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vinxhwrites · 5 months

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note: this is the result of a crazy writing frenzy I was in last night, I went a bit feral over this idea and I don't know where this story is going. Also I spiraled after I read this. anywayyy hope you enjoy this drabble.

pairing: f!reader x price (x ghost - maybe eventually?)

summary: After going to work in the military you develop a weird relationship dynamic with your captain, and soon you find out you're not the only one.

word count: 2.7k

cw: 18+, daddy kink (!), probably inaccurate job descriptions/situations, pet names, a little bit of angst, a little bit of h/c; reader is kind of a crybaby; not proofread;

You couldn't explain the story of how you got yourself in this situation if you tried. You were barely able to understand it yourself. Yet, here you were, sobbing in your captain's arms at his office, way past your working hours, calling him daddy and praying that he'd kiss you.

You had a hard day, as it was pretty common nowadays.

You certainly weren't fit for this work environment and you were painfully aware of it. It didn't matter how much you tried you couldn't get past this fact: you were an academic. You weren't used to the discipline, the hierarchy, and the life-engulfing aspects of the military.

When you had accepted the job 8 months prior, it really was the salary that convinced you, if you were being honest about it. You had been living on scholarships most of your adult life and it was getting kind of tiring. A part of you wanted to refuse out of a moral stance, but you didn't.

You were fresh out of a linguistics PhD program at the time, and you excelled as a student and researcher, but your skills were very specific and not that marketable. Your mom was probably right when she tried to dissuade you from dedicating your time to mostly dead and made-up languages, but you were too stubborn to listen at the time, although her greatest concerns were, as usual, well-founded. Needless to say, the opportunity came at the right time.

It seemed urgent and they tested you relentlessly. It was clear to you from the beginning that no one there was thrilled to resort to a civilian linguist. It was fun, though, and you passed the tests as if they were silly little puzzles you do to relax. And you were the only candidate to be able to decently decipher the completely made-up languages and codes that were used in the telegraphs they gave you.

They hired you on an 18-month contract for two different jobs: translating and decrypting intercepted messages for a task force, and also training their own linguists to do what you did. If you were good at it, you wouldn't be needed anymore.

The task force was nice enough, all four of them treated you well and didn't bother you much. At first, it was a bit disconcerting, but by now you've gotten used to how attractive they all were to the point where it almost didn't affect you anymore.

All of them called you birdie. You liked it, it made you feel included to have a little nickname. Soap was the one to come up with it on the second week you were working with them "Some birds know many languages." he had explained, clarifying: "Bird languages, ye know". The original explanation made you smile, but the addition made you blush "Plus, ye're cute like a little birdie"

The training part though wasn't going so well. You were almost 100% sure that all six of the students hated you. It seemed offensive to them to have to sit down and learn anything from you. In the beginning, you did your best to be pleasant, to do the best job you could, and maybe win them over. But at this point, you just wanted to be done with it and never look at any of those people ever again.

They were building a computer program to do your job apart from the classes. You felt offended at first at how they didn't even hide the fact that you would be used and then replaced by a more efficient machine, but you were now praying that they'd get it done as quickly as possible. The program was really good at pattern recognition, but it still wasn't good enough at semantics, and it lacked any nuance of interpretation.

The only thing that made you want to stay a little longer was this thing with Captain Price. It had started innocent enough, he took pity on you when he noticed you struggling with the new environment. He said some kind and assuring words here and there when he noticed how much the students tormented you, and he'd reprehend anyone who dared to disrespect you in front of him.

Eventually, Price casually invited you to work in his office if you wanted to, being away from other people seemed to ease your nerves a bit. He didn't mind, he assured you, it was nice to have some company. More than that, he genuinely found your job fascinating and always asked you to show him how you did it in his free time.

He sometimes brought you tea the afternoons you spent there, he'd accidentally brush his arm against yours, or touch your leg with his knee when you sat beside him. At first, he'd correct the movement, but it evolved to not correcting it, to then doing it intentionally.

They were simple touches, a little pat on your shoulder here, brushing your hair out of your face there, every single one made you shiver. One day he made a comment about how uncomfortable you looked on the chair and pulled your legs to rest on his lap while he worked. That was the first night you allowed yourself to fantasize about him to sleep.

John had a warm and comforting presence, and you were genuinely disappointed when he wasn't around, finding comfort in the fact that he gave you a copy of his office keys, so you could work there even when he wasn't present.

Ghost was there sometimes, seemingly preferring to work from Price's office as well. At first, he seemed to get disconcerted by your presence, probably a bit annoyed that he had to share the space with you, you thought.

He was never rude to you, just awfully quiet, even when it was just the two of you there. He nodded at you when you greeted him, and often sat on the big sofa on the corner or even on the floor. You offered him the desk many times, feeling a bit guilty for taking up so much space, but you noticed he only accepted when he seemed truly tired. Despite the unsettling silence, you thought he was a gentleman.

You first thought that John had somehow hypnotized you when you noticed the subtle ways in which your heart lost its pace whenever he commanded you to do something. He rarely asked without a smile, a polite inclination "dear, will you please file these reports for me?" "can you please grab me a cup of coffee?". He'd only deviate you from your tasks like this when he seemed to be in a bad mood, you noticed. It was never about anything urgent, and it was always when you were clearly already busy. In spite of it, you were never able to say no. He seemed to derive pleasure from bossing you around like that, but you knew he didn't have to remind you of the power he had over you, as it always hovered on your mind. Either way, soon enough you were painfully aware of the fact that you'd do absolutely anything he asked you to.

But you knew, for sure, that you were in trouble when you realized you got aroused anytime he'd compliment your work. Getting his praise started to be a more important goal to you than anything else. Earning a "good girl" was a rare occurrence, but it never failed to make your day.

One day he found you crying, and you couldn't quite explain what it was with words without feeling ridiculous. After what they called a "successful mission" it dawned on you that the information you were extracting out of those telegraphs really was being used to kill people. Those weren't your silly little puzzles.

"Criminals" Soap had corrected you as you tried to articulate your despair, much to your dismay. He wheezed as if your frame of thought was absolutely hilarious. "Shouldn't be here if you'll react like that, birdie" he had said and you wanted to scream.

"You'll get used to it" Gaz had assured you, sending a disapproving look towards Soap.

Later, the more you tried to express your frustration to John the more you cried, sobbing pathetically. It was the first time he hugged you, shielding you from the world around you for a minute.

"You don't understand..." you tried to explain, but you cut the sentence short at his stern look.

"I do understand," he said frowning, keeping his hand firm on your back. He took a deep breath and leaned down a bit to look you in the eyes "Listen, you do a good job, sweetie. You're doing good things, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes" he assured you.

You nodded and tried to get the crying under control, suddenly aware that you probably looked terrible.

John cupped your face in his hands.

"Why don't you get the rest of the day off and get some rest, huh?" he suggested kindly "come to me if you need to talk."

After that, he got more and more comfortable being physically close to you. It quickly evolved, as you enjoyed being close to him a bit too much. Sometimes he'd squeeze your hand in his when you sat beside him behind his desk very casually and, sometimes, you'd rest your head on his shoulder while he worked. Saying you were in love felt like an understatement, but you'd never make it real by saying it out loud.

You once made a joke in passing about how your dad left you and your family, but he didn't laugh. He tilted his head and looked worried instead. I'm here if you want to talk he said, and it made you want to bury your head in the dirt.

Price called you many things, at first it was dear, sweetie, birdie, love, and finally, he settled with baby.

"what are you doing there, baby?" he just asked casually one day, and you almost gasped, feeling your heart attempt to leave your chest.

Although your relationship with him wasn't sexual in practice, it certainly was sexualized in essence. To you it was, at least. Oedipal if you were to be honest with yourself.

The first time he called himself your daddy it simultaneously broke and healed something in your brain. He chuckled at your reaction, how you looked at him wide-eyed and full of hope, hiding your face on his chest next.

"thank you, sir" you whispered then, pathetically.

You feared at times that your affection to him was one-sided, that he saw comforting you like this as a part of his job, a strange but effective one as well. You wondered if it made you weak, you didn't even try to be brave and deal with things alone anymore, you were aware of how childish it was to knock on his door looking for daddy's embrace at the slightest inconvenience. But you couldn't help it, it was too comforting to give up.

And that's the exact position you were in now. You had a bad day so you came running to him. He was awfully kind to you, as usual, and you prayed that it was a sign of enjoyment, that he actually liked comforting you like this.

You didn't notice when Simon came in. He froze by the door, and the captain just signaled for him to close it. John still had his arm wrapped around you, a hand stroking your hair.

"Shhh, it's ok now" he cooed at you "daddy's here."

Simon watched as you melted in his arms at the words, your breathing easing instantly. Again, you felt as if hypnotized. Your body responded to his words before your mind could catch up with them.

You wanted him even closer, you wanted to curl up on his lap, and have him rock you like a baby. Most of all, you wanted him to kiss you. You craved the touch of his lips on yours and the thought clouded your mind. Just that week you had already masturbated to the thought of him twice. Although you always reprehended yourself afterward, it didn't work to make these thoughts go away.

You rehearsed in your mind the idea of looking up and kissing him but didn't build enough courage to do it. You thought you'd die if he ever rejected you.

"That's it, you're ok," John said when he noticed the pace of your breathing ease, with his cheek pressed to the top of your head "I've got you, baby" he pressed kisses to your hairline. You sniffed, using your sleeve to clean the tears from your cheek.

"Now, be a good girl and go get some sleep," he said and you nodded against his chest, inhaling the warm smell of his shirt and suffering with the upcoming separation already "Ghost will take you to bed".

You raised your head and blinked at him, and that's when you finally noticed the tall figure close to the door, unmoved. You wiped your tears, distressed. For how long had he been there?

"Will you guide her to her room, lieutenant?" John asked him calmly, as if you didn't find yourself in the most embarrassing of situations.

"Yes, sir" Simon responded in the same tone.

The walk back to your room was painfully silent. The corridor around you was dark and empty. Your entire body was tense, and you walked fast trying to keep up with Simon's pace, hoping that he'd just say something and put you out of your angst, but he didn't.

When you finally reached your door, he opened it and waited for you to go inside.

"I'm sorry that you saw that" you blurted out, cheeks flushed pink "I-I don't know what to say. It's really not like that...-"

"It's OK" he interrupted when he noted the despair in your voice. He tilted his head a bit, evaluating your expression "I get it." there was something mischievous in his eyes, and you wondered if he was smiling at you behind the mask.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

He nodded, and you relaxed a bit "I'm sorry you had a shitty day, birdie"

"It's okay"

"Tell me if you need anything." he said before signaling for you to enter your bedroom again, you thanked him quietly and closed the door.

Simon went back to Price's office in hurried steps, letting out a sigh when he entered. He was exhausted.

His captain was seated on the sofa, reports spread on the coffee table in front of him and a cigar put out on the ashtray beside him.

"Come here" John said, his eyes didn't move from the papers in his hands.

Simon took off his boots and mask before curling up on the sofa, resting his head on the captain's legs, and finally taking a deep breath as John started to brush his fingers through his hair.

"Don't know what to do with her" John murmured, more to himself than to start a conversation.

Simon hummed in response, his eyes felt heavy, and he could no longer keep them open.

"She's such a sensitive little thing..." John continued, seemingly lost in thought.

"She's cute" the lieutenant murmured, the drowsiness that flooded his brain making it almost impossible to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah" John chuckled lightly. "Well, don't worry about it." he assured, taking his attention back to petting Simon's hair "How are you?"

"Fine" he purred, getting comfortable on the sofa, even though it was a bit too small for him.

John hummed as he stroked Simon's cheek lightly "my pretty boy"

He watched Simon as he let his eyes rest completely and his body relax, being taken by slumber in a matter of seconds.

John continued to read reports well into the night, only waking Simon up, gently, when he finally decided to get some sleep himself. He accompanied Simon to his bedroom before moving to his own, patting him on the shoulder before sending him to bed. It was easier for Simon to fall asleep on his own then, as it usually was, after he had already been nursed to sleep beforehand.

#don't look at me!!#my dad died before my brain fully developed guys :/#i have serious daddy issues #cod x reader #captain price #john price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #captain john price

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werewolfnightwalker · 4 months

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De-aged Keigo

Part two!

The whole League stared as Dabi stepped through the villa's front door, his arms protectively wrapped around his cargo.

"What have you got there, Dabi?" Compress asked.

"The hell does it look like?" Dabi snapped back, tightening his arm around the bedraggled, winged boy in his arms as he stomped the snow off his boots, "It's Hawks."

"Uh… Hawks is a grown man, bro!" Twice pointed out.

"Thanks, Sherlock, I didn't realize." Dabi stopped just inside the living room, keeping his distance from the others, "He got hit by a de-aging Quirk while we were out. It's not going to last forever, but for the moment our little birdie is three years old." He looked down at the boy in his arms, his heart twinging.

Hawks was clinging to him like he was terrified of being put down, his face buried in Dabi's collar and clawed hands fisted in the back of his jacket. Even now that they were inside, the pitiful thing was shivering violently. Although his eyes were closed, his whole body was tense, alert; he was pretending to sleep, and Dabi assumed it was to avoid having to meet the others.

He couldn't say he blamed him; it had been difficult to get him to trust him when the Quirk first hit him, an hour or so ago. Hawks had panicked and ran away from him, only to faint once he got outside, from- as far as Dabi could figure out- a mix of hunger and the cold. Dabi had picked him up from there, and spent the whole walk back reassuring him that he was a friend. When he mentioned getting Hawks some food, the kid had finally seemed to give up struggling.

Good to know his younger self was as much of a glutton as his adult self, Dabi had mused. Now, he strode past everyone and made for the kitchen, shouldering the door open.

"Wait, where are you going? I wanna see him!" Toga cried, and Dabi felt Hawks flinch.

"Keep your voice down and your hands to yourself." He snapped over his shoulder, "I'm getting him some food. If you want to be useful, go get me some warm clothes he can wear."

He ignored Toga's grumbling as he slipped into the kitchen, kicking the door shut behind him. "Hey, little bird." He spoke softly as he looked down at his armload, "We're alone now, you can stop faking. I'm going to put you down, okay?" That said, he stepped up to the counter and gently lowered Hawks onto it, until his rump hit the granite countertop. He tried to move away, but Hawks held fast, letting out a shaky whimper.

"Cold-" He gasped, gilded eyes flying open in panic.

For some reason, Dabi couldn't stop himself from immediately pulling him back into his arms. "Alright, alright." He sighed as Hawks melted against him again. He… supposed he could make something to eat like this. He adjusted Hawks onto his hip and went to the pantry to see what they had. "How does ramen sound?" He asked.

Hawks didn't answer, but Dabi pulled two of the instant cups out and put them on the counter. He had to tear the top off with his teeth, but it was easy to turn the sink on and stick the cup under it to fill it. He stuck the cup in the microwave and stepped back, leaning on the counter to wait.

"You okay, birdie?" He asked, glancing down into the fluffy head of hair on his shoulder.

Hawks made a sad warbling sound, his wings fluffing and settling. "I'm okay." He mumbled, just as his stomach growled loudly.

"Uh-huh. Just hang on, food's cooking." Dabi promised, glancing up as he heard the door open. Twice, Spinner, and Toga were peering at them through a crack in the door. Dabi bared his teeth at them, but the numbskulls didn't seem to get the clear "fuck off" message.

"Hiii, Hawksie!" Toga cooed. Hawks turned his head to peer at her, his hand fisting on Dabi's shoulder. He didn't answer her, but Dabi didn't step in, waiting to see what he'd do.

"Oh… he's precious! I wanna eat him!" Twice gasped.

Hawks whimpered at that, his wings bushing and curling around him. "No one is eating you, birdie." Dabi assured him, just as the microwave went off. He stood up and pulled the cup out before grabbing a fork and stirring it. He tore the flavor packet open, once again with his teeth, and added it before giving it another stir. "Okay, here, bug. Eat." He pushed the cup into his hand before adjusting his grip on him.

"How come you get to hold him?" Twice complained.

"Because I'm not creeping on him while he's trying to eat." Dabi huffed.

"Dabi's warm." Hawks mumbled into his noodles, surprising Dabi and the others.

"Exactly." Dabi said smugly, "You lot scram, let the kid eat in peace." He walked over to the door and forced it shut with his boot, ignoring their complaints as he looked down at Hawks. "Enjoying your noodles, birdie?"

"Mhm." Hawks gulped up a mouthful, before twirling another portion onto his fork and holding it up, offering it to Dabi.

Dabi dutifully leaned in and took the bite, slurping the noodles into his mouth loudly.

To Dabi's amazement, Hawks giggled, before seeming startled by his own action. He fluffed his wings and looked away, like he was embarrassed, but Dabi watched him as he took another bite of noodles and 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘥 them up, too.

After a few more bites, he glanced at Dabi again. "Who are they?" He asked.

"Who?"

"The girl, and the man in the mask, and the turtle?"

"He's a lizard." Dabi corrected.

"Are they your friends?"

"Uh… in a sense." He wasn't about to tell a kid they were a bunch of villains, now was he? "What about you? You got any friends?"

Hawks didn't answer right away, raising the cup and gulping down the broth. Dabi just waited, moving to open and prep the other instant cup. He had filled it with water and jammed it in the microwave by the time Hawks finished.

"I have one." He said at last.

His doll, Dabi guessed; he'd seen the ragged, old thing one of the times they'd spent the night at his apartment. He'd made his distaste for the thing a little too obvious, so Hawks had shoved into his closet and apologized, explaining that it was just sentimental.

"Yeah? What's their name?" He asked, anyways.

Hawks cooed, before the noise morphed into a yawn. His wings arched and quivered as his mouth stretched wide. He slumped back onto Dabi's shoulder, scrubbing at suddenly sleepy eyes. Dabi was taking the empty cup away when he spoke. "His name is Touya. He's warm, like you." He mumbled.

Dabi froze, the cup incinerating in his hand in seconds as the fork fell to the floor with a ringing clatter. "Touya, huh?" He repeated weakly, before he swallowed. He didn't think that Hawks- that Keigo- had remembered him at all. "Is he a good friend?"

"Mhm." Keigo hummed as the microwave went off, "I think I love him."

Touya thought he forgot how to breathe, his mind flashing through unwanted memories, both ancient and recent. "Well… I'm sure he loves you, too."

End.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I love childhood friends AUs. ^w^ There's a part 2 to this that I'll upload tomorrow, but until then, consider leaving me a tip so I can get my name changed!

#dabihawks #toukei #childhood friends au #dabihawks fluff #conans writing #long post #hawks #keigo takami #touya todoroki #mha dabi #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #mha hawks

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bwoahtastic · 1 month

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Seb being really concerned about little baby birdie Logan? Logan’s very quiet and he doesn’t seem to be making friends with the other pups very easily. He curls up in a little corner on the couch and sucks his thumb while hugging his new stuffie close. Seb keeps checking if the poor pup is poorly but he seems fine physically. The only pup he’s gotten a little attached to is teddy Alex. He’ll hold Alex’s hand and hide behind him. But whenever Alex goes to his pup friends Logan let’s go and toddles back to his little corner on the couch and watches them all. Seb thinks it’s just an adjustment period and the pups are maybe a little noisy for him but he’s strange with the adults too. Seb will sit next to him on the couch only for Logan to climb down and find a new spot. Seb’s really worried that he’s not doing a good job with little Logie

Oh plss!

Little birdie being so shy! He just sits on the sofa with his plushie and watches the other pups play but doesn't really dare to get involved. He sometimes will play with Teddy Alex a little, or watch little kangaroo Oscar bounce around but when any other pups join, he leaves to sit down somewhere.

He is the same with adults, avoiding them or leaving when they join. Seb tries so hard to figure out why Logan does that!

Maybr eventually Seb asks logan if he wants a cuddle before he sits down next to the birdie, and Logsn perks up and nods sk happily, making grabby hands for momma!

Maybe he always judt feels unwanted and so he leaves to make space before people can tell him to move cos that makes him sad...

#asks #oh deer orphanage

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ride-thedragon · 10 months

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Lady Laena Velayron Headcanons

(Adult Laena is a separate post. This is basically up until she would marry.)

1. After rejecting her hand, Viserys actually sent her the location of Vhagar and little updates about her sightings.

2. She claimed Vhagar after Laenor left for the Stepstones, appeasing Rhaenys by saying Melyes deserved company.

3. She looked a lot like and tried to dress like Jocelyn Baratheon.

4. When they were younger, she'd follow Laenor with a dragon egg to bond with Seasmoke.

5. She was the first person to ride with Laenor.

6. They would both get in trouble for leaving their rooms and finding themselves all over High Tide to sleep.

7. Anytime they were in King's Landing, she'd seek out Daemon or Corlys to talk too (at about 6)

8. Vaemond would carry her on his ships and into the city against her father's hesitation.

9. She was a good mediator between Vaemond and Laenor.

10. She took the blame once after catching Laenor with a squire when their father was looking for her.

11. Her favour for tourneys was always blue, gold with little perfumed flowers and pearls.

12. She'd give her favor to Joffrey at Tourneys in Laenor's place.

13. When she was introduced to the Braavosi Sealord, she did try to be less ladylike to get him to drop the matter. (Birdy core)

14. She got into a bad habit of sneaking away to Spice Town after the betrothal.

15. The first time she flew Vhagar, they ended up in King's Landing rather than Driftmark. Viserys congratulated her after attributing the feat to his father. A brave girl compliment was placed.

16. She got close to Rhaenyra on Driftmark and closer after the royal wedding.

17. She tried her best to help Laenor consumate their marriage after Joffrey's death. They would wear black as a symbol of mourning for him, but together, they did not let rumours spread too far.

18. She joined the court to be close to Laenor after his wedding.

19. She found Harwin strange and didn't care for his advances on Rhaenyra so soon after her wedding.

20. Seasmoke and Vhagar would fly together every morning when Laenor returned from the Stepstones.

21. They had a dream of being sellswords in Essos when they were younger.

22. Rhaenys would teach her about politics in a very similar way to Baela.

23. She was better at politicking than Laenor, but she'd go out of her way to teach him through her understanding.

Laena and Daemon

1. He very specifically was tasked with looking after Laenor by a young Laena

2. She had been very apathetic towards him when they all came back from he Stepstones, actively ignoring him all together.

3. She would've kept it up but she learned quickly after about Lady Rhea's untimely passing and saw an opportunity.

4. Vaemond warned her against seeking out his company before they got to King's Landing.

5. Throughout the rest of the wedding events (Viserys didn't cancel them), she always found herself around him, extending a personal invitation for him to stay at Driftmark.

6. She didn't tell Rhaenyra about her predicament and her plans to get rid of her fiancé as a result.

7. She proposed the offer to Daemon a day after he and Corlys had a very similar discussion. He said that she was using him, and she specifically said that it was only if he wanted to be useful.

8. They managed to sneak out twice to Spice town before getting caught and subsequently reprimanded by Rhaenys after being found in a brothel (no compromising this time)

9. Laena actively used her mother getting to choose Corlys to defend her actions (it didn't go well)

10. She went out of her way to kiss someone else before marrying him.

11. They would casually wander the shore during the tide idly to avoid the Son of the Sea Lord.

12. Rhaenys did not like the idea of her marrying Daemon at first until Laena went out of her way to prove that she'd prefer it.

13. She flew to King's Landing with Rhaenys to let Viserys know about the wedding, he was upset and did not attend. He didn't object however.

14. After learning about it, Rhaenyra leaned more to Harwin despite Laena's insistence that nothing would change.

15. They started flying together during the stay of the Braavosi sea Lord.

16. Daemon insulted the Sea Lord not only by demeaning him but also by implying that he'd compromised Laena.

17. They had three separate ceremonies for their union, one on Driftmark, one in King's Landing, and a secret Valaryian adjacent ceremony.

18. She'd joke about the fact that it was heavily speculated that he hadn't slept with Lady Rhea throughout their marriage with him and her mother.

19. He'd kissed her before they were married.

20. The first time he mentioned leaving for Essos, she thought he was making a joke about her past fiancé.

21. In a similar stroke to Laenor, she was known to be very close to her lady companions on Driftmark and in Spice town.

22. Their respective wedding band stones blue (sapphaire) for him and red (ruby) for her to wear representing the other.

23. He'd joke about the idea that the only reason she sought him out was because of Vhagar's influence on her. (Vhagar was his dad's dragon before, and caraxes was her granddad's dragon)

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nexility-sims · 5 months

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟓 ❛ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 ❜ | NAKAWE PALACE, DEC. 1990

❧ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Priscila’s career had taken her all over the world before she retired to Uspana. Here, she was just Prissy again—or, in the papers, Princess P. Mending her relationship with Beatriz had been uneven; it remained incomplete to this day. Reconnecting with her sister’s children, adults as they were, was itself in some cases painstaking and in others a pleasure. With Safya, it had been easy. She even suspected Beatriz resented what closeness they cultivated. It wasn’t, of course, because she and her daughter were ever distant. No, it was more simple than that: Beatriz was a possessive creature. That it was her little sister taking something of hers (on shopping trips, to the beach, for a late-night movie in a theater they rented out just to sit in the middle in their pajamas) made it worse. “Mama understands me,” Safya had told Prissy once. “She loves me. Sometimes I don’t know if she likes me.” This had made her laugh, and Safya fell into nervous chuckles in response. Finally, Prissy nodded heartily, replying, “We’re the same in that way, Safy.”

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

❧ alfonso’s death will happen in part iv of the main story, a million years from now, but here’s a taste of beatriz being destroyed by it :^) additionally, no real prose today. having a remarkably bad one. maybe next week. [insert me shrugging so hard i dislocate both of my shoulders]

TRANSCRIPT:

{Miscellaneous cooking noises}

[P] Have you tried the cookies?

[L] What? I, uh … No.

[P] I told Olalla they wouldn’t help—on the telephone, while she was baking—but she was in a frenzy. No stopping her.

[L] I can’t …It’s …They were mama’s—

[P] Her favorites, I know.

[P] Not a bittersweet reminder yet. Just bitter

[L] {Sighs.}

[L] I didn’t know you were here already.

[P] Birdie always pretends I’m not. I decided to let her this time.

[L] It doesn’t feel very good.

[P] What, is that how you feel? Ignored?

[L] I waited all morning for her. She walked right past me ... I just don’t know what to do with myself.

[P] Of course. It feels like the end of the world.

[P] You know, that isn’t fully a bad thing. The People wouldn’t exist if the world had not ended—and ended, and ended, and ended. We’re destroyed, and we become something new to survive.

[P] The last time this happened ... Mama, I would think. That destroyed me. For Birdie, this is worse. This is like when papa died.

[L] I just thought we would be together. Now, her and me. She hasn’t even looked at me since we saw mama at the marina.

[P] You’re not getting any comfort from her, Nora. You know that.

[P] You don’t need to beg her for it either. You have an entire family that will comfort you. I’m here. Your grandfather. The rest of them. Just let things run their course.

[L] I know that. It just ... doesn’t make it hurt any less.

[P] It rarely does.

[P] Now, how about some coffee? That’s what everyone comes in here for.

[L] Sal’s self-serve station. That is what I wanted, before …

[P] We’ll skip the cookies and save our appetites for dinner.

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #ts4 royalty #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #yes i noticed something is missing #no i am not fixing it 😭 use ur imaginations #1992.ep01

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age-of-greta · 1 year

Text

The Moon

The Moon represents illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.

Author’s note: hi!! Welcome back to The Moon. Sorry it’s been a few weeks, life has been busy. As always I proofread, but typos happen. No posting schedule, but all parts will be posted Wednesdays at midnight EST. There are only a few more chapters left eeek! Thanks for reading along :) enjoy!!

Paring: Sam x reader & Jake x reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, sort of angst, adult content

Word count: 3.7k

PART 10:

“Hey, there is nothing to be nervous about babe.” Sam says, rubbing his hands on your shoulders.

It was the night of Danny’s big party. You were uneasy to say the least. You and Sam had decided to come out of hiding and announce that you were together. Not like making a grand announcement or anything, but allowing yourselves to hold hands and be as touchy as you liked. Danny and Margo were still the only ones who knew. You knew they would keep it a secret for as long as you wished. Tonight was a gamble. You would be staying the night at Sam’s house because everyone would be drinking. The party started ten minutes ago and you were still at your place, dragging out the inevitable. Sam noticed and tried to comfort you.

“I know. It’s just going to be… weird?” You say, unsure of how he might react to that.

“We don’t have to tell anyone if you’re not ready.” Sam says, lightly.

You shake your head. “No, I want to. It’s just- fuck it. Can you pour me a shot of tequila before we go?”

Sam laughs. “I can do that.”

After your shot you collected your things and got in Sam’s car. You had an overnight bag packed and ready. Currently you wore a strappy black bikini top with frayed jean shorts and sandals. Your hair had a nice beach wave and you wore natural makeup. You felt cute, but you were still ridiculously nervous. You had gone over a million scenarios in your head as to how this evening might play out. The shock that would grip the twins. How Jake would react. Of course it’s not like you didn’t want to tell Jake because you feared it would diminish your relationship. It was more because you were scared that what happened between the two of you might come out. You never wanted Sam to know that. In that moment it’s like Sam could sense your tenseness, because his hand found your knee and he lightly rubbed his thumb on you.

When you pulled up, you decided to take a deep breath and put on your big girl panties. The last thing you wanted was anyone to see that you were anxious and think Sam was holding you hostage or something. You giggled at that thought.

“You good?” Sam asked with a puzzled smile on his face.

“I’m great Sammy. Let’s do this.” You muster up and say, taking his hand.

There was a considerable amount of cars already outside. Knowing how these things go though, you knew more would show up. Sam left your bag in the car for now focusing only on holding your hand and getting you inside. It smelled like beer, hotdogs, and rum when the door opened. You heard Jimi Hendrix playing the Star Spangled Banner inside and you could already see that there were more people inside than you had thought there would be. Your eyes scanned the room, so far no familiar faces. You really didn’t recognize most of these people at all. They had more friends than you thought. Then your eyes landed on curly hair bouncing through the crowd heading straight towards you.

“Well look who finally showed- No fucking way!” Josh yelled through the house.

Then all eyes were on you and Sam.

“Birdie? Samuel?” Josh questioned with a huge smile on his face as he approached you two. “Is this why you haven’t been around much these days Birdie?”

You feel your cheeks turn pink and you start to answer but are cut off again by Josh.

“And you!” Josh says, pointing at Sam. “Is this where you’ve been running off to after sessions? Holy shit! I cracked the code!”

“Settle down Josh. You’re going to bust a blood vessel.” Sam says, nonchalantly.

“Settle down? This is a revelation unfolding before us!” Josh shouts. “Daniel, did you know?”

Danny just raises his eyebrows and his cup.

Josh scoffs. “Jake?”

Then you find yourself flicking your eyes over to Jake for the first time. His hair cascades down an off white linen shirt. Sunglasses dangling around his neck next to his silver necklace. His stance becomes abrasive. He looks pissed. There is a scowl on his face and he’s gripping his glass so hard you can see the white of his knuckles. He just shakes his head at Josh’s question.

“Well I’ll be damned! Congratulations you two. I think I already hear wedding bells in the distance!” Josh continues.

Sam laughs and shakes his head at his brother’s antics, giving your hand a squeeze. “I’m going to go grab us some drinks and say some hellos. Are you okay here?”

You shake your head. “Yeah I’m going to go annoy Danny.”

Sam kisses your cheek before he takes off through the house. Then you feel a hand grip around your wrist.

“Can I fucking talk to you?” Jake says, with annoyance in his tone.

You suck in your cheeks and nod your head. Jake never lets up on his grip as he leads you through the house. He takes you downstairs and inside of the recording space, shutting the door.

Then he turns around and glares at you. “What the fuck?”

“What?” You say back, crossing your arms.

Jake lets out a dry laugh. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You stay quiet.

“So what, you’re just with my brother now? Like you two are together or something? I mean you show up here with him holding hands and then he kisses your cheek. What are you in eighth grade?” Jake spits.

Now you’re irritated. “Oh Jake will you just fucking spare me?”

He scrunches up his face. “Spare you? You’re walking around publicly all cozied up to my little brother.”

“Oh would you prefer I do it in private?” You ask, condescendingly.

He scoffs. “Are you really going to act like nothing happened between us? Like nothing is here between us?”

You feel a hot bubble of anger rise. “Are you fucking kidding me Jake?” Then you laugh. “You must actually be joking.”

“I’m not, and I’d love to know what’s so fucking funny.” Jake says, crossing his arms.

“Oh fuck you!” You yell. “Jake I have been pining over you for half of my fucking life! Yet time and time again you gave me nothing except little shreds of hope. Leading me on, flirting. Then you pop back into my life like Freddy fucking Kreuger and what do you do? Continue to flirt with me, touch me, kiss me, oh and fuck me! Then say oop nevermind! I don’t want to be with you, I just want to fuck you.”

Jake is quiet for a moment. “Birdie… I- it’s not like that. I’ve felt things for you for years. I always thought you would be who I would settle down with. But it’s just… it’s not necessarily what I want right now. There’s just so much going on and traveling and-“

You cut him off with a laugh. “So you want me to be the person you end up with, but only when you’re ready right? So you can travel the world and fuck whoever you want. And I’ll stay here like a good little girl and wait for you to return in the hopes that one day I’ll be your fucking girlfriend?”

Jake sighs. “No, that's not what I meant. I do care about you.”

“Save it.” You say spitefully. “I’m not someone who is just here out of convenience anymore Jake.”

He then takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Birdie will you just listen? I’m not just saying all of this shit to you. I’m not blind, I’ve always seen this thing between us.”

“But you’ve ignored it because you want to fuck other people?” You spit.

“No- I. Goddamnit okay fine. Here you go.” He pauses and paces around the room for a moment before continuing. “I care about you. I do. Hell I even think I might I lov-“

“Stop.” You say shaking your head and putting your hand up. “Stop. Do not say that to me. I’m not doing this with you. I am with Sam. I’m happy with Sam. I’m going to continue to be with Sam.”

Jake clenches his jaw. “I don’t want that.”

You feel the threat of tears brimming in your eyes, you need to get out of there. “Well this is what I’m choosing. So you’re going to just have to come to terms with it.”

“My brother? Really? Is this your way of getting back at me?” Jake says, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Fuck Jake not everything is about you!” You say, storming off.

You climb up the stairs as hot tears stream down your face. As soon as you emerge upstairs you beeline to the bathroom. You give yourself a few minutes to cry, before cleaning your face up. You know by now Sam is looking for you and you pray to god Jake doesn’t do anything stupid. Finally your face has returned to normal, so you clean yourself up and head back out to the party. You see Sam talking with Danny and his face lights up when he sees you.

“There you are. Here’s your drink.” Sam says, giving you a cup.

“Thank you.” You say with a smile. “Sorry Margo had called me.” You lie.

“No worries. Care to go for a swim?” Sam asked.

You nodded your head and took Sam’s hand as he led you outside.

Sam introduced you to a few people along the way, but no real conversation stimulated. Surprisingly, no one was in the pool. There were a few people outside, but no one was actually swimming. You stripped out of your shorts and Sam winked at you. You laughed and took his hand as he guided you in the pool.

“Fuck it’s cold.” You said as you submerged your legs.

“Aw Birdie, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” Sam said, pulling you further in.

You giggled. “Sam!”

Then you’re almost all the way in. Sam grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap as he squats in the shallow end. You wrap your legs around him and he keeps his hands on your waist.

“Told you I’ll keep you warm.” He says with a smile.

“Oh you’re too kind sir.” You jab.

“Sammy sweetheart right?” He jokes.

You laugh. “I never saw myself dating a comedian.”

You didn’t really even think about it before you said it.

A smirk spreads on Sam’s face. “Date huh?”

Your cheeks turn pink, but you don’t back down.

“Yeah.” You say, wrapping your hands behind his head.

“Now I like the sound of that.” Sam says, kissing your shoulder.

You bite your lip and your mind slips elsewhere when his lips touch your skin.

“Um, excuse me? PDA take it upstairs!”

You look up and see Danny grimacing in your direction.

You roll your eyes at your cousin.

He walks over and starts fumbling with the grill that’s next to the pool. “Josh! The grill is on. Tell Jake to get out here.”

You see Josh walking around with a cocktail, but nods his head to go retrieve his twin.

You decide to get off of Sam, but he halts you.

“Hold up baby. Let me adjust myself.” Sam says, almost in a whisper to you as he fixes the bulge in his shorts.

Right on cue Jake walks out and locks eyes with you still on top of Sam. He clenches his jaw and looks away. Well.

Jake heads to the grill and begins working on burgers and hotdogs for the party.

“Hey Jake, did you grab those veggie burgers I bought?” Sam asks.

Jake doesn’t look up from the grill or respond.

Sam makes a face. “Hello?” Then he cups his hands around his mouth. “Jake! Veggie burgers!”

Jake spins around. “No Sam I haven’t seen your fucking burgers.”

Sam sighs. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go grab our burgers and give them to captain pleasant while he has the grill on.”

You nod your head. The air is thick with tension when Sam leaves. But you nor Jake speak to each other. Jake lets out a snicker, but no words. You suck in your cheeks and let out a deep breath.

Well, this was awkward.

“Guys food is ready!” Josh yells.

You were sitting on a lounge chair with Sam, securing your spot for the fireworks.

“Hey I’ll go make our plates and get drinks. You stay here so no one steals our spot.” Sam says, rubbing your back.

You smile and nod your head, then Sam disappears. A few moments later Josh saunters by with Jake behind him.

“Birdie, you aren’t eating?” Josh asks with a puzzled expression on his face.

“No I am. Sam’s getting plates. I was instructed to save our spot.” You say, meekly.

Josh grins. “Aw Sam is making your plate. How cute. Danny and I are starting fireworks as soon as it’s dark. I’m excited to play with fire!”

Then Josh jets off. Jake pauses and looks at you. “So cute.” He says flatly, then follows his twin.

You take in a deep breath and close your eyes.

“All good?”

You open your eyes and Sam is back with plates in hand.

You give him a smile. “Yes, everything is great. Thank you for making my plate.”

He sits down next to you. “Of course babe.”

That made you feel warm inside. Sam kissed your cheek and you two ate while you waited for the show. It had just begun to turn into the beginning of dusk and you knew fireworks would follow shortly. You also knew Josh was itching to play with lighters. Sam laid back on the lounge chair with you in between his legs. You were laid back into him and his arms were wrapped around you. You felt comfortable, secure, and happy. You would stay wrapped in Sam’s arms forever if given the chance. Just then, you were jolted out of your thoughts when a flare of red shot up into the sky and sparkled.

“Woooooahhhhh.” Sam said, being a little cheeky.

You giggled. “Horrible for the environment, veterans, dogs, and generally all other creatures that don’t understand what’s going on. But yes, woah.”

Sam let out a laugh and rubbed your arm. “There’s my cynical girl.”

Then you caught a glimpse of Jake heading back towards the house.

“Jake!” Sam yelled.

No response.

“Hey Jake! Come watch with us!” Sam continued.

Jake threw his hand up and continued inside.

You could feel that Sam was furrowing his brows, even though he was behind you.

“The fuck is his problem?” Sam asks, with a hint of nastiness in his tone.

You swallow slightly hard and then shrug.

After the fireworks, a lot of people had cleared out. Only a few stragglers remained, and it seemed like they were just waiting on their rides. Josh was positively buzzed while simultaneously high on his firework display. You were currently sitting in the kitchen nursing a margarita with Sam by your side, listening to Josh ramble to the remaining guests. Jake and Danny were still cleaning up outside.

“Tired?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around you.

You look up and nod.

“You better not be! The night is still young and we are playing poker!” Josh says, entirely too loud.

Sam groans and you sigh.

“No no none of that now! I’m going to grab the other two and I’ll meet you guys in the living room. Sam get the poker set from under the table.”

Then Josh pads off while the last of the guests exit. Sam takes your hand and leads you into the living room.

“One game.” He says, trying to reason with you.

You nod. “One game.”

Josh returns with the other two and they all plop down on the floor. Jake makes a point not to look at you, in fact he looks bored or annoyed.

“What kind of poker are we playing here?” Danny asks.

Josh lets a smirk creep up on his face. “Strip poker?”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m going to go ahead and veto that one.” Then he puts his hand on your leg.

Jake scoffs.

“You’re no fun Samuel. Texas hold ‘em it is then. Jake you’re dealing first.”

One game turned into about 6. Danny had won the most, he was a card shark.

“Okay okay I think we’re out.” Sam says, placing his cards down.

“Aw, how come?” Danny says with a laugh.

“We are ready to go to bed and I’m tired of getting my ass kicked.” Sam replies.

Josh whistles at that. “Uh oh! Try to keep the noise to a minimum please.”

Your face burns red at that. Jake crosses his arms.

“Didn’t need that visual, Josh.” Danny says lightly.

Sam takes your hand and leads you upstairs to his room. Already you feel as if a weight has been lifted off of you. It’s been so full of tension, but you persevered for Sam.

“Fuck.” Sam says with a chuckle sitting down on his bed.

You laughed and sat down next to him. “Tell me about it.”

Sam wrapped his arms around you. “Shall we have a shower?”

“Hmmmmm.” You contemplate. “I’m game but we have to be quiet, remember?”

Sam smirks at you. “Oh baby I’m going to have you screaming my name.”

You let out a laugh and lightly smack his chest. “Yeah right loverboy.”

“Okay, maybe just lightly moaning my name then?” He suggests, cheekily.

You get up and take your shorts off. “Maybe. If you work hard enough.”

Sam smiles at you and follows you into the bathroom, undressing himself as well. His mouth meets yours before the water is even turned on.

You awoke the next day wrapped in Sam’s arms. You smiled to yourself. You loved waking up this way. Sam was still peacefully sleeping, but woke up when you began to stir.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Sam said, in the raspiest voice you had ever heard. Then he planted a small kiss on your jaw. Your heart swelled at that.

“Morning Sammy.” You say softly.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks.

You nod your head. “I did. Did you?”

He grins. “Best sleep of my life.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You say, joking while getting up.

“I’m going to pee and brush my teeth. Do we have plans today?” You say stretching.

Sam eyes your body before responding. “Babe, we always have plans.”

You let out a laugh. “Thought so.”

When you came out Sam went in. He needed to shower, so you decided to get dressed. You threw on a black tank top with the same shorts and sandals from yesterday. Then you slapped some makeup on your face and decided to go find Danny. But, to your dismay when you came down the stairs all you saw was Jake sitting at the counter with a mug.

You chewed on your lip for a bit before finally deciding to say, “Morning.”

Jake glanced up at you. “Morning.” He replied flatly.

It was quiet for a few minutes and you were plotting ways to get out of this situation, but then Jake spoke again.

“Coffee?”

It was good he was talking to you, you guessed.

You shook your head. “No thanks. I think we’re about to go get breakfast.”

Jake looks at you blankly before letting out a snarky laugh. “Right.”

You were annoyed with his attitude. He had no right to be acting like this, and you were about to let him know.

“You know Jake you don’t have to be such a fuckin-“

“Ready babe?” Sam cuts in, entering the kitchen.

You take a small breath and smile. “Yes.”

Jake smirks at you and raises his mug.

Asshole.

You walk over to Sam and grab his arm while he leads you to his car. Your inkling was correct when you pulled up outside of a pancake house. Sam grabbed your hand and took you inside to your table.

“So.” You say, sitting down.

“So.” Sam replies back.

“Did you have fun last night?” You ask.

Sam smiles brightly. “Oh I had a lot of fun last night baby.”

You snicker at that. “No I didn’t mean that. I meant at the party.”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I guess so. I wouldn’t say I’m the most patriotic guy out there, but the red, white, and blue shots were damn good.”

“I know what you mean.” You say through a chuckle.

“Jake seemed weird though.” Sam said, grabbing his coffee.

You felt your blood run cold a bit at that, you have no idea what to say so you just nod.

Sam looks at you. “I mean I’m not crazy right? He did seem like something crawled up his ass last night.”

“Yeah, I noticed too.” You say.

Sam nods his head. “Oh well. He’s probably just weirded out about us. But I’ve got to say, they all took the news pretty good. Josh was annoying, but that was to be expected.”

“Feels good just to get it out there. Not have to hide or keep some big secret.” You say.

Sam smiles at you. “Birdie, are you getting soft on me?”

“Never.” You reply back with a smirk.

After breakfast Sam took you home. You two spent the day cuddled up on your couch watching movies. Then Sam put on some records and you two cooked dinner and baked cookies. While the cookies were in the oven Sam slow danced with you in your kitchen to John Denver. It was a perfect day. One of your favorite days. That night you couldn’t sleep though.

You glanced over at Sam. He was sleeping so peacefully. He was so beautiful, inside and out. You wished you could engrave this view into your brain forever.

You weren’t sure why you felt this impending doom sensation in your chest. You were prone to self sabotage, but you didn’t want Sam to go anywhere- ever. He made you happy, deeply happy. But there was that part of you that still deep down felt something for Jake. You weren’t sure what that something was, and it wasn’t close to being on the same caliber as to what you felt for Sam, but it was there. You let out a small sigh and stared at the ceiling until you had fallen asleep.

The sensation of impending doom had faded.

Eventually you would find out why it was there.

But that’s a story for another day.

***

• the next chapter is…. well just buckle up!!

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #the moon #gvf fic #gvf series #sam kiszka gvf #gvf #sammy gvf #gvf smut

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farfromstrange · 10 months

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 19: My Castle’s Crumbling Down

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: You meet some of Michael's family, and Birdy pries a little too much for your liking.

Warnings: ANGST, nightmare (includes gun violence and death), smoking, drinking

Word Count: ~5k

A/n: I have a few more chapters in store, but I don't want to overwhelm you. The angst is going to continue for quite a while now, but we have some hurt/comfort and a little bit of spice in the next chapter.

Your sleep is restless. You fall asleep in his arms and it goes well for a while, but the dark void soon starts to twist.

Fog clouds your mind. The air thickens. You shift on the mattress, but your mind is somewhere else entirely. The second you slip out of Michael's embrace, your thoughts turn dark and the demons start to use the blank canvas to start their evil plot.

You find yourself in the parking lot of a gym, or what you believe the parking lot of a gym would look like, and the scenery confuses you. You can't think further than what is in front of you. Each step you take echoes in the eerie silence.

A voice calls out your name. You turn around, and there he stands. You pushed all thoughts about him away for years, and now he's right in front of you again.

You conditioned yourself to have nightmares about everything but him. It took a long time, but your mind managed to morph different traumatic events into something else so you could forget his face. Of course, you would always remember it, but you tried not to do it consciously. You kept it all bottled up. Now that you recalled what happened, your subconscious has all the leeway to transform your thoughts into dreams.

His voice sends chills down your spine. “I warned you, didn't I?” he says. “I told you to stay away from her. But you never listen, do you?”

You try to back away, but your legs refuse to move. He's standing right there, and Maya is there, hiding behind him, but she's so much younger. She's just a child and you're an adult, and you wonder what you did wrong to end up here. You have nowhere to go.

Panic rises within you as you realize you're trapped, caught in the clutches of your darkest memories. Your heart pounds in your ears as it races against an invisible clock.

“You thought you could escape me?” he says, his lip curling up into a bitter smile. “I'll make sure you never leave. Just like your mother.”

His threat makes your blood run cold but boil at the same time. You're sweating, yet freezing deep inside. Your head gets dizzy and you want nothing more than to throw up.

Tears well up in your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. He's not supposed to have control over you anymore.

“No,” you whisper. “This is...this is a dream,” you try to tell yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut, but you just won't wake up. “You can't hurt me anymore. I won't let you.”

Nightmares are cruel. Whenever you're asleep and your subconscious draws up a dream, whether it's bad or good, it can change the setting and the plot in a matter of seconds. You're not prepared for what’s to come. The sky darkens, all lights go out and you hear the clicking of a gun. You hold your breath.

Footsteps sound from a distance and come closer, gradually, with every step. You turn toward the sound, your lips parting in a silent scream.

Michael steps out of the dark; you recognize his brown hair and those beautiful eyes you fell in love with the first time you looked into them. You recognize his outfit and the way he carries himself, and the protective nature of his voice fills the air as he tells you to get out of the way. But it's too late.

The sound of gunfire fills the air. You scream again, but no sound comes out. Michael jumps in front of you, even though it looks like slow motion. He's right before you when the shots ring out and the bullets hit him like a stable wall. You scream his name, but he doesn't hear you because the sound just won't come out.

He falls to the ground. You're quick to get on your knees next to him, his fragile body now covered in blood and torn to shreds by the lead your father pumped into him. When you look up, he's gone. It's only you and Michael in that abandoned parking lot, and the lights come back on so you can see just what you caused.

“I’m sorry...I tried to protect ya...but I couldn't,” he chokes out.

The words cut through your soul. You can taste blood on your tongue from where you bit your lip. Your heart is bleeding into your chest. You reach out for him, but he disappears when you touch him.

“No!” you whisper. “Michael, please... Don't leave me.”

But your pleas fall on deaf ears as darkness engulfs you, swallowing Michael from sight. Your heart shatters into a million pieces.

“No!” you cry again, but it's too late.

You wake up in a cold sweat. Your heart pounds in your chest. The room spins for a little while until you’ve grown accustomed to the lack of light and realize you’re no longer in the parking lot you dreamt about. Instead, you’re lying in a soft bed, covered by a blanket and an arm draped over your waist.

Reaching out to your right, you search for Michael. His body is there and he feels warm, not cold.

Carefully, you inspect his body, your hands tracing over his arms and chest. There are no scars or unseen wounds. His chest rises and falls. He's alive.

Your touch and the sudden movement slowly stirs him back to consciousness. His eyes flutter open. He blinks, taking in his surroundings before his confused gaze falls on you.

He rubs his eyes. “Wha's wrong?” he asks. “Everythin' alright?”

Your heart aches. You quickly shake your head, not wanting him to worry. He's not fully awake yet and needs his rest, so if you tell him the truth, he will wake up fully and won't go back to sleep. You don't want that to happen. He has been through enough.

You reach out to brush the hair out of his face. “It's nothing,” you reassure him. “Go back to sleep, darling. I'm alright.”

His sleepy eyes search your face for a moment, and a drowsy smile forms on his lips. The second his head hits the pillow again, he's back asleep. His breathing steadies.

With a kiss on his forehead, you silently slip out of bed. You can’t stay in bed any longer. The tears have started welling up in your eyes, but you can’t cry, not in this room, not with him asleep next to you.

The fear that kept you locked in your nightmare falls off your shoulders, but instead of relief, all you can feel is pain and dread, and your father’s face moves back to the forefront of your mind. You try to tune him out, his evil smile, his empty eyes, and the sound of his voice, but it won't stop. The hole in your heart grows. He keeps stabbing the knife deeper into your already bleeding wounds, repeating the same motion in a way that won’t kill but paralyze you and force you to face him no matter what you do, and you feel the air in your lungs starting to dissipate.

You tear the blankets off your body, get out of bed as quietly as you can, and make your way out of the bedroom. You remember the steps you need to take back downstairs. Michael’s house isn’t big, but you’re not in your right mind and you have to be careful where you walk.

The stairs creak. You make your way downstairs as fast as your feet can carry you. The sliding door to the backyard is closed, but you unlock it with ease. The cold night air hits you right in the face, and the change in sensation snaps you out of whatever panicked state you were in. The breath returns to your lungs in its rawest form of oxygen and it hurts a little, but at least you managed to steer off the panic attack.

Part of the sky is still dark, but it’s starting to lighten up in the east. You haven’t checked the time, so you simply assume that it must be around six in the morning already.

Whenever you have an early shift, you stay at your kitchen window and watch the sunrise, which is how you know when the sun rises in Dublin every month. In summer, it rises pretty early, and then in winter, it rises later in the morning. Most of the time, the sunrise is a simple change in light and the morning is greeted by dark clouds and rain, but it’s not much different for London. You love Ireland; at least here, you’re safe. Or so you thought. You don’t feel so safe anymore, and it makes your heart race in your chest as if it’s about to run a marathon.

You wipe a stray tear. It’s frustrating. You talked to Michael, you told him everything and he told you he would protect you. You know you aren’t alone and yet you feel like you are. You feel so alone, so trapped in your own mind, and it ties a knot around your stomach. You have been alone for so long, accepting help turns out to be harder than you thought it would be, and it doesn’t immediately start getting better. It’s a process, you realize, but you don’t have the mental capacity for this.

You want to scream, but the houses on Michael’s street are pretty close together and you’re surrounded by his family–waking any of them up feels like it would be a death sentence.

Your breath forms a faint cloud of condensation in the air and you watch the wind carry it away. Then, the scent of nicotine meets your nose. You know it all too well. You remember the taste that forms on your tongue. Turning your head to your right, you search for the source of the smoke. It doesn’t take long for you to catch the boy–he can’t be older than sixteen–in the neighboring backyard leaning against the fence, nurturing a cigarette.

When he catches you watching him, he tries to hide what’s in his hands, but he’s already been caught. He turns away, screwing the bottle of liquor you only now catch in his hands shut.

You chuckle softly, taking a step forward. “I’m not gonna snitch on you,” you say. Your voice is still thick from the few tears you shed, but you put on a smile for him.

He looks terrified. Stepping closer, you notice the red in his eyes. You don’t know how many members belong to Michael’s family, who lives where, or who has how many children. You’ve met Amanda, you learned about Jimmy and Birdy and now you know about Jamie, but that’s all. The dynamic seems a bit more complicated than it would seem at first glance, and you didn’t bother studying up on everyone before rushing to Michael’s aid. You love him, not his family.

The boy keeps his back turned to you, contemplating whether or not to go back into the house.

“You have a cigarette to spare?” you ask him.

When he turns around, you’re standing right at the fence. He hesitates, eyeing your outreached hand before handing you the pack together with his lighter.

You pull a cigarette from the pack and place it between your lips, flicking the lighter to ignite the flame. As you take a drag, the smoke fills your lungs. You never did hard drugs before, but nicotine has ways of calming your nerves when you need it most. It's a bad habit and you hate the taste most of the time, but it's familiar, and the brand he smokes reminds you of the one you used to buy as a teenager. With your fake ID and pocket money, it was fairly easy.

The boy glances at you. He watches you take a drag, staring out into the distance as you exhale, the smoke heavier than the condensation of your breath. The second time, it comes out of your nose, and he seems almost amazed.

You chuckle. “What, never seen a lady smoke before?” you joke.

He blushes and looks away, showing you that he probably isn't the type of guy to talk to strangers. He was probably told he shouldn't; given his family name and what happened last night, it doesn't surprise you.

“I used to smoke like a chimney, you know,” you confess then, exhaling another plume of smoke. “Even before school sometimes. And I'd sneak a few drinks–” You point to what you can now tell is a bottle of Whiskey, probably from his dad's collection. “Just to numb everything,” you say. “Thought it would make it all go away.”

His eyes widen, perhaps finding solace in the fact that he's not alone. Many kids smoke and drink, but it's not often those who use it as a coping mechanism for emotional pain show it. Mental health issues are still something many get judged for, especially around his age. Maybe that's also why you chose to engage him. He looks like he's in pain and you can't let a child suffer in silence the same way you were forced to.

His voice comes out in a hesitant whisper. “You did?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I smoked for a very long time. I stopped before I came here, but sometimes I still have a cigarette because, in my mind, it works.”

“And does it?”

“No,” you smile sadly, “Not forever, at least.”

“Oh.”

Silence settles between you. You take another drag from the cigarette.

“Smoking doesn't really help, you know?” you say. “It just masks the pain for a little while. Makes everything feel a bit numb, but it never really goes away. I tried, and I still do. I mean–” You look at the burning white paper in your hands, “I had a shitty night and when I smelled it, I thought it'd help me forget, but it doesn't. And that sucks.” You let the cigarette fall to the ground and stomp it out.

Were you trying to teach him something or yourself? That's a question you can't answer.

The boy breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are ya...are you Michael's girlfriend?” he asks you.

The question catches you off guard, but you find yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's of no use denying it, you think.

“Yeah.” You introduce yourself to him and he tells you his name is Anthony.

Michael never told you about him, but from what he tells you, he's Jimmy and Amanda's son. For a moment, you wonder if he's the result of yet another night between his mother and Michael, but he would have told you if that was the case, so Anthony must be Jimmy's boy.

It hits you. Jamie was Anthony's brother. He's grieving, that's why he's drinking and smoking so early in the morning. You should have figured as much.

“He's an amazing man, you know,” you try to lighten the mood. “Michael, I mean. And he cares so much about you and your family. It's remarkable...what you have. Family is important.”

A mix of emotions flickers across Anthony's face. He studies you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face before he nods.

“You're cool,” he finally says.

The silence stretches again, but this time, it's more comforting.

As Anthony glances back toward his house, a hint of worry crosses his features, and you place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I lost my sister too,” you tell him. You know it won't do much, but you don't want him to feel like he's stranded with no one to understand what he's going through. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Anthony. I know it hurts, but it's okay to let it hurt. Just...don't get drunk before school,” you say. “That sucks, too.”

His gaze meets yours, and you can see the gratitude in his brown eyes. He nods, acknowledging your advice, and answers, “Thanks.”

With that, Anthony turns away, slipping back into the house, leaving you standing in the quiet backyard. You watch him disappear, knowing you tried to help him, at least. You did a good thing. He's just a boy. He's innocent the same way Jamie was. You never met Jamie, but if he was anything like his brother, he was more than a good kid.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you let out a deep breath, releasing the pent-up emotions that have threatened to consume you, and some of the smoke left over in your lungs.

Another tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it away. Your chest tightens. You don't want to cry. You can't. It hurts, it's what you told Anthony not just a moment ago, and it's okay to allow yourself to hurt, but it hurts to allow yourself to grieve. You're not ready for it.

You straighten up, catching a glimpse of the rising sun, before making your way back inside. You need coffee.

Once inside, you think you can finally find some peace. You find Michael’s coffee maker and some instant coffee powder, which isn’t ideal, but you can work with it.

Just as you’re about to start your morning in a way that will somehow calm the storm that is raging inside of you, there is a knock on the door. You peek out of the window of the kitchen, seeing a brunette woman standing at the front door.

You’re not ready for another confrontation. Meeting Amanda was enough, and talking to Anthony put some things into perspective. Having to face someone else from Michael’s family sounds like something you don’t want to do, and you could just pretend you didn’t hear it and join Michael in bed, or make coffee and then disappear into the backyard again. Either way, you have options.

But you’re not that type of person. You can’t turn whoever it is away because what if they’re worried about Michael and shutting them out would make them worry even more? His family lost someone dear to them and it would be only natural for people to come knocking on his door, wanting to talk.

Whoever this woman is though, you’re hesitant. Michael wouldn’t want you opening the door to a stranger, and his family essentially consists of strangers to you.

What if the woman is one of the bad guys that shot Jamie? You’re panicking now, you’re well aware of that, but your mind is all over the place, your father’s voice keeps echoing in your mind, and you don’t know what choice to make.

The woman knocks again. This time, you follow your gut.

“I was just trying to have coffee,” you mutter.

You clasp the handle, hesitating only once more before opening the door and facing reality.

The woman doesn’t look surprised to see you. Her brown eyes trail over your frame curiously, then come to rest on your face. She’s a little older, and she’s smiling at you. In her hands, she’s carrying a tray of two coffee cups and a brown paper bag with what you suspect might be breakfast.

“Good mornin’, dear,” she says, not even allowing you to take the first step. “Ya must be the girl Michael told me about. It was about time we finally met.”

She knows your name. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to think she also knows who you are. Your grip tightens around the door handle. It’s too late to pull out now.

“I’m Birdy,” she introduces herself.

You relax. The alarms in your head calm down and you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, so you’re Birdy,” you say. “Michael’s told me about you.”

She chuckles. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, only the best.”

“Well, he’s talked about you too, and he sounded very happy. Made ya sound like an angel on earth.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks. “I wouldn’t know about that,” you murmur.

Has he really praised you this highly or is she just trying to make conversation?

She lifts the coffee tray. “I thought I’d bring ya some breakfast. I know that boy doesn’t keep ‘round much food. I figured it’d be a good excuse for me to check in on him,” Birdy says, her lips parting in a sad sigh. “Mikey’s been through so much, but he never asks for help from anyone. May I come in? I won’t be long.”

Her smile seems genuine and she sounds so nice, you can’t deny you feel comfortable around her. Against your better judgment, you step aside and invite her in.

She takes a quick look around, placing the coffee on the table. She doesn’t waste time jumping into the conversation. “I actually saw you two at the Garda station last night. I was there to pick up Mikey, but then I saw you two huggin’ and I didn’t wanna intervene. Figured he must have called ya,” she says. “So I thought I’d at least check in on him now.”

You nod slowly. “He just needed someone to be there for him,” you answer.

“I know. Michael doesn’t like talkin’ about his feelings, but with you, he seems different.”

“I’m just trying to be there for him.”

“And I appreciate that. Especially now…You know, with Jamie gone, we’re all a little shaken up. Surely, he told ya all about that.” Birdy eyes you again.

“I heard,” you say. “And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, dear,” she answers. “It’s been a rough night, indeed. We’ll have t’support each other now. The whole family, I mean, including Michael. Grief is never easy, and losin’ a child…it does things to a mother. So I feel for Amanda, and I think Michael understands well enough what we’re all goin’ through. We’ve encountered our fair share of losses, but losin’ someone so young and innocent like Jamie…I feel sick.”

Your eyebrows furrow. For someone Michael claimed was so understanding, she doesn’t seem capable of seeing the bigger picture.

“He lost someone close to him too,” you try to tell her as kindly as possible. “And from what he told me, he’s lost a lot in the past. But he also never got to properly heal, so he has to grieve. You all have to grieve, but Michael was there when it happened, so he might need some more time. I don’t think he’s in a state where he can take care of anyone, not even himself. That’s why he called me. He’s not doing so well and while family is important, so is his mental health.”

Birdy looks a bit taken aback. Your words hold power, but your voice is calm. You have a small smile playing on your lips. Your intentions aren’t to enrage her, you simply told her the facts as you see them, and she’s surprised at how well you execute frustration and anger without bubbling over. You’re reserved, something she didn’t expect you to be, mostly because of the kind of women Michael brought home in the past. She’s surprised at how calm you are.

You can see it in her brown eyes that she didn’t see your reaction coming, maybe she’s even a little impressed, but you continue to stand your ground.

“Anyway,” you say. “He’s resting now. We talked most of last night and he’s still sleeping, so you can either stick around or come back later, but we went to bed pretty late, so I won’t wake him up for you. No offense, of course.”

You want her to leave, but this is not your house and Birdy has known Michael for far longer than you have. You just want to do right by him, focus on what he would want, and he seems to hold her dear to his heart.

You can’t blame him; she seems like the kind of woman that would easily substitute for the lack of a mother, which reminds you that you don't know that much about his childhood and you should have asked that instead of asking about his wife, but you were both worked up. You got the most important issues out of the way. Or at least you talked about it. It can’t ever be fully out of the way because these are your lives.

Birdy nods understandingly. “Well, I appreciate ya lookin’ out for him,” she says, her voice holding what you would consider honesty. “It's been a difficult time for all of us, but you’re right, he needs someone by his side right now. I’m glad he called ya and didn’t choose to suffer in silence.”

“I’m glad he called me, too.”

“After Allison...he's never been the same. But ya seem t'be the right person to give him hope. He needs hope.”

You take back any suspicions you might have had. She genuinely cares about him. From what you heard, his family is unpredictable, and she’s still a Kinsella, but she cares about him, which is something you have in common. Michael’s well-being is your priority, and Birdy seems to think the same way.

You swallow thickly. “I love him,” you say. “And when you love someone, you’re willing to fight for them.”

Birdy steps closer and cradles your face. She doesn’t ask, she simply places her hands on your cheeks and smiles at you. “Yer a good girl,” she says.

You stiffen. “Thank you.”

Birdy's touch is surprisingly warm, her presence comforting in a way you hadn't expected. There's a tenderness in her gaze as if she understands the weight you carry on your shoulders. It's a fleeting moment of connection, a passing of unspoken understanding.

“You take good care of him, ya hear?” Birdy says. “Michael has had his fair share of hardships, and he deserves happiness. If you're the one who can bring it to him, then I'm glad to have ya by his side.”

She lowers her hands again while you still stand there, dumbfounded. Her attention shifts back to the food and drinks she brought in.

“That reminds me,” she turns the bag enough for you to see the logo, “I heard you got him a job so he could get his daughter back. Is that true?”

You would recognize the blue butterfly anywhere. You freeze. The words ‘Butterfly Effect’ adorn the white circle that surrounds the insect your workplace has taken on as the unofficial mascot thanks to the name of the café. You know this logo because you face it every day.

“I didn’t realize you liked going to the Butterfly Effect,” you say, ignoring everything else she said. Your eyes are colder now, more calculated.

Birdy chuckles. “This?” she asks. “Oh no, this was my first time. I thought I’d check it out, see where Mikey works now. You work there too, right?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper when you answer, “It’s where we met, actually.”

“Right. Well, I heard you had good coffee.”

“We do.”

“How long have ya been workin’ there, dear? I hear your accent, I know yer not from ‘round here. London, is it?”

Our eyes remain glued to the bag. “Yeah, I’m from London,” you say, trying not to give away too much. “Came here four years ago, got the job, have been working there ever since.”

Surely the time you’ve lived in Dublin doesn’t mean much to her. This has to be some sort of trick, one you are not a fan of.

“Four years?” she repeats back to you. “Impressive. Of course, it’d be easy for ya to get him a job then. Yer familiar with everyone at work and you know the owner, I imagine.”

“He worked for it,” you correct her. “He asserted himself and that’s how Michael got the job, not because of me. I may know the people I’m working with and I know the owner of the franchise, but they’re work relations and Michael had to go through the same application process as everyone else. We have to give him that one; he’s trying. For Anna.”

Birdy lifts her arms in surrender. “Of course. For Anna,” she says. “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t do for her, and he hasn’t seen her in eight years.”

“He’s a good man, Birdy, but he needs to hear it more often.”

“You sure are right about that one, dear.” She sighs. “I always try to show him I care, but the rest of the family…they’ve never been particularly warm.”

You decide to be bold and tell her, “That’s not good for him.”

“I know Mikey doubts himself,” says Birdy, “but he has you now.”

He shouldn’t have to rely on his girlfriend to give him the love his family lacked to give him, but you sure as hell are determined to keep trying until he believes himself to be worthy. His family seems to fail time and time again, and from what Birdy just told you, hoping for a change is a losing game. Perhaps they’re all a little damaged.

“Well,” she says then, “I have some matters I need to attend to this mornin’. Last night has left quite a gapin’ hole and I need to sort out some things. But I would love to have a chat with ya sometime. Only if you have the time, that is.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like this at all. “Okay,” you answer, and you curse yourself for being so stupid. But you don’t know how to say no.

“Grand.” She cups your cheeks one last time before heading for the door. “Tell Michael I said hello and tha he should give me and his brother a call.”

You blink wildly, focusing back on where she stands. “Sure.”

Birdy offers you a gentle smile. “Take care of yourself,” she tells you, and before you know it, she’s gone again.

You’re left with this weird feeling of not being able to classify the nature of her questions; you can’t tell what she wanted or if she had a hidden agenda, you only know that it made you feel exposed. She dug, maybe not deep, but she was ready to, and the goosebumps the realization leaves spread over your entire body.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #kin amc #reader insert #charlie cox #chaos theory #in honor of speak now (Taylor’s version)

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chaoticloving · 2 years

Text

no bad habits

harry styles x actress!reader

summary: harry has a lesson in asking a girl out from his bandmates, while simultaneously freaking out and contemplating his whole life. (universe summary in masterlist)

w/c: 2.5k

w: swearing, talks of sex (smut in future chapters), and probably grammatical errors ( english is not my first language)

a/n: inspired by bad habits by steve lacy! i was debating on how much longer i should go on until the two get together but omfg i have no patiences so i think next installment/chapter will be them finally together! question is: should there be smut in the next chapter? lmk <3

also this chapter is all harry! lowkey my fav fics are when they focus on the guys pov so i indulged here lol so enjoy the awkward harry!

masterlist

April, 2012

“Hi, Honey. How’s my precious boy doing?”

Laughs filled the room as Harry quickly turned off the speaker and got up to leave from his band mates.

“Come back precious boy!” Louis called, but Harry ignored the snickers and headed for the back of the private plane.

“‘Lo mum.” Harry said, more relaxed now that he has privacy, leaning against the wall and slightly leaning so he doesn’t hit his head–even though his friends don’t believe him, Harry swears that he’d hit his head. “‘m alright, how are you?”

“Don’t give me that.” Anne chided. She knew her son, she knew when her youngest wasn’t feeling his best. “Just because you’re a big shot now doesn’t mean you can act like your own mother doesn’t know you.”

“Mum-“

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“Nothin, just annoyed with the boys now.”

“When are you not?” She chuckled. “But seriously, Honey. Are you okay? You sound sad.”

“Well we’re about to take off on the plane and you know how uncomfortable I get.” It wasn’t a full lie, Harry has hated traveling by plane ever since his first flight at the young age of five–Gemma will gladly share all of the embarrassing memories of young Harry crying on planes to anyone who’d ask.

“You have your gum? Chew it well and it’ll help pop your ears.” Anne told him, in her protective motherly tone.

“I will mum, don’t worry.” Harry said dryly, use to this lecture.

“Also, a little birdie told me you had another one of your friends was joining you boys–”

Harry groaned. “Mum, what's Gem been tellin’ you?”

“That you’re making friends! And if it’s the friend that I think it is, I'd like to meet her.”

“Mum, Y/n couldn’t come, she had a work thing come up, and you know I just don’t like plans changing when it comes to flights.” He mumbles. “It just got me in a mood.”

He thought flying would be easier and he wouldn’t be stressed since Y/n would be coming, but sadly, her schedule is even more hectic than his own. She was too good at her own job apparently, as she had gotten a call–right in the middle of their own call where Harry was going into explicit detail on some vocal coach who quite frankly needed some coaching of their own in his opinion—that said she was needed for the filming of a new movie right away. She wouldn’t tell him for what, saying it was a surprise.

Obviously, she made the decision to take on the job, which Harry couldn’t protest too; he didn’t have the right to say that she couldn’t film a movie for one concert in Australia or because he would be sad. But even though he told her how happy he was for her, a small part of him will miss her–well, maybe a big part of him.

“Still, it’d be nice if I could meet her.” Anne told him. “You haven’t told me anyone you liked since that one waitress at the diner.”

“Because you ruined my chance with her!”

“You were seven and all I asked was for a kids menu when she accidentally gave you the adult menu.”

Harry smiled but still jokingly huffed at the memory. All those years ago, Harry first tried out flirting. Although looking back it was definitely terrible, he thought it was going well since she was smiling, but he would never forget the embarrassment of his mum asking for a kids menu–making him feel significantly less cool, crushing Harry’s new dream.

“There just hasn’t been anyone after that mum.” Harry told her, him sighing. He’s had similar conversation with his mum before. But when he was in school, it was always ‘no dating, no pregnancies.’ Now his mum was singing a completely different tune of ‘when are you getting a girlfriend.’ He knows she means well, but it’s a little scary to realize he should–and wants to–find someone to spend the rest of his life with, especially if he wants the most amount of time with them as possible.

“No one could compare to the happily married waitress you met ten years ago?” Anne laughed. “I guess, other than Y/n?”

“Ugh, mum you’re no better than the DailyMail.” Harry accused, but they both new he didn’t mean it. When the photo came out, Anne of course had a couple questions–specifically about what was in his drink, but also about the pretty girl that everyone was saying was his new girlfriend. Harry reluctantly answered that she was just a friend and how the photo being posted was an accident, but he often wondered what it would be like to introduce Y/n as his girlfriend to his mother.

He heard commotion going on in the seating area of the plane, shaking him from his thoughts, and realized take off was coming soon. “I’ve got to go mum. I’ll call when I land.”

“All right sweetie. Don’t work yourself up too much. It’s nighttime so you need to get a good rest, especially if you're up dancing and whatnot tomorrow.”

“Yes, mum, I’ll be careful. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Harry hung up with a sigh and waited a few seconds before returning back to the group of boys. He knew once they took off the realization of his short break would be over, and he didn’t want it to be. A part of him was concerned that now that Y/n was back off working, and he was too, no one would be able to call, text, or really have the energy to make the effort as often as before. He wanted to call though, so that had to be enough, right? Harry hoped it was.

Harry joined the others and took his seat down next to Niall who was in a weirdly passionate conversation with Liam, arguing over some TV show that Harry hadn't watched. Louis was looking at sheet music, with Zayn leaning over his shoulder to join him. Harry sat and watched the group, unsure of how this all happened. He was on a fucking flight to Austrialia to preform at a sold out concert with some really great people.

Even this job got him to meet someone special. But it also gave him heartbreak–more serious than any waitress at the village diner he could meet. Harry was proud of Y/n and all of her accomplishments, she worked for all she achieved, no famous parents, no rich relative; she auditioned and got every role on her own merit, it was something he truly admired.

She was often busy, it was a part of her job description, so it was up to Harry to normally call and such. A part of him always felt guilty about it, and if he was a little honest he felt unwanted too, so he’s been trying hard not to talk to her…as much; but those thoughts were always push away when he confided in Y/n for the first time, with her saying how she appreciates all of his calls because it allows her to have a break–a long break at that, Harry was glad he switched over to an unlimited plan because almost all of their calls were over two hours.

As his mind wandered, he got a buzz in his pocket that shoved him back into the real world, allowing him to realize that the plane was starting to move. He quickly took his phone out and opened the message, one that made his smile wide.

‘Good luck and wish I was there!!’

As Harry was about to respond to Y/n he got another text from her.

‘I miss you’

Harry froze and didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if the feeling of his stomach dropping was from the plane taking off or the fact the girl he likes just unpromptly said that she misses him. He felt like giggling and kicking his feet up in the air while rolling on his bed.

“You got sent nudes or somethin’” Zayn jokes as Harry looks up to see his friends all looking closely at him.

“Wha–”

“Bad day to wear skinny jeans, huh.” Louis joins in.

“Guys come on, he wasn’t sent nudes.” Liam says.

“Thank you–”

“Probably got a little message from mumsy.”

“Yeah you’re right Liam, doubt Harry’s that lucky.” Niall laughed.

“Alright what does that mean?” Harry asks defensively, while all the others look silently at each other, trying to keep their composer.

“Well, you’re the baby of the group.” Niallstarts.

“I know.” Harry answers, still confused.

“You’re also… incredibly awkward with any woman you talk to.” Liam slowly says.

“So it’s hard to believe that you out of everyone here, y’know, got sent a nude.” Nialll finishes up the explanation, hoping poor Harry would get the hint. “Especially from Y/n.” He mumbled that last part.

“You think I have no game?” Harry accuses, standing up. He looks around at his now so-called friends, all looking in other directions. “Fuck, I have no game.” Harry sits back down, stunned by this realization just hitting him causing him to stare off into space.

“Did we break him?” Louis whispers to Zayn, yet loud enough for everyone to hear it–hence the quick punch he received from the other boy.

“I-I’m thought of as a hot and pretty charming guy but… but I’ve never actually dated anyone before–I don’t even know how to get a girl to like me for me.” Harry choked out, starting to spiral. He got up and started to pace in the tiny plane, nervously biting his nails. “She’s a real celebrity, like famous and she gets so much attention from practically everyone…why would she choose me?”

Liam got up and tried to sooth his friend. “Hey, mate, why don’t we just calm down for a sec–”

“No! I-I don’t bring anything to the table!” Harry added on, going deeper into this hole he is digging himself. A wave of nausea was hitting him, adding to his terrible feeling.

“Hey, why don’t we help you?” Zayn offers, getting up and ushering him to sit back down in his seat. “We can spare little advice for ‘em right?” The group of boys all nodded in agreement.

“But…” Louis hesitated, scared to say what he was about to. “Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“What sort of question–”

“She’s an actor. She's going to kiss people for movies.” Louis pointed out. “Are you going to be okay with that? Even though it won't mean anything, could you stand to watch that?”

Harry thought back for a moment. He watched The Hunger Games when she gave him a copy –that suspiciously disappeared from set–and watched as he felt his heart being ripped out from his chest as she kissed Peeta–although, he much prefers Peeta over Gale. But still, he hated seeing her kiss Josh whatever his name is.

He did like how happy Y/n was when she talked to him about making the movie. He remembers watching her on his computer both during an interview on youtube and when he called her.

“If she’s happy and it’s not romantic–I’ll live.” Harry concludes. “I-I can’t tell her to stop acting because I would be uncomfortable–if we were to get together, of course.”

Liam’s a bit shocked. “That’s very…brave.”

“You mean whipped?” Scoffed Louis, again, earning another jab from Zayn. “Not that it’s a bad thing of course. I’m sure Y/n would love that.”

“You’re not helping.” Harry groaned. “But that’s a problem if she wants to date me.”

“She will!” Niall said sternly. “No one would sleep in some bathtub with an ugly stranger; she must find ya’ some bit attractive.”

"Not when she finds out I have four nipples--"

“I'm going to forget you said that." Louis commented, the cleared his throat. "All you have to do is put on the old Styles charm!” He tried. “Just go up to her an’ say, “Y/n, darling, angel, sunflower” –and whatever annoying nickname you call her– “you make me so horny–”

“Woah, woah woah, absolutely not.” Zayn interrupts, and stared directly at Harry. “Do not mention anything about sex or anything about appearance, that makes you sound like an asshole. Only mention how she makes you feel when you see her if it's romantic, not sensual; and talk about how she’s smart and talented–that sorta stuff.”

Harry didn’t want to act like some sort of fool when he would be talking to her. He wanted to get to know her, that’s all he really wanted. Well, he did also think it’d be fun to dance with Y/n, didn’t matter where, hell it could be in the kitchen for all he cares, but he’d just want to be close–doing something he loves with someone he…likes.

But if he messes that up then no kissing in the kitchen.

“I was only joking.” Louis mumbled.

“When we land, you have to call her.” Liam told Harry, more like ordered though if you asked Harry.

“But my mum–”

“I think she will understand that her precious boy is trying to get a girl.” Zayn explained. “Make it clear that you just got off the plane when you talk to Y/n, it’ll show how much you value her and stuff. Just don’t tell her about not calling your mum, that makes you seem like a dick.”

“Yeah, no one likes someone who doesn’t call their mum.” Louis chimed in.

“But isn’t that what I’m doing?” Harry wondered.

“She doesn’t have to know that.” Niall told him. “Look, I’m sure Gemma grilled it into you that you won't say anything outright wrong. Just be you.”

“What bullshit is that?” Harry bawled. “I’m not anything compared to all those other actors! Maybe I should become an actor--”

“Yeah, and what would you play? Some psycho killer? I’m sure that’ll be real hot.” Louis groaned. He got up and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders–looking at him right in the eye. “You need to realize that you have a chance with a hot actress and you need to go for it!”

“Don’t be a pussy.” He finishes and gets back down into his seat, exhaling as he did so. All the guys just looked at him, Zayn had a disgusted face in particular, clearly confused on what that was supposed to do.

“He’s right.” Harry mumbled.

“What now?” Zayn questioned, surprised like the rest of the boys–including Louis himself.

“Louis is right, I need to ask her out, I need to go for it!” Harry realized, saying his words a little louder now.

“Yeah!” Louis cheered.

“That worked?” Naill whispered and looked over to Liam who just shrugged.

“Apparently.” Liam replied.

“I am going to talk to the girl I like and get her to like me!” Harry shouted confidently.

“Yeah!” All the boys yelled in agreement, going with this positive momentum.

Harry sat in his chair smiling, proud of himself for his little manifestations. Now he had to wait another grueling few hours until he actually had service. But he had a plan, and he had the confidence to go through with it–at least for now, he’s not too sure how he’ll feel in the moment, but it’s better than where he was before. He couldn’t want her anymore tonight then what he already does–he just can’t fuck it up.

Like Louis said, he just has to put on the Styles charm.

taglist -> send ask to be added/remove

@uhuhuh @sucker4angstt @b-reads-things @augustfaultline @bxtchboy69 @japanchrry @lilbredsticc @springholland @daydreamingofmatilda

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irregularbillcipher · 8 months

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hey sam I apologize if this gives you psychic damage but your lisaposting always makes me think about how I first heard of the game recently because someone on twt was like oh the game is about a strong manly father providing for his child only to have people correct them on the game actually dealing with parental abuse and ive been curious about the game ever since

NO IT'S OKAY i have. seen that post. that person does not understand the game, to put it lightly

the game makes it really clear that while brad, the main character of the central game in the series, thinks that what he's doing is protecting his daughter, he is, in reality, perpetuating the cycle of abuse

tw for discussions of abuse below

brad is a deeply pitiable character, whose childhood was defined by physical, emotional and sexual abuse towards both him and his little sister, the titular lisa, at the hands of their father. brad's main goal as an adult is to protect his adopted daughter from the abuse he and his sister faced, which his sister did not survive-- so in his mind, when his daughter buddy goes missing in a (genuinely very dangerous) apocalypse, where she is supposedly the only girl left in a world of horrifically damaged men, he's protecting her by going after her. he's protecting her by teaching her to defend herself through any violent means necessary, he's protecting her by withholding physical and emotional affection, he's protecting her by completely isolating her from the world. and it's sad! it's pitiable! you can trace so easily how a man who went through what he did would come to the conclusion that this is the only way to protect his little girl, especially in a world where she can so easily be hurt

and the game doesn't even say he's wrong about the fact that buddy is vulnerable, and could be abused. the game never physically shows the worst acts of abuse, but it's clear that brad and lisa went through hell as children, and that buddy also goes through hell. she is abused after she leaves, people are disgusting to her, and even more "well-meaning" people still strive to take her autonomy away for the "good of the world"

... but she's also abused before then, even though brad never once lay a hand on her and would have rather killed himself than done so

because at the end of the game, (SPOILERS,) you kneel at your daughter's feet, dying a horrible death as your addiction consumes you in the most literal possible way, begging, telling her you only ever wanted to make it so nobody could ever hurt her, and she looks you in the eyes and says "you're the one who hurt me most." because you were supposed to be her fucking dad, and you kept her holed up in an affectionate-less home, down in a basement, training how to kill a man in case one ever tried to hurt her, refusing to even let her call you "dad" because of your own trauma around fatherhood, so trapped that she didn't even know what the sky looked like until she was like ten

and the last choice of the main game is you as buddy, trying to figure out if you want to hug brad as he dies, and his last words are asking you if he did the right thing

brad is a deeply sad character. he's a man who loved his daughter and wanted to do whatever he could to mitigate the harm that could come to her, to make absolutely sure she did not suffer in the way he and his sister did growing up... and he broke some of the cycles. he is not the type of monster his own father was, he really isn't, but he did abuse buddy, and that's the point of the ending. buddy didn't want to go back home, she couldn't go back home, because you never made it a fucking home, and you never acted like an actual parent

as a side note, there are other fathers you can pick up as party members in the game, none of which have still-living children. they are mad dog, olan, and birdie. thematically, i think they're incredibly important

mad dog is an abuser, full stop-- a man who killed his son for not being "strong enough," who hates his children deeply, whose views on parenting are the most social darwinist "survival of the fittest, we need a strong bloodline" bullshit on the planet. a lot of his deal embodies some of the horrible fears brad has about his own parenting, that he will become an out-and-out abuser, and some of the actions that brad really does take, in forcing buddy to kill to become "stronger." his reasoning is different from mad dog, but the abusive action is there, and the conversation you can have with him in the newest update is framed as if you're being welcomed into hell. it's hopeless, bleak, deranged and cruel. it's one of brad's worst fears for himself

olan is a genuinely pleasant, likable guy, who had two daughters before the end of the world. olan did not kill his children, he did not hate his children, he did not seem to ever lay a hand against his children... but he neglected them. he neglected his girls, he neglected his wife, "even when he was there, he wasn't really there." he would have rather spent his time in his garage, downing whiskey and practicing archery, and in the newest update, he tearfully tells brad that his daughters never needed him anyway, that girls never really need their fathers. brad was also neglected, his father was an addict, he is an addict-- olan is another facet of brad's family trauma, another fear of what he could be. someone who never knowingly hurts his children, who is never cruel, but someone who fails his kids anyway. we never learn olan's daughters' names. he talks about them, some of their traits, but he never names them. after more than a decade, it's possible he doesn't even remember them-- he's not responsible for their deaths, but god did he fail them

birdie was, as far as canon implies, a decent dad. (and my favorite character, he's my icon.) birdie is, in his current state, a sweet but incedibly messy alcoholic mourning the deaths of his boys, but pre-apocalypse, he was a single father struggling to pay for his sons' medical treatments. there is nothing in birdie's backstory that implies in any way that he abused them, was cruel to them, or that he ever purposefully neglected them. his son joey died to a serious illness "that couldn't be treated on a dock worker's budget." his son jimmy killed himself after the death of his brother. (i think it's notable to mention that brad's sister, lisa, also killed herself.) birdie could not cope with the loss of both his boys, and it kickstarted his addiction. brad, who grew up in poverty, who is raising a daughter in a world where nobody can know she exists, has never had resources. birdie also never had resources, as a single dad with a tight budget, and no other family ever mentioned. birdie, in modern day, eats himself up with guilt, does anything he can to numb the pain-- it's pretty easy to draw a parallel between his addiction, spurred by his inability to save his family, and brad's addiction, fueled in large part by his inability to save lisa. birdie did care, he didn't do anything wrong, but he also failed his kids, and he's also now been defined by that

mad dog is brad's fears that he will be an abuser. olan is his fears that he will be neglectful, (with fears due to his addiction being sprinkled in as well.) birdie is his fear that even if he technically does everything right, chance, a lack of resources, and things beyond his control could still make him lose his daughter anyway. (birdie also plays into his fears about addiction, i think, because while birdie's time struggling with addiction never overlapped with the period where his boys were alive, brad's still being faced with an alcoholic father, and someone who uses alcohol and drugs to cope with the loss of young family members and the guilt over being unable to save them. it's also worth mentioning that birdie has design similarities to both brad and to brad's horrible father marty, despite being the only "good" dad in the game)

there is no father in this series that saves their child. from the horrible, no-gray-area-about-it abusive monsters to the shitty-but-never-cruel deadbeats to the guys who seemed to genuinely be doing their best with the cards they were dealt-- none of them, none of them save their children. none of them, including brad, and the idea that lisa is about some righteous quest to save your daughter is so insane that even brad doesn't fully believe it by the ending moments of the game

#if you choose to play it do look at trigger warnings ahead of time-- genuinely i mean that #also there are some bullshit racist jokes in it which i'm not gonan excuse and wanna make sure people are aware of #it's a game i love deeply but it's insanely flawed

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jedi-bird · 17 days

Text

Didn't get to go drool over couches at ikea but did get to go sign and pick up our tax papers, so the day feels successful. Got the trimmer/mower out of its box finally and ready to start charging this week so I can cut the grass. There's leftover pizza for dinner (I was promised a burrito yesterday but that didn't happen because of the rain), so the rest of my day will be spent playing on my phone and crocheting.

#birdy tries to be a good adult #so far no panic attacks today but still feeling restless

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spiritmadeofstars · 2 months

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Something to live for, someone to die for (Lokixfem!Reader) CH 2 [on-going]

Summary: Birdie meets a kind soul.

NO use of Y/N, instead “you” and using a nickname

Warnings: violence, blood, torture, adult themes in later chapters, 18+ (warnings and tags to be added) Read at your own risk, eh?

Chapter 2 - There goes the kind looking doctor

Chapter 1 here chapter 3 already on my AO3

I was in urgent need to write this, so I am posting the chapters as I write. Just a warning that all is unedited, but it's from my heart, and that's all that matters.

The urge to vomit woke you up. You heaved for a while but all that came out was some bloody saliva. Your head throbbed and your vision was slightly blurry. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. It was day time, probably, as the room was well lit. After blinking a few times, you started noticing the spacious room, the bed, the table and a few chairs, some cabinets and a big golden bird cage. And you were in it. Someone probably thought they were being very funny.

“Do you like it, Birdie?” Loki appeared to your left. His ability to appear out of thin air started to annoy you, your heart beat even louder, making your head throb violently.

“I love it.” You wanted to say but only whispered, the heaving left your throat tired and dry. At this point you wondered if Tony hadn’t installed a similar cage in your room, just for the shits and giggles. Loki must have listened to the intercom before disposing of it. Maybe they were coming for you...

“How is your little brain doing?” Loki started to pace in front of your cage, each step looking deliberate.

“Not good, actually.” You cleared your throat and he looked at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Looks like your presence makes my brain commit a suicide. I feel like it’s gonna burst my skull open and run away from you.” Loki’s lips twitched.

“Guards!” He shouted, and you wanted to slice his throat for being so loud. “Take her to the healer and then straight back here. No food. Don’t forget to lock the cage, no need to guard her. I’ll deal with her when I come back.” He finished and left through the door, you were surprised he did not just vanish into thin air.

“Get up, human.” One of the guards, the female, said. You realized you were no longer tied up, but your wrists bore the markings from the rope. You slowly pushed yourself up, taking a moment to catch your breath. “On your knees, head down, hands behind your back.”

“I’m weak.” You tried.

“Don’t care. I’m not stupid enough to underestimate you.” You had to give it to her, looks like the bad guys were starting to evolve. You did as she commanded, you were too weak to escape anyway. If you tried to fly, not only would your brain escape, but your insides, too.

On your knees, you put your hands behind your back. You could feel the warm hands of the guard as she secured the binds. Suddenly she grabbed you and pulled you to your feet. They were wobbly, so you leaned on her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I have to close my eyes, please don’t let me run into a wall.” You said, feeling like the world was spinning too quickly, and you were about to fall apart. You heard a chuckle, but felt the other guard, male, grab your other arm. You were grateful that they weren’t being dicks.

After a minute or two, you apparently arrived at your destination. Two knocks sounded and when you opened your eyes a young man stood in the doorway. He looked you over and raised an eyebrow.

“Put her on the table.” He said, his voice quiet and warm. The guards took you inside, swapped your bindings, so that your hands were in the front, making it easier for you to lie down on the examination table. “I won’t be long, wait outside.” The healer said and you could hear the door lock.

“You look rough, Midgardian.” He stated. You managed a grin and he seemed surprised. He seemed to work some magic, as little lights appeared above you, an image of your body of sorts. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty rough.” You exhaled. “Where am I?” He seemed kind, so you wanted to try your luck.

“In a healer’s office, of course.” No luck, then. “There’s some bad wounds, nothing I can’t fix. Some trauma to your brain, hm. Your human brains are weak, I suppose a week should be enough for it to fully heal. But your mind…” He seemed to search your eyes, then grunted. “That’s a bit more complicated.” You felt relief.

Loki wanted something, and it seemed only you knew the location. Well, you did not, but you would remember. You had time. If the healer lets him know, Loki’ll let you heal before he starts torturing you, maybe. You’d convince him to take you back to Earth, call Tony and co. and be saved.

The healer started to laugh, his face crinkled in a genuine smile. You frowned.

“You Midgardians think you’re clever, but I can see your little plan in your face, your eyes. Loki is the God of Lies. You think he won’t notice such an obvious lie when I did just now?” You were dumbfounded. He laughed at your expression and helped you sit up.

You watched him mix something, his worktable similar to a witch’s potions cabinet. He turned to you with a potion of his own. You drank it without protest, it seemed it was no use to fight right now. Weak, nauseous, your poker face obviously on vacation. You needed to get yourself together before planning anything.

“Undress, I need to clean your wounds.” The healer looked you over. “And you.”

“Can’t you just magic the blood and vomit away?”

“And where’s the fun in that?” He looked at you with a serious expression and then grinned. Your brain must be beyond repair, because you felt as if you were in a bad comedy. “Should I call Dina? The one who brought you?” You were used to being treated, pulled apart and put back together, there was no space for being shy in a life or death situation, so you left the societal need for virtue in the lab where they helped make you.

“Doesn’t matter to me, but I need help with the binds.” You stretched out your hands, only now properly looking at them. The potion the healer gave you was quick working, your head no longer throbbing as violently and your sight clearer. There were no binds, only two thick manacle bands. You pulled your hands apart from each other a little and felt a pull.

“When you’re treating an enemy, you don’t want to release their handcuffs every time there’s a need to get dressed, to undressed.” Fuck, they were really getting smarter. You reacher for your zipper, pulling it down. The bands allowing your hands to be 10 centimeters apart, and no more. But you managed to get your suit off your shoulders and over the bands, as if there was nothing connecting them.

You were wearing your plain white underwear, so you weren’t left naked in front of the stranger, but he was not even looking at you. The healer was quick at work on more potions, probably for your wounds. He caught you struggling with the lower part of your suit and decided to help you.

“Can I at least know your name?” You asked, unable to let him undress you in silence.

“Silas.” He smiled as he told you his name and you could not see him as a villain. He looked more like an ally. He was surely here against his will. Silas would be the one to help you escape. “It’s probably evil of me to only tell you now, but your head injury must have caused you to speak your thoughts out loud. I’m sorry, it was funny to let you tell me everything.” Eyes wide, you stared at him, feeling betrayed.

“So you are here of your own free will, then?” Feeling defeated, you decided to just voice everything of your own accord.

“Very much, yes. You know, to me, you are the enemy. The villain who thinks they are doing what’s right. It’s two sides of the same coin, or how the saying of yours goes.” He put your boots and suit on a table and returned back to you, looking over your legs. “You are Birdie?” You rolled your eyes.

“Apparently.” You were never going to get rid of this. Silas grabbed you by the arm and helped you off the examination table, leading you to an adjacent room. It was a sterile and at the same time messy looking bathroom. A little circular tub to your right, a bench to your left, and a curtain in the far left corner of the room. “Is that a toilet?”

“Yes, it is. I can give you a second to relieve yourself and then help you with the bath.” Silas said, and left the room without waiting for your answer. You were grateful.

It took you a moment to make your way towards the alien looking toilet. You were grateful you did not piss yourself during the trip. No surprise, Silas felt comfortable leaving you here. There was no way of escaping, no window, nothing. Perhaps you could drown yourself.

When you were done, you knocked on the door, letting your healer know you were ready. He stayed silent as he filled the tub with water and added some more of his potions. He motioned for you to get in the bathtub and turned his back to you.

“How gallant, but I can’t get this bra off. It goes over the head.” He turned to face you, turned you around and helped you out of the bralette. Then he turned his back to you once again. You undressed the rest and lowered yourself into the water. “Are you the good cop? Is someone going to come in and try to drown me?” The water felt good, but your wounds stung.

“I believe the torture is scheduled to start next week, you’re safe until then.” Silas turned around when you were submerged, the water was murky from the stuff he put in it. “Will you need help?”

“Why are you being kind to me?” You asked, unable to comprehend.

“I am a healer, not a torturer. Do your healers treat your prisoners differently? Do they just keep stabbing and cutting after the battle ends?” His voice started to rise, his eyes filled with anger.

“No, I’m sorry. I just thought-”

“Don’t misunderstand. Just because I’m kind to you does not mean I am your friend. I was tasked to heal you. Until you are of use, you will stay alive. I don’t care if Loki cuts off your arm to get what he wants. If he brings you to me, I will heal you. Over and over again, until there is nothing left to heal.” You watched him in horror, realized your mistake too late. He seemed too human, too kind, too pretty with his golden hair and warm green eyes to be this brutal. “Don’t drown.” He said before he slammed the door as he left the bathroom.

You sat there frozen for a moment. What were you even thinking? Trusting the first kind looking person, you would not dare to do that even back on Earth. People were unpredictable and fake, people of all planets, it seems. You made a mental note to keep your guard up and to get it together.

After approximately 10 minutes you decided this was enough. You got out of the tub, used the toilet once more, just in case. Who knows when someone will be kind again. You put on your panties, but were unable to put the bra back on. There was a thin towel on the bench, that you managed to put around yourself, took the bra and left the bathroom.

“Silas?” You called, just in case.

“Here.” You heard from the examination room. You made your way back. “Sit on the table, I’ll just put on some salve on your wounds.” Without a word, you let him take the towel away and tend to your wounds. You did not even realize how many there were.

You did not remember the fight with Loki and his men, but they must have nicked you a few times. Your head was bleeding, of course, and Loki cut out your chip, but you did not realize there were wounds in your legs as well. Maybe you flew through one of those glass displays?

“I’m done, get dressed.”

“Can you help me with the bra-”

“No. Your suit was cut up in too many places. Dina brought you some spare clothes. You can ask her for help.” He said, and left through the main door. You caught a glimpse of your guards, and Dina entered a few seconds later.

“There goes the kind looking doctor.” You whispered to yourself. Dina helped you into black linen looking pants and a leather top. The sleeves covered your manacle bands, but the pull was still there. You were allowed to keep your boots.

Just a few minutes later you were back in your cage, locked. Like properly locked, the guards checked three times. It seemed the manacles were somehow connected to the cage, because when the lock was secured, the pull between your hands faded. You could move freely. As freely as you could in a cage where you could stand up and take three steps to cross the whole thing.

You sat down and leaned back, resting your head on the steel bars. You thought about what Silas said, about you being cut up over and over again, only to be healed. You realized you have felt too safe on Earth, with the Avengers… you quickly forgot about your family abandoning you, leaving you to a scientist that promised to cure you only to turned you into something else entirely.

You forgot you used to be a lonely kid, strapped to an examination table, too similar to the one you were laying on just moments ago. Full of needles and fear. How could you have forgotten? Was it because the Avengers were your family now? Because you felt like they would never leave you? Yet here you were, in a cage on a different planet, a prisoner of the person who wanted to rule Earth and in the process helped you escape the hellhole you called home all those years ago. What a cruel fate, to be unknowingly freed by the person who would catch you just a little while later.

#loki series #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x you #eventual smut #enemies to lovers #marvel #my fanfic #slow burn #violent

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weekend-conspiracy-theorist · 9 months

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an entry in the tim&steph role swap au

"And what's a little birdy like you doing out on a night like this?"

Robin spun around, rainwater splashing away from those bright yellow combat boots of hers, and gasped. "Oh my god!" Except she didn't sound shocked, or scared, or even righteously angry to find herself mask-to-mask with Catwoman. She just sounded excited, like any other teenage girl.

Selina raised her eyebrows, and dropped sinuously from her perch to join Robin on the rooftop. "What?" she asked, amused, as she paced a slow, wide circle around the girl. Curiosity would kill the cat one day, she knew, but there was no way she could pass up a chance for a good look at Batman's new Robin. The streets were positively abuzz.

This one was blonde. This one was a girl. This one--according to Eddie, nursing a broken nose and looking downright murderous--was just different.

Robin made an annoyed noise, flicking at the small white nub of the commline in her ear. "'Oh my god' like oh my god, B, shut up will you?"

The white out lenses of her domino mask hid the motion, but she could not be more obviously rolling her eyes if she tried. Or maybe she was trying--she pointed at her ear, scrunching her nose up, and made as close to eye contact as she could with Selina through the mask, as if to say, "This guy, huh?"

Selina snorted, the inelegance of the noise washed away beneath the patter of the rain.

"Your costume is absolutely spectacular," Robin chirped, bounding towards Selina--who danced back, staying out of reach, and shook a teasing finger.

"Uh uh, birdy. Flattery won't get you everywhere, you know."

"What? Ugh. No, I'm serious!" Robin rolled her eyes again. "I mean, eggplant would have been better, and I'm kind of crazy about purple pizzazz--you know, like the crayon?--but this is definitely like solid top five for shades of purple. Way, way better than that weird mauve the city uses for the sign backgrounds in Robinson Park. And your boots are cool! I don't think I can pull off thigh highs--"

"No fourteen-year-old can pull off thigh highs," Selina assured her, dry amusement rumbling through her chest. She didn't think the chatter was what Eddie'd been talking about, but he was right: this was a change.

"Well, that's a relief. But I'm not sure if I'll ever get there, you know? There's a specific kind of confidence to wearing thigh highs, and also a proportion thing, and you're definitely, like, 15% more leg than my mom is, which is more or less how I picture myself as an adult. But like, cooler. And with better taste in men." Robin wiped rain off of her face, a sparkling grin lighting up her face, and her cape snapped out behind her as she spun to keep Selina in view. "What are you doing out here, by the way? I thought cats didn't like rain."

"This, that, and the other," Selina purred. "But you never answered me, birdy."

"What? Batman and Robin always patrol. You're the one being weird." She turned her head, pointy chin nearly poking herself in the shoulder, looking back the way Selina had come. "I mean, you engaged me, so it's not like you've got stolen goods on you right now. But you wouldn't be out here in the rain if you didn't have to be either, which means you were doing some time sensitive recon. What's caught your eye at the Gotham Museum of Art?"

"Maybe I just think it's romantic to take a walk in the rain," Selina countered smoothly, refusing to acknowledge the shrewd deduction either positively or negatively. "Where is that hunky shadow of yours?"

"First of all, ew. You also need better taste in men. Second of all--" Robin leaned in, hand next to her mouth as she said, conspiratorially, "Honestly, I don't really care what you're trying to steal? I mean, we break into places and steal stuff all the time--sure, B." She rolled her eyes again, straightening, and placed her hands on her hips. "It's super different, because we're doing it to protect people. We have the hubris to move mountains, laws don't apply to us when we don't want them to, and the Commish has definitely never yelled at you about your methods ever in your life, especially not just a couple days ago about the Maretti case." Her face was pure innocence under the mask, her voice sparkling as she chirped, "No, of course I wasn't eavesdropping, Bossman. You asked me not to and I pinky promised."

Selina couldn't help it; she tipped her head back and laughed. "I like this one," she told the shadows on the next roof over. She'd heard the softest of rustles of his cape when he touched down, the quietest of sighs as his sidekick teased him. "She's got spunk." Selina turned her attention back to Robin, not surprised to find she'd taken advantage of Selina looking away to move in close--a lesser thief may not have noticed the tracker lightly pressed to her belt, but Selina was no lesser thief. She picked it back off, an amused twist to her lips as she flicked it away (Robin pouted), and tilted the girl's chin up with one clawed finger, smirking. "You know how to pick locks, kitten? What about a safe?"

She couldn't see the girl's eyes, but Robin's entire body language lit up. "Oh my god, please--"

"No, Robin," Batman rumbled. He was trying to sound stern, but Selina could hear the amusement underneath, and something in her own chest loosened.

He hadn't sounded like that in a while. Their tussles since... the last Robin... had been lacking that certain je ne sais quoi that Selina had always so savored. He had been laser focused on The Mission, getting back whatever she'd stolen, and not so much on... her.

But she had his attention now.

"C'mon, Bat," she purred, moving to stand behind Robin with her hands on the girl's shoulders, dropping her chin to damp blonde hair. "Let the kid live a little. All work and no play makes Robin a dull sidekick."

That got her a light elbow and a huff. "Partner," Robin corrected her stubbornly.

"Oh, darling, if it's a vigilante partnership you want, you've got better prospects than Batman. Don't you know the Black Canary's somewhere around here in Gotham, too?"

"B-man says I'm not allowed to meet any other Justice Leaguers until he can guarantee I'm not going to cause any trouble."

"So, never?" Selina guessed.

Robin cackled, bright and more than a little creepy, just like the two before her. Had Nightwing been giving lessons, or did it just come naturally once you found yourself dressed up like a traffic light?

The Bat opened his mouth, no doubt to say something annoyingly controlling yet inexplicably charming, but a gunshot rang out a few streets over, and it turned into a bark instead. "Robin!"

"On it!" She ducked out from under Selina's hands, her feet light as she splashed across the roof, grappling gun appearing in her hand almost like magic as she took the last bounding step up to the edge.

He was already turning to follow her, caught in Robin's wake like he really was her over-six-foot-tall shadow, but his gaze swept over Selina before he'd fully turned away. "We'll pick this up next time," he promised, a thread of heat in his voice, and with a great swoop of his cape he was gone.

Robin's faux gagging noises rose high above the distant sounds of violence, and Selina's laughter followed it into the sky.

#stephanie brown #selina kyle #bruce wayne #the tim&steph role swap au #just thinkin' big thoughts about catwoman's purple costume tbh

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wsbhonni · 10 months

Text

Everyone Get's What They Want (Jesse/Preston Angst PART 2)

***

A/N: Another blurb!!!! Don't know how I feel about it. But I worked too hard to just delete it and start over 💀

This is part 2 to "Birdie", which you can find under the "my writing" tag!

This one goes out to @spoopieere my fellow delusional (and only other) Crosses shipper!!

***

Preston awoke to the sound of a radio host joyfully announce the morning, while a woman laughed at her own joke. Pres groaned, hand flopped about the nightstand in search of the snooze button. It took a few tries, but, with the click of a button, the laughing duo finally shut up.

It was a little jarring, for the first week, waking up to radio shows speaking fluent Italian at him. Sometimes, he would forget he fled America- fled from *him*.

Preston's little home village hadn't changed at all, most everyone immediately recognized him. It was like, the second he drove into the small village, everyone's attention was on him. It made him nervous, at first, but when he stepped out of his car, he was swarmed with enthusiastic hugs and greetings.

His Aunt was all smiles the second she saw as well. He thought she was going to crush him for a second, her hold was so tight. She pinched his cheeks like he was a baby again, it hurt- but Preston couldn't stop smiling.

He remembered how everyone pressed him about what he was doing back. And, everytime, Preston answered with a simple "I broke up a 10 year relationship".

It was a half truth, but it worked. He wanted a fresh start; no shady deals, no murdering, no Jesse.

A lot of people showed up the next day, with gifts of wine, flowers, and food. They gave him hugs and sat down to chat with him- genuinely concerned for him. It became a community gathering after only a few hours. With children running and playing about Preston's family's olive farm- and the adults chatting and drunkenly dancing to music.

It was the happiest Preston had been in a while.

A gentle rustle of feather reached his ears, followed by a little coo. Preston was up in a second, and pulled a thin sheet from a bird cage.

The cage was a large and spacious, it took up a third of Preston's room. But he didn't mind- he would do anything for his pigeon, Ansten. In fact, he and his aunt were talking about converting an old guest room into a large enclosure, just so his little pigeon could have as much space as he wanted.

His precious little bird perked up the second he saw him, flying down to roost on his hand the second he opened the cage door.

Preston smiled at him as he settled on his knuckles.

"Good morning, my love," Pres greeted, giving Ansten's chin a little scratch.

The bird trilled happily.

Pres turned slowly, and made his way to a cup of bird feed. He set him down on a perch, and grinned as he pecked at his breakfast.

Preston was glad that Ansten handled the move so well- he was worried the pigeon would get sick from stress. He wished there was some other way. That he didn't have to put his best, if not only, friend so much distress. Ansten deserved better- but there really was no other way.

Preston had to leave, and it's a miracle he did alive. It took at least two years worth of planning- but he did it.

He opened his phone to ensure that the his doppelganger's family received the rest of the man's payment. Sure, he could lie, be greedy, and keep the $50k to himself- but no, he was nothing but a man of his word. Besides, he wanted to change- he didn't want to end up like Jesse.

Cold, selfish, and manipulative; Preston tried to follow in the man's footsteps- but he couldn't do it. He couldn't force himself to stop caring.

That was where the stunt double came in.

The man who replaced Preston was a paid, highly suicidal, actor. Pres remembered feeling so relieved when he found a guy who would take up his insane offer. The man shared similar features with Preston- and the ones they didn't share were corrected with plastic surgery. All paid for by Preston, of course. On top of the $70k he gave the guy upon their deal.

It was pocket change to Preston, so he didn't really care.

The guy was horrendously depressed, and was worried about leaving his wife and children in debt. Preston simply helped him kill two birds with one stone.

Now, the man was dead, like he wanted. Jesse got rid of Preston, for good. And Preston was finally free from Jesse's hold.

The man smiled, sad, yet resigned. As somewhat depressing as it was...

Everyone got what they wanted.

Preston quickly got dressed, and headed down the stairs. He promised his aunt he would make breakfast for her and the workers that morning. The busy work should distract him.

#angst #my writing #crosses #slashers #jesse cromeans/preston #jesse cromeans #laid to rest #chromeskull #preston lives cause i say so!!!! orange agrees!!!!#mentions of abuse

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themetaphorgirl · 1 year

Note

how about more 'Gideon thinking Alex and hotch are related' content??

I am OBSESSED with this. and I think it’s so funny when Hotch calls her Alexandra. for some reason it reminds me of Rugrats when the twins call each other Phillip and Lillian when they’re mad.

also for such a brilliant man, Jason Gideon is absolutely fucking clueless.

----------

The stairs creaked as Gideon climbed his way to the seventh floor- although, on second thought, maybe it was his knees. Every so often he was reminded about the inevitable March of time, especially when he was surrounded by hordes of youthful teenagers.

He couldn’t recall ever being that young. Certainly not as young as these children. When he was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years old he fancied himself an adult already, uninterested in childish hobbies and pursuits. There was no possible way he was ever like the ragtag collection of youths currently under his care, with their wide eyed optimism and cherubic cheeks and their loud, rapid fire conversations full of slang he didn’t understand.

The seventh floor hummed with silent activity even though it was well past the start of quiet hours. Lights shone under multiple doors, and he could hear half muted televisions and hushed conversations.

He stopped at the resident advisor’s door and knocked lightly. It took a moment before it opened.

“Hey, this is a bad time, can you-“ Aaron Hotchner started to say. He stopped, his eyes going wide. “Oh. Mr. Gideon. I…can I help you? Is something wrong?”

“Sorry to disturb you so late,” Gideon said. “I just got a call that a girl from Roosevelt was missing from room checks and that there was a chance she was here.”

He had caught students engaging in…inappropriate behavior a handful of times during his tenure as head of Lincoln House. If Aaron had snuck a girlfriend over, it certainly didn’t look like it. He was dressed in flannel pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie over a well-worn tee shirt; from what Gideon could see from the hall his room was an uncharacteristic mess. And besides, Aaron was one of his most mature and responsible students.

“Uh…” Aaron said. “Well…”

“Aaron, can you grab one of your clean shirts?” a girl’s voice called from inside the suite.

Gideon arched an eyebrow. All the color drained from Aaron’s face. “I can explain,” he said hastily.

The girl came into view, but like Aaron she certainly was not dressed for some kind of rendezvous. Her sports bra and leggings were, admittedly, not dress code appropriate, but her long red hair was a tangled mess and her makeup was smeared like she had been rubbing her eyes repeatedly. “Hey, uh…Alex?” Aaron said, still staring at Gideon in horror.

“He threw up again, and I don’t have any clean pajamas to put on him,” Alex sighed, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm.

“Alex.”

“At least this time he didn’t also throw up on me in the process.”

“Alexandra,” Aaron hissed.

She dropped her hand. “What?” she said. She stared at Gideon in horror and immediately tried to cover up her sports bra. “Oh. Oh, god. We can explain.”

“Who’s throwing up?” he asked mildly. “They should probably go see the school nurse. Although, if this is hangover-induced, there are probably other steps that should be taken.”

A little boy peeked out of the bathroom; he was small and skinny and clearly not a high school aged child. It took Gideon a bit too long to remember that a ten year old lived in the dorm. “Birdy,” he said as he leaned heavily on the doorframe. “Birdy, I don’t feel good.”

He definitely didn’t look good, he was deathly pale and his big hazel eyes were watering. “I know, darling, I’ll be there in just a second, go lie down,” Alex said.

“Spencer’s not hungover, and he doesn’t need the nurse, he’s got the stomach bug that’s been going around,” Aaron said. “Mr. Gideon, really, we can explain-“

It all clicked. “Your sister,” Gideon said, snapping his fingers. “That’s right. She’s your sister.”

“Yes,” Aaron said immediately. “My sister. My sister, Alex.”

“Twins, right?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Irish…Irish twins. We’re Irish twins.”

“Exactly nine months apart,” Aaron said.

“Which explains why…we’re in different grades.”

Of course, now it all made sense. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Now he could see the resemblance- the same dark almond shaped eyes, the same high cheekbones with the hint of a dimple at the left corners of their mouths, the same sharp stubborn jawline. The girl was considerably smaller, but even their stances and facial expressions were similar.

“The little boy,” Gideon said. “The one vomiting. He’s-“

“Our baby brother,” Aaron blurted out.

“Spencer is so scared of doctors, and when he’s sick he wants us to take care of him,” Alex said. “He’s only ten years old, he’s so young. And he gets sick a lot.”

Gideon looked the twins up and down, weighing the situation carefully. On one hand, it was strictly against school rules for a girl to be in a boy’s room after hours. Even more so if she was in the wrong dorm after bed checks. On the other hand-

He heard Spencer throw up violently in the bathroom, then a tense moment of silence before he burst into thin wailing tears. The twins winced in unison. Alex looked desperately towards the bathroom.

“Go, go, he needs you,” Gideon said, waving his hand. “I’ll let Strauss know you haven’t run away or anything.”

“Oh god,” Alex mumbled.

Aaron wavered on his feet. The color still hadn’t returned to his face, and it probably wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he was coming down with the same stomach bug. “Is it okay if she stays?” he asked. “We…the baby really needs her.”

“Just keep me updated if he needs to go to the infirmary,” Gideon said. “Carry on.”

Alex immediately ran; he could hear her cooing over their sick little brother as Aaron closed the door. Gideon shook his head. Siblings. He should have remembered.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #caitlin writes things #boarding school au #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: alex #patron saint: spencer #patron saint: gideon #patron saint: wonder twins

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downwiththeficness · 2 months

Text

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Four

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction. Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed. You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen eyes. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Word Count: ~3,600

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist Read on AO3

Eva hung her ochre dress in the closet. After days of lying on the floor, the thing was a crumpled mess and it had taken effort to find a local dry cleaner she trusted to clean and press the garment. Eva would happily exert that effort all over again. She stared at the shimmering fabric, knowing that she would never get rid of it. The dress would go wherever she went for as long as she lived. Always a reminder of the momentous step forward in her relationship with her alpha.

The heat ebbed and flowed, rising and falling over the course of several days. Intense need bracketed by sleep and drowsy wallowing in the bond. Wrapped in Horacio’s arms, Eva felt safer than she’d ever felt in her life. In the bubble of their shared bed, nothing and no one could reach her.

A knock at the door.

Eva flinched and held her breath.

Horacio and Javier were scouting the factory so that they could create a plan of attack. Josh hadn’t moved the place, which was a boon. But, he also hadn’t been seen on-site in several days. Horacio had a hunch that he was staying in one of a few residences nearby, but hadn’t yet figured out which. Finding out where Josh was hunkered down was their primary objective for the day.

Another knock.

Eva moved silently through the apartment. She couldn’t think of a single good reason for anyone to be knocking at her door. Her hand hesitated over the deadbolt, hovering mid-air, before she blew out a breath and opened it. The doorway was empty. She stepped out and craned her neck to look one way. Empty. And then, the other.

Barrel of a gun.

And, beyond, the angry face of Doctor Joshua Moore.

“Hello, Eva.”

She was surprised she could speak through the icy fear, “Hello, Josh.”

The gun was very close. So close that Eva thought she might be able to see the bullet in the chamber, if she squinted. He’d cut his hair. It was razored very near to his head, only the way the color caught the light gave away that he was blond. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. The mouth that once held a constant, self-satisfied smirk, was flat. He looked like a completely different man.

“Where are your manners? Invite me in,” he demanded.

Slowly, Eva backed into the apartment. She kept her eyes on Josh, on the weapon in his hand. Eva was fairly confident that he didn’t come there to kill her, but ‘fairly confident’ didn’t seem so reassuring when death was on the line.

He moved smoothly through the door and closed it behind him, “Sit.”

She sat.

Josh took the armchair opposite her. His posture was casual, the gun resting on his knee, “How are you, Birdie?”

“Fine, I reckon,” she replied, wincing at the crack in her voice.

“Oh, you reck-on?” he teased, “I see you’ve regressed a little since I saw you last.” He rolled his eyes, “Although I suppose I can excuse it, given the circumstances.” When she didn’t say anything, he leaned back into the cushion and asked, “So, what have you been up to?”

Eva searched for words. Her voice, when it came, was high and reedy, “Oh, you know, same old stuff.”

He smiled, “I’ve heard. Diego really did need an accountant.”

She clung to yet another of Josh’s incorrect conclusions, “His books were atrocious.”

A laugh, “I bet.” Then, “Tell me, where are his holdings?”

Eva’s brows drew together, “His holdings?”

He rolled his wrist in a kind of ‘come on’ gesture, “His money, Birdie. Where is it?”

A lie felt like it wouldn’t land well, “I...don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

She shrugged, “I don’t. I have no idea where Diego’s money comes from.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, “You’re his accountant.”

“And,” Eva replied in a low tone, “he is remarkably private.”

He sucked his teeth in disappointment. “Alright. What do you know?”

She hesitated, “He’s been working with a cartel.” God, why hadn’t she planned a fucking story for this moment? A thought came to her, “You know, I think he’s more of a...what do you call it...a mercenary. But, for drugs?”

Josh stared at her, “A drug mercenary.”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and ran his hand across his face, “Its been months, Eva. And, all you have is drug mercenary.”

She swallowed, “He doesn’t let me see much.”

“He doesn’t let—,” he cut himself off, sighed, and started again, “Birdie, you have to have seen something.”

What he was hunting for, she couldn’t even begin to guess. Eva glanced at the gun while her brain worked to come up with a response. Something—anything--that would fuel his ego. “He’s waiting for you.”

Josh’s brows lifted, “Oh?”

Encouraged, Eva continued, “He...knows you’ve been asking about him. He’s been waiting for you to make contact.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk to me about it.”

“What does he talk to you about?”

There was a softness in his tone that sounded like danger. She felt the hair on her arms stand up in warning. If Eva said the wrong thing, he would lash out. She wracked her brain for every effective strategy she’d ever used to mitigate Josh’s anger.

Eva took a chance at stroking his ego, “You, mostly.”

His tone was intrigued, “Oh?”

“He asked me the same questions you just asked me.”

Josh’s face lit up with interest. Nailed it. “What did you tell him?”

“As little as possible,” Then, “Diego is...perceptive.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m sure you think he’s perceptive.” Then, “He’s been manipulating you, Birdie.”

She looked away, “He kidnapped me, Josh. He took me to a new place where I don’t know anyone, where I don’t speak the language. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little off balance.”

Josh leaned forward, “All this sass is new for you. I don’t like it.” A pause, “That’s not the only thing that’s changed, is it?” He pointed to her neck, “Did he force you, Birdie?” A pause, “Did it hurt?”

Not at all, she thought while saying nothing. Let him project whatever he wanted onto her. Their bond, and the way it was solidified, was private. Sacred.

“Well,” he sighed when he realized she wasn’t going to answer, “that can be fixed.”

“Fixed?” Eva blurted.

Josh’s brows lifted, “Yes, of course. I’m an incredibly gifted pharmacologist—or had you forgotten? With enough time, I’ll break the bond. Don’t you worry.”

She gasped involuntarily, “You’re going to kill me, then.”

“Oh, no,” he replied easily, “I can’t guarantee that it will be painless, but you won’t die. I’ll make sure of it.”

Eva blinked at him, dumbfounded by the sheer audacity. He was talking about something that had never been successfully performed by anyone in the world. And, he was talking about it with all the confidence of a seasoned professional. The sheer arrogance was astounding. Horrifying, even.

Josh slapped his hands on his thighs, “We should go. I need to get back to work.”

Slowly, Eva stood. She couldn’t think of a single thing that would buy her time. Nothing that would get her enough space to leave some kind of message for Horacio.

Moving towards the door, Josh picked up her clutch from the island and threw it at her, “Here. Let him think you went out shopping, hmm?”

Cradling the purse against her chest, Eva let Josh drag her out the door and into the parking lot where a car was waiting. The driver wasn’t familiar, but he seemed to know that Josh would be bringing along a guest. As soon as they were in the back seat, the car took off down the road.

Eva, conscious of the gun in Josh’s hand, pressed into the door, “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Josh replied, his eyes on the windshield, “Temporarily, of course.”

“Temporarily?”

He hummed in confirmation, “I’m looking for another place. On the beach. This one is just for convenience.”

Eva stared at him, confused, while the car whizzed through traffic. She expected him to be angry, to beat her half to death the second he got his hands on her. And yet, the man sitting less than three feet away seemed perfectly calm. Perfectly genial. Except for the gun.

It wasn’t pointed directly at her, anymore, but that didn’t make Eva feel safe. When the car slowed, she tested the handle on the door, cringing when she realized he’d activated the child locks. She was well and truly stuck until he got her where he wanted to go.

Fuck.

The car pulled into a residential neighborhood, stopping in the driveway of a nondescript house. She memorized the street and house number, repeated it over and over in her mind so that she wouldn’t forget.

Eva had to wait for the driver to get out and open the door for her. She resisted thanking him, but did catch the way his chin dipped in acknowledgment when she glanced his way.

Turning in a small circle, Eva quickly took in the new environment. Manicured lawns. Clean, well built homes. New landscaping. And, down the street, a moving van sat in the driveway.

Recent development. Neighbors that were relative strangers. Money, possibly lots of it.

Just like in Louisiana.

Josh moved close to her and Eva felt the barrel of the gun dig into her side, “Move.”

Reluctantly, Eva let him push her towards the house, up the steps and through the front door. The driver followed them the whole way, stalling next to the entrance. Eva chanced a look over her shoulder to find him standing in the foyer, looking out through the window.

Driver and security, then.

Josh redirected Eva towards a modest living room with spartan furniture and décor. She sat on the couch, disappointed (but not surprised) to find that it was as uncomfortable as their last one. With her clutch on her lap, she shifted on the stiff cushion, trying to get comfortable, “Where’s Myra?”

Josh almost smiled, “You know, I wanted to ease you into this, but I think its better if we just get to it.”

Eva blinked, “Alright.”

“Up.”

With a barely repressed sigh, Eva stood and followed Josh to a staircase. She could see another man standing at the landing and wondered how many guards were scattered throughout the house. Every additional man would make it more difficult for her to escape. And, she was going to escape. There was no other decision that she could make. If possible, she would get a message out to Horacio with a well placed phone call. Barring that, she would run. Not now. Not yet. But, soon.

Eva would start by learning the layout of the house. She would return to her well-honed skill of detecting even the slightest creak in the floorboards so that she could move silently from room to room and then from floor to floor. Then, Eva would work on memorizing the rotation of the men Josh used to keep others out (or in). And, finally, at the most opportune time, she would run. She would haul ass to the highway and hope someone would be willing to pick up a woman in distress.

They cleared the landing and took a turn down the hall. Another man was posted in front of an open door. Josh ignored him as he stepped into the room. Eva followed, stopping four steps inside the threshold while she tried to work through her shock.

It was a hospital room, or looked like one. Machines beeped intermittently and there were all kinds of supplies piled up on every available surface. In the middle of the room, sitting in a bright beam of sunlight, was Alexei.

Sort of.

A man who could once command fear with little more than a look or a well placed threat now looked like he could barely hold his head up. His lanky frame was skeletal, muscle and fat melted away to revel the bone beneath. An oxygen mask concealed most of his expression, but Eva could see anger in his eyes when he looked at her.

Beside him, Myra was pushing liquid into an IV. She looked up, “I see you were successful.”

God, Eva did not miss that tone.

“Yes,” Josh replied, ignoring Myra’s distaste, “Did you have any doubt?”

Myra didn’t answer. She finished up her task and gathered up the supplies into a bucket that she carried into the bathroom. Nose up. Spine straight. Unlike Josh, she still looked very much the same woman that Eva left behind in the States. Not a wrinkle in her clothes. Not a hair out of place.

Josh took a breath and followed, “I did this for you. Now that Eva is here, you won’t have to look after Alexei any longer. You can do what you like with your time.”

The conversation faded a little as he entered the bathroom and pulled the door to. With nothing else for Eva to focus on, her turned her attention to Alexei, “Hello.”

Alexei took a long time to respond, “Hello, Birdie.”

Even his voice was weak.

“I’d ask how you are, but I don’t think you want to talk about it.”

“No,” he replied, “I don’t.”

She shifted on her feet, “I’m sorry. For what that’s worth.”

“Fuck off.”

Eva nodded, “Fair enough.”

The bathroom door opened and Myra stormed out, “You brought a traitor into this house. A traitor that left us to gallivant around Mexico with the man who nearly destroyed our lives!”

Feeling the need to defend herself, Eva lifted a hand, “Technically, I was kidnapped.”

Myra glared at her, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Eva shrugged.

Josh stepped between them, “Eva is right. Diego stole her from us and now she is back. And, while she may have deserved the torture he put her through, she has an opportunity to fix it.”

It took all kind of effort to keep from either rolling her eyes or sneering at Josh. As annoyed at she was just being in his presence, Eva needed him on her side if she was going to get out of this mess.

“Teach Eva how to care for Alexei,” he ordered. “And then, we’ll work on getting you into that new house I built for you down the street.”

Myra crossed her arms, but didn’t disagree. Josh seemed to take that as a ‘yes’ and kissed her on the cheek, “I have an appointment. I’ll see you at dinner.”

When he was gone, they were left with an awkward silence that stretched on for a long while. Eva set her jaw and waited—she certainly wasn’t going to do a single thing to alleviate the other woman’s discomfort. To give herself something to do, she set her clutch down on the side table and pretended to look at the medicine lined up in a long row.

“Well,” Myra said, eventually, “I hope you’re happy. Look what you did.”

Eva met her gaze levelly, refusing to react to the accusation. She wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Myra griped, “Still so selfish.”

Less than five minutes in the woman’s presence and Eva was already exasperated, “Jesus, Myra, can we get on with this?”

Myra drew back, looking at her anew, “Fine.”

It took several hours. Myra walked Eva through every aspect of Alexei’s care. He was making progress, but required regular antibiotics and physical therapy. They hoped in a few months that he would walk again without a cane.

The scar on his head was healed, but raised and ugly. His skull had cracked with the impact of the bullet. An inch to the right and he would have been dead before he hit the carpet. Even that small mercy hadn’t kept him from seizures and a brief coma.

Alexei was very lucky.

He was also very angry.

Eva couldn’t imagine what it had been like. Relearning how to talk, to eat, to breathe properly. A man of action, he had been relegated to this bed for months—and would continued to be for several months more. Eva would be angry, too.

“I need to start dinner,” Myra said, having finished her lesson. “You’ll stay with Alexei from now on. You will do anything he needs, whenever he needs it. Understand?”

Eva nodded.

“Good. Now, one more thing,” she reached beneath Alexei’s bed and unrolled a heavy chain. “Josh might trust you, but I certainly don’t. Can’t have you running off to tell Diego where you are.”

What the fuck?

Backing away, Eva’s hands curled into fists. She wasn’t going to be subjected to that again. It wasn’t going to happen. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, readying her for a struggle.

Myra’s eyes narrowed, “Juan, can you come in here. I need some help.”

Juan turned the corner. Had he been so big in the hallway? It didn’t matter. Eva squared up with him, perfectly willing to fight, if necessary. His step slowed and he looked to Myra with an expression that said, ‘really?’. Myra handed him the chain. He looked at it, looked at Eva, looked at Myra, and then sighed.

What happened next was glazed over with fear and anger. Eva grabbed the IV pole next to her and brandished it, uncaring that the IV was still attached to Alexei’s arm. He screamed while she waved it around, actually managing to catch Juan on the side of his head hard enough to draw blood.

Juan ducked her next swing and grasped the pole, yanking it from her hands. Needing to put distance between them, Eva scrambled over Alexei—sorry, sorry—so that she stood on the other side of the bed. She picked up a pair of surgical scissors, holding them in front her while Juan circled towards her.

When he got too near, she slammed the sharp end into his arm. They pierced deep—too deep. She couldn’t get them out again. In her struggle, Juan got his arms around her and threw her across the room where she landed hard on her hip and arm. He dragged her by the ankle with one hand while he reached for the chain with the other.

Despite several well placed kicks and half a dozen curses, Eva felt the cuff go around her calf and click into place. She deflated right there on the floor, cheek smushed into the carpet. Juan pushed his hands into his knees and stood. Eva smiled at the tired groan and the way it took him a moment to stand straight. The smile widened when she saw the line of blood dripping from the wound on his arm. As far as she was concerned, the asshole had it coming.

Myra, who had pressed herself against the wall during the squabble, tossed her hair and looked down at Eva, “Serves you right.”

She waited until Myra and Juan were gone to sit up. The chain clinked as she gathered her legs beneath her. Eva picked it up and studied the length. As before, it was long enough to get to the bathroom. And, as before, it was secured to the bed frame. She ran her thumb over the cuff, relieved to find that it was the same as the last. Eva hadn’t practiced much since Horacio taught her how to pick the lock, but she thought she could manage.

Which left her with an only slightly modified plan.

Break the lock. Run like hell.

Alexei groaned on the bed.

She stood and brushed her hands against her pants, “Sorry about...you know.” Eva searched for the words to apologize for ripping the IV from his arm, “I, uh, panicked.”

Alexei sighed, “Clearly.”

“I can put it back.”

He shook his head, “You’ll roll the vein. Just get it set up and I’ll do the rest.”

Chagrined, Eva did as he asked. Alexei muttered instructions for supplies, let her clean the area with alcohol, and, with confident hands, pushed the IV back into place. Eva gave him room to work, standing a few feet back and watching closely.

When everything was back to where it should be, Alexei leaned back into the pillow and took a cleansing breath, “Seeing you beat the hell out of Juan with an IV pole was the most entertainment I’ve had since I woke up.”

Surprised, Eva barked a laugh. Then, “They didn’t bring you a TV?”

She looked around, noting that the room was as sparsely decorated as the one downstairs. There was a dresser, an arm chair, a side table, and not much else.

Alexei shrugged, “I don’t watch much television. And, the only thing that would be on in the daytime would be telenovelas.”

Eva sat in the armchair and said, “I actually like those shows.”

He lifted a brow, “Really?”

She nodded, “How else was I going to learn Spanish?”

Alexei chuckled lightly and pushed his hair back from his face. It had grown long in the many months since they’d seen each other last, “Well, tell me about it, then,”

And so, she did.

He listened patiently through all the twists and turns. Eva tried to leave out the extraneous details, but kept having to go back because the details were never extraneous. The show always circled around to them at some point, usually with accompanying flashback.

When she was done, Alexei was silent for a moment, “I had no idea they were so bizarre.”

Eva frowned, “I’m not sure if they’re all like that, but that’s the one I watch. Or, watched.”

Alexei nodded and shifted around on his pillows, “Well, I guess I’ll be asking Josh to put in a television tomorrow.” Then, with a smirk, “Can’t have you missing your show.”

#Shadow and Veil #narcos #Horacio carrillo #carrillo #maurice compte #au #A/B/O dynamics

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