you're accusing me of being insincere? What the hell is wrong with you Y/N?” Harry was annoyed.

Before the argument could go any further, Steffin interfered again.

“Enough. You are working in this company. You need to act professional. Now, I am not saying that you're unprofessional or anything. In fact, you both are the best employees this company has got and I would like you to keep it that way.

“ We are really sorry, Mr. Tomas. We’ll work this out, right, Y/N?” Harry quickly apologized.

Y/N was in awe to see Harry handle the situation well. He even apologized on her behalf. This can't be true. Harry fucking Styles would never, ever, ever apologize. Her trail of thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Harry extended his hand.

“Right, Y/N?”

Y/N was so busy ogling at him that she didn't hear a single word, so she just shook his hand. The mere contact was enough for her heart to skip a beat. A jolt of electricity passed through her and she felt like she was on fire.The touch of his rings sent a shiver down her spine. She had to try really hard to keep herself together. She nodded, agreeing to whatever it was that he just said.

“Okay then. It's decided.” Steffin was almost relieved.

Y/N was confused. She knew that it was her own fault for not listening to the conversation. She just gawked at Harry like those women. Why did he have to look so handsome? No, handsome is not the right word. Hot? What! Did she just confirm that he's hot? What is happening to her?

“Ms. Y/L/N, are you listening?” Steffin’s voice woke her up from her trance.

“Yeah… Yes sir, I'm sorry I was thinking about an alternate proposal which can nullify any loss of our money and labor.” She had to make something up quickly.

“That's impressive Ms. Y/L/N, SO, you both will be working extra hours from today.” Steffin gave her a smile.

“What! Both?”She was confused.

Steffin gave her a nod and started talking about the next meeting with The Henry Anderson Group . They were coming to the office to see the work and Steffin had to impress them so that the company could collaborate with theirs on a new project. It was a dream venture.

Y/N sat down. Harry might be hot, but that doesn't make him any less of a jerk.

“If you did not like working with me, why did you agree to it, sweetheart?”

Harry whispered in her ear. Good Lord, his deep voice was driving her crazy. How would it be to hear him talking in this voice while….Y/N , get yourself together, she told herself.

“That was entirely your fault, you just confused me with your”

“Charm?” He asked.

“Dumbness”, She said and did not spare him a glance. She could see those women trying to get his attention by batting their eyes at him. She didn't like it at all. Maybe she was jealous, after all. He did not look at them though. He was either oblivious to it or did not care about them.

The day could not get any worse for Y/N. She had a pounding headache. Might be the vodka, she thought.She just wanted the meeting to end. Harry took the spotlight again after Steffin made his speech. She was disgusted by the way those women were drinking up his words. Even Helena, who was supposed to be the girlfriend or whatever, of the CEO of Tomas and Sons, was drooling over him.Before concluding the speech, she felt his eyes flickering over to her and lingering there for a split second more. For some reason, the way he looked at her made her really nervous. It was kinda intimidating, but she liked it. He suddenly broke the eye contact and thanked everyone for listening.

At last, she thought.

The team from The Henry Anderson company, led by their CEO, had come to the office when they had their lunch break. She felt the headache taking over. In an attempt to somehow get rid of it, she went to the cafeteria to get a coffee. When she passed the restroom, she went in, to wash her face. The cold water seemed to do the trick. She was about to step out of the washroom when she felt a hand gripping her wrist. She was petrified and felt the blood draining from her body. Her legs went numb and her face turned pale. She turned around to see that the hand that gripped her belonged to…

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

Feedback is appreciated ☺️❤️

Thank you 💘

Masterlist

Please let us know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

Taglist : @mendesblurb

68 notes · View notes