#but this whole recent mess made me fully check it out sooner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Life after the fact

CW: mentions of some nasty stuff related to kids.

First part: Here

For the next few days you were a mess. Between the morning sickness and the guilt of having murdered someone, you were throwing up every bit of food or water you tried to digest, every shadow and small noise in your crappy, dirt cheap apartment at night sent you into a break down, sickened more with fear and the force of your sobs when you got overwhelmed. You never felt like you could relax, everything was nerve-wracking, and especially when you went outside. However, as the weeks passed, you got a handle on your fears. You weren't exactly okay, but you forced yourself to adjust and move on as best you could. As if the paranoia wasn't enough, you also had to deal with being pregnant on your own now. Oh god, I should've just stayed with Illumi! What the hell am I supposed to do about this whole thing?! You thought one night as you sat in your windowless bathroom, curled around the toilet, vomitting from the nerves, nausea, and violent sobbing, I wish I could just go back...apologize and just go back to the way things were. you lamented as you sucked in shakey, cold breaths that burnt your throat. It wasn't like you'd planned this far ahead, your escape attempt was a heat of the moment thing, fuelled by the fear of what might happen after you gave birth and the gut feeling that your partner would doom your child to a life akin to his own, which was definitely not a normal, healthy, or happy one. So, now you were left to suffer the last, stubborn thrashes of winter alone, in a crappy little apartment with walls so thin you could feel the last icy wind of winter when it blew, struggling with pregnancy symptoms and relentless paranoia of what will happen if or when Illumi finds you. After that night, you decided it was best to do what you could to lessen your stress, but that was easier said then done. For one, no matter the steps you took to ensure your safety, taking jobs great distances from where you live, whipping up a fake identity to use for work, limiting how often you went out, you could never fully convince yourself that you were safe from the Zoldyck family. Another thing that stopped you was your financial situation. You managed to nab a bit of cash from the car you'd stolen from the butler, using most of it on a cheap car, but, while a reasonable amount still, you still ended up taking up a job as a maid-for-hire of sorts, and usually your employers would tip you terrifically when they figured out you were pregnant, but with the gas bill, food, and the sketchy amount of rent you had to pay, you had little to nothing left to save for a better place or the baby. Finally, you realized after looking into it at one of your employer's homes during your break, that you were too far along in your pregnancy for termination, since at that point you were somewhere in your fourth month, so that left you with almost no other option than to find a way to give birth. After that, you just settled for having the child at home to avoid the paper trail a doctor's office would need and than leaving the baby at a church. They'll take the kid in and put it into foster care, which is a safer gamble than the Zoldycks. You thought, wiping the beginnings of tears from your eyes as you drove to the day's job. For the remainder of the day, you focused on your work, cleaning up toys, doing and folding laundry, making beds, the usual duties for this particular household, and did your best to not think about your past. That is, until you heard someone knock on the door while you were upstairs mopping the bathroom. The sound instantly sent ice down your spine. It felt as if the world skipped a beat in time with your heart, but at another knock, you took a deep breath and inched towards the distant door. Your heart thundered in your chest so hard that it hurt, but you picked your way down, staying away from the windows and doing your best to move stealthily with the slowly growing bump of your stomach until you could look out of the front door's peep hole. Thank the heavens it was simply your employer, a neatly dressed, glasses clad woman who you'd heard was a lawyer or CEO of some sort, not an assassin. So, just as she gave a third, more impatient knock, you opened the door, "I'm so sorry ma'am! I couldn't move too quickly to get to the door sooner," you said, not meaning to sound near hysterics, but at least that made you sound super apologetic as the woman huffed in annoyance, "It's fine, I just had my entire day upheaved." she said, walking in and you swiftly shut the door, not thinking much of the figure you saw standing at the roadside from the corner of your eye, she commonly had other helpers here when you were, it was likely just a gardener or someone to bring in her bags. "First, I burn myself with coffee at 6 am this morning, than I have to drive three damned hours to the airport just to find out my business trip was cancelled because the client decided to cut ties with my work! Ugh, don't get me started on tr-" The woman paused her ranting and hair adjustments suddenly, looking at you with concern and confusion on her dark-skinned face, "Are you alright, dear? Why are you crying?" Her voice was gentle, all annoyance gone when she'd realized you were upset, but it still made you jump and feel a small spark of guilt at the show of vulnerability, something you'd been fighting to repress. But your emotions had been so unpredictable recently, it only made sense that you failed. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me," you sniffed, scrubbing at your tears as she put a reassuring hand on your back and led you to a chair, letting you sit down, "Don't worry about it, I just thought I was the one to upset you. Are you sure you're alright?" You nodded as she looked you over, looking so parental and compassionate, it made your heart hurt. And just like that, even more tears were falling onto your clothes as a sharp knife of loneliness cut through you. You did your best to at least slow the streams of tears, but seeing this woman you hardly knew be so motherly and understanding reminded you of your own mother, or maybe those times Kikyo had helped you through the beginnings of morning sickness or nausea. Either way, your boss' actions hit a chord and now you were trying not to bawl while she offered you tissues and talked you down from the hormonal extreme. "I see now, must be the pregnancy talking." she laughed a little, "when I was expecting my eldest, the mood swings never really left, and just about anything would set me off. I remember one time, my husband had made me breakfast and I ended up sobbing over it for a good five minutes while he was just mortified." she said, giving you a comforting smile when you weakly laughed. Finally, when you were past the violent sobs, your boss helped you up and led you to the kitchen so you could splash some water on your face and she could get you some tea to help you relax. Once you were settled down at the table, warm cup of tea between your hands, your boss sat at the table with you and let you take a few sips before asking, "So, do you have any plans set for the baby?" she asked, and you felt her warm eyes drawing out all of your issues. You started out pretty vague, admitting you weren't really sure of what to do, but that soon led to you going into detail about how you didn't think you'd be keeping the child and probably putting them up for adoption since you couldn't afford them. You told her that you felt so bad for the decision, but you didn't want to raise your child in poverty or worsen their quality of life in general, which your boss understood, laying her dark hand on yours soothingly as you spoke. For the next hour or so, you sat with the woman and she helped you through all of your options. You told her that the father of the child wasn't the best, so she explained good ways to limit contact and how to keep track of every instance of neglect, abuse, or anything of the sort just in case things required lawyers and courts. By the time you'd left her home for the day, you were feeling much better about your situation, and while your plans to put the baby up for adoption hadn't changed, you were much more confident in the steps to go about it. You kept that job for two or three more trips, telling your boss of your plans to stop after that. She understood perfectly and made sure your pay was doubled, "Pretty soon you'll come up on being six months, you won't be able to do a lot in your third trimester." she pointed out after you refused to accept her money, but that wasn't the only kind thing she did for you. No, on your second to last job with her family she had basically spun you around at the door and herded you out to her car. "I understand you're trying to keep as low a profile as possible, but I can't in good conscious not have that child checked on." she told you as she drove you to a check up, patting your hand and just letting you bawl, but she refused to let you apologize for her helping. In fact, when you thought back on the drive after the appointment, she seemed somewhat sad, but you couldn't exactly place why and on the drive back you didn't want to ask and open an old wound. So, you simply didn't say anything about it and went home that night with knowledge that so far your baby seemed fine, and a tip from your boss to find some time to relax more, "Make sure to destress as best you can, it's good for your mental health and the baby." she advised, as motherly as ever. So, you decided on your drive home to give that advice a shot. At least once. So, after your last job with that family, while spring time was beginning to really settle in outside, leaving a crisp but fresh feeling night in the wake of a lukewarm day, you had borrowed a book from a neighbor and ran yourself a warm bath to hopefully relax in, even if you likely wouldn't be able to get out of it super easily when bedtime rolled around. Despite that fact, sinking into the warm water felt like heaven to your aching back, breasts, and hips. So, you relaxed in the water for a long while, two hours or so, just reading the book and occasionally putting your hand on your belly to feel the baby kick. The only thing that could've made the night better was if you had some scented candles and maybe a shoulder rub, but you were content with settling for this. All around, the night was near perfect, and that was somewhat because you refused to let your anxiety at the little creaks of your floor or the sounds of your neighbors opening their own doors in the ratty old hall destroy your good time. Eventually, you did get out of the cooled water with some work and got dressed in your comfiest clothes before going to bed, feeling rather happy and relaxed, and thus falling asleep rather quickly. That night, you had quite the weird dream. You weren't a stranger to nightmares about Illumi or the Zoldycks, but this dream was much more melancholy. At the start, it was pretty normal, a nonsensical flurry of dream-logic-fuelled, stream of consciousness, but than things got a bit easier to follow, and the dream took a turn from non-sense, to a bittersweet dream of laying in bed with Illumi again, letting him feel your belly and generally being happy with an undertone of 'something's off' to it. When you woke up the next day you were hit with a tsunami of yearning for that scenario, or any scenario that meant you got cuddled and comforted, and didn't feel so crushingly alone. For the twentieth time since the beginning of the month, you thought of returning to the Zoldyck estate, or at least making it easier for your fiance to find you, but than your common sense kicked in to stomp out that fantasy. No! If I go back my life will be more than just miserable boredom and restrictions. It'll become worse than hell! Illumi will be pissed beyond belief and will probably do something extreme to me! Your fearful inner voice had a point, Illumi had already threatened you when you'd asked to go out without him that day, he'd undoubtedly do worse to you for not only trying to run, but staying gone for so long and putting your baby under so much stress. Oh god, what would he do if I miscarry? The mere thought of his reaction was enough to settle the debate. You'd stay gone. You'd put up with the apartment that smelled of wet dogs and smoke, the paper thin walls, the exorbitant rent, you'd leave your baby at a church once they were born, and you'd go off the grid. If you could help it, you'd never go back to face Illumi and his family.

#Illumi x reader #sequel #outrunning obsessions #hxh #hunter x hunter #x reader #sequelette #Illumi zoldyck #fanfiction #quotev

51 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00864: Dogma

Warning: This chapter deals with the aftermath of the Umbara arc and touches on shock, PTSD, and related themes. Please skip this chapter if those things make you uncomfortable. (No grossness like the last chapter, though.)

For the first time in his life, Kix stood in the middle of the medbay and felt utterly lost. They had been picked up by the Resolute, pulled from Umbara's surface aboard General Skywalker's favorite ship, the Twilight. The medbay was filled with men from the 212th and the 501st alike, men mixed together more completely than they ever had been. They were united in one thing: they were clones.

Nothing else mattered right now, maybe nothing else would ever matter. They had been pitted together, forced to fight to the death against their own brothers, and for what? To help a corrupt Jedi prove that clones were defective? Nothing as petty as the colors painted on their armor could separate the troopers from their vode now.

The medbay was overflowing with troopers and Kix felt helpless. Most of the injuries were minor, easily treated, but the emotional trauma…

Everywhere he looked, Kix found brothers frowning, crying, raging at the injustice of it all, or looking just as lost as he felt. Every bed in the medbay was taken up and troopers still filed in. They leaned against the walls, sat eight to a bed, or just stood in the middle of the floor. Normally, the accepted procedure was to create temporary medbays in the Resolute's hangers, but Kix refused to do that. The bodies of his fallen brothers filled every hanger, and he would sooner be court-martialed than force injured or emotionally-vulnerable men to stare at the bodies of men who had died in transit.

And it was only those who had died on their way to the Resolute who were being recovered. The men who had fallen on Umbara's surface would be left there, left to become part of the planet's dark soil. The Republic didn't worry about burying the clones. The new teams who arrived to hold the planet would have orders to collect the numbers of fallen troopers. A full casualty report couldn't be made until then.

An envoy of Jedi healers was on the way to meet the Resolute, their needs deemed too severe to wait until they had docked at Coruscant. It was a surprise, but one that Kix wouldn't turn away. It seemed that, despite being seen as expendable by the Republic, there were some Jedi who felt the injustice of what the clones had undergone.

The generals were out and about, as well. General Skywalker had gone to console Captain Rex, who - according to clone gossip - had nearly destroyed his office after returning to the ship. General Kenobi and Commander Tano were circling the medbay comforting troopers. They did their best not to look hurt by the men who flinched away from them. They understood that such recent betrayal by a Jedi meant that they would not easily trust another.

Kix noted that every Jedi he had seen since they left Umbara was not wearing a lightsaber. Even Commander Tano's iconic dual hilts were missing from her crossed belts.

General Kenobi veered closer to Kix as he moved through the crowd and stopped to speak with him. "I offer my most sincere apologies, Kix. Please, if there is anything I can do to help-"

Kix had started shaking his head before the General had fully formed the question. His brothers wouldn't accept help from a Jedi just now, and it would just agitate them further. Between himself and the three medical droids, Kix knew he could keep the men in the medbay alive until the Jedi relief healers arrived. Just then, though, he had bigger concerns. "Are you all right, General?"

Kenobi looked surprised when Kix gestured at his face and raised a hand to touch the wet trails down his cheeks. "Oh. I hadn't… I just- There is a great deal of pain in this room," he finally explained without apology. "I despise seeing the men like this. I would do anything to remove the pain from them."

"You and I both, General," Kix agreed. He tried to move away in an effort to treat more of the men, but General Kenobi caught at his arm. Before he could fight the reaction, Kix gave a noticeable flinch.

With an apologetic grimace, Kenobi dropped his hand and said, "There's one man I worry about more than these. Dogma is in bad shape. I don't feel anything from him at all in the Force. It isn't a good sign. I know you're busy, but..."

"I'll check on him, sir," Kix assured him, moving away with a medic's clipped steps. At the moment, it still felt more fantasy than reality, but the need for a plan had helped him build concentration. The medbay was too full to be effective, and he needed to start moving troopers away from the area.

Kix easily found Fives and Jesse, sitting in silence in the back of the room. Having obviously decided that the beds were too crowded - or needed by other men - they had opted to sit on the floor with their backs firmly braced against the wall. "I need you both to direct some of the men out of here."

Fives shook his head. "You can't expect them to leave. They're scared."

"I know, but I can't save anyone if I can't move in here," Kix argued. "I know we've gone through a horrible tragedy, but I need them to find somewhere else. Take them to one of the barracks. They need space and quiet and sleep, if they can manage it. I'll even get the ship's mess to send food and drinks, but they need to be away from here."

Jesse's lips were pale. "I don't know if we can move them, Kix. I don't think I can do it."

Kix's temper sparked, but he kept his voice calm and supportive as he crouched down in front of the troopers. "You are both leaders in the 501st. Fives, you're an ARC trooper. Jesse, your actions back there have you in line for a promotion, I can guarantee it. The men look up to you. You've taken care of them this whole time and you'll keep taking care of them by making sure they get the food and rest that they need. Give me a second to get Captain Trapper from the 212th and you can start moving men to the barracks. Move them in small groups and make sure one of you stays at the barracks with them so they feel safe."

A few moments later, Kix led Trapper back to the others, having explained the plan to him as well. "Start with the men who seem most at ease. The nervous ones will follow once they see the others leaving. If any of the men start to show signs of illness or trauma, bring them back here and I'll take care of them."

Fives gave a decisive nod. "Right. Let's start with the men we know will come along. Jesse, get Tup, Gurr, and Strike. They're good at explaining things to people. I'll get Appo, Fledge, and Quasi. They can start convincing people to come with us."

Obviously catching on to Fives's plan, Jesse added, "We'll try to get as many men with us as we can on the first trip. That might get some of the nervous ones to follow along eventually."

"I'll get a few steady troopers from the 212th to help out," Captain Trapper agreed. "Kix, we'll take them to D-Barracks. In case anyone needs one of the men, that's where you'll find us."

Kix nodded his appreciation and the men started working. It was a surprisingly quick process. After the initial troopers had been informed of the plan and circulated the room for a few minutes, the first group left, leaving the medbay noticeably more quiet than it had been. It took a total of four trips to convince all the stragglers, but Kix was eventually left with only a few of the most drastically injured men, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano.

"Should we go to D-Barracks, too?" Ahsoka asked.

Kix gritted his teeth. "Sorry, Commander. Most of the men just aren't ready to be around the Jedi yet. They need a place they can see as being safe, a type of haven."

Open hurt flashed across the Togruta's face. "I just want to help."

"I know, sir, and the men know, too. Everything is just a little fresh right now," Kix assured her. "General, have you spoken to Commander Cody yet?"

General Kenobi sighed and tugged mournfully at his beard. "I tried, but I could sense that he didn't want me there. I cannot be upset that he blames me for the 212th's part in this tragedy. I blame myself, too."

"Sir, I have never known a commander to look up to their general more than Cody does to you. He needs some time, but he knows the only one to blame for this mess is Krell." He thought for a moment. "Can you find someone to relieve Admiral Yularen?"

"On the bridge?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "I likely could. May I ask why?"

"He isn't a clone, but he isn't a Jedi. He's a member of the GAR who many of the men look up to. His presence may help them heal. If he's willing, of course."

"Of course," General Kenobi agreed, leaving the medbay at a fast pace.

"Is there anything I can do?" Commander Tano asked.

"Can you order some of the food droids from the mess to deliver supplies to the men?" Kix asked. "They'll need food and water, but hot drinks like caf and tea will help with the shock. Admiral Yularen and the Jedi could help with the delivery side of things. It's a good reason to see and be seen by the men without making them feel invaded by the Jedi."

"I'll do that," Ahsoka told him, spinning decisively on her heel. "Thanks, Kix!"

Before she left the medbay, she paused by the doors to look back at him with her expressive face free of the typical Jedi mask. "I'm glad you're okay, Kix. I really am."

"Me too, Commander," he murmured, but she was long gone.

With a nearly empty medbay, Kix fixed his attention on Dogma. The trooper was huddled in the last bed, his wrists fastened together in front of him in a pair of well-used binders. He stared blankly ahead, giving no reaction even when Kix approached him. His normally intelligent face was slack and his right shoulder gave an occasional twitch.

"Dogma," he said softly. There was no response, and Kix repeated the trooper's name without hope of him answering.

He took a bioscan of Dogma's current state, unsurprised to find that his blood pressure and pulse were high. "Dogma, it's Kix. Can you hear me?"

After a long moment, Dogma repeated tonelessly, "...hear me?"

"Come on, vod," Kix cajoled. "I need you to come back here. Come back, Dogma. You're here, you're safe."

"...safe," Dogma echoed. His brows crinkled slightly, the minor shift seeming tremendously important with his lack of other response. "Not safe. Never safe."

"You are safe," Kix insisted. "You're safe, Dogma. You've made us all safe. No more Krell. You can come back now."

"Krell…" Dogma's eyes lit with recognition of the name and his entire face crumpled a moment later under the weight of the memories. "I killed him. I killed a Jedi."

"A traitor," Kix said firmly. "He wasn't a Jedi. No Jedi would have done what he did."

"He was a commanding officer," Dogma replied, sounding almost like his regulation-quoting self if not for the thickness in his voice. "I killed a commanding officer. The regs say I'll be court-martialed and found guilty. They'll either execute me or lock me away for the rest of my life. I'm not sure which is worse."

Kix rested a hand on Dogma's shoulder, unable to keep it from tightening as he felt the trembling in his brother's body. "You did what you had to do. Not only for us, but for all of the Republic. Krell was a traitor and he deserved to die. Should have died slower, if you ask me. You were too merciful."

Dogma gave a slight chuckle at that, though there was no joy in his eyes. "That's an interesting take on the situation. I don't think the GAR will follow your logic."

"I'll talk to whoever needs to hear me - anyone who will listen," Kix told him fiercely. "You took out a threat. That's what we're trained to do. You're a hero. You should be given a medal, not face a court-martial."

"Even the other men are avoiding me," Dogma said with a shake of his head.

Kix laughed. "Because you killed that ori'dush shabuir? Most of the men want to shake your hand."

Dogma laughed, but the sound quickly turned to stifled sobs and he began to tremble uncontrollably. When Kix was unable to get another response from Dogma and the trooper's blood pressure began soaring to dangerous levels, he administered a mild sedative and waited by the bedside until Dogma's scans showed normal levels once more.

After Dogma fell into a drug-assisted sleep, Kix moved quickly to his desk, opened a link to the holonet, and proceeded to abuse his medical access privileges.

"Kix?" Senator Amidala asked, her confused frown evident even through the unstable connection of the hololink. "Anakin told me what happened on Umbara. I am so sorry-"

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't have much time," Kix interrupted. Thankfully, the senator didn't seem offended. "I have the trooper here who finally put an end to General Krell. He's facing a court-martial and they'll most likely rule against him. I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but is there anything you can do?"

Senator Amidala fell silent, and Kix appreciated that she was taking the time to fully consider his question. "The Senate and the Grand Army of the Republic don't operate jointly, but I think I can find a way to bring this to the Senate's attention since there are clone rights bills on the floor. I will need a few details and I'll warn you that it'll become a publicity circus. Is your trooper all right with that?"

"It's better than death, ma'am," Kix said firmly.

"That is true," she agreed softly. "Send me a file with as much information as you can and I'll put together something. The Senate won't meet tomorrow, but that should give me enough time to get something ready. When will you land on Coruscant?"

"A little less than a standard week from now."

"That should be plenty of time, then."

Senator Amidala's confidence was enough to ease the burden on Kix's shoulders. "Thank you, Senator. I can't tell you what this will mean to Dogma - to all of the men, really."

"It's the right thing to do, Kix," she said, voice filled with conviction. "You and your brothers deserve consideration as thinking beings as well as for the work you do in service of the Republic. We'll give Dogma the best possible chance that we can."

"I couldn't ask for anything more," Kix told her fervently.

---

A/N - Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

70 notes · View notes

empyreanwritings · 4 years

Text

Almost Lost You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: near-death experience, mentions of blood loss, anxiety, minor angst with a happy ending

A/N: Look at me finally putting out a one-shot that isn’t mob related. Aren’t y’all proud of me? adklfjdsf this is written for @mycupoffanfiction ‘s writing challenge! My prompt will be bolded below - congrats on your milestone bby! you deserve all the followers in the world <3

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

The kitchen grew silent the moment you stepped into it. Everyone's eyes were on you, and you could tell they were gauging whether or not they could run over and hug you. Bucky was the first one up and pulling you into a hug, not caring if your body was still healing. You heard Natasha scolding him from her spot at the counter, but he didn't loosen his grip until you hugged him back.

One by one, the rest of the team walked over to give you hugs or gentle pats on the back. You pretended not to notice the way Natasha choked up when she came over to you. Almost losing you was hard on everyone, but she didn't want the others to think she was going soft.

"I'm surprised they discharged you already," Steve said as he made you a plate of eggs. "Did they have any say in the matter?"

"They did," you snorted. "Helen said I'm recovering a lot quicker than she expected. I can't go on assignments just yet, but I don't have to be cooped up in the med bay either."

"What's the damage?"

Bucky was the one to ask this question. Steve threw a glare over his shoulder, and the others didn't seem so pleased with it, but you smiled. It didn't bother you to talk about what the bomb did, especially with Bucky. He, of all people, knew what it was like to be scarred for the rest of your life. His metal arm was a constant reminder of who he used to be.

"The right side of my body was burned pretty bad, so there's going to be a lot of scarring once it's fully healed. Helen wanted to put me in the cradle and recreate the tissue, but I told her no, so we're doing it the old-fashioned way."

"Why? Wouldn't anyone want to keep themselves from being permanently damaged?"

You shrugged. "I think it's a good reminder that I'm still human. My powers may make me think I'm invincible, but I'm not."

There was a faraway look in Bucky's eyes when you said this, and you gave his shoulder a small squeeze to pull him out of his thoughts. He gave you a small smile and a nod before diving back into his breakfast.

By the looks on everyone else's faces, they didn't understand why you chose to heal naturally. The whole "I want to remember I'm human" reason didn't seem like a good enough reason to be scarred for the rest of your life, but you weren't going to explain it to them. There was nothing more to explain; you made a bad call in the middle of an assignment because you didn't think anything could ever hurt you, and you got hurt. You were feeling a lot more humble lately because of it.

You looked around the room, trying to spot the one person you've been craving to see since you woke up. Steve noticed your wandering eyes and shook his head - she hadn't joined anyone for breakfast since that day. She stayed locked in her room most of the time.

You stuffed the rest of your eggs into your mouth and quickly excused yourself to find Wanda. You felt a small twinge of anger at her for shutting herself away from everyone else - away from you. She never once visited you when you woke up, and while you appreciated everyone else's love, you really only wanted her company. Every day she didn't visit, you grew just a little more upset.

Wanda's eyes grew wide when she opened her bedroom door and found you standing on the other side. She silently took in your appearance; you noticed the way her eyes lingered on the bandages wrapped tightly around your arm and torso and sighed. It looked like it pained her to see you like this.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one you are avoiding." You pushed your way past her and made your way to her bed. You plopped onto the side you know she normally slept on and pulled one of her pillows on your lap. She didn't move from her spot by the door, and it only made the anger inside of you bubble up more.

You gestured to the corner of her room where her desk lamp lied in pieces on the floor. "What happened over there?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, right, nothing," you hummed in annoyance. "Because that certainly looks like nothing. You don't visit me in the med bay; you shut yourself in this room and avoid the rest of the team; and your desk lamp is broken, but it's nothing! Everything is fine and dandy in Wanda's head."

She shook her head. "Don't start, please."

"Don't start what? I'm just trying to understand why the hell you've been avoiding me!" You sat up and looked Wanda straight in the eye. You wanted to understand what she was feeling, and you wanted her to feel the heartbreak you felt when your best friend didn't come to check on you. But she broke your gaze and looked down at her feet. "I can understand the others because they're, sometimes, lame but me? I needed you, and you weren't there."

She stayed silent. She refused to look up at you and face the anger you clearly felt, and you let out a small, humorless laugh. If she didn't want to talk, you wouldn't force her. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for her, either.

You slid off her bed and made your way back to the door. You stopped in front of her, gave her a moment to see if she would say anything, but when she didn't, you scoffed and left without another word.

"Y/n, wait-" She tried to reach out for you, but she stopped in fear of grabbing the wrong arm. She didn't want to hurt you or make anything worse.

"No, forget it. I have nothing else to say to you. If you want to keep avoiding me and the rest of the team, that's fine."

"Please just listen to me for one second."

"Just tell me why you're being so fucking weird recently!"

She bit her lip. Tears started to well up in her eyes, and you felt your anger instantly dissipate. Seeing her so torn up made you forget why you were mad in the first place. You hated yourself for raising your voice at her, but she didn't give you time to take back your words because she was pulling you into a hug before she could.

"I'm in love with you," she sobbed as she nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm in love with you, and I almost lost you. Do you understand how that felt for me? To hold you in my arms and watch the light literally leave your eyes?"

You weren't sure what to say. You had no idea what that must have been like for her - it was something you never had to experience, thankfully. While you were recovering from the blast, Wanda lived with the memories of watching you fade away from her. No matter how much she begged you to stay awake, no matter how much she wished it was her instead of you, you almost died. And she couldn't help but blame herself for not getting to your dumb ass sooner. Maybe she could have convinced you to be a little more cautious.

Maybe she could have saved you before the bomb went off.

"I took so many showers that night," she confessed quietly, "But I still couldn't get the feeling of your blood off my arms. I tried to come see you - I really did - but every time I stood outside your room, I just remembered the look on your face when you-"

You shushed her, not wanting to work herself up with the memories of what happened. She melted in your embrace when you started to run your fingers through her hair.

She thought she lost your touch forever. She thought she was going to have to live with the fact she loved you and never got to tell you. You could no longer be angry with her for not visiting you because you couldn't imagine that kind of torture.

If you lost Wanda…you weren’t sure you'd be able to keep it together.

You weren't sure how long she stood in your arms, but you had no intention of making her move until she was ready. She needed the chance to enjoy having you back, and you weren't going to take that away from her. Even if your legs were starting to fall asleep from standing so straight.

At one point, Bucky and Steve were making their way towards the hallway, but you quickly shook your head and made them turn in the other direction. Wanda would be horrified if she knew the others saw her breaking down like this. They could handle not going back to their room for another hour or so.

Wanda pulled away slowly and wiped at her eyes to control some of the mascara that was running down her cheeks.

"I look like a mess, don't I?"

You shook your head. "You look beautiful as always."

"I didn't mean for all that to come out," she murmured. "You don't have to say anything back. I understand that I unloaded a lot on you."

There was a lot you wanted to say. If you could take back the stupid decisions you made, you would. You didn't think about how your actions would affect those around you, and you should have. You were aware of that now. You could spend the rest of your life making up for what you did, but no one would ever ask you to do that.

You saved a lot of citizens that day. As much as your team hated what you did, they knew what would have happened if you didn't take the risk.

Wanda waited for you to say something. You could tell by the way she rocked back and forth on her feet that she felt awkward, but she wasn't going to admit that out loud. She had done enough confessing to last a lifetime.

"Ya know, I think I've loved you since the day we met," you replied after another beat of silence.

"You did not!" She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a liar. You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm not, I really think I did!"

"Stop, you're literally such a liar. We hated each other when we first met."

You gasped. "Did not! I didn't particularly like you because you knocked me on my ass and looked hot as hell while doing it, but I could never hate you."

She looked back down at her feet, trying to conceal the smile on her face with her hair, but it was useless. You already saw it before she even had a chance to hide, and it made a smile grow on your face as well. You thought about making a cheesy comment about how she had the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen, but she wouldn't believe you. Yet.

"There's the smile I love seeing," you teased and gave her side a gentle nudge. "Do you want to get some breakfast?"

"I'm okay. I actually haven't slept yet, and I think my energy is officially sapped from my body." You nodded, taking a step back so she can have some air. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to."

Your eyebrows raised, and your smile grew wider at her word. "Oh?"

"I mean, I just-" She huffed. "I'm just saying, I know you probably didn't sleep well in the med bay, so if you wanted to catch up on sleep, you can do it in my room."

"You don't have to ask me twice, darling."

Wanda stepped aside and let you back into the room. You took a few steps forward but stopped before you went too far. She began to question your actions, but you whirled around and pulled her back into an embrace, this time taking the chance to finally kiss her.

Your hands were on her cheeks. You felt her hesitate for the slightest moment, but she eased into it before you could step back and wonder if this was okay. The second her hands found your hips and pulled you closer, you knew she was more than okay with this moment.

It wasn't a passionate kiss; it was slow and tender. It was your way of reminding her that you were okay, and you weren't going to leave her any time soon. Comfort. Love. Need. The kiss was everything you wanted to say but couldn't find the words to truly convey how you felt, and it was more than enough for Wanda. For the first time since the accident, she felt like she could finally breathe.

"Believe me now?" You mumbled against her lips.

She hummed in amusement. "Not for a second."

"I guess I'll have to keep trying."

"I guess you'll have to."

#ellies1500 #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch one shot #scarlet witch fanfiction

841 notes · View notes

niall-the-churchboy · 4 years

Note

Niall and y/n get pregnant

You want a baby, baby? ~ Niall Horan

In which he wants a baby but she’s afraid he’ll replace her.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Mainly just fluff

A/n: Hi lovely anon! I’m so so sorry I took to long to write your request but my sister is leaving for college and I’ve been in a bit of a low. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!!

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

It finally seemed that after two whole years married, you had all the time in your hands to be with your husband. Sure, being quarantined wasn’t the best case scenario and you were sad that Niall had to cancel his tour but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit glad to have a much needed intimacy and privacy from all the social life with Niall.

However, with the recent news that Zayn and Gigi were expecting a baby girl the whole internet had gone crazy and fans were patiently waiting for you and Niall to announce you were expecting too. I mean, it made sense, you had been dating for more than six years and been married for two, after marriage comes the baby basket, right? And you’ve always been fond of the idea of babies, more when you imagine one with mixed features of Niall and you, but you didn’t want to jeopardise this whole spare time you had been granted with Niall. Even if it seems selfish, you were kinda afraid the baby was gonna steal Niall’s attention from you.

Unfortunately, for you, now that Niall had time to lay on the couch and relax, he came to the conclusion that something was missing in the house. What could possibly be missing? A baby. Besides, he had encouragement--and a bit of pressure too--from Maura and Bobby who called every week or so and claimed they wanted another grand-child apart from Theo.

The timing was perfect, Niall finally had time to welcome a baby, and him and Y/n had talked about raising a family in the past so why wait even more? He was growing his confidence in asking Y/n little by little, but the thought of a child running around the house, with his nose and Y/n’s beautiful eyes, was more than enough to have his heart fluttering with anticipation of a new kind of life.

Y/n noticed this, of course, Niall seemed more up-beat and enthusiastic, but the reason for it was beyond her knowledge so she just assumed he was enjoying all the free time. She did become more suspicious when Niall could barely take his hands off of her, practically clinging right behind her whenever she moved from one place of the apartment to the other. Oh, and how jealous he looked whenever Liam FaceTimed them and little bear appeared hopping behind.

It was nearing nine in the morning when he sat on the stool and watched her as she prepared herself some tea to start the day, the day before he had woken up sure to confront her about a baby but given she had felt a little bit funny all day he decided to delay his question. Now, in the middle of the shinning white kitchen, her beautiful face concentrated in the task at hand, it seemed like the perfect moment.

“Love?”, she barely raised her eyes at him, only replied with a sleepy ‘hmm?’ “I wanted to ask you something?” This captured her attention, Niall was usually the type to ask straight away and not dance around the question. Looking at him she noticed his hands were sweating.

“Yes?” her mind scavenged for what could possibly be so important it made him shift on the stool nervously and try to neat his bed hair.

“I’ve been thinking...”, he stood up and walked around the kitchen isle until he was looking down at her, “now that I have the time and everything seems more relaxed and airy...” he placed both his hands on each of her sides pulling her closer, however never enough to lose eye contact, “you know... You and me... We could maybe, start a family?”

Y/n frowned confused trying to take in what he meant, but the second everything clicked she placed a sturdy hand against his chest as she felt a weird feeling at the pit of her stomach. “You want a..., baby?” The second Niall nodded she felt the weird sensation crawling up her body, hardly giving her time to push away Niall and empty her stomach on the kitchen sink.

----------

Niall was sitting on the sofa, the past feeling of flutter in his heart long gone and scarcely any hope.

The second he saw Y/n’s figure contracting forward and heard her throw up, he took her hair in his hand and moved it away from her face as he rubbed her back with his other hand. He was happy he had asked, now she knew where he wanted to go, but they hadn’t talk about it after given that she still looked nauseous and dizzy and Niall was fully concerned she had caught something that may need medical treatment during such bad conditions the world was. His question was far from being answered though, and that made him surprisingly miserable.

Y/n knew that sooner or later she had to comfort Niall about the whole baby thing, she was fully aware that he was probably waiting nervously for when she’ll bring up the topic. After the day and a half, she decided she couldn’t make him wait any longer, so with hesitant steps she approached him.

A golf tournament was playing on low volume which meant he probably wasn’t paying as much attention, there was an abandoned cup of tea on the coffee table and his guitar laying on the other couch that hinted he had been playing. The second the wooden floor creaked against her foot he turned almost instantly.

“Hello, love. Are you feeling better?”, she fell next to him on the sofa and Niall brought a hand to her forehead to check if she had a fever. She nodded before nuzzling against his chest, pushing the moment she’ll have to comfort him just a bit further.

Her mind was pretty much a huge mess of tangled thoughts, with how weird she had been feeling and Niall’s prompt of wanting to have a baby, everything appeared ten times as confusing. Deep, deep down, she knew she wanted a baby too, she’d always adored babies with their tiny hand and chubby legs, but she feared that the second they’ll be expecting Niall’s attention would be jeopardise and she’ll stop being his number one.

“I just - love you...”, she sighed relieved to have Niall’s scent fill her lungs. He embraced her just as hard, kissing the top of her head before resting on it. Y/n closed her eyes, the feeling of nervousness origin once agin at the pit of her stomach, it was time to face him. “Niall...”

“Yes, princess?

“Do you really want a baby?”, he froze at her question, Niall had been sure she wasn’t going to bring the topic anytime soon after how she had reacted.

He granted himself a few seconds before answering. “Y/n, there’s nothing I wish more - well, besides having you next to me for the rest of my life”, he had parted himself from her so he could look at her right in the eye. He watched attentively as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply in and out.

“I’m just scared...”, she began, “trust me, I want a baby as much as you do, but - I don’t know... We finally have all this time for ourselves and never in my life have I had you for me for so long...”, oh how selfish she felt, it made her eyes prickle with tears, “I - I just enjoy having you all to myself and the thought of sharing you...”

Niall smiled, hardly ever Y/n was jealous, and the fact that she was afraid an unborn child might replace her made him love her harder. “Y/n..., never ever will our child make me love you any less. Even if we have thousands of babies that are far less complex than you and don’t get angry as easy will I ever replace you. You are my princess, forever will be and no one could ever change that”, he brushed off a single tear that rolled down her cheek and placed his thumb on her smooth lips.

Suddenly Y/n felt incredibly stupid for ever thinking that a baby could jeopardise Niall’s love for her, and the idea of having a baby that represented the immense love they have for each other, a mix of their features, made her heart swell with happiness.

“Good. Then this is probably a good time to tell you I think I’m pregnant...”, a shy smile drew on Y/n’s face as Niall’s expression contracted with surprise.

Even with everything going around, 2020 was going to be an amazing year.

#niall horan #niall horan imagine #niall horan oneshot #Niall Horan fan fiction #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fandom #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fandom #one direction one shot #one direction fluff #one direction blurb #one direction reunion #one direction 2020 #niall horan blurb #harry styles #zayn malik #liam payne #louis tomlinson

72 notes · View notes

angelic-jeonghan1004 · 4 years

Text

You're In For It || Chani

Request: hello !! i just saw your blog and i saw your taking requests hehe i would like to request 7 with sf9 chani 🥺 preferably a written one! and could u make it a college setting with bad boy chani or e2l 🥰 fluff or smut hehe thank you!

-OoOO I biased Chani before I biased Taeyang so I'm living for this request 🤧 it's mature but it's not smut, a lot of teasing I will say. To specify btw I have 1-2 more requests with this prompt left these are just ones I haven't gotten around to but I no longer do prompt #7 💓 I have a idea for a part 2 which would involve smut so I'd you enjoy this and want a part 2 I definitely can get that done 💞 I'm sorry this took so long btw I made it a bit longer than most of my fics as a sorry for the wait💕

Synopsis: Chani always teased you and one day you had enough of it, so why not reverse the roles?

Prompt: #7 "Come sit in my lap"

Pairing: Bad Boy! Chani x female reader

Warning: strong language, teasing, palming, dirty talk, heated make out

Gif credit to owner

The amount of classes you have with Chani is more, than you want it to be seeing you spend 3/7 days a week with him. Classes with Chani would be fine if he wasn't the college bad boy next to the rest of his "gang." He looks and acts the part which you'd tune out if he didn't target you for his risky teasing, always getting you hot and bothered when you where trying to focus; the fact he recently started calling you "baby" doesn't help it either. A prime example of the teasing he likes to pull would probably be the time like last Monday when you where waiting for the lecture to start and found a place to sit, Chani spotting you sat behind you and whispered dirty talk into your ear almost the whole time, leaving you a mess. Friday being today is one of those unlucky days you have to see him, you found a chair and waited for him to walk in and act all cool with his leather jacket only to rile you up and leave. You watched the door until you saw him walk in, catching eye contact with him very quickly he walked up to you.

"Hey baby" he said leaning on the desk in front of you with a strong smirk.

"What do you want." You said in a done sounding voice.

"Wow a little attitude I see, maybe you'll take my offer today?" Chani said with a bit of a chuckle, smug grin never leaving his face.

"What would that be?" You couldn't help your ears perked up in interest of what he had to say, obvious in your eyes how you wanted him to continue.

"At 8 my place me and my boys are hosting a party, you should come." He said slipping you a paper with his address, you picked it up and put it in your bag causing a wave of excitement to rush over him until your next sentence came out.

"Party's aren't my thing, you also could find way better arm candy than me to be there" you said tapping your pen against the table. The look he gave you seemed a bit hurt but you couldn't tell why.

"Nah baby I only want you, are you acting all tough to hide the fact your just a good girl who doesn't go to party's?" He said with a hint of sadness in his voice, did he really mean that? But that last part still had you keep your guard up so why not throw fire at fire.

"Fuck off, I won't be going now actually find a seat and get your work done for once."

"Wow using some big words there, fine I didn't think you'd come anyway but I shoot my shot atleast." He said with a little defeat in his voice but still with that smirk he entered the door with. He found a place to sit after that and suprisingly didn't bother you, which you oddly kinda missed; you can't hide the underlining feelings you have for him that well, atleast well enough for others not to know, but you can't help that he makes you feel special when he riles you up; his words can sound charming even if he's talking so mischievously. Throughout the class you took notes and kept thinking about that stupid party, you at first where opposed to the idea but now you've warmed up to it and imagining the look on his face proving him wrong when he sees you actually there. Once the class had been dismissed you had nothing else to do that day so you went straight to your dorm, you kept pondering on the idea of what you should wear. The clothes you had where cute but you wanted something that would rile him up for a change and have the looks on you; finding a red crop top and black shorts you decided why not fit some e-girl realness and look sexy doing it catching all the bad boys attention. It wasn't even 7:30 yet but you still where completing your look already, finding a choker you got a while ago to wear since you wouldn't lie they made you feel powerful and sexy and that's exactly what you need to get into Chani's head. Sooner than later the clock hit 7:45 and you head out to be at the party on time, getting there surprised it was already starting to get filled quite quickly when the party had started not long ago. Making your way through the house you spotted Hwiyoung, your goal was to find Chani so you hoped he'd have help into finding where he is; you walked up to him and caught him by surprise from your outfit being different and hot compared to your normal clothes you'd walk around on campus with.

"Do you know where I could find Chani?" You said, he looking you up and down taking in the sight of you; causing your ears to go a little red.

"he'll probably be in the kitchen grabbing more drinks, if he can't fill up your time we'll you can find me for certain." He said with a small wink.

You ventured to the kitchen spotting him, you walked up to him from behind and tapped his shoulder ready for the reactions that he'd bring. Turning around his jaw almost dropped and you could see his eyes go dark with the lust in his eyes drinking in the sight of you, leaning in to whisper in your ear he said.

"Baby I didn't expect to see you here, especially not so fucking hot. Did you dress like this for me baby? To make me want to do unspeakable things? If so it's working baby." He said with his voice two octaves lower than usual catching you by surprise, none the less a idea popped in your head on how to get him back for all the times he's riled you up. Quickly tip toeng you put your hand in his and squeezed it whispering back.

"Where's your room? We'll need it." In less then a second he had you both walking at a fast pace to his room, once reaching it he eagerly shut the door and walked up and sat at the edge of his bed.

"Come sit in my lap" He said less of a invitation and more as a demand which you where quick to go up and staddle your legs around his waist, not knowing if he should touch you he looked up at you with confirmation.

"feel free to touch me." You said giving him the go and he wrested his hands on your thighs. Waisting no time you started kissing his neck and leaving little marks trying to find his sweet spot, once you reached the middle of his neck you head a grown come from his throat as he squeezed your thighs causing you to suck harshly on it ensuing a moan to come out. You found your way to his lips and quickly got stuck in a heated kiss, he swiped his tongue on your bottom lip asking for access which you quickly opened your mouth granting him; soon turning into a fight of tongues for dominance. Your arms left his shoulders and you sneaked your hand to his black sweatpants finding their way to his covered almost fully hard cock which you soon started packing causing deep moans to come from his throat.

"You want me to wrap my lips around you and suck you so hard you eyes roll back don't you? It's what you always say so I bet you want it don't you." You said breaking the kiss gasping for air.

"Yes baby please I need to feel your pretty lips around me, cant you just feel how hard I am from this alone? I never knew you where so dirty" He said panting but still having that smug expression on his face, giving him a quick peck you then smirked at him. You got up causing him confusion, only to bring him to even more when you made your way to the door of his room opening it.

"Too bad you have to wait for another day love, you can fix your problem today like how I have to each time you rile me up." You said quickly exiting making your way to the front and to your car, once inside you didn't realize Chani was on your tail the entire time.

"Now I may say many things to you to get you going but if you asked I would never leave you hanging, I have a serious problem and I need you to fix it since you caused it baby." He said voice full of hunger. You went into you car and grabbed your journey for one of your majors and ripped off a piece of paper grabbing the pen from your cars cup holder and putting your number on it.

"Maybe you wouldn't leave me hanging but you've been turning me on every week for months now this is the least of payback I could do, here's my number if you want me to fix one of your problems later but that is only allowed if you think of me as not a one night stand and a long time deal instead." You said handing him the piece of paper, hoping that if he does choose to do anything with you; you can confess your feelings so he can hopefully stop toying with you and be with you instead. You drove off, after about 3 minutes hearing many dings from your phone go off almost till you reached the host did those stop. Grabbing your phone exiting your car you quickly got inside preparing yourself for the texts you where soon to see from probably Chani.

[unknown number:] it's Chani, baby your in for it after that.

Quickly adding Chani to your contacts you checked the wrest of the texts he'd sent.

Chani: baby I just had to fix my problem, my hands didn't feel as good as how you'd feel wrapping around me but I can only imagine.

Chani: I'm in it for a long time ride with you, you're everything I want.

Chani: Tonight changed how I thought you where baby I'm surprised, I thought you where just a goodie that got flustered easily but your kinky, what else you got as a surprise for me? Sadly you left before anything could happen I could've given you pleasure in any way you pleased.

In other words you have problems to fix for yourself too and now ready to prepare for what class will be like seeing him next Monday.

Chani: make free time tomorrow, you need to finish what you started since I need to feel your pretty lips around me or me filling you up since because of your stunt I won't be going easy on you.

Scratch next time seeing him Monday, it's now time to prepare for tomorrow.

#chani x reader #sf9 chani #sf9 imagines #sf9 x reader #sf9 smut #sf9 reactions #taeyang x reader #youngbin x reader #inseong x reader #Hwiyoung x reader #dawon x reader #rowoon x reader #jaeyeon x reader #zuho x reader #chani x reader smut

112 notes · View notes

dercolaris · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

A new translation of one of my Scriddler stories, because @finzphoenix posted her picture to it (again, thank you!) and I thought it would be nice for everyone to have it in English. The flow is okay I think and overall working. I can live with that^^ Also a huge thank to @shin-arei for helping me with checking for some errors.

I hope you all enjoy it! Have fun!

Edward growled in frustration. Batman had been able to solve every single one of his puzzles so far, even with little difficulty. Sometimes the black-haired man wondered whether the dark knight didn't secretly have some helpers behind him. Maybe that was why he got the answers so fast every time. There was really no other logical way to explain it. His ideas were far too brilliant and sophisticated to be resolved so quickly. A loud beep signaled that the minutes were finally over. He opened the door of the microwave and touched the plate fearlessly without thinking, then drew his fingers back immediately. The man cursed louder than planned: "Damn, it's freaking hot! Well, at least the baby is working again. You're the best, Edward. As always of course.” The Riddler grinned and put his aching fingertips in his mouth, cooling the skin with his saliva. There was probably no device that he couldn't fix somehow. After a while he let his fingers slip out of his mouth and began to tidy up the table, putting the used tools back in the right places. That action probably made no sense to an outsider, but even in this apparent chaos, there was some kind of order. As a proof, the tinkerer usually never had to search long when he needed something from his work area. Jonathan of all people had to make fun of this at regular intervals and was very amused by this situation. In principle, this was more than contradictory from his partner, as he himself had no functioning system for meaningful organization and the countless laboratory utensils in his room simply came to rest where he had just used them. Edward snorted calmly. The constant accuse of Jonathan, that he's the mess in the relationship was on the verge of ridicule. Edward quickly let go of the ludicrous thought and strolled towards the hallway, turning off the light when leaving his workshop. Fortunately, they shared a common habit of leaving the lamps on in the corridor. The tinkerer strode across the gray wood on the floor, looked carefully into the adjoining room on the left, and raised an eyebrow. To his amazement, the laboratory was empty. His lips formed a thin line. Was Jonathan going to the toilet or, to the great surprise of whole Gotham, indulging in something to eat? The Master of Riddles walked into the stuffy room and dared to take a look at all the papers on the desk. A total mess.

“One after the other, Ed. Where the fuck did I put that stupid screw now? Damn. Bugger me. It can't just have vanished into thin air! For god sake!” The tinkerer sighed in exasperation and threw several tools over his shoulder, quietly talking to himself with clenched teeth. His entire workplace was a complete mess and any attempts to control it ended with the fact that the chaos after cleaning was often worse than before. At this point, the black-haired man had to admit a bitter defeat in his life. The shambles couldn't be tamed, no matter what he tried. Edward systematically rummaged through a large pile of bolts and nuts in a metal can, occasionally cursing when touching the sharp edges of some implements. His fingers finally fished out the correct object. He grinned wider, let the iron rotate skillfully between his fingers and muttered with conviction: “Well, there we have the culprit. No one escapes Edward Nygma.” With that, he turned back to the broken microwave and inserted the missing screw into the fitting opening in the metal case. The device had surprisingly stopped working yesterday evening. It was no problem to replace it with a new purchase of course, but where was the fun in just rebuying it? The tinkerer absolutely loved taking care of defective equipment and getting things working again, that any other mechanic would probably have thrown in the trash right away. The Riddler leaned down a bit and fumbled with his fingers on the timer. The lamp inside started to glow promisingly. To confirm his suspicion, he put a porcelain plate in the microwave and turned it on. Hopefully, a few minutes would be enough to heat up the dish. The Master of Riddles crossed his arms over his chest and watched the action with observant eyes. Edward groaned slightly, tapping his upper arms impatiently with his fingers. It was absolutely incomprehensible to many other villains, why the infamous Riddler often dealt with obvious trivialities. In their eyes it was just a complete waste of time. The tinkerer grimaced a bit and stared at the slowly descending digits on the black display. Most of the criminals simply had no idea how his brilliant mind worked. He wasn’t really capable of multitasking, but doing just one thing for half an eternity plunged the black-haired man into a deep depression sooner or later. A lack of success was a poison for his soul. Foresighted, the inventor had got used to the habit of including such short works, even if there were actually more important things on the to-do list. His partner was very different in this point. Jonathan almost never made it seem like he didn't mind getting results right away. Just the permanent further development of his fear toxin and the search for confirmation of his daring theory of fear reduction in human beings would drive the Master of Riddles insane in no time. Perhaps, that was one of the main reasons, why he almost always failed in his plan to humiliate the bat brain, which was clearly underexposed and shouldn't be a huge challenge under normal circumstances.

He picked up an almost fully written sheet of paper, which somehow seemed out of place for him, and stared at the lines in pure disbelief. The former psychiatrist had a typical doctor's handwriting and it had cost the tinkerer some nerves to be able to decipher it to some extent. Even now there were still words on the piece of paper that he could only interpret with a great amount of creativity. The unknown characters and numbers between the text made it still clear, that the older man was working on some new parts of his formula. Chemistry had never been Edward's specialty. With a small sigh he put the paper back on the table and went to the window, slowly moving the dark green curtain aside. Even if the sun was staying a little longer on the sky in autumn, twilight fell surprisingly quickly over Gotham in the early evening hours. The soft red gradually gave way to an almost dripping darkness. The Riddler put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at the surrounding area with an uneasy feeling. That they had to live near a forgotten piece of forest and that the first signs of a possible civilization were a good ten kilometers away emphasized the eerie atmosphere. Jonathan clearly enjoyed the solitude, or rather the intimate togetherness, in the Victorian house. In return, he was willing to take several miles to get to the next suburb. The brown-haired man had withdrawn more and more in recent years and finally decided to eke out his existence outside of society. Edward smiled softly. That was phrased a bit pessimistically, but hit the point quite well. He knew that his partner absolutely loathed unnecessary small talk between neighbors. He had probably worked as a psychiatrist long enough to be fed up with humanity for a lifetime and beyond. The Riddler, on the other hand, found the situation in pure isolation still extremely strange and it made him more than nervous when noises from the forest slipped through the open windows randomly. He would never admit it openly to his partner, but it was quite scary to live here in the woods. The inventor averted his gaze from the window and went back into the hallway, searching the rest of the first floor for the gaunt man. When he found no trace of Scarecrow in the living room either, the black-haired man paused for a second. Had he forgotten an appointment? Not really. Edward took out his pocket calendar and slowly flipped through the weeks, finally stopping at the current day. Nothing. He frowned. Had there been a valid reason for Jonathan to go outside and leave him?

The tinkerer went to the glass door to the veranda and dared a look out at the white, slightly shabby wooden framework. The misshapen ceiling lamps were all rusted from the constant rain. The Riddler stretched his head a bit more to be able to see better into the blurry distance and finally spotted the very narrow back at the other end of the creaking floorboards. He slowly pushed the door aside and stepped out into the cool night air. Without any hurry he walked to his partner, leaned next to him on the wooden parapet and followed the staring eyes of the former psychiatrist up in the sky. The full moon stood ominously in the center of the blackness, clearly stole the show from the great number of twinkling stars beside it. The brown-haired man was breathing heavily, almost in awe: “Isn't it a breathtaking sight, Edward? When I look at the glowing constellations in the night sky, I feel how insignificant my short existence on earth actually is. Fascinating.” The Master of Riddles was startled, but initially said nothing about this cruel statement. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. A gentle breeze caught the couple on the porch and made them both barely noticeably trembling. The black-haired man finally mumbled: “Not really, John. I find it rather scary to occupy myself too much with my own impermanence.” The other gave a muffled laugh and turned slowly to the tinkerer. Edward let his eyes slide leisurely down from the dark sky, stared into the pitch-black forest. A few crows flew out of the tree tops with a loud crack and briefly covered the moon. Distracted, the inventor didn't notice that the former psychiatrist had hold out his hand to him. A quiet throat clearing made him suddenly aware of the unexpected gesture. The Riddler looked inquiringly at his partner, then hesitantly touched the long fingers in front of him. Jonathan took a step closer to him and placed his other hand on the hip of the black-haired man, smiled meaningfully. The Master of Riddles still wasn't quite sure what the other was up to. The lean man spoke softly: "Don't be afraid, Edward. Even if your existence will not matter to many, your presence in my life will make a huge difference.” With these words he began to move, gently leading his significant other through the night in a slow dance. The Riddler blushed slightly and finally put his free hand on the older man's narrow shoulder, surrendering to the unusual moment without really questioning it. He studied the angular face of the brown-haired man, looking for the many bumps on his pale skin. The blue, icy eyes drilled deep into his soul as usual and searched successfully for all the small and bigger secrets that Edward wanted to keep to himself.

Jonathan was extremely talented at drawing out every painful detail in his life without revealing too much about himself. The tinkerer didn't even know if the older one was a Gotham native. There were clear indications that the former psychiatrist did not come from a big city, or at least had not lived in one for a long time. He was overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the main streets far too quickly and preferred the quieter suburbs to the lively center, although this only had disadvantages in his actual situation. In addition to these signs, there was also a strange accent, which the thin man tried to desperately suppress. It was only audible when he was immensely excited or visibly upset. Otherwise Scarecrow was a walking mystery. A mystery he still couldn't solved. Edward blinked two times and carefully laid his face into the crook of the other's neck, instantly enjoying the faint warmth emanating from him. The pleasant smell of roasted coffee rose to his nose. Jonathan usually drank at least one pot of the black liquid and since he often played with a few beans while working, his fingers also smelled of freshly brewed coffee. The former psychiatrist's chest rose and fell evenly. The Master of Riddles closed his eyes, simply relaxing, listening to the rhythmic beating of the heart of his counterpart. They moved in unison across the floorboards, only accompanied by the gentle glow of the moonlight, which tried to cast its shadows on the wooden facade. Edward clawed his fingers a bit deeper into the soft fabric of his partner's oversized shirt and practically held onto it. After a while he heard the hoarse voice of Jonathan's whisper: "We are immortal in moments like this, Edward." The tinkerer shuddered slightly and looked up in amazement, staring breathlessly into the blue eyes of the gaunt man. Jonathan leaned forward without a word, tenderly sealing their lips in a sensual kiss.

#DC #Batman #edward nygma #Jonathan Crane #riddler #scarecrow #scriddler #arkhamverse #finzphoenix #shin-arei #dercolaris

23 notes · View notes

joopiterjoon · 4 years

Text

Adored and Nothing More

Pairing: YoonJin Queerplatonic

Genre: PG, Slice of Life, Fluff?

Warnings/Tags: Aro!Jin, Ace-Spectrum!Yoongi, handholding, YoonJin complaining, self-discovery

Wordcount: 3k

A/n: I wrote this based on a joke with @kpopfan-antics... and then turned it into a fic.. and made it soft because what else is new.

Part of FicsWithLuv’s FWLBingo!

“Coffee?” Yoongi’s voice draws Jin out of his intense focus on the game that’s been in his hands so long they’re cramping. Jin blinks a few times before he fully registers the small man in his doorway. He leans on Jin’s doorframe, hair a mess and hoodie on despite the summer heat. It’s a typical contrast to be seen in the apartment- Jin in his boxers and a sweatshirt while Yoongi’s bundled up head-to-toe.

The most recent apartment suits them well. In college, the soft pastels of Jin’s side seemed comedic compared to Yoongi’s all-black-or-bust space. Now, Jin’s room faces the sun, while Yoongi’s faces the adjacent apartment building. Jin can look out into the day, and Yoongi’s room is kept cool by the lack of light.

Jin gives a small smile to his roommate before heaving out of the bed for the first time all day. He groans as he stretches.

“Old man,” Yoongi teases.

“Hey, that’s rich coming from you,” Jin argues as he shucks his hoodie and pulls a shirt over his head. “An old man would wish he looked this good.”

“Well, “ Yoongi begins despite walking into the living space towards the door, “You must be that good looking old man ‘cause only old guys groan like that when they stand.”

Jin frows as he trots after Yoongi’s huddled, waddling form.

“Like this?” Jin imitates the sound again while he bends to put his shoes on. “Or this?” He does it louder with his whole chest as they head out. “Or like-”

Jin stops abruptly when he sees their neighbors in the hall, startled by Jin’s noises. His ears burn as he bows deeply. “Sorry.”

Yoongi snickers, tugging Jin along with a loose grip on his hand. Jin’s amazed that in all his layers, Yoongi’s fingers are actually cold. He grips tighter to warm them.

“Hey,” Jin pipes up as they get on the street. “An old man would never shout like that either, you know?”

Yoongi side-eyes him and pulls a baseball cap lower over his eyes. He got a haircut last week, and the hat shows off his undercut well. But Jin knows how chaotic his hair is underneath. Still, somehow Yoongi looks cute with his hair fucked up and askew. “Mhm, sure.”

Satisfied, Jin bounces along next to his roommate. It’s a nice day out, Yoongi’s favorite kind. Good weather and few people. They stay quiet, taking note of the small changes in their neighborhood since the last time they left the house. Both introverts, Jin and Yoongi make a dangerously homebound pairing. If it weren’t for Yoongi’s dire need for specialty coffee, they would barely leave the house in the summer.

They head toward the small coffee shop that Yoongi chose as “his” coffee shop. Yoongi had a tendency to do that. He picked something he liked and stuck with it. Like Jin, his eternal roommate. And seeing as Jin and Yoongi had similar preferences in activities and lifestyles, Jin became what Yoongi stuck with very often. Jin would tease him, but really, he appreciated it. He’s comfortable with Yoongi. Content. He frequently finds it hard to balance his affection and sincerity with friends, yet Yoongi has always seemed to understand how Jin works.

“Woah,” Jin says as they enter the shop. It’s almost empty. He checks the large, driftwood clock hanging in the back of the small space. “Yoongi, it’s 3 pm.”

“Correct,” Yoongi answers curtly. They shuffle between the little square tables for two and up to the front.

“Yoongi, I’ve been in bed until 3 pm?”

“Correct.”

“Why didn’t you get me sooner? I haven’t eaten all day!” Jin whines. He throws his arms up in distress and nearly knocks over the little, inconveniently empty case of muffins on the counter.

“I’m not your keeper, old man,” Yoongi retorts and smiles politely to their barista.

“Just for that comment, you have to come and get naengmyeon with me after this,” Jin sniffs.

“Awh,” she giggles behind the counter. “You two are always cute together.”

“Oh,” Jin and Yoongi both say. They give each other an up-down, then focus on their conjoined hands. It’s not the first time they’ve been mislabeled. It’s happened so often that they know exactly what the cashier means by “cute together.”

“Oh,” the cashier repeats, covering her embarrassment. “Are you not dating?”

Both of them open their mouths to respond, but neither say anything. They just stare, blank-faced and slack-jawed, at the barista. There’s not usually a pause here. One of them is quick to correct. The pause gives way to another pause as they both consider the weight of the first.

“I don’t think so,” Jin finally says.

“No,” Yoongi says more firmly yet still too late.

“No?” Jin’s a bit offended at how assured Yoongi sounded.

“Did you think we were?” Yoongi curls his lip in frustration. “You just said you don’t think so.”

“Yeah,” Jin agrees, his ears tinting pink. Sure, he doesn’t. But…

Are we dating? It’s a question that’s made Jin nervous his whole life. He always gets close, closer, closest to people. He feels happy, content to have someone close who knows him and values his presence. But, then, there’s always that “next step” others ask for. Something he never recognizes is there until after he confronts these kinds of situations. Situations like romance. Where someone wants him in a way that implies so much more than what he wants. The awkward moments when someone leans in for a kiss and Jin has to say explain there’s been a miscommunication.

He never thinks they’re dating. He doesn’t feel a need to date, or what people mean by date. He just likes to be close to people he cares for. Jin’s thought about it many times. Why what he wants exudes wanting more to others when he likes what they have.

He thought Yoongi felt the same. Years and years of closeness.Someone who felt good to cuddle when they watched a movie. Someone who he could always talk to. Someone who never made him worried he might want more, that something people want that Jin just doesn’t. And now... “I thought you might think that we might be what we aren’t.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“So you do?”

Yoongi’s lip curls in confusion. “No?”

Yoongi blinks a few times, pout prominent as he becomes confused. “No what?”

They both let out a frustrated sigh. At this point, the barista slinks away to make their drinks, the slightest bit guilty for whatever she just caused. Jin turns to face Yoongi. Yoongi’s slouched against the counter, nonchalant, but his eyes dart between Jin’s trying to read him. Jin asks again, “Are we dating?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says, rubbing at his other arm since he can’t cross them as long as they are holding hands. He finally looks away, and Jin’s heart jumps a bit at the nerves he’s showing. “You tell me.”

“I think…” Jin startles a bit at the sound of the latte machine. He hopes for a reprieve, the noise too loud for them to keep talking, but he doesn’t get that. The quartet of grinding beans and pressurized air quickly ends. Maybe it’s a sign to keep going. He really doesn’t want to do this in a coffee shop, but… “I think sometimes we are.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he doesn’t look back up, just waves Jin off. “Well, tell me when sometimes turns to a definitive.”

“Nah,” Jin says, shaking his head, “I like how things are. Can we just keep doing this?”

“Alright then,” Yoongi nods. He drags them down to the open side of the counter as the barista cups their drinks. “Still want to go to dinner?”

“As a non-date date?” Jin asks, perking up. Whatever doing this is. That is a date usually, but it’s not a date for them.

“Jesus,” Yoongi crinkles his nose. “If that’s a date, we’ve been dating for years.”

“Maybe we have,” Jin says, blinking a few times. Maybe he’s right. If this is what they want to call it, it’s been a while. An apologetic barista slides two coffees across the counter as the two stand in silence for a moment. “That would be ideal. But I thought we weren’t-”

“Do not start this again,” Yoongi cuts him off and turns to find a table.

Jin doesn’t. He sits with Yoongi while he drinks his coffee. They check the weather to search for a time to go camping. They’ve tried to plan a trip three times this summer. Jin loves camping with Yoongi.

Late at night when they wait for the coals to cool in the fire, Yoongi talks the most. He talks about the world more when he’s not really in it. Being deep in the woods can feel like being in a different world. Jin likes taking Yoongi camping to help him gain perspective and for them to be out but with no one around. And on those trips, Jin’s thought about it. How if he had to be stuck with one person forever, it would be Yoongi.

They toss their drinks and head back out. It’s quiet again as Jin follows the GPS on his phone. He tries to focus, but now there’s an idea in the back of his head. Is it this easy? Is this… okay? Is Yoongi going to want more? He’s never wanted more all this time. Jin’s sure he doesn’t want more.

Finally, after they get to the restaurant and order their food, Jin can’t take it anymore. He talks to Yoongi about anything and everything directly. He can talk about this. They are eternal roommates. It’ll be fine. They already addressed it before. Just not as much as he wanted.

Still, he can’t find an in, a moment to clear the air. So he gives up distracting himself, which seems to be what Yoongi’s doing because he won’t put his phone down.

“Why are you on your phone?” Jin asks.

“Googling us,” Yoongi says. He misses his straw a few times while he keeps reading.

Jin blushes. “Look, if anything strange comes up about a GoFundMe from 2012-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Yoongi says, crunching on an ice cube. “It’s called Queerplatonic.”

“That wasn’t the name of my GoFundMe but it’s kind of close.”

“I don’t want to know,” Yoongi says. “This. The thing we do. Are doing. Think we might… nevermind.”

Yoongi huffs out his frustration and flips his phone over on the table. Jin leans over the rickety bar table toward his pouty roommate. At this point, Jin had half a mind that what happened before was a joke for the barista. Now he finds out Yoongi’s been pondering the same thing in his head all afternoon. “Yoongi, you do want to date me, don’t you?”

Yoongi grumbles incoherently as he scratches at his ear. Jin leans back in his seat with a sigh. Ah. “I’m telling you, it’s fine. Everyone wants to date me. And apparently everyone thinks I want to date them. You are not immune.”

Yoongi’s head pops up, irritated as usual by Jin’s ego, and reminds him, “Earlier you literally said you’d be fine dating me.”

“I’m fine non-dating dating you,” Jin says.

“Queerplatonic,” Yoongi clarifies, waving the phone.

“Give me that,” Jin takes the phone from Yoongi. It’s some stylized Wiki page. He glances up at Yoongi, ears a bit pink. “You’re sitting here deciphering us without including me?”

“You’d talk so much I wouldn’t be able to read,” Yoongi shrugs. “Plus, I’ve seen you staring at my nonstop. I know you are thinking about the same shit over there.”

“You say that like you don’t talk all the time,” Jin pauses to nod in thanks to the waiter who sets their beers on the table. Jin drinks a bit more than he should off the bat. “You even talk in your sleep!”

Yoongi petulantly purses his lips. “If you aren’t going to read, give me my phone back.”

Jin leans back with the phone close to his chest and reads through the article. As he goes, he feels tension in his shoulders unwinding.

What he’s reading in his hands, this is him. Moreover, it’s what he and Yoongi have. And some people, apparently, are okay staying this way.

“Yoongi,” Jin breathes, scrolling further. Yoongi doesn’t answer, he just keeps eating and watching Jin’s face nervously. “Is this… I think I’m this.”

“What is this? There’s like, 20 definitions on that site,” Yoongi gripes.

“I don’t know… something on this?” Jin says, scrolling again.

When he hears Yoongi put his beer down, he glances up. Yoongi’s hand is out on the table, palm up, inviting. Jin takes it hesitantly. He’s always liked holding Yoongi’s hand. There’s nothing implied. Nothing extra expected. Just touching someone. He takes it.

“Are you telling me you’ve never considered your sexuality?” Yoongi asks, wiping his mouth. Jin glances around at the other tables chattering and laughing over assortments of comfort food. No one’s really paying them much mind.

“Um, I mean, I guess I thought this wasn’t a sexuality? More of a libido thing. Not for me. I still like sex and stuff, but maybe every other month?” Jin trails off. Honestly, it’s something he’s tried to ignore thinking about.

“Well, I don’t really,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jin asks.

“I did,” Yoongi tries to sound nonchalant, but he hides behind his beer.

“When?” Jin asks, exasperated.

“Do you remember when we were watching that Avengers movie that made no sense?”

“Yoongi, for the millionth time, you can’t just choose to watch Civil War without watching any of the other--”

“That’s not the point,” Yoongi groans over Jin until he stops talking. “We were sitting there. Just chilling. And I said I liked this. And you said you, too. And then you held my hand, and I... leaned my head on your shoulder and shit.”

“That was…” Jin rubs his chin. “That was a confession?”

“I mean,” Yoongi shrugs, but he looks a bit annoyed.

“Oh.”

“I was pretty sure you were aromantic,” Yoongi continues, “or at least something of the sort. I mean, didn’t you google it?”

“I don’t google this stuff, I just deal with it,” Jin scoffs, but he feels his ears burning. He glances at Yoongi’s phone again. Aromanticism (or aromanticity) is an orientation in which someone does not experience romantic attraction. Aromanticism is often confused for asexuality, but asexuality is only a lack of sexual attraction. Not all asexuals are aromantic, nor are all aromantics asexual**. That.

He reads it aloud. “I think that’s me. Like, maybe both. But not all the time? But most of the time.”

“Okay, well, that’s cool,” Yoongi says. Simple. The simpleness of it all almost makes Jin urge to create something more. Not exactly drama. But now he’s finally talking about it, he wants to know a bit more. Especially now that he knows he and Yoongi have been on different pages about who they were to each other for almost a year. And he’s a bit overwhelmed with the fact that what Yoongi wants is to just stay how they are. It’s a bit too surreal to be reality.

Jin chews on his lip. “Do you like me?”

“I don’t like anyone,” Yoongi clarifies. He fumbles with his words a bit, frowning while he gets his thoughts together. He settles with, “But you’re okay.”

“No, I mean,” Jin takes a deep breath in. He laughs nervously. “Isn’t it scary? It feels like… I’m broken. Like I’m supposed to like you more than I do or in some, I don’t know, some other way I can’t fathom?” Jin chuckles nervously. He inhales the salty air mixed with the familiar smell of burning grease. “I didn’t expect to admit something is wrong with me and my dick at a dive restaurant.”

“Nothing is fuckin’ wrong with you,” Yoongi squeezes his hand. Jin glances away at the small compliment, which sounded more like a command. It makes him flustered. “First of all, I’m disappointed you are falling into the ploy of a nuclear family or some shit. The idea of some kind of ideal romantic relationship is commercialized and definitely benefits the economy. The entire dating culture. Don’t even get me started on gifts.”

“I already know how you feel about gifts,” Jin cuts in.

“Exactly, you know me, and I like to think I know you,” Yoongi says, his voice getting quiet at the end. Jin glances up to see something rare. Dusted pink chubby cheeks. He wants to pinch them, fidgeting in his seat.

“Jin, I like being with you, if that’s what you mean,” Yoongi sighs. “I like that we can just be us. I like doing things with you. I don’t want to put a label on it, just like I don’t want to put a label on myself. But the whole romantic thing? Not me. What we have? That fits me. I want to keep doing that. Do you want to keep doing that?”

Jin nods immediately. Yes, yes he does. He loves doing things with Yoongi. “But aren’t we supposed to do more? Get somewhere with it? I don’t know, profess our love?”

Yoongi drops back in his chair with a groan. “Jin, we aren’t supposed to anything. We can do what we want. Tell me what you want. You be you. I’ll be me. We always speak our minds, right? We just be ourselves. Talk to each other. Be, uh, together.”

Yoongi’s words start to drown into the sound of the restaurant, his palm sweaty in Jin’s. Jin smiles softly. He’s nervous. Cute. “Wow, I’m the worst. Here you are having to guide me through all this.”

“You are the worst,” Yoongi agrees. “I can deal with that, though.”

“Okay,” Jin says. He inhales and lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, um. This is what I want. What I like. What we’re, you know, doing. Coffee and eating and living.”

Yoongi nods. “Alright. That wasn’t so bad. Now let’s eat and go stargazing or some other shit. The weather’s too nice to go home yet.”

Jin smiles softly. The food comes to the table and they both separate, picking up their chopsticks, and dig in. It’s easy. Comfortable. Content.

**This information came from this website [the website will be here in a bit. Tumblr is flagging posts with links so i’m waiting a bit before inserting it]

Characters only borrow name and likeness from the members. Do not copy, translate, repost, or reuse this work.

#yoonjin #yoongi x jin #jin x yoongi #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #bangtanxm #boymeetsmxm #yoongi fic #jin fic #seokjin fic #bts fic #bts fluff #thekimlinenet #adored #adored and nothing more #fwlbingo

55 notes · View notes

mysticsparklewings · 3 years

Photo

I keep promising to attempt to return to regular posting and then not really doing it, don't I? XP Well, hopefully this time I mean it. I do want to. And whether you guys can tell or not, I have made some behind-the-scenes strides towards being able to. One of the things pushing me this time though is I'm mad at myself that I neglected to post really anything substantial in March, which is going to mess up how I end up filling out this year's Art Summary in December/January time. That probably sounds like a silly thing to be worried about, but...I don't know. I like having at least one thing to show per month that shows what I did during the year. It's like a super-extended checklist of, "Yeah, I did something that month!" Anyway. I thought maybe posting something like this--A bit more than my usual WIP Wednesday of empty promises--would help hold me more accountable...and now you can also see I'm not kidding when I say I have a backlog of stuff I haven't posted yet. XD Some of my be familiar, some of it I've mentioned once or twice before, some of it is totally new to you guys...and some of it was technically "backlog" even before my unintentional off-again on-again hiatus. But I've blurred the names since some of the titles aren't finalized and a few I'd like to keep as a tiny bit of a surprise. ;) As for the WIP Side, technically most of what you see is also backlog now, but it hasn't been scanned in yet, so I'm withholding "backlog" status until then. Still, you can see I have finally finished the Art Snacks piece I've shown actually WIPs for twice now, a funny little cat drawing I've said nothing about, the PRINTED PROOF FOR THE NAPOWRIMO BOOK! :D, and underneath all that is the planner I set up to...help me keep track while playing catch in Animal Crossing. Yes, part of my absence initially included not playing AC:NH since mid-November, and then more recently was because of me trying to catch up in-game between when I stopped playing and the present day. Now, the NaPo Book is probably the most exciting thing for obvious reasons. And while I don't want to drag out the details too much here (I fully intend on doing a separate post about that), I will say that I now understand A. Why there's usually a whole team of people behind making a book and not just one person; and B. Why we order proof copies before putting the thing up for sale. Because somehow a handful of mistakes made it past me and at least three other people I had look at the book before ordering the proof. XP Something also kind of exciting is I do have a small assortment of supplies that I'm almost done swatching (which yes I have totally been procrastinating on) and will then need testing, which means viable excuses to make yet more art to add to the pile! Of course, then the problem becomes getting myself to sit down and write out all the descriptions for said art. I know technically I don't have to, but I like having that written record of what I did most of the time--because I do revisit my old descriptions sometimes to replicate the process for a new piece--and I personally don't like how some artists make these big elaborate pieces and then have nothing to say about how they made it other than how long it took. To me, there's something humanizing about explaining the process, so to just skip it altogether would just feel wrong to me. Although considering how not wanting to physically put in the effort to do that has held me back, I may experiment with not going into quite as much detail or otherwise trying to streamline my process a bit. (And admittedly some pieces have been in my backlog so long I don't fully remember all the details...which is exactly why I try very hard to get the descriptions done sooner rather than later.) And you know, in some ways it may look or feel like I'm constantly playing catch-up in one way or another, but I've realized that when I really get in the mood to sit down and dedicate time to something, sometimes I actually like having a looming pile staring at me. Part of the reason I hadn't played AC in so long was I was a bit burnout and kinda bored with it, but having so much to do to catch up really reignited that fire in me. The game felt like it had purpose again. While we're on realizations, I probably don't have to tell a lot of you that I'm still in the camp that a lot of my life and my mental health is just better and more enjoyable when social media is not in it. Extra so for Twitter, in particular. Do you know how much nicer it is to only have to check my very small list of "favorites" to see what they're up to, which takes about 5, maybe 10 minutes at a time, and not feel like I owe it to any of them to interact with their tweets? [Because most of them are too big to even notice me anyway, but I digress] That is SO much better than the endless home feed scrolling of hundreds of people, lots of whom I don't even follow they just show up because people I follow, follow them (which I want to turn all the way off so badly but I can't because that's not how Twitter works) and half of which is content I. Could Not. Possibly. Care less about. I like Twitter for news on content creators that can't easily post a small status update to Youtube or whatever. I DO NOT like Twitter for Social Media. AT ALL. Seriously. I opened myself up to posting pictures of my cats over there, and it's STILL not enough to keep me posting and engaging regularly. That's how bad it is. Ahem. My little rant aside, I have thus decided since the Twitter Game™ does more harm than good to me, in general I'm just not going to play it anymore. I'll post my art over there and other stuff when I feel like it, but otherwise, I'm just captial-D Done With It until further notice. It's just better that way. Speaking of games, you may all be surprised to know I've been chipping away at a little video project [about a game] while all this has been going on, too. The NaPo Book comes first, but I'm hoping to have some serious headway on the video done, if not have it finished, by mid-June/July. I've mostly been bouncing around various software trying to find one that can do everything I need on a budget of exactly $0, and the good news is I think I've finally landed on one...which I'll spare you the details of for now. Once the video is closer to being a reality, then we'll delve more into that. So...yeah, that's what's been cooking in the metaphorical Mystic Kitchen. And I tell you guys all of this to 1. Hopefully be the first of that "regular posting" I want to do (still looking at once a week, which I've said probably 500 times before now), and 2. Putting it out there, as I alluded to before, will hopefully be like me signing a contract with myself. "You said you were going to do the thing, so do it." And with that, I suppose I should end this here since this description is surely long enough already, and get back to work on some of that stuff so I'll be more likely to follow through with it, yeah? ;) See you soon, I hope

2 notes · View notes

zombiejoepino · 3 years

Text

The Scavenger CH 6 (Cobb Vanth x OC fic)

Chapter 6: The Secret

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Word count: 7421

Genre: Space Western

Summary: Nathsca tells the truth to the Marshal. Back in Mos Espa, the lone Captain Qod has a conversation with his employer. A pale slick is missing in the dunes.

A/N: I apologize for the missing chapter of the past week. A lot was going on so I bring you this really long chapter

FULL CHAPTER ALSO ON: wattpad.com/998747414-the-scavenger-chapter-6-the-secret

...

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Word count: 7421

Genre: Space Western

Summary: Nathsca tells the truth to the Marshal. Back in Mos Espa, the lone Captain Qod has a conversation with his employer. A pale slick is missing in the dunes.

A/N: I apologize for the missing chapter of the past week. A lot was going on so I bring you this really long chapter

...

The twins were setting down across the dune sea. The locals were busy trying to put back together with the whole town. Some repaired the fallen vaporizers, others were fixing the banthas' pen and the rest check whatever else was broke.

It's been 12 days since the dragon made its last appearance across Mos Pelgo. The Marshal kept note of how long would take before the leviathan's next visit. The last time was 18 days but, he arrived sooner than he expected. He needed to follow that thing and study it much as he could.

A lot was going on in his mind but, his attention was somewhere else.

Right after leaving the young scavenger in town, Cobb flew back looking for the pale slick but, he was gone already. He searched around the area before the night fell on the dunes. Wherever he was, there was no chance he would survive the night creatures or the sand people.

Before taking off back to town, Cobb step over a small device, he picked it up and dusted it off. It was a bounty puck. He gave it a long stare before making up his mind about checking what was in that.

The blueish hologram displayed the scavenger's face, full name, and how much they were offering for her head. He didn't mind the price, what got his full attention was the charges; piracy, murder attempt, theft.

Cobb switched down the puck and kept it in his pockets. He has been pushing that serious talk with her since she arrived in town. Something always got in the middle before he could say a thing. Also, the fact that he grew a soft spot for her had something to do with it. He was not mad at the girl, but he couldn't help her at all if she was keeping secrets from him.

The Marshal was unsure how many others would come to attack her or the town. Cobb was getting overworked with this and, he was not fully recovered from the first fight. The bruises from the recent one were swelling.

The night fell on the dunes and, the Marshal finally took off.

Back at his place.

Nath was curled in bed trying to stay calm and thinking what to do. She had all her hopes on the Marshal finding Plog. That scoundrel was the only one left that knew where she was. She needed to kill him and leave before Qod finds this place.

She is been playing around these past days, trying to be part of the community but, her mind kept reminding her of the facts; one of the most dangerous men on Tatooine would destroy the whole town, make her watch, and then kill her just to make a point.

Her face sank on the pillow and took a deep breath.

The door slid up and she jumped off from bed. He was back, she thought and rushed out of the room.

The Marshal placed the helmet on the table and took two glasses from the pantry, along with a bottle of spotchka. He poured down the drinks and then turned to face her.

He chuckled softly, looking at her wearing his vermilion long sleeve shirt. Nights were cold in the dunes, so it was normal that she looked for anything to cover up.

Nath felt his eyes scanning her and then she wrapped her arms around herself. "My tunic was dirty, I hope you don't mind." She muttered.

The Marshall shook his head and handed her a drink. Nath examined the blueish liquid and then gave him a puzzled look.

"Might help you to calm down. You were a bit jumpy." He sipped his glass.

The girl chugged it down, shut her eyes, and made a face.

"That's terrible." She coughed.

"You'll get used to it." He chuckled.

Nath shook her head and coughed a little more. "No, I don't think I will."

Cobb left the glass on the table and stripped off the armor. The scavenger watched him the whole time, moving around the house. She scanned the small house. It looked like he was just there to sleep and eat. He didn't have many things around, just the basics; bowls, plates, a bin with dirty clothes, an old broken blaster.

Now, she was studying the Marshal while they were silent. He looked tired but still, there was something about him that she liked, just, couldn't place exactly what it was. The liquor was taking effect. She suddenly felt warm, her cheeks turned a little red and her body felt lazy. It was not her first time drinking alcohol, but sure her first time drinking something that strong. Nath sank her body on the chair and sighed trying to put her thoughts together.

Cobb was busy cleaning up the remains of blood on his face. This trawler was way worst than the one he fought a few days ago. He could feel the bruise on his lower lip getting bigger and now he couldn't tell the difference between the new wounds and the old ones. The only idea that jumped in his head was to drown in spotchka to ease the pain and staying in bed for 2 days.

Nath kept watching him but felt uncomfortable about the silence. She needed to say something to break the ice and the first words finally came out from him.

"I couldn't find the guy. He was gone already." He said.

The redhead felt her heart sank with his words.

"If you ask me, I don't think he would survive in the dunes. He had no speeder, I found the crashed items but nothing else."

Nath took a deep breath trying to stay calm and looked down at her empty glass.

"Thank you and I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked and looked back at her.

She shifted on the chair and rested both arms over the table. Her gaze met with his while she kept a serious expression.

"Thanks for everything and sorry for being rude to you and for bringing all my problems."

The Marshal dropped the dirty cloth and moved towards her.

He picked his drink and took a bigger sip. His thumb cleaned the small drop from his lip. Nath was staring at him longer than she usually does. His eyes met her icy gaze and smiled at her.

"It's ok." He said.

"No, you were right. I should have to tell you about it."

"About that?" He pointed to the canister that was at the top of the pantry.

Her attention moved to the silver container and Nath nodded. She played with the glass on her hand, her feet drummed on the floor before making a choice. The girl rushed to take the canister and push it towards him.

Cobb rose his brow and took the pierced container.

"I was in a crew named the Shadows. We were just a bunch of criminals taking all kinds of jobs like stealing cargo from New Republic ships, trade what we could in the black market." She spoke. "I was their mechanic."

"You were a pirate."

"Kinda. I never s-." She paused. Of course, she hurt others before but not intentionally. She didn't want to think about that. The water, the screams. Nath shook the memory from her head and kept going "Qod is a dangerous man, ruthless, he won't stop until he gets what he wants," Nath looked down trying to keep going with the story.

"Our last job was a mess. We were taking cargo from a New Republic ship that was operated fully by droids. We would hack the system, take the cargo, and blow up the whole thing. But the intel was wrong. We lost two guys cause someone sold us. Qod got paranoid about everyone and weird things started to happen. Folks from the crew found dead, in prison or missing." She paused. "He left a few of us around.

Then, he met with some slave traders. Leftovers of what the Hutts were. They were looking for slaves... female humanoid slaves." She paused and pointed to the silver canister. "That was a payment for a few of them."

Cobb gave her a look before examining the inside of the canister. A small blueish glow came from the rare gems. He saw them before on the empire days when he worked on the mines with other slaves.

"I dunno why he wants them but, he didn't hesitate to let go of the women he knew." She looked away and frowned. "He was not aware of me being there. So, I heard everything. I tried not to panic and played along. Later that day, Qod asked me to join him in his chambers, sweet talk to me but, I put something in his drink. He passed out and, I escaped taking the gems with me." She twirled the glass on the table.

"When I first met him, he claimed me as his woman and kept me around just for his entertainment. For a moment, I thought he cared about me, now, I realized it was all..." She looked down at the empty glass.

The Marshal kept a serious face during her story. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins the more she kept talking about that man. He felt no sympathy for anyone related to slave traders or worst, the Empire.

"All those hunters were sent by Plog, a sneaky bastard that gives Qod all kinds of info. He keeps him around cause he is useful." She sighed and finally looked up to him.

"It's a matter of days before they find this place and me. And I don't want to put your folk in danger. I should go."

Cobb took another sip of his drink and looked back with those piercing eyes. Maybe her being there was dangerous for his community but he didn't want her to end as a slave or worst, dead. The Marshal set down the glass and lock his eyes with hers.

"Listen, the moment you set a foot in Mos Pelgo, you became my responsibility. I know the kind of men you are dealing with and ain't welcome. If they try to come here and push you around, I will have a conversation with them." He patted the blaster on his holster.

"You don't have to do that, Marshal. You don't know these people."

"I know them. Every bully I've ever met sends a bunch of heavies to do the dirty work. I guess that he will come to talk. Whoever paid him has more power and is not happy with him, so, he is gonna try to get those gems back."

"He will come and won't be alone, Marshal. He looks for the worst, willing to take down the entire town."

"Let me handle it." He smiled at her. "Trust me."

Nath was shaking and having no idea what to do. All the pain in her body, the stress, and all she wanted were to scream out loud. She thought about jumping on him, pulled him by the crimson scarf, and kiss him deeply to let go of all the steam in her body and feel something else rather than this frustration but, she didn't move.

What if he pushed her away? That would be embarrassing for her.

"Thank you, Marshal." She said.

Cobb gave her a light nod and reached out for her hand. Her heartbeat was rushing feeling his warm hand and looked into his eyes.

"It's ok, princess. I promised to look after you." He gave her a warm smile.

Nath blushed brightly, examining every feature in his face thinking about moving closer and give it a try, but her hand reached out the cloth to clean a small bloodstain across his jawline. He couldn't help himself and smirk at her. Those looks again, he thought.

The redhead stopped for a moment.

What was she thinking? She said to herself.

"Thanks for pampering to me." He teased. "I can get used to it."

She was feeling warmer than before but tried to keep herself cool and not act nervous with him.

"I hope you are feeling better cause I want the bed." She glared at him. "I refuse to sleep in that rug again."

"I told you, but you didn't listen."

"Well, you needed the bed." She said.

"And I still do." He pointed.

Nath rolled her eyes and moved towards him to check the wound on his side. He noticed the dirty bandage and made a face. Her eyes went up to meet with his and just at that moment, she realized she was that close. Cobb smirked back at her, he knew that look.

"Then, we have a problem." He said.

Nath frowned and, her cheeks were bright red. Cobb couldn't stop thinking how cute she looked with her flushed cheeks and angry face. Those freckles stand out even more.

"Wanna flip a coin?" She asked. "Cause there's no version of this that ends up with us sharing your bed."

"You know I was joking. Interestingly, your mind went there."

Damn alcohol. Damn pearly smile. Brush those ideas off, Nathsca, clean that wound, and just go, she thought.

...

Mos Espa

The smoky atmosphere surrounded the large crowded joint. Groups or folks of all kinds gathered around but none of them with a friendly face. Some were around for a drink, looking for a job, or just gambling.

Another blaster roared followed by a thud. The crowd remained quiet for a moment and continue with the atmosphere. The annoyed owner just yelled to his droid to take out the dead body and drop it somewhere out of town, just like the guy from 2 days ago.

Between the smoky and darker areas, in the lone booth, the man with the x-shaped scar was sitting by himself enjoying a drink. Once his glass was set down on the table, a droid rushed to take it away and bring him a new one.

His dark and pale eyes were busy examining a blueish hologram that displayed the tiny cargo ship from the New Republic. He studied the areas of interest, looking for any weak spots on the ventilation area, how many escape pods were working, the easier way to reach the cockpit, and all those kinds of details he wanted to keep in mind before a heist.

Qod wrote down all this in his journal, even draw the important parts of the map but the hologram faded when a large red palm was placed over the device. The one-horned Devaronian, Nurh Drart, flashes his yellowish smirk at him. Qod turned around to look at him but kept the same serious face.

Then, his attention moved to the Twilek, Jub'tadi, that scoot into the booth, sitting in front of him. The blue one stretched a little, placed his blaster on the table, and kept a mocking smile before he addressed to the Captain.

"There are rumors about your crew, Qod." Jub spoke and motioned his hand to a young Rodian pirate to sit with them. The green one had bruises across his face and looked up the Captain. He was about to mutter something but he felt the dark and pale glare upon him.

"We respect your crew and you, but these rumors...Our boss is not happy with them. It feels like you are losing control or maybe getting too slow for this."

Nurh made a grunt and spoke in huttesse. "Just get to the point, Jub. All imperials are the same, arrogant and weak. Tell him that."

The captain rose his brow and The blue one just threw a glare at Nurh. "I'm handling this." He replied in the same tongue and returned to Qod, speaking normally.

"As I was saying, my employer is not happy with the delay. He is aware that one asset is meaningless to you but he said that this missing asset was the finest on the lot, or at least the youngest, and that poke his curiosity.

Our first agreement was for 10 assets, not 9 and my boss is very specific with numbers." He explained and paused for a moment.

"So, just as a sign of respect for our long term business relationship, my boss is letting you know that we are calling the Guild and use your payment for that hunter that finds the asset first."

The red one rolled his eyes and spat. "Even a Jawa would be able to find it. I'm telling you, this old man is a joke."

Qod kept the attention on Jub and nodded lightly after he closed his journal. He cleared his throat and kept looking at the blue one.

"May I ask why you narrowed down to that decision?" He spoke with a deep and calm voice but his eyes could tell another story.

"Our boss is wondering if you are either keeping her for yourself or you lost her," Jub said.

Both men kept looking at each other in silence until the waiter droid approached the table to bring the captain his drink but the red one grabbed it. He examined the green smoky liquid, took a large sip, made a face, and spit it back on the glass. He slid it towards Qod and chuckled.

Qod's eyes finally moved towards the glass. The green smoky drink was now almost brownish, with the slime twirling around. Qod kept his attention on it.

"Your man here says she is been missing for two days," Jub said.

The Rodian kept his gaze down as he felt the Captain studying him. He tried to rush out from the booth but the Twilek kept him right next to him. He was shaking.

"He said that someone set you up in the last job. That you were sloppy." Nurh grunted and moved closer to the Captain, his head just a few inches from Qod's shoulder.

Jub gave him a look but, he chose to ignore it. The horned one kept pushing. "You are old, a relic of the fallen Empire. A shadow of what you were back in those days. To me, sounds like made-up stories." He spat in huttese and then laughed.

With a swift move, Qod pulled Nurh's hem and smashed his face right into the glass and table, making the shattered glass stick into his face. He growled in pain and backed off holding his face and feeling the blood running down his hands.

The Rodian rolled off the booth and watched Jub trying to reach the blaster but, the Captain was faster. He brutally stabbed his hand onto the table, making Jub scream.

Everyone in the joint watched this in awe and started to clear the space.

The Captain took the blaster from the surface and stood up. His face kept the same serious expression but, in his eyes, there was something peculiar about them.

The large devaronian was swinging a knife in the Captain's direction, who didn't hesitate to pull the trigger and make a hole through the skull. Jub looked at him in shock trying to pull the knife off.

"Y-you can't do this. We... our deal."

"I appreciate your candor. It's refreshing, and let me understand that you are not smart enough. You see, we give you Hutts fifteen percent of our profit in exchange for weapons that you took from dead troopers, not a whole squadron as you claim but I choose to believe your story and all your lies cause you are such clichés.

You making a deal with The Guild? Last time I remember they are not happy about how your people handled the situation with his missing man and the Sarlacc pit" He gripped the blade's handle, twisted it, and made the Twilek scream even more. Qod smacked him and pointed at him to keep looking at him.

"What I will not tolerate is being pushed around by two amateurs. Anyway, the terms in our agreement remain almost the same. Your boss takes this dead town that I have no interest in, you will get now five percent and I believe you will be able to explain why. If your boss wants to change our terms, tell him to meet me. As for the asset, I'm handing it in personally from now on. Once I bring her and the gems back, I want my weapons." He pulled out the blade and gave Jub a look.

"Next time choose your partner wisely." Qod finished and made his way out of the joint right before he turned around to shoot the Rodian hiding behind the counter. Everyone watched in silence. It took a while before the music resumed.

...

Mos Pelgo

Early morning.

The sky was painted with purple and small tints of orange. The twins were still hiding behind the dune sea. Creatures crawled out to stretch out and keep going on their way looking for food or new shelter.

The dusty town was still sleeping, the sand brushed away any trace from the dragon or their unwanted visitors. An old farmer was awake to feed the mooing banthas that shook their large bodies before starting the day.

Not so far from there, a blaster roared three times, and then it was followed by the sound of shattered glass.

Cobb Vanth stood tall holding the smoky barrel and kept it back on the holster. His hazel eyes focused on the holes around the wood, three to be exact before the fourth one broke the glass. He was not pleased with the result.

His fingers ran over the new bandage, right where the belly wound was, and returned his gaze to the next empty bottle. He shifted the side of the holster to his left and prepare his hand. He stretched his fingers, took a deep breath while not taking his eyes from the object.

The Marshal waited and then, he cross-pulled the blaster and fired into nothing when he flinched and felt the sting on his belly. He took a deep breath and placed his hand over his side.

He shook his head and focused on the next bottle.

The twins were coming out from the dunes. The rays peek through the window and hit her right in the face. Nath rolled in bed and pulled the sheets over her head but suddenly she kicked them away and looked around. Empty, she thought. She patted herself to check if she was dressed until reality slapped her.

Her head was killing her, her eyes shut for a moment thinking about that blueish liquor. The last time I drink that, she thought while holding her head. Her eyes opened for a moment to scan the whole room. It stopped right on the clothes pile; a blood-stained shirt and her trousers.

She huffed in frustration and covered her face. Nath was wondering what happened last night, trying to place her thoughts together.

She spoke with the Marshal, they drank a few glasses, then she checked his wound and after that, they went to bed together. She took a deep breath and repeated all the actions over and over until it finally clicked.

They went together but she tucked into the bed. The Marshal slept over the sheets and on his side, nothing else. He probably left earlier and then, her thoughts were interrupted by the blaster roar. She jumped off the bed and peeked through the window.

"Dank farrik." She heard the male voice in the distance and looked for the tall figure.

She saw the Marshal firing right to an empty bottle but he hit it at the second shoot. She noticed when he placed the hand on his side.

"That man..." Nath huffed and rushed her way out of the house.

Cobb focused on his shooting that he didn't notice when the redhead came out and slapped his arm.

"Hey!" She yelled.

He jumped and fired the blaster by mistake, hitting a vaporizer, making a small hole to let out the steam. A red light started to blink rapidly.

"Dank farrik." He frowned looking at the vaporizer. He would need to fix that later.

"You are not supposed to do that, yet, Marshal. You need to rest." She frowned back.

He rolled his eyes and finally met her gaze. "Listen, princess, I-"

His words stopped and his expression changed into a mocking smirk. He chuckled while his eyes scanned her. Nath gave him a puzzled look and blinked many times wondering what he had on mind.

"What's so funny?" She puffed her cheeks.

Cobb folded his arms and chuckled again. His finger pointed down at her. Nath lowered her gaze and blushed brightly looking at her bare legs, bare thighs. She huffed in anger, slapped his arm harder, and ran back into the house.

The Marshal laughed hard and then groaned feeling the sting on his belly. Ok, he had that one coming, he thought.

...

In the dunes.

The heavy steps made their way through the dunes, leaving a sand trail right behind them. He was breathing heavily, his arms hanging from his body, his lips were chapped and dry. Plog's skin was crimson, his face was covered with bruises and a large black eye across the left eye.

The slick squinted his eyes trying to spot any town or anything that called out civilization but there was only dust. Wherever he was, he was hoping not to fall into a Sarlacc pit by mistake or worst, be found by sand people or getting eaten by the dragon.

After the dragon made its way near Mos Pelgo, the valley that was guarded by the Tusken Raiders was empty. Even those brutal warriors were afraid of the mighty creature. Plog didn't spot any of them and for his luck, they didn't spot him too.

What kept him going to walk across the dune sea was that he needed to meet with the Captain and settle everything down. He wanted to kill that fake mando and take that brat where she belonged.

Plog was still in pain because of them; he could still feel his bare knuckles across his face or the strong kick right into his crotch. It was humiliating. That slave and brat needed to pay.

He was a man with status, with power, and everything he wanted. His blood was boiling just thinking about those two trying to take that away from him and making him look bad with the Captain.

But those days of Wan Plog, the sneaky informer of the Shadow seemed distant. He was crawling in the sand, probably waiting to die at some point until he felt the tremor on the ground.

"Is that the dragon?" He panicked and got up to take off but his feet stopped when his blurry vision noticed the large Sandcrawler stopping a few miles from him, down in the dune near an old crashed TIE

He smiled faintly. He never felt such delight at meeting with the Jawas.

The Sandcrawler lowered its gates and the group of small hooded figures came out. They rushed around the old ship, taking whatever pieces of rusted metal that worked for them.

Plog rushed his heavy feet and yelled at them, waving his arms trying to get their attention.

The Jawas couldn't pick on his bad accent and they whine at him, saying gibberish and keeping the riffles up. Plog stopped and kept his arms in the air.

"Hey, easy! I just need your help. I'll pay you handsomely if you drop me near Mos Espa." He smiled.

The Jawas looked at each other for a moment. They examined the ragged man with burnt skin. Some of the giggled, others moved over to pick on his pockets but they groaned in disappointment.

"It looks like a Sarlacc chewed him and spit his pale meat" They mumbled their gibberish to each other and laughed watching the beat-up Plog.

The Jawas made up their minds and returned their attention to the rusted metal, picking on useful parts, carrying them to the crawler. Plog tried to speak to any of the hooded figures but they refused to talk.

"I can give you an imperial speeder. A new one." He tried to talk to them.

A Jawa stopped and studied him for a moment. He gasped and rushed to the group. The Jawas started to talk to each other, they argue for a while, looking back at Plog from time to time, and nodded in agreement. The smaller Jawa showed them a bag with credits and they looked back at Plog.

Plog rose his brow at them when they moved towards him and kept full attention on him.

"We will help you, skinny one. But you give us the imperial ship. Ship, not speeder." They spoke.

Plog was not a master at speaking with Jawas but he was certain that he understood the word ship or speeder. He smiled at them and shook their little hands.

...

Back in Mos Pelgo.

Nath spent all morning fixing the vaporizer that Cobb messed up. She replaced the pierced container and patched the steam tubes. They would need to change it eventually but so far it would work for a while. Unlike bigger cities, Mos Pelgo had a few vaporizers to keep the area fresh. Even though it was a small town, three vaporizers were not enough.

She cleaned the sweat from her forehead and picked her tools to go back inside. She crossed her way with Cobb, who was fully armored and she gave him a murderous glare. Nath was still angry about the little morning accident and worst, he gave her that smirk again.

"We are having a meeting in the cantina. You should come and don't forget your trousers, princess." He winked and pass next to her, heading towards Weequay's joint.

The redhead thought about throwing the wrench at him but she dropped the tools by the door and followed him.

...

In the cantina.

The folks were gathered around the joint, sharing tables, some having a drink or anything to eat. Once they saw the Marshal and the redhead walked in there was a small silence.

Cobb was not exactly their leader, but he tried to look for their interests and safety. This whole subject with the trawlers and Nathsca was something he needed to let the others know.

The young woman took a spot behind the counter and leaving all the attention for Cobb.

"Thanks, everyone for coming. I'm sure you are wondering about the strangers that keep coming to our town. Before we keep talking, I wanna let everyone know that Nathsca here is now one of us. She is been fixing speeders and the vaporizers for us, also she saved Triggar's daughter from the sand snake and I think she deserves a place in our community."

The locals spoke between them but they nodded in agreement while listening to Cobb. Nath tried not to make eye contact with anyone but she smiled back at Kyranj, Irella's mom.

"So, now that we all agree she is one of us, you should all know what happened yesterday." Cobb continued. "Those two strangers were looking for Miss Roznev cause like many of us, she was sold as a slave." He paused. "And in this town, we can't stand that."

The locals groaned when he mentioned the word slave and then some yeahs were heard on the back.

"These slave traders made a deal with pirates, lowlives, ex-imperials, and hired guns. We are not sure but there's a small chance they might come to our town looking for Nath and if they please they will come after us too."

"If she is bringing problems she should go." A man in the background spoke. Some locals agreed but others started to argue to defend the young woman. Cobb observed them for a while and cleared his throat to speak more.

"I made a promise to this town, to protect it. But I also made that promise to Miss Roznev. I know most of you didn't trust her a few days ago and I understand that, but Nathsca is a good woman. I think she deserves to be free just like us. We all know what it's like having that life and I'm willing to fight for her freedom." He finally looked back at the redhead.

Nath kept her gaze down for a moment before looking back at Cobb. She shook her head and mouthed. "You don't have to do this."

"So, I would like to put together a team to make shifts and guard the area, making sure we get ready if the strangers come here. We fought the Mining Collective, we fought the Red key raiders. To be honest, I don't mind fighting a bunch of pirates too. So, what do you say?"

The locals remained silent for a long moment before making up their minds. Nath gave Cobb a look and sighed.

"Seriously, you don't have to do this. No one has to" She whispered to him. Cobb signed her to wait. He had faith in the locals, eventually, some of them would do the right thing.

After that long silence, some stood up and were about to exit the joint. At that moment, Kyranj and Triggar stood up.

"We would like to help Nathsca, Marshal." Kyranj smiled and then looked around at others. The old Weequay stood up too and gave the Marshal a nod. Eventually, a small group formed to assist them. The rest just remained silent but no one dared to leave the joint.

Everyone heard the Marshal instructions. They would keep a watch around the city and the canyon. They needed to set up small traps, have all weapons working, and other details.

Nath found herself watching Cobb the whole time. Even though he was putting the plan together, he heard everyone's opinion to improve the strategy and make a better move. Nath noticed that every time he was thinking about something he would frown for a moment and run his hand through his hair. She couldn't help herself and smile.

Later.

The young redhead was checking the same vaporizer that kept making a strange sound. She opened up the container and took out the small canister. She thought about going out of town and bury it away, not minding if she lost it, but she decided to hide it just in case they might need them.

She knew the big cities, there was always someone willing to buy gems. Her ideas brushed from her head when she heard footsteps approaching her. She quickly placed the container where it belonged and stuffed the canister inside the vaporizer.

Cobb was placing a new set of the empty bottle to fire at them. He pulled two times to fire, hitting the bottle but once he tried the cross pulled he grunted in pain. Nath shook her head looking at him.

"You should stop doing that, tough guy. You need to rest." She yelled at him and cleaned the sweat from her forehead.

Cobb made a face and then flashed his charming smile at her. "Resting is not part of my day."

"I know you are the keeper of this place but you are not immortal, Marshal, just, stubborn."

"Just like you, princess. Fiery, stubborn, and pretty. Maybe not that pretty but you get the point." he winked at her.

Nath rolled her eyes and tried to hide that little smile across her face. He chuckled and lowered the blaster.

"Is that a smile?"

"What? Am I not allowed to do that?"

"You are, I guess you should do it more often." He tried the cross pull once more and fired but he missed again.

"Maybe I will smile more if you stop doing that." She rose a brow.

Cobb looked back at her, rolled the blaster on his hand, and kept it back on the holster.

"Show off." She moved towards him, cross pulled the blaster from his holster, and hit the missing bottle. She rolled the blaster on her hand and gave it back to him

The Marshal smirked at her and chuckled. "And I thought I was the show-off. I guess I'm done for the moment"

She frowned and he laughed, shaking his head.

"For the day, princess. Geez, you are quite moody."

"I'm not but you make me angry" she folded her arms.

"Why? For not listening to you? cause the feeling is mutual."

She had no idea what to say next and bit her lower lip. Her eyes were locked on his hazel ones, studying that peculiar shade between green and brown, her gaze lower to his lips and pearly smile.

"Maybe." She muttered.

The Marshal smirked and pulled her closer. The redhead gasped and blinked many times feeling his arm around her.

"What are you doing?"

He remained silent for a moment but keeping an intense stare upon her. His hazel ones studied her reaction just looking at anything that could give away anything. Nath locked her eyes on him and felt her cheeks getting warmer.

"I'm asking you the same, cause whatever this is, I'm getting tired of not figuring it out." He spoke. "It's hard to understand. One day you look after me, the next one you wanna kill me. I noticed the way you look at me and I'm sure you are aware of how I look at you. My point is that we are both pretty old to be playing around."

Nath was speechless and her heart was rushing.

"What's your deal with me, princess?" He asked. After a few days, he finally managed to pull out those words that kept jumping in his head since day one. What was the mystery about Nathsca that just kept him on edge? Yeah, she might be way younger than him but there was something about her that he just kept looking away rather than face the facts until now.

Nath felt the space between them getting smaller each second, she could feel his chest pressed against her, both palms against it, her eyes getting lost on his gaze, thinking about his lips until she poked him in the ribs and made him groan in pain.

"You are my deal. You need to rest before trying to do that. I know you wanna look tough but you deserve to rest as well, Cobb." She was blushing brightly. Her mind kept jumping around the idea of jumping into his arms and kiss him deeply.

Cobb gave her a look and shook his head. He would normally just back off and go to avoid an even more awkward situation but it seems she didn't remember anything from last night when she told him about all those times she gets funny ideas about him but that she is afraid that he might push her.

Any other man would take advantage of a drunk girl and just have his way with her not minding if she would remember or not, but not the Marshal, he wanted to make sure she meant it and just go as far as she would allow him.

"Fine, but you can't skip this conversation forever, you know." He lifted her chin with his thumb and placed a kiss over her forehead before leaving.

She took a deep breath when he finally let her go. Her heartbeat was rushing and her legs were shaking. Whatever effect he had on her, it was working and she needed to keep fighting against it. She didn't want to get attached again and get hurt or worst, lose him.

"Not again." She thought to herself and sighed.

...

Mos Espa. The Shadows shop.

The curious Sullustan was finishing up the cruiser, checking the energy levels, ready to take off at any moment. He cleaned the oil from his hands and looked back at the small group keeping an eye on him.

He was not exactly the best mechanic in town, but he knew how to put together anything, especially if the Shadows asked him to. The last mechanic that refused to work with them had a gruesome ending. His head exhibited right outside his house just to make a point. No Empire, no Hutts yet but this small pirate group knew how to pull out a show.

A tall zabrak, walked into the shop to check the cruisers and gave the mechanic a light nod. "He is here."

The mechanic just rushed to clean the rest from his hands and stood tall when Captain Qod made his entrance followed by the masked Chiss and another gunslinger.

The Captain walked between the cruisers, checking each one of them, writing down something in his journal. The sullustan was nervous just following him with his gaze.

"Not bad. You got these part from?" The Captain spoke.

The Sullustan just muttered. "Pod racing mostly. Those parts are used just once but with the proper engine, you can build a decent cruiser. I picked the best sets for your team, Captain." He smiled nervously.

"So, used parts of broke pods are you saying?" He kept the dark tone. The Sullustan gulped and regretted giving away those details. He didn't say a word. Qod moved towards him and patted his shoulder.

"I would normally disapprove that but since this dumpster planet had nothing else to offer, I will take them. Thank you for your service." He dropped on the Sullustan's hand a bag with credits. The nervous mechanic just nodded and quickly rushed to the exit.

Once the shop was clear, Qod turned around to look back at his team. "Any word from Plog?"

Everyone remained silent and the gunslinger shook his head. Qod took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. "Any idea of his last location?" The deep voice asked.

Qod walked around the shop and huffed, trying to stay calm.

He heard a small beep coming from his pocket and took out the device. A small and blueish hologram displayed Plog's tiny figure, waving at him.

"Sir, I found her." The distorted voiced spoke.

"And the gems?" Qod asked.

"I didn't see them but I'm sure she still has them. I followed her to a place called Mos Pelgo, an old mining town. Farmers and former slaves living there. It's guarded by a man in Mandalorian armor."

"A Mandalorian?"

"Not exactly, sir. He wears it but he is not Mandalorian. He is keeping the girl under his care."

"So, that explains your wounds and poor state, my friend." Qod nodded.

"Yeah, it was hard. I had to ask Jawas to bring me." He chuckled nervously.

"What did they want in return?"

"I thought they said speeder, but... they meant a ship."

Qod kept a serious expression looking down the hologram. "Ship? What kind?"

Plog scratched his head and mumbled nonsense.

Qod stepped out of the shop and saw his ship torn apart. All the important pieces were missing. He huffed.

"Where are you, Plog?" He spoke but before he got a proper answer he heard his voice behind the ship.

Plog was smiling nervously at him with his hands up. "I'm sure I can get you a better ship, sir. T-this one had failures and it's not like you cared right?"

Qod studied his expression for a moment and nodded. "Very well. Where's this Mos Pelgo?"

"West, passing the Valley of Wind and a bit further into West. I can take you there, sir. I remember the-" the blaster roar and made a smoky hole through Plog's head. His body dropped down and kept his eyes open.

Qod looked down at him and then back to his team.

"We leave now. Once we get the girl, we take down the whole town. Leave the Mandalorian to me." He frowned.

#cobb vanth #cobb Vanth x oc #cobb vanth fanfiction #cobb vanth supremacy #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

Text

The Trail Begins || Ariana, Matty, & Simon

TIMING: After this (x) and this (x) PARTIES: @likeamattoutofhell @inconvenientsimonstrocity @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Simon find Ariana at Winn’s house when he goes to check up on him. They follow his trail to the cemetery to find a drunken Matty.

Normally, Simon didn’t think too much whenever someone he was acquainted with suddenly deactivated their social media - it happened all the time; people got bored, wanted to start with a clean slate, this that or the other, but something about this one seemed… fishy to Simon as he drove out to Winn’s house. They had been talking recently and the tone through the conversation along with what he’d been able to piece together regarding Winn’s displayed personality suggested that he wasn’t the type to do this unless something bad happened. He didn’t know, maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he was already too attached to Winn though they met once and Winn didn’t leave the best impression on loyalty to him. He shook his head and pulled into the driveway where he noted that Winn’s car - or at least the one he thought was Winn’s - was missing. He turned towards the house and his olfactory senses were filled with Winn’s scent that he managed to recognise. Tilting his head slightly and with a swipe at his nose… already, he knocked on the door loudly. “Winn?” He called, his voice coming across clearly but not loudly.

After Blanche left, Ariana went into Winn’s house to discover the front door was totally unlocked and the place looked like it had been absolutely ransacked. Yeah, maybe fighting with Blanche in wolf form was a dumbass decision, but it wasn’t enough to warrant running off like this. She frowned, seeing that even Denny was gone. She was looking under a floorboard that had been pulled up when she could vaguely hear the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice calling. She jumped up and ran to the door. “Simon, is that you,” she asked before swinging the door open anyway. She knew the answer. With a puzzled look, she said, “Wait, what are you doing here? Okay, I guess you could be asking me the same thing, huh. Winn’s not here. Was going to try and sniff out where he went if you’d like to come along.”

To his… mild surprise, it wasn’t Winn that answered the door but Ariana and Simon glanced down at her, the look on his face suggesting as such. “Winn’s not here?” He asked, realising as they spoke that he was glad that he didn’t text Ariana - last time he wanted to investigate, he effectively got told that it was none of his business and that riled up something inside of him so he decided this time that he was just going to take action, unusual as that felt. BUT she was here and so was he. He peered over her at the interior of the house, already seeing the general disarray of it. “What happened? Where is he--” She just said he wasn’t here and that she was going to try to find him. Speaking of sniffing, he did and rubbed his nose again. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I’ll come,” He offered. At least he was being invited this time. “Got any leads?”

Even though Ariana didn’t believe there was any immediate danger, she still felt better having Simon come along with her. This whole thing left her head reeling and Simon was good at calming her down. She was pretty pissed at Winn for this stupid idea to begin with and every part of her wanted to give him a good smack for being an idiot. Simon could probably neutralize that side of her. He was pretty good about that. Stepping aside so he could come in, Ariana began to explain, “Well, he had the genius idea of sparring with our human friend… who is like, my size, as a fucking wolf. She was trying to get him to back down, but he didn’t, so she yeeted him into a tree and he lost control. And has now apparently run off because clearly that’s a great idea.” She shrugged at the mention of leads as she continued looking around the house, “My main instinct was to follow my nose.”

Simon listened intently as she ran the situation by him, feeling his brow furrow at the mention of getting into a spar with someone as small as Ariana. Arranged fights were fine, as a concept - few things trained better than a controlled fight such as wrestling or swordplay - but he couldn’t help but wonder what the goal was when someone who was Winn’s size as a human and possibly even bigger as a wolf got into a spar with a girl that size. He assumed SHE wasn’t a wolf, so the question of ‘why’ burned into him. The interior of the house was a mess, almost as though it had been looted, he observed as he walked around methodically and felt his old forensic mind taking the reins for just a few minutes, at least. What was he hiding under the floorboards that this scenario would prompt him to tear up? Something precious, he assumed, but no less secret. He had a feeling that whatever happened between Ariana’s friend and Winn had triggered some part of him into believing that here wasn’t good for him anymore - him or others. It happened often with children who ran away from home - sometimes rebelling, but almost always as a means to escape, to feel in control.

“Well, we know why he isn’t getting messages anymore,” Simon crouched on the ground and picked up the ruined phone. He didn’t want to be found or tracked? Why smash it other than in an aggressive action? “That’s probably our best bet,” Placing the phone back down and straightening up, Simon acknowledged Ariana’s suggestion, keeping his tone calm as he noted that Ariana seemed fired up about this; he fully understood why considering how emotionally invested she got when it came to the safety of her friends. “I’ll let you lead--” He cut himself off and turned to sneeze thrice into his elbow. “Sorry. The way,” He sniffled and pulled out a packet of tissues; the swirl of Ariana and Winn’s scents and Denny’s dander about the house (combined with Beans who now hopped up on all his furniture at home) must’ve caught up to him, he thought. “Your nose probably works better than mine, at the moment.” He said rather lightly, hoping to lift the mood at least a little - it was easier to think clearly when the aura wasn’t so dour.

Of all the people that could have showed up, Ariana was glad it was Simon. He was always so good at maintaining a level-head about things even though he could be a little spazzy. She loved him for it though. She watched as he looked around Winn’s home. Simon was able to pick up on more of the nuances than she had been. Part of her had still been so pissed off that he did something so reckless and then ran from it. What happened to being sure to reach out to him if she needed anything at all? She knew he was probably feeling out of sorts, guilty, or some other crazy combination of emotions, but this wasn’t the answer. The whole place paired with Simon’s word made it pretty clear he was running off which only served to make her more pissed off. “Clearly he took the time to deactivate his shit before smashing his phone. Because running off is such a great idea,” she huffed.

Ariana shook her head. There was no use in stewing in anger right now. Winn needed them and the longer they waited, the less likely it was that they’d find him. She let out a big sigh and said, “I know, I know. He’s going through a lot of his feelings right now. Doesn’t change the fact I’m mad at him.” She took in one last sniff of his scent before turning to Simon and directing, “Let’s go. The sooner we find him the better.” With her eyes closed, she walked ahead trying to pick up on the faint traces of himself he left behind. Her nose was leading the way and her feet were quick to follow.

“It’s okay to be mad and frustrated,” Simon remarked mildly, noting the younger girl’s emotions that were running high. He was being truthful; it was frustrating for him too, especially after having that conversation about sticking together and being honest with one another to Winn a couple days after the ‘pack meeting’ - he would wonder if that was a ‘Bitten’ issue but Lucas apparently did the same thing... Martyring himself because ‘no one would understand, no one can help’. “You’re doing well so far; just try to follow your anger with - here’s that word again - patience,” He gave a gentle, if watery smile to Ariana as the latter picked up the trail and motioned the way they were going as he tended to his face with a tissue. Being outside provided immediate relief - he was still learning about the double-edged sword that was the wolf’s immunity - but he was still thankful that Ariana had the double-benefit of being a Born wolf and being unhindered by-- He sneezed again. Aaand again. Though he wanted to, he decided not to apologise for his body’s uncontrollable spasms, painful as that decision felt. Ariana was moving fast - that was good, that meant she was maintaining a trail and he kept up with her easily enough, taking advantage of her leading the way to look around each area they paused in as if to pick up some other clues of his own. Nothing so far… disappointing. At least they had a trail.

Ariana appreciated that Simon always had a knack for validating her emotions. It had a relaxing effect, just being there and understanding what she was feeling. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember the whole patience part.” It was easier said than done, but she could try at least. She didn’t believe Winn had acted maliciously, but damn was his string of poor decisions really frustrating. She could give him shit for this is all once they found him. The trail of scent kept her attention. It was faint, but if she kept sniffing she could follow it. The sound of sneezing registered behind her and she called out, “Bless you.” It seemed like he was sneezing more than usual today, but maybe, he’d forgotten to take his allergy meds. She fumbled around briefly with her backpack, still sniffing her way toward Winn, and pulled out some Claritin and a small bottle of water. She turned to him and held them out, “Here, hope these help.” Her focus shifted back to the trail that seemed to be leading straight toward Candleton Cemetery. Why would he come here of all places? Winn really did have a flair for the dramatics.

There was something about Ariana, something that made a small part of Simon think that all his talk and advice and unwarranted preaching was worth something. Ariana listened, which he learned a long time ago was all that most people wanted. He wondered if Winn felt that fractured communication as the duo made their way; that no one would listen or possibly even that there wasn’t anything he could say. Speaking of listening, he felt a small rush embarrassment as Ariana turned to give him the bottle of medication paired with the water, both of which he took gratefully with a smile. Clever Ariana, ready on all fronts. If there was one good thing to have come out of her being raised on the road, it was that she was probably prepared for anything, including when he himself was being an actual liability instead of the one he usually called himself when he was being self-critical. “Thank you, my dear,” He replied thickly but with no less gentleness, continuing to follow her as he looked down to study the dosage he’d need. Double? By the time he looked back up after taking… he didn’t know, like seven and downing half the bottle of water, they seemed to have found themselves in a cemetery… or at least outside of one. “What an unusual detour,” He said out loud, quirking an eyebrow. Had he paid a visit to a lost loved one? That just added more complications in Simon’s mind but he kept his thoughts to himself for now.

Ariana hoped the meds helped Simon feel a bit better. The being allergic to yourself thing had to be rough. Plus, he was with her and Winn’s house was also home to a dog. She thought of it in present tense still even though he insisted on running off. It angered her still, but right now, she was focused on finding him. “Yeah, this definitely wouldn’t be my first stop, but clearly he’s being a little dramatic. Maybe there’s someone he knows buried here though,” Ariana mused curiously. She picked up her pace, trying to find him. She could still vaguely smell him, but she couldn’t see him or Denny anywhere. Where the hell was he? She found her fists curling into balls, ready to hit the next tree she saw, but she’d refrain. Trees broke your hands and she didn’t need a cast to clash with her prom dress. His scent was fading and she desperately looked around the cemetery with Simon close behind her before she happened upon a man. She approached him slowly, not wanting to invade, and did her best to calmly say, “I’m sorry to bother you. I was looking for a friend of mine.”

Honestly, Matty was pretty sure this was the most trashed he’d been since, fuck, 1985, maybe. He’d managed to scrape himself out of that broken-down crypt, once night fell again - but not much further. Wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, though. Conveniently. So he’d settled in, still drifting on the far edge of all that tequila. And just, just starting to feel the ash burn out, into the usual fever. Shit, man. That’s where he’d been at, sitting back against some mossy, smashed up masonry, eyes screwed shut, shirt barely buttoned, when someone started talking. Out of the swirl of the comedown. Matty jerked, full-body about it, staring around at... a girl, and a guy. That’s it? Pretty regular looking. No stakes. Or swords. Solid. He sniffed, his skin itching. She was asking something. A friend of hers. “Sure, no, uh… no bother, that’s…” Oh. Oh, fuck. Their smell. Kinda musky? Fresh, though, layered over what was left of that werewolf, from earlier. Winn. Great. This - this was the pack, huh? Throwing a weak wave at the dude hovering close by, Matty rubbed a hand across his face, his nose, and shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, I’ve been kinda… checked out…” He licked his lips, dry, nervous. “What’s your friend like?”

The older wolf stayed relatively close to Ariana, managing to quiet himself down as they looked around the old graveyard. Simon hadn’t been to a graveyard since arriving in White Crest but he figured they didn’t often smell like… alcohol? The scent managed to trickle through what was left of his breathing passages and he turned his head just before Ariana found the apparent source. It wasn’t often he happened upon someone who looked almost as homeless as him but here they were. He stayed quiet as Ariana initiated the conversation, feeling himself tense up like he was readying to attack. But why? There didn’t seem to be anything particularly notable about this guy other than the convenience of Winn’s trail indiscriminately leading them to him. He was clearly not expecting to be awoken either and Simon noted the movements of his hands, the way his arms and body adjusted. Hungover? Perhaps dehydrated. Drug use? Maybe given the attention he was giving to his face, but too soon to tell. Simon forced himself to loosen up and he took a more casual stance next to Ariana, folding up the tissue he’d been using and putting his thumbs in his pockets. “He’s a bigger guy, well-shaped and at least part-Asian,” He started lightly, his tone warm, if still congested. “Facial hair, boisterous personality. Very, ah... “ He fell quiet-- well, quieter. “Very rambunctious. He appreciates attention.” He smiled slightly despite why they were there. With that description, he lifted the tissue once more as if it acted as a method to mute him, allowing Ariana to take the lead once more - this was technically her mission, after all.

Ariana had been so hyper-focused on locking in on Winn’s scent that she hadn’t immediately smelled the alcohol in the air around the man. Getting drunk in the graveyard… now that was a mood. Not her mood, but still a mood. She pulled her phone out of her backpack and pulled up a selfie she had snapped of her and Winn. She turned her phone around and extended it so the man could see. “He’s the one that doesn’t look like me,” she explained, “Have you seen him around here at all?” His scent was fading and she turned back to the man, focusing on his heartbeat to detect any sign of lying. Only she hadn’t heard one. Well then, that explained the whole hanging out drunk in a cemetery. “His trail ends here and we’re trying to find him. We think he may be in trouble.”

The nodding was a bit kneejerk, at this point, but. Matty listened along, looked close. Blinked, bloodshot and too warm, enough to at least tip his stomach, if not turn it all the way. Fuck. Definitely Winn. “Right,” he stammered, brushing some of that loose, tangling hair out of his face. Looking closer. Not that he had to, obviously, just... buying time. Winn hadn’t talked about trouble, exactly. Not the outside kind. There’d been the guy, the asshole, he’d mentioned. Dude in the back didn’t strike him as the type, though. But. Matty didn’t know these people. Couldn’t say how legit the whole “friend” thing was, between them. (Sounded pretty real. Didn’t it?) If Winn had wanted to have the… family, or whatever, to know where he was - wouldn’t he have called, or something? People did that, now. Cellphones, and shit. “Uh…” Matty sat back, with a wince. Just had to make a call. Come on - him and Winn, they’d finished a magnum between the headstones. Done some pretty fuckin’ serious talking, even, you know, as strangers. If the dude wanted some time to himself, or whatever, that wasn’t for Matty to screw with. Not like he sold people out for kicks. He shook his head, decisively. “Nope. Never seen him.” Except, if he could smell Winn, still - they sure as shit could. “I was pretty out of it last night, though, like… I’m the last motherfucker in this place you should be asking, honestly.” That, with a thin laugh, swallowed quick. Fuck, man. Had to hope this wasn’t the wrong call. The kind that ended in a gruesome mauling...

He was having trouble thinking of this venture as “exciting” considering the incredibly foolish spontaneity Winn displayed that led to this fine comedy of errors but something almost felt familiar to Simon as the duo asked the graveyard rockstar regarding the whereabouts of their… friend. Pack member. Both. Both? Yes, Winn was still in the pack in his mind, despite some valid protests from other party members. He listened and took to wandering off as Matty stuttered out an answer-- or… what he probably considered the equivalent of one, keeping one of his hands in his pockets as the other absently messed with his own face, hovering between that and scratching at his neck. Part of him didn’t buy it; he trusted Ariana’s tracking ability more than this guy’s “witness testimony”. Another part of him was hoping there’d be some clue they could glean that didn’t depend on the rockstar’s word; some newly-disturbed earth, another trail, tangible evidence, something. He glanced over at the guy slouched on the ground, his brow furrowed slightly and his expression rather sharp though his reddened eyes betrayed him somewhat. Nah, he was slick. This guy was, too and though he wasn’t hearing a lying heartbeat (perhaps because he didn’t hear a heartbeat at all), he allowed himself to be led by his intuition… since his nose obviously wasn’t doing it for him. He wanted to give his two cents but he kept the comment to himself and his body, for some reason, decided to fill the silence with another sneeze. “It’s your call, Ariana,” He replied, sniffling. “What do you want to do?” He asked, hoping she knew that he’d follow her down whatever path she took at that moment; yeah, she was young but he trusted her lead and would be there to temper her more extreme decisions if it came to that.

Ariana wasn’t sure just how much she believed Matty, but with the shape he was in, she didn’t feel like there was too much point in pushing it. Still, she arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure you haven’t seen him. Because it smells like he was right here,” she pushed, trying to determine if he really was just drunk and clueless. It was unlikely Winn told him where he was going, but a direction would have at least been helpful. He did look pretty disheveled and it was possible they were wasting time. Her boot tapped against the ground, anxious to move again. To get to Winn before he made any rash decisions. Although running off and deactivating any form of contacting you already was. Ugh. Why did the wolves insist on cutting themselves off from others? That’s not what they were supposed to do. Maybe she hadn’t grown up with a pack, but she knew they had to look out for each other. She felt herself getting exceedingly frustrated again and tried to remember Simon’s words of remembering to throw patience into the mix. Okay, okay. Whatever was going on wasn’t the fault of some drunk, probably vampire, in the cemetery. “Right, yeah, sorry didn’t mean to get a little intense there. But really, if you’ve seen him, something happened and his phone is broken. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Oh, no, no no. Matty didn’t like the looks he was catching, here. Werewolves, man - even this way, human-looking, they were pretty fuckin’ amped up. That much, he knew. Had seen it himself, at the Ring. And even before then, in the wild. Well, some warehouse in Chicago. Close enough. Pulling his legs in a little closer, Matty was eyeing between the two of them, honestly not sure which might be the bigger problem, if he tried to make a break for it. Sniffly dude. Tiny girl. Hammered vampire. Be a riot of a chase, huh? He cleared his throat and shrugged again, as the kid kept going. “Told you. I - I don’t know him. Didn’t see anybody.” Really didn’t owe Winn losing an arm to some pissed off packmates. No, sir. But. They hadn’t pounced yet. She was prickling, though. Until she wasn’t. “No problem, yeah,” Matty brushed it off, earnestly. Sure, werewolf-grade intensity. Not a big deal. Not fuckin’ terrifying. “We’re good. We’re cool.” Definitely shouldn’t have finished the tequila. Maybe shouldn’t have lied. “I hope you find him, seriously. Like, best of luck.” Somewhere else. Far away, preferably.

As the two talked, Simon was inclined to agree with the mindset he was sure Ariana was taking; something was fishy about this guy. He blew his nose which, coupled with the medicine Ariana gave him earlier, helped clear out his sinuses where the sour bite of alcohol mixed with Winn’s faint scent was much more prevalent. Did this guy break out of a brewery? He frowned though he wanted to give Ariana a pat on the shoulder for her being calm… even if it was evident the rockstar’s dismissive, unhelpful attitude was weighing on her nerves. He popped his neck, not necessarily in an aggressive gesture though the noise crackled through the tension that was filling the air. “Hmm…” He hummed absently, giving the hungover individual another, rather gentle look. He sighed. “Do you remember any of where you were or what happened recently?” He found himself asking, his tone still calm. A small part of him was frustrated himself, sure; Winn was missing and SOMETHING had to have happened between this guy and Winn to cover him. He wondered if the stale smell of alcohol had to do with it. He paced as they talked, trying to find a ‘hot spot’ for Winn’s scent for the trail… maybe mixed with booze? Was that too obtuse of a thought?

Wasn’t that a sound right out of high school. The pop-snap of a neck thicker than his, attached to somebody who’d probably be happy to deliver a bit of over the counter amateur chiropractic. Matty slid up against the crypt he’d been propped against, so suddenly it surprised him; his legs didn’t hold out, though, and he took a lean, rather than, you know. Standing. Even standing, fuck. What kinda question was that, anyway? Like it was any of his business, Jesus. “Yeah, no. Had a rough fuckin’ day, alright?” He cracked, a little. God, it’d only been - not long, since he heard. About her. Bennie. Why he was here, dealing with this. Matty pressed back against the lichen-y stones, trying to stay as still as he possibly could, while the ground kept rolling under him. “I’ve been here. Inside,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the mausoleum he’d spent the daylight hours in. “Pissed faceless. For a while. I didn’t see your pal, I swear to Christ, I didn’t...” If he could still do that. Swear to anything. No lightning yet, so. Solid.

Ariana found herself annoyed with the man even though he was minding his own business getting drunk in a cemetery. Was this a normal undead thing or was he just messy? It wasn’t any of her business anyway. She let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Okay, you don’t know shit. Maybe try to like… get it together for your own sake though.” She turned back to Simon, ready to refocus back on the task at hand. Winn’s scent was starting to fade and they needed to move fast. Her head was still shaking as she turned back to Simon. “Let’s go. His scent is fading, if we’re going to find him we need to keep moving.” She gave a wave to the drunk vampire and tried to follow Winn’s smell. They made it through more of the cemetery, but it seemed to be completely lost. “Shit,” she grumbled to Simon, “I don’t think we can find him, at least not using our noses. Scent is too faded for me to track him.”

Getting nowhere fast. Patience aside, Simon straightened up and exchanged glances with Ariana, giving a small nod to indicate that he was ready when she was; he could argue he was ready even before that given the uselessness of the drunken rockstar. “I’m sorry you had a rough night,” He remarked honestly to the guy before going back over to Ariana’s side and giving her a gentle smile even though their hunt hadn’t yielded any results, at least not useful ones. They knew he fled, then came to the cemetery, then… the rest was between him and the hungover individual. “You did the best you could,” He said to her, opting to give her a pat on the shoulder this time. “And you kept calm. That’s perfect for a hunter like yourself.” He exhaled. “Sorry that guy back there wasn’t… cooperative but you did good.” He motioned with his head to go back to Winn’s house. “C’mon, lemme get you some food or something.” He hid the worry in his head with his casual tone, hoping not to give the impression that he didn’t care but that was’t further from the truth. He just didn’t see the point in being so openly concerned when there wasn’t anything they could do at that specific moment in time. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something else. You’re clever like that.”

#the trail begins #simon #matty #matt #wickedswriting #i forget which tag i use for matty oops

12 notes · View notes

your-worst-knightmare · 4 years

Text

Red: Pt. 11

Masterlist here

Huge shoutout to @purefandomsalt for the amazing help with the article in this part.

When Jason awoke on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, he noticed two things. One: he was, for some reason, dressed in a ridiculously oversized dark green suit. It had to be bigger than Bruce’s even, Jason couldn’t deny it. And two, more alarmingly– he couldn’t remember the events of the entire night. Or the past week, for that matter. The noise from outside suggested that Bruce was hosting some sort of event though. Maybe Jason had snuck one too many drinks. Alfred would kill him if he found out about Jason’s underage drinking. No time to think about that now– bile was rising in Jason’s throat and he scarcely made it to the toilet before emptying his stomach.

As he cleaned himself up afterwards at the sink, he stopped to stare at himself in the mirror. He was aware of the massive suit (the sleeves which he had rolled up) on his lanky frame. But it was his hair that made him pause. Yes, it was gelled back– if not a bit messily for this early into the night, but there was white. More specifically, a white streak in his hair that seemed so… stark. Was this someone’s idea of a prank? Because he was sure he didn’t remember dying it.

Okay, just move on, Jason thought as he washed his face. It’s just hair anyway. It doesn’t look too bad. He just needed to sneak upstairs and wait this whole party out. He wasn’t feeling so great anyway. He stole one last look in the mirror, hiking up the sleeves of his jacket again when his eyes flashed green. Jason scrambled backwards. What the hell? They looked almost metahuman-ish and he was fairly sure he was not one.

With the green flash came an itchiness in his brain. It wanted something– havoc, carnage. Jason didn’t want any part of it. He steadied himself on the sink. Breathe. That’s what Bruce always said.

The prickling eventually subsided, along with the green in his eyes. Jason breathed a sigh of relief. What on Earth was that? He opened the bathroom door cautiously and checked the hall for any nosy socialites. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he dashed upstairs to his room. He noted the new “injuries” the walls seemed to have sustained as he walked. Scratches and dents, ones that seemed too random to be from a single fight. What happened?

His room had changed too. The walls– which were previously a dark blue were now a muted grey. Most of his stuff– useless stuff that he had collected–were gone. Framed posters hung around the room and Jason was baffled that he didn’t recognize most of the names on them. Had his double life as both Robin and Jason Todd really affected his knowledge of pop culture that much?

He opened his closet to find another surprise. All the clothes were at least four sizes too big for him. Whoever set up this prank must have put in a damn lot of time. After rummaging around to at least find some of his own stuff, he stopped. Hidden in a drawer was a small handgun. He picked it up gingerly. It was loaded. His eyes widened when he inspected the barrel of the gun. J.T. His initials.

What would Bruce say? Where had this even come from? Jason placed the gun back into its hiding place, closing the drawer. He would focus on the problem at hand. Clothes. He needed clothes that actually would fit him.

Jason stepped out into the hallway to look for wherever his real stuff was. The prankster had probably put them in the spare room next to Jason’s– it would require the least amount of effort. Nobody really went into it anyway. He was just about to push open the door when he heard someone inside. “Hello?” Jason asked, knocking lightly on the door. Upon hearing no response, he opened it.

No sooner had he cracked the door open when he was slammed against the wall. A girl, about his age, held a blade to his throat. She looked like she had ditched the party downstairs as well, apparently having traded in the dark green dress currently lying on the bed for a pair of sweats. Her red hair had been meticulously styled at some point, but had since been pushed back and out of her face.

“Where am I?”she asked.

“Wayne Manor, you probably came here for the party,” Jason replied, if not as smoothly as he would have liked.

“Wayne Manor…” she muttered, thinking. “Who are you?”

“Jason. Uh, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s ward…”

She thought for a moment before letting him go. Jason inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Why are you wearing an ill-fitting suit, Jason?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his neck. ”I woke up about half an hour ago in this thing.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you remember any recent events, of how you got to this party?”

“No… wait, you don’t either?”

She shook her head. “Last I remember, I was on the other side of the Atlantic. I certainly don’t remember coming to this party to have a matching outfit with you.”

Jason eyed the dress on the bed. There was no doubt that both his suit and the dress were intended to be a pair. How he’d managed to get this girl to coordinate with him, he had no idea. He didn’t even know her name. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Artemis. But that is unimportant. We need to figure out what is going on here,” she said, marching into the hallway.

“Wait wait wait,” Jason hissed, grabbing her shoulder.

“Touch me again, Little one, and you will cease to have arms.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just– We can’t go downstairs. The press will have a field day if they find out anything is going on at Wayne Manor.”

Artemis stopped. “Fine. What do you propose we do?”

“First, let me find some clothes that actually fit me, and then we call Alfred. He’ll know what to do.”

The pair wandered through the rooms, most of which Jason didn’t even know were being lived in. Some of them had pictures of people who either seemed to age five years on camera or people he didn’t even recognize. Hell, he found some of someone who looked suspiciously like an older version of him, except way taller and more built. Something was definitely up.

Jason finally found a t-shirt and sweatpants his size in a room that was probably meant for a vampire. All precautions had been taken to block out the windows. And it seemed like a very paranoid vampire, at that. The amount of red string in the room was appalling. “This is an odd bedroom,” Artemis remarked.

“Yeah, don’t remember it. Like at all.”

They went back to Jason’s room to try and think through the situation. About five minutes into comparing notes, Jason’s phone buzzed. Funny, he didn’t recognize this model. There was a text from Dick.

‘Hey, u ok?’

‘The food wasn’t that bad, was it?’

‘Dude, where r u?’

‘It’s been an hour’

‘D U D E’

Jason quickly replied.

‘Come upstairs’

‘My room’

‘We have a situation’

No sooner than two minutes had passed when Dick arrived. “Hey, Jason what’s–” Dick stopped at the doorway dead in his tracks.

“What?”

“Jason?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes, that’s my name Dick. Stop messing around and help us.”

“You’re a kid…”

“Your brother is quite slow,” Artemis remarked, twirling the knife in her hands.

“I’m almost sixteen, dammit. Snap out of it and help, will you?”

“Jason… you’re supposed to be twenty.” He ran his hands through his hair, still not fully understanding the scene.

“Then why don’t we remember anything of the past five years?” Jason asked, voice rising with every word.

“A spell, perhaps. One that sent us back to our adolescent selves,” mused Artemis.

“Who would do that?”

Dick thought for a minute. “Jason, did you get into trouble with anyone? Did you have any information that they don’t want you to know?”

“Well how am I supposed to know, Dick?” Jason burst out, throwing his hands into his lap. “Why don’t you ask my older self? I’m sure he has loads to tell you.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. We’ll figure this out, Jay. Just– agh,” Dick grunted, pacing the room like a madman. “Just stay here for now. We need to figure out how this happened.”

“Whoever did this is probably long gone. Unless Jason and I possessed something of importance, I can see no reason for anyone to do this other than amusement.” Artemis narrowed her eyes. “ And if it was for mere mockery, I will–”

Dick laughed nervously. “Yeah, we get it Artemis. You’re mad. We’ll figure this out guys.”

“Yeah? Then at least explain this.” He pointed to the white streak in his hair. “Or would you rather explain these,” Jason glowered, allowing the flood of green carnage to fill his eyes. “Or how about the damn gun in the closet, Golden Boy?”

“Look, Jason, when you got older, your… relationship with us wasn’t… the best. We barely saw you… and I can’t tell you what happened because of that.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Just stay here for now. I’ll get some help,” Dick ordered before stepping back out into the hallway.

“He’s lying to you,” Artemis said plainly.

“I know.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reign the green back under control. “He’s bad at it. I just wanna know who I became, you know?”

“Likewise. I will be in my room. Knock if you need me.”

With Artemis leaving him alone, Jason slumped onto the bed. His bed. The room didn’t feel like his anymore. Then again, he wasn’t even sure who he was. Maybe he just needed to deal with all of this in the morning. Maybe he would be able to remember things better when his brain wasn’t as fried as it was right now. Maybe if he just closed his eyes...

He was met with laughter. He recognized it, but this time it only seemed more maniacal. The Clown Prince of Crime couldn’t let him be even in his resting moments. All he could see was red. Blood pooling on the floor around him, the red numbers of a clock counting down, the tatters of his uniform giving way to mutilated flesh. He gasped, for air, for life, both of which he felt was being forced out of him. And then it was forced back in. He didn’t want it. The acrid, stinging, burning life. He felt alive, and it hurt. He was drowning in it, sinking, sinking, sinking uselessly clawing upward at a heaven that rejected him. The crazed laugh mocked his misery, simply cackling until Jason could take it no more.

Jason awoke with a start. He was drenched in sweat and his hands shook so badly that he had to steady them on the blanket. The damn knock on his door didn’t help matters. “Give me a sec!” he called, in as steady of a voice as he could. The clock read early into the next morning. So he’d slept through the end of the gala then. That was a relief. He dried his face and composed himself before finally letting the guest in.

Artemis stood at the door with a laptop in hand. “I have found some information you may want to read,” she said, walking towards his desk.

He managed a dry laugh. “I thought you hated me. Why’d you come find me?”

“I thought through some things, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I wouldn’t have trusted you without reason. Now stop whining and come here.” The Amazon slid the computer onto the table and motioned for Jason to sit down. “This is from last night. It’s from the Gotham Enquirer.”

His curiosity got the better of him and Jason did as he was told. Under the title was a picture of his older self, a face he recognized only from pictures around the manor. He was standing with Artemis with an arm slung around her shoulder. He took a breath and started to skim through the article.

One Less Wayne Bachelor?

By Maylen. K. Bird

Gotham’s most awaited party has finally arrived, and it’s creating a buzz on the internet. With it’s large palace-like venue along with its impressive guests, (A-listers celebrities and high class rich folk– the entirety of the Wayne family included) it’s easy to see why. The Wayne charity gala was a stunning success for all parties involved- raising well over their aim for the night, donations exceeding half a trillion. The funds will be directed around the city to support soup kitchens, shelters and orphanages.

However, what has the public scrambling is the unknown face brought to the gala by the elder Wayne boy. Jason Wayne, not usually known for even attending public events, brought a mystery woman to the party last night, one confirmed to be an Amazon. Quite the partner to say the least.

Dubbed as the “lovable murderous recluse” by the youngest Wayne , it was quite a shock to both guests and reporters alike. If the piece of eye candy wasn’t enough, his plus one has us all drooling. Gothamites longing for his attention are certainly crestfallen, as finding an equal to his partner is no easy feat. The fiery-haired beauty wore a stunning outfit: A viridian halter-dress (which was worn too elegantly to be natural) matching Jason Wayne, which in itself was evidence enough of their closeness.

The two spent the entire night together, virtually ignoring the rest of the guests. Like a true gentleman, he invited his date to dance with a romantic flair. We didn’t expect anything less from a Wayne. Upon being asked about his relationship with the Amazon, the Wayne gave us this polished statement: “She prefers a more private life if you please. If you must have something, however, we met through work.”

It is already well-known that Jason Wayne has invested much time and resources into countless charity projects. On working with Wayne, the Amazon gave us this gem: “Jason truly wishes to help people at his core, and I only hope I am able to aid him in that. Through our work we have become very close, and I trust him with my life.”

Albeit both very scripted responses, we managed to gather a more candid testimony from Jason’s brother. Dick Grayson told us that the couple’s relationship has been recent news. “Jason’s never said anything about this before. He tends to be a private person, so consider yourselves lucky to even witness this. I’ve honestly never seen my little brother so happy.” Grayson goes on further, sharing a juicy timbit of information saying; “ They actually told us they were attending the gala a few days ago, we had no idea they were a thing, but Jason actually coming all dressed up for an event like this was shocking enough to stop me from connecting the dots. I’ll say it right here– I’m just waiting for the wedding ring.”

So could this be it? The Waynes' may be receiving a new family member, and to our surprise it's the wedding that nobody expected.

Stay tuned as we try to get details on the potential wedding and this budding romance.

Jason whistled through his teeth, his eyes widening in surprise.. “What the hell did I just read?”

“I cannot be sure how much of this article is true or how reliable our own words are.” Artemis leaned onto the back of Jason’s chair. “But what I can take from this is that we were certainly close. In what sense, we must find out.”

Jason nodded exhaling. “Do you have any more information about me?”

Artemis brought up a new file, something obviously stolen from Bruce’s records. “I assume we really worked together through this. The Outlaws, as we are known.”

He huffed. What mess was he throwing himself into now? Nevertheless, he dove into the file.

He had been one of the founding members of a team called the Outlaws. He was no longer Robin. The record didn’t say how or why he’d shed the mantle, but it said who he’d become. The Red Hood. Former Robin. Former crime boss. Current vigilante. One willing to cross lines.

His team– the Outlaws– were all willing to cross lines. To spite their mentors, maybe. The lineup consisted of dishonoured proteges: A disgraced Arrow. A fallen princess. A failed Superman. A would-be-Wonder Woman. And him. A former Robin turned monster. What had he become?

Jason rubbed his face. He was honestly scared to keep reading, on account of what he might find. He wasn’t let down. The kill count made his breath hitch. He had a kill count. The Red Hood was confirmed to have taken close to one hundred lives. One hundred. He had taken one hundred lives. Maybe more.

Part of him wanted for someone- anyone to tell him that it wasn’t true. That it was all a very elaborate joke. The other part of him knew it wasn’t going to happen. Just like how he knew deep down that his mom was really gone. And how he knew that she wasn't coming back no matter how much he begged her to.

Artemis sat on his bed, tight-lipped and serious. Jason was sure, at least from her files, that she had only redeemed herself from the self that she remembered now. The opposite was true for him. “Are you alright, Jason?”

He wiped his eyes as discreetly as he could. “I don’t know. I don’t want to– just… I don’t even know what to make of this.”

“Sometimes death is necessary, you know.”

“Yeah, coming from a mercenary turned vigilante. Or however the hell you see it.” His words dripped with venom and green began to edge his vision. Jason sighed, regretting his words. Artemis was going through the same thing as he was. He left the laptop on the desk and joined Artemis on the bed.

“Sorry, just so much going on.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “We go through this together, okay?”

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

#rhato 2016 #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #jason todd #artemis grace #artemis of bana mighdall #de-aging #dc #red: pt 11 #jaytemis

19 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

enjoy your stay - chapter four

A/N Word count is around 3.7k. Warnings: cursing and mentions of sexual content.

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters will have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER FOUR ↳Blackmail does funny things to a person, but is it really as doom-and-gloomy as you think? You learn some interesting information about certain workers in the hotel that change your perspective about your own situation.

Things have been tense within the wallpapered halls of the hotel.

Not that sweet oblivious Namjoon would have the slightest clue.

Ever since Tae’s extremely inappropriate version of blackmail, you’ve been trying your best to keep your distance from both him and Jimin in the hopes that they’ll hook up on their own and save you the grey hairs.

Part of you wants to just go to Namjoon yourself and tell him what happened with Jin. Tae’s acting like you had sex with the guy, but it never got past kissing, so maybe you could survive with a slap on the wrist and go on your merry way.

But even though Jin and you both knew what happened, there weren’t any security cameras in the walk in chiller and even if there were, Tae was right. You didn’t think you could handle the look of disappointment on Namjoon‘s face when you told him you went behind his back, and took this long to tell him, too.

Your only hope was to get Tae to live out his bellboy fantasies and leave you alone. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, you had been putting all your brainpower between the hours of 11pm to 7am into your job. It was almost the end of the month, which meant reports were due soon, and Yoongi was around the hotel a lot more, just like he was that first night.

It was crazy to think you’d been here almost a month, and Yoongi’s returned presence in the hotel made it feel like more of a milestone.

He still stuck to the bar, although he never drank, and he was always in a sharp suit with mussed-up hair, like he had come straight from a day at the office. Whenever you would do your rounds and come upon the glorious sight of his back hunched over, white dress shirt taut across his shoulders, you thanked your lucky stars you worked in a place where even the accountant was one of the sexiest men in town.

This morning, he had been here before you started working, and was still poring over pages and pages of figures and tables and charts at 3am.

You had promised yourself that you would look after him just as much as you did the other staff members while you were on duty, and so you found yourself with a mug of decaf coffee in one hand and a little bowl of fries you got Jin to put through before he headed home.

As usual, Yoongi didn’t look up when you approached, trusting that you’d call out to him if you needed him. It wasn’t until he heard the clink of the plate and mug against the glass top of the bar that he put his pen down and glanced over.

He always looked tired, but you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows in concern when he made eye contact. The bags under his eyes looked more like smudges of charcoal and his gaze was glassy and unfocused.

You knew he had a pair of glasses; you had seen them when you visited his office that night, but he hated wearing them and so just suffered the headaches of eye strain.

You clear your throat a little and shoot him a friendly smile. “You’ve been here for a while so I thought I’d get you some food to keep you going. I didn’t know how you took your coffee so I brought a couple packets of sugar in case. Oh, and don’t worry, it’s decaf, so you won’t have trouble sleeping when you finish up.”

He raises his eyebrows in bemusement but graces you with a small, close-lipped smirk. “Accountants are sharks, darling. We never stop swimming or we’ll drown.”

You blink, struggling to process what he means when you were so caught off-guard by the pet name. “Uh, we have normal coffee. I can come back with-“

“Decaf is fine. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, waiting for him to say thank you, but after a moment of silence that begins to get uncomfortable, you turn to leave. “Anyway, I better get-“

“You know what I can’t work out?” You freeze, mouth still half open from before you were interrupted. He waits for you to shrug before continuing. “Jin has always spent the most each month, that’s no surprise, but normally it’s because he buys expensive ingredients or wants to try new dishes all the time. But this month, he’s gone through an entire 20L tub of vanilla ice cream in less than two weeks. He’s brought two of them. Normally it takes about five weeks to go through one.” His eyes are hard, staring deeply into you, and all of a sudden you decide he probably wasn’t just joking when he said all accountants were sharks. “Why is that?”

The air is sucked out of the room. “I’ll- I’ll ask Jin for you and let you know what he says.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, then like magic the domineering energy fades away, and he rubs his eyes tiredly. “That would be great, thanks. God, report week turns me into a demon. I swear I’m not usually this harsh.”

You don’t trust yourself to reply with the rate that your heart is beating, so you let out a nervous laugh and leave as quickly as you can.

In Namjoon’s office is a list of all the employees contact details, and you track down Jin’s number while Namjoon is distracted with sending emails, sneaking out the back of the empty kitchen to call him.

Part of you feels guilty, since when he finally picks up after eight rings, his voice is a few octaves deeper and rusty from being woken up, but the two of you need to get your story straight before somebody catches you in a lie.

“I’m sorry for waking you, but it’s important.”

“You didn’t wake me. You can call me anytime, you know. I’ll add your number to my contacts after this so that I always know it’s you.”

Even though he lied about being awake, his words bring a blush to your cheeks. “Okay, if you’re sure. Anyway, Yoongi’s at the hotel sorting out the finances and he’s a little suspicious that you went through the ice cream so quick.”

“What? I haven’t gone through it already. I’m not that miserable.”

You sigh. “That’s not what- Look, all Yoongi can see on the receipts is that you bought a tub, and then two weeks later, bought another one even though you should’ve been barely halfway through the first.”

Jin swears, and if it wasn’t for the unfortunate context, you would’ve loved to hear it again in that raspy tone. “What did you say?”

“I said I’d call you and ask. We need to sort out what’s going on so that we don’t expose ourselves for misconduct. I know the ice cream thing is small, but Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s suspicious. Namjoon’s little brother was in the kitchen when I left. He knows something happened and if he knows we can’t guarantee he won’t tell Namjoon. And then what?”

“Namjoon won’t fire us.”

“Maybe not fire us, but he definitely won’t be happy if he finds out.”

Jin grunts. “If he gets mad, he’s a jealous hypocrite.”

Your response dies in your throat. “Wh- What? What do you mean?”

You hear a whistling in the static background of the call and figure he’s probably making himself a cup of coffee to wake up fully. The guilt at ruining his sleep returns again but he replies before you get the chance to feel too bad.

“Look, I wouldn’t tell you this if we weren’t already in this situation, but Namjoon isn’t going to think any less of you for being romantically involved with colleagues. It doesn’t happen often with the night shift since we’re all dudes, but Namjoon and I... we were together before my girlfriend and I even met.”

You thank your lucky stars you didn’t make this phone call while still in Namjoon’s office. “Together together?”

Jin sighs and takes a sip of his drink before continuing. “I worked here for a couple of years before he bought the place and saved us from shutting down. When he came in, he was barely 21. He didn’t know what he was doing, really, and he relied on me a lot since I knew more about the hotel and how things ran. I was grateful to him for saving my job and my career, and... things just went from there. We were together for just under a year.”

You bit your lip, dragging your teeth over the skin as you processed that information. “Okay. So it doesn’t matter if he finds out? Wait, why did you guys break up? Will he be mad that you went to me instead of him?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat. “That’s personal, I’m afraid. I’m only telling you this so that you can sleep easy knowing your job isn’t on the line. I’ll handle Namjoon if he does find out, okay? Just tell Yoongi one of the kitchen hands left the tub on the bench and it melted so I got a new one. He’ll get grouchy that I didn’t just re-freeze it but he thinks I’m stupid anyway.” You stay silent, not wanting to admit you had completely forgotten about the whole ice cream ordeal in the wake of the news Jin had dropped on you. “I’m going to see if I can get some more sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. If you want, you could come a bit early to work and I can make you some dinner after the service ends?” He would never admit it to you, but the way his sentence lifts at the end belies his nervousness.

“Yeah, that sounds great, Jin. I’ll be sure to send my compliments to the chef.”

He laughs. “Bye bye, now.”

“See you, Jin.”

You hang up and take a few moments in the musty closet to compose yourself before heading back down the hallway to the bar.

Recently, when going down to the lobby to check up on Hoseok, you’ve been as quick as you could manage without Hoseok getting suspicious, and you’ve successfully managed to leave before Jimin makes it over to the reception desk.

Tonight, however, Hoseok seems to have cottoned on to your desperate attempts, and is making you change the receipt rolls in the eftpos machine even though you know full well he can do it himself.

“Ah, so the new roll just goes in there, I see. Thanks for your help, muppet.” Hoseok is sitting at his chair, one elbow on the table, stroking his chin and nodding thoughtfully.

From the corner of your eye you see the bellboy ominously approaching and grimace. The last thing you need is Jimin bringing up your conversation about Tae. From the way Hobi grins at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, Jimin’s possibly told him already.

Although you studiously avoid looking up, you can see the brilliant smile stretched across Jimin’s face as he makes more progress than he has in the past week.

“Well, considering there’s literally no other place for it to go, and it was where you got the old one out, yes, Hoseok, that’s where the roll goes.”

He pulls a face at your attitude but doesn’t say anything.

Jimin calls out your name, and you stand up slowly in resignation.

“Feels like ages since we’ve spoke!”

Now that you actually look at him, you feel a little bad. Yes, he’s a shameless horndog who’s ass is so good you’ve been blackmailed into setting him up, but he doesn’t know about the whole Tae thing, and it’s clear from the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes that he’s upset with the way you’ve been treating him.

You melt a little inside with shame. “Namjoon’s been super stressed with trying to get everything sorted for the monthly report, that he’s got me feeling anxious by association. I’ve kind of been running around like a headless chicken lately.” Both of those points were true, if not actually related.

“You get off in like an hour, right? Us three should go get breakfast after the day staff come in. Jennie’s usually here on time, although the receptionist lady is like twenty minutes late most of the time. I think she has kids to drop off to school, though, so what can you do?” He laughs shakily, catching himself from rambling too much.

Hobi jumps in to save him. “The coffee shop across the street does bagels, I think. We could go there, it’s pretty quiet before 8am.”

The angelic hope in Jimin’s eyes and the warning stare of Hobi make it impossible to say no. And a small part of you thrives on the attention the two men always give you. Okay, a pretty big part of you enjoys the attention.

“Only if you let me shout the coffees, I owe you for being a little distracted lately.”

The jingle of the doorbell means Jimin’s services are required, but he wraps you in a tight bear hug and whispers a goodbye in your ear before you go.

You breathe out heavily and lean against Hoseok’s desk, the two of you quietly watching Jimin chatting up the small family that have walked in, making conversation like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“He’s got the biggest crush on you.”

Your observations are interrupted by Hoseok’s sudden comment. “What?”

He sways lazily back and forth in his chair. “I mean, probably all of us on the night shift are into you, we’re not blind, but he seems to really really like you. He was so upset when you weren’t speaking to him.”

“I knew you were acting all dumb to get me to stay at the desk longer.”

Hoseok blinks. “Huh? Oh, no, I actually did need your help with the eftpos machine. Normally I call Namjoon down to do it for me, so I’ve never done it myself.” He puts on a bright smile as the guests finally finish with their luggage and turn to approach the desk. He pauses. “Wait, what do you mean dumb?”

You snort, pat his shoulder, and leave him to deal with the guests.

It’s not until you are sitting across from Jimin in a cramped little cafe that you realise the implications of your previous conversation with Jin. This whole time, you were avoiding Jimin because of Tae’s perverted version of blackmail, but if Namjoon wouldn’t do anything should Tae tell him, then there was no reason for you to hold up your end of the deal.

Who needs to share, anyway?

“So, Jimin, what do you do outside of working?” You were a little sore that you had offered to pay for breakfast; the coffee was way too hot to even touch, and the bagels were soggy.

He lit up when you asked. “Actually, I’m a dancer.”

“Oh, no way!” You gave yourself a mental reminder to check him out once he stood up to see if he had a real dancers body. Up until that point you had only really paid attention to his gorgeous face and perfect ass.

“Yeah! Work’s a little rare for a dancer, though, so I’m posting some stuff on YouTube in the hopes that it’ll take off and go from there.”

Hobi, who was the only one of the three of you devouring his bagel, hummed enthusiastically around a mountain of cream cheese and jam. “He’s really great! You should check it out!”

Jimin’s smile softens and his cheeks heat up with the praise from his coworker. You get him to write the channel name on a napkin and promise to watch his videos when you get home. Even if you weren’t interested in his dancing, you were at the very least curious as to what he looked like out of his bellboy uniform and in some regular clothes.

The three of you spent almost an hour in the cafe, the two of them sharing stories about Jin setting a tablecloth on fire when serving a flambé dish, or Jungkook thinking that a scotch on the rocks used actual stones in the glass and you talking about the time you had to call a locksmith into the hotel at 2 in the morning because Namjoon somehow managed to break off the handle on the inside of his office and get locked inside.

By the time you parted ways, promising to find a better place to eat next time, it was well into the morning, just about 9:30, and you regretted choosing a coffee rather than something that would allow you to get some sleep.

Both men had already disappeared into the crowds, Hobi walking to his block of flats and Jimin catching the bus to his parents house, and instead of heading home yourself, you decided to return to the hotel, wide awake and ready for confrontation.

You went straight to Tae’s room rather than checking the bar or restaurant, and as luck would have it, he opened up a few moments after you knocked on the door.

He had the same sly grin on his face as he usually wore when he let you inside, leaning against the back of the door with his arms crossed.

“You have news?”

“Not the news you’re expecting.”

He frowns at this, tilting his head in confusion. “He’s not interested in me anymore?”

“I’m not interested in you anymore,” you counter. He scrunches up his face even more. “I’m not going to play matchmaker anymore. If you want to get your dick wet, you can do it yourself.”

You watch him curiously as he pushes off from the door, saunters past you and collapses onto the bed, one arm propping up his head. “Might I remind you that your job is on the line here?”

You shrug. “I would disagree with you. Fuck the bellboy, be my guest, but I don’t want to be a part of it.”

He shifts onto his stomach, grinning again. “Even if you aren’t helping me anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have to be a part of it. I already told you that you’re welcome to join.”

You scoff, but his intense gaze still has you flustered. “Thanks for the kind offer. I think I’ll pass.”

“Well, I suppose chefs are more your pay grade.”

A choked gasp of protest leaves your mouth. “Listen, mister, we didn’t have sex, we just kissed! And besides, it’s none of your business.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Tae actually looks caught off guard. “Wait, you aren’t fucking him? Oh,” he mutters, “never mind, then.”

You stare at him incredulously. “How are you at all related to Namjoon?”

He sits himself up on the end of the bed. “I just thought...”

“You thought I was the hotel slut that slept with any living body within its walls?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Well, that’s just...” You trail off, not sure how you could possibly respond to that. “You’re wrong. I’ve only worked here for a month.”

He smirks at you again, but more cheeky than sly. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not the hotel slut yet?”

Your lips twitch and you desperately try to keep a straight face. “Have a good day, Mr Kim.”

“Should I ask again in a couple weeks, or...?”

You turn to the door quickly but you know he saw your incredulous grin by the sing-songy way he calls goodbye.

#bts au #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenario #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #enjoy your stay

304 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Text

There would be a joke here about interrupting your regularly scheduled programming, but what even is that on this blog anymore? Je ne sais pas.

I wrote a fic for yet another fandom because I don’t know how to stay in just one! So, if anyone watches Deadly Class...

Rats’ Waltz

Rating: E (NSFW BELOW THE CUT) Pairing: Petra Yolga/Billy Bennett Chapters: 1/1

‘The Lady in Red’ played itself out and Petra let her arms slide down from Billy’s shoulders. His eyes darted nervously and he clasped a hand around his opposite wrist, throttling it. She wondered what was going through his mind. She’d always thought she’d known, before, but it was so different with him here in front of her. His words, the way he’d said he loved her, were easy to brush off; dismissing Billy and everything he was… that would be impossible after they’d danced, holding each other like that. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to figure out that she had a heart after all.

“How do I look?” she asked, watching his face steadily as his gaze zoomed down the length of her dress and shot back up to her eyes. It was mercury in a thermometer plunged into boiling water. It was the last ride on a condemned rollercoaster.

Billy’s laugh came out mostly through his nose.

“Like a princess.”

Petra pinched his bicep, hard, and he flinched away, almost dancing again, but more like the frantic, mosh pit shit that he and Lex practiced. The kind of dancing that god intended the populous to headbang along to.

“We could burn it off,” Billy suggested excitedly, fishing from his back pocket the lighter that had recently unleashed Lex’s pyrotechnic mayhem on the sky over Kings.

“Ah,” Petra halted him. She laid a soothing hand over Billy’s jittery one. “Good in theory, but I’m pretty sure one of those Sweet Home Ala-bitches got me with a blast of hairspray, and I’d rather my head didn’t go up in flames.”

She raised her hands level with her temples and made an exploding gesture, complete with sound-effect. Billy lowered his chosen instrument of chaos and Petra watched his nimble fingers push it deep into a front pocket of his pants. His hands were nice; she hadn’t really noticed that before. Then again, the chunky cast on his forearm generally arrested the eye.

Billy shifted, jumpy and overactive, and let out a giddy laugh.

“Me too, unless it’s metaphorically. I support your punk-given right to be a rage monster.”

Petra offered a tender half-smile.

“You had that handled tonight. You stood up for me.”

“It was retribution,” Billy said, sounding psycho-tough and stabbing a pointed index finger at the floor.

“It was anarchy.” Petra grinned. “And it was beautiful.”

He jerkily shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s a Rat got ‘cept other Rats?”

She nodded.

“You look out for your own. Your own,” Petra repeated, fainter, and reached up to cup Billy’s cheek.

He was too soft―not his face, though she doubted he’d ever shaved out of necessity―believing that she wouldn’t yell sike! or pull some other shit to punish the trust in his eyes. After she’d already hurt him, hurt him on purpose at Shabnam’s party. She was clearly bad for him and he was bad for her, a bad alliance in a place like this, not exactly hell, but maybe the clammy space between hell’s toes.

She kissed him because that seemed like a better idea than waiting to see if he’d do it first.

Billy pulled her back in, following her with his mouth when a breath snuck between them. Petra could feel him shaking, but she didn’t exactly know how to touch him. Damn green-mohawk’d livewire. He was so the opposite of casual.

“You’ve done this before, right?” she checked, drawing her face back from his.

“This this?” He puckered his lips to demonstrate kissing. Petra’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh,” Billy said, “this. Yep.” His vigorous nodding told Petra he’d caught on.

Yes, she meant sex, and yes, she knew he wasn’t a virgin. The way she’d asked probably made her seem like she didn’t know, but shit, it was supposed to have come out ringing with mockery, not soft and insecure. Ugh, she sounded tragically preteen.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” she snapped at him.

Billy’s jaw tightened and Petra felt the whole scene teeter at the edge of a cliff she hadn’t known they were on. He’d say something about Viktor and then she’d get defensive and shut him out and then he’d get frustrated by the ineffectiveness of the way he always tried to break down her emotional walls with a battering ram even though this had never worked in their entire history and then―

“Do you… have something to contribute?” Billy asked, rocking on his heels.

Petra got her nostrils to un-flare from her pre-emptive surge of anger.

“I haven’t,” she said shortly. Less words meant less room for feelings to leak out of the corners of her mouth like drool when the dentist took too long prodding at your molars. Jesus, when had she last been to a dentist?

Billy’s features showed exaggerated confusion: forehead rumpled like bedsheets, eyes wild, etc. Petra sighed.

“Done this,” she clarified, her eyes careful on his. “Not with anyone who mattered.”

“Viktor was…?”

“There. He was there. Frankly, I’d rather get the taste of him out of my mouth sooner than later. Metaphorically,” Petra added when something caught fire behind Billy’s eyes.

“Look, we can forget all about what I said before, ok?” His confession at Shabnam’s was what Petra took this to mean. Billy laughed awkwardly, self-consciously. “Things don’t have to be that intense between us, but I also don’t wanna be mouthwash.”

“It came out wrong,” she admitted, inexplicably pissed at herself for having to apologize for something. “You wouldn’t be mouthwash.”

“Well… good,” Billy decided. “I’m a person, Petra.”

“You’re a cold-blooded lizard-man if you don’t shut up and kiss me again soon.”

“Shit,” he laughed, hesitantly cupping the sides of her head like he thought she might knee him in the nuts. Honestly, it still wasn’t completely off the table. “I know you’re not exactly overflowing with emotions, but there is this thing called romance.”

“I don’t do romance.” She hoped her eyes hadn’t just gone as wide and dreamy as it felt like they had. Fuck.

“Guess that’s all on me then.”

As his face tilted towards hers, Petra anticipated a kiss that came down hard and hungry, like the one she’d given him. Apparently, that wasn’t how things went when Billy led. She should’ve learned from the dancing.

His lips brushed hers and something deep inside her jerked loose like a vending machine dropping a soda. Petra felt fizzy. Their mouths hadn’t fully connected when Billy’s tongue skated slickly along her lower lip. What the hell. She could feel this getting her wet; normally it took several minutes of her chosen paramour’s determined fingering (post- several minutes of her determined instructions) to do that. It was her body throwing her words back at her, a reminder that no one else she’d messed around with had mattered. What a disturbing revelation though. Not only did she have feelings for Billy, she was also hot for him. The hits seriously just kept on coming.

Moaning was inevitable when Billy’s tongue stroked fully along hers and dragged it back into his open mouth. Petra half-mourned the fact that the Nazi she-devils hadn’t played dolly right down to her underwear, because the ones she was wearing were still her own and they were going to be a bitch to hand-wash with bulk-bought soap in the communal ladies’ room. A soft “uh” sound found its way out of their interlocked mouths and her hands gripped the front of Billy’s shirt. Instead of pulling back the way Petra dreaded he might, he moved his hands down from her hair, rubbing the back of her neck. Thank god he hadn’t given her some innocent startled face. Not a good complement to how badly she wanted to ride his thigh.

Petra stayed close, pressing both palms to his chest. Well, what a pleasant surprise―this skittish little skateboarder had the gentle swell of non-steroid-enhanced muscle under here. Lean but firm. Felt like his body had adapted after so many rounds of combat class, even if his brain hadn’t. (Petra rarely saw him win a bout. He just wasn’t great at anticipating his opponents.) As she ran her hands across his chest over his t-shirt, Billy dropped his straight to her ass. Kind of amazing that he could find it under the fucking puffy dress. Petra assumed the credit went to some inherent ass-finding skill only present in teenage boys.

He pulled her in, which was when she felt his erection. Again, the dress had been deceptively puffy because, against Billy, all that fluff compressed in a manner usually only observed in spray-cheese. Petra’s heart thrummed and popped like a bassline.

“We can’t get caught,” she said, drawing back to give him a dead-serious look.

Billy rolled his eyes.

“No shit.”

“After the poisoned darts tonight, which we are definitely getting nailed for at some point, we can’t afford any more trouble from the Man.”

“Yeah, babe, talk socialist to me.” He chuckled, kissing her neck, but Petra pried him off. “Ok, ok! You’re right.”

“We can’t stay here,” she said, beginning with the obvious. “Somebody’ll be back to clean up once they get those lowlifes medical attention.”

“Can’t go to the dorms. Roommates.” His grasp on her ass loosened as he thought; it was kind of cute how Billy looked when he concentrated. Ugh, god, no. Focus on the problem, Petra.

“Plus someone would hear us and either go for snitching or blackmail.”

“Oh yeah? You think you’ll be loud?” He grinned.

“I may have left my weapons in my other ball gown, but I can still break you, Bennett,” she warned.

“Promise?”

Petra grabbed his hand and yanked, heading for the door. She stopped short of dislocating his shoulder, but she knew Billy got the message.

“So, where we goin’?” he hissed as they glanced left and right, slipping out into the hall.

“The Rats’ Nest.”

Dumb name―the bastard offspring of their group’s label and a ship’s crow’s-nest―and it had stuck since whichever Kings’ class hooligans had invented it. It was a room on the roof, where all the Rats hung out. Not a stairwell or storage, the rooftop shed was their pinnacle, their dirty confessional, their canvas for graffiti practice. Mostly, it was where guys got their first blowjobs and girls got their first sour taste of the patriarchy. It would do.

“Grim,” was Billy’s assessment. Petra wouldn’t and couldn’t argue, but it was what they had.

“Yeah, I won’t be lying on that floor. Hope missionary’s not your favourite position.”

“Have you wondered?” he asked sleazily as they climbed the stairs to the roof.

“No.” Yes. “But then again…” Petra glanced at Billy over her shoulder. “…everything about you screams ‘submissive,’ so maybe not missionary.”

He bounded up to get ahead of her, swinging the door open.

“Is that what you want?” Billy let the door close slightly so that she was delayed right next to him.

“What?” She was confused and it was better self-defence to wrap that confusion in barbed wire and come off irritated instead.

“Do you want me to be…” He glanced down, practically jumping in place as he bounced on the balls of worn sneakers. “…submissive? Is that what you like? Petra,” Billy said, suddenly staring her right in the eye, “tell me what you like.”

Her eyes widened in discomfort, almost giving her a headache, and she pushed past him, stepping out onto the roof. Clear night tonight. Not even a lingering hazy of smoke from the boys’ cheap firecrackers.

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary.”

Billy danced around in front of her, walking backwards as she strode ahead.

“Why do you want both of us to feel like shit?” he prodded. “Downstairs… we were… We were getting somewhere, dammit. What do you want from me? You want me to like you, then hate you, then like you, then hate you! Do I have to say it again?”

“Just get in the Nest. I’ll blow you if you’re lucky,” she said dryly.

Billy backed into the little room’s door and crossed his arms.

“No. I love you.”

Petra sighed impatiently.

“You wanna get laid or not?”

“Be a bitch all you like,” he said. “I’m still going to make you see this is worth something. That’s why I want it to be good. You’re not helping yourself by putting that mask back on.”

She clenched her hands into firm fists, but when she went to hammer one into Billy’s chest, all the force went out of it. Her knuckles just barely dug into his skin. His heart pounded back from underneath. They didn’t stare at each other long before Billy surged forward and kissed her.

“I love you, Pet,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“A light touch,” she offered, meeting his eyes as he drew his face back to look at her. “I’m tired of being used and abused.”

“Light touch,” he confirmed. “Got it.”

Petra took one last look at the stars, then reached around where Billy had leaned away from the door and yanked it open by its stiff handle. They entered and he found a box filled with broken bottles to keep the door ajar for the luxury of late-night, city sign light and fresh air. It still smelled like beer and something even funkier, though thankfully not like urine as the only Rats nasty enough to piss up here (all males, go fucking figure) considerately did so off the edge of the roof, hitting the occasional unsuspecting pedestrian.

Billy was watching her and Petra felt insulated with him for the second time tonight, though the first had only been an illusion provided by the music.

“This is a good idea,” he told her.

“The best.”

They were kissing again and Billy was up to his old tricks, getting every little bit of feeling out of her lips and doing it as tenderly as possible. She was insane for liking him this way, Petra realized, because only liking him was going to make her life hell. It would torment her days, find her in her sleep. He’d be kissing her like this in her dreams, the prick. She knew he would.

His hands were gentle too. Clutching at her waist, but moving eagerly to her breasts when Petra tugged the top of her dress down. (Her attackers had declared that the black straps of the bra she’d had on completely ruined this wedding cake vision they’d made of her. Like the rest of her other outfit, she bet the bra was currently bobbing in a toilet bowl.) She wondered if guys could really be like this, on the condition that they were sufficiently surprised to be getting what they wanted…

Nah, they were trash. But not Billy. His hands were warm on her as they dug inside the dress and cupped her boobs. Petra inhaled sharply through her nose when his rough thumbs circled her nipples with inhumane slowness. Her breath came loud in the small space. It felt as though they were miles from the school, or anything.

Billy gave her a last, firm kiss on the mouth, then continued pressing them into her yielding skin; up under her jaw, down her throat. Her heart beat hard. Like a total amateur, Petra gave herself away by grabbing the back of Billy’s mohawk when he smoothly licked over her nipple, but he didn’t get aggressive. He was the perfect gentleman, if that’s what you called the spastic boy you took to the blowjob spot. He was her new definition, anyway.

“Touch me already,” she blurted.

He laughed.

“Just trying to do what you said.”

“I said light, not slow.”

“That’s part of the romance,” Billy informed her, hiking up the hem of her dress.

“It sucks.”

“Thank you.”

He ran his palms up the outside of her thighs and she got goosebumps. Trying to stay calm, Petra put her hands on his shoulders―a stabilizing gesture.

“You seem taller,” she said nervously. Billy just smiled in confusion.

His hands brushed very gently over her hips and the ratty black lace of her underwear. They were a little old, but Petra hadn’t seen any she liked as much as these, and she wasn’t just going to steal cheap ones. She had standards. Better standards for what went on her body than who went in her body, most of the time. But then, tonight, she was getting it on with Billy while wearing something so truly hideous that Petra would’ve tried to murder herself if she’d been someone else and seen her wearing it.

“You look really beautiful. Nothing to do with what they did,” Billy clarified, palms rubbing over her hips, dress frothed up outrageously between them, “just… your face.”

She exhaled as he snagged her panties around hooked fingers and dragged them down.

“Lift your feet,” he requested.

“Why?” she asked, already doing it.

“Well, it’s not like the ground’s spotless and these…” He bent and retrieve them as she stepped out. “…cover a pretty sensitive area.”

It was bizarrely intimate to see Billy holding her undergarments and Petra glared so as not to blush. Prick.

“What am I supposed to do with them now? I’m lacking the over-teased heap of chemically-enlarged hair that I assume Brandy uses to solve feminine problems such as these.”

Billy shrugged.

“I’ll keep ‘em,” he offered cheerfully, stuffing her wadded up underwear into the back pocket of his pants.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Just for right now.”

“Or longer.”

“For as long as you last,” she taunted.

“I will give you the opportunity to renegotiate possession after you’ve seen me last.”

Petra let out an exaggerated, sarcastic gasp.

“Gosh! Really?”

He smiled and then leaned into her, pinning her firmly to the wall. She was pretty sure Billy felt her smile when they kissed, so she bit his lip to balance the scales. Once again, he somehow knew she didn’t mean it and was not deterred. That was how Petra realized she hadn’t broken Billy’s heart properly back at the party. Or maybe she had and he was just a quick healer. The rough cast pressing into her shoulder was a decent reminder.

“When do you get this off anyway?” she asked, touching the cast, then grazing her fingers up the black sleeve covering his arm above it.

“You almost sound like you care,” he accused, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Petra gave him an acid look.

“I’m asking for the sake of my own comfort, dweeb. If we do this again, I don’t wanna feel your plaster digging into me. Shut up,” she said to his awed expression. “I said ‘if.’”

Billy smiled and went back to kissing her. Petra kept her mouth tense and unyielding, but only for a couple of seconds. If Frenching was the kind of thing they graded at this wacko school, this idiot might actually come top of the class. She gave up on just going through the motions and fully gave back to him everything he was giving her, her arms folded around the back of his neck. Billy moaned a little and tilted his hips into her.

“Go ahead,” she panted, breaking away.

He pulled his face back just far enough that her eyes didn’t un-focus when they looked into his. Lowering one hand, then the other, he bunched the skirt of the world’s ugliest dress back into position. She could feel the texture of his pants against her thighs, but he kept his hips back now. Staring steadily into his eyes, Petra leisurely unwrapped her arms from around him and caressed down the front of his army-green T-shirt. Billy shivered and she smirked a little. She popped his button and unzipped his fly without glancing away from his face. He, meanwhile, was doing an exemplary job of not ogling her boobs. The heat from his crotch was practically enough to toast a marshmallow by, but Petra didn’t touch him yet.

“You first,” she dared.

With a visible swallow, Billy fisted the material of her skirt in one hand and slipped the other beneath it. Tentative fingertips located the poke of her hipbone. She didn’t know if he was aiming high and right on purpose, or just curious about her. Petra wondered, for a second, what it would be like to have her entire body touched by him. She wondered how it would be to touch his. The Rats’ Nest was no place for total nudity, unless you wanted to see what kind of diseases you could contract.

She stepped one foot outward, then the other. Billy took a shaky breath and inched his fingers down to cup her. It nearly killed her―worse than being stabbed, poisoned, strangled, or any of the other shit that had been done during real fights or just over the course of gaining the stellar education Kings was supposedly providing. This absolutely asshole! With his unhurried tenderness and goddamn reverent expression. Petra’s head knocked back against the concrete wall. He hadn’t even done anything yet. This was all the mere fact of his hand’s position; feeling it and knowing it was there.

The large studs on the cuff around his wrist were cold when they made contact with her abdomen, but she was pleased to have him holding her closer, more securely. It was almost like claustrophobia―this light-headedness in a small space―as Billy’s seeking fingers spread arousal over her clit. Petra thought he might mock her for being so wet (it was something she might have done, to pierce the atmosphere choking her with meaningfulness). He didn’t.

If it was up to her to play the mean card, she’d have to make a crack about how hard he was already, how desperate. Except it wasn’t funny, even in a make-fun-of-him way, when Petra gripped Billy through his underwear. He let out a shuddering exhale, clamping his eyes closed and flashing them open again a second later.

“Could you lay off that for a second?” he requested, sounding a little lightheaded himself. “This is kinda already too good to be true, and I don’t want to prematurely ejaculate all over our, you know―”

“Romance,” they said at the same time. (His tone was a little less sarcastic than hers. Ok, a lot.)

Billy grinned and kissed her with a swift peck that bumped Petra’s skull against concrete. This was still Billy, after all. But then, yes, he did have some surprises.

“I hope your hands are clean,” she said seriously as she moved her fingers to his ragged belt loops and he rubbed a little faster across her clit.

“I went to the bathroom right before we stormed the dance, and I always wash my hands. I’m a classy guy.”

Petra snorted out air, but her inhale was all moan. He was hitting her just right. She hadn’t… she hadn’t even told him what to do. If he’d just stroke the tiniest bit to the left. God, he did it.

“What’s your secret?” she gasped.

“Huh?”

She shook her head to tell him nevermind, because she was coming, stretching up on her toes in the stupid shoes that were the only things between her feet and a dirty needle or ancient glob of gum. Billy rubbed more forcefully―and swore significantly more forcefully than that―to pull her through the orgasm and out the other side. Petra didn’t specifically remember closing her eyes, or letting her head slump forward to rest on Billy’s shoulder, but evidently, those things had happened, because here she was, breathing his scent off his T-shirt.

Slowly, he removed his hand, wiping his fingers on the ass of his pants. Petra’s eyes were wide now, staring hard at nothing as she kept her head down for a minute longer, mentally getting a hold of herself. He’d touched her lightly, like she’d said. He’d paid attention to her response and adjusted his technique (though it truly baffled her to think of Billy having a technique for anything―except maybe rolling a joint) accordingly. What could she do… what could she say to that?

“I lied,” Petra admitted. She raised her head and pushed her hair the correct amount off her face.

“Well,” Billy began, smoothing a hand down her arm, “if it’s about something that’s gonna tear my heart to pieces, could you maybe save the truth for later?”

“I like rough and fast,” she said, holding eye contact. “In the past, I’ve tended to be the dominant partner because guys see the black hair, and the black clothes, and the black makeup, and that’s who they want to think I am because they don’t give a shit about who I actually am. But I’m not some Goth fantasy who wants their sexual experiences to revolve around teasing out some asshole’s kinks―a surprising amount of time literally involving their assholes. And I hate light touches,” Petra added. “Usually. Except not with… I guess not with you.”

He was staring at her. He wouldn’t quit staring at her. She was going to have to drive the heel of her horrible shoe into the top of his foot. Then he did something worse than the staring. He said her name, softly.

“Petra.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck like she had when they’d danced and kissed him. He held her―tight, then tighter. Something was surging inside her and it wasn’t the desire to maim that she constantly felt around almost every person inside the building they were standing on top of. This whole thing had been a very dangerous fever dream.

They were kissing fiercely and it terrified Petra, but it was a horror she wanted to wrap herself around. She tasted it, her tongue twined with Billy’s, and nothing had ever been sweeter. Restless, she twisted with and against him, getting her hands to his hips. They broke the kiss wetly and abruptly. Petra stretched the band of Billy’s underwear away from his abdomen, then yanked them and his jeans downward. He leaned back―just his upper body.

“You want me, take me,” she said. “I want you to.”

Billy nodded rapidly and Petra found herself nodding back. She was turning in his arms as he quickly lifted her heinous skirt again. His hand came around, feeling her waist, then dove down, seeking her from the front as his hot erection prodded from behind. With less reluctance than she would’ve had not high on lust, Petra slapped her hands to the well-tagged wall and tilted her hips back. Billy quickly drove in. He was blunt and spontaneous and he started to say something, but Petra reached back and covered his mouth. No apologies necessary for giving her this. She returned her hand to the wall as he dragged back out.

“Oh, Jesus, Petra.”

His breathing sounded shivery. He bucked forward and she stretched into the feeling. Finally, Billy gave up on keeping her dress out of the way and grasped her hips with both hands.

“Please,” whipped out of her mouth before she could press it into her arm. Arms were useful tools for self-defence, physical or verbal, but she didn’t want the first kind and the second had just failed her.

Billy thrust harder and Petra’s eyelids closed briefly as her eyes rolled back. On the next forward swing of his hips, she met him in time and they released an obscene duet of pleased moans. God, they’d circled each other for so long―him: bouncing up and down, her: still and largely silent. Now, Petra considered that she shouldn’t think so harshly about his neglect to anticipate attacks. She’d been blind here. Blind, blind, blind.

She struggled to keep her eyes open. Her nerves were catching and sparking like exposed wiring, hands tensing into fists before she flattened her palms back out on the wall. Billy was in the grips of his desire. He had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body to his, and the other making the descent to her clit, which was not so easy now that he was pounding into her, shaking them both. Petra felt his hip bones when he thrust inside and held himself there for a long second. It seemed like he was pushing as hard as he could, feeling all of her, every time. Her spine felt like he’d scratched a match straight down the length.

There was a desperate noise, a needy whimper, and Petra couldn’t place it.

“I know,” Billy told the sound. “I know, I know.” His voice cracked into a groan of craving that made her squeeze around him greedily. “I can’t… much longer.”

Petra dropped one palm from the wall and fumbled for his hand, settling his fingers optimally on her clit. He scrubbed violently and she came in seconds. Yes, he listened, and no, he did not fuck around. The orgasm left her reeling and quaking. She couldn’t tell if she was hot or cold, up or down. Billy kept stroking at her until she moved his hand away. Somehow, their fingers stayed tangled together as he tucked this arm around her too, hugging her from behind. The texture of the cast didn’t matter so much now.

“No condom, I’m guessing,” Petra said as dryly as she could while he continued to do things to her that made her jump and angle her hips for more.

“When am I ever ready for anything?” he panted, laughter just underneath.

She thought quickly as Billy’s thrusts grew shallow.

“On the dress,” she said.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He pulled out and Petra turned quickly to face him, smoothing the skirt down for a change, to ensure it received the most coverage possible. She was less prepared for watching Billy jerk himself off, and apparently, so was Billy, his eyes a little wild and afraid. Petra slowly looked him up and down, then reached out and slid his t-shirt up his stomach to see more skin. He didn’t stop stroking.

“You look good,” she said, holding his gaze carefully.

Billy’s eyes clamped shut and his forehead crumpled. Petra guided his free hand up to her breast; he gripped. She felt a wave of flush go over her skin as he released in a jagged jet along the skirt. The top was undone anyway, so Petra wriggled out of the rest of it while Billy leaned into her, then hauled him close. She was naked, apart from her shoes.

While her hands climbed up his back under his t-shirt, Billy hiked his pants up and delicately tucked himself back in. Then he fell against her the last tiny bit of the way, his weight pushing her to the wall. Petra laughed and stroked the back of his mohawk flat, then clawed it back the other way with her fingers.

“How long are you gonna let me hold you?” he asked after a minute, speaking into her hair.

Petra turned her face to his shoulder and smiled.

“Until I think of some other way to cover myself. I’m not putting that dress back on.”

“Oh!” He let go of her. “Hang on.”

With a twitchy motion, Billy shrugged out of his black button-down shirt. It got hung up on his cast, so he rotated his arm while tugging the sleeve; Petra stood there, arms crossed over her chest. Shyly, he extended the shirt to her and she slipped into it, noticing him completely turn his head to look away. She buttoned it up. The fact that the shirt would cover her ass solved part of the problem.

Billy’s gaze squiggled over her quickly when he faced her again. His mouth tensed, probably trying to contain a smile. With a steady hand, Petra touched his cheek and lightly kissed his lips.

“I know how we get you out of here,” Billy said, his smile appearing slowly, at the same speed his eyes opened as she drew back.

He reached an arm back and hooked the neck of his t-shirt from behind, tugging it awkwardly over his head. When he got his elbows trapped and started to flail, Petra assisted his escape.

“How is this helping?” she checked, unconsciously clutching his shirt to her stomach.

“Streaking, Pet!”

“Oh god,” she groaned, but as she thought about it, she knew it would work. Mr. ‘I Climb Over Tables Instead of Walking Around Them’ was good at attracting attention.

She gave a half-nod, but Billy was already yanking his pants down, too committed to his harebrained plan to think about her agreeing or not. He caught her looking as he lowered his underwear.

“Next time,” he informed her, “we’re doing my favourite position.”

Petra was still trying to deaden the look in her eyes and keep her gaze over his left shoulder. She sighed heavily for effect.

“Fine. What is it?”

He grinned.

“Missionary.”

Startling herself, Petra let a laugh burst out and shoved Billy by the shoulder, almost toppling him as he idiotically attempted to remove his clothes without taking his shoes off. (Not that she blamed him for keeping protective footwear in place. Fucking Rats’ Nest.)

“You’re not serious,” she shot back.

“You’ll find out.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and straightened up. “Uh, can you hang onto these for me?”

She accepted the rest of his clothes, wadded into a sloppy ball.

“The panties, uh…” Billy floundered.

“You’ll get them back with everything else,” Petra promised. What the hell.

He grinned again.

“Also, next time, condoms.”

She raised an eyebrow. Not at his second use of ‘next time’ though. For Petra, that had been decided before she’d hit the first orgasm. Maybe even before they’d gotten up to the roof.

“You’re not actually going to buy them, are you?”

Billy scoffed, swinging his arms, naked apart from his sneakers, already almost in motion.

“What do you take me for? Some capitalist dupe? I’ll steal ‘em like a good boy.”

“What a relief,” she said.

“What is?”

“Just, you.”

He blushed.

“’K, if we ever wanna do this again, I gotta run.” Billy sprang forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Petra. Gimme a head start.”

She stood in the Rats’ Nest doorway, holding Billy’s clothes, and watched his bare ass as he bolted for the stairway. He flung the door open and pounded away down the stairs screeching ‘London Calling’ at the top of his lungs.

Glancing at the dress she’d intentionally walked across on her way out, Petra smiled wickedly at the thought that she could come back up here and burn it. Maybe bring Billy.

Quietly, she hopped the box of broken bottles and ran to the stairs, heading for her dorm. Billy’s voice was echoing everywhere. She wondered what trouble she was going to have to help him fight his way out of when Master Lin picked his punishment. Moron just had to be a hero.

#my writing #rats' waltz #deadly class #billy bennett #petra yolga #billy x petra #petra x billy #billy bennett x petra yolga #petra yolga x billy bennett #fanfiction #deadly class fanfiction #deadly class fanfic

11 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 6 years

Text

Everything I Do

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: This chapter is based on a prompt I got a while back from a dear reader who wanted ‘Everything I do (I do for you)’ by Bryan Adams. The prompt came some time ago so I cannot remember if it had an accompanying scene suggestion, but in listening to the song again I thought this would be perfect for some future CS fluff. I know I write these all the time, but with the series finale recently I have had a lot of messages requesting more domestic CS cuteness. Hopefully this story delivers (though full disclosure I did NOT watch the finale, so I may be writing things that couldn’t have ever been cannon). Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

“So let me get this straight. You called me here for what exactly?”

Emma’s question was posed to a very irritated Granny who currently stood behind the counter at the diner with an expression of contempt. If looks could kill Leroy would be in serious trouble, but try as she might Emma couldn’t understand how anything he’d actually done merited a call to the sheriff.

“I called you to drag his sorry butt out of here, that’s what,” Granny snarled as her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive way.

“Why?!” Leroy yelled, now fully disrupting every other diner in the place. “I simply pointed out the fact that for someone who dishes it out constantly you can’t take any criticism.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you,” Granny retorted looking poised to pounce as Emma raised her hands between them.

“All right that’s enough. Look, Granny, the diner is yours and you legally have a right to refuse service to anyone,” Emma said, prompting Granny to grin smugly. “But I’m also guessing it won’t be a lucrative turn of events if Leroy gets the rest of the band to stop coming here.”

“That’s right, sister. We run this town,” Leroy said and Emma rolled her eyes.

“That’s a stretch,” Emma responded so everyone could hear her before she dipped her voice lower to chastise Leroy personally. “Especially since you were dumb enough to tell Granny how you actually feel about the lasagna.”

“Hey, she asked,” Leroy replied and Emma shook her head, wondering how this dispute possibly fell into her job description.

“What would it take to call this even, Granny?” Emma asked, trying her hardest not to look at her watch to see how much time she’d already wasted.

“Fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks?!” Leroy exclaimed, completely affronted though Emma had seen the monetary demand coming from a mile away.

“Twenty,” Emma countered and Granny considered before agreeing.

“Twenty and he apologizes publically.”

“Deal,” Emma said as Leroy looked liable to disagree. Now it was Emma’s turn to level him with a look that bode of worse things ahead if he resisted and finally Leroy sighed, doling out the cash and making a show of standing on a stool and drawing everyone’s attention.

“Granny, I’m sorry I said the town could save money on cement for the new storm shelter by using your lasagna. Will you please forgive me?”

Granny stood there smiling like the cat that caught the canary as she counted out the bills he’d forked over, making sure that all was accounted for. Then she looked up through her glasses and chuckled at how ridiculous Leroy looked.

“Yeah. Now get your dirty feet off my stool.”

“Looks like my work here is done,” Emma said as she accepted a cocoa to go from Granny and headed for the door.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she made it out into the late spring afternoon, Emma finally let herself marvel at the strangeness of the moment. This was her life now at work – there was no more saving the town from curses or villainous foes or unknown big bads. In this prolonged time of peace, where the monsters were all safely tucked in the rearview mirror with no signs of every coming back again, the troubles of their tiny town were unremarkable and predictable. Emma was certain another such flare up of tempers would come about in the next week, but she was grateful that she no longer had to be the savior every five minutes. Being a working Mom with two little ones and a husband at home was more than enough to occupy her time.

Just the thought of home and of her family made Emma smile. She allowed herself to check her watch now that she was away from curious gazes, finding it was nearly time to return to Killian, Hope, and their youngest, little Liam. All she had to do was head to the station and drop off her radio and her gun and she’d be all set to head back home to another night filled with her daughter’s imaginary friends, her son’s adorable babblings, a lovely family dinner, a Disney movie, and some stories before bed. It would be exhausting, but Emma was also well-versed enough in this routine to know it would still be wonderful. Having her family safe and together was all she ever needed to find real and true happiness, and she could hardly wait to get back to them. But little did she know she’d be seeing them sooner than expected.

“Mommy!” a tiny voice she knew was Hope’s cried out as Emma rounded the corner to the station.

Emma stopped short, finding the three people she was looking forward to seeing all here waiting for her instead of being at home where she assumed they would be. Hope sprinted from where she held Killian’s hand to come hug her, moving so fast for a four year old it made Emma think they had a real athlete on their hands. The impact of her daughter’s hug had Emma exhaling a breath but she laughed at Hope’s enthusiasm before swinging her up in her arms and looking back at where Killian was holding their little boy on his hip.

“What are you guys doing here?” Emma asked, aiming the question at her husband who stepped up beside her and kissed her cheek. In the end though Hope interjected before Killian could offer explanation.

“We’re surprising you, Mommy!”

“Well this is a surprise, and I love it,” Emma said, nuzzling her face into Hope’s light brown curls before kissing her daughter’s temple. Hope giggled at the contact and shook her head.

“This isn’t the surprise, silly. It’s at home.”

“Let me guess, this surprise was Daddy’s idea, wasn’t it?” Emma asked, sending Killian a look that said she was onto him. This was so like him, planning something to make her smile or brighten her day even though there was no apparent reason. Today wasn’t an anniversary or a birthday – there was no calendar event specifying a need for some over the top gesture – but her pirate was notorious for gifting her with perfect stolen moments all the same.

“Mhmm,” Hope said before clarifying. “But Liam and I helped.”

“That you did, little love,” Killian said to Hope as Emma let her back on the ground and took Liam in her arms as they walked into the station. “And I was very glad to have my first lieutenant assisting me today.”

“Well why don’t we go see whatever it is?” Emma asked as her son cooed happily in her arms before cuddling into her. God he was so sweet – and Emma highly suspected that where his sister would be wild and fierce-spirited, Liam would be a bit more reserved as he grew older. He was a quieter, far more mild-tempered baby, and he had a way of wrapping everyone around his tiny little finger. But first impressions were known to be deceiving, and Emma was certain that someday Liam would have all his father’s charm and wit and propensity for adventure.

“Because tonight we’re taking the kids,” Emma’s father said, beaming as Hope made a run for him now, giving him just as much love as she’d given Emma minutes ago.

“You are?” Emma asked confused.

“They are, Swan,” Killian whispered, assuring her that he’d put this whole plan in motion for a reason. “Just think, a whole night with you and I alone.”

Emma shivered at the thought, her eyes stuck on Killian’s as her mind raced with the possibility. She and Killian had grown accustomed to taking their moments where they could. As parents raising two kids under five it was hard to find time for passion, but they always managed to find a way. That being said, a whole night without little ones in ear shot made a whole multitude of scenarios possible, and Emma let her mind linger on some of the more delicious ideas before clearing her throat and trying to pull herself together in front of her parents.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Emma asked her mother who had come to take Liam with a giant grin on her face.

“Oh Emma, you know better than to ask that. Now you two go on, and we’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”

With that last bit of reassurance, Emma slipped her hand into her husband’s and the two of them walked back along the Storybrooke streets until they finally made it home. From the outside, there was nothing that looked amiss. Their house was just as picturesque and charming as it ever was, but Emma knew she was in for something special as Killian opened up the door for her. She moved inside their home and despite her knowing something was coming, she still gasped when she came into contact with the surprise that lay in store.

“Killian, you did all this?” Emma asked, looking at their living room, which was usually somewhat a mess with the kids’ playthings. Now it was nothing but perfectly clean, making room for an assortment of unexpected flowers. It was a wild collection, with daisies and buttercups and blooms of purple and pink and blue Emma didn’t recognize. It made the whole house smell of springtime, and Emma couldn’t contain the smile as her hand came to Killian’s chest, resting just above his heart.

“With a little help,” Killian said happily. “But this is just the beginning, Swan. The real surprise is out back.”

Emma didn’t know what to think as they moved through the house. Each room was filled with a similar display. The banister upstairs had a string of white Christmas lights attached now, and every so often there were posters she could tell were from the kids. They had the tell tale squiggle of Hope’s little hands, or the perfectly smudged finger paint mess that Liam was becoming famous for. Her youngest son did love his paints, and his Dad loved seeing him happy, no matter what kind of mess he made. But as they made it out the back door and onto the porch Emma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This – right here – was totally and completely unprecedented.

“Oh my gosh,” Emma said shaking her head in disbelief and looking back and forth between Killian’s handsome face and the sight before her. “It’s like that field in Camelot, only…”

“Only this time there’s no battle against eternal darkness, and no close calls or terrible choices to be made. There’s only one choice – the comfort of sameness or a bit of adventure?”

“Wait what?” Emma asked laughing as she tore her gaze from the garden full of pink roses that had to be magically enhanced somehow.

“For dinner, Swan. Tonight is about you so the decision is yours – do we stick with what we know and what we like, or do we take a little risk?”

Emma pretended to consider the option critically. She should, arguably, be looking for adventure. After all, who better to engage in such risk taking with than her husband and ever-faithful pirate? But Emma couldn’t deny that she loved things that were familiar. Routine was a comfort to her in so many ways, because after a lifetime of never feeling settled and never feeling secure, she finally had that and so much more.

“Would you hate me if I played it safe?” Emma asked and Killian shook his head.

“We both know I could never hate you, love. Besides, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“You were?”

“Well of course I was. Don’t you remember the last time we tried being adventurous with food? I can’t so much as think the word ‘sushi’ without a wave of dread washing over me.”

Emma laughed at the reminder of a night not too long ago when everyone had been together – their whole big extended family gathering after too many weeks apart. Henry had suggested they do something different and he’d worked so hard to make everyone Japanese food that was loved the world over, but where Emma had worried that it was the kids who would hate the cuisine before them, it was Killian. He claimed he’d eaten all kinds of unsavory things in his day but he had never and would never eat an uncooked fish wrapped in seaweed. Instead he’d eaten rice and then when they were home he’d cooked up some fish for himself and insisted that this was as it should be before Emma finally convinced him to go to sleep and put it all behind him.

“How brave of you then to offer us a chance at something different,” Emma joked.

“I like to think so,” Killian said as he revealed the meal that was already made which included – unsurprisingly – grilled cheese. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a hero…”

“But if the leather jacket fits,” Emma teased as she pulled him in by the collar of his jacket, watching his own easy-going amusement melt into something more passionate. God she loved this man, and she loved how much he loved her in return. There was never any denying the fact that they were in this together, and Emma knew her heart couldn’t be safer with another person.

“Your words say you like my jacket, love, but your eyes are saying you’d rather see me without it.”

“Maybe I would,” Emma agreed, her fingertips trailing down his chest and over the shirt he wore underneath. “But you planned a special night for me, so for now the jacket stays. I can’t go wasting your grand gestures – not when I know I can’t ever return them.”

“Never return them?” Killian asked as Emma’s eyes darted downwards. Seconds later his hook came up to turn her face back up towards his and she saw in his expression an eager need to clear the air. “Emma, you have given me everything. Because of you, I have a life a man could never dream of having. You rescued me from darkness, brought me to hope, gave me a family, and loved me even at the moments when that love could not be earned.”

“You did the same for me,” Emma whispered as Killian smiled softly.

“Aye, perhaps in some ways. But it’s different, love, as you well know. I was never supposed to have this. I was lost a lot longer than you were, and I was that way by choice, not merely circumstance. Now though, I am anything but lost and that’s your doing, Emma. I can’t explain in words what that means to me, all I know is everything I do, I do for you, and doing things like this,” he motioned at the scene around them. “It’s just a small token of my love for you. A tiny attempt to show you all that you are to me.”

Knowing that the happy tears in her eyes would pretty much make speech impossible, Emma decided to show her husband just how much his words, that he claimed couldn’t be enough, meant to her. She pulled him down for a kiss, one that poured all of her feeling and love and gratitude for the man he was and the life they had together. It was steamy and heated, treading at the line between decency and the seduction that she wanted. It was everything they hadn’t been able to have in Camelot because her life had been in shambles and everything was a mess. But that wasn’t their life now. Now they were at that promised fairy tale ending, though they were lucky enough to know an end was nowhere in sight. Emma smiled as they pulled away from each other, believing in her heart she had years and years of such moments with Killian left. The thought of that filled her with immense joy and satisfaction.

“You know I’ll always love you, right?” Emma asked as her hand came up to cup his cheek. “It’s you and me, forever.”

“Forever,” Killian agreed before sealing that promise with another kiss that took her breath away.

And though Emma was eager to let the passion between her and Killian escalate, they decided it would be best to enjoy their magical moment together first. Out there among the roses, they watched the world around them shift from day to night. The sun slipped lower and lower in the sky, coloring the sky in vibrant shades before the stars came out to greet them. In all that time, they feeling nothing but peace and joy and love, but the best part of all of it was that they had each other. For no matter what happened – and no matter where this happily ever after may go next – their love would always be the most important thing, providing them and their family with everything they could ever want or need.

……………..

Look into my eyes You will see What you mean to me Search your heart Search your soul And when you find me there, you'll search no more Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for You know it's true Everything I do I do it for you Look into your heart You will find There's nothin' there to hide Take me as I am Take my life I would give it all, I would sacrifice Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more You know it's true Everything I do I do it for you There's no love Like your love And no other Could give more love There's nowhere Unless you're there All the time All the way, yeah Look into your heart, baby Oh your can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for I can't help it there's nothin' I want more Yeah, I would fight for you I lie for you Walk the wire for you, yeah, I'd die for you You know it's true Everything I do Oh I do it for you Everything I do, darling And we'll see it through Oh we'll see it through Oh yeah Yeah Look into your heart You can't tell me it ain't worth dying for Oh yeah I'll be there, yeah I'll walk the wire for you I will die for you Oh yeah I would die for you I'm going all the way, all they way, yeah

Post-Note: So there we have it – another fluffy oneshot in the books. I have absolutely done chapters like this before, but truth be told it soothes my soul to write such cuteness so I have no regrets at all. To my reader who suggested this song, I thank you so so much! And to all of you still missing the show and mourning its end, I hope this fic has helped in some small way. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179

Tagging a couple of people who asked/requested this fic: @teamhook @coliferoncer

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs ff #cs fic #cs fluff #cs oneshow #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #cs future fic #cs kids #hope jones #The Jones Family #the captain swan mixtape #captain swan mixtape fic #prompted fic #everything i do

38 notes · View notes

doomandgloomfromthetomb · 6 years

Photo

On the Verge of Collapse: An Interview with Steve Wynn (2002)

Another Sunday interview from way back when. I met up with Steve one summer evening before his show at the late/lamented TT the Bear’s club in Cambridge. What a nice guy! Have you checked out the recent Dream Syndicate reunion record? It's a winner!

For the past 20 years, Steve Wynn has been making passionate, inventive music, both as a solo artist and with bands such as the Dream Syndicate and Gutterball. Last year, however, Wynn may have topped himself once and for all with the sprawling double disc set Here Come The Miracles (Blue Rose Records), which combined his hard-boiled songwriting with epic guitar workouts and brutal garage rock rhythms.

Wynn was wrapping up an almost year-long tour in support of Miracles at TT the Bear's (a rock club in Cambridge, MA) when I caught up with him. The show Wynn and his incendiary touring band put on that night was an explosive, joyous celebration, featuring a good chunk of tunes from Miracles, as well as a few choice Dream Syndicate nuggets. Beforehand, we talked about where he's been, where he's going and the timeless essence of the guitar record.

I'm going to start with my most conceptual question.

Oh, good.

A couple of years ago I read an essay you wrote—I actually can't remember where I read it now—but it was about your personal criteria for what makes a "classic" album. One of the criteria that struck me the most was your idea that great music should be "on the verge of collapse," that there had to be some sort of danger present in the music. Can you expand a little on that idea?

I think my favorite records, and the best music, really, are the things that are not fully formed, where things are a little bit not quite right, a little bit messed up, where there are a few cracks here and there. Because it shows a human side. I like the feeling that what you're hearing happened that way one time and could never happen that way any other time. You're hearing a unique moment in history.

When records are polished too much, when you can hear all the work that went into them, all of a sudden it just sounds like a factory spitting out some kind of product. I like that feeling of danger—that sense that things could fall apart at any second. You feel like "Man, I don't know how they held it together, but they did it." And you feel it—that excitement—from hearing that kind of music. It's not a quality I've had in every one of my records. It's a quality I've had in all my favorite records, and I've realized that recently. With Here Come The Miracles, I think I got it all the way.

So is that sense of danger something you can consciously recreate in the studio or is it just something that happens randomly?

Well, if you go in and have that great session, that magic moment or that fantastic day or week or month or whatever, and you get it on tape and put it out the way it is, it's a great artifact. But you can't invent a moment. You can't invent a perfect artifact. The sessions I've had that I've been most frustrated with have been those where I chased down some type of moment, where we've almost had it, but we replaced guitars and the bass and the vocals. And eventually we might get something really cool, but we also might get some kind of patchwork thing that sounds like nothing. So, for me, the best records I've made were just where that moment happened. You can't force it to happen.

Also, as you get older and you make more records and have more experience, you want to do what you do better than you've ever done it before. So there's that temptation to say: "We can get a better drum sound, we can get a better guitar solo." That's a dangerous trap to fall into. The philosophy I had [with Here Come The Miracles] was "Sometimes better isn't better." And it's true. You can improve everything, but is that gonna make something more exciting, more interesting, more listenable, more long-lasting? Probably not.

Does it depend on the players, or is it the circumstances—were you are at certain point in your life?

All of those things. This record worked particularly well because all the players on it were people I had played with for a long time and we trusted each other and understood each other. We had a history together. But then again, another record that worked really well was Melting in the Dark. I made that a few years back with Come, here in Boston. That record, we barely knew each other, but it worked because we were all trying to impress each other. We were relating to each other, but I didn't know them that well and they didn't know me that well. So it's hard to say. There's no magic formula. I wish there was. Because then, you know, I'd do it every time.

Here Come The Miracles has been out for over a year now, right? Are you pleased with the response it's generated?

Extremely. Extremely.

Does the response seem different than other records? I know you're no stranger to critical acclaim, but this one has gotten a lot of attention.

Yeah, I've made, at the most, probably about a half dozen records in my life that have gotten this kind of response. There were the first couple Dream Syndicate records, the first Gutterball record, maybe Melting in the Dark. [Those records] are the handful of records that everybody got into, where everybody understood it and liked it. But I've seen very few bad reviews on this new record. Which is nice, but it also puts the pressure on the next one. By now I know to be ready for the backlash, but you never know.

You said you're always trying to top yourself. Is that something that's always in the back of your mind when you start recording a new album?

Yes, and in the past I've always made records in reaction to the previous one. A lot of times I'll try to go in the opposite direction entirely. On the next record I may not do that. I'm not going to make a carbon copy [of Here Come The Miracles], but I am going to record with the same people, just because it went so well. I want to see what else we can get out of that.

Yeah, even though Miracles is credited to Steve Wynn, it really sounds like a "band" record, just in terms of cohesiveness and focus. Is that a goal for you, that band sound?

Almost always. My first couple solo records weren't that way. I think that was because I'd been playing in a band for so long and I wanted to try playing with a whole bunch of people. Both Kerosene Man and Dazzling Display had that real patchwork kind of feel to them, like—"this song we're gonna have this kind of guitar, this song we're gonna have a sitar or whatever"—just all the things I never had in a band. But aside from those two records, everything I've ever done has been in a band situation; whether it was solo, whether it was Gutterball, whether it was Dream Syndicate, it's always been a band. Every record I've made since those two albums, I've put together a group of people that I enjoy playing with. Even though it's my name on the cover, we approached the record like a band covering my songs.

Was it always your intent to make a double album?

Oh no, not until the record was done. We did a ten-day session down in Tucson and then waited about a month to do some overdubs, and then we waited a bit longer. And in that time I kept trying to figure out which songs to keep, which songs to get rid of and no matter what I did, I kept coming back to the fact that all the songs belonged together. When I made it into a single record, it got worse rather than better. The way it came out finally, there's a lot of variety there, and it just made more sense to do a sprawling record like that.

Obviously, a lot of Here Come The Miracles is inspired by the state of California. A lot of songs have references to that, different place names pop up throughout. Is there something in particular about California that inspires you as a songwriter?

You know, it's funny, because I hadn't really written about California for a long time. I moved away years ago, I moved to New York in '94. I never really thought that much about writing about California, but for some reason the theme ran through a lot of the songs. It wasn't a "concept" album at all, but the songs all started being about California, I don't know why.

I like a lot of noir literature, which is a very California thing—Raymond Chandler, James Ellroy and all that. That's not all I read by any means, but it is something I like. That kind of thing makes more sense in a California setting than it does in a New York setting. But, then again, other records I've made have been very Southern—the Gutterball records had a lot of things about the South on them. But once I saw the California thing happening on this record, it made it easier to write the rest of the songs.

Speaking of California, maybe we can talk a little about one of the great southern California bands: the Dream Syndicate. The Days of Wine and Roses was reissued by Rhino Records last year. Does it surprise you how well that album has stood up over the last 20 years?

No, it doesn't surprise me at all. It's a great record. And I say that without being boastful. When we made the record, we knew it was good. The day we finished it, I took the finished mix of it and drove to my day job and listened to it, and I said: "This is it. This is all I've ever wanted to do." I wanted to make a record like this one time. I thought, "I could quit now and be happy."

I knew it then, and it's held up very well. It's a very natural, real, emotional, organic kind of record. It wasn't of the time. It's not of any time. It wasn't in fashion then. We were against the grain for '82, so it's equally in and out of fashion now as it was then.

It does just seem that a "guitar" record like that does have a timeless quality about it. You'd think that would go out of date sooner or later, but it doesn't. Something like [Television's] Marquee Moon or [Neil Young's] Zuma sounds just as fresh as it did the day it came out.

Yeah, Marquee Moon sounds so much more up to date now, this minute, than most records made in the last ten years. And you look at Marquee Moon with that picture on the inside where they're all sitting, playing facing each other, and [the equipment] they're playing is probably all from the '60s. And even tonight, half the things onstage with us are things from the '60s and early '70s. So even the stuff we're making the music on goes way back. And I think that helps it hold up a bit. Not just the gear, but by not trying to be "up to date." I'm always wary of that.

The things I've done over the years that I'm least happy with—maybe an overdub on this record, or a mix on that record—it's always when I've tried to use the thing that everybody else was using right then. Whether it was like a weird synth in '86 or digital reverb in '88 or a certain kind of drum gating in the mid-nineties. Whenever I was influenced to think: "This is what people are doing right now." I rarely fall for that trick. But there is stuff where I go back and listen and think "Man, that sounds so nineteen-ninety-one and a half."

Are you still inspired by records like Marquee Moon or old Stones records? When I listen to Miracles I hear some of those influences.

A lot of garage rock, too. The Dream Syndicate was very influenced by things like Nuggets and the Pebbles series. Before this last record, I did go back and listen to a lot of those old garage records. A lot of the organ, the guitar riffs, things like that, came from there. It's a kind of music I really love, and I hadn't really thought about that stuff in a long time. But, you know, things like Dylan, or Television or Neil Young or the Velvets, those things are all still important to me. Even if I don't play those records that much anymore, they're still there. Those people just have a formula for making music that I like. They all take very traditional types of songwriting and blow it out with no respect for the song at all. And that's the kind of thing a lot of people won't do.

So do you have specific plans to go into the studio to get started on a new record?

We'll be going back to Tucson in September. I've got a lot of songs written, and I'm just going to keep writing until then. It's kind of what I did last time. I was writing until the time we went in to the studio. The last weekend before we went down to Arizona to record, [drummer] Linda [Pitmon] and I wrote three songs together and we were so happy with them they all made the record. So I'm sure the same thing will happen again, I'll just write and write. I really enjoyed working out there. The mood and the process was so laid back and open to random things happening, and I really like that and want to do that again. So I've got a lot of songs, but I don't want them to be too fully formed.

It makes sense, since Tucson is Giant Sand territory and there seem to be things happening by accident all the time on their records.

Yeah, it's always funny to work with somebody who's accustomed to working with Giant Sand, because there's nothing you can do to faze them. Nothing can freak them out. You can tear apart a song, change anything, it doesn't matter. They're so used to chaos, everything else seems ordered and normal.

#steve wynn #the dream syndicate #sunday interview

10 notes · View notes