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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s Personal Route Chapter 1-2: Candle-Lit Game (烛光博弈) Translation

“So this is how he, who I've always been following, is truly like?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

Not long later, Evan's car stopped in front of a quiet victorian-style townhouse amidst a noisy neighbourhood.

An impeccably dressed waiter steps up politely to help us open the doors of the car.

I followed after him as we proceeded along a gravel path surrounded by rose bushes.

I looked at the gap between the rocks of the gravel path and back to my high heels again, awkwardly slowing down as I went.

This was when Evan, who had been walking alongside me, came to a stop. He crooked his elbow in my direction, offering it for me to take.

Evan: The path here is hard to tread.

Taking one cautionary glance at the winding road before me, I hesitated for a moment before linking my arm with his.

Perhaps it was because of how stiffly I was moving, for the sides of Evan’s lips quirked upwards. He slightly inclined his head, glancing at me.

Evan: Why? Are you not used to it?

I was speechless for a while as I attempted to formulate an answer that wouldn’t immediately out me.

As if reading my mind, he spoke once more, his voice tinged with faint amusement.

Evan: I'm talking about the dinner party.

MC: Oh, the dinner party… Honestly, it's a little out of my league.

MC: Can I ask who's going to be attending?

Evan: One is a senior I'm familiar with, and another, is something I think you'll know.

MC: Someone I know?

I tried to think of who it might be; alas, coming up with nothing.

Evan: I remember you once saying that you fancied the perfume brand that was under Zeal.

Evan: If so, then do you know about the founder, Zee?

MC: Oh! I saw his post this afternoon. I think he’s in Guangqi City now.

MC: Wait a minute! Don't tell me—

I gave Evan an incredulous look, only to see him nod with a faint smile playing on his lips.

Evan: Yes. The senior that I happen to be close to is also coincidentally a close friend of Mr. Zee’s.

Evan: Today’s dinner party’s to welcome him.

Evan spoke lightly of it, but I couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Today’s dinner party is way more important than I thought! It might even affect the cooperation between both companies!

My heart unwittingly raced at the thought, and I’d subconsciously tightened my grip on his arm.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The waiter pulled the doors open for us when we reached the entrance, and a middle-aged man immediately came up to greet us both.

??: It's been a long time, young Lu.

Evan: Sorry to keep you waiting, Uncle Pan.

Mr. Pan: No need to be so polite. I've only just arrived as well.

Mr. Pan: Let's put all of that aside for now. Shouldn't you first introduce your lady friend here?

I suddenly realized that I’ve been clinging onto his arm ever since entering the room, quickly letting go of it.

Evan merely went along with me and relaxed the arm that he’d held up for me. He nodded at Uncle Pan and faced him with a light smile.

Evan: This is (Y/n), a very talented Fashion Designer of my Company's.

Evan: (Y/n), this is Uncle Pan, a renowned businessman in Guangqi's business world, and also a senior of mine that I greatly respect.

I hurriedly extended a hand to Uncle Pan, who'd come to greet us.

MC: Hello, Uncle Pan…

Mr. Pan: Haha, no need to be so polite, Miss (Y/n). The food served in this restaurant is something that you cannot miss out on! Do be sure to eat lots!

MC: Will do! Thank you!

Mr. Pan: Take (Y/n) inside first, young Lu.

Evan: Alright.

We both bowed our heads slightly at him, expressing our gratitude. The waiter immediately came up, leading us to the room on the second floor.

All that could be heard was our footsteps, echoing in the elegant hallway.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Not long after we’d seated ourselves, Uncle Pan entered the room followed by another middle-aged man.

I could recognize him at a glance. That man was none other than Zee.

Time did not dull his edge. In fact, it merely gave him a couple of notches of calmness. His sharp eyes openly swept across everyone present without the slightest bit of hesitation. I don’t know if it was just me, but I felt as if something had flashed in his eyes when his line of sight fell on me.

After Uncle Pan had finished with his brief introductions, Evan leaned forwards, extending a hand out to Zee.

Evan: It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zee.

Zee raised his eyebrows and contemplated him for a good long while before slowly reaching out to shake his hand.

Zee: Warson's CEO? Pleasure's mine.

After exchanging greetings, Uncle Pan smiled as he patted both of their shoulders, gesturing for everyone to take a seat at the table.

Evan and I were seated at one side, while Zee and Uncle Pan were on the other.

The waiter began to serve us the dishes in an orderly manner.

For a while, the only thing that could be heard was the soft thuds of a leather shoe against the low pile carpet, accompanied by the occasional clink of tableware.

Evan: I've long since heard that you're an avid collector of antiques, Mr. Zee. So, I've prepared a gift to commemorate our first meeting.

The words had only left his lips when two men dressed impeccably in suit and gloves stepped up with a scroll, unravelling it for everyone to view.

It was an ancient painting. The paper had already yellowed, but the picture depicted on it was complete and clear, boasting vibrant colours, its inscription and seal as clear as the day and distinguishable.

Although I’d often visited the museum as a kid, it was the ancient outfits and accessories that had piqued my interest. Hence, my limited understanding when it came to calligraphy and paintings. I could only tell that this was a work that originated from the Qing Dynasty, which had used the lighting styles, shading styles, and the perspective of many western artworks as reference.

The sides of Zee’s mouth curved slightly upwards, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight.

Zee: It truly is a treasure of invaluable rarity.

Zee: Looks like you really do know your stuff, Mr. Lu.

Evan: Can’t say I do, myself; but, I’ve often heard Uncle Pan talk about your passion when it comes to these things.

Mr. Pan: Young Lu here’s very considerate. He remembers everything I tell him!

Mr. Pan: You too. Stop evading and take it already!

Zee: If my old pal insists; then I shall.

Zee: Still, it wouldn’t look all that good for me to take something without giving something else in return.

Zee: I’ve recently found an interesting little gadget. You can have it as a return gift if it interests you.

Saying so, Zee snapped his fingers with a smirk.

In a snap of a finger, a man behind him brought forth an intricately carved jewellery box made out of lacquered wood, placing it before us.

The inside of the red box was padded with fine silk, and lying above it was an exquisite gold hairpin.

MC: This! Isn't this Wanli’s Gold Hairpin!?

Then, all gazes turned to me. I flushed with embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, that was inappropriate of me….

Zee turned to look at me in rapt interest, with something inexplicable simmering behind his smile.

Zee: As expected of you, Mr. Lu. Even your female companion’s so learned and talented. You have a keen eye, Miss (Y/n).

Zee: I wonder just how much you know about this gold hairpin? How about you tell us more about it?

He'd already motioned towards the man in a suit, not waiting for me to reply. The box was then placed before me.

The gold and reds perfectly complemented each other, traversing through hundreds of years to now stand before my eyes. I could acutely feel the complexity and magnificence of this gold hairpin.

However, tonight was not a night of antique appreciation. Every act, every action of mine might contribute to whether or not the cooperation between the two companies will come to pass in the future…

I subconsciously turned to Evan. He smiled faintly, nodding his head in what seemed like encouragement.

The nervousness I felt instantaneously dispersed somewhat. I requested a set of gloves from the suited man, putting them on before carefully cracking the gold hairpin in my palm.

MC: Well… if you’ll pardon my inadequacy.

MC: Judging from the appearance and the workmanship, this filigree dragon pattern inlaid with the jewellery should have been made in the Ming Dynasty, during Wanli's reign.

MC: The gold and silver accessories during that time were richly patterned and intricately pieced together. They're often made through carving methods like this, alongside hollowing methods.

MC: I've once seen a similar gold kissing prochilodus hairpin with a self-defence mechanism.

MC: It had a silver needle hidden in a hollow compartment at the end, which can be released when required.

MC: I think this one’s the same as well.

Saying so, I tried to recall how the mechanism worked and where it was located from a book I’d seen in the past. Sure enough, I managed to find a catch at the very tip of the dragon’s tail.

MC: Maybe down here?

MC: The material used on this particular part is different from what the rest of the hairpin is made of, which means that this is most likely the place where the trigger’s hidden.

Zee: Oh? Then how about you show us, Miss (Y/n)?

MC: But this is just a hypothesis of mine, and this gold hairpin is way too valuable to be poking around with…

Zee: No matter. All hypotheses require to be tested. Besides, you’ve intrigued me.

MC: I’ll… I’ll try then.

Under everyone’s watchful gazes, I focused all my concentration on the gold hairpin in my hand as I gave it a thorough check through.

MC: There’s a small metal latch to the left of the ruby at the bottom. That should be the trigger!

Hearing that, Zee merely raised his eyebrows, as if awaiting my next move.

Is he… waiting for me to trigger it?

I was nervous because I didn't know whether it'd really make a silver needle slide out; so much that my back was covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. I took in a deep breath, trying my damndest to curb the tremor in my hand as I reached out towards that one particular ruby.

Just as I was about to touch the trigger, a hand placed itself atop my wrist, holding me back.

Evan: Allow me.

I could acutely feel his slightly cooler body temperature even through the gloves I wore.

Having said that, he too, requested a set of gloves before taking the gold hairpin from my grasp.

Evan: Here?

MC: Yeah…

Evan carefully angled the end of the hairpin so that it faced the inside of the jewellery box before gently pressing on the mechanism's trigger…

All we heard was a slight swoosh as a silver needle revealed itself against the silk cushions that padded the box under everyone's watchful gazes.

MC: !

I drew in a long, deep breath, shooting Evan a grateful look, which he returned with a smile.

He placed the gold hairpin back into the jewellery box before turning back to Zee.

Evan: Your return gift certainly does have exquisite workmanship, Mr. Zee. Thank you, I love it.

Hearing what Evan said, Zee, who had been leaning back into his chair with his eyes closed, suddenly perked up and leaned forwards with the sides of his mouth raised.

Zee: Why, don’t give me all the credit here. If Miss (Y/n) hadn’t found the mechanism, I wouldn’t have ever known that this little thing had a catch to it.

Zee: Looks like I should talk to her more, given the chance. I believe that we share a lot of common interests.

Zee: How about… we get Mr. Lu to specially authorize you to be my assistant during my stay here in Guangqi City?

Zee: If so, then we'll have more opportunities to talk and work together with each other.

Zee raised the goblet in his hand, gesturing at me.

For a while, I couldn't find a way to refuse him as I subconsciously raised my wineglass along with him, preparing to take a sip out of it.

Suddenly, Evan's hand cane upon mine, removing the glass from my grasp.

Evan: Thank you for your appreciation.

Evan: Although… she's a brilliant Designer of ours, so she has her responsibilities as well as her work arrangements.

Evan: If there is a need, I can always elect someone better and much more suited to be your assistant.

Evan's curvy eyes still held a smile within them, yet what came out from his mouth was an undeniable refusal towards Zee's request.

The red wine swirled within the glass as two glasses clinked together with a crisp and clear sound.

I could faintly see a tinge of dark red mixed into the bottom of his eyes. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the candlelight, or perhaps of the reflection from the dark red wine within the glass...

Zee glanced at me, unfazed. His fingers slowly trailed along the rim of his cup. His smile returned to his face after a moment of silence.

Zee: I’ll have to trouble you then.

Evan: Not at all.

Zee: I'm not trying to make things hard for anyone here, but who knows, we might have another chance to work together in the future.

Zee: All beauty in this world requires time to ferment and brew like fine wine, and I'm not against waiting.

Evan nodded, smiling humbly at him. However, the edges of his eyes, slightly curved upwards in a smile, held a faint, yet dangerously sharp glint to them.

Evan: How about we add a little value into your time of wait instead of wasting the time that passes doing nothing?

Evan: I’ve heard that Zeal is expanding into the global market as of late. I do have a suggestion if you’re interested…

Zee narrowed his eyes into a pensive smile. There was a sly scheming glint in his long and narrow eyes as he did the math

Zee: You’ve really done your homework, Mr. Lu. Do share with the class.

He leaned forward, peaking with interest. A rush of nervousness hits me, but just as we were about to enter the main topic...

A vibrating sound suddenly sounded. Zee held up his phone, glancing at it, before turning back to us with a smile.

Zee: I’ll go pick this call up. You don’t mind, do you?

Uncle Pan responded in the affirmative, and I hurriedly followed suit, shaking my head together with Evan.

Zee pushed the door open and left. I didn’t know if it was because my nerves had been too highly strung in nervousness earlier, or if it was due to the temperatures running higher within the dining room, but I suddenly felt a bout of dizziness hit me.

Should I take this chance to go outside for some fresh air?

❖ Choice A: Do nothing

I looked out at the rustling leaves outside the window, swaying in the wind, slightly hesitant.

Evan: Want to go out and stretch your legs?

Evan’s voice suddenly sounded by my ear, making me turn and look up.

He was always like this, easily seeing through my thoughts, yet remaining a comfortable distance away as he asks for my opinion.

MC: Yeah… I feel a little cooped up in here.

Hearing this, Uncle Pan only smiled.

Mr. Pan: Take her out for a walk then, young Lu. The scenery outside is beautiful, if I must say so myself.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After thanking Uncle Pan, Evan led me out to the veranda.

The white sheer curtain fluttered along with the wind with the soft moonlight dancing quietly on top of it. Everything was calm and serene.

The air was filled with the faint fragrance of flowers. I stretched my neck, peering down. There was a large bed of roses blooming in the gardens down below.

I braced both hands on the railing, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

Evan: Feel better?

MC: Much better!

Evan smiled gently, but it soon turned into one of concern.

Evan: I can send you back first if you're uncomfortable with the dinner party.

MC: ...Did I cause trouble for you?

He shakes his head, gently stroking the top of my head.

Evan: No. You've done brilliantly.

Evan: It's just… I don't wish to see you push yourself, even if it's only out of your concern for me.

MC: Right…

The pent-up frustration in my head seemingly subsided upon hearing his words.

What’s there for me to worry about when I have him by my side?

I lowered my hands from the railings and turned towards the direction of the dining room.

MC: But, I think I'll accompany you till the end of this dinner party.

Evan was stunned for a while before he smiled and offered me his arm.

This time, I took his arm without hesitation as we headed further down the corridor side-by-side.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Zee had already returned to the dining room by the time we got back.

Evan and Zee both continued their precious discussion about working together and the dinner party soon ended smoothly without a hitch.

☆ NORMAL END: Fading Exit ☆ "Next time, keep up and stay sharp!"

❖ Choice B: Stay in the private dining room

Although Zee has left, he'll probably be back shortly. The first half of the dinner party's over, so I just have to pull through for a while more.

I breathed a light sigh as I tucked the loose strands of hair back behind my ear, trying to relax.

Noticing this, Evan inclined his head.

Evan: Relax. It's fine.

MC: ...Okay.

The tense atmosphere within the dining room lightened up with Uncle Pan's warm hospitality, and Zee soon returned.

The waiter continued serving the next set of dishes. One exquisite dish after another was slowly placed before me, and they all tasted pleasantly divine.

In the end, Zee never once broached the topic of an assistant again.

The night grew on as we walked out of the victorian-style townhouse. The waiter already had our car prepared and waiting for us.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Upon reaching my apartment building, Evan got out of the car, holding the door open for me. He stood under the streetlights, looking at me.

Evan: Rest earlier today.

After making my way upstairs, I leaned out of the window and waved as I watched his car disappear around the corner of the road.

My phone vibrated not long after the car disappeared from my field of vision.

Picking it up, I saw that it was a message from Evan.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan (SMS): Good night, sweet dreams.

I held my phone, smiling as I inputted the same words into it.

MC (SMS): Good night, Evan...

☆ NORMAL END: Bystander ☆ "Sometimes, opportunities lie beyond the light at the end of the tunnel through the cracks of the willow's shade…"

❖ Choice C: Head out to the veranda and get some air

I took the chance and excused myself from the room, coming out to the veranda in hopes of easing my nerves.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The night breeze up at the veranda was cooling. It blew off the heat that had been created from my restlessness and felt utterly refreshing.

After taking in a couple of deep breaths, I patted my face and prepared to go back inside. Much to my surprise, I turned around only to be met face-to-face by none other than Zee himself.

Zee: Miss (Y/n), what a coincidence to see you here.

He smiled as he strolled up to me. I subconsciously took a step backwards. Noticing this, Zee's smile widened.

Zee: I do hope you weren’t bothered by the incident earlier. Is that why you’re purposely trying to avoid me, Miss (Y/n)?

I hurriedly shook my head, slightly raising my head to meet his gaze.

MC: Surely, you must be joking, Mr. Zee. I just came out for some air and was just about to head back in.

Zee had a playful glint in his eyes. He lifted his hand to his chin, suddenly moving forwards to block me off.

Zee: Why such a hurry? Care to accompany me for a walk?

MC: But Uncle Pan and Mr. Lu are still waiting for us back inside…

Before I could finish, Zee purposely moved even closer, his eyes narrowed into a close eyed smile.

Zee: Looks like you trust Mr. Lu a great lot, Miss (Y/n). I wonder… Just how much do you know about his past?

MC: What are you implying, Mr. Zee?

Zee: There's no need for you to be afraid, Miss (Y/n). The more approachable a person, the higher the chance that they're hiding another side of them.

Zee: They do say that "Someone of talent is free to choose their own master". And it seems like you are completely unaware of Evan's past.

Zee: And with someone as talented as you, Miss (Y/n)... I cannot bear to leave you in the dark.

He presumptuously sized me up in such a smarmy manner that it was unsettlingly uncomfortable.

I tried to bypass him and head in the direction of the dining room, but he'd seen through me and moved his body to block off my escape.

A sort of unease that stemmed from being forced to do something welled up on me. I wanted to flee, yet I didn't dare to refuse him outright.

What should I do now?

Just as I was trapped between a wall and a hard place, I heard a familiar set of footsteps sound from the other end of the hallway.

Raising my head, I saw a reassuring figure headed straight for us.

Evan!

He walked straight up to us, reaching out to place his hand around my shoulders before pulling me back to his side with a little force.

I raised my head, looking up at him. Those eyes of his, usually as warm and gentle as jade, were now slightly dark. There was an unknown emotion flickering within the bottom of his eyes that I couldn't make out.

Evan: So this was where you were, Mr. Zee.

The corners of Zee's lips slowly upturned into a smile, although that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were clearly glinting in displeasure.

Zee: Mr. Lu. I only wanted to have a nice chat with her, so what is the meaning of this?

Zee: I know that she's someone close to you, but you can't go making all the decisions for her like that.

Zee: Actually, she has just agreed to become my special assistant during my stay here at Guangqi City. What!?

Zee had effortlessly told a lie, with not a trace of it to be seen on his face. He raises his eyebrow and turns to look at me.

I steeled myself, forcing a polite smile onto my face.

MC: Surely you must be joking, Mr. Zee. Antiques and managing daily schedules are not things that I specialize in, so there's no way I can ever become an assistant of yours...

Zee's countenance darkens upon hearing this. His eyes landed on me as he seemingly contemplates something.

I don't know whether it was because I was too nervous, but I could feel my shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Evan calmly drew me closer to him, the amiable smile remaining ever-present on his face.

Evan: If you require an assistant, then I shall personally arrange one for you.

Evan: It is merely a matter of picking out the right candidate for the job. However, please do give me some time to make a good selection for your needs.

Looking at the expression Evan had on his face, Zee suddenly lets out a loud laugh.

Zee: Hahaha. Alright. Beautiful women are one a plenty in this world, and it looks like you're not willing to forsake this treasured one of yours.

The smile was still on Evan's face, but this time, he'd slightly narrowed his eyes.

Evan: Now, you're mistaken, Mr. Zee. (Y/n) doesn't belong to anyone at all, so any talk of "forsaking" will never come to pass.

Evan: Uncle Pan is still waiting for us inside the dining room. We shouldn't keep him waiting.

Not another peep came from Zee as he turned and walked back to the dining room in large strides.

It was only when he'd completely disappeared from our view that Evan let go of me and faced me with a thoroughly concerned look.

Evan: You okay, (Y/n)?

I shook my head. My heart was still wildly pounding.

Evan: I apologize for making you face that sort of predicament alone.

Evan: It won't happen again. You have my word.

The panic in my heart gradually subsided. I shut my eyes tight and fought against the stuffiness of my nose as I tried not to cry.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

Evan's expression gradually grew softer. He raised his hand, gently patting my back.

Evan: Don't worry. We're the only ones here now.

Evan: Enjoy the wind a little more with me, then we can head back in together.

MC: Okay...

I knew, deep down. He wasn't here to enjoy the wind at all, but rather, he'd used it as an excuse to allow me, in all my embarrassing glory, some time to calm myself down.

The strength behind the hand on my back brought about a comforting warmth, settling my taut nerves.

The moonlight was akin to water, shrouding us within its silvery embrace.

❖☆————— ⊹ Oblique Curtains of the Night⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1: Unexpected Request) ⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 1-3: Strike in the Dark )

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #倾斜夜幕 #Oblique Curtains of the Night

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wylanvnneck · 3 years

Text

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

Part 2

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“Lil, It’s 7.15 and I still need to decide on a dress, help!”

The ever helpful Liliver is currently perched on her bed, legs crossed and unruffled in stark contrast to Jude’s frantic rummaging of her sparse closet. She comes across a sparkly orange sequin dress that she holds up for her friend’s inspection.

“Honey. You’d look like a broken disco ball.”

“The girl at Saks said sequins were in.”

“She lied.”

Ugh. Damn Greenbriar for his stupid bets and his stupid dinners and his stupid brain which occasionally stumbled upon solutions. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow.

She’s contemplating over whether to excuse herself for the night by pretending to have an infectious disease which requires keeping all other humans at a distance of five feet, when the doorbell to her apartment rings.

“Lil, would you mind answering the door for me please?” she asks, conscious of the fact that she was dressed in only her underwear.

“Sure, but when I come back you’d better not be wearing that ghastly hot pink dress I saw in there,” her friend calls as she unravels herself from the cozy mattress and leaves the room.

Foiled again. Jude’s just about out of options and the only thing that she can fathom being worse than having to be Cardan’s fake girlfriend for a night, was having to do so while being completely underdressed and out of place in a roomful of his father’s closest business associates.

“There was a package delivered to your doorstep,” Lil says as she re-enters the room, carrying a white parcel in her hands.

“A package? But I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Open it, maybe there’s a note,” she hands it over. The detective inside of Jude is wary, but she’s too curious to not open it so she gently rips open the package’s wrapping to reveal a large square box tied with a silver ribbon and tag attached to it. ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ are the only words written on it. She knows immediately who it’s from and she feels an answering surge of anger along with an emotion that isn’t easy to decipher.

“I knew he was arrogant, but this-” She roughly unties the ribbon and tears open the lid and inside is the softest folded up material that she’s ever seen. Gently, she takes it out and it unfolds, turning into a simple but gorgeous black cocktail dress with an A-line skirt and off the shoulder sleeves, the picture of elegance.

Lil’s silver eyes are wide when she lets out a low whistle, “Damn.”

Jude is speechless.

“Wow.” Cardan’s voice sounds slightly higher pitched than usual before he clears his throat, standing just outside Jude’s doorway. “You clean up nice, detective.”

With a little help from Lil, she had accessorised the dress with a silver choker necklace that had belonged to her mother and a small velvet clutch. Her hair was carefully put up with dozens of little bobby pins and she feels sexy and ready to conquer whatever the Greenbriar family had in store for her.

Cardan himself is dressed in a coal coloured suit, a silky scrap of fabric tucked into his jacket pocket, shiny enough to match his eyes. There’s the faintest shimmer of gold on his defined cheekbones and his curly locks are just untidy enough to look stylish and it’s unfair how handsome he is.

“So do you.”

He steps back and holds out his arm for her in the way that gentlemen did in those historical dramas that Lil was always forcing her to watch and it shouldn’t have made her blush as she clutches the soft fabric covering his arm, but it did. She blames it on the corridor’s harsh fluorescent lighting.

Together they glide to the elevator and wordlessy head to the garage where Cardan’s sleek grey Maserati stands out amidst the other rundown cars belonging to the other apartment tenants, her neighbours, yet another reminder of all the differences between the two of them.

“Your carriage awaits you, my lady,” he opens the door for her, something that most of her few disastrous dates had neglected to do in the past and she’s so used to thinking of him as an indecorous scoundrel that him being so courteous was almost unwelcome. She’s not used to spending time with him outside of work and she’s strangely out of her element.

Cardan goes round and gets in on the other side and Jude secures her seatbelt as he starts up the car and swivels his head around to watch the back of the car before reversing.

They’re cruising along in his car and the only noise is the smooth purr of the Maserati and it smells of the pine air freshener that he’s pinned up to the rearview mirror. She leans back in her smooth leather seat and watches as they pass by buildings and skyscrapers and shops, the city buzzing with nightlife.

“So, what exactly is it that I’ve gotten myself into?”

Cardan takes his eyes off of the road to shoot her a swift glance before focusing back ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Well, it’s a dinner party with some of my father’s closest friends, all of them snobs and all of them with their own agendas. I suppose I should also mention that this party is to celebrate the win of his company’s recent lawsuit.”

“Sounds like it’ll be wonderful.” Her words are dry with sarcasm. She has no desire to spend the night making polite conversation with aristocratic stiff necks who would look down upon her, but a bet was a bet and she had to admit that so far Cardan wasn’t making her regret her decision to agree to his challenge.

He surprises her by letting out a low and husky laugh, “You have no idea.”

There’s an awkward silence.

“Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

For the short remainder of the ride the only sound that can be heard are the songs being played on the radio.

The party is in high swing by the time they get there, champagne glasses clink, waiters in their smart uniforms walk around carrying trays of hors d'œuvre and the low rumble of conversation and piano music fills the air. The private outdoor venue is large and there are fairy lights strung on the bordering walls and tea candles on each table, creating an overwhelming effect.

There’s a slightly raised ramp at the other end of the entrance where a podium had been set up, complete with a banner displaying a fancy script that reads ‘Elfhame Enterprises’, which was the name of Cardan’s father, Eldred Greenbriar’s company.

Cardan has been holding her hand since he opened the car door once again for her and now, standing at the entrance of the party and waiting for his invitation to be accepted by the guard stationed at the gate, he squeezes her hand tightly in his and the act seems unconscious. There’s a tension clearly written on his face.

For once she doesn’t need to raise her head to speak to him, thanks to her three inch heels and she leans over to discreetly whisper in his ear, “You ok?”

This time the gentle squeeze that he gives her is definitely on purpose.

“I’m fine.” There’s the smallest of curves to his lips.

A diminutive lady with pale skin and Cardan’s sharp cheekbones and raven hair bustles up to them, a long stemmed wine glass filled to the brim held loosely in her hand. Jewels glistened on her long and low-cut gown, adding to the air of opulence that she exuded.

“Cardan, you’ve finally arrived. Oh and you’ve brought someone with you!”

“Hello, mother.” There’s a tightness in his smile. “Yes I did, allow me to introduce you to Jude Duarte.”

Stepping forward she firmly holds out her hand to Cardan’s mother and is graced with the barest of shakes in return, “You may call me Ma’am.”

Ma’am?

“Of course, thank you...Ma’am.”

Mrs. Greenbriar gives Jude a long and thorough onceover, dissecting her with cold eyes as if she were a mere insect and the feeling is extremely disconcerting. She looks to Cardan for support, but he looks just as out of depth offering her a look of sympathy with the features that so resembled his mother’s.

“So, Judie, what exactly is it that you do?”

She stands taller and staunchly replies, “I’m a Homicide Detective for the 12th precinct.”

“Ah. I see.” The words reverberate with barely hidden disappointment and distaste and just like that she no longer pays Jude any attention, turning to her son and reaching out to possessively clutch his arm and whisper something in his ear which makes him tighten his jaw further before bouncing off, wine spilling over from her glass.

“That was my mother.” Cardan says, unnecessarily.

“Right.” Jude couldn’t help what but wonder about what sort of a childhood he would have had to endure. Perhaps his mother hadn’t always been so disparaging. It seemed that there was a whole different side to Cardan’s life that she’d never known about.

“She's - hard to explain. I apologise for her behaviour though, she shouldn’t have treated you that way.” He’s sincere, but there’s also an underlying note of sadness. The type of sorrow that you would feel if you were let down yet again by someone that you always gave second chances to. Her heart gives a pang on his behalf. Before she can reassure him he continues, as if desperate to push the subject behind them. “Anyways, let me go get you a drink, what’ll you have?”

To the side of the grounds is a long table covered with a white cloth with various bottles of alcohol lined upon it, their colourful glasses glinting under the fairy lights. Behind the bar there’s a bartender in uniform, smoothly mixing drinks to order as rich elites look on.

“Um, maybe a Martini?” She names the first drink that comes to mind.

“A Martini, huh? Dirty, perhaps?” His trademark flirty smirk makes a reappearance and Jude knows exactly how to handle it.

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ in what she hopes is a seductive manner. “Just the way I like it.”

His pupils seem to darken just the tiniest bit and his mouth makes a slight ‘O’ shape before he promptly turns on his heel in the direction of the bar muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

After a few moments of standing near the entrance, moving only to accept a smoked salmon canape from a passing waiter, Jude pulls out her phone from her purse to find multiple texts from Lil.

So? How’s it going?

If you need me to call and be your ‘family emergency’ so you can escape, I can totally do that, just say the word.

Jude

Judeee

You alive?

Biting back a grin she reassures her dramatic friend that she was definitely still alive. She’s just pressed send when she senses someone’s stare on her and something about it makes her skin crawl. She looks up and is met by the sight of a tall girl in a jade green V-cut and backless dress with vibrant blue hair. Nicasia.

“Why, Judie, fancy seeing you here!” Jude inwardly grimaces. Nicasia’s voice hadn’t gotten any less painful to hear since their last encounter. Standing in front of her now, she can’t help but think that she looked slightly ridiculous in all her fripperies, opaque pearls dangled from her ears and around her neck, gemstones glistening on her hair and cerulean eyeshadow that completely overshadowed the rest of her face. Strange to think that the last time they’d met, Jude had been plagued with envy, not even really knowing why.

She plasters a carefully manufactured, artificial smile on her face. “Nicky! What a delight to see you again!”

Nicasia’s face twists for a mere second before her cheerful and friendly facade is back in place. “Quite. Although, I can’t imagine how you’ve come to be here.”

Her words are clearly a question, one that Jude answers beamingly, “Oh, I’m here with Cardan. As his date.”

She watches as the blue-haired girl’s eyebrows fly up her forehead, unable to contain her surprise. Jude knows a moment of smug victory and Cardan chooses this moment to walk up behind her carrying two cocktail glasses in his hands. He stops right next to her, handing her a glass with clear liquid and an orange twist inside it before slipping an arm around her waist, sending a zing up her spine. What the hell did he think he was doing? She briefly considers shaking him off, before realizing that he was holding her this way for Nicasia’s benefit. After all, she was his pretend girlfriend for the night.

“Nicasia! How lovely to bump into you!” His smile is just as fake as Jude’s had been and that fact shouldn’t give her a moment of satisfaction but it did.

“Why hello there Car! Yes your mother invited me, wasn’t that sweet of her? And I was just talking to Judie over here, it’s been lovely seeing her again.” She brings a hand up to her neck and starts twirling a pearl necklace. “I didn’t realise you two were an item?”

Cardan holds her even tighter against him. “Well, what can I say, she swept me off my feet.”

He turns his face to her and gives her a subtle wink before molding his expression into an excruciatingly sappy look of affection, the kind that only existed in extremely cheesy early 2000s Disney movies. Suppressing a smile she returns the look to the best of her abilities.

“Aww, Honey Bunch, you are too adorable!”

Go big or go home, right?

Cardan has difficulty not breaking into laughter but he manages to hide the hysteric sound that leaves his mouth as a deep cough and if this charade went on for much longer she didn’t think she could resist cracking up either.

“Only for you, Kitten.” That almost undoes her.

Nicasia makes a low sound of disgust at their little act and barely bothers to make up an excuse for herself before stalking off, her stilettos clicking against the paved pathway.

“Oh thank God she’s gone, I was afraid that we’d be regaled with ‘Nicasia’s Trials During Sea Travels, A Saga; Part II.’” He’s referring to her last conversation with Nicasia when she had dropped by the precinct to drop something off for him and had ended up spending almost half an hour recounting her issues with sea-sickness. By the end of that half hour Jude had felt like clawing her eyeballs out.

She can’t help but laugh at both his comment and the recollection of their ridiculous masquerade and he rewards her with a look of astonishment, before a slow smile spreads over his face, eyes unbearably soft. “There’s that laugh.”

He’s referring to their conversation at Fair Folk Inks when he’d accused her of being uptight. The recollection should prompt Jude to make a snappy retort, but instead she simply swallows against the sudden lump growing in her throat and her heart is beating quick enough for her to hear. What on Earth was going on? This entire night had felt strangely like being stuck in limbo, her and Cardan shedding their competitive workplace relationship for one that was a lot more informal, a lot more together.

She takes a sip of the forgotten Martini in her hand, trying to push her errant thoughts away. Before she can think of a way to defuse the situation, the tinkling sound of metal being struck against a glass rings out through the night air.

Unnoticed by her, an elderly gentleman in a midnight blue suit that contrasted heavily with his bright blonde hair and owlish bronze eyes had stepped up to the podium. In his ring clad hands he held a wine glass and a fork, explaining the sound that she had heard earlier. Standing a little behind him but at his side is Mrs. Greenbriar, gripping a re-filled glass of wine. There also appears to be someone else standing next to her on the ramp, but the crowd around it is so thick that Jude can’t quite make him out.

“And there’s good ole’ Dad.” Her date for the night doesn’t sound at all enthusiastic about the appearance of his sire at the podium. “Looks like he’s about to grace us with an Eldred speech.”

And indeed, the old man waits until everyone is paying attention to him before he sets down the fork and raises his full glass in the air as he speaks. “Ladies and Gentlemen, as I’m sure you all know; since otherwise all you blighters wouldn’t be here,” there’s a slight smattering of obligatory laughter, “Elfhame Enterprises has recently undergone a lawsuit, which we came out of with a resounding victory against the Seelie Corporation, as everyone knew we would. Nevertheless, let us raise our glasses in celebration and as a toast to many more years of victories and resounding successes!”

United, his entire audience dutifully raises their glasses in a toast and downs the contents, Jude herself takes the smallest of sips from her Martini out of respect, although the alcohol tastes more bitter than before. She had never been a huge fan of these big businesses that bribed and blackmailed and pocketed money for themselves at the cost of so many others and she’d been a detective for long enough to cement that dislike. Then, she makes the startling discovery that Cardan himself had not raised his glass, nor taken a sip, instead, the hand that clutched his drink was doing so so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Before she has the time to question his surprising behaviour Eldred continues speaking.

“In regards to the many years to come for Elfhame Enterprises, well, as you all know I’m not as young as I once was, although I can definitely still party the way I used to,” more polite laughter,

“and it is very likely that I shall be retiring for good in a few years. Until that bittersweet moment arrives however, I am glad to announce that working right along beside me and learning the ropes will be my heir and the man to whom the running of my wonderful company will fall to...my beloved elder son, Dain Greenbriar!”

If a meteor had just flown across the sky and landed two feet away from her, Jude couldn’t have been more shocked than she was at that moment. Cardan had a brother.

She watches in slow motion as the previously hidden figure beside the now jubilant Mrs. Greenbriar steps forward to stand by his father. Unlike Cardan, Dain was the picture of his father, except 30 years younger. His blonde hair was light and shiny and his face was harsh and unforgiving, the angles seeming as sharp as a blade. His handsome but smug smile rubs Jude the wrong way, making her instantly dislike him. Next to her, Cardan wears a shield of uncaring resignation, but whilst she watches him watching his family, there’s an underlying sadness seeping from his countenance and she knows him well enough to detect it.

Jude had always taken Cardan at surface level, he was rich, came from a wealthy family with high connections and lots of influence and he was also a playboy. To her, that meant he had been given an easy life, one where he never had to work hard for anything and got a free pass into doing whatever he liked, so very different from the life that she had lived with her struggling single mother after her father had passed away during an accident at his forge. And now it looked like her disdain for his background had been unfounded. His mother seemed to only care about money and positions, his father was no better and from the self-satisfied grin on Dain’s face she could surmise that he was the golden child of the family, coveted by all and ‘overshadower’ of his younger brother.

The same younger brother whose existence his entire family and their friends seemed to have forgotten about.

Enough was enough.

She deposits her Martini onto a passing tray and does the same with Cardan’s untouched one which she wrestles from his tight grip, before reaching out to take his hand in hers. He tilts his head and considers her for a moment before surrendering with a slight shrug, his usual debonair sucked out of him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She drags him out through the entrance, not stopping to consider if any of the guests was watching them in the turmoil of congratulating Dain and his father.

The moment they’re out of the gates she stumbles into a nearby deserted alleyway, towing a bemused Cardan along with her. They come to a sudden stop right next to a streetlight, and unhesitatingly Jude plonks herself down onto the relatively clean looking sidewalk, with no regard for her new dress.

“Sit.” She pats on an empty spot next to her.

Cardan raises an eyebrow at her, before giving in and seating himself in the place she’d indicated. Her heel clad legs stretch out next to his feet encased by fancy leather Oxford’s.

“Talk.” She silently encourages him with her eyes.

“I-” He starts, then stops. Struggling to meet her steady gaze he finally bows his head and forces himself to speak. “I suppose you could say that my family has never been the most loving,” understatement she thinks, “and ever since the day I was born I was nothing like my big brother, he talked; I watched, he walked; I crawled and it was always like that. He would excel at school, I used to run riot with my friends. I always knew that they loved him more.

“When it was time for me to find a job, I knew that I didn’t want anything to do with the corporate world, I’d seen what it did to my parents and my brother and I wanted nothing to do with it. So I decided I’d do the exact opposite. I’d try my hardest to fight for justice and go against everything that my family stood for, corruption, money and power. That’s why I became a cop, why I enrolled at the academy, why I used my father’s blood money to pay the fees, so I could give back to the community in even some small way. Needless to say, my parents weren’t very happy with that decision.”

His words hit Jude like a volley of arrows. She’d been so very, very wrong about the man sitting next to her. This man who fought so hard to escape his family’s legacy. Regret rushes through her and reaches out for his hand and squeezes it gently, the way he’d done to her earlier.

“Cardan, listen to me, what your family thinks about you doesn’t matter. I wish that you’d grown up with parents and a brother who loved and treasured you the way you deserved, but you know what?

“I think you should be proud of who you are. Because everything that you’ve been through has made you who you are today; Cardan Greenbriar, a pretty smart cop - despite what I said earlier, it wasn’t true and I’m extremely sorry for it - and a partner who always keeps up with me and someone whom I wouldn’t hesitate to entrust my life to and the man who manages to charm everyone in the precinct with his magnetism.”

He’s squeezing her hand right back and his eyes are glistening suspiciously as they burn into hers. A shaky smile manifests at her last few words after which he looks down once again and mutters, “not everyone.”

“Huh?”

“Not everyone.” His voice is stronger now when he raises his head again, more combustible. “You said that I’ve charmed everyone at the precinct, but there’s one woman who appears to be immune, despite being the one woman that I’ve had feelings for for quite a while now…it’s you, Jude.”

She can hear the blood rushing in her ears as her heart thumps. He thought she was immune to him? So had she, she’d thought she hated him, but now she’s wondering if what she felt for him was so much more than hate. Yes, he had her hackles rising faster than anyone else did and his occasional arrogance was a never ending source of annoyance to her, but he was also the man who understood her when she was working overtime on a tough case, always bringing her coffee whenever she pulled an all-nighter, always making sure to inquire after her mother’s health, always making sure she had a safe way of getting home. So many times he’d helped her out in little little ways, disguising his kindness as him merely trying to get under her skin and now her oblivious self was finally starting to realize it.

He smells like pine and Cardan in the aftermath of his confession, and he’d called her Jude, not ‘Duarte’ and he had feelings for her and what she’s about to do next was something that she never dreamed that she would do before, and yet, it was somehow inevitable. She leans over and kisses him.

His lips are so very soft, like a feather, and the moment they meet hers she bursts into flames. This kiss was unlike any that she had ever had before, It was a forge-fire hot conflagration and she didn’t care if it burned her. The flame that had always been there between them is stronger than ever and it felt as though all this time the ‘hate’ burning through them had been hiding a much more powerful passion beneath it.

He brings his hands up to her neck and gently tugs at the bobby pins holding up her hairdo. She barely notices as they skitter to the pavement, leaving her brown locks down for him to pull at. She does the same to him, carding her fingers through his thick curls, curls that felt as sleek as a puppy’s fur against her questing hands.

Panting, he pulls away first and she has to force herself not to follow his lips with hers. Slowly she opens her closed eyes and looks at him, so close now that she can see the slightest flecks of colour in his dark eyes as his breath stirs her loose hair.

“Wow. That...wow,” he babbles, “I - we should date, that was, I mean-”

“Cardan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does exactly that and later, when he asks her out, she has no answer for him but ‘yes’.

The End.

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

Liles, this fic was for you and I hope you enjoyed it. It’s been really fun getting to know more about you through our anon asks and answers and feel free to PM me anytime💕

Once again, I’m tagging: @cupcakesandkittens and @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

Please let me know (via ask or PM) if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist!

#tfota #dd writes #the folk of the air #the folk of the air fanfiction #tfota fic #secretsnusband #jurdannet #jurdannet revels #header edited by me

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rinisbowen · 2 years

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Anonymous asked:

Hi! What do you think is going to be the arc of each main couple (or possible one) in season 3??

(i accidentally prematurely posted this ask, so i’m gonna post it like this as a text post. oops...)

oh gosh... arcs for the main couples / possible main couples in season 3 is... a TALL order haha.

i will say this- i truly don't know with any actual certainty what disney has planned for us. i'd feel a lot more able to speculate on what might be a focus for particular characters than i am for the ships solely because i think that's very much up to a lot of different circumstances that might befall them.

(all of the discussed ships are in the tags in my usual tag format. just like- i always try to not spell out ship names unless it’s 100% positive content to keep searches clean for people. also if i’ve missed a ship in this post, someone please let me know. i tried my best.)

i need to put this under a read more bc it's excessively long, but for those who dare, here is my like- ideas of possible things... more than actual predictions. because like i said, i don't know what's going to happen. i don't think we're going to really know much of anything in this regard until we get the actual episodes. (besides what can be gleaned from the trailer, but that can also be misleading)

returning characters:

howie is someone who i just don't know why they'd put such an emphasis on resolving his and kourtney's issues with in the finale if they weren't bringing him back, but also he's a character that i feel like doesn't need to come back necessarily. it’d be odd to just have him cease to exist, but i don’t see it as out of the question.

it's just complicated bc some of these potential ship arcs really do depend on whether or not the other half of them is coming to camp or not.

i think characters like big red, seb, and mazzarra, will probably be in the season regardless of whether they come to camp. for mazzarra, it makes way more sense that this man wouldn't be at a theatre camp. i'm honestly still confused at how miss jenn will be operating at a professional theatre camp in california, but i'm going to just assume that maybe she needs a summer job bc she's canonically not doing well for herself financially, or that the kids for whatever reason register with the group and they need a chaperone or something. for big big red helping his family at the pizza shop, and seb helping his family at the farm, it's easy enough to justify them not going.

but whether they're at camp does help to determine where they take their respective ships. not because i think them not going means that the ship is over, or that i think them going to camp means they absolutely won't break them up, but it's a lot harder to fight and reconcile within a limited time frame if they're not around each other a lot.

extra caveat:

i do want to note that ships where neither member is in the core four characters aren’t likely to carry the weight of any stronger portions of the show’s major relationship conflicts, so unless things get reshuffled in that sense (which other than maybe nini if they’re getting ready to phase her out for season 4 seems highly unlikely), it’s likely that ej and gina and ricky and lily (and possibly nini depending on how they execute this whole ordeal), are going to bear the majority of the burden for the “drama” again this season.

it’s not that i think all the ships won’t have issues, they all did in season 2 and i’d expect that to continue, it’s just that my considerations i explain them here don’t mean that i think it’s a) what necessarily will happen, or b) that it’ll be as necessarily thorough as i’m laying it out.

seb and carlos:

this is something that could be interesting for this season. regardless of whether seb comes to camp or doesn't, i think it's important for us all to note that the season long conflict seblos had wasn't ever entirely resolved... i know the easiest thing would be to just say well in a heartbeat did just represent them fixing all their issues, and it's possible that the writers do just go that route and say that all is in fact well between them, but i don't think it's over. i think in season 3, they could very well play with both bigger aspects of the seblos conflict.

if seb is staying home to work on the farm, it's kind of a perfect way for them to continue the money plotline that was particularly not addressed. if carlos nonchalantly says oh my family can pay/could've paid for you to come too it's not that big of a deal... just like they were going to pay for seb to come on that vacation, and seb has to tell him it's not just about that part, it could be a really good extension of something that for me just- didn't feel wrapped up. (what i mean here is that it’s not just the cost of the camp, but the cost of not having seb’s labor around the farm, plus the fact that while seb wants to spend time with carlos, seb potentially doesn’t want to leave the farm.)

regardless of seb coming to camp or not though, i think the insecurities about not having other options would be the other big part of the seblos conflict that could come up. this is a summer camp in a whole other state. there will probably be at least one other guy who 'watches drag race canada' as big red/ashlyn put it. (as a side note if disney could remember to just say the word gay that would be great.) it could give carlos an opportunity to actually choose seb, even in the presence of other options.

i don’t expect a huge seblos conflict this season, because it’s just- not how the show is set up, and i do anticipate (unless joe’s leaving after season 3), seb and carlos to stay together, but i did want to lay this stuff out because i think if they’re getting a broader conflict it’d make the most sense for it to be one of the two bigger ones that they already have.

big red and ashlyn:

gosh i wish we knew definitively what was going on with the unconfirmed regulars, bc that would definitely help here. but- i think something they could do with big red and ashlyn is just like- continuing learning how they work together and things. building them up more as a couple because they don’t face a ton of external strains. their issues are mostly internal. i don’t know if the thing i’m talking about here specifically will come up in season 3 bc it would be a bit repetitive, but it’s something i wanted to discuss.

i think the main issue for big red and ashlyn (as individuals but also in their relationship) is not feeling “enough” in some way or another. i went on a ramble that i deleted about their 2.08 storyline bc- it’s way too much to get into on this post, but maybe another day haha. for this post, i’m just going to say that the being enough thing is probably going to be where their continued issue comes into play.

big red faced not feeling like he was enough for ashlyn in 2.03 with the belle thing, and again sorta in 2.08 with the career day thing. they could do something with that again in season 3. i don’t know that they will, bc it’s been twice now and they kinda did put it to bed both times, but- insecurity is often a hard pill to swallow, so maybe it comes up again. ashlyn not feeling like enough is a repeating theme for her... in season 2 she questions herself as belle a good number of times. so they both have that kind of motif going. that makes it a compelling argument for something to play with that in season 3.

kourtney and howie:

for the sake of this post, i’m going to operate on the assumption that he will be in the season and at the summer camp. if they’re going to use the harness to break up ricky and lily (which i don’t think is a given, but i’d see it as quite plausible), i think that it’s going to come back to bite howie and kourtney’s relationship as well. personally, at this point i’m of the mind that zackey roy is responsible for the plan of the harness theft because he was the one who took the beast mask, and lily and howie (and antoine since we don’t ever see him in the audience, but he was at the show) carried it out on his request.

i think howie likely was the one who grabbed the harness backstage bc he’s the only one the ehs kids would trust backstage. also this boy was just WAY too suspicious in the hallway for him to merely be caught off guard by kourtney’s being talented. i think the “i was blown away” line from 2.12 can still be true, but i also definitely think he was helping with the harness theft. i can get into details on that another day.

now on to my actual explanation of what i think is likely to happen between howie and kourtney for season 3. if the harness reveal comes out, i think the most likely answer as to how, is probably howie owning up about it because he feels guilty lying to his girlfriend. kourtney of course feels betrayed again, so this would probably drive a wedge between them, but i think that’s resolved easily enough because it wasn’t like it was his idea to steal it in the first place. (bc zack’s of course not coming back, they might put it all on lily, but i stand by my argument it was zack’s idea.) either way, the blame won’t fall on howie for it regardless of his involvement. he and kourtney have dealt with the fallout of his betraying her trust before, and that’s led to them resolving their issues as well.

i don’t have a reason to suspect that won’t happen this time too, beyond the possibility of them writing howie out of a season 4 if they get one. if he’s not returning, they will both end the season single more likely than not. if he is, i’m sure they’re going to be happy as ever by the end. regardless of the harness conflict coming up in season 3 or not, i think the issue with kourtney and howie is probably one of trust. she wants to trust him, but she has a hard time, and kourtney’s not someone to ask for any less than she deserves. i think if kourtney and howie encounter any further bumps in the road, it will follow that same type of path as last season with a trust thing of some kind. maybe they’d do something with the ‘intimidation’ aspect from the finale? i don’t know, but i do know i think kourtney’s not the type to let anyone stop her from shooting for her full potential, and she won’t want to feel held back either.

the miss jenn triangle:

this is probably more than likely going to go in the direction of miss jenn and mr. mazarra unless they’re writing him out after season 3 bc of cal tech. it’s not that i think miss jenn and ricky’s dad aren’t likely to give it another chance potentially, i think ricky giving her his blessing is important for ricky’s character growth, but it also just is something that only ended out of care for ricky which means that they were still interested when it ended which makes it not such a clean break.

i think unless mr. mazarra leaves for cal tech permanently, he and miss jenn are probably the most likely scenario for the end of the season. i think they’re going to have to deal with the cal tech thing as a big part of their conflict, and then the other is with miss jenn puzzling over how she even feels bc she’s still likely going to be torn between her two suitors. she has some nice moments with mr. mazarra, post 2.06 especially, but she’s definitely still into mike at the end there as well, and given ricky’s down now for that (to the greatest extent he can be anyway), i think she’s going to be likely to want to give that another shot.

gina and ej:

the biggest conflicts for them will imo probably be related to college and val (i consider those one thing for the sake of this post), and then the experience issue.

ej and gina are in/going into different life stages as he enters college and she has two more years of high school remaining. that’s not something the show seems bothered by at all, so i always try not to use it against them in my analysis necessarily, but it has to create an issue somewhere, particularly if they’re making a point of bringing in a college girl. like- if they don’t touch on it, that’s probably going to bother me.

val is described as a college student and a counselor in training, so my best guess is that she’s probably the year right above ej if she’s not potentially even in his same year. i have two thoughts here. the first being that ej doesn’t know what his future holds as far as college and that sort of thing, because he made a non-decision decision about college in season 2. his actual arc about his future never got resolved, so i think having someone around who is in college will be the perfect way to get that story straightened out. i know that’s more an ej arc thing than a portwell arc thing, but it’s important to this relationship that ej be in proximity to gina.

i discussed this in another ask, but i think right now, gina would be unwilling to deal with long distance in a relationship. she’s not there yet. but she also doesn’t want to let go of ej. so the fact that his college stuff is so up in the air at the moment will be something that affects their plot arc in terms of their relationship, beyond it just being an ej thing.

this also (presumably) being the summer camp where ej and nini hit it off, means that it’s important that val’s described as being a “long time camper”, because that means that she and ej have probably known each other a couple of summers at least, if not even longer than that. she’s going to be a fantastic way to touch at gina’s potential insecurities in this relationship, and her being a dancer (and choreographing the show) is also going to pick at gina as well more than likely on top of the whole age and time thing val should bring in. plus of course there’s the carlos factor of him feeling robbed from this thing (choreographing) that was his. (but this post is about ships)

gina’s probably going to become very aware of the fact ej’s had a good deal of relationship experience, and while i don’t doubt she’ll likely be quite excited to share some of these firsts with ej (like she was her first kiss), i think the fact it’s not exactly shared in that same way might weigh on her a bit. his being older adds to that as well even beyond the way he’s presented, and i think if val is seen by gina (even if not actually by ej) as a potential romantic interest for him, i think that age part is going to come in harder. i lowkey would not be entirely shocked if val was perhaps ej’s first kiss or he hers if they really want to play with that aspect. (again, i don’t necessarily expect val to be like- an actual legitimate romantic interest for ej, if it’s a thing i’d anticipate it being more of a omg we were literal children isn’t that so funny thing. for me, val would only pose a chance of being a legitimate romance for ej if ej’s not returning for a fourth season. and even then...)

that said, none of this is to say whether or not they’re going to make it out together. they may quite well make it through the whole of the season. i don’t know what the plan is. i just think there’s a decent likelihood they carry a substantial amount of the couple drama this season. if this is like the more secondary ships on the show, they’re gonna make it out just fine. i think people either understate or overstate their probabilities on here a lot, but what i’m willing to say is, if they think this is their final season, this couple is almost decidedly going to end the season together for closure’s sake. they could have a ‘none of that matters’ type of scene, and it’ll be just fine.

it’s likely in my mind that if they’re so willing to brush over the concerns in 2.10, they’ll do the same in season 3, but just make them actually face concerns instead of just like ‘oh no it’s not about that’. it’s silly for the show to just say lol no that’s not a problem about every possible issue. they could very well just come out stronger for addressing them. if they break up i don’t really think it’ll be bc ej ‘chooses val’ or anything like that. if they break up it’ll be because gina’s decided to take herself out of the equation more than likely. they’ll be friends. it won’t be an easy decision, but they’ll decide it’s the right one. that way the door is still propped open, but the book is shut. we’ll see. i think there’s decent odds going in either direction, and i think part of it depends on whether they anticipate an additional season, and what they anticipate the size of ej’s role to be in an additional season.

ricky and gina:

putting these two couplings back to back is maybe odd, but they’re in direct contention for people so i figure it’s easier.

the biggest thing for ricky and gina in season 3 is rebuilding their friendship, because that’s just a part of their positions in the broader group and then as members of the main four. the other big thing is then also deciding once and for all if this is going to have romantic potential moving forward. imo, we will know in the season finale for a fact if ricky and gina are over as a romantic thing or not.

i think the priority will be making them friends again, even if only in the proximal sense. gina arguably was putting distance between herself and ricky in the latter part of season 2, and i think they’re probably going to start making up for that decently early on in the season (but of course this also depends on what they do with ricky and lily, because if he’s nonchalantly bringing her around the ehs kids... i say good luck with that.) by mid-season, they’ll likely be interacting more regularly.

if gina and ej are broken up in the last few episodes of the season (for a non-ricky reason, because that’s very crucial to this being a good decision for the writing of this show. we ALL know that ej losing another girl to ricky because they’re still into him is... not exactly kind to ej’s character arc), and then ricky and gina have a sweet moment in the finale, season 4 would then be ricky and gina’s season to get together.

this wouldn’t be an explicitly romantic scene, i don’t think they can give them anything this season that is explicitly romantic. if it’s in the cards, it’ll all be about the stares. the missing each other aspect that we really didn’t see in 2b... and tbh should’ve gotten in 2b if they wanted us to anticipate these two picking up again romantically but that’s a personal opinion. and if it happens... it’s going to have to start on ricky’s side of things. that’s where it gets extra complicated. the show is going to have to prove that ricky genuinely likes gina and that it’s not another season 1 situation. it has to be him that does the longing first. i don’t think even if gina decides she’s not over him, that she’s going to be willing to put herself out there again for him, even in the case that she and ej are 100% over.

i just don’t know. in the same way i don’t know if ej and gina are 100% making it out of this season together, i don’t know if they plan on putting ricky and gina in a place to get together properly. only time will tell.

can y’all tell i’m pretty indifferent to who gina ends up with? i really just- we’ll see. as long as they’re all happy i don’t care.

ricky and lily:

this is... a complicated one. i’ve given them three episodes in the past, i’ve thought about it more and considered that it could be likely to be about half the season, if not maybe even a bit longer... i don’t know. i genuinely just don’t know how they’re planning on handling this relationship. she’s definitely his rebound, no one can deny that, but he’s also genuinely trying this time vs. the half hearted effort in season 1. we’ll see what difference that makes.

i’ve talked about this before, but i genuinely think both characters will be able to get something really good out of this. i don’t claim it’ll be some sort of panacea for lily by any means, but i do legitimately think being with ricky is going to help her quite a bit. there’s several ways they can execute this. one is the like- “i’m not willing to really do this until you can show me you’re the person i see you can be”, another is the “maybe let’s keep this between us for now? so they can start to see what i see”, and the third option is ricky shamelessly trying this out for himself because well- he’s in rebound mode and he’s just here to try his best to enjoy it.

obviously it’s vastly more complicated than that, but well... those are probably the three more likely scenarios.

i don’t know like- the first is how i’ve seen people compare them to simbar from soy luna. like ricky kinda starts getting to know lily properly, but he’s not genuinely giving this a shot romantically until he sees she genuinely is being the good person he sees within her. the ‘i don’t think she’s as mean as we thought’ or whatever the line is in 2.11. this is the option that i think is probably the kindest on ricky’s character arc. i don’t know if they’re willing to be this nice to him tbh. but we’ll see. this is the version of their story that has their arc last the longest. because we’ll have to wait a while to see them even try it romantically. it would make sense given the little “loyal to the last” comment from the hallway conversation in 2.11 for him to wait. this is probably the least messy version of the story.

the second is the tropey delight which is secret dating. or “dating” more likely. i don’t think this is going straight from wow i’m calling you after your awkward confession to now we hold hands and stuff regardless of what route they take it. before it ends, they probably will be properly like- together... but most couples on this show sorta have to establish the relationship in some way. i expect theirs to be the same in that sense. but yeah secret dating... it’s not an unlikely idea, given his little “i’m learning that loyalty can be... complicated” when he and lily see his dad and miss jenn flirting in the hall in 2.11 after she describes him as loyal. maybe his loyalty in season 3 will be complicated in this way, extending past an outright sort of ‘flaunting’ but a betrayal that’s been hidden as well. it adds another layer to the hurt when it comes out. (like the howie reveal in 2.07.)

the third is probably the messiest option. because i mean- yes, ricky is clearly in his rebound era. whether he does it meaningfully this time is what actually matters. i do think lily’s bound to get him out of his rebound era with this relationship of theirs, but him like- oh so casually bringing her around and such just- it isn’t likely going to go over well for anyone involved. could it be fun? sure. will it be positive for his character development? absolutely not. this one has him facing rejection by his friends much earlier on in the plot, and while that means the reconciliation there can happen earlier as well, it’s still not gonna be pretty. they all already don’t like lily. him ‘flaunting’ their new little situation isn’t going to give him any favorable attention. he doesn’t even have to do it intentionally, people are still gonna be angry with him for just existing with her around the others. it’s how this goes.

or no, the most messy version of the story is the ‘i can make him worse’ version. like “i could fix him” / “i could make him worse” thing? y’all know what i’m talking about. lily makes ricky into a more negative character instead of him improving her. i do not want to have to watch this. it’d be such a waste when they really could help one another, and especially lily could really help him with the family stuff (especially if miss jenn doesn’t immediately choose mazarra the way i suspect she won’t). if lily is solely an “agent of chaos”, i think it’s a waste of the extra characterization they’ve built for her in the back portion of season 2. she will absolutely still be messy in season 3, but i truly don’t think she has to actively act to hurt ricky’s character herself. her proximity will do that alone through the betrayal of sorts he commits against his friends by being with her. plus the harness. if they’re doing the harness thing that’s harm enough on him.

i really do think lily could be good for ricky, i have an ask answered about it, but i don’t think this arc, regardless of how they handle it, is going to be good for ricky in the sense of his friendships. he’s going to be left alone for a bit, and not in a positive way. bc he’s going to end things with her, and then his friends are more than likely still going to be mad that he did it in the first place. even if he ends it solely out of loyalty to them, the same loyalty he acts on when he rejects her offer for pizza in the hallway in 2.11. (and then he calls her of course bc he tells miss jenn ‘no one should be able to tell anyone who they can or can’t take a chance on’ or whatever that line is in 2.12.) it’s not likely to end well. just saying. that’s the thing i hate about this situation the most is that more than likely it’s just almost certainly going to lead to him suffering more in the end.

ricky and nini:

to tell you the truth i’m of a few different mindsets for these two... (but i mean that’s true about most of these couples as well). the biggest thing for ricky and nini in season 3 is that they can’t just ignore the fact these two were childhood friends and such, they’re friends before they’re a couple, and i think that’ll be a good thing to use now that the romantic end of things is closed for the moment, like it would be odd if they just downright stopped speaking after the 2.12 card scene in the dressing room gave that transitional moment for them. imo if there’s anything with even the implication of romance between them it has to start on nini’s end (this part is non-negotiable for me ngl), and if something is occurring, it has to fall on the last episode or the penultimate one if they’re gonna draw out the fallout for it. (imo they’ll wait for a final season to give them the implication of maybe having something between them again, because of the space i think there needs to be plot-wise for both of their character arcs, but it’s yet to be seen. i don’t think they’re going to be in a relationship on screen necessarily before the show ends, but i don’t think they’re quite done with each other)

if something happens between these two romantically in season 3, i think it’ll be more thoughts then actions. (or actions with no clear romantic intent, but maybe undertones. like- an it’s technically a friendly gesture but it reminds me why i love(d) you type thing perhaps?). i just can’t see anything beyond just the kind of lingering looks and possible jealousy and maybe some kind of kind gesture from maybe ricky’s side, maybe nini’s... but the biggest thing for me this season for the two of them is that they’re shown being friends.

i don’t think we can quite rule them out for a romantic plot in general for the show, particularly bc they broke up while definitely still loving each other, but... for the time being they both have their own plots i’d anticipate their focus going towards. if there’s anything between them we’ll see it in some possible jealousy on nini’s part watching him with lily i’d bet, particularly since he’s having this summer romance she had with ej in this place the previous year, but the main thing will be that their friendship shouldn’t just disappear entirely this season. it’ll frustrate me a great deal if it does. i just want it to be shown that they are friends who care about one another, bc that doesn’t just go away post-breakup.

i’m talking a good deal about what the romantic potential is for them in season 3 bc this post is about ‘relationships’, but again, i don’t anticipate anything actually happening for them that is explicitly romantic. i don’t think it’s the right time for them, because while tim said we didn’t see the treehouse get torn down, the book is closed right now. and closed with good reason. they both have other plotlines for season 3 that aren’t inherently incompatible with their romantic reconciliation, but would be for the way nini’s growth has always been written. ricky’s not over her, but he’s trying to be. we’ll have to see how much success he has. and how much she has to be fair. i don’t expect much of a romantic plot for nini this season (if any at all), but i think that’s for the better for allowing her to actually let her character growth stick.

ricky has to learn not to need her, nini already knew that in the latter part of season 1. when nini gets back together with him in 1.10, the idea was that she didn’t need him anymore, but she still wanted him, i think he needs to get to that same place before there’s any real possibility between them. like the goal for him (in any relationship he finds himself in as the show progresses) is that you want to be with her, you don’t need to be with her. she can be his calm amongst the storm, but she can’t be his safety blanket.

for a quick side tangent, using camp rock songs in the one season where it makes no sense for ricky and nini to have a real romantic plot is sort of a waste to me considering the fact that the connection between music and love is genuinely their thing, there’s a reason they sing “you are the music in me”, it’s one of their tethers. imo trying to give that sort of metaphor to another couple if they use a song like “gotta find you” for narrative- singing about someone being “the song inside of me”, and “you're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing” is just not going to work as well for any of the other couples on this show when it’s a hallmark of ricky and nini’s relationship that songs (and songwriting) are super meaningful to their relationship. i’m completely blanking rn but there’s honestly a good few songs in camp rock (both movies) which use that tie-in, not just “gotta find you”.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 3 #ship: seb x carlos ( hsmtmts )#ship: big red x ashlyn ( hsmtmts )#ship: kourtney x howie ( hsmtmts )#ship: miss jenn x mike ( hsmtmts )#ship: miss jenn x mr. mazarra ( hsmtmts )#ship: ej x gina ( hsmtmts )#ship: ricky x gina ( hsmtmts )#ship: ricky x lily ( hsmtmts )#ship: ricky x nini ( hsmtmts )#answered #anonymous #//y'all this is SO long i'm so sorry

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msjr0119 · 3 years

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Hey everyone! Sorry for another long hiatus, I’m still alive- even if I look like a zombie every morning 🙈😂. I have really bad baby brain at the moment so if there’s some grammatical errors, please ignore them. They will be rectified before posting.

⚠️Please do not read if you are under 18⚠️

A/N1: Whilst I’ve been on hiatus I have been editing a few things of mine, so have decided to do a Sneak Peek/ WIP. There will be warnings for each specific series.

A/N2: @callmeellabella / @plumeriavibes sent me a few requests to do over a year ago- they are completed and I hope to post this week. Technically here in the UK we are still in lockdown - so they will still be apt, Ella 😂

Tags- As always I tag my combined tag list for these things⬇️

@drakexwillow @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desiree-pow @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @rafasgirl23415 @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @shanzay44 @choices97 @gardeningourmet @lovablegranny @mom2000aggie @gkittylove99 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @rubiwalker

Cordonian Wags

⚠️ Warnings - Possible adultery? 🤷‍♀️

“Miss Brooks, please.” Standing up slowly, her legs felt like jelly. Following the sonographer into the room, she laid on the bed before slowly raising her top which revealed a small neat bump. The image that all the paparazzi had been so desperate to capture.

“Before we begin, are there any questions that you’d like to ask?” The woman calmly asked as she prepared to begin the scan.

“Every baby is a miracle, right?”

“Yes, of course they are. There’s no need to be worried. Everything will be fine.” Obviously the health of the baby was a priority- but in her situation there were other queries that were lingering throughout her mind.

“Your baby is going to be either a footballer or a gymnast. Look at its legs, it’s such a wriggle bum.” For the first time since entering the room, she slowly turned her head and viewed her baby for the first time. “The baby’s heartbeat is fine... you have a very active and healthy baby. I have no concerns. How many copies of the photo would you like?” Answering one, she ran her finger over the black and white shot. Just you and I, little one.

“Can I ask one question?”

“Of course!”

“With these scans... I may sound stupid, which I have been recently in the last few months. My question... it’s ridiculous. I already deep down know the answer but can you tell certain things such as the baby’s race? Grandparents DNA?” The medical professional sat down close to her, holding her hand that was shaking as she spoke those words.

“Unfortunately not.... is there....”

“Let me rephrase my question... is there anyway that you can tell who the father is?”

****

A Proposal

There are two WIP for this series. A one shot based on Bertrand as well as a sneak peek for the upcoming chapter. If you don’t read the series, the one shot can be read as a stand alone.

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, nudity, possible ‘affair’.

One shot

Regretting his idiotic split second decision, Bertrand was now locked out of his room. Wearing a skimpy towel that barely just covered up his manhood. Due to the alcohol consumption- his brain was barely functioning as he began to ‘walk’ along the corridor. Rounding the corner, he spotted two familiar faces- then stumbled knocking down a painting off of the wall.

“Your highness! Ri Ri... good evening.” Both sets of eyes widened, mainly for two reasons. The first one being, witnessing Bertrand in this state. The second reason- would the Duke remember seeing them together. Alone. Did he see Liam lock his lips onto Riley’s? They would sure find out in the morning, once the group reformed.

“I wonder where everybody else is? Where’s the staff in this place?” Bertrand muttered to himself as he entered the elevator. Reaching the ground floor, the drunk duke strolled out not having a care in the world.

“Sir? You cannot walk around like that. Please return to your room immediately!”

“I’m locked out!” Wafting his arms in the air- the towel soon disappeared. Creating jaws in the reception to drop to the floor in sync. “What? Have you never seen a naked man before?”

“Sir... please....” The young receptionist pleaded.

“If I hear you say ‘Sir’ one more time, I will get the prince to lock you up in his dungeon.... I AM A FUCKING DUKE YOU IMBECILE!” To avoid more of a commotion, the receptionist handed Bertrand a sign to hold against his private parts. Out of order. To cover his buttocks up- she handed him another sign; No exit.

Chapter 2

Riley headed down to the hotel lobby, mainly needing to grab some breakfast to sober up. Still feeling slightly drunk, she had debated whether or not to eat or do the hair of the dog.

“Blossom! There you are!” Jumping out of her skin to begin with- she was relieved when Maxwell was on his own.

“Here I am...” Where should I have been? Did I miss a memo?

“I was so worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. We’ve lost Liam. Then I came to find you and couldn’t see you anywhere. Bertrand- well I found him naked on the bathroom floor. With two... forget about Bertrand. Where have you been? You smell manly. Have you ran out of that black opium already?”

“Well I was in my room all night. The jet lag must have knocked me unconscious...” Lying, she didn’t want to admit that she had a blissful night with the prince. “What do you mean I smell manly?” Having a discreet sniff of herself, she couldn’t smell anything.

“You smell of aftershave. It’s similar to what Drake and Liam wear. Are you sure that you was alone?” Shit.

“Erm, I fell over on the way down here. A man who works here helped me. He must have been wearing the same aftershave. There’s not only people in Cordonia who wear it Max! Although I did bump into Daniel at some point. It could have been him? I was on my own, all night. Believe me.” Please believe me.

****

The American Adventure

Warnings: Swearing

“Riley?” The line cut off.

It wasn’t her, that’s why she hung up. How useless is Glen? We are looking for Leo. Unless Leo has a secret that he’s keeping from us all.

“Hey, Li. Wrong number. Fuck it, forget about Leo. If we can’t track him down we will just go to New York without him. As Bastien said, you need to have a bachelor party before the shit show of a social season begins.” Liam didn’t require Drake to remind him of what his future held for him. The lack of freedom and choices he could have made him wish at times that he wasn’t now the next in line.

“Glen was sure that was the correct number.” Liam glared at his head guard, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Unless Leo’s turned into some obnoxious Yankee bitch- then no it’s the wrong number. I’ll just go and pack a bag and come back with you. Give me five minutes.” Waiting for Drake to be out of view, Glen gulped before defending himself to his monarch.

“That was the number that you provided me with your highness- and I confirmed it. Somebody else must have that number now. Not, Riley.”

“Glen, once we get back to the palace- do another thorougher search on Lindsey and Riley Brooks.” Liam whispered.

“But, your highness... you’ve been trying to do this for over a decade now. Myself and Bastien - we tried....”

“Glen, don’t question my actions. Please. I am pleading with you to do this one more time. Bastien always avoided doing this for myself. For Drake. I don’t know why? But it seemed like he knew something but kept it from the both of us. If we can’t find them, then I’ll accept defeat.”

“Yes Sir, what about Prince Leo?”

“Leave Leo to me, I already know where he is. He’s closer to us than you all think.”

***

The Unexpected Roommate

Just a short sneak peek for this one. Don’t want to give too much away.

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Leo x Olivia, Liam x ?

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, pranks, alcohol mention, end of a relationship.

Once she had packed all of her belongings, she looked around the apartment- feeling slightly sentimental. Leaving the keys on the table, she didn’t want to keep them. Instead, she wanted to close this chapter of her life- being Drake Walker’s roommate.

“Shit! The cupcakes!” Racing over to the oven- she had completely forgotten about her goodbye gesture that was now impersonating a charcoaled sausage. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Emptying the cupboards, food items were now scattered everywhere until she stumbled across a basic Victoria sponge cake. That’ll do.

~ ~ ~

Drake and Leo returned to the apartment- slightly later than the two of them had anticipated. Whilst they sat in the bar, Drake thought back to Riley’s words. Regretting denying that she could be correct, he had hoped that she would have reconsidered about staying with Olivia. He needed to apologise, talk openly to her- before he lost her for good.

“It’s ‘oh so quiet’... awww she’s made us a cake with a message on it, Drake.”

Au reviour, Dickheads...Ri xo

“She’s a fucking scruff! Have you seen all of the burnt cupcakes? The washing up pile? Food everywhere! She’s fucked off and not cleaned up after herself!”

“Drake, calm down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. How the two of you lived together and not killed each other is beyond me. Let’s tuck in.” Drake shook his head as he watched Leo dive in like a starved caveman. Staring vacantly at the scene surrounding them, he had no idea where to begin to clean up after Riley.

“This is disgusting! It tastes weird... just try a bit, buddy. I think my taste buds are playing tricks with me.” Taking one glance at the cake, Drake rolled his eyes back after inhaling the aroma of the sponge cake.

“It tastes weird because it’s not what you’d usually top a cake or dessert with. How stupid could you be eating something before smelling it?”

“It looked soooo scrumptious. When you’ve been drinking, you’re starving. What is it then Mr Clever clogs?” Leo sarcastically said.

“You use it with a razor!”

****

Unnamed one shot

I decided to do a one shot based on my labour of my little girl. It was short in comparison to most labours- but so much happened. Looking back now, I find it slightly hilarious.

⚠️Warnings: Alcohol mention, labour.

Ten minutes later- Savannah knocked on the door. Wearing her pajamas, Ugg boots and a parka coat- Riley knew it was cold outside, it was December after all. But she believed that Savannah would have come fully dressed as she had taken a long time to arrive when she lives on the next road. As she entered the house- she witnessed her brother pouring whiskey into his cup of tea. Shaking. Panicking. Wondering how the labour was going to go. Would he be a good birth partner again? Would it all go to plan?

“Great minds, bro.” As she said this, a can of Strongbow magically appeared from her coat pocket. Bitches I’m the one in labour, why are you both drinking alcohol?

“Can you one of you just get me some pain relief please? It’s in the top drawer...” Savannah looked at Drake with a perplexed expression, wondering what Riley meant with her words. Lucky Drake knew what his girlfriend was referring to. He didn’t agree with her choice. But also wouldn’t want her to turn into ‘she hulk’ if he refused to give her it.

#choices trr #trr fanfic #WIP #sneak peek #the royal romance #the royal romance a/u #drake x Riley #drake x mc #Liam x Riley #Liam x mc #drake walker #Riley Brooks #Liam Rys #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x riley #tw: adult language #tw: adultery #tw:alcohol mention

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 3 years

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Disappearance 2: The Sighting {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you all so much for your support with this story so far, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Disappearance Masterlist

He dreamt of Chiasa often.

On bad nights his mind created terrible scenarios about who she was with and where she was and what was happening to her. Other better nights let him fantasize about finding her and bringing her back to his agency with a smug grin as he reunited with the love of his life.

Most nights, though, his dreams were memories. Soft around the edges and sometimes fuzzy in detail, but as real as he could remember.

That night he had a dream about finding their first apartment for just themselves. It was going to be a far cry from sharing a townhome with Kaminari and Jiro, mostly because it wasn’t going to be as cluttered and full of ridiculous pranks but also because it would finally be theirs.

He could vividly remember coming home from one of the early meetings with the Hero Public Safety Commission about starting his own agency and seeing her in the sitting room practically vibrating with excitement. She’d pulled him down beside her and all but shoved her tablet into his face to look at what she’d found, declaring that their search was over.

And it had been. The building had twenty-four security and desk staff, keycard resident entry, and was in a safer neighborhood with a low crime rate. He could see it was a short walk to the nearest train station and if he got the approval for his agency and secured the building he wanted, it wouldn’t be a long commute at all. Two bedrooms was well within their budget and would allow her to have a dedicated office space for her work from home position instead of her current setup at the foot of their bed.

He didn’t realize he’d been grinning until she poked his cheek and asked an impatient, “Well?”

“Let’s apply.”

She let out a happy squeal as she threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing his face repeatedly as he tried to keep a hold on her tablet. Her grip only seemed to grow tighter the more he weakly fought her embrace.

“Katsuki, this is going to be amazing!” she laughed, kissing his temple one final time as she pulled back slightly to cuddle against him. This time he didn’t fight the embrace, instead wrapping an arm around her to keep her close.

He’d scoffed. “’Course it’ll be amazing. It’s you and me.”

“You and me,” she agreed with a smile.

He could hear her saying those words as clear as day in his memories. It had started as a joke about the first time they’d gone out alone without friends; he’d asked her if she wanted to go to a new mochi shop and she immediately went to text the rest of their friends before he stopped her, grunting, “You and me.”

After some time it just became theirs. Three words with just as much weight as I love you. It was a simple way to say more important things—“I’m here for you” and “We’re in this together” and “The two of us cannot be broken.”

It was a part of how their bond became as strong as it did, and he missed hearing it in person.

Cool, early September air was left behind as the door to his agency closed behind him. He wasn’t thrilled with the weather beginning to take a turn towards lower temperatures, knowing his quirk took longer to build up its power. As much as he hated being called a “slow starter” in the winter it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Hikari greeted him with a curt good morning as he passed her desk and slid a few papers his way without looking up. He grabbed them and in their place set down a travel mug of peppermint tea and a small blue bento, his own low mornin’ barely audible.

Making his way to his office he looked over the patrol routes for the day and the notations about the current goings-on of the areas. It was fairly run-of-the-mill with little suspected villain activity, a perfect time to allow some of the newer sidekicks and interns to tag along with his people for the day.

Surprisingly this was one of the things he enjoyed about running his own agency. Planning and strategizing were some of his strong suits despite how much he did enjoy blasting headfirst into battle when he could. But as the man in charge he liked being control of where his people were posted a lot too.

He had already decided who would be taking which patrol by the time everyone was gathered in the large conference room in their hero costumes, some more bleary-eyed than others. Mugs of coffee and tea billowed steam above the table and Kirishima’s branded shaker bottle stood taller than all of them.

Kaminari yawned lazily and Sero elbowed him in the ribs at the stern glare of their boss.

“Three sectors, little activity save for the corner tea shop on route 2B,” he started as everyone turned their eyes towards him. “Cellophane and Pinky, you two are taking the sidekicks to sector 1. Route A to Cellophane, B to Pinky. Choose your sidekicks and report it before you leave.”

The two heroes fist bumped and shot grins and thumbs up towards the sidekicks across the table from them. They were the best to get collaboration on the brain when it came to the newer recruits.

“Sector 2 goes to Red Riot and Chargebolt. Red, you’re on route A with the two interns and Chargebolt you’re taking route B so make sure that shitty shop isn’t getting worse.”

He knew that Kirishima was the perfect option for guiding the wide-eyed interns through some of their first tastes of the hero life. Plus, he was the best defense if trouble arose and backup would take time.

“I’m taking sector 3 myself. Questions?” When no one responded, he concluded, “Alright, get out there.”

Kaminari shot a smile to everyone he came across on his patrol. Chargebolt was a well-liked figure and regarded very highly as a personable hero when spotted in public. He was proud to have cultivated that good will with the people and was oftentimes the one who handled the media for the Dynamight agency alongside Kirishima, Red Riot’s popularity one of the only heroes higher than himself.

Quieter times to stop and chat with his fans were always his favorite but days like this that required more vigilance he did what he could with smiles and waves to those he saw. Even if there was only suspected villain activity at the tiny tea shop across from the mall he had to keep a close eye on it.

He tried to spend as much time as he could with the shop in view while still patrolling the rest of the route. Nothing of note caught his attention all morning and well into the afternoon.

Then the afterschool crowd and post workday crowds filled the area. He began to see a few suspicious characters that he reported back to the agency when he had a chance, but none of them gave any other indication of wrongdoing. He preferred to be thorough, though, just like Bakugo liked.

Half a dozen notes later, as the sun was low in the sky, he started to plan his evening once he got home. Jiro had the day off which meant she would spend most of it in the studio and bring home their favorite takeout. She was always in a great mood after a day in the studio too, and he loved seeing her so happy.

The tinkling bell of the tea shop’s door opening brought him from his thoughts and his gaze fell on a scraggly-haired brunette stepping into the evening air. From where he was down the street, he could see her pull the hand of a small boy to come stand by her on the sidewalk. Dark, matted hair sat atop his head and he scratched at the arm the woman held.

The closer he got the more he noticed about them—the woman’s ill-fitting dress and oversized sweater in much warmer contrast to the boy’s too short jeans and short sleeved tshirt. The boy shook from the cold and he quickened his pace, everything in him ready to shrug off his jacket and wrap the child in it while giving a few choice words to the mother.

As he approached he saw the woman’s eyes darting furiously as she hurriedly crossed towards one of the mall’s department store entrances, the boy shuffling along beside her as he went from scratching his arm to scratching his neck. Her grip on his arm looked tighter than it should be, and she walked quickly with no regard for if he could keep up with her longer strides.

Kaminari took in as many details as possibly as he began crossing too before stopping dead in his tracks in the crosswalk when the woman turned and said something to the boy. Her profile fit all of his observations in place and he tried to make himself move forward to confirm what he thought he was seeing.

By the time his body started to cooperate the duo had disappeared into the crowded department store and he was left at the door with only startled suspicions and half-formed what if scenarios in his mind. He had to tell someone, someone other than Bakugo who would surely fly off the handle on him for losing sight of the woman.

As he went to radio Kirishima, his comm came on with an incoming message from the redhead instead—“Charge, rendezvous in twenty at our starting point to head back to the agency?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed breathlessly. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Kirishima nudged him in the side, concerned for his usually loud blonde friend who had barely said a word on their journey back to the agency. “Are you okay, man? You’re never this quiet.”

Kaminari chewed the inside of his cheek as he pulled on his street clothes. With a sigh he ruffled his hair with his hand before rubbing his face.

“I saw something weird on my route at the tea shop.”

“Oh damn, what happened? Did you let Bakugo know yet? You know he needs those villain updates as soon as possible.”

He waved his hands to stop the questions. “No, I didn’t tell him yet but it wasn’t… I don’t know if it was villains.”

The redhead’s eyebrows knitted together. “Then what was so weird?”

“Right before you radioed me near the end of patrol I was finishing notes on some shady people around the shop when this lady and kid stepped out. They both looked, I don’t know, greasy? And she was dressed warm while the little boy she was with was shivering in just a tshirt.”

“That’s not exactly our kind of suspicious, dude, but we can—"

“But the fact that she looked like Chiasa is suspicious!”

Kirishima froze, whispering, “What?”

He nodded. “She looked like Chiasa with longer hair.”

“With… with a kid?”

“Yeah, little dark-haired kid that kept scratching at his arms and neck. I felt so bad for the little guy, he looked so cold—”

“Kaminari, focus!” Kirishima said harshly, cutting off his rambling. “We need to tell Bakugo. Even if it’s not her, he needs this lead. He has to see it through. On the off chance it is actually her… I don’t even know how he could react.”

“Plus she has a lot of explaining to do about where she’s been,” Kaminari sighed. “It’s been so long.”

Kirishima nodded sadly. “It has, but we need to let Bakugo lead on this. Whether or not it was really her and will get him closer to finding her, I don’t know. But he needs to do this. It’s the only way for him to move forward.”

Closing their lockers, they gathered their bags and made their way to their small shared office. The day being fairly quiet aside from the two brunettes being sighted allowed them to finish their patrol reports quickly and send them to Bakugo for his review.

They knew he waited until all reports were received to begin looking them over and they had never been more grateful for Mina’s inability to focus, knowing for a fact that she was always the last person to submit her reports. Passing her still in costume talking animatedly to the sidekicks about their day let them know that this time wasn’t going to be any different. It allowed them to speak with Bakugo before he had to read the information and hopefully let them do damage control too.

Hikari was just leaving his office as they came to the doorway, a tired smile on her lips as she shuffled the papers in her hands.

Kaminari knocked on the doorframe as she passed them to head back to her desk and without looking up was called in by their friend and boss.

“What?” he grunted, continuing to loosen his gauntlets to set them aside. Unlike the rest of them he preferred to write his reports before changing completely.

Kaminari cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling Kirishima’s hand on his shoulder for support. As long as he’d known Bakugo and been on the receiving end of his temper and explosions, this had to be one of the most nerve-wracking conversations he was going to start.

“I’ve got some news from my patrol today.”

Red eyes snapped up to meet his. “Villains at the tea shop? What happened? Was it in your report? You never called for backup and I know we didn’t have anyone detained in any of our sectors.”

He spoke quickly, his shoulders tensing with each word as he prepared himself to don his gauntlets once again to find whoever was stirring up trouble in his agency’s territory.

“No, no, it was just an observation but I wanted to tell you about it in person—”

“Then spit it out!”

“I think… I think it’s possible that I saw Chiasa come out of the tea shop with a little dark-haired boy. I’m not one-hundred percent sure if it was her but it sure as hell looked like her.”

Bakugo stood rigid behind his desk. Over four years of not a single clue as to where she was or if she was safe and now she reappeared right in his agency’s backyard. If it was her.

He would pull all the surveillance he could find in the area based on Kaminari’s report and go through it with a fine-toothed comb. He would know if it were her. There was no one he knew better.

If he decided it was her then their patrol routes were about to get a shakeup and he was about to get answers years in the making. But that was for him to know, at least for now.

“I’ll review your report. Send Hikari back on your way out and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said evenly.

The two other heroes exchanged surprised looks, expecting a much bigger reaction than a few long moments of silence. They watched him sit down and start his computer, his body language tense but not to the level they had anticipated.

“You don’t want to—”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he repeated, eyes flicking up to see their stunned faces. He watched them blankly until they seemed to take the hint ad turned to leave.

He sat alone typing his report after making his request to Hikari to go through the proper channels for the surveillance footage he wanted and warning her that he would likely need more after reviewing Kaminari’s report. She didn’t seem to mind, letting him know that she would tell him as soon as the requested film came in.

So until then he sat in his office allowing himself to grasp onto this small straw of hope, holding tight to the first real evidence he’d had in years that he might be able to use to bring her home.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

12 notes · View notes

wolf-with-a-pen · 3 years

Text

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 1

TW: Death, Unreality, Swearing, Main Character Death, Angst?

Masterpost, Next

Tell me if I have missed a trigger warning, ask if you would like me to tag this with anything, and I hope you enjoy.

If you don't like any of the triggers above, this is sort of a prequel so you can skip to Part 2, unless you don't like angst, then it is even worse.(Edit:Looking at part 2 its worse, and you don't lose many of the above so just dont read it I guess.)

Word Count: 3962

FOR EDWARD it was a normal day. Well as normal and as close to a day as you could get in heaven. Everything merged into one- nobody knew how long they had been there, and nobody could know unless they saw the passing of the days in the simulation they called "Earth". There were few who remembered, and even less you could approach or talk to without putting yourself in danger. Edward was not one of these. They were unable to see Earth- or even anything other than the blank canvas created for the angels to roam, a few small civilisations created by the guardians for those who were more homesick the only solid thing on the landscape. Nobody knew why it was that way. Nobody dared ask. Everyone ignored it, hoping that it would not hurt them. It didn't for the most part. But then you could say the same about the Guardian Angels.

Cruel and soulless were the most common words used to describe the Guardians, and they were right on one count- they had no soul. Most people didn't remember the personalities of the people before due to most of the Guardians being the originals. The few that weren't were the first few to arrive from the simulation, to what they deemed to be "heaven". And so, the simulation continued. Even after death. The few that did remember the Guardian's original selves were so withdrawn you could not find them if you tried. They were the only ones that knew what happened to turn all of the people like that. But they refused to answer, they knew something that was so dangerous, if they told someone they would die. So, they didn't. Everyone wondered. Nobody realised that they would find out. Nobody could have predicted it.

It was the 4th of May. For once Edward knew that. But then, every now and then they paid a visit to one of the old ones. Just to visit, check in on them. Most knew one or two and how to find them. Some became friends. Some of those searching disappeared. It was the way it was. No, the day was definitely the 4th. He remembered that vividly - who could forget with what happened that day. It started as per usual- with Ansel being an idiot as usual. After being abruptly woken up, they managed to shout a few swearwords to get him out of their room, and laid back down. Well, as well as you can when you and your bed is soaked. “Again?” they thought clambering out of bed and heading into the bathroom. “I guess it’s one of the downsides of siblings.” For Ansel was his younger brother- not by much mind you, but he still enjoyed pranking and annoying his sibling at any chance he got. Edward didn’t really mind. Not that much. Sure, he was a pain, but they loved him more than they would admit. Once they managed to dry themself off (for the third time that week) they got dressed, and ready. One of the downsides of heaven is every surface is blank and almost certainly not reflective- nobody knew what they looked like except from other’s perspectives or how they remember what they looked like on Earth. Edward died long enough ago they forgot what they looked like. They didn’t mind though. It doesn’t really matter when you’re trapped in a void.

“Idiot,” Edward reprimanded jokingly, ruffling Ansel’s short wavy hair.” If you weren’t my brother you would be dead by now.”

“Is that a threat?”

“So what if it is?”

"You know you won't win Mx Long Neck. "

"Don't be so sure Mr Witch Hazel. "

"Now you have done it!" Ansel smirked, running head first into Edward, knocking him to the ground with his force. Within minutes they were both laid on the floor in a pile on top of each other, exhausted and looking rather dishevelled - no serious wounds beyond some of Edward's pride (as predicted, he lost). It would heal pretty quickly. It always did. Well, usually.

"You win this time, but I will win eventually. That is a warning." Edward threatened, smiling.

"Maybe, but not any time soon."

"Don't be so sure." Edward replied." You ready to go? "

"Yeah, just need to put the gifts in the basket."

"OK, I'll help. "

They stood up, Ansel springing to his feet, Edward taking more time.

"Hurry up, the quicker we leave the quicker we can see Jojo"

"Excited are we?" Edward teased.

"Of course I am, we only see him once in a while."

"Come on then, we've got a Jojo to meet."

It was an hour later they arrived, gifts and food in tow. It always took too long in Ansel's opinion, but that was the way Joseph liked it- to live on the outskirts of society. His house was out of the way, and cosy looking, almost like a cottage. It was short and thatched - similar looking to a Victorian house but in cottage form. Outside there were plentiful flowers, almost always in bloom. Having no seasons did have its benefits. Gardening was always easy and possible. Plants always looked healthy. Jojo (as his friends called him) took this to his advantage. A quaint little chimney was always spilling out smoke, even when the fire was off. Edward always felt at home and loved the little place. It always reminded them of their childhood home. Joseph himself, was an older man- he had managed to live until his body gave up of old age. It showed on his face- it was slightly more weathered and worn than some of the others and he looked like he had seen a lot. Despite all this, when he entered heaven he was reverted back to closer to how he looked when he was most happy, therefore he had the appearance of a teenager, twinged with some of the feature of an older man. He wore a wide brimmed hat on his mop of dark brown hair, which framed his emerald eyes. Always, he would wear on a short sleeved shirt with long trouser shorts.

Quickly, they walked up to the front door, eager to see one of their few friends- most people couldn't handle their personalities. Knocking, they heard Danny, Jojo's grandfather's childhood best friend and Great Dane begin to bark: clearly he was as excited to see them as they were to see him. Before Joseph could even get to the door, Danny had managed to open the door- one of his many talents- and jumped up at the pair, resting his paws on their shoulders and giving them a thorough 'hello'. "Hello boy," Edward murmured, in the way all people do when talking to animals and children. "I've missed you too.

"Danny! Let our guests come in! I'm sure they don't want to stand in the doorway all day." A familiar voice rang out, Danny instantly obeying, running back inside and sitting by the sofa. "It’s good to see you again, although the gap was a little bit longer than last time. Anyway, come on in, we have a lot of time on our hands, and a lot to catch up on."

"Thank you Joseph, " Edward replied, always polite as possible.

"Thanks Jojo," replied Ansel who was not.

Both entered the house, bringing the gifts and placing them in the hallway, before entering the living room and sitting down. It was how they remembered it. The sofa was opposite a brick looking fireplace and against the wall of the old wooden stairs, which lead to the front door. In front of them was a rug, square and red on the wood floor, with an armchair at each end. To the left was door, leading directly to the dining room, and to the right was a window, with an immediate view of the garden and the void around them. The rest of the house was a mystery to them- they didn't need to go in there so they didn't. Ansel secretly wanted to but he was sensible enough to not try to sneak around and see what Jojo was hiding.

It was a few hours later when he had asked. “What day is it Jojo?” Ansel inquired, “I assume you know.”

“Of course I know,” Jojo replied, unfazed by his straight to the point nature,” but do you want to come and see for yourself this time?”

“Would I!”

“If you wouldn’t mind it Jojo, I think we would both like that,” Edward inputted

“Sure, I don’t mind. Come on let’s go, heel Danny.” Jojo commanded, standing up and heading for the door. Danny sprung up and followed, looking expectantly at the pair of brothers, both of whom were excited, once he had caught up to his master. He knew he wasn’t his original master, but knew he was as close as he would get, and adopted him as his own, obeying every command. Edward and Ansel followed close behind as they set out on their trip. Once they left the house, Jojo warned them not to touch anything over the other side and not to get too close or it would alert the Guardians to their presence. They both agreed not to. Only one would remember. Carrying just a small picnic they set off, covering large amounts of blank flat ground in just a short time- they went through areas they had never seen before, met some people in the other civilisations before finally arriving at the final outpost, an intimidating tower and wall separating heaven, hell and earth. It was one of the only textured buildings in the entire place and was a distinctive shade of mauve that instantly drew the eye. At the front it had a window not dissimilar to that of a drive-through.

“Brought your apprentices this time Joseph?” questioned the guard, an intimidating but polite woman from within the window. Behind her was a smaller person, attempting to hide behind its short bob length hair, wearing clothes most of the angels wouldn’t dare wear (although they are allowed to wear anything, most avoid black and darker colours due to guardians not liking them). It was wearing a black shirt with a lilac ascot and black jeans. Edward hadn’t seen anything like it around the area, and for some unknown to them reason, found that comforting. They ignored that thought.

“Yes, I have,” Jojo replied, turning to Edward and Ansel. “Edward, Ansel, meet Biff and behind her is Isi, the recordkeeper for all of the people who cross the border. Isi, Biff, meet Edward Longneck Smith and Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith."

"Pleasure to meet you," Edward stated.

"Hi!" Ansel exclaimed, "You look cool!"

"Thank you," Biff replied, "it's a pleasure to meet you too."

"Hi," Isi timidly replied. "It’s nice to meet you. We don't usually see new faces around here. I have marked you all down, you can go through now if you're ready."

Joseph thanked them, before moving to the door and turning around. "Come on you two."

Edward and Ansel followed quietly.

Across the border was nothing like they were expecting or had ever seen. A spherical plain room, bright white on one side (the side they came through) and black on the other opposite them. In between those two sides, were the realms the demons and angels watched over, one that was instantly recognisable to them as earth, and about 3 visible other realms that none of them could name. Ansel was left speechless by the wonders he saw- a rare occurrence- and both could barely believe what they saw in some of the other realms. But most of all they saw themselves. For the first time in what seemed to them forever, they could see their reflection in the sphere.

Both studied themselves, memorising their appearance, knowing they might not get this chance again. Edward had a medium brown mop of hair, slightly curly and quite long, especially in comparison to Ansel, whose hair was shorter and a light copper brown, though it was still wavy. Both had brown eyes – Edwards a startling bronze-amber colour, Ansel’s a more chocolate brown, but still had an amber undertone that couldn’t be ignored. One thing Edward had remembered is why they got their nickname- Longneck. Both had normal necks, but Edward’s was slightly (honestly, quite a bit) longer, and to them it was noticeable. Ansel’s face was rounded, but Edward noticed theirs was slightly more defined. Looking down, they saw their clothing: white jeans and a grey button up shirt, with a pair of fairly plain dark grey trainers, that looked pretty worn.

At this point, they looked back to where their brother’s reflection was, only to be met by the abyss. “Look Longboi, it’s Ash!” They heard from behind them. “And she’s visiting our graves!”

“Wait, really?” Edward blurted out, shocked that it would show them someone they knew, and that they actually remembered them. Quickly, they turned on their heels and sprinted over to where Ansel was now stood, staring intently through the sphere. “Wow, it really is her.”

“I know, didn’t she hate us at one point?

“Yeah, but once I died I watched her and they appeared to regret what she did.”

“That’s good, she finally understands her actions have consequences, and not everything is about them.”

“Yeah. Shame she didn’t learn it earlier, I wouldn’t have objected to being friends with them, her personality was nice when she wasn’t being an asshole.”

“I noticed that too.”

Down below Ash was crouched down, placing flowers on the two graves next to each other. Their eyes were a similar shade of brown to Ansel, but her hair was a much darker brown and straight, cut at shoulder length except for a centre parted fringe. Black was all they were wearing, I mean it is typical of people to wear black when in mourning or to pay respects, but it was a change – most people hadn’t seen her in anything other than bright colours, and the two had never seen her in anything so not revealing as what they were. Instead of her old show-all-the-skin-possible outfit, she was wearing a dress, still short but more concealing, and it was simpler than the outfits they remembered. “I am sorry. I hurt you, and why? Just because I was jealous. I apologise for all I did to you, and I promise in the two years you have been gone, I have changed.” Ash stated.

“Only two years?!” They exclaimed, surprised at the lack of time they had spent there.

“Yes, only two years.” Jojo answered.

“Wow.” Ansel murmured.

“I forgive you,” Edward stated, towards Ash despite knowing that she wouldn’t hear. They turned around and begun to study the other realms. “Can you tell me a bit more about these realms I haven’t seen Jojo?”

“Of course Edward, which do you want to start with?”

Ansel had zoned out at this point, drawn towards the portal to Earth. “It wouldn’t hurt if I go through it. Just for a second to tell Ash we forgive her, and then come back. They wouldn’t notice, I mean they are distracted.” Ansel thought. He made sure that nobody was watching, before tentatively stepping through the portal. Quickly he said “I forgive you” and left before Ash could notice he was there. When he got back, he saw Ash looking around her, before quickly leaving, spooked by his voice. He saw Edward looking and knew he was in trouble, but not how deep he was from that one small action. I mean, it was harmless, wasn’t it? He re-joined the group and acted as if he had been there the whole time.

When Edward has a chance to confront their brother, it was an hour or two later- Jojo had walked them through everything he knew about the 4 realms, or as much as he was able to in the time they had, and as such left them no time to talk to him. It was on the way home that the had a chance- Jojo led them to a park before heading home to get a picnic for them, as a reward for accompanying him. “Why did you disobey him? He said not to touch anything or go into the other realms.”

“I don’t know why, I just felt drawn to it in a weird way.”

“I believe you, you wouldn’t lie about something like this, but just be glad that nobody else saw, if you were found out, you would be in massive trouble, not just with Jojo, but with the border guards and also possibly the Guardians. Be more careful. I don’t want to lose you.” Edward lectured, but that sort of lecture you know is for your protection- the kind that you know is sensible and are likely to follow.

“I promise now, nothing like this will ever happen again.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the “day” was pretty peaceful and happy- they ate the picnic, played a bit in the park, and traipsed home, dropping Jojo and Danny at their home, before starting back themselves, taking their time for once. That was one of the good things. And one of the few things Edward would remember. However, to Edward that walk felt like agony. They had a feeling that something very, very bad would happen. The kind that can’t be averted, only postponed.

Once they got home, they could already tell something was wrong- for one, the door to the house was unlocked and open despite being locked when they left. Second the note taped across the entire doorway was kind of a bad omen. Only one group of people communicated that way. If you received one, you were unlikely to return. Ever. Edward signalled for Ansel to stay where he was, before carefully walking towards the house, stopping just about where they could read the note. “Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith must come to the Guardian’s temple as soon as possible.” Edward instantly felt fear flood through his body, adrenaline joining it shortly after. “Ansel, they know!”

“Wait, what?!”

“They! Know! Ansel! They have summoned you!”

“No, they can’t. They can’t can they. So that means..?”

“I’m scared that the answer to that is yes.”

“No, I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to become like them.”

“I don’t want you to become like them. Not now, not ever. But if you don’t go it may be worse for you. You may end up gone with no hope of recovery. It is better you go and face the current consequences than disobey further and get punished worse. I am sorry, there is no way out- they can track you through all of the realms. I can’t promise you you’ll be safe, but I can promise I will find a way to fix this place, and save you, even if it kills me.”

“Alright. It makes sense. I still don’t like it. But it makes sense. Can we spend some time together before I go?”

“Yes, Ansel, want to go inside and watch some TV before you go?”

“Please.”

It was at this point they both trudged indoors, attempting to keep how fearful and emotional they were from each other, because both of them knew that Ansel would be lucky to make it out alive. That was the guardian’s way. Both knew this. The tension was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. If Ansel wasn’t so worried, he probably would have tried. But he didn’t.

“I am going with you,” Edward insisted.

“You sure?” Ansel tentatively asked.

“Nothing could dissuade me.”

“Thank you Longneck.”

“You’re welcome Witch Hazel.”

They set off, through the village. All of the people had seen, all of them knew one or both of them had been summoned. Most looked with pity. Or anger. Or disappointment. Or all of them. Or none of them. But they were all there. Watching as they traipsed into the distance. Wondering if anyone would come back. Wondering if they did come back – would they still be the same people.

It took a long time to reach the Guardian’s court. For the siblings, not long enough. Anything to drag out the experience, the walk up to the place they may not return from. It was a towering Parthenon-style building, built in glowing white and much larger than it needed to be. At the entrance stood 2 statues of what they presumed to be some of the different interpretations from the different realms they ruled of what an “angel” looked like. As they got closer they realised they were not statues as such; they moved and talked as if they were alive. Once they got to the door, they tried to enter the building, but failed. The angels stopped them. Pointing to Ansel, they boomed “Only he may pass.”

“I guess this is where we part.”

“I guess it is.”

“See you on the other side.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ansel murmured, before crossing the blockade created.

“Ansel, I’ll miss you,” Edward spoke out loud, as they watched him disappear from view.

Normally, Edward would have stopped there and waited, but today they felt braver than usual. Probably because they knew their brother was at risk, but they decided to return the favour of doing something stupid and reckless. Guessing from the way the angels were made, they were unable to move, and so as long as they stayed out of range of them, they could sneak in through the side of the building. Making sure the angels believed they were walking off, back where they came from, they circled around to the side of the building, gaining a view of inside the building. All of the guardians were in a circle around Ansel, who was looking rather like a deer in the headlights. Most of the people Edward didn’t recognise, but one they recognised from visits and checks on the village. The one thing the guardians had in common- their eyes were pure white, no pupil or iris. Apart from that, they were anyone. All different ethnicities, ages and genders. All different. All to be feared. Edward watched on as they all linked hands, creating a barrier around all of them, one that they could see, but not touch or get anywhere close to. Glowing white tendrils surrounded all of them, snaking threateningly inwards- towards Ansel. Eventually they all linked together forming a bubble around him that gradually shrank around him, disappearing from view, before bursting back out again. Only this time, the bubble was filled with a glowing ball of light, that blinded anyone who could see it. It disappeared into the sky, leaving Ansel laying on the floor.

Intimidatingly, a creepy voice boomed “Now you have lost your soul, rise Guardian Ansel and join us.” The body on the floor, snapped open it’s eyes, revealing a lack of pupil and iris, with a chilling look, before calmly standing up and facing the voice, which Edward could not see the face of. Floating, the new Guardian made its way into the crowd, joining it in standing to attention. “Now then, go find more suitable candidates, we need to expand the army if we want to destroy earth and hell. Soon, all of the realms shall be ours, and nobody will be left to fight back.”

“Yes master,” replied all of the Guardians in union, instantly setting off to perform their wishes.

Edward couldn’t look anymore, and they knew if the guardians found them they’d be in trouble, so they turned and left. Alone and hurt. No family left.

#Knockin' On Heaven's Door #tw death #tw main character death #tw swearing mention #tw unreality #tw angst #original content

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wolfpawn · 4 years

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Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 2

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Raven starts to work for Loki but it is not long before she is tested and is forced to remain calm in fear of revealing herself.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j @alexakeyloveloki @myblissfulparadise - it won’t let me tag you.

Request if you wish to be tagged

Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious.

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless.

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more.

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke.

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed.

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it.

The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father.

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him.

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath.

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so.

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were.

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake.

#Hiding in Plain Sight #chapter 2 #loki fic #wolfpawn

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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Up in Flames chapter 16 - Villain (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 4105

( Previous )

His battle protocols had had the time to activate, and as always when he went under with them running, coming back up wasn’t a slow, peaceful climb into consciousness.

It was a violent whiplash that had every system roaring to life simultaneously, no time wasted on testing if everything even still worked.

Sunstreaker’s optics snapped open to the bright orange ceiling of the Ark, and he shot to sitting immediately after, his frame primed for a fight and very eager to remind him of the circumstances of how he’d lost consciousness.

As it was though, there was no immediate threat around him that he could see. He was… In the brig, the glowing energy bars of that particular cell trapping him inside.

That wasn’t too much of a surprise considering how he’d gotten snatched. The Autobots had rightly assumed that he would not have gone willingly if they’d just asked nicely.

They had also assumed rightly that he wouldn’t hang around if given the option to leave. That option clearly wasn’t given to him now. For whatever reason—and it could be no reason that would end well for him—they wanted him here, and were ready enough to force the matter by locking him up entirely.

This couldn’t be good, not for him, and… Not for the sparklet. Maybe especially not for the sparklet. Sunstreaker couldn’t stamp down on his anxiety before the little one had already responded, vibrating in his chamber, next to his own spark, in a way it hadn’t before. These weren’t good emotions, like were really all of the ones it had gotten to experience so far.

Figures it would be the Autobots to provide it with its first negative impressions of life.

Had his spark felt any calmer, he could have tried to calm it, but pits, he wasn’t exactly calm himself. There was anxiety, some poorly articulated fear, but more than anything, there was his ever familiar anger. This sparkling was no stranger to that after every time Megatron had annoyed him, sometimes some of the other ‘Cons, but this time there was no… Thrill to go with it. No enjoyment under it, like he would have enjoyed Megatron’s attention even if the mech was driving him nuts.

None of the enjoyment of delivering some hurt to whichever ‘Con was aggravating at the time, usually in the training ring.

This was just anger, and fear, and anxiety—and, maybe, helplessness.

How helpless was he, really? A quick scan of his systems at least confirmed they’d locked his subspace, and pits, done who knows what to him while he was under. Sunstreaker quickly pulled up his logs, rubbing at his chest as he did. It wasn’t altogether comfortable to feel the sparkling twist and turn, nervous itself, even if it didn’t really understand what the threat was.

The plating of his chassis wasn’t smooth under his servo, not with the gash Megatron had dug across his insignia. His servo caught on the rough edges of it and made it impossible to forget how much he wasn’t an Autobot anymore. These weren’t friendly hands that had captured him.

And that was what they’d done. Captured him. Kidnapped, really.

They’d rooted around his systems, too. His physical readings had been looked at, armor shifted around presumably to have a look underneath—his coding hadn’t been tampered with, no fixes had been attempted, but he had more recent logs of diagnostic runs, and traces of the opening of several bits of programming. Not for edits, clearly, but for viewing.

Quite many of those related to the carrier protocols Hook and Ratchet had already looked at. Many other readings that had been viewed belong to the systems keeping tabs on the sparkling.

A medic’s signature had been left behind, too. Sunstreaker feared the worst when he looked at who had rooted around his frame while he was unconscious, but… It wasn’t Ratchet.

First Aid.

Sunstreaker growled to himself. He didn’t know why Ratchet wasn’t the one to have examined him, but some part of him was relieved he hadn’t… Really, breached their trust like that. Maybe he shouldn’t trust Ratchet anymore, but slaggit, he did anyway, at least to an extent. They didn’t belong to the same side anymore, but Ratchet had ethics and a personal code he followed.

They didn’t belong to the same side anymore. Had they and Sunstreaker would have only considered it natural he’d have taken a look at his systems. That was what medics did.

But now, that consent didn’t exist. Were they enemies? He wasn’t a Decepticon either, so maybe not.

But they were not comrades, or allies.

First Aid, clearly, hadn’t cared about details like that, although Sunstreaker wondered under whose bidding he’d performed the rather thorough examination on.

He wasn’t distracted enough by his internal investigation to miss the sound of someone moving to the outside of his cell, and he definitely didn’t miss the shadow cast they cast with the corridor lights behind them.

Sunstreaker lifted his gaze, glaring even before his optics landed on… Ironhide. The twin threw his legs off the side of the small slab of a berth just as Ironhide brought one servo to the side of his helm. “He’s up.”

Oh, they were waiting on him, were they?

Ironhide’s servo dropped, and so did his optics—landing on Sunstreaker’s servo on his chassis, still trying to ease the physical sensation of the sparkling’s growing distress as his mood only soured further instead of providing relief to the little thing.

Somehow Sunstreaker really didn’t appreciate the scrutiny, and let his arm slip away, doubling his glare. Ironhide didn’t look away right away, though, instead frowning at his chassis—and the insignia he still wore, but only to show he no longer belonged to that side.

“The slag you looking at?” Sunstreaker snapped once he got tired of the staring. Ironhide jerked from whatever trance he’d fallen into and looked up at him, in the optic for a fragging change. He opened his mouth to say something, too, but before he could, there was commotion from outside the main doors to the brig. Even Sunstreaker could hear it.

It wasn’t quite yelling, but it was clear enough there was an argument. He couldn’t make out all of the words, really, none of them—except some of those spoken by a voice that he couldn’t mistake.

Ratchet. The medic was rather vocal right then, as he always was when he was angry. Was he angry now? Sounded like so. Sunstreaker tuned his audials to listen in, but he could still only catch snippets. “–The stress you’re putting him under–!

“No!

“This is insanity–!

“I’m the physician–!

“Slag no!

“–let me–!”

“–Do not have my support!”

Then it ended. Sunstreaker could imagine Ratchet’s angry march as he left. He could definitely hear the stomping that always accompanied that.

The doors to the brig opened after. It wasn’t as if Sunstreaker could see who it was from where he was, but he didn’t need to guess for long because his visitors made their way straight to him.

Ratchet wasn’t among them, of course he wasn’t. Ironhide nodded at the arrivals—at Optimus, at Prowl, at Jazz.

High command then, basically. Sunstreaker got to his pedes, not particularly feeling like being shorter than everyone else. Upright and the only one who still managed to tower over him was the goddamn Prime. “Should I feel honored little old me is getting so important visitors?” he asked oh so sincerely, crossing his arms over his chassis and glaring some more.

But not before he was sure everyone had gotten a real good look at his chassis, his ruined insignia. Yeah yeah, ogle away, what did he care! What the slag were they expecting? That he would’ve no longer had an insignia at all? That he’d have a Decepticon one instead?

Honestly, both were probably fair assumptions, just not very… Megatron.

And still, despite the fucking fact he hadn’t been an Autobot for quite a few months, still, fragging still both Prowl and Ironhide saw fit to give him a disapproving look. For what? His slagging disrespect? Cry him a river, they all had it coming after this. Sunstreaker revved his engine, angrier by the second—and the sparkling growing ever more restless, until his core was really starting to feel too small for the both of them and he had to fight the urge to go back to rubbing his chestplates, despite the fact that did absolutely no good.

“I know these circumstances are less than ideal–” Optimus started, ever the diplomat, but Sunstreaker cut him off without fanfare or mercy.

“‘Less than ideal’? You fucking kidnap me and lock me in the goddamn brig,” he hissed, stepping up to the bars and craning his neck back to glare the Prime in the optic. “So would you fucking tell me what the frag is my crime this time?”

“Disregarding all of the events prior to your… Defection,” Prowl said, smooth and cool as ever. Sunstreaker transferred his glare at him, but then Jazz picked up where the SIC left off and that was yet another mech that deserved to be the recipient of his attempt at dropping them dead with his optics alone.

“There’s no crime, Sunstreaker,” was what Jazz had to say, but then he didn’t continue because Optimus spoke up again, and could they just fucking decide who was going to speak instead of transferring the script from one mech to another?

And what did Optimus say? “This is for your own good.”

Red. That was what Sunstreaker saw, besides the shadow creatures blotting out the edges of his vision. He laughed, although there wasn’t much humor behind the sound. “I knew it,” Sunstreaker said, his voice barely more than a guttural growl—words hardly there with the fucking anger that was really starting to get the better of him, and he was quickly losing the will to even try to fight it.

The sparkling flared, hard, and this time Sunstreaker uncrossed his arms to rub at his chest before he could think better of it. He continued all the same, “Optimus Prime, ever the altruist. So what the pit did I need saving from this time?” He was pretty damn sure he fucking knew already, but fragging Prime could spell it out for himself.

“We had reason to think your allegiance to Megatron is forced,” Prowl said, simply enough.

“And why’s that?” Sunstreaker growled, one unpleasant option quickly coming to the forefront. “Did Ratchet talk?”

“No,” Optimus said with feeling, as if he fragging cared how Sunstreaker felt about Ratchet, “Ratchet respected patient confidentiality. If he hadn’t…”

“You already know our concerns are valid, don’t you?” Prowl asked.

Sunstreaker stayed silent, only meeting the tactician’s optics without a waver. So, this was how it was always going to go, no matter what Ratchet had done? He didn’t talk, and they wanted to find out the answers for themselves.

He talked, and they’d have still done something, because their goddamn ‘concerns’ would have gotten validated by Ratchet’s findings.

“First Aid saw your protocols are active,” Optimus said, inclining his helm. There was worry—probably genuine—in his optics when Sunstreaker looked back at him.

“That don’t access my emotional cortex,” Sunstreaker snapped before Optimus could say any more. “I fragging know already.”

He also knew that wasn’t the issue.

“But they do make you predisposed to the sire,” Prowl confirmed as much. “Even without response from your emotional cortex, that is worrisome.”

Deep breaths. He wanted to fragging explode on the spot like a goddamn star going supernova, but… Oh, what the fuck was he expecting? That they’d listen to anything he’d say at this point?

What good would talking be? “Why didn’t Ratchet examine me?” he ground out anyway, because that was a point of real curiosity.

“Ratch refused,” Jazz responded. “He wanted nothing to do with this.”

Well, at least someone was doing the right thing. One fragging decent Autobot on the whole goddamn planet.

Optimus cleared his vocalizer, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. Sunstreaker cut him off again, though, right as the Prime was about to speak. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve said, several times, that I want to stay with the Decepticons?” he snarled, as much as he already knew the answer.

“We can’t be certain how much your protocols are affecting you,” Optimus said anyway. “I fear it is not truly your choice, but rather forced upon you by your coding—and by Megatron himself.”

“This is not my choice,” Sunstreaker hissed, leaning close enough to the bars that he could feel their heat on his faceplates, “being here. My choice is being with the Decepticons.”

“And Megatron plays no role in that?” Prowl asked, disbelieving.

“Our desires align.” They wouldn’t believe that though, would they?

“Could be that’s just the carrier coding talking,” Jazz pointed out.

Yeah, see, they didn’t believe slag.

“I find it hard to believe you would stay truly voluntarily, were you unaffected by your coding,” Optimus rumbled. Something about his tone had Sunstreaker focusing on him and frowning a little harder.

The Prime hesitated for a moment before he apparently chose to just bite the bullet and get on with it. “First Aid found many old injuries on your frame.”

And when you read between the lines?

Sunstreaker covered his face with his servos and fought the impulse to scream into them. The urge to not keep it together was real.

“I’ve sparred with the lot of them,” he said, firmly, once he dropped his servos again to give his continued glare an unhindered path. “That racks up some injuries.”

“And none of them are from Megatron?” Prowl again, ever the skeptic.

Sunstreaker growled. “I’ve sparred with him too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It wasn’t what he was asking and they all knew it. Things lapsed into silence for a moment, apparently none of them really comfortable with the topic. Well, Sunstreaker wasn’t going to try to make it any easier for them.

Fuck them all.

Prowl’s wings flicked, but he was eventually the one to continue. “That he abuses you is not a mere supposition.” The SIC was too good to let his voice lose its calm, but his doorwings still gave him off with the way they shivered. He did not want to be talking about this.

Looked like Sunstreaker was the only one who didn’t really care. “He took off your valve cover,” Prowl managed to force out anyway. And there it was. Their basis for assuming Megatron got a bit rough with him, which wasn’t a lie to begin with.

They just didn’t get it. “It’s called foreplay,” Sunstreaker kindly informed them, leaning back to cross his arms again. “You should try it sometime.”

“Sunstreaker,” Optimus said, and the twin reluctantly looked up at him. What now?

Nothing good, that’s what. “You don’t have to live under Megatron’s abuse. You don’t need to put up with it. You have other options.”

It sounded like he so very genuinely meant that.

“Like what?” Sunstreaker snapped. “Crawl back to the Autobots and beg for forgiveness? I wouldn’t fragging do that even if he was ‘abusing’ me—which he isn’t.”

“Kid, I know you’ve got your pride, but there ain’t anything shameful in admittin’ you’re sometimes in over yer head,” Ironhide said where he’d been quiet this whole duration.

That anger? It was quickly rising the same way it did when Megatron disregarded what he said because his his his sparkling, yada yada yada, and they went in circles around that topic until Sunstreaker caved—but this was worse. This wasn’t Megatron acknowledging that he wanted something different, and then overruling that want anyway.

This was the Autobots deciding he didn’t know what the frag he was talking about, that he was lying, that he didn’t know what he wanted– “Are any of you actually listening to me?” Sunstreaker demanded, passing his glare between all four of them, “Because it’s getting really fucking tiresome to get treated like my words don’t mean shit.”

“The matter of your protocols remains,” Prowl said. He said something more too, but Sunstreaker couldn’t hear it over the noise that fragging roared up in his audials at just that bit. He stumbled back a step, pressed a servo to his helm—blasted hot air from his vents as the shadow folk crept further into his field of vision. And touched him. He could’ve sworn they were there–

But then, as he cycled several ventilations and fought to maintain his control of himself, they receded, disappearing back into the ether they came from. He would’ve said they were gone, but no, they never really were.

Just less numerous, usually.

He ignored the traces of phantom pings on his sensors and lifted his gaze back up to see all four Autobots staring at him. Sunstreaker scowled.

“Your glitch’s worsened too, about since you started your tryst with ol’ Megs,” Jazz pointed out. “That don’t mean anything?”

It meant he had started to reconsider his stance regarding his glitch. Did he want to say that much, though? Talk about how drastically Megatron’s opinion of it differed from the Autobot sentiments? “Yeah, well, trying to keep that whole thing from becoming public knowledge was a bit stressful.”

With how little anyone was listening to him, he didn’t particularly feel like having his explanation regarding his glitch get ignored like everything else he said was getting ignored. Plus he’d probably just get preached at about the dangers of his glitch and how irresponsible it would be to let it out of control and whatever the frag else the Autobots were always so fragging eager to fill his audials with.

It was as if the Autobots wanted him to be ashamed of himself—of what he was.

He was a little slagging tired of that by now.

“What prompted you to fight Megatron during that one of your encounters?” Optimus asked. Right, how could he forget. The one encounter and the one fight the Autobots could genuinely claim to know of. Did they also know that was the time when he’d told Megatron about the sparkling and promptly gotten into an argument with him?

Getting into arguments with the mech was really the norm. Glitching while at it? Not that far out either. “He was annoying,” Sunstreaker gave his honest to Primus answer. And obviously, Megatron had needed to pay for that, and what better way than to go berserk and bring some unholy smiting into the game through his glitch? Sounded like a good way to him.

“You decided to fight Megatron, because he was annoyin’?” Ironhide asked incredulously.

Sunstreaker gave him a patronizing look. “Now, ‘Hide, you know me better than that. What other fragging reason have I ever needed to fight someone?”

“You had to know you couldn’ win,” Jazz said, like what wasn’t obvious to the whole world.

“Hasn’t really stopped me before, either.” Any more useless statements?

“You didn’t fight him because he was trying to interface with you?” Optimus asked. A slightly less dumb thing to say, considering it was Megatron.

But, “No, I didn’t fight him because he was trying to ‘face me,” Sunstreaker answered in the most mocking tone he could manage. Never let it be forgotten he was here not out of his own free will, but because some ass eaters had decided to snatch him right up and lock him up for good measure. If there weren’t bars between him and them, between him and freedom, he would’ve been gone a long time ago.

They really couldn’t expect his cooperation, considering the circumstances.

“Did he ignite you on purpose?” Prowl took the turn to ask. The tactician had probably been hard at work considering all of the possible ways things had gone and would go. How lovely it had to be to get some answers to things the Autobots really had had no way of knowing.

Why was he over here telling them this slag though? It was none of their fragging business.

“No. He was as surprised as I was,” Sunstreaker responded anyway. No doubt it wouldn’t make them vilify Megatron any less, but at least they’d know the slagging truth.

If they believed it, anyway. There were good chances they’d just think he didn’t know as well as he thought he did.

But they hadn’t been there to see Megatron’s surprise upon first hearing about it, and everything that had come after that really didn’t sit in line with the theory the tyrant had planned it all along.

“And you didn’t get ignited on purpose?” Prowl asked next. Sunstreaker rolled his optics as fucking hard as he could manage.

“No. What would I have even gained by doing that? My life’s a mess because of this whole goddamn accident.” He couldn’t say it hadn’t also improved, but frag, was he somehow supposed to foresee that much? He wasn’t a clairvoyant.

“Sunstreaker, I want you to understand you can still come back.” Optimus just loved to keep repeating that, without ever listening or accepting all of the reasons why that wasn’t true.

“No, I can’t. And more importantly, I don’t want to,” Sunstreaker said with as much emphasis as he could manage. “So if we’re done here, I’d really love to get back home already.”

Did he consider it home? He wasn’t sure yet, but the word sure had the intended effect of pulling a couple of surprised revs from his captors’ engines. Maybe it would drive the point home.

More likely they’d still go back to the carrier coding to gleefully point all the fingers at it and announce it meant Sunstreaker had no agency separate from the infernal protocols.

“I can’t let you return,” Optimus said, and oh, he probably really thought he was doing a good thing through whatever wrong and twisted logic he was employing. “I cannot subject either you or the innocent life you’re carrying to Megatron’s evil.”

What the fuck..?

“You fragging think,” Sunstreaker started, leaning back to the bars and keeping Optimus’ stare, “that he’d let anything keep him from it?”

The Prime’s optics hardened with resolve. “I’m willing to press the issue.”

“So’s he,” Sunstreaker pointed out, “and he’s not going to just stop after it separates, either. You ought to know him. He’ll hunt the damn thing to the edges of the world if that’s what it takes. You can’t keep him from it.”

“And you’re fine with all of this?” Prowl asked while Optimus mulled over what he’d said.

Sunstreaker shifted his gaze to the tactician and shrugged. “It was the deal we came to.”

“Deal? Did you actually have a say at any point?” Of course Jazz would quickly pick on little details like that. Sunstreaker glared at him, but unless he felt like lying, there wasn’t much he could say. He was fine with the conclusion they’d come to with Megatron, but no, he hadn’t really had any other options than to agree to what the warlord wanted.

But if he didn’t think it was an issue, it wasn’t really an issue, was it?

“The young one should have a right to its own freedom,” Optimus said now, apparently having sorted out his thoughts. “I have to protect that right.”

Ugh.

“What about my freedom while we’re at it?” Sunstreaker snarled, hitting the bars with one hand and ignoring the resulting burn. His plating was heat resistant anyway. It wouldn’t damage him severely. “That means nothing?”

“This is for your own good,” Optimus repeated, more firmly this time. “For as long as the carrier coding is active–”

“You’re letting your hatred of Megatron blind you!” Sunstreaker interrupted, hitting the bars caging him with both hands this time. “You can’t fathom that someone could be okay with him, understand him, be understood by him—all you can see is a mech you’ve made the nemesis of your world!”

All was quiet for a moment after his little outburst, four sets of optics staring at him with varying expressions. Surprise, confusion, concern… “What do you see in him, kid?” Ironhide asked, sounding a little wary—like he expected he wouldn’t like the answer very much.

“The sire of my sparkling,” Sunstreaker bit out, “who has the right to it.” As Megatron loved to remind him. Didn’t change it was true, though.

“Considering Megatron’s track record, it would be little short of unethical to let him his way with the sparkling,” Prowl said, frowning now. Right after Sunstreaker had just informed them of the obvious fact that Megatron would have it no other way.

The twin snarled at the lot of them. “Then what do you suggest?”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #optimus prime #prowl #jazz #ironhide #fic #2021 #ashes #up in flames

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elementalwriter67 · 4 years

Text

The Void Chapter Ten

Pairings: (eventual) Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 3308

Tag list: @wittedhat @clea-nightingale @grey-water-colors @reclusive-chicken-nugget @undertheredhood

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7a, 7b, 8, 9

Summary: The Void is a hellish place filled with screams that echoed throughout the place at all the hours of the night, and where pain is a very close friend. You’ve spent your entire life in the Void, having been there since you were ten and you’ve just recently gotten a new cellmate… Who’s a little more hopeful than you are that either of you are going to make it out of this place alive. Though you have to admit that maybe his hope is rubbing off on you because you slowly find yourself hoping that the two of you do get out of here.

“Selina? What are you doing here?” Dick asked as him and Roy walked up the stairs to the upper layer of the Batcave where Selina was standing with the others around the Batcomputer.

“I ran into Bruce when he was going to investigate Falcone, he filled me in on what’s been going on.” Selina’s voice tense as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Do you know about the Void?” Roy asked and Selina nodded.

“Course I do, every villain in Gotham knows about the Void and they were people that I was hoping you would never have to deal with, yet here we are.” She said the tenseness leaving her voice and being replaced with a bitter resentment as she looked towards the screen where Tim was messing around with video feeds.

“Did you two find the van that matches the tire tracks at the hospital?” Tim asked, interrupting whatever conversation they could have continued to have.

“Yep, we got the picture of the licence place like you asked.” Dick said as he pulled out his phone. Tim snatched it out of his hand and tapped at the screen a couple of times before handing it back to Dick.

“Alright, cool, do you want to tell me what that was all about or what?” Dick asked, looking between Tim and the others.

“Well after we got back from checking the Rich guys house, he was a serial killer by the way had a whole as torture room down in the basement really fucked up, Tim decided he was going to take another crack at the security cameras in the area. Turns out on his first look through he missed something.” Stephanie said from where she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the computer.

“What did he-”

“They were on a loop. All of the security feeds in a two block area either way out of that alleyway were on a minute long time loop.” Tim answered Roy’s question. Roy’s brow shot up as he looked at the feeds.

“How did we miss that on the first watch through? We practically invented the use of loops, how the hell did we miss that?” Roy muttered as he walked up to the batcomputer leaning against the keyboard as he watched the feeds.

“Right so while those two figure that out, what did the rest of you find?” Dick asked looking away from those two and towards the others.

“Penguin checked out. One of his guys was on the other side of the city getting rid of a body, we’ve notified the GCPD of the bodies location.” Damian told him crossing his arms over his chest he glanced over at the computer, Tim and Roy muttering to each other as they both worked on the feeds.

“Black Mask’s van was busy being used for an arms deal near Amusement Mile to some low level gang from Los Santos at the time of Jason’s kidnapping. We’ve already notified the LSPD that one of their gangs are buying weapons from Black Mask.” Kate said and Dick nodded.

“What about Falcone Bruce?” Dick asked as he looked towards Bruce who was watching Tim and Roy closely.

“Falcone at the time was busy making a business deal with me and all of his men were there as far as I know. But Falcone isn’t one to make deals with the Void, I’m still honestly surprised that Scarecrow made a deal with them in the first place usually we all try to avoid the Void at all costs.” Selina stated her brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she thought over it.

“Guess they managed to make a deal with him that he couldn’t refuse.” Dick said and Selina hummed going to open her mouth to say something but before she could Tim spun around violently in the chair.

“We got the original videos.” Tim stated before he swung back around to face the screen.

“I’ll give this to the Void those fuckers are thorough as fuck. They buried the original video feeds so damn deep into the system that they’re almost impossible to find. Almost.” Roy said as he typed on the keyboard while Tim did something at the other end of the control panel for the computer.

“If they’re so thorough, why bury the original feeds? Why not just delete them and be done with it?” Selina asked as she stepped up to the computer.

“Oh they did, but because you can never truly delete something that’s on any form of online they had to bury any possible trace that they could have left.” Tim said as he slid back over towards Roy, who stepped out of the way letting him take back over.

“And because of that we’ve got traffic feeds of the van as it’s leaving the alleyway, a traffic feed that just so happens to contain the licence plate of the van.” Tim said as he forwarded the feeds to the exact moment where you can see the licence plate as the van was driving away. Tim zoomed in on the image, clearing it up to properly display the licence plate.

“Are you-”

“Yes we’re running it through the Gotham city system right now, we’re just waiting for a hit.” Roy interrupted Barbara before she could finish and before anyone could say anything else the computer made a sound.

“And those would be the results.” Tim muttered as he wheeled himself back over to the other side of the computer tapping a couple of buttons as the results popped up on the screen. And everyone’s shoulders slumped almost immediately at the sight of the results.

“They don’t match.” Tim breathed out falling back in the chair as he stared up at the screen.

“They don’t… they don’t… they don’t fucking match?! They don’t fucking match!” Roy shouted as he stared at the screen in complete and utter disbelief his jaw slack and eyes wide.

“But… but… how?... How is that possible?! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?” Dick shouted slamming his hands down on the computer making everyone jump.

“I don’t get it! The tire tracks match the van, they match, so how the hell do the plates not match?” Tim asked as he started running it through the system again, only for it to come back a few moments later with the same results.

“Maybe they switched the plates?” Barbara offered as she shoulder Roy out of the way and started typing on the computer running the picture of the licence plate through the general system instead of trying to compare the two. Just as they started working again a ding sounded from the computer and everyone stopped in their tracks as they stared at the message that appeared on the screen.

“Tim.” Bruce stated taking a step towards the computer.

“On it.” Tim said as he started typing everyone taking a step back from the keyboard so he could work properly.

~The Void~

~Dr. Roberts~

“Dr. Roberts! Dr. Roberts!” A guard shouted as he jogged down the hallway, pushing past nurses and other doctors as he tried to get to Dr. Roberts.

“Give me one second please.” Dr. Roberts said to the nurse as he turned around an annoyed look on his face as he looked at the guard watching as he pushed passed as he finally reached the Doctor.

“This better be good Sanchez, I’m a little busy.” Dr. Roberts stated his voice firm and full of annoyance. The guard cleared his throat as he shifted his weight around.

“It is sir. Security found a message that was sent out from one of our computers, and you’re gonna want to see this.” The guard said and Dr. Roberts brows furrowed.

“And why is that?” Dr. Roberts asked his tone cold and the guard cleared his throat again.

“Security traced the origin of the message back to the computer that Subject 314695 broke during his escape attempt.” The guard said and Dr. Roberts tensed as he stood up straighter.

“We’ll continue our conversation later.” Dr. Roberts told the nurse as he started walking motioning for the guard to follow him down the hallway as they made their way towards the security room. People moved out of the way when they saw Dr. Roberts stalking his way down the hallway the guard having to jog to keep up with him.

The entire security room fell silent as Dr. Roberts walked into the room, everyone turning to face him silently staring.

“Well?! What the fuck does it say?!” Dr. Roberts shouted and everyone jumped into action.

“Over here sir!” The head of security called and Dr. Roberts made his way towards his desk. Leaning down against the desk Dr. Roberts eyes scanned over the message his face hardening as he stared at the screen rereading the message.

“Did this get out?” Dr. Roberts asked not looking away from the screen.

“No. He was able to get through the first firewall but the secondary one we put in place after he was grabbed managed to stop the message from getting out, barely. The wall took a massive hit apparently he had enough time to put a bug in the message that would eat through any other firewall that it came across.” The head of security stated and Dr. Roberts hmmed as he looked at the screen.

“Did he know about the second firewall?” Dr. Roberts asked and the head of security shook his head.

“No, we don’t think so. We’re guessing by the nature of this message he was attempting to reach his adopted father, the bug was meant strictly to get through that firewall judging by the quickly put together code. Our guess is that the message was meant to go through a backdoor in his security that would have been week enough for this coding to break through.” He said and Dr. Roberts nodded along with him a thoughtful look on his face as he stood up. Bringing his hand up he rubbed his chin while still staring at the screen, biting the inside of his lip as he thought.

“Ok. Save me a copy of the message, bug and all I want everything that comes with this message saved on a flash drive and then transferred to me, once that’s done send the message to its original destination.” Dr. Roberts said. The head of security’s eyes widened as they looked up at Dr. Roberts like the man had suddenly grown two heads.

“What?” The guy asked and Dr. Roberts looked down at him with any annoyed look on his face.

“Did I stutter?” Dr. Roberts asked and the guy rapidly shook his head as he turned to face the screen, typing at the keyboard.

“No, sir, it’s just that… are you sure that’s a good idea? This is most definitely being sent to Batman what if they manage to trace it back to us? What if they manage to find us?” The man asked and Dr. Roberts rolled his eyes.

“They won’t and even if they do it doesn’t matter we’ll be able to handle it so don’t worry about it. So do what I asked you. Now.” Dr. Roberts ordered as he stalked away from the guys desk and paused at the door looking to the two guards standing there.

“You two go get me subject 314695, now.” Dr. Roberts ordered as he walked out of the hall and towards the elevator the two guards jogging down the hallway in the other direction towards the stairs.

~Batcave~

“Well?” Dick asked as he stopped pacing the length of the room looking over to Tim, Barbra, and Roy who had stopped working the computer just seconds ago.

“It’s clean. Came in through the back doorway, the one that Jason usually uses.” Tim said turning around to face Bruce in the chair and Bruce hmmed as he looked at the screen.

“Do you think it’s actually from Jason?” Bruce asked before any of the others could say anything and Tim was silent for a moment as he glanced over at Roy and Barbara who looked back at him before looking at Bruce.

“We think it’s a possibility.” Barbara stated her hands clasped together behind her back.

“It is the same back door to your system that Jason always uses when he wants access to your computer, so it’s a pretty high possibility.” Roy added on and Bruce was silent for a moment everyone staring at him as they waited for him to respond.

“Open it master Timothy.” Alfred finally commanded when Bruce didn’t say anything after a couple of minutes. Tim spun around and clicked on the message opening it up.

“B, it’s JRH. Nabbed by Void. Dr. Roberts.” Tim read aloud as he stared up at the screen rereading the message about five times before anyone said anything.

“It's certainly from Jason that’s his short hand message technique. But how did he get a hold of a computer though to send the message?” Roy muttered as he reread the message trying to see if there was something hidden inside the message that might indicate something worse.

“Maybe he got a hold of someone’s cellphone?” Dick offered up and Selina shook her head.

“With how organized and careful they seem to be I doubt they would allow their people to have their phones on them when handling the people they captured, especially someone like Jason. Especially since they now know who we are, there’s no way they would let their people keep their phones.” Selina said watching as Dick began pacing again.

“It’s more likely that he tried to escape, and judging by the fact that he’s not currently walking through that door, it’s more than likely that he failed and there’s no telling what they do to people who fail in escaping.” Kate stated her arms crossed over her chest as she thought about all of this.

“Tim find who this Dr. Roberts is, what hospital he belongs to. Whichever one he works for will be the one that the Void is at.” Bruce finally said and Tim nodded as he moved the message to another screen and started typing again.

“What makes you think it’s actually the hospital Bruce? The plates don’t match the van we found at the hospital or any plate that we have in our system, plus Dr. means nothing that could just be what-”

“Found him!” Tim called out interrupting Dick’s anxiety fueled rant and Dick froze mid stride looking over at Tim.

“You’re kidding right?” Dick asked and Tim shook his head pulling up the information that he had found.

“Dr. John Roberts is the Dean and chief of staff over at Central Gotham Medical Center, it’s one of the smaller hospitals in Gotham’s lower side.” Tim said as scrolled through the web page on the hospital.

“Alright. Dick, Tim, Damian I want you two to head out to check out the hospital see what we’re working with, more importantly see if you can find any indication that the Void is located in the hospital or has any connection the hospital to begin with.” Bruce said and the three of them nodded as they got up and made their way over to the armory before heading out.

“The rest of us are going to work on coming up with a plan to infiltrate the hospital if this place really is connected to the Void then we’re going to need to be able to get into there without getting caught. They’ll be expecting us.” Bruce said as he walked over to the computer taking a seat as everyone started getting to work.

~The Void~

~Jason’s P.O.V~

Jason was sitting on the floor of your shared cell his back pressed against the wall next to the head of your bed with one of his knees pulled up to his chest so that his arm could rest on top of it. He had his head tipped back so that he could stare up at the ceiling a small smile on his face as he replayed a memory inside his head.

“I’m tellin ya (Y/N) you should have seen it I’ve never seen Alfred so mad at us before I swear I thought I saw my life flash before my eyes again.” Jason muttered with a small chuckled. He continued to stare up at the ceiling for a little bit remembering how the four of them had to sit through what had to have been four hours of lecturing for having had a paint ball war inside the batcave. Sighing he looked over at you the smile on his face turning bitter as he dropped his head down, properly looking at you.

“When you wake up maybe I’ll tell you this story again, so that way you’ll actually remember it.” Jason added on as he looked away from your face, watching as your heavily bandaged chest rose and fell for a couple of seconds before looking back at your face. He was silent for a couple more moments before sighing heavily again as he dropped his head and furiously scrubbed his hands through his hair. Dropping his head back against the wall he groaned heavily.

“Christ (Y/N), I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. This is all my fault. If I had just waited like you said, or hell if I hadn’t decided to try this in the first place then none of this would have happened to you. If I had just been a little better then maybe we would be out of here, but we’re not and it’s all my fault and I’m so, so, sorry (y/N). You were the last person I wanted getting hurt in all of this.” Jason mumbled as he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face. His heart clenched and his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the darkening bruises that littered your face and the twitch of your facial features when the tips of his fingers accidentally brushed against your black eye.

He had to make this up to you somehow, had to find a way to make this better, to show you that he was sorry about what happened, he had to do something, anything to show you he was sorry… Christ when had he gotten so attached to you? So concerned about what’s happened to you? Sure he thinks you deserve to get out of here because clearly you’ve been here and suffered more than anyone else here but there was no need for him to get this so attached especially since he knew so little about you. He’d never gotten this attached to anyone before, especially not someone he was trying to save and yet here he was caring far too much about you but not enough at the same time.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you never talked to me again, I know I deserve it for causing all of this but I just want you to know that-” Jason cut himself off as his gaze snapped to the door his body tensing as he saw the guards standing there.

Gritting his teeth Jason pushed himself up on to his knees, ignoring the flaring of pain as he moved to a standing position. His hands balled into fist at his side as he stepped forward so that he was between you and the guards. He watched them s they opened the door, a sneer forming on Jason’s face and a barely suppressed growl growing in his chest as he glared at them.

“Stay away from her.” Jason growled out and the guards shared a look before looking back at him.

“Get him.” One of the guards ordered and they all moved forward at one.

Jason growled again and took a step forward fully intending on attacking the guards but he was easily subdued one guard grabbing each of his arms and pulling him back and away from you as they forced his arms behind his back.

“No! No! You stay away from her you bastards! Stay away from her!” Jason shouted struggling against the guards even as they cuffed his hands behind his back. The three of them surprised at how much fight he still had in him despite the beating that he had gotten and the pain that he most certainly still feeling.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re not here for the little bitch. We’re here for you.” The first guard said and Jason’s brow furrowed as he stopped struggling and stared at the guard.

“What?” He asked and the guard smirked before punching him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and causing his knees to give out on him as he gasped for air.

“Get him out of here.” The guard said as he nodded towards the door and the other two guards nodded as they began to drag, Jason out of the cell the first guard following after them.

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emospritelet · 4 years

Text

Indulgence

Third part of my Original Sin verse, in which demon!Gold goes to seduce human!Belle with his balls full of demonic seed…

This was supposed to be ready for Halloween, and has been in the works since early September, but I was sick, so it was late. I tagged it mildly dubious consent on AO3, mainly because she doesn’t realise he’s serious when he tells her he’s a demon. Not sure that would make a difference to our girl, but I tagged it for safety.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [AO3]

Gold made his way slowly down the side street, the brass-handled cane he used tapping out a steady rhythm on the cracked stones. It was a dull, grey day, approaching dusk, but he still wore sunglasses with brown-tinted lenses, keeping what glare there was from his sensitive eyes. He much preferred to do business after dark, but humans were predictably reluctant in these matters. A cyclist passed at speed, spinning wheels throwing dead leaves and dirt into the air, and he stepped back calmly on one foot, the movement showing his lack of true need for the cane he carried. It was an affectation, a tool to make him seem smaller, less threatening. He wasn’t sure if it worked all that well, as the humans were still wary of him, but he had used the thing for years, and so he stuck with it. Besides, it looked good.

He paused outside an old three-storey building, looking it up and down as he gathered his thoughts. The place had been built in the 1920s, and held its own against its taller, more modern neighbours. A painted sign hung above the door, the curling letters black on a white background: Avonlea Books. A stone step marked the entrance, windows framed in pale blue displaying a collection of children’s books with shining covers, all concerning witches, vampires or ghosts. There was a display of paper leaves in red and gold, a carved pumpkin, and a stuffed black cat with green glass eyes curled beside an iron cauldron. Silver-grey strands of fake spider web stretched across the window, and Gold smiled to himself. Miss French was ready for Halloween, it seemed.

He had met the young bookstore owner quite by chance, when she had ordered a rare copy of Persuasion from him for her personal collection. Her initial email querying its provenance had been detailed and thorough, displaying a deep knowledge of the author and a true passion for reading. They had corresponded a few times before she had agreed to purchase the item, and she had displayed a wit and intelligence that had made him want to continue their interactions. She had intrigued him, had pricked at the depths of his dark soul in ways that he had rarely experienced, and he had found himself thinking of her at the strangest times. He had been due to travel to New York on other business, and so he had decided to deliver the book personally.

Miss French, when they met, had almost stolen his breath. She was delightful: a tiny ball of sunshine with the sort of pale beauty and inner fire that he found most alluring in humans, and could rarely find. She had made him tea, drunk as they sat in her tiny shop and discussed books, her scent making his mouth water and his skin burn with desire. The brief touch of her hand on his arm had sent shivers through him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to use his magic to sneak his way into her dreams and let her feel the pleasure he could give her. She was breathtaking.

He decided then and there that he would see her again, and so he had sought books that he knew she would like, taking the liberty of emailing her with news of his latest acquisitions in the hope of securing another meeting. He had travelled to New York on four separate occasions for the purpose, and Miss French greeted him with warm tones and a slight blush in her cheeks every time. Her scent had changed from that first meeting, becoming rounder, more musky, drifting into his nose and making his heart thud in his chest with the urge to taste her. She wanted him, he could tell. Perhaps as much as he wanted her.

He had already left his mark on her, a warning to others who might desire her that she was already claimed, that she was under his protection as long as the mark lasted. It was done by a press of his lips, a damp circle on the back of her hand as he took his leave when they last met. It amused him no end that the gesture was seen as old-fashioned and gentlemanly. Certainly Miss French had blushed adorably when he had done it, and stammered out her own goodbye. To others of his kind, though, it was a warning. One with serious consequences, if ignored.

Putting his mark on her also had the effect of opening up her mind. It wouldn’t create desire, and he would never have bothered if he thought she found him repulsive. But she was attracted to him, he knew that very well. His mark would let her desire take form, would let her darkest fantasies come to life in her mind. She would dream of him, although not the true dreams in which he could touch her, in which he could taste her. Denying himself that pleasure was exquisite agony.

He thought of her waking in the night, gasping and reaching between her legs to give herself the pleasure that the dreams promised. It was enough to make him swell and harden in his pants, and he licked his lips at the images his mind conjured. He wanted to touch her himself, to make her scream with pleasure. He wanted to taste her. The encounter with Lacey only hardened his resolve. She was the one, and he would have her.

In the end, it was she that called him. She was looking to buy additional stock for her little shop, and wanted to sell an early edition of Middlemarch. He was more than happy to take it off her hands. In the circumstances.

It had been two days before Lacey had visited him for their coupling, and knowing that he would have another purpose to his trip, Gold had delayed giving Belle a date for his arrival in New York. He left Storybrooke not long after Lacey had wandered out of his life, driving south in his Cadillac, travelling through the night and checking into his favourite hotel. He called Miss French that morning, informing her that he would be visiting the shop at five that evening to view the book.

She greeted him with a wide smile and a deep blush that made her blue eyes shine. A white shirt clung to her curves, cap sleeves baring her arms beneath a little red cardigan and the top three buttons undone to reveal the hollow between her breasts. Her legs were bare beneath the flared black skirt she wore, high heeled shoes giving her a few extra inches. He was surprised to see it in the winter weather, but the sight of her naked skin made his mouth water as he imagined running his tongue up her inner thigh, tugging her underwear aside to taste her. He licked his lips, and wondered if she could sense the desire he felt for her, burning deep in his belly. Her hand shook a little as he took it, and he bent to kiss her knuckles, breathing in her scent. There was an edge to it, a need, and he felt himself smile before he straightened up. Perhaps this would be easier than he had thought.

He pretended to study the book she handed him, making a show of bargaining over the price, although he had never intended to give her anything less than what she asked, and when the deal was done, he turned his attention to the true purpose of his visit.

“Well, Miss French,” he said, setting the book carefully in his briefcase. “It appears our business is concluded. A pity. I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

“So have I,” she said. “How long are you in the city?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said, closing his briefcase with a click. “The shop won’t run itself, alas.”

“That’s a shame,” she murmured, and he tilted his head.

“Well, if you should ever wish to dispose of other rare editions, I’d be obliged if you could give me first refusal. I’d offer you a very fair price.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she said hastily, blushing a little. “It’s just - well, if this is your last night in the city, perhaps - perhaps we could have a drink?”

“A drink?” he said, allowing himself a tiny smile. “That sounds perfect.”

“Actually, I’m - I’m closing up now,” she said. “If you’re free.”

Gold straightened up, fingers flexing on the cane handle.

“I’m all yours.”

Belle had never met anyone quite like Mr Gold, and her instant and unexpected attraction to him had caused her some initial concern. She tried to make dating decisions based on personality traits and common interests rather than looks, but told herself firmly that this hadn’t changed with the arrival of the mysterious antique dealer. Mr Gold was, after all, intelligent, well-read, and with an appreciation for the rare and beautiful. Not that he wasn’t handsome; he had deep brown eyes and soft hair that hung around a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. But there was something else that drew her to him, her thoughts straying to him at the strangest times. There was an air about him, a heavy energy that made her skin tingle, that had made her breath catch at the first touch of his hand. Yes, she had to admit that she found him very attractive indeed.

She had wanted to ask him out the first time they had met, but had held off, thinking that impulsiveness wasn’t always one of her more admirable traits. He was much older than her, and she had told herself that he was probably married, although he wore no wedding ring. Still, it had always felt as though there was something between them. A weight to the atmosphere whenever he entered the shop, a spark of electricity in the air around them. The strength of her attraction was a little alarming, and so she had waited, all the while keeping an ear out for any mention of a wife or partner, anything that might suggest he was already taken. He wasn’t all that forthcoming with personal information, something she hoped to remedy.

The last time he had left the shop, he had kissed her hand with a slow press of soft lips. It was a gesture she would ordinarily have wrinkled her nose at, but which had made her heart thump and a heavy, insistent throb of desire start between her thighs. She had dreamed of him that night, a gloriously vivid dream in which he peeled off every stitch she wore and made her scream with pleasure. It made her blush to think of it, and his tiny, knowing grin when he had arrived that evening had almost made her suspect that he knew the erotic paths her mind had taken. It made negotiating the price for the book somewhat longer than it needed to be, but she couldn’t help thinking that he had gone easy on her, nonetheless. She told herself that asking someone for a drink was a normal, healthy part of adult life, and there was no need to turn it into a big deal. She also told herself that she had no intention of sleeping with him, even as she knew it was a blatant lie.

Once they left the shop, she took him to a bar around the corner, a small, humid place with good wine and terrible restrooms. Roni, the black-haired bartender, flashed Belle her usual wide smile, but eyed Gold with a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare as she set a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of them. She frowned at him as she turned away, and Belle was puzzled by her sudden hostility. Gold seemed unfazed, carrying the bottle to a nearby table as Belle brought the glasses. He pulled out her chair, waiting for her to sit before pushing it back, and then took his own seat. Roni passed again, still shooting him disapproving looks, and there was a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t think much of the service in this place,” he said lightly.

“I don’t get it, she’s usually so friendly,” mused Belle. “Do you know her?”

“No,” he said, pouring them each a glass of wine. “I shouldn’t worry about it. She’s probably worked out that I’m not really human.”

Belle giggled, raising a brow.

“Oh really?” she drawled. “Well, I suppose it is almost Halloween.”

“Here’s my costume,” he quipped, running a hand up and down his slim form.

“Terrifying.”

“I thought so.”

She grinned, reaching for her drink, and shook back her hair as red wine swirled in her glass, dark as blood. Gold reached for his own glass, taking a sip and setting it down.

“So what are you?” she asked. “Vampire? Werewolf?”

“Certainly not,” he said seriously. “I’m an ancient demon, proficient in the dark arts.”

“With a weakness for old books and antiques?” she teased, and he shrugged.

“We all have our hobbies.”

“I suppose even ancient demons have to pass the time between sacrifices,” she added, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Well, it’s been some time since I attended a thoroughly debauched ritual,” he admitted. “Getting a little old for that sort of thing.”

Belle giggled.

“Do demons ever get tired of doing demonic things?”

“Not really.” He took a sip of his wine, grinning at her. “It’s more a shift in priorities. I believe you humans are the same. As we get older, we start to focus on the more important things in life.”

“Defiling virgins out, family time in?”

Gold set down his glass with a smile.

“In order to do that, one must first have a family.”

“And you think having a drink with me is gonna fix that?” she asked. He returned her grin, spreading his fingers in a fan.

“Clearly it’s all part of my evil demonic plan.”

“Strange that I asked you out, then.”

“Perhaps you’re drawn to the darkness.”

It was said in a low voice, a throaty rumble in his throat that made her heart thump. Belle chuckled a little nervously, taking a sip of wine. It was good, warming her throat, and she took another, larger sip, sneaking a look at him over the rim of her glass. Something was pulling her to him, an alluring sense of mystery, of hunger. Perhaps it was darkness, after all. Odd, then, that she trusted him. Foolish, perhaps, given that she barely knew the man, but then she had always had a sense about people. His eyes caught hers, a sudden gleam of gold within their dark brown depths, and she shook her head, dropping her gaze.

“Where were we before we entered this bar and went down this very bizarre path?” she said. “Oh yes, you were telling me what a terrible recluse you are.”

He looked amused at that.

“Ask any of my neighbours.”

Belle pursed her lips.

“Maybe I will,” she said coyly. “What’s your home town like?”

Gold sucked his teeth, setting down his glass and sitting back.

“Small enough that everyone wants to know your business,” he said. “Large enough that they never quite manage it.”

Belle giggled at that, taking another sip of her wine.

“Even after two years, I feel like I don’t really know anyone here,” she confessed. “Big cities are kind of impersonal, aren’t they? I have a few regulars, of course, but it’s not the same as friends. I mean, I love running the shop, don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of lonely at times.”

“I see.” He continued to watch her, fingers stroking the stem of his glass. “And what did you hope for, when you came to this city?”

Belle could feel that her smile was somewhat rueful.

“I was hoping that the bookstore would be an amazing success and in five years’ time I’d have a chain of them and a beautiful loft apartment,” she said. “Now I’m mostly hoping that I can pay next month’s bills on time and have a little left over for a new pair of shoes.”

“A simple enough dream,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “What about the rest? Friends? Family?”

Belle wrinkled her nose.

“My parents are both dead,” she said. “That’s how I got the shop. Dad left me a little money, so I figured I’d make a new start, in a new city.”

She chewed her lip, feeling sad, and took a drink to try to distract from her melancholy.

“What about you?” she asked, her voice cracking a little. “Do you live alone?”

“Yes.” He reached for his drink again. “You?”

“Oh, ever since I came here,” she said. “The apartment only has one bedroom.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to live alone.”

“True,” she agreed. “But I don’t seem to have much luck with relationships, to be honest.”

“I find that hard to imagine,” he said softly, and she shrugged awkwardly.

“Some people say I’m - odd,” she ventured. “That I’ll end up alone with my books and a dozen cats. I don’t know, maybe they’re right.”

Gold smirked, and raised his glass.

“Sounds like something to celebrate,” he suggested. “Fuck the lot of them.”

She giggled at that, and clinked her glass against his. He took a sip, setting down his glass.

“So,” he said. “No enormous hulking boyfriend waiting outside to attack me for having a drink with you?”

“God, no!” she said fervently. “I mean, I’ve dated, but it never usually gets past the second night. Maybe I’m too picky. Or too weird.”

“You think you’re weird?”

“You heard the crazy cat lady thing, right?” She raised her glass. “Scared yet?”

“Certainly not.”

Gold took a sip of his wine, the tip of his tongue sweeping across his lips to catch a stray droplet, dark as blood. His eyes met hers, and she felt her breath catch in her throat a little.

“And what about children?” he asked softly. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “I guess I want it all. A job I love, a happy marriage and a couple of kids, and - and it occurs to me that this really isn’t a first date topic of conversation…”

Her voice trailed off lamely, but he smiled, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs a little wider.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said easily. “I find it’s better to be open about these things. Cuts down on the time-wasters.”

Belle laughed a little nervously, reaching for her wine.

“Careful,” she warned. “I’ll be telling you all my secrets soon.”

“Well, you already know mine,” he said, and she sent him an amused look.

“Of course,” she said earnestly. “How could I forget the professional defiler of virgins?”

“Retired,” he corrected, raising his glass, and she giggled.

“At least you haven’t run for the hills,” she noted, and his mouth twitched.

“I have no intention of running anywhere.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence, and she took another drink to cover it. Gold was watching her, fingers absently caressing the rim of his wine glass. The fingers were long and slender, his touch delicate, and she wondered if he was as careful with everything he handled. A heat was building in her, the throb of her pulse beating low down in her groin, and she squeezed her thighs together. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards, as though he could read her mind, and she tried to keep her thoughts out of the gutter. Gold put his head to the side.

“You said you didn’t date,” he said, and Belle pulled a face.

“Not really,” she said. “Nothing that counts as a - as a relationship.”

“And is a relationship what you want?” he asked. His voice was low and lilting. Soothing. A velvet tongue caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“I - it might - it might be nice,” she stammered, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. “To have someone, I mean. Everyone needs someone, right?”

He smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming.

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Because the mysterious Mr Gold spends all his time alone, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why are you here?” she countered, and his smile widened.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

He took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes catching and holding hers, making the blush in her cheeks deepen and an ache start low in her belly. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her skin prickling, as though it was too tight, and she sucked in a breath as he took another drink. He licked his lips again, and set down his glass.

“Do you live nearby, Miss French?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I live above the shop. Why?”

Gold shook back his hair, the tip of his tongue running over his lower lip as his eyes locked onto hers.

“I’d like to take you to bed,” he said quietly. “If you’re willing.”

“Yes! I mean—” She closed her eyes. “I mean - wow, that’s - that’s very - uh - direct.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and she caught a gleam of gold as his teeth showed.

“You said yes.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

She was blushing hard now, and she grabbed at her wine to hide it, almost choking as she took a large swallow.

“I - I don’t usually do this after I make a sale, you know,” she said, and he smiled.

“Nor do I.”

“So…” She gave him a rueful grin. “Are the two of us just a couple of book sluts, or what?”

Gold burst out laughing at that, his eyes gleaming.

“Imagine what could happen if I showed you my library,” he said, his voice a low, pleasant growl, and she pursed her lips.

“Telling me you have a library is serious foreplay, you know.”

He laughed again, a deep, rich sound that made her belly clench, and he reached for his glass, still smiling. She watched as he drank the last of the wine in it and set it down. A droplet ran down the side, a bead of deep red tracking across the base to spread around its edge. Gold licked his lips, raising his chin a little.

“Ready when you are.”

Belle blinked.

“What, you want to go now?”

He shrugged lazily.

“Why wait?”

Why indeed?

“Okay,” she said, and drank the last of her own wine, setting the glass down with a clink. “Let’s go.”

It was cold outside, and Belle shivered, leaning against him as she took his arm and they made their way back towards the shop. That atmosphere was still between them, heavy and electric, and her hands shook as she turned the key in the lock to let them into her apartment. It was as though she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the brush of his fingers on her skin.

The apartment was dark, and she dropped her keys into the little pot she kept on the table by the door and went to flick on the lamp that stood by the couch. She shrugged out of her coat, sucking in a breath as she felt Gold take it from her and draw it down her arms. Her skin was tingling, her heart thumping, and she felt his cool breath by her ear, the closeness of him making her belly pull and tighten. There was a soft thump from the couch as he draped the coat over its arm, and she gasped as she felt his hands at her waist.

“Bedroom?” he murmured, his lips brushing the nape of her neck, and Belle shivered.

“Yeah - uh - just give me a minute,” she said, and pulled out of his grip.

She trotted to the bedroom, rushing to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, hurriedly snatching up the few clothes scattered on the floor and stuffing them in the drawers. Her heart was thumping hard in anticipation, and she kicked off her shoes and stacked them next to the dresser, out of the way. She shrugged out of the cardigan, tossing it aside, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, her chest heaving. Excitement, and a touch of nervousness. It was exhilarating. She tugged the sheets straight, smoothing a hand over the midnight blue coverlet.

“Come in!” she called.

When Gold entered the room, he had taken off his overcoat and suit jacket, a waistcoat over the shirt of dark red silk. His shoes and socks were gone, leaving bare toes that sank into the thick pile of the rug by the end of the bed. A heavy, throbbing darkness seemed to swell and grow around him, blooming outward to wrap around her and pull her to him, and she stepped forward to run her hands up his chest, rising up on her toes as he bent his head to kiss her.

Gold parted her lips with his, tongue snaking into her mouth as a low moan came from her. The taste of her was sweet and heady. Ripe. He ran his hands down her back and over her hips, cupping her rear and pulling her tight against him, and Belle moaned again, fingers stroking through his hair. It felt good to kiss her, better than he had expected, and he had thought about it a lot over the past few weeks. He tugged her against him, knowing she would feel the hardness of him against her, and she moaned again and moved her hips a little, rubbing against him and sending jolts of sensation through him. He groaned, low in his throat, hands gripping her buttocks, and her fingers twisted in his hair.

She had risen up on her toes, and he slid his hands up to her waist, finding the zipper of her skirt and pulling it down before pushing the skirt over her hips to fall around her ankles. Belle kicked it away from her, and he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers as his hands moved around her body to pluck at the buttons of her shirt. Their lips were wet, her nose brushing his and her breath cool against his mouth, and her fingers stroked against his scalp as he unfastened the buttons one by one, down to her navel, letting the shirt gape open to expose her pale skin and the lace cups of her bra. She wore tiny high-leg panties in black mesh, and he could smell her arousal, a heady, musky scent that made him want to drop to his knees and taste her.

Her fingers had left his hair and were fumbling with the knot of his tie, and he helped her undo it, pulling the length of silk from around his throat and tossing it aside. Belle’s hands were shaking a little as she opened up his waistcoat, and he shrugged out of it, sending it to join his tie. He pressed his brow to hers again, tilting his head a little to capture her mouth with his, and she moaned as he kissed her, as his tongue gently stroked against hers. He let his hands fall to her waist, stroking upwards over soft skin to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over the taut peaks of her nipples where they pushed against the lace of her bra.

His hands slid upwards, pushing the shirt from her shoulders, and she dropped her arms and let it fall to the floor behind her. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and he slipped his thumbs under the straps of her bra, drawing them down her arms as he turned his head and pressed his mouth to her neck. Belle rose up on her toes with a tiny cry, and he groaned as he sucked on her soft skin, tasting her. He reached around to find the clasp of the bra, unhooking it with a flick of his fingers and a tiny curl of magic, and she shook it from her, baring the pale mounds of her breasts with their hardened nipples.

He kissed lower, inhaling her scent, the delicate perfume of arousal that was surrounding her, and his mouth trailed over her breast to fasten over her nipple, sucking it in between his lips. Belle moaned, running her hands through his hair, and he growled as his hands cupped her, his tongue swirling over the taut peak. He kissed across to the left breast, tongue circling the nipple with a glistening trail of saliva before he sucked it into his mouth, and she let her head roll back with a gasp, her fingers tugging at his hair. Gold let the nipple slip from his mouth, straightening up as he kissed his way back up to nuzzle along her jaw to her ear, feeling a shiver go through her.

“Get on the bed,” he growled. “I want to taste you.”

She pulled back from him, her eyes flicking to his, her lips full and moist from his kisses. He watched as she climbed onto the bed in her underwear, lying back against the pillows with her knees up, her toes clutching at the dark blue blanket. He unbuttoned his shirt, watching her, one hand on her belly as it rose and fell with her breath. Her dark hair was spread out on the pillows, her eyes closed and lips parted. So beautiful.

He shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it aside before taking off his pants and underwear. His cock was hard, his balls full and heavy, and he knelt on the end of the bed, watching Belle’s eyelids flutter as he put his hands on her knees and slowly pushed them apart. She opened her legs a little, letting him slide his hands up her inner thighs, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of her into his lungs. It made his mouth water, and he bent to kiss her, the skin of her thighs soft as silk against his lips. Belle moaned as he kissed higher, his fingers stalking upwards to grasp the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips a little, allowing him to draw them down, and he shifted backwards off the bed to pull them off at her feet and toss them away.

Belle had been beautiful fully-clothed, but naked she was perfection. His eyes roamed over her curves, the peaks of her breasts and the hollow of her navel, drawn downwards to the glistening pink folds of her sex. He licked his lips as he knelt between her legs, her scent pulling him to her, filling him with an urge to thrust his cock deep inside her and give her all that he had. He ran his hands up her thighs, pushing them apart, and bent to trail his nose up from her knee, following her delicious scent. She let out a tiny moan as his lips brushed her skin, as his hair stroked against her, and he pressed his lips to the glistening cleft between her legs, letting out a low, guttural growl at the first taste of her arousal.

He could feel his true form trying to assert itself, his long tongue coiling in his mouth, eager to be inside her, his tail itching at the base of his spine, wanting to lash out and bind her to him. It had been a long time since he had forgotten himself enough to lose control, but it was surprisingly difficult to suppress the demon part of himself in the presence of all her beauty. His hands slipped beneath her buttocks, lifting her closer to his mouth as he got himself under control. Perhaps just a little of his true form. Perhaps just the tongue.

He let it curl from between his lips, long and tapered, flickering over her wet flesh. Belle gave a cry of pleasure, arching her back, and he groaned in response, her flavour bursting over his tongue. She tasted of salt and musk and the ripe sweetness that meant he had timed his seduction to perfection, and his balls ached with desire, heavy with the seed he carried. His tongue pushed inside her, tasting her, stroking against slick walls and pushing through soft flesh. His cock twitched, eager to get inside her, to push deep and squirt the seed into her.

Drawing out the tongue, he gently slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, pushing her hips upwards. His tongue caressed her, delicately stroking against her clit as his finger thrust in and out, and Belle gasped, her fingers dragging through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. She was whimpering, her body stiffening as her climax neared, and his tongue flickered rapidly until she let out a loud cry of pleasure, wet flesh clamping around his finger. He drew it out with a low groan, whitish fluid leaking from her, and his tongue slithered back inside to taste her bliss. His groan rumbled lower, a deep, bass growl as her flavour sent pulses of desire through his body to his groin. She was jerking and moaning, her fingers tugging at his hair, and he groaned again as he sucked the cum from her. She was ready.

He pressed kisses to her mound and down her inner thighs as he pulled back, and rose up on his knees, hands sliding up her thighs as he shifted forward to lean over her. Belle had closed her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. He leaned on the palms of his hands, shifting his body weight until he was pressed up against her, his cock achingly close to the wet flesh he longed to sink into. Belle’s eyes fluttered open, a slow smile spreading across her face, and she reached up to stroke his hair. Strands of it had were caught on his cheeks, sticky from her juices, and she brushed them back.

“That was amazing,” she murmured. “I hope you still have the energy for the rest of it.”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Oh, I won’t lack for energy, I assure you,” he said softly. “Although you might, by the time we’re done.”

“Confident, hmm?” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “I like it.”

She slid a hand down between them, reaching between her legs to take him in hand, her warm palm curling around his cock and squeezing. It made him growl in pleasure, and Belle made a sound of approval. The hand moved, sliding lower, stroking against his balls, and her mouth opened as she sucked in a breath.

“Oh!” she whispered.

Her fingers stroked delicately, cupping his balls, tracing their shape, and he gritted his teeth, the pleasure of her touch exquisite. She grasped his cock again, lining them up, and her eyes flicked upwards to meet his. He could feel the heat of her against the head of his cock, soft, wet flesh cushioning it, waiting for him to open her up and thrust inside.

“Do you want this?” he asked softly. “Do you want what I can give you?”

“Yes!” she breathed.

He eased into her, letting out a low groan as he slid deep, as he pushed all the way into her. She was slick and hot and perfect, opening up to receive and hold him tightly, and he let his cock grow a little longer, the head pushing up against the firm wall of flesh that his tongue had explored. Belle had arched up into him, drawing up her knees to let him fill her completely, and he slid one hand beneath her lower back, tugging her close as he began to move his hips in long, slow circles, grinding against her, his cock sliding in and out of her slippery heat.

Belle moaned, letting her head roll back, eyes closed as she felt him move inside her. It felt incredible, every thrust of his hips sending a pulse of pleasure through her, making her cheeks flush and her skin hum. He seemed to be able to reach every part that drove her wild, and she enjoyed the warm solid feel of his body rubbing against her clit, his cock hard and thick inside her, a rigid shaft with its head stroking her in just the right spot. She let out a tiny cry, drawing her knees higher, letting him sink deeper, and he growled in response, his thrusts quickening a little.

She reached up to brush the hair from his eyes, sweat making his skin tacky against her fingertips. For a moment it was as though his eyes flashed gold, his gaze intense, but then he bent his head to kiss her, lips pulling at hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth to taste her. She clung to him, legs wrapping around his back, and he groaned into her mouth, his hips jerking as he thrust into her. She could feel pleasure rising up through her body again, a tide of bliss waiting to sweep over her, and she kissed him hungrily, chasing her climax, wanting to let it take them both.

Gold was lost in her, buried in her velvet heat with his tongue in her mouth and her legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. He wanted to let his human mask slip, to be his true self with her. He wanted to let his tail spring out and curl around them both, to let his wings fold a tent of warm leather around them, trapping their moist warmth and their mingled scents and the rhythmic sounds of their pleasure. It was impossible, of course, and so he concentrated on how she good she felt, on how sweet she tasted, on the slippery layer of sweat between their bodies and the sounds she made as he fucked her.

He pulled his mouth from hers with a wet, sucking noise, his breath coming hard as he felt his cock harden further, his climax nearing. There was the tingle of magic deep in his groin, spreading up from his balls, waiting to flow into her. He ran his hands up her body, cupping her breasts before sliding up her arms, his fingers threading through hers as he pushed her hands down into the pillows, and Belle moaned and arched up into him, squeezing his cock and sending a jolt of pleasure through him that made him gasp out an expletive.

“Fuck!”

A smile curled the edges of her beautiful mouth, and he quickened his pace, the magic rising up, spreading through his groin, pulling the seed from his balls. A wave of pleasure rushed over him, and he came with a long, groaning cry, his cock pulsing, seed pouring into her in a burst of heat. Belle let out a loud cry, her flesh squeezing him, her body writhing against his as she came. Her flesh tugged at him, pulling the seed from him, drawing it deep, and he pumped his hips, letting her take as much as she could, letting it fill her. Her nails raked his back, a delicious pain mixed with his pleasure, and she jerked and moaned, her pale skin turned pink in her chest and cheeks, her dark curls awry.

His cock was still pulsing faintly, and he let his head hang low as he tried to catch his breath. She reached up to push lazy fingers through his hair, a slow, rhythmic stroking as he inhaled the scent of her, the heady perfume of her pleasure that had wound its way into his brain. The combination of her touch and her scent was almost soporific, making him want to purr contently, and he tried to shake it off, raising his head to grin down at her.

“Well well,” he said softly. “That was - unexpected.”

Belle giggled a little, her eyes sparkling, fingers still dancing over his scalp and making him shiver deliciously.

“You could say that,” she agreed. “You could also say it was amazing.”

“Oh, it was certainly that.”

He kissed her, feeling her legs loosen their grip around his waist and fall to the sides, smooth thighs rubbing against his hips. He was still hard inside her, and he let his lips pull at hers, wanting to stay there for a moment longer, buried within her. Belle stretched a little, pointing her toes. The movement made her squeeze his cock, and he let out a contented, rumbling growl. She reached up to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing over his lower lip.

“So,” she said. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I am,” he confirmed. “As I said, the store won’t run itself.”

“Hmm.” Her fingers slid around to the nape of his neck, plucking at the soft strands of hair. “I guess that means you could stay here a little longer. If you wanted.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I’d like that very much.”

He bent to kiss her, and she twined her arms around his neck, her tongue stroking against his as he rolled them onto their sides to pull her close. It wasn’t as though he needed to sleep, after all.

As the clock approached four, Gold tugged the knot of his tie tight around his throat, eyeing his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, his features shaded blue in the dim moonlight. In the bed behind him, Belle twitched and sighed in her sleep, rolling onto her back, and he turned slowly on the toes of his shoes to face her. The sheets had been pushed down to her waist, baring her breasts and belly, and he laid his palm on the flat of her stomach, smirking as he felt the spark of life inside her. He bent to kiss her, a brief press of his lips against her skin, giving her his protection once more. Her and the child.

Silently, he slipped from the bedroom, closing the door behind him and searching for his shoes and socks. Drawing on his coat, he fished in his wallet for a business card, a rectangle of thick cream card with his name and Maine address on. Hesitating only slightly, he wrote on the back in neat, slanting letters: Until we meet again x.

He set the card on the hall table, where she would easily see it, and after a moment’s hesitation, swirled his fingers with a muttered incantation, conjuring a rose to lay beside it, its red petals studded with dew. He shook his head ruefully at the gesture, but he suspected Miss French would appreciate it. If not his leaving in the middle of the night.

He tugged the coat around himself. The mirror near the front door threw his reflection back at him, and he smirked to himself as he straightened his collar. Time to leave the all-too-intriguing human with her books and her tea and her dazzling smile and her gentle touch. Time to return to the relative sanity of his solitary life, free of the distractions she offered. For now, at least. It was not the end.

He slipped out of the apartment, heading down to the street below, the cold air sharp in his lungs as he set off back to his hotel. Ducking into the alleyway that led to the bar where they had met, he felt a prickle between his shoulder blades, and paused, his fingers tightening on the cane he held.

“Well, you may as well come out and stop lurking,” he said, and a figure appeared, sliding from the shadows as it took form. The dark-haired bartender. Roni. She smirked at him, one eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“So,” she said. “You fucked her, then.”

Gold smiled as he settled the cane between his legs, fingers flexing on the handle.

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Gentleman, my ass!” she said flatly. “You tell her who you really are?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“And she believed you?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmm.”

She curled her lip, and he raised a brow.

“Are you gonna tell her?”

“What, you think I’m a traitor to my own kind?” she said levelly. “Your business is your own, just don’t do it in my neighbourhood again. I don’t have the energy to settle territorial disputes. Might blast your nuts off without thinking it through.”

“Well, thank you for the warning,” he said dryly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours.”

“Good.”

“I imagine when I see her again, it’ll be on my territory,” he added.

“When you see her again?” She folded her arms, red lips curving in a grin. “You like her!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said stiffly. “It’s for the continuation of our kind, nothing more.”

“She’ll be disappointed.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“You clearly don’t know her too well.”

“Are you telling me you do?”

She shrugged, grinning at him, and he could feel his irritation rise.

“You know, you could easily contribute to our dwindling numbers yourself, instead of giving me a hard time about it,” he snapped, and Roni snorted softly.

“I don’t think so,” she said, with feeling. “Can’t really get past the whole ‘having sex with men’ part.”

“What?” he said, bewildered.

“Oh, I like girls,” she explained.

Gold stepped forward, feeling an unexpected surge of possessiveness.

“Miss French is under my protection,” he growled, and she rolled her eyes.

“I know that, I can smell you all over her,” she snapped. “Besides, she’s not my type. I like blondes.”

He grunted, satisfied.

“Well, good luck with that.”

“Good luck to you too.”

He nodded cautiously, stepping around her and heading off.

“Be careful,” she called after him. “Humans can be unpredictable. You may find yourself making a deal you don’t understand.”

“Never happened before.”

“First time for everything,” she said. “I hear things in that bar. Get a lot of visitors from our world, and there’s always one of our kind who manages to lose out to the humans.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be me,” he said coldly.

“If you say so.”

His jaw tightened, but he walked on, feeling her eyes on his back. There was a low-level feeling of unease creeping through him, a sense that perhaps he had underestimated the balance of power, that he had made a fundamental error in his grand plan. He shook his head, dispelling the unwelcome doubts. Belle would do as he predicted, which meant that sooner or later, she would come to find him. If only for the briefest of moments, he would see her again.

#fic: original sin verse #fic: indulgence #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic #lemon fic #rather large estate #rumbelle monster's ball

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thosequeenboys · 4 years

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Love Is Love Is Love (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello) - Chapter 2

A/N: This story started as one shot for the Hardzzello Week “Missing” prompt - Missed (link below). The story unfolded as a series, which I named after a phrase in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s 2016 Tony acceptance sonnet that paid tribute to the victims of the Orlando, FL, night club shooting. Because of my commitment to gay marriage and LGBT rights I wanted to share a story of family joys and challenges through them.

Chap. 1: Missed

Summary, Chapter 2: Puzzled: Ben and Joe learn new information about Alex, and Joe receives a surprise that promises to complicate their lives.

Warnings: Doctor’s visit for a check-up; angst

tagging: @warriorteam1924 @heybuddy-drabbles @oniriquex @igotsuckedintothevoid @watercolouredreams @roger-taylors-car @nightoftheland @lapofthemusicgods

The new year unfolded, and the days became longer demarcated by pink, lavender and gold sunsets. Their lives felt pretty stable and had a certain rhythm. Joe was serving as a consultant on a Netflix show, which required travel to LA a week each month. With his own next gig requiring intense travel slated for later in the year, Ben cherished watching winter slip into spring on walks with his trusty, observant companion by his side, touching the cracked ground where bulbs sprouted, watching birds build nests and smelling flowers. On a mid-March afternoon that was remarkably spring-like, Ben and Alex returned from playgroup, though this walk was silent and tense. As they entered home, Joe was wrapping up a call.

“Alex, how about watching some PBS?” Ben said, entering the living room and turning on the TV. “Dad and I need to catch up on boring grown-up stuff. I’ll bring you a snack in a few minutes.”

“OK”, Alex said, knowing he didn’t have a choice and that the ‘boring grown-up stuff’ probably included him. Before Ben left, he tried to change their dynamic by running his hand through his son’s hair. “Alex. I love you.” Alex gave his dad a side glance, feeling lingering sadness from their earlier interaction when his dad was mad at him, but relieved to hear his dad’s affectionate words.

Ben sat at the island counter in the kitchen facing Joe who had moved to the other side of the counter, peeling and cutting vegetables for chicken cacciatore.

“So that thing happened at playgroup.” Ben looked up at Joe. Joe felt his chest tighten. Again? He knew where this was going; they had been there before. Ben sighed and continued:

“The toys were laid out on the floor, and he and the other kids were playing. It was going really well. They were talking, and he seemed into it. I thought, ‘Finally! He’s getting how it should be.” Suddenly he went over to the bookshelf and started looking on the shelves. He pulled out a puzzle box. I said he had to put it back; we can’t take things without asking. I told him we weren’t playing with that today. He clutched it and refused. He sat down with it, and when I tried to take it, he pulled it away. He actually scowled at me. I gritted my teeth and told him to give it to me. I had smoke coming out of my ears, but I tried not to make a scene. Fortunately, Becca, you know Georgie’s mom who was hosting, came over and said Alex could look at the puzzle - it belonged to Georgie’s older brother, Jeremy. I thanked Becca and asked Alex to thank her too, which he did.”

“So, he dumps it out. Ok, so no surprise there. But then he starts his sorting thing, and he’s holding up the pieces to the box in front of him and I’m kind of trying to block him, listening to the other parents. And, he starts putting pieces together, making the border, and suddenly, one of the moms sees it and, like, gasps. “OHMYGOD, Ben, he’s doing THAT puzzle?’ Then everyone starts looking.”

“We’re all always comparing notes: What are the kids eating and not eating? What classes are they taking? Who’s looking at pre-schools? It’s supportive, but everyone’s trying to make sure their kid is, you know, ‘on track.’”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded, switching knives to cut up an apple. “My sister told me all about that. It can get ugly. Some parents brag, and parents whose kids are at a different stage try not to freak out. You can feel the anxiety bubbling up. Sometimes it’s just better to talk about politics, honestly.”

Sighing, Joe plated the apple slices and spooned some peanut butter on the side of the plate. Ben grabbed the plate and the water bottle. He slid off the stool to deliver it to Alex. Joe started to build the dish, sautéing peppers, carrots, onions and garlic. After they softened, tomatoes, wine, stock and chicken would join the party.

Returning, Ben continued. “So, I just brushed it off. Talked about his older cousins teaching him, how he tries to copy them, you know, he just fools around and gets lucky. Then it was time to leave. He only did a little of the puzzle. Jesus, it was like 50 pieces. I said we had to clean it up. He was all with the ‘no’s’, but finally I glared at him – I swear I almost lost it - but he relented. I feel so out of control when this happens and not sure what to do. And, Alex gets laser-focused and detaches. I had to tell him to say good-bye and thank you. I could tell he was still thinking about that fucking puzzle as we were saying our goodbyes….”

Joe stopped chopping the basil and put his knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. He ran his fingers through his hair. “He is who he is. And we shouldn’t be too surprised about his laser-focus -- and his smarts -- knowing his two sets of genes,” Joe said, with a wink, before continuing, “You handled it well, Babe. Really well. You shouldn’t feel defensive. We need to figure out how to deal with this. Take him for the check-up… better late than never.”

Suddenly Alex came in holding the empty plate and bottle. ‘Hey, Buddy,” Joe said. “The chicken is almost done. Want to finish it up?”

Alex nodded. He went over to Joe who took the plate and bottle and put the stool in front of the stove, helping him up. “OK,” Joe said, pointing to a pile of chopped greens on the cutting board. Here we have some basil and parsley.” Alex grabbed the greens and sprinkled them into the pot. Joe handed Alex the wooden spoon and he stirred them in, as he planted a kiss on his son’s neck.

A week later they were in Premiere Pediatrics, and the medical assistant took Alex into a small room. Ben and Joe waited outside. She tested his vision, and they overheard her asking him about colors and numbers but they got into a discussion and didn’t pay attention.

Suddenly, the assistant tore past them and approached the doctor down the hall, showing him the paper in her hand, as a nurse quickly escorted Alex and his parents to an exam room.

Joe helped Alex undress and put on the robe. He whipped out a book, Ocean Creatures, from his backpack. Alex settled into his lap and Joe started the story. They got halfway through the book and in walked Dr. Herbert “Call Me Herb” Markman, holding a slim file in his left hand.

Dr. Markman was there from the beginning. Before the beginning. Ben and Joe had to have a local pediatrician vouch for their sincere interest to be parents and their stability. And they had to show there was a doctor at the ready as soon as the baby arrived. When Joe called the practice and asked for an experienced doctor, explaining the situation, the receptionist set up an appointment with Dr. Markman right away, noting he was the most senior member of the practice. A Google search showed they hit the pediatrician lottery: degrees from Ivy League universities; a professor at the local Medical School; a successful researcher; and a former President of the American Society of Pediatrics. As a person, he was warm, calm and conversational. As a doctor, he was thorough, smart and sensitive to both his young patients and their over-concerned parents. At their first meeting, Dr. Markman insisted they call him Herb, but Joe and Ben settled on Dr. M. To keep the relationship on an equal playing field, Dr. Markman followed the more formal naming convention.

“MR. JONES-MAZZELLO!” Dr. M. greeted Alex like a long-lost friend. “So nice to see you! You’re here for your 2-year check-up, I see. Let’s get you up on the bench. He patted it and helped Alex up. Then he turned and offered a warm nod and outstretched hand, “Mr. Jones. Mr. Mazzello.” He placed Alex’s file on the desk.

Ben chimed in somewhat guiltily, “Actually, we missed the 2-month mark. He’s almost 2 and a half now.”

“No harm, no foul.” Dr. M. responded with a reassuring smile as he applied hand sanitizer.

Dr. M. addressed his patient. “Alex, are you having any concerns about your body, anything hurt? Anything you want to ask?”

“No, thank you. I’m well, thanks.” Alex replied.

The three adults laughed. Ben beamed, proud at his politeness.

“Good to hear.” Dr. M. commented. Turning to Joe and Ben, Dr. M. asked, “Any concerns? How’s he been?” Any more high fevers?”

“No, no fevers. Thankfully.” Joe said.

“He’s fine, seems good, really.” Ben added.

“Is he good, really or really good?” It was a play on words, a rhetorical question, but Dr. M. was on to something. “Ok, let’s take a look.”

He examined Alex thoroughly, prodding his organs eliciting a stream of giggles. He checked his heart, ears, eyes, blood pressure, spine and reflexes, making notes on his I-pad as he went along.

“All good!” He said.

Dr. M. opened the file folder on the desk and pulled out the report the medical assistant handed him earlier. He went over to the shelf that held some books and games and pulled out 10 black checkers. “As I put these down, Alex, can you count them for me?” Alex counted 1 through 10 as the checkers were placed on the exam bench. Then, Dr. M. picked a few up and asked him the total number remaining on the bench. Then he put some back, asking for a total. He did this a few more times, moving quickly. Alex hesitated at times, thinking it through, but didn’t get flustered. Joe and Ben looked on with awe. Was he really adding and subtracting? Dr. M. collected the checkers and put them aside on the bench.

“What did you think of that?” He asked Alex.

“Fun!” Alex said.

“Good to hear we have a satisfied customer. We always try to provide patients with some fun during visits.” Dr. M. said, typing into his I-pad and winking at Joe and Ben, making it clear that round of ‘fun’ was not offered to most patients at their 2-year visits.

“So, what do you like to do, Alex?” Dr. M. asked.

Alex thought for a minute and answered, “The library. We take out lots of books. I like ocean animals. And gymnastics. I like to sommersault. And parachute lift - some of us run into it, and we have to run back before it falls on us!” Alex smiled, sitting up straight, swinging his legs, picturing the activity.

“Wow, that sounds really thrilling.” Dr. M. said, giving Alex his full attention.

Alex nodded and then looked at the ceiling thinking about what else filled his days. “Puzzles! I really like puzzles.”

Ben looked over at Joe encouragingly, wanting him to take the cue, as he twisted the band on his left ring finger with his thumb. Joe looked up, rubbing his chin. It was the perfect opening. “Uh, yeah, about puzzles. We should let Dr. M. know what happens sometimes. Like at playgroup.”

Alex looked down, remembering how angry his dad was with him that day.

Ben continued. “Remember at Georgie’s, you got the puzzle off the shelf and started doing it when there were lots of other toys out. You can’t just go into someone’s stuff.”

“I was bored!” Alex said with a raised voice, annoyed that his dad didn’t understand.

Dr. M. nodded. “It’s hard to feel bored, isn’t it?”

Alex nodded emphatically, and Dr. M. continued, “When you feel bored, Alex, it’s good to tell one of your dads, and together you can discuss what to do. Maybe you can ask for another toy. But, sometimes, you may have to be bored. Lord knows, I am more than I’d like!” he laughed, trying to lighten the tension, but came back to the point. “Do you think you can talk about how you feel before acting?”

Alex nodded, looking at Ben, who gave him a smile.

“Good!” Dr. M. said. “Your dads can remind you. So, what else happens in the Life of Alexander Jones-Mazzello?”

“I help Papa cook.” Alex smiled at the recent memory.

“Cooking is fun! How do you help?” Dr. M. asked.

“Add basil and…pars and stir.” Alex said.

“Basil and Parsley,” Joe clarified, “My Italian influence.”

“I’m a big fan of Italian food!” Dr. M. said. He smiled, directing his next question to Ben and Joe. “Any other activities your fine young man is involved in?

“He just started music class!” Ben added enthusiastically. “I read about the strong association between math and music, so we thought it would be good…” his voice trailed off as he looked over at the doctor typing into his I-pad.

Call Me Herb looked summarily unimpressed, perhaps the most unimpressed he’d been in his 35-year career as a pediatrician. Ben and Joe exchanged glances.

“Alex, you are well on your way to becoming a fine 3-year old. One day, I’d like you to meet my friend, Wendy. She’ll show you some other fun puzzles and games I think you’ll like.” Dr. M. said as he helped Alex dress. Then Alex leaned over and grabbed the checkers and started to play with them.

Dr. M. then spoke softly to Ben and Joe, “I’m going to give you the number of Wendy Chambers. She’s an educational psychologist. She’ll do her assessment and have some ideas.” He wrote her name and number on his prescription pad. “Do it this year, before the pre-school search heats up. The information she provides will help,” he said in his gentle tone as he handed the slip to Ben, who looked down at it.

“Is…Did…Is what we’re doing not right?” Ben asked hesitantly in a whisper.

“You’re doing great.” Dr. M. reassured. Sensing Ben’s concern, he walked over to him and Joe and said very softly. “It just may not be enough. In the long run. He’s precious. And,” he added, “Gifted. With all joys and challenges that come with it. I’ll let Wendy know I’ve referred Alex; you’ll be in good hand with her. Let’s stay in touch.”

After a round of handshakes, Dr. M. departed to a chorus of thank you from the boys.

As they left the doctor’s office, Ben mentioned they needed to pick up some groceries. “We’ll meet you home, then?” He said to Joe, their eyes lingering expressing they were in this together, whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. Ben bent down to zip Alex’s jacket, his knee resting on the sidewalk, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You were such a good patient with Dr. M. Ready to go, Buddy?” Alex smiled and nodded, leaning in to hug Ben, who welcomed the embrace. As usual, Alex’s hug stopped Ben in his tracks, and he had to force himself to stand up and proceed, grasping Alex’s hand.

“Thanks for shopping. See you guys at home,” Joe said. As they peeled off in opposite directions, Joe suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out. The area code was vaguely familiar but he didn’t recognize the number, and there was no name associated with it.

“Hello, Joe Mazzello.” He answered, stopping. Joe nodded slightly as the name was revealed.

“Oh. Hi.” He said, in acknowledgement, suppressing his surprise. The voice relayed information, and Joe juggled his phone, trying to shift gears quickly and process the unexpected information.

“Really? Seriously? Wow. That’s…terrific. Have to say, wasn’t expecting it. I mean…” his voice trailed off as more information was relayed.

“When will…?” He registered the response with a nod, his eyes darting side to side.

“Uh, OK! Sounds good….” His voice faded as he tried not to express any concern or hesitation, though logistical wheels were turning in his head, as they always did. “Ok, uh, let me … can I give you a call tomorrow and we can discuss the details? This is…Great! Thanks. Thanks for the call. Take care…Talk tomorrow. Bye.”

Joe clicked off the phone, his eyes opened wide. A surprised grin emerged while he shook his head. If life, acting – and parenthood – taught him anything, it’s you can’t always predict what’s around the corner. Life doesn’t ask to ‘put time on your calendar’ or ‘is this convenient?’ You have to keep calm and make it work. As he walked home, Joe started to strategize about how to do that with this surprising news.

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booklovingturtle · 5 years

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Jude Teaches Cardan to Fight (pt 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: The High King’s Senechal decides that it’s important for him to learn how to defend himself. During their first training session, things go about as well as could be expected when Jude and Cardan are in a room with pointed weapons.

AN: L O L. Okay. I lied a little. I think there will be a part four but I’m not sure yet. I like the way this one ended but there is always space for another piece. As of now, this is the end.

Cardan’s muscles burned from training. His lungs were fighting against the pounding of his heart to gulp down mouthfuls of fresh air. Sweat trickled down his back and stuck his shirt to his heated skin. Fatigue wore down his limbs and made the sword tilt downward.

Jude would have none of it. She gave him barely enough time to breathe before swinging towards him. She moved fast and strategically, placing bruises along his body with her practice sword. Sometimes she would use the hilt of her sword to hit a nerve or just annoy him. She was ruthless and cunning but beyond that, she was a genius.

Cardan’s only example of training was Balekin’s vicious abuse. Each stab of the sword was followed by a stab of his words. If Cardan faltered, it was because he was a half-wit. If he couldn’t block one of Balekin’s attacks, it was because he was weak. If he missed a blow, it was because he was too weak to inflict any real damage. There was no learning with Balekin. Only vain attempts at pleasing him.

Training with Jude was nothing like that. The first lesson had started poorly thanks to his inability to stay calm but it had ended peacefully. They went over basic skills that he’d forgotten. She even taught him a few new ones. The whole time Jude was stern but never cruel.

He hadn’t enjoyed the training session yet he hadn’t walked out of it with any physical or mental scars. His whole body had ached the next day. His muscles were crying loud enough that he tried to skip their second session. Jude came into his room and naturally refused to let that stand.

“If you’re in too much pain to hold a sword then we will go over the parts of the body to aim at. Mental instruction is just as important as physical.” She proceeded to ask a servant to bring in a desk and chairs for them.

That day was spent with her hideously drawn diagram of the body accompanied by thorough explanations of the best ways to attack each.

“Give me back the pen,” she tried to yank it from his grasp when she saw his crude addition to her diagram. “Use your own time to practice your erotic art.”

Cardan had laughed harder than ever. Jude’s cheeks flushed as if only then having realized what she had said.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

Their third day of training was back in the weapons room. Cardan was surprised to see that he wasn’t entirely dreading it. Day three was a review of novice skills followed by a mock sword fight.

“Good,” Jude's mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile but it was enough to make one breakout on his face. “You’re not terrible when you aren’t whining in between attacks.”

It turns out, Jude was quite right. There was an elegance to swordplay that Cardan hadn’t noticed before. As long as he focused on his own body it was easy to fall into it. Swordplay was almost intimate. His eyes stayed entirely focused on her while they trained. He was learning to read her cues, anticipate her attack, and find her weak points. It made it easier to stay focused on her that when he made a mistake, she corrected him objectively.

“Stop twisting your upper body so much. You shift too much of your weight like that and unbalance yourself. We’re supposed to be fighting, not doing the cha-cha-slide.”

“The what?” Cardan asked dumbfounded.

His confused look actually made her smile. “It’s a human dance. I learned it my old school assemblies but they do it at almost every party.”

That did intrigue him. “A dance? Could you teach it to me? Maybe we could ask the musicians at court to learn it.”

Jude had laughed so hard that her knees went out from under her.

Two months into training with her and Cardan finally stopped fearing it. Jude was so easy to train with. She never asked him to slit the throat of a human servant or called him a coward. She had kept her word. She was not asking him to become a fighter or killer. He was relieved every time she would quiz him on the best ways to disarm an opponent and not decapitate them.

“If I’m ever caught without a weapon I can always use my good looks and brilliant charm to disarm them,” Cardan joked through labored breaths.

“Maybe. That would only work if they were blind and deaf, though, so let's not count on that happening.”

He wasn’t the only one that was being changed by the training sessions. Jude tried her best to be understanding of his previous experiences. She was usually patient. After the first session, if he had ever angered her during training, she never showed it. Even their spiteful arguing had smoothed into playful bickering.

“I can’t do this,” he had spat angrily one day. She was trying to show him how to quickly switch from one weapon to another. Cardan kept dropping the sword and the dagger mid-switch.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Do you have a heartbeat?” He crossed his arms and glowered. “Do you have arms?”

“Yes.” At that moment he wished that he could use her dishonest sarcasm.

“Do you have all ten fingers?”

“Yes!”

“Then I’m not seeing why you can’t do it. I see why you aren’t doing it but not why you can’t,” she challenged his defeated attitude. You are afraid of making a mistake. I don’t need perfection. I care that you are able to execute the maneuver. I can nitpick the technique later. Just breathe and try it again.”

Madoc was a bloodcap. He reveled in war and bloodshed just as Balekin did. Yet here was his ward, a master liar, gently instructing the High King on how to properly throw daggers and dodge a punch. Jude was entirely different in the training room. He wasn’t sure when it had happened but he could see it now.

Cardan’s sword swung and collided with hers again. They had been going back and forth for ages now. Jude nodding when he did something right and giving him words of approval. He was trying to keep his head on the sharpness of her blade and not of the kindness of her words.

Somehow he had developed an appreciation for her constructive feedback. It no longer prickled him to hear her critique him. In fact, Cardan was excited to hear what she had to say. If it was good then he ignored the way heat flooded through his body. If it was bad then he worked harder to please her.

Her foot snuck out from under her while her blade had distracted him. Cardan head hit the floor painfully but he curled forward and yanked her body down with him.

Jude landed beside him, sword clattering away from her. He was reaching for his dagger but she recovered before he could. She twisted and was on top of him immediately. The cold steel of a dagger was pressed to his pulse.

“Not too bad for a lazy King, huh?” Cardan’s breathing was ragged. A smile was pasted on his face despite the blade at his neck.

Jude own chest heaved above him. Her body was like liquid fire moving over him. It was an effort not to press her to him.

“Not bad at all. You got a little over enthusiastic near the end. I’ll take that over whining.” A spark danced in her eyes.

The knife reminded him of a time long ago. The smell of fear in a dark room hidden under the castle. Jude’s pointed crossbow. Shame and desire mixing to create his own personal hell. Jude kissing him and he wanted to drown in her.

“Believe me,” Cardan’s hands found her waist, “I’m not complaining.”

Jude tensed for a moment. Her body was rigid but her eyes were on his lips. She seemed to have been thinking about the same night as him.

“I could stay in this position forever,” he teased, finding the heated skin under her shirt.

She shuttered, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s a shame, then.” Her words were uneven.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because unlike you...I do not have forever.” Jude’s sentenced punched a hole through him. Her opened long enough to read the sorrow in his. Her own were full of an odd unnerved look. The reminder of her mortality was for him, not her. She could see that for a moment there, he had forgotten who she was. What she was. She stood and took all of the warmth in Elfhame with her.

“Same time tomorrow,” she spoke as if the last minute had vanished from existence. “I have meetings to attend so the Bomb will be training you in my place.”

“Wait-” Carda foolishly rose to his feet. “Rest up,” she turned away from his plea. “I don’t suggest having any court gatherings or night guests. If you thought that I was a strict trainer, the Bomb is a whole other story. You’ll need all your energy for her tomorrow.”

She was out of the room before he could fully process the way her voice faltered when she mentioned night guest. Cardan was relieved and disappointed about tomorrow. On one hand, it would give him time to forget how Jude had felt pressed against him. On the other, it would only prolong how long he would have to wait until he could see her again.

Tags: @ourbooksuniverse @notyourclassicshadowhunter @fangirlinghard-spoilerson @afexiss @cute898 @mintyvina @andromeddea (let me know if you would like to be added to the list and/or if I forgot to add you!)

#booklovingturtle writes #holly black #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #tcp #twk #qon #jurdan #jurdan fic #jude duarte #prince cardan #king cardan #jude #cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #cardan x jude

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of-nodus-tollens · 4 years

Text

Those Who Matter

Summary: Tony may not have the best childhood, but that does not mean he is without people who matter. (An AU look back at the people in Tony's life who made a difference).

Word Count: 5892 | Rating: General | Pairings: None | AO3

A/N: This is me getting back into fanfiction to deal. This was written a while ago but I’m starting to expand on it so posting on here to hopefully force me to type up four notebooks worth of stories. This is a self-indulgent fic - Lucy is my OC and my way of exploring the mcu. Not beta’d so apologies for grammatical errors.

Tony was 4 when he believed achievements was the way to gain his father’s affection. So he built his first circuit board, using scraps from his father’s discarded pile. If he found the wires and mechanics were easier to comprehend than the nuances of human interaction, he was too young to understand it. The times Howard had taken the time to talk to him were about work and Captain America’s achievements, so Tony thought it was time he did something his father would be proud of… but Howard barely glanced at the complex mechanism before brushing Tony away, failing to see the heartbreak in his child’s eyes or the smoldering heap in the garden the day after.

~*~

The Starks’ were busy people unless you are a child, in which case you get left behind a lot. With his parents' absence, Tony found solace in the only adult who would listen to him - Jarvis. And it wasn’t because it was his job, as he seemed genuinely interested in what Tony said and does, helping him with his projects. Plus it helped that he treated him like an adult, despite offering him milk and cookies.

~*~

Tony was two months shy of his seventh birthday when he built a V8 motorbike engine. Impressed and awed, Jarvis helped him put together the outer body, painting it royal blue with gold accents. On the day of his birthday, Jarvis presented him with a helmet with matching colours and allowed him to ride it in the sizable driveway on the condition it is only to be used under his watchful eye and out of sight of his father, to which Tony readily agreed.

~*~

School had never been Tony’s strong suit, not because he’s not intelligent but because it bored him to tears. He was mouthy, proud, and wore his arrogance as an armour when the looks and whispers came his way. He’s different, his mind constantly on the run while everyone menders behind. It’s exhausting and lonely. So he talked to himself, to his work, to the familiar doorway as he is ushered out of his father’s presence, to the bland smile on his mother’s face… maybe someday, someone will talk back.

~*~

Maria Stark was not your conventional mother. Then again, the Starks are not your typical family. She’s a socialite who balances out her husband’s brashness and arrogance with politeness and diplomacy. And while the public was surprised by Howard’s move to settle, Maria was the partner he needed to keep him steadfast. The perfect wife, a struggling mother. She at least tries, even when she least wanted to and there’s no doubt she cares, asking after her son even as she wearily toes off her heels at the door. She listens but forgets, humming her response in lieu of answering questions and employed material possessions in place of emotional support.

~*~

Tony ran away from home when he was ten, having been told for the umpteenth time how useless and selfish he is by his father. A whisky bottle thrown in his general direction aided his decision. It wasn’t planned and he was hardly prepared, as evidenced by his lack of shoes but that was the last thing on his mind. He was certain he would not be missed when a car pulled up next to him on the dark, empty road. The passenger door popped open.

Aunt Peggy was one of the few people that Tony respected, so he clambered into the car while she waited silently behind the wheel. Tony waited expectantly for the lecture as she drove but it never came. Instead of home, she drove to a diner where the bright lights chased away the darkness. Aunt Peggy bought a banana split for him and a cup of coffee for herself. This was not what he expected, sitting in a rag-tag diner in the middle of the night, with muddied feet and blood-shot eyes.

“Stop staring, it’s unbecoming.”

Tony snapped his eyes away and started slowly into his ice-cream. Half-way through, Aunt Peggy helped herself to some too.

“Aren’t you going to yell at me?” Tony finally demanded.

Aunt Peggy raised an eyebrow, looking almost offended. “And what will that achieve?”

“Just tell me what I already know, that I’m a waste of time and space, that I’ll never be like Captain America and that I’ll amount to nothing.”

Aunt Peggy finished off her spoonful before setting down her spoon and dabbing her lips with a napkin. She planted her hands before her and fixed him with a hard look. “Anthony Edward Stark, I will only say this once so listen carefully. Just because your father is an idiot, does not mean you get to be one too. He may have many problems but you are not one of them, no matter what he says. Stand up and be brilliant. If you let people continue to tell you what you are, you will not get anywhere. We need to be our own heroes and not imprints of someone else. Do I make myself clear?”

Her expression left no room for argument. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now it’s quite late. Let’s get you home.”

Once home, Aunt Peggy left Tony in Jarvis’ capable hands, turning down his proffered cup of England’s finest in favour of “business to attend to”. Sharp steps found its way to Howard's office, the snap of the door, then the dulcet tone of her voice echoed through the mansion.

“So yelling does help.” Tony quipped when Aunt Peggy stepped out of her father’s study an hour later.

“Only when the recipient does not listen,” she replied, smoothing down her blouse and entirely unruffled.

“Thank you, Aunt Peggy.” It was heartfelt and sincere. Tony ran off before Aunt Peggy can respond.

~*~

Lucy is a mass of black curls, sharp edges, perpetual scowls and invisible scars. She is the result of Howard’s past indiscretions, a secret hidden in plain sight, a responsibility shoved onto others as a form of goodwill, for the Jarvis’ had always wanted a child.

(Tony wondered if he would be in the same position if not for his mother).

He was sworn to secrecy - the family’s reputation and business on the line. If the request came from anyone but his mother, he was not sure he would have agreed. As it is, he was amazed he was allowed to spend part of his summer vacation with the Jarvis’.

His intentions were not entirely innocent - part curiosity and part vindictiveness at finding proof to put a hole in his father’s holier-than-thou image.

The Jarvis’ live on a ranch (Maria Stark’s family ranch to be exact), a dream of Ana’s since childhood, complete with horses and stables and more green space than Tony knew what to do with. But the Jarvis’ put him to good use, fixing equipment and improving the machinery. It was good to feel useful and appreciated as Ana fussed over him.

Unsurprisingly, Lucy resented his presence, going out of her way to stay out of his way. Admittedly, Tony might have laid on his Stark-ness a little thick, showing off in an effort to ensure he would not be another passerby. It never occurred to him that she would be jealous, not for being him or the fact that he’s a Stark, but of his relationship with the Jarvis’.

Tony has never hit a girl before but that was before Lucy tackled him and then they were brawling in the hay and god knows what else, fists and hay flying, the horses' protests adding to the cacophony of their incoherent yells.

It ended in a splash of cold water, both literally and metaphorically, when Tony saw Jarvis’ face and realised he may have failed one of the few people who cared about him.

They were separated and tended to - bruises and scratches and what will be an impressive shiner on Tony’s face. There was confusion and anger and disappointment too but… “You have never and will never fail me, Tony. I know your heart and that is what matters.”

Tony remained quiet, unsure if this comment would be whipped away at a moment’s notice or safe to use as a balm to soothe the cracks in his heart. But Jarvis’ hand on his shoulder told him this was his to keep.

There was a new calm in the air now the storm has passed. Tony wasn’t sure what was said to Lucy for she was now civil and her glares had dulled around the edges.

It probably helped that Tony has stopped pushing her buttons.

Howard showed up two weeks short of his stay. Things must not have gone well at the meet for he was particularly ferocious with Tony. It was nothing he hasn’t heard before, a tape played so frequently on repeat that Tony had it carved behind his eyelids. Maybe because it was the disruption to the peace that Tony had found here but he bit back, words of hurt and anger flung as weapons.

Lucy found him sitting on the barrels behind the barn, fuming at the open fields. She had a rifle slung across her back and another in her hands which she wordlessly held out to him.

Tony blinked. “Are we going to have a battle to the death?”

He was graced with an eye roll. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“If you’re going to be difficult, I’ve got better things to do.”

He jumped off the barrel with all the vitality of a 13-year-old and took the proffered weapon. She led him to the outer fields where cans lined a crooked fence before giving him a thorough drill on firearm safety and showing him the basics on operating the gun (filled with blanks of course). A quick demonstration showed off her prowess. Tony hit the fence and the air several times before he tagged his target with a satisfactory clang. He grinned.

“Not bad, kid.”

“I’m only 2 years younger than you.”

“Not bad, brat.” She took another can down. “But brats don’t deserve to be treated so poorly.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” A beer bottle flew backwards.

“That’s why we’re here, and why I’m probably going to have my head handed to me if we get found.”

“The Jarvis’... your parents, they’re cool.”

There was a pause in which Tony waited for Lucy to accept the olive branch he was offering - an apology and acknowledgement.

“They are. You’re welcome to borrow them once in a while, but you gotta return them at the end of the day.”

Tony smirked. “Deal.”

(They did get caught but Tony took full responsibility. They were let off the hook with full night duties and knowing looks.)

~*~

Having a nanny at 14 is still a sore point for Tony. Not only that, but she’s also a small-time thief, taking items from the household and snooping around, constantly trying to get into Howard’s study to no avail.

Even worse, Tony is now stuck with her for 3 days whilst his parents visit Germany on a business trip.

He was woken up on the second night by a tapping on his window and Lucy hanging off his window ledge.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, then “How did you get here?”

“Helping a lad in distress. I heard about your nanny troubles.”

Tony groaned. This is about as flattering as it can get. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Lucy had a plan. It took the rest of the night to set it up and half of the next day snooping around and ensuring Lucy wouldn’t be found (“I took a break from a sleepover. They were wasting perfectly good cucumbers.”)

The end result had the nanny screaming from the house, babbling something about ghosts and a haunted house.

Back inside the house, or more specifically, Howard’s study, an empty television crackled merrily, an illusion still in effect. Lucy peered out from her hiding spot on the balcony, while Tony sat on the floor in his ghostly apparition get-up, a big grin on his face.

(Tony denied all knowledge of what happened as his father questioned him, claiming he was in bed and yes, his study has always been locked and no, he has not seen any ghosts, there are no such things.)

~*~

MIT came knocking and Tony received an early acceptance into one of the most prestigious schools where his intelligence was appreciated by his peers, rather than scoffed at.

Still, he kept his guard up, learning from an early age that appearances are deceiving, The Stark name carried a certain grandeur and value, and with it jealousy and those who seek to use it for their own gain.

So he kept up an easy facade of sarcasm and humour, building his charisma and charm. He partied (and drank where he could) and still passed everything with flying colours.

~*~

Honestly, he should have learnt by now that his confidence will get him into trouble. Being the youngest and the smartest can rub people the wrong way, especially for those who enjoy a certain stature.

He had been attempting to keep his drinking to a minimum by keeping busy but there was only so much he can do before the emptiness around him spurs him out, lest he even tries to call home.

The local watering hole was never short of people and before he could change his mind, Tony was enveloped in a group that he pretty sure despised him. But it seems alcohol changes much of that as they pushed more and more drinks onto him until he started agreeing to the most obscene things like making a cocktail explosion.

If he weren’t so drunk, he would have felt the solid presence behind his back before the voice spoke. And even then, it was like a delayed transmission to his brain as he struggled to stop the room spinning.

“Kid, are you alright? Are these guys bothering you?”

“Not a kid,” Tony mumbled.

“If you’re here visiting someone, I can take you to them.”

Tony shook his head which was a very bad, not good idea.

“Dude, relax, he’s with us.” one of the guys laughed.

“He shouldn’t be here.”

The voice grew louder. “You want to know who shouldn’t be here? You and your kind.”

More words were traded and a scuffle ensued. Tony's inebriated mind processed everything in slow motion.

“Hey, back off!” It took a moment for Tony to realise that those words came from him and he was suddenly standing, but the ground refused to stay still.

(Decades later, during his best man’s speech, Rhodey will fondly recall the moment that a very drunk Tony knocked himself out in an attempt to defend him. But the way Tony remembers it, was that Rhodey had his back first.)

~*~

It seemed like the unlikeliest of friendships - the straight-laced duty-bound future colonel, with a smart-ass, crazy, rich playboy. But Rhodey never judged, he took Tony the way he is and went with it, occasionally steering him back in the relatively right direction.

And Tony found, between Rhodey and Lucy, school was actually quite enjoyable, if not for educational purposes.

~*~

Rhodey and Lucy’s initial meeting was far from ideal.

Living only an (in)convenient 10 minutes away from Tony at Tufts University, Lucy became Tony’s designated driver by default. He should not be drinking, of that everyone agrees but unless there is someone tethered to him, his actions were his own. So Lucy did the next best thing and made sure someone was there for him on the condition that nights like this only occurs once a month. More often than not, she would show up in her pyjamas, study notes in hand and Twizzler in mouth as she bundled Tony into her vehicle.

So after one of those nights in which Tony managed to convince Rhodey to take a break after midterms, Tony woke up to his head being blown apart by the scream of death. Apparently, opera is a very good form of torture.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!”

By the time the request was heeded, Tony was sure blood was leaking from his ears.

“It’s not, but given how I might not even pass my exam at this point, I may not be the best person to ask.”

How passive aggressive, Tony thought.

“You know you’re speaking out loud right? And I have full control of the music.”

Tony groaned, peeling one gummy eye open to see Lucy sitting cross-legged on the bed, chewing lazily upon her favourite confectinary, “Goose, have mercy.”

“Is this going to be a thing now? Having your honey bear tag along?”

“I’m not his honey bear,” Rhodey mumbled from beside him.

“I’ve got photographic evidence,” she sounded entirely too gleeful for Tony’s liking as she waved said evidence before him. Closer inspection of the Polaroid revealed him and Rhody entwined with one another on their current mattress.

“Looks like she’s outed us, honey buns.”

“I hate you,” Rhodey groaned, then directed his unfocused gaze to Lucy, “And I don’t know you but I hate you too.”

“Now that’s what you call gratitude. You guys better hope I pass this exam or this picture is going public.”

She nudged Tony with her foot on her way out. “Water and aspirin are on the bedside table and you better be gone before I get back. Apparently, I’m getting enough action on the rumour mill without adding another person to the mix.”

“Help me out here, I’m not sure whether I should be disgusted or pleased for you.”

The answering slam of the door was unnecessarily ferocious.

“You have the most wonderful friends, Stark.” Rhodey commented.

“Don’t be jealous. You’re still my favourite, platypus.”

~*~

Tony unveiled DUM-EE at the MIT Robot Design competition, his first limited-awareness artificial intelligent robot with the personality of a gambolling puppy, eager to help but damned if it does.

It almost strangles Rhodey in its attempt to help him with his tie and ends up spilling white wine on Lucy in its enthusiasm to get her a drink.

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse things spilt on me before,” Lucy said as she wiped herself down. “Besides, it was just trying to help.”

She blinked as DUM-EE’s singular claw wrapped around her wrist and tugged it up and down. “What’s it doing?”

“DUM-EE’s saying thank-you,” Tony translated.

“Aw, you’re cute,” Lucy patted the robot.

“Hey, no, it’s not meant to be cute,” Tony intervened.

“Especially after it tried to kill me,” Rhodey added.

"Well I think he's sweet," Lucy laughed as DUM-EE swung her wrist happily.

"You would," Tony grumbled good-naturally while Rhodey struggled with the knot his tie had turned into.

Almost everyone showed up, including Jarvis and Ana. Everyone that is except his parents. Tony really shouldn’t have expected any less, but it still stung, the childish part of him hoping to hear some sort of approval. He brushed away the tightness in his chest and focussed on the people there with him.

He won first place and he tried to feel happy about it.

~*~

“Build something of value before asking me to waste my time,” was his father’s response when Tony had the very bad idea to call home.

He then proceeded with an even worse idea of mixing alcohol with sleeping tablets, and the next thing he remembers is waking up to the steady beep of a machine and a red-eyed Lucy, looking both relieved and extremely pissed off.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, only it came out as more of a croak.

She did a quick preliminary check before being satisfied enough to say, “You are a complete shithead. Try that stunt again and I will kill you myself.”

Tony wanted to point out that the point of being a doctor is not to kill people, but Lucy had already stormed out.

“I ditto what she said,” Rhodey spoke from his spot in the corner, looking tired.

“Not fair,” Tony pouted, “I’m sick and need looking after, not to be ganged up on.”

Rhodey gave him a wane smile, “She’s a spitfire that one. No way will I be getting on her bad side. Almost came to blows with your old man.”

Tony was about to make a joke when the rest of the sentence registered, “Wait, what with my father?”

“Dropped some truth bombs.” Rhody looked sombre. “Not really my place to talk about it. Best to talk to her.”

Tony debated the best way to get the story out of Rhodes when his best friend got up and stretched, eyeing the doorway where a nurse is being waylaid by Jarvis. “Looks like visiting hour is over for us. You going to be okay, Tones?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Rhodey looked sceptical but clapped Tony on the shoulder, “I'll be around if you need anything.”

Jarvis came in after Rhodey’s departure, eyes sad as he took Tony in, straightening the cover out of habit as he took the seat next to him. “You gave everyone quite a scare.”

“Obviously, not everyone.”

Jarvis acknowledged that comment with a tilt of his head. “Your father was here while you were asleep but something unexpected came up.”

“Lucy.”

“Among other things.”

“I’m sorry, Jarvis,” Tony was not one to apologise easily or at all, having been told that it was a weakness by his father. But with Jarvis, he has lost count of the number of times he has apologised and yet, it always seems inadequate.

And without fail, Jarvis responds the same way, “You are forgiven, Master Tony,” and the shame in Tony deepens all the more.

“Just promise me you will cease this unhealthy behaviour. You will do well to remember that you have those who care about your well-being.”

“I know, Jarvis. I’ll try.”

Jarvis smiled kindly, “That’s all I ask.”

~*~

It seems the Stark men are not known for their timing. By the time Tony has completely stopped caring for what his father thought of him, Howard was trying to reach out to him, claiming there are things Tony needs to know, needs to be shown but Tony hardly cared for any of that now. It’s easier not to care than to open himself up to ridicule again. Never let people see how you really feel, wasn’t that another life lesson Howard imparted to him?

“You must hate him,” Tony stated.

It was Thanksgiving. Lucy had invited both him and Rhodey to the Jarvis’ where they had finished off an interesting Hungarian feast made by Ana and now sat around a bonfire, drinking hot chocolate and roasting marshmallows.

It was nice and homely and Tony wished this was how home is.

Lucy glanced in the direction Rhodey had gone to retrieve more refreshments. He may know about the family secret but it’s not something she is comfortable talking about, even with Tony.

“To be honest, I’m pretty indifferent to him bar a couple of things.”

“He abandoned you.” Tony pointed out.

“He did, and I think we can all agree it was a shitty thing to do, but look at what I received instead,” she gestured towards the house where they can see Jarvis and Ana dancing in the living room, unaware of their audience.

“I’m not a fan of his work and I hate the way he treats you,” she absently picks at the grass at her feet. “But Jarvis has always said that family is what you choose it to be, so you know…” she gave an offhand shrug.

Tony gave a sly smile. “Careful Goose, it almost sounds like you care.”

“I will Nerf you in the ass.”

“I’ll sic Rhodey on you.”

“I’m not your bodyguard.” Rhodey retorted, settling himself down with a pack of drinks.

“Then why do I have you around?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that question?”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, we both are.” Lucy shook her head sadly.

“Here, here.” Rhodey’s bottle met hers with a clink of solidarity.

“Jarvis, I’m being ganged up on!” Tony protested, as his friends sniggered next to him.

~*~

Maria Stark was not unobservant to the divide between the two most important people in her life. The problem is she doesn’t know how to resolve it other than being the buffer; to keep the fire from spreading too widely. Tony appreciated the efforts, futile as they may be and he hated how it seem to hurt her.

“Talk to him,” she requested one day, eyes pleading in an attempt to salvage whatever moment they have left of Christmas, and Tony wished it was something as simple as him taking the first step… but it was always him and he was tired of being burnt.

“Have a good trip,” he said instead. “Love you, mum.”

Maria smiled sadly at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he turned away to avoid the look of disappointment in her eyes.

Afterwards, he only wished he walked through the fire instead.

~*~

He doesn’t remember much of the funeral, just a blur of white noise and touches from acquaintances and strangers. Rhodey was deployed somewhere (despite his best efforts to get back) and Lucy couldn’t attend for obvious reasons. Jarvis and Ana hovered close by and it was their presence which grounded him.

Lucy snuck into his room during the wake, where Tony had already retired to his bed, the tie long discarded, the buzz in his head refusing to go away. She laid down beside him, hand wrapped around his wrist. They watched the sun’s ray crawl across the ceiling until the darkness swallowed it whole and the noises faded away.

~*~

Tragedy followed in quick succession when Ana’s health took a turn for the worst and passed away shortly after. Jarvis followed in her wake. The doctors said it was old age, but those who know Jarvis understood it was from a broken heart.

The funeral was small and intimate, rather than crawling with corporate friends. Many were unsure how to approach Lucy, who is an unknown in their mind - present but unaccounted for. Instead, they offered their condolences to Tony, whose grief was hidden behind sunglasses and dulled by alcohol.

He was unsure how to offer comfort the way Lucy had to him - what does he say? What does he do? Why does he feel so inadequate? He drinks as he ponders each question until everything blurs away and the action becomes routine. There were missed calls and unopened letters and knocks on the door that goes unanswered.

That was until the day he was rudely woken up by a rush of ice water. By the time he had finished spluttering his indignation, a garbage bag was thrust into his face by a very unimpressed Peggy Carter.

Bags of accumulated bottles and cans were thrown out, surfaces wiped clean and the windows thrown open, chasing away the stench of a month’s worth of self-pity. By the time he stepped out of the shower, Tony was feeling somewhat human.

The strangest vision hit him when he followed his nose to the kitchen and found Aunt Peggy, regal and intimidating as ever in her older years, cooking him a full English breakfast.

“Stop gaping and eat.”

And eat he did. Tony was famished as he unashamedly polished off the contents of the plate in record time, no doubt demonstrating his ability as an adult to look after himself.

Silence descended when he settled his cutlery, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come. But Aunt Peggy continued to sip her tea as she perused the morning’s paper.

With a sense of deja vu and feeling very much twelve again, Tony said, “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

“Would it help?” she turned a page. For all his mouthiness, Tony just shrugged.

“You know what is wrong with the picture here. This is to ensure you start fixing it,” she levelled him with a firm but kind gaze. “Grief should enhance your purpose, not dull it. Now, you would be glad to hear that short of kicking your door in, purely due to the distance I suspect, Colonel Rhodes has successfully filled your answering machine to capacity with some rather colourful messages. There are also some earlier letters from him, accompanied by some rather crude drawings, courtesy of Dr Ogden.”

Tony’s spirits lifted for the first time in a month, which must have shown on his face for Aunt Peggy said, “You are not without people who care about you, Anthony. It is not something to be taken lightly.”

“And before you ask,” Aunt Peggy went on. “Your privacy was invaded for security reasons. Your father made many enemies and they would find this an opportune moment not to be missed.”

“Actually, I was going to ask how you knew about Lucy,”

“I worked closely with your father for many years. Mr. Jarvis too, who was my ‘sidekick’ for a while. His words, not mine.” she added unnecessarily with a small smile. “He was my confidante and I his. So yes, I know about Lucy.”

Shame welled up in Tony as it occurred to him that he wasn’t the only person to have lost someone he cared for.

“All is not lost, Anthony. If you want to prove your father wrong, make your own mistakes, don’t tread in his footsteps. Stop living like a Neanderthal, mend your bridges, and use that intelligence under all that belligerence.”

~*~

Admittedly, Tony still had a lot to learn about mending bridges. Calling was a lot harder than apology gifts. Same with home visits. He just can’t seem to make that reach. Shame and fear continued to tighten his chest.

The decision was taken out of his hand when he received a phone call from Metro-General hospital. He arrived in a daze, positive that he had broken half a dozen traffic laws but uncaring in the least.

He was directed to a room where he was pulled up short by Rhodey’s presence, looking calm and collected. Approaching footsteps preceded a harried-looking Lucy, who took one look at the occupants of the room (eyes resting on Tony for a moment longer), glanced back down at the pager in her hand and asked, “How the hell is this a 911?”

Rhodey crossed the room and locked the door with a click. When he turned around, he had pulled himself to his full height and even without his dress uniform, his stance commanded authority and respect. It was impressive, if not at all imposing.

“You two are going to be quiet and let me talk because this has gone on for long enough.”

Lucy groaned. “I really don’t need another lecture.”

At Rhodey’s look, she sighed, lifted both hands in surrender and leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t know if this is a Stark family trait but you two should know better. You,” he pointed at Lucy, “need to stop running away. And you,” he turned to Tony, “need to stop throwing money at problems to make them disappear. You two need to talk and we’re not leaving here until you do because as emotionally stunted as you guys are, I’m not going to sit by and let this crash and burn.”

Tony was scrutinising Rhodey in what he thought was a subtle way, “You’re mad at me,” and the fact that he seemed resigned like it proved him right, made Rhodey’s chest hurt, even if he was pissed off. But he had to remind himself that Tony had spent his short life being proven he was a disappointment to the person who mattered the most to him and expected everyone to do the same.

“I’m upset,” he acknowledged and Tony nodded expectantly, “because you expect me to walk away and not care as if our friendship doesn’t matter. You’re an ass but you’re my ass and that won’t stop me from punching your face if you make a flippant remark right now because I don’t need it. You’ve made your feelings about me clear but I’ll be damned if you two sink too.”

It was more than Rhodey had expected to say but it’s out in the open. At least it won’t be a complete waste of his requested leave of duty.

“It does matter, Rhodey. Our friendship,” Tony clarified, hesitant and uncertain. “I’m just not so good with the whole - “ he gestured aimlessly.

“They’re called feelings, Tony.” Rhodey supplied, amused despite himself.

Tony made a face. “Is that what it is? Yuck.”

“Glad to see age hasn’t affected your maturity.”

“I’m a dick and that probably won’t change but I’ll try to do better,” Tony promised.

“Okay.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, "Okay?"

"Okay." Rhodey reaffirms.

A shrill beep interrupted the moment and they both turned to Lucy, who glanced at her pager before pocketing it. Somewhere between Tony and Rhodey’s heart to heart, she had deposited herself on the floor, cross-legged.

“Goose?”

She shook her head even as she avoided his gaze, “No, you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“I tried to get in touch with you,” Tony thought of the time he hovered outside her apartment building, working up the courage to knock.

“She went AWOL.” Rhodey provided, tone non-accusatory, just a simple fact.

“I was travelling.” Lucy snapped. “Whose side are you on?”

“Just trying to mend bridges here,” Rhodey said calmly.

“You can only mend something if it was there to begin with.”

Ouch.

Glances were exchanged between the guys and Lucy’s ire grew to expand the hurt in her heart, the one she refused to acknowledge as she traversed unknown terrains in an effort to escape what she thought she knew. And as much of a genius as Tony is, it occurred to him he knew nothing at all if he only just realised what must have been going through Lucy’s mind. He crouched down before her.

“I’m sorry Luce, I didn’t mean to leave you. I just didn’t know how to help you the way you helped me.” I didn’t want to leave a damaged boy for you to look after.

There was a sniffle, “Goddamnit, Tony, I just needed you by my side. Not your money or your status, just you.” Her eyes were wet as she finally looked at him. “But you weren’t there even when I reached out. So yeah, I ran because it’s easier than being unwanted. And now you’re making me cry and you just really suck.”

Tony reached out tentatively to grasp her wrist, the way she use to comfort him. “I know I do and I know it’s a bit late to say this but you’re not unwanted. I’m here if you’re crazy enough to want me around and I promise I won’t leave, no matter how annoying you are.”

A wet laugh escapes Lucy. “I’ll hold you to that.”

(Later, Lucy would drag herself back to her shoebox apartment, eyes blurred with exhaustion and proceeded to throw herself onto the couch, only to scream with terror at the bodies that were already on there, as well as the box of cold pizza. The next morning found Tony and Rhodey with bright pink toenails - a sign their relationship has returned to normal.)

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu ff #iron man #iron man fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #my writing

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our-smooty · 4 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 2

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

“Oh Crowley,” the angel moaned right in his ear, breath hot and damp and making the baby hairs near his temple stick down. Crowley was pressed into the bed below Aziraphale, the entirety of his back in contact with glorious, soft skin. The hot hardness of Aziraphale’s cock inside him, splitting him open and really making him feel it. “So good, love, so good for me.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned into the pillows, canting his hips back, trying to get more of the angel inside him. Aziraphale’s cock was thick and long, hitting all those perfect spots inside. “Aziraphale yes.”

“I’m not going to last dear.” Crowley shuddered and thrust his hips again, trying to force Aziraphale to move. It worked and the angel began pulling back, then thrusting in at a slow, indulgent pace. “You’re so wet for me, so soft.”

“For you, angel, for you--!” And it was true, Crowley had never felt this way with anyone else. He’d had many human partners over the years, some he’d even sort of cared for, but none of them could compare to what he felt for Aziraphale. His love for the angel was a white-hot, burning thing that ate up anything in it's wake. “Take me, take me, take me.”

"I will,” Aziraphale answered darkly, keeping the slow speed but pushing in harder and there--! “I’m going to take everything you can give me Crowley, and then I’m going to give it all back.”

That was a very Aziraphale way of saying he was going to cum inside the demon, filling him up in that way Crowley craved from time to time. Tonight he’d practically begged for it, rutted into Aziraphale’s lap as he read until the angel noticed the dampness seeping from Crowley’s sex onto their trousers. Crowley hadn’t outright said anything, but Aziraphale always seemed to just know what he needed.

“Oh please angel, do it, do it!” Crowley was mindless with pleasure, clawing at the bed and howling as each thrust pummeled his g-spot. His clit barely brushed the bedsheets on the downswing but it didn’t matter, he was going to cum no matter what. Even though he’d already come twice with Aziraphale eating him out and once from his fingers. Whenever Aziraphale took it upon himself to spoil Crowley he always did a very thorough job.

Aziraphale removed his hands from where they’d been pinning Crowley’s arms to the bed to ghost over his hips. One of them cupped the demon’s lower belly, pressing and kneading at the flesh there. Crowley moaned at the added pressure. Though it really shouldn’t have, it shot a bolt of lust through him. There was something about the protectiveness and maybe the possessiveness of the action that made things that much more intense.

“Built to take me--oh Crowley good Lord you wicked, lovely thing!” Aziraphale was babbling but Crowley didn’t care. He liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice, and he especially liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice say those things. There was a gathering heat in his belly, right under the angel’s hands and he began whining, high pitch and needy.

All of a sudden the only thing he could think about was how it would feel when Aziraphale came inside him. How wet he’d be, the noises, the sticky-satisfied feeling he’d leave behind. How Aziraphale would, possibly, beg to eat him out afterward. What would happen if Crowley, for just one brief second, gave in and tweaked his anatomy, switched a few things on. The mere idea of having something of Aziraphale and him inside him, some proof of their love and their devotion to each other, was enough to make him clench down subconsciously.

“O-oh Crowley!” Aziraphale stammered his cock thickening and then spilling honestly excessive amounts of cum inside him. Between the pressure of the angel’s hand on his belly and the swelling of the cock inside Crowley felt so full, so full--he couldn’t help but come, convulsing against the sheets with a strangled, low moan.

The moments between when they came and when Aziraphale pulled out were nothing but warm, contented bliss for Crowley. He couldn’t have cared less about what was going on around him; his mind was stuck somewhere in that gentle, soft place created by the bed and Aziraphale’s weight on his back. He’d been right, things felt downright soaked down there, and the stickiness was more than a little unpleasant. It was worth it though, for a sense of pure satisfaction he felt. Behind him, Aziraphale was nuzzling against his spine, staying as close as possible.

“Crowley?” the angel hummed, voice sleepy and sated. Crowley wiggled happily, grinding his arse back against the soft cock still pinned there.

“M’good angel, s’good,” he slurred. There was cum leaking out of him and onto the bedsheets. He reached down to stick a few fingers inside, keeping it there for a little while longer. “Why’d you pull out?”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, darling,” Aziraphale answered. “Normally you’re so sensitive after.”

“I am sensitive, that’s what makes it good,” Crowley laughed, shuddering as Aziraphale ghosted his hands over his hips and arse. They could go again, of course they could they weren’t actually human. They could fuck as many times as they wanted in a row without the need to stop and rest if they so chose. It just happened both of them both chose to let themselves be a little more human than the average demon or angle. Eventually, Crowley removed his fingers from his cunt and Aziraphale rolled onto his side, pulling Crowley along with him so they were spooning.

“Are you tired?” Crowley asked. Sometimes Aziraphale didn’t feel like sleeping, though he did so much more often now that they lived together. Crowley still preferred to sleep on a regular schedule, however, so he always asked before passing out and trapping the angel.

“Very, you wore me out thoroughly, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured into Crowley’s hair. It’d come free of the braid the demon normally kept it in and fell in sweaty hanks around his shoulders. Between that and the drying cum between his legs, Crowley was beginning to feel uncomfortable, so with a snap, they were both clean and the bed linens were fresh.

“Good, wanna sleep with you.” He was already drifting off when he felt Aziraphale shifting behind him, running soft hands up and down his sides. Usually, when they were about to sleep, Aziraphale would go still and silent. Even after 10 years of sporadic sleeping, it didn’t come naturally. But now he was moving, keeping Crowley awake with his constant petting.

“I wanted to ask if you’ve given any more thought to that… thing we talked about a few days ago?” Aziraphale’s voice was still quiet, but much less sleepy than Crowley’s own.

“What thing?” He was more interested in getting reacquainted with their comfy pillow and sheet set than doing much thinking. The 1000 thread-count sheets had been one of his choices since Aziraphale knew nothing about fabrics outside of his clothes. The colour had been a compromise, a nice earthy green that they could both agree on (though Aziraphale had fought long and hard for tartan, Crowley stood his ground).

“The, well, the baby thing?”

For a few moments, Crowley could only think about the strange thoughts that had taken over him right as they both climaxed. They’d been nice thoughts, little fantasies he’d planned on keeping to himself. But they were fantasies and he knew that. Apparently the angel couldn’t understand that.

“Told you no, thought I made that clear,” he said, sobering some and shaking off the afterglow. His desire to snuggle further into the pillows and sheets was immediately crushed; all he could think about was getting away from this conversation. “You said you wouldn’t keep going on about it.”

“But you want the same as me, Crowley, I can feel it!” So much for sleeping in his nice comfy bed. Crowley slithered out from under Aziraphale’s arm and to the edge of the bed. Sure, Azirahale could feel things in the way that angels and demons could feel lots of things others were experiencing, but it was all up to interpretation. Crowley wanted, yes he wanted, but there was a difference between wanting and getting that his angel didn’t seem to understand. “It’s not like you to be scared like this! Id we could just talk--”

“Shut, up!” Crowley seethed, willing his legs not the shake as he left the bed in search of his trousers. Surely there was a bar open somewhere where he could drink himself silly and no one would try and talk to him. Or maybe he could take the Bently out for a drive, burn off all this extra feeling on a long country road.

“I don’t even think this is about Heaven and Hell!” Aziraphale shouted from where he sat on the bed, arms crossed and face ruddy. “Crowley I see how you look at the girls, how you never want to leave after our meetings with them. And I’ve seen you for 6000 years being especially kind of children. I can sense love and you love children. I’ve never known you to let Above or Below stop you from getting something you want. Why now, that we’re finally free to--”

“We are a demon and an angel! Can you even imagine the things Heaven and Hell would do to get their hands on our children? You remember what they did to the Nephilim, yes? How they were destroyed, or turned into monsters haunting the lowest pits of Hell? N-now think, just God-damned think Aziraphale, if that was our kid! I couldn’t live with myself if that happened, or if they came out all wrong because of what I am, or--”

“Because of what you are?” Aziraphale interrupted brown furrowing. “Crowley is this about you being a demon?”

“Of course it’s about me being a demon! We don’t even know if an angel and a demon can… and if we can if the demon bits will work with the angel bits or if they’ll just ruin everything. Oh Somebody what if they turned out s-sick or s-something, because of--” He hadn’t even considered the fact that him being a demon could taint the kid. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought about it because kids could not happen. And if they didn’t happen, he didn’t have to think about how his Fall was still torturing him over 6000 years later.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called, getting out of the bed and rushing over to where Crowley had stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Crowley dear calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to bloody calm down! I told you to drop it! And you won’t stop asking! It can’t happen!” He was getting hysterical now. Hadn’t they been over this before? Why did Aziraphale have to keep dragging everything back up? Rubbing what they couldn’t have in his face over and over. There were tears at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t sure if they were from anger or frustration. Aziraphale stood a few feet away hovering guilty.

“It’s not fair!” Crowley bemoaned through clenched teeth. That was the core of it, wasn’t it? That they could have anything they wanted not, except for this. Because he’d asked questions, stupid questions 6000 years ago. The regret was strong enough to make him gag a little. “If I h-hadn’t Fallen, we could h-have--”

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “I didn’t realize--I’m sorry.” Aziraphale was often a little tone-deaf to situations like that, but he usually knew not to push once Crowley said no. Stupid, headstrong angel, who was moving too fast now?

“I told you we can’t, you said you’d drop it but you aren’t.” He took a deep breath before turning away from the angel to look for his shirt. “You aren’t fucking listening to me, I said we can’t! I can’t! And you going on and on about it isn’t going to change that!”

Aziraphale watched him get dressed silently. It was unusual for the angel to have nothing to say, but then again it was also unusual for Crowley to get this upset. Crowley rarely raised his voice, not in anger at least, and never towards Aziraphale. The fact that he’d gotten close made it abundantly clear that unless one of them backed off, this fight was going to cause some serious damage.

“I think I’m gonna go back to my flat for a while, cool off.” It nearly physically hurt him to say, but it was necessary. If Crowley didn’t put some distance between them now he knew from experience that one of them would say something truly hurtful. But even if it was for the best, it was still extremely difficult.

“O-oh,” Aziraphale whispered, hie eyes immediately beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. Crowley had kept flat for instances like this, where one or both of them needed time to themselves. He hadn’t had to use it very often in the last decade, but there were occasions where one of them felt strongly about something, and the other disagreed, so it had come in handy. The transition from hereditary enemies to lovers wasn’t always as smooth as expected.

“I’ll be back in a few days, call if you need anything.” Of course he’d answer if Aziraphale needed anything, he wasn’t that mad. The angel wiped at his eyes and nodded glumly. It was a sorry sight, and enough to make Crowley soften a little. “Two days, OK? Just give me some time.”

Aziraphale looked up and offered a sheepish look. “Yes, OK. I’m sorry dearest.” Suddenly he seemed to remember he was completely naked and snapped his fingers so a soft, taupe robe fell around his form. “If you could let me know you’re alright… I would appreciate it.”

Crowley sighed again then snapped his own fingers so he was wearing a full outfit. It was late outside, and getting colder, so he added a jacket and scarf before turning to leave. “I’ll text you, angel. Get some sleep.”

The Bently was, of course, waiting for him in the driveway where he’d left it after running out to pick up lunch. Crowley stalked over to it and flung himself into the drivers seat. Right before he pulled out he saw a swish of the curtains to their bedroom window, then a shock of light hair. It really was hard to stay mad at the angel. But if 10 years of cohabitation and 6000 years of waiting had taught him anything, it was that boundaries were important. And Aziraphale had stamped all over his.

#fanfic #mpreg #tw mpreg #crowziraphale #crowley #amazing #ineffable husbands #good omens #gomens #aziraphale #fbafs

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