#guys I feel like this is shite as usual but it might be because I’m v sleepy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckinsteverogers · 4 years

Text

Behemoth

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18++++++ Seriously, come on. You know the deal.

Warnings: Dick pic, nudes, size kink, bucky being a jealous beefcake, sam being low key annoying af, steve mentioned, tony mentioned, fluff at the end.

Synopsis: You’re on a dry spell and looking for a good fucking from one of the burely members of your team, and when Bucky notices you haven’t considered him, he takes it in his own hands… Literally, in the form of a dick pic.

Author’s Note: Welp, I’ve got a whole list of fics I should be writing, but this was because I saw a photo that a Tumblr I follow reblogged and well... I couldn’t help myself. It’s kind of shite, but oh well. I hope you guys like it.

EDIT: THIS WAS FLAGGED DURING THE TUMBLR APOCALYPSE AND I AM REUPLOADING IT WITHOUT THE PICTURES THAT GOT IT FLAGGED.

INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT BELOW LINE ;)

You and Bucky have been friends from the moment Steve brought him home, but you’d never considered him as an option, even with T’Challa helping in relieving Bucky of Hydra’s hold on him, knowing his trustworthiness.

Even when you went searching for someone to take away the ache between your thighs, you never looked at Bucky and seriously considered him as someone who could take away every ache, stop your thighs from rubbing to relieve the pressure, stop your fingers from finding your soaking centre and ridding yourself of the uncontrollable arousal.

Bucky noticed your wayward eyes, scrapping across Sam and Steve, even Tony, but never him; not that you noticed him noticing you. The plan was to show you what you’re missing with not considering him, to show you what you’d miss with Sam and Tony, to show you that he can fulfil your primal needs unlike Steve who would only want to ‘treat you right’. Bucky could surely treat you right, but he isn’t going to do that in the way Steve would; cooing over how gorgeous you are, which you fucking are, or holding you tight against him while he fucks you slowly, softly, romantically.

Bucky wants to hold you tight against him, sure, but he wants to fuck you with reckless abandon, give you what you so desperately need... A good, hard fuck.

So, when Bucky noticed Sam’s hand graze to wrap tightly around your upper thigh, sending your body into shivers, he knew he had to work quickly before Sam actually got the balls to do something other than simply touch you and grin about it.

Moving from his seat on the stool, he dismissed himself to his bedroom, keeping the door open until he noticed you walk past towards your bedroom... Alone.

Grinning at Sam’s pussy attempt at flirting, he thinks; what will do the photo justice? What will make her come running to me the moment I send it through?

His eyes flicker up, closing in around the empty bottle of wine that Natasha had left in his room the last time they watched a movie together; clearly not his because it’s a waste of time drinking the shit when it doesn’t do anything to him.

He moves across his room, buzzing with anticipation, the blood from his face travelling down to his crotch, hardening the behemoth to full length. Bucky grins to himself as he shuts his door, pushes his pants to the floor, kicking them off and holds the wine bottle against his erect, throbbing cock.

The contrast is incredible, just how fucking big he is. He wasn’t small before the serum, but now, he was a fucking giant; he thinks that to fit inside your small body he might have to use an entire bottle of lube and loosen you with his tongue first.

Without regret, he takes the photo, snapping it with his free hand, and throws the wine bottle onto a pile of clothing. He attaches the photo into a text message addressed to you, he thinks a moment and then types out the message. His cock throbbing at the thought of being inside you soon, feeling your warm, throbbing wetness, feeling the ridges grind against his steel-like cock.

Your phone buzzes across the room from your position on your bed, your fingers buried inside yourself, moans drawn from your mouth as you try and satiate the desire in your belly.

You’d been ready to fuck Sam the moment he touched you, but he wanted to play hard to get and you weren’t willing to wait, convincing yourself you’ll make yourself cum and then go find your Captain and beg him, even get on your knees if you have to, which surely would make any man’s blood start pumping to his nethers.

The thought makes you giggle as you stand up, your fingers slipping out from inside you as you pull your hand from your pants. You tap the screen of your phone and look at the messages someone has sent you.

Buckinator: Sent a Picture.

He always sends you pictures, of landscapes or of the team, or simply a selfie that he likes, so it wasn’t uncharacteristic.

Another message comes through before you have a chance to look at the picture.

Buckinator: Come get me if you want me.

You scroll up after reading the message and click to download the photo, and what graces your eyes all but makes you faint, your knees get weak and your entire body turns to liquid, because holy fucking shit, he is fucking big.

Will he even fit in you? Will it hurt? Of course, it fucking will, but with how your body vibrates with arousal, you don’t fucking care. He could bruise all the skin on your body and you would not fucking care.

There’s no decision-making process, you had been ready to fuck your superior, but this, you hit yourself for never thinking of Bucky; of course, Bucky. How had you never thought of it? The delicious soldier, the beefcake, the man that could lift you up and down his gigantic cock with ease.

You run to your bathroom, wash your hands and don’t bother to change from your simple cotton panties and a big t-shirt, because you doubt they’re going to remain on your body much longer with how fucking hard he is.

You don’t even knock when you get to his room, you enter and throw yourself at him, earning a pleasantly delicious grunt from his lips.

“Doll,” He says, silky smooth.

“Shut up,” You reply, shoving your mouth against his hand wrapping a secure hand around his length, feeling the rock hardness in your palm. “I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I can’t wait.”

You ramble against his lips, lifting your shirt with your free hand, breaking the kiss to toss it across the room, and shove your panties down and do the same.

“So sexy,” He mumbles as you mount him, sitting on his lap, your thighs on either side of his. His hands roam across your hot skin, feeling, caressing, cherishing the short time he has with you.

You groan at the praise, it sending shockwaves through your body, down to your stomach, achieving in producing more lubrication to help take the wine bottle sized cock you were currently hunched over.

“Lube,” You whimper when the tip of his cock brushes across your clit, swollen and aching to be touched. Bucky passes the bottle he had beside him, clearly knowing you’d come running, and usually, you’d never be so blatant, putting yourself completely in the hands of someone else, but not having a cock inside you almost a year has been driving you fucking crazy.

You squeeze practically half the bottle into your hand and lube him up, wiping the excess on a discarded towel and shift until you feel him scrape against your entrance.

You lift your eyes to look at Bucky’s, losing yourself in the blue, trying to be brave enough to lower yourself.

“Slow, doll. I’ve got you,” He comforts, fitting his flesh arm underneath your ass, supporting your weight which is probably something you won’t be able to do once you feel him enter you.

Nodding, you begin to lower yourself with the help of Bucky’s arm, gripping his shoulders and scrunching your eyebrows up at the stretch.

It doesn’t hurt too bad, just an ache from the large intrusion, but Bucky helps take your mind off of it as his head drops forward, groaning into the valley between your breasts, his hot breath sending shivers down your body as you continue your descent.

“So fucking tight, doll,” Bucky groans, as if you don’t already know, because anyone would be tight around his cock.

You bury a hand in his hair as you feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix; luckily just as you seat yourself onto his lap fully. If this isn’t an indication to you, then you don’t know what is. Though, Bucky vocalises it before you can even start thinking again.

“Made for me, doll. Fuck, sweetheart. I fit perfectly in your tight, little pussy. You were fucking made for me,” He groans deeply from his position between your breasts. His arms wrapping fully around you, the coldness of his metal one incredible against your blazing flesh.

“Help me, Buck,” You reply, squeezing his shoulder. You don’t trust your legs to lift you up and down on him. The ask makes him lift his head, looking into your desperate eyes. He nods shakily, tightening his grip on your small body, lifting you up and down, up and down, until you’re a flurry of tears and screams.

“Holy fucking shit,” You say, throwing your head back as Bucky thrusts up into your bounces, moving in rhythm to send you into a boneless mess.

“Gonna move, doll. Better position,” He says, and the promise is fulfilled the moment he shuffles, still connected to shove you onto your back on the bed, and begins his assault on your body.

Thrusting sharply into you only proves to draw a scream from the back of your throat, your body withering beneath his as he grips your hips in an attempt to keep you still. Your orgasm draws closer the more he thrusts, the harder he smacks into you, the more he groans and spews dirty words.

“I’m so close already, sweetheart. Your pussy is so fucking good,” Bucky is staring down at you with lust blown eyes and you want to feel him cum, you want to cum with him.

You nod, moving to fit your small hand between your connected bodies, and rub against the swollen, abused clit. The pleasure makes you throw your head back and screw your eyes shut, feeling his cock assaulting every inch of your insides and your fingers push against the button that’ll push you over the edge.

“Cum in me, Buck. Please. God, you feel so fucking good,” You ramble, words spewing from your mouth as you get closer and closer to the sweet, sweet release.

“Doll, Jesus. I’m going to cum in you soon. Are you going to cum with me?” Bucky asks. You flicker your eyes open to look at him, a gasp falling from your lips as he wraps his arms underneath your back and lifts you against him in more of a riding position, but you have no control. He’s sitting with his ass against his feet, holding your body securely against him, bouncing you on his cock and thrusting up into your body.

You bury your face in his neck, your fingers still assaulting your clit as the coil in your belly begins to tighten dangerously, and you feel your release move quickly to full-blown euphoria.

“Bucky. Bucky. I’m cumming,” You scream into his skin, your entire body starting to tighten and tense, as the coil snaps and your body begins to clench and unclench around his.

You feel his hands scramble to keep you against him as he slams his hips into yours a final time and bites down onto your shoulder to keep from screaming out his release.

You’re stuck in a world between euphoria and relaxation as your body shakes against him, the aftershocks of your orgasm rattling your body, as you roll your hips down against his cock, drawing it out until the last second, feeling the spurts of his cum release inside of you.

“Fuck,” He says simply. You bury your fingers in his hair as he sits back on his heels and holds you tight against his chest, your legs tangled around his waist.

“Feel free to send more pictures like that,” You say finally, brushing your lips against the skin beneath his ear. He shudders at the words and the action and just secures his arms tighter around your soft body.

“Will it result in this?” He questions, kissing the bite mark he’d left on your shoulder. A warmth fills your stomach at the sweet kiss and you lean back to look at his face.

“Undoubtedly.” And it goes like that, he sends photos at the most inappropriate times, so you sleep with him every day, fucking yourself down on his cock, orgasming and screaming to the high heavens, the team begin to complain about the screaming so Tony gives you and Bucky your own floor.

One day after fucking each other into a state of almost comatose, he asks you if you’d like to see a new movie out. You are shocked, not thinking that was an option. You hit yourself again for not thinking of Bucky as a companion rather than just a fuckable supersoldier.

Two years after your first date, he asks you to marry him. You stare down at the velvet box with his mother’s ring in it, and furrow your brows, never thinking that this was something you wanted, but it’s Bucky and he is everything you’ve ever needed, not only because he satiates your needs, but because he is your need.

You say yes and it’s a flurry of tears and screams from the team. You marry your best friend in the most beautiful white dress and wake up the morning of the first day of your honeymoon in a pair of cotton panties and a big t-shirt, which he rips off of you and fucks you until you scream.

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

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Bad Timing III

A/N: Okay. This one has it all: action, betrayal, confessions, concussions (again), snark, and an ending that is neither happy nor sad, or maybe you make it what you want it to be :) This was so different from anything I’ve written and I want to say thank you everyone for reading it and motivating me to continue loll

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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I’m surprised to find Harry on my doorstep this early on a Wednesday morning. At first, I think he’d cracked the case. But he looks like he’d just rolled out of bed, a stubble roughening his usual freshly shaved face. He didn’t look like he had good news.

“You look rough,” I comment. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he blows his cheeks out with a breath. “Ab-so-lutely nothing, literally. I’m hitting a dead end with your case and I feel like shit about it.”

“So...you’ve decided to knock on my door at quarter to 8 and? Discuss the case with me?”

“Well I...not exactly.”

“Did you want to come in? Maybe go through some more of my private boxes?” I ask. I was being petty, making him feel uncomfortable. But I also wanted to just put it out there, so it didn’t hang above us like the rest of our past. The last thing I wanted from him was pity, so if I had to make him feel guilty instead I would own that.

He blushes, just like I knew he would. “M’sorry about that,” he mumbles, looking appropriately self-conscious. “I could do with a coffee if you have some?”

“You look like you need one but...I’ve got to head out soon.”

“I’ll give you a ride in,” he offers. “I...we can just talk about the case. This can be professional.”

My laugh is brittle as I open the door to let him in, like a stray I knew I would regret. “Nothing about this is professional.”

He walks right in through to my kitchen--he knew where it was by now. I put on another pot and the awkward silence settles in. This was exactly how my friends described interactions with their exes, I guess I was truly living the life of a divorcee and it was all very mundane.

“So, did you have a guest over?” He asks. I raise an eyebrow and he motions to the two cups sitting on the table.

I roll my eyes and pick them up, “Great observation skills, Detective.”

“It’s my job,” he rolls with the sarcasm, cracking the ice we’d found ourselves in again. He takes a seat at the table and begins, “So the group that hit your bank hit up two more in the last week.”

“Two?” I was shocked. So many victims, I almost want to make a Bank Heist Survivor Group for us.

“Yeah,” he accepts the cup I pour for him. I sit across him with my second of the morning. The first I had drank with an on-and-off again guy I’d been seeing for the last few months--Alec. I never really let myself get serious with him, afraid to get hurt I guess. I knew he liked me, and he was good to me, but I didn’t want to make any commitments. This morning was the first time I let him stay for breakfast...after that letter it felt like something changed in me.

The letter...Harry...I focus back on his words as I realise he was talking to me, “...last one they’ve actually put someone in hospital--the ICU. If she doesn’t make it, it becomes homicide and-”

“Homicide?” Once again, I’m shocked. These people were really terrorizing the banks, and the police had no leads. Or at least that’s how Harry made it seem: “Any leads?”

“Um, I probably shouldn’t say-”

“So that’s a no.”

He looks up sharply before a small embarrassed smile softens his gaze. “Nothing serious.”

“That sounds like a load of useless shite you lot are doing at the station. Three banks and you’ve got nothing?”

He avoids answering, taking a sip of his coffee. “There are some leads, but the group’s really good. I just--I feel like there’s something staring me right in the face but I can’t see it.”

“What’s new?” I raise an eyebrow. He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as he busies himself with the coffee. “What? I’m not joking.”

“This,” he gestures to me. “This snarky Y/N is a bit of an adjustment. I know you like your sarcasm, I just haven’t had it directed at me in a while.”

I cross my arms, maybe I needed to dose up my attitude so he knew I was 100% serious. When he catches on, he sets his cup down. “They’ve hit your bank up first yeah? I feel like there’s a reason for that, some personal connection maybe? Have you guys turned down anyone for a loan or anything recently? Someone that might want to target your bank first?”

“I’d have to check,” my mind begins to go over anyone we’ve had come in recently with issues.

“Oh!” He jumps in his seat. “The client you were meant to see--did you talk to him? I was going to ask you when you came to pick up the evidence but...”

“I was too busy to go.” I finish his sentence for him. “It’s weird actually, I called and got voicemail. I also emailed to apologise and reschedule but his office is away, I only get automated replies that they’re out of office or something.”

Harry pulls out the notebook he uses and asks me to write down their information, I was sure I’d written it down for him already but I write it a second time. I push the notebook back towards him, and he places his hand on top of mine instead of taking it back from me. I freeze, his large hand familiar and yet, heavier than I remembered.

“What are you doing,” I ask.

“I...want to apologise. For the other day.”

“Please let go of me,” I stare at his hand on mine.

“If I can just say-”

“Let go,” I say, slower. He clears his throat and removes his hand.

I pick up my mug, and move to the sink. Harry realises he’d overstayed his welcome and gets back up, throwing his jacket over his arm and hovering at the edge of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says awkwardly. “And letting me think out loud. Should I um, wait outside?”

I remember I’d forgone getting to work on time on my own for his coffee and case updates. Fuck, this was going to be awkward. “Sure, I’ll just grab my things.”

He waits on my front stoop, talking on his phone and once he’s done we walk silently to his car when I join him. The silence in the car is deafening. I watch his hand twitch to the radio but he rests it back onto the steering wheel without turning it on. After a few more moments of silence, he speaks up.

“So uh, did you want to ask me about what you brought up...the day you came to pick up the evidence? You said you had questions?”

“Are you serious?” I look at him, incredulous. He really was incredibly thick if he thought I wanted to have this conversation now, after this morning.

“What? I’m just trying to make conversation and you’re the one that wanted to talk about it so-”

“Have I not made it crystal clear that I only want to talk to you about the case? What makes you think that’s a good topic right now?”

He shrugs, and I once again pray that the other people on his team were smarter than him because if he was the lead, my case was going nowhere.

“Can I just ask one question?” He tries again. I almost want to slam my hands on the dashboard but I sigh through gritted teeth instead and tell him he could. “Did you...ever actually read the letter? Last week...you sounded sort of surprised when I mentioned it.”

“I...” I consider lying. but I go for the truth which is a change for us. “I didn’t.”

“Oh,” he sounds dejected.

“I read it last weekend.”

“Oh,” he says again, slightly hopeful. “But this whole time...you didn’t know?”

“That’s another question.” I didn’t want to go into what I thought of him this whole time. “I only agreed to one question.”

“Fair enough,” he taps the steering wheel. We’d managed to get stuck in some traffic. “So that box I sort of looked into the other day...”

“I said no to more questions, Harry.”

“That wasn’t a question,” he says, neatly catching me in his trap. I glare at him, but his cheeky smile tells me he was slightly enjoying pushing my buttons. I make a mental note to never accept a ride from my ex-husband ever again.

We fall silent, and the letter plays through my mind again, I’d reread it a few times before I tucked it into my bookshelf. I’d decided after that, to take The Box and tape it up. I wrote my sister’s address and left it by my front door to mail out when I had the chance. It was time I let it go, I realized. My sister was having her third child, and I was so happy for her. I had people who loved me, and people I loved. I realised that I was holding on to the box and it was just torturing myself. I had enough torturous things in my life, I didn’t need to be one of them.

It feels like forever until Harry pulls up to the curb down the street from my building. I thank him properly, not wanting to be a complete bitch.

But as I walk around to the sidewalk, he calls my name. I turn back to him standing outside his car with his hand outstretched.

“You forgot this,” he holds out my umbrella. I sigh and go back to take it from him but he holds onto it.

“Are you going to let me have it?” I tug again.

“Yes,” he lets go and I have to balance myself on my back leg. “Thanks for taking me in this morning. And for the coffee...you didn’t have to, yet you did.”

“Don’t read into it detective,” I scowl. “It was purely to get more insight on the case.”

“Right,” he smirks.

“But since you had no insights, it was a waste of time.”

“Don’t say that so loud,” he hisses. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“I’m not telling the people something they don’t already know.”

He narrows his eyes and grins, and my heart skips a beat. It was a familiar look, he used to look at me like that all the time. And I realise that maybe I’d just been flirting with him a little, albeit aggressively but...I drop my smile into a neutral expression. He notices the change and drops his own grin.

“I spoke to my supervisor and I’m going to set up in an empty room if that’s alright. I wanted to interview some of your staff, see if they had any clients who might want revenge by-”

“You’re coming in today?” I feel like he’d just pulled some sleight of hand trick on me, driving me to work only to come in with me. “I don’t know if my staff wants to talk.”

“It’s an investigation, they all agreed to further questioning when they gave their statements Y/N, I’m not going to be invasive. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

“I have no choice do I?” I turn around and begin walking up the street. He follows me in.

And surprisingly, I barely notice him in the empty conference room until after lunch when he comes in to tell me he would be back later, that he had to drop by the station for something his evidence team found.

I make a few rounds to my staff, make sure Harry didn’t disrupt their peace. That they were still okay after talking about the thieves. Being on the floor, my eyes continue to dart to the door, eyeing each of the customers.

I lock myself in my office for the last hour, channeling the nervous energy to get work done. It’s a few minutes before closing that I get the email. I rush to open it: the client I was meant to see finally responded.

Good afternoon Ms. Y/L/N,

We apologise for the delay in our response, our offices have been closed for the last week blah blah blah. We’re very sorry to hear about the events that occurred in your bank. As a loyal client, we would like to extend our sympathy...

I skip to what I needed to know:

To respond to your inquiry about the meeting we had scheduled, there doesn’t look to be anything on our end. I’ve spoken to the advisor personally, he had a flight out of the city that exact date so he wouldn’t have booked a meeting at the same time. I think this could be an error on your end but do let us know if there’s anything we can provide to help...

I sit back from my screen, my thoughts racing. I read it again to be sure and bury my face in my hands. I read it a third time to be sure.

Adam had specifically told me the meeting was at 10am sharp, the client threatened to switch banks if I didn’t attend. But if they never booked it...I actually had no reason to be there.

Except I was the only one who had access to the vault.

I stand up in a rush, this was an inside job! Someone I worked with knew who robbed this bank, they worked with them! Harry was right, the truth was staring at us and it was so obvious!

I take out my phone and text Harry: call me, the client for Thursday just got back to me...he wasn’t in the city that day? I think about adding more, but I didn’t want to freak him out. This could be a big misunderstanding, and I didn’t want him to come here only for it to be nothing. I place my phone on my desk and take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

I walk out of my office, most of my staff had cleared for the day. Two of them deal with the last customers, but my eyes are searching for Adam. I had to ask him more about this client phone call, what number had they called from? Was he sure it was from the correct offices?

But Adam is nowhere to be found, which was weird because he worked until 5pm.

I move to the staff room, but stop in my tracks when a familiar voice chills me to the bone. I knew the voice, it was the same distinct voice that haunted my thoughts for the last two weeks.

I peek around the corner, Adam and a muscled bloke stand right outside the staff room. My shock catches itself in my throat as my heart plummets; the inside man--it was Adam. Adam had betrayed us all. Shy, awkward Adam. Suddenly I remember all of his jumpy behaviours since the robbery, and all his questions about security before. I just thought he was trying to learn more about the bank. Little did I know...my blood boils but I have to put aside my own feelings of betrayal when the conversation grows louder. I strain to hear.

“The phone and the fucking card are missing, you better not be the reason we’re found out!” The muscled guy with the voice jams his finger into Adam’s chest. Adam looks scared shitless.

“I swear, I looked through the evidence they returned. I-I gave you the phone back! They haven’t said anything-”

“But that one detective was sniffing around here this morning? That’s why you texted me right? What did you tell him huh?”

“I didn’t say anything, he hasn’t even talked to me I-”

“That’s right. Make something up, a crazy customer from the day before some shite like that. If you even look suspicious to him, I’m going to come over to your flat for a nice dinner and invite my friend with me.”

My eyes bug out when I see him shift his jacket to reveal the hilt of a gun. Fuck!

I reach down for my phone but I don’t have it, double fuck, I think. I left it on my desk after texting Harry. I was an idiot, a big big idiot.

I try to soften my footsteps as I walk away from the staff room but the conversation must have ended because their footsteps echo on the tiled floor. I push into the nearest door and lay flat against the wall inside. I’m so focused on listening for their voices that I don’t realise I stepped into the men’s room.

“-before I leave..” to my horror, their voices stop right outside the room I’m in. I look around and realise I was in the men’s room. My instinct is to hide in a stall but this was a one-toilet bathroom, there was absolutely nowhere to go.

In slow motion, the door in front of me opens and the muscled, gun-owning guy looks right at me. It feels like a Western showdown as we lock eyes and freeze.

“Hey...Adam,” the guy calls out to Adam who must’ve been behind him. Adam peers around his shoulder and tenses when he notices me. “She’s in the men’s room! Isn’t that weird?”

“I-Y/N...she usually uses the men’s room.” Adam tries to cover for me but my deer-in the headlights expression is enough to give away that I knew who he was. I was trapped in here like prey. Adam lowers his voice, “C’mon, just leave her here and go-”

“She’s seen my face though,” He steps in and I inch into the corner.

“Look, I can forget your face. We can pretend this never happened please, I really really don’t want to die in a men’s room.”

Tattoo laughs, untucking his gun from his waistband. “I don’t believe you. Adam, get some tape so we can tie her up. I don’t want blood on my hands but if you make any noise, I’m painting this room fucking red.”

I keep my mouth shut, and nod. I’m reliving the worst day of my life all over again as I stare at the barrel of the gun. A small part of me wonders how my life could hang in the balance of this man’s fingers, twice, but I stay silent.

“There’s nobody here, everyone’s gone home.” Adam says, more to me. Tattoo pushes me against the tiled walls and pats me down roughly. I protest but he pushes the gun against my skull and I fall silent. Adam tries to step in, offering to make sure I didn’t have anything on me like my phone but I was stupid enough not to have it on me. His friend steps into the hall and makes a call, I assume to his crew.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Adam’s voice breaks as he pats me down gently. I turn to him, with tears in my eyes. I was scared, and I needed Adam to get help. “Adam please, please don’t do this. Whoever he is, the police can protect you I-”

“He’s my cousin Y/N, you don’t understand he will kill me if I go against him. It’s complicated--my family’s complicated. I’m not like them. Y/N I’m so sorry I swear he...” he falls silent as his cousin comes back in. Adam makes a show of taping my hands and legs. I try to whisper, beg him to try but Tattoo notices and shoves me against the tiles. I think I black out for a second because the next moment, he’s pressing tape down over my mouth. I feel the panic I’d kept at bay blow up in full force, along with an ache in my temples. My breathing comes out short and I squeeze my eyes shut so I wouldn’t cry. I was going to die in a men’s restroom; this was what my miserable life had culminated to.

I remember the text to Harry then, maybe he’ll come. With backup. Maybe he’ll save the day for once. And I think about security, they surely noticed I never left the building, maybe they’ll go looking for me.

But my hopes are dashed when a woman comes in, I recognise her voice as the one who’d pushed me into putting the code into the vault.

“The side door was unlocked,” she tells Tattoo. She notices me and smirks, “It’s like you want your bank to be robbed. Who leaves the side door open after hours?”

She laughs and turns back to Tattoo, tells him that the guards were down and the place was officially locked up. They bring Adam in, and check with him that he knew where I kept my passwords, that he could clear out any money still left at this time of the day. I don’t hold back then, my tears flow silently down my cheeks as I watch them all leave me in the dark. If the police still hadn’t arrived, I really was going to die here like this. I don’t know when, but I pass out, and when I come to again I’m being pulled up aggressively while a familiar voice shouts at the people dragging me. Was that Harry?

H’s POV:

The one time I leave my phone in my car, I miss the most important text of my entire career--my entire life.

Around 2:30, the evidence team calls me, there was a breakthrough on the phone and card from the scene. A few numbers, but they were still trying to process the application for the records. I decided I couldn’t sit around and wait so I drive to the station and rush inside, leaving my phone behind.

It’s a waste of time though, the number leads to a burner that leads to a local shop that leads to a credit card. And that leads to a warrant which could take hours. Two hours later and I’m frustrated and moody. I decide to get some fresh air, and check my phone but reaching for my pocket I realise it wasn’t there.

I head to my car and find it between the seats. When I turn it on, Y/N’s name stands out and her text pushes me to my feet and into my car. I call her three times on my way to the bank but it keeps ringing. Fuck, I think. What if something happened to her? How was it that it was now a second time I was rushing to where she worked, afraid for her life.

I pull up the closest parking spot I can find to see security locking up. I rush to knock on the door but he only glances me, points to the closed sign, and walks away disinterested. I was in plainclothes today so he must have thought I was a customer. I reach for my badge to show him, and realise I’d left that in my jacket in my car. I couldn’t get anything fucking right today. I bang on the door but he ignores me, and the people outside begin to stare at me.

“I’m a detective,” I try to reassure them but they hurry past. It was stupid but I squint to see if anyone was inside, but there’s not a single soul. I see movement cast a shadow at the very end of the room but I can’t see anything with the way the glass is positioned. I center myself at the front again but the security is gone--I was going to have to find another way in.

I move around the big block of a building, looking high and low for another entrance into the building but the next shop over is a cafe so I double back and try the other way. A wooden door sits between the bank and the purses crowded in the store window on the other side. I try the door but it’s locked. Of course.

I go back to my car and find my lock pick kit, picking up my badge was a good idea. Within minutes, I’m in and a sterile hall greets me. I try the door on the left, but notice the keypad. After some bad guesses, I consider who set this: Y/N. I try her birthdate, her family’s birthdates--as close as i could remember. My feet tap against the tile rhythmically when the door knob turns right in front of my eyes. I dash to the side and huddle in front of the next door, rattling my keys as if I were trying to get in. Luckily, that door is unlocked and it’s a utility closet. I rush inside and peek through the crack; a man comes out and holds the door open while a woman opens the door I just came in from.

“It was unlocked,” she says skeptically.

“Shite security, just come in. When’s Russ getting here? He’s always the bloody last of us anywhere.”

Something was very wrong, I realize. But I don’t have time to think, I jump out of my hiding spot and manage to slide my hand into the closing door. I nearly crush my fingers but I nudge the door back open and slip into the bank.

The area’s clear, I move in to investigate. It’s only when I move from the hidden passage to the main lobby that the weight of the situation dawns on me. A different man wraps the security’s hand behind his back and pushes him against the wall. Push was nicer than what it looked like, he practically drags the guard into the wall.

My shoes squeaks on the floor and he looks up sharply, eyeing the area I was peeking out from. I crouch down, next to the trash bin and wait for his footsteps to leave. When I peer around the corner again, a familiar face paces behind the desks. Adam, I think it was, Y/N’s assistant.

It becomes clear in an instant, like a timelapse of a foggy night clearing into a bright blue sky. It was right in front of my face: Y/N’s assistant. The one who’d asked her to come in for a made-up appointment, the one who knew her exact schedule, the one who was jumpy and nervous every time I spoke with him. I thought he was just a shy kid but...he’d betrayed Y/N and been the inside man for these robberies.

I take my phone out, ready to text someone for backup but voices coming my way forces me to stop what I was doing. I press myself against the wall, trying to make myself smaller.

“I think she’s knocked out-”

“Don’t hurt her,” That was Adam. I recognised his cowardly voice. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without her just, leave her in the bathroom. We can take everything and go.”

“You don’t have a say what goes on around here,” the woman says to him. “Your puny arse is why that detective was sniffing around here anyway.”

“She’s seen all our faces,” one of the guys says. “I’ll do it after you go.”

“She won’t remember, please.” Adam tries again. “Leave the charges at robbery, don’t add murder. She’s my boss I...”

The blood rushes to my head: his boss. Y/N was here, and they were casually talking about killing her? I take my phone out just as it begins to vibrate. I jump and manage to stop it in time, but my badge--the one thing I’d taken from my car purposely, clangs against the metal trash can.

Footsteps rush towards me and I stand up with my hands up, “Backup’s on the way, I suggest you lot put down-” they were all pointing guns at me. Bollocks. “your weapons.”

“That’s the fucking detective,” the one I’d seen tying up security waves his gun at me and I try not to panic. I wasn’t involved with a lot of guns, just the wounds they left in victims. I listen to him swear, “Backup yeah? I don’t hear shit. How did you even get in here?”

“I told you, the door was unlocked. The security here is shite.” The woman says, eyeing me. “I say we tie him up with the bitch and skip out now.”

“We haven’t even taken everything, this idiot doesn’t know the passcode-”

“I told you it changes every week. She must have changed it today.”

“Adam, how could you?” I speak up and all eyes-and guns-are back on me. Adam opens his mouth like a fish out of water but nothing comes out, I watch as he squirms and his group moves closer to me.

“Phone,” the one with tattoos points to the device in my hand. “Check his phone, if he called backup it would be on it.

I curse, they were smart. They’d robbed three banks after this and hadn’t left much behind--I should’ve known to be better prepared.

Someone takes my phone, another comes around and shoves the gun in my back which forces me to walk out into the lobby. They go through my phone and snicker at something. type something in and then toss the phone in the trash can beside us. I balk at the sound it makes when it crashes; the gun in my back pushes me forward and I’m forced to walk down the lobby, through a door and up to the men’s room.

“Wake the bitch up,” one of them men speak behind me. “Tie this one up and get her to open the safe with the new code.”

I knew I was outnumbered, they push me through the door and Y/N’s body is curled in one corner. The freshly pressed clothing from this morning are rumpled around her frame and she looks unconscious. The one who tied up security tapes my hands around my back and pushes me beside the sink.

“Don’t touch her!” I struggle against the arms who hold me back as the tattooed guy hauls her up and slaps her face.

“Wake up, it’s show time.” he shakes her. I push against the body pressing me down as they take Y/N out of the room. Her eyes flutter open and catch mine before she’s dragged out.

“I swear if you guys touch her I’ll snap your neck in half,” I can’t stop the panic turning into rage. “She-”

“Are you sleeping with her or something? Shut the fuck up.” The woman kicks the back of my knees and I fall, hitting my head as I crash down on my knees. She closes the door behind her.

I don’t know how much time passes but it feels like hours. The next time the doors open, they shove Y/N inside and she stumbles. I jump up to help her but with both of our hands behind our backs I accidentally lurch forward and her head bumps off chest.

“God! Harry!” She winces. “Way to hit the one part of my body that already feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Y/N,” I steady her with my chest and lean down to look at her. “Are you alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“Other than terrify, harass, and manhandle me? Oh, and give me another concussion...hm...”

“Here,” I motion with my chin. “Turn around, I’m going to get this tape off of you and you help me.”

She does as I say and I use the sharp edge of the ring I wore to make a small tear.

“Holy shit that’s better,” she shakes her hands out and gets to work on mine. As soon as my hands are free I try the door, there was a slim chance but we were in a restroom. I had to try. But it’s locked. Y/N speaks up from behind me: “They lock from the outside if you have the key--they probably got it from security. I don’t know who I angered in a past life but this is some shitty karma.”

“There’s got to be a way out of this room,” I wasn’t about to give up.

“There isn’t. But shouldn’t there be, like, backup coming?” Y/N takes a seat against the wall, watching me explore every inch of the tiny room.

“I...no. They took my phone before I could-”

“You came here without telling anyone? Even after the text I sent?” She shoots daggers at me.

“Well your text wasn’t exactly screaming danger!”

“I really have no fucking clue how you got your position Harry, surely anyone else would not be this dense.”

“I’m trying to find us a way out of here, this isn’t my fault! And anyway, it is your assistant that’s set this all up,” I say defensively.

“Sure know how to pick the men in my life, don’t I?” She says, but quieter. Seeing her bruised and hopeless there fuels me to look harder for a way our but after a frantic search, there really wasn’t anything in this place. No window, no vent big enough, nothing to pick the lock. I find a first aid that’s mostly empty, but there’s still an ice pack, tape, and painkillers inside. I crack the ice pack and hand it to Y/N who takes it silently, and then I slump down against the wall opposite Y/N and hang my head.

“What do you reckon they’re doing out there?” she asks.

“They were going to clean the place out and skip town.”

“Do you think we’re gonna die here?” she asks, her voice wobbly like she was about to cry. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that, I’m just...asking.”

I look away from her face, her expression crumbling under my light scrutiny. She sniffs. Without looking at her I say “We’re not dying here. I told my guys to call me when they have something, and if they can’t reach me it’ll be suspicious enough to followup at least.”

“By the time they grow suspicious enough to track you, we’ll be dead. I’ve not got much faith in your team.” Y/N crosses her arms. Even under these circumstances, she’s fierce.

“They’re close to a breakthrough. It was them calling me that got me caught out there actually. Not even the call itself...my bloody badge clanged against the--it doesn’t matter anyway. But they must have something, they’ll be here soon. We won’t die in here.”

I felt more than hopeless stuck here. Out of the two of us, I was supposed to be the one who could make their way out of this type of situation. Months of training and years of experience, and here I sat stuck in a bathroom with the woman I gave up on.

“What a way to go,” she sighs. “In the bloody loo.”

I want to go over and put my arm around her, maybe I needed the comfort more than she did. But based on the way she crosses her arm and keeps her legs up I know she’s guarding herself. I could read the signs. So we sit there silently for who knows how long. Every so often a muffled noise comes from outside, we hear a crash but the silence after doesn’t tell us whether the thieves had left or they were still around.

With Y/N going mute, I look around the room again but there’s still nothing. She slumps further to the floor, and I seat myself back down again. I stare at her, remembering the shape of her face under my hand, the curve of her hips when my fingers traced them. Her laugh, the way she liked to tease me. If I was dying here, and this was my life flashing before my eyes...I sure had missed out on a lot of it. And if the robbers decided to come in here, and put a bullet in each of us, what kind of person had I even been?

A new surge of energy goes through me, I take the slim door handle and try it again. I know it wasn’t going to open but I tug it, again and again. I brace my foot against the wall and try and try again. But it remains stubbornly closed.

Winded, I sit back down. Y/N just watches me silently as the hope officially leaves my body. We sit in silence.

“Are you happy?” she asks after a few minutes. I look over at her bruised forehead, she raises an eyebrow and immediately winces. I reach over--in the small space, even on opposite walls, she was an arm away. I guide her hand with the ice over the bruise.

“I don’t know,” I admit, leaning back against the wall. “Why?”

She shrugs, going silent. I stretch my legs out and she mimics me, finally letting down her guard as her legs rest beside mine. I give her another minute, and she responds. “Your letter, you said you left because you weren’t happy. So I’m just wondering...are you happy now?”

“If I said yes, would it make you feel better?”

“Well, it would make you falling in love with another woman and breaking my heart in the process a little easier to accept...it wouldn’t have been for nothing if you’re happy.”

“You sure have a lot of tact,” I sigh.

“We might die here?” she fixes me with an annoyed glare. “There’s no time for tact when I could get closure? Before I die?”

“We’re not dying in here,” I promise but she shrugs like she didn’t have much faith in me. And why should she?

“Don’t avoid the question: are you happy?”

I give myself a moment, taking in her face. I didn’t know how to answer that without the overwhelming shame and guilt choking me. In a way, yes. In others, no. I settle for, “Sometimes.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she hits her foot into my knee. “Sometimes? You cheated on me, and dumped me for a sometimes?”

“Okay wait,” I stop her. “I want to get something straight, I never cheated on you--”

“You did! You fell for some woman a-and you literally married her not even a year after we split!”

“Y/N,” I grow serious. She had thought that this whole time that I... “That’s not how it-” I let out a breath, truly realising what she thought of me this whole time. “Y/N, I fell for someone, sure, but I never even went out with her before we split. Nothing happened! It just took falling for someone else to make me realise my heart wasn’t in it--with us. It made me see I wasn’t happy where I was. But I-I went on one date with that person after we split and it was awful. She avoided me at work after that.”

“What?” she furrows her brows. “So-so who the fuck did you marry?”

I almost laugh, but it would be so inappropriate. “Someone else I worked with-”

“Wow, Harry, you really know how to get around.” She crosses her arms.

“I never denied that--you knew me in uni.”

A small smile cracks her guard but she covers it with an eye roll. “That’s the only thing you’ve said all day that’s actually made sense.”

“It’s nice to see you smile,” I say which earns me a glare. I saw it coming, and that makes me smile. Her glare falters at my smile and she covers her face with the ice pack. I continue, feeling more confident to explain. “Anyway, it was this other person from work, we’d worked on a few files together and she was actually the one who asked me out when she found out I was single. I felt like I had a strong connection with her--to be honest I think I was just lonely and h-um,..y’know. Mistook that for a gem, and married her.”

“I always thought you married the woman you fell for. So you could have a baby.”

I have to laugh at that. “I didn’t want a baby that badly--with someone I barely knew at best.”

She shrugs, “Well we were so tumultuous after we found out our chances were low and you were such a bitch to me about that so what else was I to think?”

I feel like an arse all over again. “I was an idiot, a big fucking idiot Y/N.”

“When did you realise?” She leans forward. “Cuz I’ve known that for years now.”

I rub my face with my hand, she was never going to make this easy. “I thought having a kid would make me happy, make me feel complete; it was the missing thing in my life. So when I realised our chances were low, it just killed my hope of ever being happy. Honestly I think even if we got pregnant I would’ve still been unhappy. I was just...using that as an excuse to..break us apart. It was never about you, I was just too cowardly to admit that I was going to hurt you if I told you I wanted a divorce for the real reason: because I wasn’t happy.”

“So...you made me feel like a fuck-up for not being able to get pregnant instead?”

“I...yeah,” there was the waves of shame crashing into me, I was drowning in it. Y/N just sits there, I can feel the judgement and hurt rippling off of her as she pieces everything together. “I feel awful about that. You really didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Her tightened fists tell one story, but the tears pooling in her eyes tells a different one. I slide closer to her, crossing my legs in front of her. “There’s nothing I can say to even begin to apologise for that. I should have just been honest, told you I wasn’t happy in the relationship, in my job, where my life was heading. But I let you believe it was somehow your fault and I can never take that back.”

She continues to watch me, her mouth a tight line as she tries not to cry. But with a blink of her eyes, the tears are streaming down her face. I reach out to her, out of habit, but she shrinks away. So I move back to the opposite wall and watch miserably as she cries into her sleeves.

“I was still unhappy, after the other marriage.” The only thing I can do is continue, I didn’t want to watch her cry in silence. “It took me finding her flirting with another bloke at work to realise we were a farce. I split with her, quit my job a few weeks later, and it was only then I felt free. It was a good feeling; the closest to happiness I’d felt back then. And then I lived with my sister for a few weeks while I figured out my next steps. You should know she was fuming when she found out we split, she didn’t talk to me for weeks.”

Y/N had wipes her tears by now, and listens to me talking in silence. When I mention my sister, she smiles. “We talk, here and there. Never about you, but I still keep in touch with her. And your mum. We had dinner when they were in London last year, it was really nice.”

“What?” This was news to me. “They never mentioned it.”

“Obviously not,” a smile pulls at her mouth and I’ve never been more relieved to see it. “They like me better than you.”

“Ouch,” If we got out of this--when we got out of this, I had questions for my mum.

“So,” she traces a crease on her trouser. “you switched jobs? Found the right fit?”

“Yeah, I did really good there. Moved up quickly. I found something I was passionate about, and it felt good. I think I was happy until...recently.”

“What happened?”

A shout from the other side of the door gives us pause, the door bursts open and I quickly move to block Y/N. But someone pushes an unconscious body into the room with their hands tied. With three bodies in here, it’s suddenly overcrowded.

“If you say one more thing to me, I will put a bullet in his fucking head...” The conversation fades out as the door slams and they walk away. Y/N rushes past me to the body and turns it face up.

“Adam,” she gasps. I walk over and her assistant lays there with a black eye and bruises forming all over his face. She unties his gag and I make sure he’s breathing.

“He’s alright, Just unconscious.” I let her know as she pulls off her jacket and piles it under his head. “He is the one who let these people into your life, you remember that?”

She glares at me, “He didn’t have a choice Harry. I spoke to him when I gave him the code--one of them’s his cousin. He said they were going to break in one way or another and if he didn’t help they would shoot him and me during the process.”

“He had plenty of time to tell you after the fact-”

“Have a little compassion,” she throws her hands up. “He didn’t ask to have a fucking criminal family. Just, let’s wait for him to wake up. He’s been through a lot.”

“So have we,” I mumble but she doesn’t acknowledge me. She moves to her wall instead, putting her hand to her head.

“Let me see,” I slide myself towards her and move her hand away from the area. I pick up the ice she abandoned on the floor and hold it to her head but she snatches it back, saying she could hold it herself, right before she pitches forward and passes out herself.

Y/N’s POV:

I wake up confused and groggy, only to see Harry’s face hovering above mine. For a second, I think that maybe I was living in a twisted Groundhog Day type of situation, forced to relive the bank heist until I resolved things with Harry. But then I notice his split lip and remember my life was that unlucky that I was in the same position twice.

“Jesus, you’re awake.” Harry lets go of my hand which he’d been holding.

“It’s actually just Y/N,” I try to crack a joke. It flies past his head, his eyebrows pinching together. He asks me if I remembered my name, where I was, and a dozen other questions even though I insist I was fine. I was laying down with my head in his lap, I realise halfway through the interrogation. But trying to get up made me dizzier so I stay. He shows me the paracetamol he found in the first aid and forces me to down two, and I only agree because my head had started pounding.

“Don’t do that to me again,” he pushes my hair back. I try not to focus on the warmth of his hand on my skin, how nice it felt. I was bloody delirious. “You have to stay awake Y/N, this is the second time you’ve hit your head I think your concussion might be more serious this time if you’re passing out--”

“Harry please,” I put my hand up to stop his rambling. “Your voice is hammering at my migraine.”

“Sorry,” he smooths down my hair again, and again, like it soothed him more than it soothed me. “I’m not used to feeling so useless like this. But there’s absolutely nothing in here that’s going to help us get out. All we can do is sit tight and wait for one of them to come back.”

“So finish your story,” I ask. “You said you were happy until recently. What happened.”

He looks at me skeptically but I insist I wanted to know. I was finally getting the full story, the closure that actually made sense. And I wanted all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

“The box,” he says simply and I flinch because I know exactly what he’s talking about. “Well, seeing you and realizing-- this whole time it’s like, I’ve missed you in the peripheral y’know? And seeing you that day, forced me focus on how much I missed my...best friend. And after that, the box? I realized what I did to you...the impact of it? Maybe I was just daft this whole time for not really thinking about it but-”

“I was pregnant,” I blurt out. If I was going to die, I may as well tell him. “A few weeks before our...breakup. I found out. And I was going to tell you. I was-I was just so excited I’d bought some things prematurely. But then I lost the...baby. I’d just boxed the shite away after that. Carrying it with me...it hurt but I almost believed that I deserved it?”

I watch him swallow, from this angle I can see the muscles in his jaw clench. I reach up and my hand lands on his neck, I move it to rest on his chest where I intended. He looks down and I see the tears coat his lower lashes. I think I was half-drowsy from the pain meds but I want to cry with him, and wipe his tears. A distant part of my brain screams at me for being confused and slightly fucked up, but my medicated brain reach up to pat his face. My heart flutters when he closes his eyes and leans into my palm.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He whispers.

“Would it have made a difference?” I ask, my eyes drifting shut. But he shakes me rudely and they fly open.

“Stay awake.” He insists. “And...it wouldn’t have made a difference but at least you wouldn’t be carrying it alone.”

“Well I’m not, anymore.” I yawn. “I told you, and you seen it. And m’gonna mail the box to my sister--she’s pregnant by the way. She might have better use for it.”

He eyes me, “How did that make you feel?”

“You’re not a bloody therapist,” I laugh. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I think I’d make a good therapist,” he says over-confidently.

“You’re the reason why I had a therapist,” I mumble. “You’d be an awful therapist. Your patients would need therapy from therapy.”

I laugh, it wasn’t even that funny but everything just felt ridiculous. Harry’s smiling down at me, but a loud crash from outside wipes it. His body tenses, and I watch the door.

“Sorry,” he whispers before gently moving my head off his lap and onto his jacket he’d bundled. He picks something up from beside him--the toilet seat.

“Why are you holding a toilet seat?” I whisper-shout. He puts his finger to his lips and crouches on the side of the door.

“You were passed out for a while, I had time to make a bit of a mess-”

He cuts his sentence short as the door opens and Adam’s cousin comes in swearing at Adam but before he can reach for him, Harry slams the toilet seat over the guy’s head. I watch it all sideways, my head feels too heavy to pick it up. The man crumples on top of Adam, and Harry expertly searches him, picking his gun off of him.

From outside, the woman’s voice come closer.

“What’s taking so long? The car’s outside just grab your stupid cousin let’s go! The cops will be here any min-”

She freezes when she comes face to face with the gun in Harry’s hand. She reaches for hers and in half a second, Harry’s fired his gun into her arm. She lets out a shout and falls to the floor. Harry kicks the gun out of her hand and pulls her inside, blood trailing in her wake. He uses the jacket under Adam’s head to tie her arms and comes back to me.

“Y/N, let’s go. I hear sirens.” Harry bends down and gently lifts me up. I feel like a ragdoll in his arms but I manage to prop myself enough to walk beside him. He closes the door behind him and checks the handle that it was locked.

He helps me down onto a chair, the brightness of the lobby nearly blinds me, my migraine tearing my skull apart. I think I throw up on the floor, I felt entirely out of it. I keep my eyes closed, but I hear Harry letting in some people, and I feel arms putting me on a stretcher, taking me out into the cool air. The fresh air smelled incredible, and that’s the last thought I have before I pass out.

***H’s POV:

It was a crazy 24 hours.

Right before I’d been shoved into a 7′ by 5′ restroom, my team at the station had received the warrant for the credit card. That was the call I received that put me in the tiny room with Y/N. When I didn’t pick up, Detective Cole had taken the lead in tracing it. The credit card belonged to Adam’s cousin and they eventually traced him to Adam. That was the smoking gun for them, they tried me a few times. Finally, tracking my car to outside the bank. Suspicious, they sent out a few uniforms here and when they noticed my car sitting empty, and no guard at the entrance, they called for backup.

I’d debriefed, spoken and written out in detail, what happened. They’d taken pictures, handcuffed everyone in the bathroom, and I’d watched triumphantly as they walked the criminals out. Two had escaped after hearing the sirens, but at least two would be put away.

I drink my third coffee at the station now, when my supervisor finally comes in to talk to me. Tells me I could go home, finally. To get rest--the paramedics had checked me out and I was okay considering what just happened.

But instead of going home, I drive straight to the hospital where Y/N lay like a shell of herself. A tall bloke in a perfectly pressed suits stands above her, brushing her cheek. I watch as she reaches up and holds his hand, I watch him pull her hand up and kiss it. Then he leans down and kisses her bandaged forehead.

My stomach is in knots; I can’t look away. It was the same person who left her flat just this morning--god, this morning felt like years ago. It must be her boyfriend, but she didn’t mention she was seeing someone. Maybe it was casual, I think. But casual wouldn’t come to hospital like this, caress her like that.

The obvious was that I was lucky just to have a glimpse of her in my life again, long enough to clear the air between us. But I couldn’t hold on to her, when I let go so many years ago, I’d lost my grip entirely. And now she was out of my grasp.

I knock gently on the door, Y/N’s boyfriend (?) looks up.

“Sorry, the doctor doesn’t want anyone taking her statement right now-”

“I’m not-” I unclip my badge to show that I wasn’t there for my job. At the same time Y/N rests her hand on his arm.

“Alec,” she says in a hoarse voice. “It’s alright, that’s Harry.”

“Oh,” I can read everything in the two-letter word and the look he gives me. He seems to swallow what he really wanted to say and comes up to me to shake my hand instead. “Thanks, for helping Y/N tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I grasp his hand, he had a strong handshake. Which was a stupid thing to think about I realise, as my eyes land on Y/N. She’s looking at him with a purity in her eyes that she used to look at me with. Something inside of me falls away, it feels raw and dark. I remove my hand from his, “Y/N’s a strong woman.”

“She is,” he looks at her with the same look she gives him. I felt like I should go, like I was interrupting them. But Y/N asks him to give us some space. He happily obliges, like I wasn’t even a threat to him. With what Y/N told him, everything she knew to be the truth before tonight, I didn’t blame him.

“Hi,” she says, she clears her throat, watching me watching her.

“How are you feeling?” I brush her hair back from the bandage on her head.

“Like there’s a rock concert in my head,” she jokes. “Except it’s mostly screaming.”

“Kind of like that one party we went to in uni,” I remind her.

“I thought the party’s theme was emo,” a laugh bursts out of her.

“It was screamo,” I laugh with her. “My ears were bleeding the next morning.”

“You crashed in my bed that night,” she remembers, her voice soft as the nostalgia washes over us. I take her hand in mine and brush my thumb over her knuckles. How times changed.

“You know, my girlfriend broke up with me that day when she found out I shared a bed with another girl.”

“Really?” She laughs again, twice in one conversation with me. She must be high on meds, or finally letting me in again. “You never told me that.”

“I never told you much about the girls I dated,” I say truthfully. “A lot of them dumped me after seeing how close we were. There was always that ultimatum: you or them.”

“Hm,” she hums. “I guess you chose me until you didn’t.”

We lock eyes and I open my mouth--to apologise? To explain something? But she waves her hand. “It’s a habit, I’ve got to get all the one-liners I’ve kept pent up out. I’ll be done eventually, don’t worry.”

“I look forward to that day,” I drum my fingers against the bed. “In the meantime...Alec?”

“Oh,” her face flushes as she looks out the door to where he stands on his phone. “Yeah. He’s been...really good, he came over as soon as he heard.”

“How long?” It was torture for me but it was like I needed to know.

“A few months, on and off again. I think I’ve just been keeping him at arm’s length because...well...”

“Us,” Once again, I’m reminded that I could never fully grasp the enormity of the damage I’d done. “He seems like a smart chap--he’s here for you after all.”

“That would make you a smart chap too,” she says which brings my attention back to her cheeky smile. “If you want to compliment yourself, you don’t have to do it in such a roundabout way.”

I laugh, she was good. She grins back at me and my breath catches, this feeling in my chest made me feel like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe deeply enough, the old fear of being unhappy had been creeping up on me ever since I got here and saw Alec with Y/N. Now it drapes over my shoulders like a heavy coat.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asks.

“Nothing,” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Just thinking about everything that happened. And what we talked about.”

“I’m glad that we...” she picks at the thin blanket covering her body. “I feel like I have some closure now?”

“I wish I knew...what you thought this whole time. The baby and...everything.”

“I’ve got a long way to go but,” Y/N rubs my arm. “Let’s just agree to leave all the heavy stuff behind. And live our lives to the fullest. Almost dying in a men’s room has really given me perspective. We both deserve to be happy.”

“You should write a book,” I joke. “It would sell.”

“We can co-write it.”

“We’ll title it Bad Timing,” I say. “A memoir of two people, right place, wrong time.”

“That’s good!” She grasps my arm. “And you could write the whole thing and just give me credit.”

“I’m okay with that,” I would do anything for her.

“You’re the writer after all,” she smiles and it strikes me again, how deeply she knew me. I don’t know if anyone would ever know me the way she does. “Do you still write?”

“Not really,” I didn’t at all.

“I was remembering the other day how you used to leave post-its all over my room-”

“I remember that,” I remind her of a few of my famous ones including one I stuck on her back that said kiss me. She scolds me for that and I pretend to be sorry but she knows I’m not.

“I am sorry,” I say, resting my hand on her arm and she understands I’m not talking about the prank.

“I know,” she looks away, out the door to Alec.

“So I should go, maybe I’ll be the one to take your statement? Tomorrow--or I’ll have my best officer come in here for it.”

“You should take a day off,” she says. “We almost died today.”

“You’re one to talk,” I say. “And we were not going to die today. You’re so dramatic.” I flick her knee and she flinches.

“Ouch,” she milks her current position in the hospital bed, rubbing the spot on her knee.

“Did that hurt? I don’t remember any knee injuries in your file.” I lean down over her and pat it extra hard.

“You’re evil,” she grins but for a small second her eyes flicker down to my lips, and when they meet mine again they look uncertain.

“Alright. Rest up. I’ll see you...later.” I lean down, my lips ghost her cheek, and I hear her sigh. “Goodbye Y/N,” I say, and somewhere it feels final. I don’t dare look at her when I stand up. I walk out of the room, and out of her life.

I think back to the one other time I saw her before the bank robbery. It was outside a grocer, and she’d told me to never talk to her again. I was glad the universe or whatever hadn’t listened, that our lives had crashed into each other even though that meant that in the end she was left in hospital and I was left unhappy again, realizing what I was missing in life. But for a brief moment, in the grand expanse of this universe, we orbited each other again.

As I nod at Alec on the way out. I stand to the side as he walks back in. I hear him comforting her, and I hear her tell him she had to talk in a low voice. I leave then, with every intention to leave her alone. She deserved this happiness she was finally finding as she put our past to rest, she didn’t need uncertainty. As for myself, it felt like it was my burden to bear now; Y/N and I just had bad timing, it felt like, but I just wanted her to be happy. So I let her be; I let go.

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roseforthethorns · 3 years

Text

Meta Analysis of Bond Theme Songs/ Intro Sequences in the Daniel Craig Canon

Analysis 1: Casino Royale

One of the things we usually notice first before anything else in a Bond film (besides awesome action and chases and things) is the theme song. Recent Bond films have even released the theme songs before the films themselves. We go into the movie already prepared to bop to the music and look at the way it fits with the film.

“You Know My Name” is the first theme song we have with Daniel Craig’s version of the eponymous spy. I honestly love how this film opens, especially since we only have about 3 to 3.5 minutes of introduction before the opening sequence. The black and white style helps link the old with the new, the specific angles looking up or looking down give us a sense of isolation and scope, the lack of strong music (until the bathroom fight) underpinning this quiet confrontation… This is a brand new James Bond, a fresh double-oh, driven by ego, and at least at the beginning here, he’s hiding in the shadows. And he gives one of my favorite lines of the Bond movies ever: “I know where you keep your gun.” There is a reason this is my favorite iteration of James Bond.

All of this is leading up to our first major theme song for Craig’s Bond: Chris Cornell’s “You Know My Name” (RIP Cornell- you’re gone too soon). Bond lands that perfect, classic Bond turn and shot, and then the aesthetic of this intro is EVERYTHING. It’s clear from the get go that we will be playing cards, and you can spot the major antagonists and interests in the intro. There’s a Jack that has Le Chiffre’s scar, one of the queens is Vesper. The bad guys dissolve into Card suits when they die. I love the detail of the sniper scopes turning into roulette wheels. It’s 100% one of the most creative introductions to a Bond film that I’ve ever seen.

And then there’s the music.

It’s a solid rock number with hints of orchestra clearly establishing the elements of the music that will serve as the main theme throughout the film (with some little nods to the traditional James Bond theme music- even if we won’t properly hear that until Skyfall. And we will get to Skyfall). It has a consistent, upbeat tempo that drives the music and the intro sequence, but it also reinforces the scene we have just witnessed.

“If you take a life, do you know what you’ll give?/ Odds are you won’t like what it is.” These are the first two lines of the song, and right away they hint that Bond truly does not yet know the cost of killing in his line of work. He’s only killed two people as a spy at this point in his career, since that second death earns him his status as a double-oh agent. He will face a great deal more death in the following 2.5 hours… and he is honestly not ready. He thinks he is, but the cost to his own soul might just not be worth it.

The lyrics continue to say that “you” (I will assume the “you” means “Bond” from here on out) is not so divine as angels, that his fall will just be another pawn, another card. He is on his own, self reliant because that’s the nature of the work (“Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you/ The odds will betray you. And I will replace you”). While the speaker of the song isn’t clear, it feels like the speaker is singing to Bond specifically, asking the hard questions and challenging him to the upcoming battle of wits and espionage. Maybe it’s Fate. Maybe it’s M. Maybe it’s Death.

I love the title “You Know My Name.” Bond likely doesn’t know the speaker, either as a person or as an idea. It’s also a fun little dig at the fact that Bond is absolute shite at code names, always leading with his name DESPITE BEING UNDERCOVER. I can just imagine M rolling her eyes in despair as Bond once again forgoes actual stealth in favor of… oh I dunno, crashing right through a wall?

The second verse of the song grows even darker, suggesting that the rules aren’t set in stone and are liable to change at any moment, mostly without Bond’s knowledge. That’s spy work. That’s some of the danger he faces. As a double-oh, he has to deal with physical, mental, and emotional torment. Within the movie itself, it seems like Bond might have a bit of black widow in him- both women he gets involved with die rather horribly. The first death seems to barely affect him. The second destroys him and leads him on a path for pure revenge. Both are incredibly necessary to create the hardened agent with a wall around his heart. But both still hurt.

“I’ve seen diamonds cut through harder men/ Than you yourself but if you must pretend/ You may meet your end.”

Bond really does pretend to be hardened and cold throughout the movie, but it’s the connection with Vesper that undermines everything. Her kidnapping gets him in one of the worst torture situations I’ve certainly seen on film (no I haven’t seen Dragon Tattoo, I’m not ready for that yet; and the drill torture in Spectre can go fuck itself). But as for this song and this movie and this story, Bond falls in love because the game twists around him until he can’t see the truth right in front of him. He misses that key detail about Vesper because of his heart. But by the end of the movie, he stops pretending- in that he stops kidding himself that he can leave the life of a spy. He will always be in danger and the odds will always be against him. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t save everyone.

And in Casino Royale, he finds that the prize “may never fulfill [him].”

#007 fest #teamdoubleoh #roseforthethorns #james bond #team00 #agent007 #007 fest 2021 #meta #Casino royale #analysis

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fallout4reactsblog · 3 years

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I was wondering if you could do an ask for those of us who don't have family to celebrate the holidays with. Companions react to Sole being upset spending their first holiday season without their family.

Cait: “Do you wish you had someone this holiday, Cait?”

It’s a weird question to come out of nowhere, and she leans around the curio she’s searching through to eye them quizzically.

“Why do you ask?”

They shrug. “I was just thinking about my family and everything, and how I miss them, and I thought I would get your opinion.”

She chews her lip thoughtfully and returns to rifling through drawers. “The way I see it, this is the one holiday I actually do have someone to spend it with. Before you, nobody gave a shite about me, you know?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that.” They laugh a little. “What an odd pair we make.”

“At least you’re not completely alone. You’ve got me, after all. Think of how much worse it would’ve been if you were by yourself.”

“That’s a surprisingly adept observation coming from you, Cait.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She chucks a loose snack cake at them.

They dodge, laughing. “It’s just strangely philosophical, you telling me to focus on what I have instead of dwelling on what I don’t. I guess I can learn a thing or too from you, huh?”

“Damn straight. You should listen to me more.”

“If I did, I’d end up dead.”

“Probably just maimed.”

“Brutally maimed.”

She waves a hand through the air. “Details.”

When they’ve quieted for a moment, she murmurs, “But for real, I am glad to have you, sole.”

Quietly, she hears. “I’m glad to have you, too.”

Curie: She taps the end of her pencil to her cheek as she searches for the right word. It’s not “impossible,” and “improbably” sounds too formal, but the word she wants escapes her. Frustrating.

“Curie?”

She glances up at sole, who’s sitting on the other end of the couch. In the middle, their legs have tangled together, and she looks past them to look them in the eyes.

“What is troubling you Madame/Monsieur?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just noticed you’ve been a lot more affectionate lately. I mean, you’ve barely left my side.”

She flushes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, I just thought it was strange.”

“I simply thought you would be feeling more lonely this time of year. Holidays can be a difficult time of year for those of us without family to celebrate with, non?”

They narrow their eyes. “Why were you even thinking about that?”

“I was simply reminiscing on my time with the other scientists before the war, and I remembered how lonely it was all by myself in the lab. They were always so happy around the holidays. And I thought to myself, sole is not in a lab, but they are also missing their family. I thought perhaps you would appreciate a little extra support.”

“That’s...” they shake their head. “That’s really sweet, Curie. Thank you.”

“Oh, do not mention it. It is merely a gesture of our friendship. You saved me from my loneliness, and I wish to return the favor.”

“Still, it’s kind. I appreciate it.”

“You are more than welcome, Madame/Monsieur. Anytime.”

Danse: He finds them out on the deck, wind whipping past them as they stare over the Commonwealth. They’ve been distant for days now, giving nothing but short answers, eyes far away when they talk. If he’s honest, he’s worried about them. It’s why he’s ditched the power armor in his bay for the moment; right now he wants to be a person, not a Paladin.

“Evening, Danse.”

They don’t turn to him when he approaches, and he doesn’t know how they can recognize his footsteps outside power armor, but he doesn’t question it. He just leans against the railing beside them.

“Something has been troubling you,” he says.

They sigh, and he can almost see them deflate against the railing. “You know, Danse, I thought that it would be easier than this.”

“What?”

“The holidays. I thought, you know, even though my family wasn’t here, maybe the Brotherhood would help fill that- that emptiness, if even just a little. But I guess it just doesn’t look like that.”

Their words hit too close to home, and he deflates a little, too. “I’m afraid you’re a year too late. With the war, there will be no holidays onboard the Prydwen.”

“Did there used to be?”

He nods, not trusting his words. He can’t tell them that, even though he understands why it’s necessary, it still hurts. They’re still new, still building their trust. He can’t sabotage that.

His silence means nothing, though, as sole seems to read his mind. “You must miss that. In a way, you don’t have a family for the holidays, either.”

Gently, they lean their shoulder to his, and he allows himself to lean back against them, just this once.

“At least we have each other,” they whisper.

He nods. “At least there’s that.”

Deacon: He doesn’t want to say it in such direct terms, but the truth is that sole’s house is a little... sad.

To be fair, they’ve only been in the Commonwealth a few months, and a lot of that was spent trying to figure out what the hell had happened to them and the world, but still. Sole’s place feels entirely like a house, and nothing like a home.

“You know, boss, you should just spend the holidays with us.”

They look up from their coffee mug from their place at their sad table with its sad, lone chair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just come live at HQ a while. It’s gotta be better than spending the holidays alone out here.” Slowly, he turns in a circle, as if to emphasize how empty (and sad) the walls are.

“But my memories are here, Deeks.” They blow on their coffee. “This is where I should’ve spent the holiday.”

“Yeah, with your family, if the world hadn’t gone to shit and blown up. But it did, so you should just come celebrate with us. Trust me, you’ll be a lot happier.”

He doesn’t mention the number of holidays he spent in an empty farmhouse for the sake of memory, and thankfully sole doesn’t ask.

“Deacon, are you actually... worried about me?”

“Oh, you bet, boss. I mean, look at this place. It doesn’t even have electricity. You couldn’t have holiday lights if you wanted them.”

“Do you guys do holiday lights?”

He shrugs. “Do you want to?”

For a brief moment, there’s a spark of life in their eyes. “Would it be okay?”

“Who’s gonna complain? Carrington? Just tell him that he doesn’t have to look at them.”

They hum and say, “I guess I’ll consider it.”

That’s his cue to hit him with the ace up his sleeve. “We do a game of Secret Santa, too.”

They try to hide their smile, but they’re bad at it, and Deacon breathes a sigh of relief, knowing they’re sold.

Gage: “Fuck do you mean, you miss them?”

“I mean I was fucking married and had a kid, you eyeless prick. I actually cared about my family, and it sucks that they’re not here. I’m sorry that you cut ties with your family completely, but not all of us can or want to.”

He huffs, because he can tell he’s pushing a little too hard, and if he keeps going he’ll end up wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Well, Overboss, trust me when I say you won’t even remember them. We got a bit of a tradition here, ourselves.”

They eye him warily. “Do tell.”

He shrugs. “Not much to say. It’s a party, we get drunk, fuck around, light some shit on fire. It’s a good time. Can’t lay around feelin’ sorry for yourself when you’re lightin’ something on fire.”

“So, Yule. You’ve reinvented Yule.”

“Call it what you want. As long as you have a good time, who cares, right?”

Their face is still doubtful.

“At least give it a shot, boss. You’re gonna have to be there anyway to keep up appearances. Might as well try to have a good time while you’re at it.”

“Alright.” They sigh in resignation. “But if I end up drunk and crying in a corner, it’s your fault.”

“I promise to hide you before you can embarrass yourself.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

Hancock: “Hey, sister/brother, what do you think of these?”

He holds up a couple strands of garland and tosses them over to a waiting sole, still perched on a ladder.

“Shockingly good condition,” they say. “But I think this stuff usually goes on the tree.”

He waves a hand. “You put it wherever you want. I’m just helpin’.”

“Well, do you have a tree?”

“Somewhere around here.” He glances around, but realizing it’s not within direct line-of-sight, shouts, “Fahrenheit!”

“What?” Her voice is muffled by the distance, but her irritation is not.

“Where’s my tree?”

“Wherever you put it last year. I don’t keep track.”

“Damn,” he huffs. “ I thought for sure that’d work.”

He heads into the other room to rifle around for his tree. There’s a beat of silence before sole says, “You know, I never have properly thanked you.”

“For what?” He glares down at the wreath in his hands, which had tricked him into thinking it was a tree, before shrugging and tossing it to the side to get hung up anyway.

“For giving me stuff to do like this. Staying busy really helps me feel less... alone, you know?”

He rocks back on his heels, peering into the other room to make eye contact with them. “Sure thing, sunshine. But I’ll warn you, it wasn’t all my idea.”

They laugh a little. “I figure Daisy had a hand in things, but still. It’s nice of you.”

“I appreciate you assumin’ that I’m not just using you for free labor.”

They laugh again, for real this time, and he can’t help but smile.”

MacCready: He wants to say something. He wants to tell them that it’ll be alright, that he’s been there and it hurts, but you make it out in the end. He wants to be able to comfort them somehow as he watches them duck their head and pretend to not see the decorations in Diamond City, but he’ll be damned if he knows how.

Fortunately, sole has the words where he does not.

“This sucks,” they declare, holed up in the corner of the Bobrov’s bar.

“I’ll drink to that.”

They clink their beers together, sip, and lapse into silence before sole says, “I really miss my family, Mac.”

He closes his eyes, pictures his boy back in D.C., and agrees. “It’s a tough time of year to be without them.”

They reach across the table and grab his hand. “Next year, we’ll go down to D.C. We’ll have found the cure by then. We’ll go see Duncan.”

“Would you really want to go?” His heart is thrilled to hear their words, but his head tells him that might only hurt them more.

“Of course. I want to see you go home and see your kid. I wish we could’ve done it this year, but...”

“That didn’t work out,” he finishes.

They nod.

“You know,” he says, taking another sip of beer, “next year we’ll have a big family celebration to compensate.”

“What, you and Duncan?”

“No, all three of us. We’ll go the whole nine yards. Lights, presents, everything. The real deal, all three of us. Family.”

That brings a smile to their face, and he smiles to see it. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but for a moment he can see the whole thing before him. The three of them together, laughing, making a family out of nothing.

Just make it through this year, he promises sole silently, and I’ll make sure you have a family holiday again.

Nick: He eyes sole in the corner of the agency, where they’re talking to Ellie about some case they’re working. They’ve been talking about leaving these past few days, about heading up to Sanctuary for the holidays. It doesn’t sit right with him. He knows sole, and he knows that only bad things await them at their old home this year.

“Well, I’m headed out.” They breeze by his desk to grab their hat. “Have a nice holiday, you two.

He looks them dead in the eyes and asks, “Why?”

They freeze right where they are. “Why what?”

“Why are you leaving? Got somethin’ real exciting up north?”

Their expression tells him they don’t have a good answer, and he sighs.

“Look, kid, I get it. You think you wanna be alone to mourn and cope with your loss. But I’m tellin’ ya, you’re not coping. You’re just making yourself miserable.”

Under their breath, they mutter, “Damn detectives. Always analyzing you,” before turning to him directly. “Well, you and Ellie already have your thing going on. I’d hate to intrude...”

“You’re not intruding,” Ellie pipes up. “In fact, I already bought you a present. In a way, it would almost be ruder to leave.”

“I bought one, too,” he says. “How about that?”

They hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Bed upstairs is all yours. Stay a while. It’s not like ya can’t change your mind and leave later.”

They turn to Ellie, but she’s just nodding along. “I freshened up the sheets just the other day, actually.”

“Well... alright.”

He lets himself smile.

Piper: “Damn, Blue. This place looks worse than the Glowing Sea.”

Her eyes scan Sanctuary Hills. Even Preston has headed off to the Castle for the month, so the place looks well and truly abandoned. The breeze kicks up as if on cue, scattering a few leaves across the road.

“Isn’t it great?” They kick a pebble across the street, bitter expression on their face. “No family for the holidays, and nobody else, either.”

“You can’t stay here,” she says, staring at the bleak, run-down houses.

They shrug. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I could stay at one of the other settlements, but that just feels weird. My home is here.”

Piper shakes her head. “No way, Blue. I won’t allow it. You are not spending the holidays here and that is final, you hear me? Final.”

They glance over at her with a bemused expression. “Then where am I going?”

“Home, with me, to Diamond City. You’ll spend the holidays with Nat and I, not here in, well, this. I mean, at least Diamond City decorates.”

They laugh a little. “Piper there is no room for me in your house.”

“We will make room. This isn’t up for debate, Blue. And don’t start with the ‘Oh, I’ll be intruding’ stuff, either. Nat’s gonna be thrilled to see you, and I’ll be thrilled you aren’t moping around this place that could probably make Takahashi depressed.”

“What, the noodle bot?”

“The very same. Now, go make yourself a sleeping bag, get whatever else you need, and let’s go.”

They salute her mockingly, “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

Better to be mocked than leave sole here.

Preston: He knows without sole saying a word. He knows that pain, the haunted look that trails them, the way they linger just a moment too long in the doorway of their home before sighing. He can’t help but feel for them, too, because he still feels like he’s in those shoes, lonely around the one time of year no one should be lonely.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does. He tells himself he’s crazy, even as he treks across the Commonwealth, searching out their companions, inviting them to Sanctuary so sole can be surrounded by this new, found family they’ve made. He can’t let sole suffer alone, not this time, not ever. He knows what that loneliness does to a person, and he refuses to ask sole to face it on top of everything else.

He reminds X6 that, if he doesn’t play nice, he probably won’t live to regret it.

He meets Gage at neutral territory and, even though it disgusts him beyond belief, they make a temporary armistice for the next few months.

He tells Danse that if he makes so much as one comment about ghouls, synths, or anyone else, he won’t be able to get all the sand out of his power armor for months.

It’s not the most glamorous job in the Commonwealth, but he is bound and determined to make this thing work, no matter the cost or consequence.

X6: “I don’t think I understand. Your family is here.”

They sigh. “But they’re not, X6. Sure, I found Shaun, but he’s hardly the child I thought I was looking for, and my spouse is still dead. My own son doesn’t even know me, much less would want to spend the holidays with me. I may have found Shaun, but...” They sigh. “Did I find my son?”

He takes a moment to contemplate their words. “You’re quite distressed about this.”

“I guess?” They shake their head. “I’m just lonely, X6. That’s all. I miss my family and having someone to spend the holidays with. It just doesn’t feel the same.”

He looks at them, takes in their tired, beaten expression and their slumped posture. Quietly, he evaluates a series of options and outcomes before leaning in and whispering, “Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?”

“A secret. Do you want to know a secret?”

They slide toward him, dropping their voice to a whisper, too. “Yes.”

“Us coursers aren’t supposed to have holidays. We are not supposed to have a sense of family. You know this.”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps you would like to join us, who also have no family, for a small celebration, then. It isn’t much, but there are snack cakes.”

They look at him, almost impressed. “X6, you know that’s not allowed. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you, and I think you need us as much as we need each other. I only ask that you don’t report it, if for no other reason than our bond as friends.”

“I- X6, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’d love to go.”

He nods. “It’s settled then. December twenty-second, one in the morning, the abandoned areas behind biosciences. Bring snack cakes, and bring lots if you want to make friends.”

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seanfalco · 4 years

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Definitely, Maybe | Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 1k Warnings: Language, Smut Requested by: Anonymous Prompt: You’re stuff is just wow! I can’t read enough! Would you ever be interested in writing another Nathan Young imagine in the same vein of “Jealous, Much?” Just instead of a guy maybe flirting with YN, it’s a girl DEFINITELY flirting with YN? + could you please write a nathan x reader smutty oneshot!! maybe where the reader and the gang go out to the pub for the night and afterwards the reader goes home with nathan?😌 a/n: Decided to combine these two prompts together, since smut seemed to be the logical destination :3

——

“Aw c’mon, yeh gotta be kiddin’ me,” Nathan exclaimed, his eyes narrowing as he peered across the dim room.

“What?” Kelly demanded and Nathan gestured with his beer bottle to where [y/n] stood at the bar, and Simon leaned forward as well to peer around Kelly for a better look.

He should be used to this by now, Nathan thought bitterly, seeing how it tended to happen nearly everywhere they went, but really? Women too now?

“I don’t see — oh,” Simon exclaimed, finally realizing what the others were looking at.

“Maybe she’s just bein’ friendly,” Kelly suggested, taking a swig, though she didn’t look like she really believed it.

“Oh yeah, friendly, right,” Nathan cried, scandalized. “She’s been gettin’ friendlier and friendlier each time [y/n] goes up there. I mean, even Barry sees it,” Nathan continued, gesturing to Simon who nodded before realizing what Nathan was implying and frowned.

“I mean, just look at that, she’s practically throwin’ herself at [y/n]. She saw us come in together. She’s probably convincin’ her that I’m shite an’ that she can pleasure her better because she’s got lady parts and knows how t’use em.”

“Oh, come off it,” Kelly argued, her ponytail swishing in her agitation. “So what if the bartender’s hittin’ on her, [y/n] fuckin’ loves ya! She wouldn’t do that t’ya.”

When Nathan looked doubtful Kelly kicked him under the table.

“Ow!” he cried, reaching down to grab his shin.

“Y’gotta trust me,” Kelly insisted, her eyes flicking to [y/n], who was returning to the table with their next round of drinks.

“Oh, how do you kno— oh,” Nathan gasped, suddenly remembering Kelly’s powers and his eyebrows raised.

“No,” she cut in sternly, reading his thoughts.

“No, what?” [y/n] asked as she set the fresh bottles on the table before sliding back into the booth next to Nathan who instantly slung his arm around her shoulder, pointedly glaring over to the girl behind the bar.

“Uh…” the three looked at each other, trying to come up with an answer.

“Well, uh, I was just suggestin’,” Nathan said, clutching at straws, “a good ol’ group orgy after this. Y’know? But Kelly shot me down and for some reason Barry’s still squeamish after, well, you remember,” he joked and [y/n] rolled her eyes, clearly buying his fib and instantly dismissing it as one of his usual raunchy jokes.

Kelly gave him a disgusted look and he quickly brought his bottle to his lips, finishing it off and grabbing one of the new ones.

——

“So,” he mused, leaning in closer to your side, “that bartender, huh? Hot or what?” he asked, his eyes flicking over to once again catch her looking your way. You frowned, shifting in the seat, your eyes narrowing slightly up at him.

“Is that an observation or a question?” you asked, taking a drink and Nathan shrugged, frowning dramatically.

“Just… makin’ conversation.”

“Nathan’s jealous,” Simon announced, leaving Nathan gaping at him, a tiny grin appearing on Simon’s face moments later.

“Oh, I know,” you said, eyeing your boyfriend with a knowing smirk. “He thinks he’s so subtle.”

“Hey, I’m not jealous,” he insisted, pointing his beer bottle at Simon and then you, “but if I was, I’d have good reason t’be.”

“Uh huh,” you mused, following his eyes. “I mean, she’s good enough lookin’, I suppose, but I’m not really interested.”

“Y’sure?” Nathan pressed, “I mean, she was practically undressin’ you with her eyes.”

Leaning closer, you grabbed the collar of his flannel shirt and yanked him down so his ear was at your level. “I’d rather you undress me for real,” you whispered, smirking as he stiffened, and letting go of his shirt, surreptitiously slid you hand down his thigh, causing him to jump, his eyes swinging quickly over to the bar just in time to see the bartender toss her head disgustedly as he shot her a smirk and flipped her off triumphantly behind your back.

“Oh naw,” Kelly exclaimed, her eyes flicking between the two of you, “it’s startin’ t’get weird. I don’t wanna hear that. I’m fuckin’ out of here,” she announced, tipping back the rest of her beer and holding her hands up before sliding out of the booth.

“See ya, Kelly!” you called after her with a laugh.

“Yeah, you have a good night and I’m gunna go home and try t’forget I heard any of that.”

“Bye Kelly!” Nathan called after her cheekily, before turning his sights on Simon.

“Well, Barry--Simon,” he corrected, lifting his nearly empty bottle, “it’s been grand, but I have t’go home now and get laid. Cheers!”

Simon awkwardly lifted his drink in return as Nathan downed the rest of his and turned to usher you out of the booth.

“Good night Simon!” you called, fighting back a laugh as you threaded your fingers loosely with Nathan’s, pulling him along behind you.

As you passed the bar, Nathan slowed, catching the bartender’s eye and grinned broadly, clearly gloating. “Better luck next time,” he called and she folded her arms over her chest.

“You’re a cocky shit, y’know that?” she called back and Nathan’s smirk only grew.

“Thank you! My girlfriend quite likes that about me!”

Offering an apologetic smile, you managed to keep your laughter in until you were at least out the door.

——

By the time you got to the door of your flat, Nathan’s mouth was already on yours, pressing you insistently up against the outside of you door, his hands wandering and you fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them as his tongue swiped impatiently against your lips.

“Nathan,” you gasped, managing to push him back slightly, met with a rather adorable pout. “Maybe we should get inside first?” you suggested with a laugh. When he didn’t move you cocked an eyebrow at him. “You gunna shag me right out here in th’middle of the hall?” you asked cheekily.

Nathan looked thoughtful for a moment before reaching for the keys in your hand and fumbling with the lock. “Temptin’ as that sounds, might not wanna chance it. I don’t fancy the idea of getting another ASBO for public indecency.”

“So let’s be indecent in our own home,” you purred before the door clicked open behind you and Nathan’s mouth was back on yours as he awkwardly walked you backwards and kicked the door shut behind him.

Once inside, you toed off your shoes and tugged at Nathan’s flannel til he slipped it off and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, while you continued to undress, losing your shirt and bra before sliding down your jeans and panties.

Once Nathan ripped his shirt over his head, the last of his clothes falling to the floor with the rest, you felt his eyes caress you hungrily and you led him further into the room, grabbing his hand and spinning him to push backwards onto the couch with a surprised grunt before crawling astride him.

His hands instantly found your backside, giving your ass a firm squeeze before traveling up to circle your waist as your tongues warred and twisted.

“Did you really mean what y’said about not being interested in that bird at the bar?” Nathan asked suddenly and you pulled back to take in his face. Though he tried to hide the insecurity in his eyes you were too well versed in reading him by now and you smiled softly, wanting nothing more than to put him at ease and show him that you truly only wanted him.

“Course I meant it,” you murmured, tilting your head to trail several open mouthed kisses along his jaw, grinning against his skin as you felt him shiver beneath you, his grasp on your waist tightening.

“I’m a little surprised though,” you mused, pausing to nibble at his ear, his thick curls tickling your face.

“‘Bout what?” Nathan asked breathlessly, his words dissolving to a sharp hitch of breath as your teeth scraped skin.

“I was half expectin’ you t’try to organize a threesome or maybe one of those group orgies y’seem so interested in,” you teased, throwing his earlier line back at him and after a moment Nathan cleared his throat, his hands gripping your arms pulling you up short.

“Yeah, well, as hot as two girls makin’ out it is, I don’t really fancy the thought of sharin’ yeh.”

His words brought a grin to your face and you shifted your hips, teasingly grinding against him, leaving you both wanting more.

“Good, cause I’m not really into sharing either,” you whispered, relishing the dazed grin that lit up his face before you claimed his lips for a kiss, guiding him into you.

Leaning back to anchor your hands on his thighs, your first thrust drew him deeper and you smirked as you began to move, rolling your hips lazily as his gaze hungrily traveled up your body, so temptingly on display for him; his hands swiftly following, greedily claiming every inch of you as his until desperation clutched the pair of you and Nathan pulled you back to him, wanting to feel your skin against his.

Practically crushing you to him as he impatiently bucked into you, meeting each quickening thrust of your hips with his until your flat was filled with your breathless moans and gasps. Nathan’s insistent lips swallowed your cries until you were a mindless writhing, rutting mess, chasing your climax head long off the precipice while Nathan held out longer, each wild thrust overstimulating you further until tears rolled down your cheeks and he quickly pulled out to come against his stomach.

Too tired and sated and way past caring about the mess — knowing you’d need a shower anyway, you collapsed against him, burying your face in his unruly dark curls you loved so much as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that?” he murmured against you, his words muffled so you barely heard him.

“You’re pretty great yourself, contrary to popular belief,” you replied, feeling him squeeze you tighter.

Waiting for the off hand self-deprecating comment that usually followed your compliments, none came, and taken aback you pulled back, just far enough to look into his eyes, to be met with a hesitant grin.

“You really think so?” Nathan asked softly, hopefully.

Pressing a kiss to his sweat dampened forehead you fixed him with an unwavering look. “I really do,” you answered. “Why d’you think I’m datin’ yeh, huh?” you teased, his grin widening.

“Now, maybe we should… clean up, because this is starting’ t’feel a tad bit gross,” you pointed out, wanting to at least wipe off your stomach where you’d been pressed against his “rapidly cooling spunk” as he’d once put it.

“Aw, c’mon, just admit you like it filthy,” Nathan exclaimed, releasing his hold on you so you could stand and help him up, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“If I admit t’that will you come take a shower with me so we can get filthy all over again?”

You didn’t have to ask him twice.

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x reader #nathan young smut #nathan young imagines #misfits imagines #my writing #prompt request #anonymous

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thevoilinauttheory · 3 years

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MAHI Prompt: Needed No More

[ Using the words: DON’T, UNSEEN ]

[ back at it again at krispy kreme boys- things aren’t necessarily slowing down, but they aren’t as fast or stressful as before... for now. In this down time, I’mma introduce my newest character because I hate myself and want another one. ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ Content Warnings: Death, oblique drug mention ] [ When (because I fucked up the timeline and need to get it straight lmao): Before the WoL’s infiltration of Castrum Centri ]

====

“Ash, yer needed ‘gain.” “Ugh… can’t they just… I dunno, give us the information? This is so much work…” “Then why in th’hells did you sign up for this! Get yer arse out there, lazy whoreson.” “Yeesh, calm down, calm down…”

Ashley was never the type to work fast, everyone of his team knew that; but when they needed an expert, they always turned to him. For some reason. Plenty of other experts out there, plenty of more willing people. He needed to make money somehow, though. He stood himself up, snuffing out whatever he was smoking this time (they’ve stopped guessing, at this point, it seemed to be the one of the definitions of entropy); then took his good sweet time stretching, joints cracking here and there.

“We don’t really got much time, buddy. Airship’s leavin’ soon.” “Slow’s the name of the game, buddy. Go too fast and you’re like to mess it up.” “I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout th’job, I’m talkin’ ‘bout th’godsdamned airship! Th’fact that we gotta rely on ye’ is a fate crueler than torture… gettin’ inta this sorta job, never sober.” “Sober enough to know that you are about to miss your airship. I can get there myself if I gotta, but you’re not rushing me.”

The man did just that, he let out an annoyed huff and joined the rest of his group to shove them towards the airship landing - while Ashley quietly gathered up his belongings, throwing the packs onto his back. The last of his smoke was stuffed into a repurposed flask as he meandered his way to the bar. One last request, of course, a drink for the road. And then, to join his team.

In the opposite direction.

No, instead, he left towards Black Brush on foot. While he was never given the information of where they were going, he knew the general direction of where the lead they had gotten was. He took this time to enjoy himself, drink a little - stop by the next bar for another - then took himself into the North.

“Whu- how in th’hells did y’get here ‘fore us!” “Honestly, I’m more surprised that he didn’t teleport here.” “Eh. Too much effort.” Ashley took his place… beneath a tree, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Says the guy who walked here from Ul’dah! Right through a damned Imperial Castrum! The one we’re supposed to be surveying, too.”

His eyes opened again, taking the time to reflect over his current team. Infiltration was their game, and they would’ve appeared to have been the least qualified for the job.

A heavily set, heavily clad beast of a Highlander - Hunter - sporting a massive axe that, honestly, he could’ve swung with one hand. Never the best with people, yet he oozed “you can trust me with your life”. Colette was an Elezen woman tasked with keeping them alive, not the best healer in the world, but she had a handle on things when they got rough. She’d rather keep her nose in books than the world around her, but she was the most attentive than the rest of them… not including himself, of course. Then there was Ruta, an Auri woman from Hingashi - she was the real stealth behind the whole operation. In fact, they wouldn’t have called on him if they thought she could get it done. The fact that they thought she couldn’t was worrying enough. Both she and Colette entered the group as a couple, and there could’ve never been a better pair.

“Ugh.. okay. Fine. I’ll lead us in.” Not even two minutes of rested eyes before he got up again… even more stretching, much to the dismay of Hunter. “Gods above, yer gonna be th’death o’me.” “Nah, worse. You’re gonna deal with me for the rest of your very long life.” “Great. Sounds like a helluva time.” Hunter slammed a palm on his back, forcing him forward. All in good fun, found-family is like to mess around - and after years of working together, it was hard for any of them to not smile or joke around. Even in the face of danger or on a job.

“Ruta, wait!” Ashley called out a whisper to the woman as she took the lead, staying low and out of sight - mostly out of sight. Wisps of her hair were caught as she moved, giving a few soldiers some confusion and a need to investigate. She, thankfully, made it out of sight - with the rest like that as well. When she peeked back at her group, Ash narrowed his eyes and scowled… but he couldn’t really say much. “You two, stay here - and do not fucking move.”

It was rare that he ever seemed so urgent - that’s what caused both Colette and Hunter to stay still and quiet, to wait for a motion to call them over. Ash poked his head out from around the corner, watching and processing. He took in the amount of time between each patrol, which way the security and cameras faced, when they turned- he moved the moment he knew it was safe, keeping himself low to the ground as he set himself beside Ruta. “What in the hells are you thinking, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” “But I didn’t. You can see better from here anyways - so call them over.” “And get them killed too? Piss off. I’ll get them over here safely, thank you. No wonder they called for me…”

Again, he waited with his head around the corner. Just two ticks before it would be ready, he held up one finger, then beckoned one of them over. It was Colette first. They needed her most to keep them from being injured. She ducked her head down and quietly tipped her way over to them - immediately scolding Ruta as well, when she was safe to. Ash took to watching again.

“Swivin’... they’re in the middle of a shift change. That’s- that’s real bad for us, right now.” He turned his attention to where the next soldiers were pouring from, where he might be able to find an opening. When he did - and gods, did it feel like an eternity - he beckoned Hunter over. The man was getting impatient, but there was no room for that in this job. He was surprisingly silent for a man dressed in heavy armors… but it was the catch of his pauldron against a wall that set everything in motion.

Ashley could see the outcome from a malm away. And it ended in Hunter standing his ground against a rush of soldiers and machinery. “Hunter, dammit, get over here! We can face this as a group- we’re better together, now get your arse over here!” “N’ get y’killed too? No way, get th’information we need n’get out - I’ve got this.” “Like hells you do!” “Ashley! Come on- just listen to him!” Ruta tugged on his belt, forcing him back. “You’ll get us caught if you keep yelling like that.” “Hunter, I’m gonna kick your arse when we get outta here…” “Lookin’ forward t’it, buddy.”

The real end came when they turned to head the opposite direction. Fear never showed itself to him, not usually. Maybe fear of getting his behind handed to him on a rusty platter by Hunter, or his hair and ears tugged on by Colette, or Ruta stealing his smokes-- never fear of getting caught, or killed, or failing a job. But that fear was there now.

And Colette was the first to fall. On immediate sight was a bullet to her head.

“Colette!” Ruta tried to reach for her, but it was he that pulled her back and away. “Ruta you need to run, now! Get out of here!” “No, no! I won’t leave her!” “She’s dead, Ruta! It doesn’t matter if you leave or stay, so you need to leave!”

This was the problem with having a romantic relationship with someone on your team, he had always figured. The pain of possibly watching them die. She didn’t listen. …Then she was next. There was no way of her escaping three imperials on their tails. He did what he could and ran for Hunter again. He, much to Ash’s relief, was able to hold himself well. Beat up and bloodied, sure, but alive enough to keep fighting.

“Ash! I told y’t’get outta here!” “Colette and Ruta are down, we need to get outta here!” “What-” “Don’t question, go!” There was no more questioning - while he and Hunter always butt heads, the man wasn’t stupid. Now wasn’t the time, and he could see that. That’s all it took for their boots to hit the ground towards the exit. They seemed in the clear to get out of there, so close they were, even as the gates began to close. It was as if all of their accrued bad luck came into play in one moment.

With another fire of a gun, Ashley found himself face first into the metal road; his foot was the victim, and standing was going to be hells. “Ash, get yerself up!” “I’m tryin’! Shite, gods, get to the exit!” “Like hells!” Instead of watching him struggle, Hunter scooped him up into his arms to run twice as fast towards freedom - only to realize those few seconds cost them greatly in terms of time. Ash had little time to really comprehend the situation. Right after he had been picked up, he was thrown - forced to roll through the gates, watching them close just before Hunter could make it. The last he saw of him was a smile and thumbs up.

The next sounds he heard were the poor souls who thought they could get close to the hulk… and then silence.

“Were you able to get any information?” “...No.” “I thought you were supposed to be the best.” “Karma decided to compromise our positions.” “Not blaming your own failings?” “...You said it yourself, we were the best. It was… a series of unfortunate coincidences.” “Coincidences don’t get information.” “Yeah, I coulda told you that. Now, are you gonna keep berating me while I’m grieving, or am I free to leave?” “Guess we’ll have to find someone better than the best, get out of here.” “Thank gods.”

#prompt #history will be written #about: Ashley Tucker #if people like these stories i might finish making him in game #"orz i'm torn about how he looks lol #all i know is that i want him to be garbage #there's a little hint to the outcome in this one ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿#that's the same kinda hint in one of Amosis's prior prompts #not necessarily related #but still the same kind of hint #virtues and vices

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three-fold-symmetry · 3 years

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hi! just came to say that i love your blog, your art style is magnificent, not to mention how you draw motion (cody tackling palapatine lives rent free in my head)— your art never fails to brighten my day :) also, i’m in love with the wrestle-verse, the sheer and utter chaos of cody— the usually composed and respectful marshall commander— just snapping and beating the absolute shit out of everybody that’s wronged either him or somebody close to him, 11/10 it’s glorious and i love it especially because nobody’s gonna expect cody to be the first to snap. that being said, i’ve been cackling over the thought of cody trying to find a way to fight qui-gon after hearing about all the shite obi-wan put up with (cue waxer and boil in the background with a ouija board/summoning circle and cody sneaking up behind gui-gon’s force ghost with a bat or smth, ready to fight a non-corporeal being, and having it somehow actually work) anyways, this series as a whole is very cathartic and entertaining, so thank you much for that one. sorry, this has been long, goodbye + i hope you’re having a good day!!!

Aaah, thank you so much! I’ve been having one hell of a week and you cannot imagine how much your message warmed my heart! Especially the bit about drawing motion, because that’s something I feel like I struggle with often.

I’m also very happy that you enjoy the wrestle-verse, because it is my absolute favourite thing to draw! Cody deserves to kick some ass and there are a lot of people in Star Wars who deserve to get their asses kicked. :D It’s a win-win situation!

And I love your idea! I hadn’t thought about Qui-Gon just yet, but he definitely has is coming for leaving Obi-Wan with all that mess. And I do believe I’ve already got something concrete in mind. So there might be a drawing later today. Tomorrow at the latest. :D

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years

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A, The Bachelor AU please?

Sirius hated this show. He really, truly did. A whole bunch of desperate women who'd been told they were worthless for half their lives felt pressured into auditioning because they were the scandalous age of twenty-four and not yet married. And then there were the bloody men that signed on, looking forward to free dates and sex (in the later episodes) without having to do any of the legwork of actually finding dates.

That being said, Sirius wasn't so secure in his finances that he could afford to quit. As part of the crew, he had all his expenses paid for for the duration of the season, and a hefty check to go home with. If he thought that he could get work somewhere else, he would. He'd applied and been rejected more times than he could count, and the longer he worked on The Bachelor, the harder it was for non-reality shows to consider him. He'd only gotten onto this show because Remus had already been working on it. To be fair to Remus, he'd warned Sirius that it was horrible from the very beginning, but the bills had started piling up and being a waiter just wasn't cutting it.

While he was working, he kept his mind on the framing of the shot and not anything that was happening inside of it. It was only when the work was done for the day that he let himself complain, even in his head.

He was so used to ignoring all of the people that appeared in front of the camera that he almost tripped over his feet when he saw who the Bachelor this season was. Bloody gorgeous was the only phrase coming to mind, and he couldn't get his brain to work past that. All the past Bachelors that Sirius had met looked basically the same. White skin, light brown hair, vague five o'clock shadow, and a smile that looked like it had been purchased directly from a dentist's advert. They were never really skin or really buff, just somewhere in the middle, but not so much in the middle that they'd be considered out of shape; it was so much nothing that it drove Sirius up the bloody wall.

This guy though, he looked nothing like the others. He could've been plucked directly from Sirius's imagination. He reminded Sirius a lot of James, his boyfriend from secondary school. They'd broken up when James went back to India for uni, and he hadn't heard from him since.

Sirius cocked his head, then gaped. That was James. What the sodding hell was he doing here? "James?" he blurted.

James looked over when he heard his name, then grinned. It still made Sirius's heart stutter in his chest. "Sirius? Bugger, it's good to see you." He hugged him, and Sirius hugged him back automatically. He felt the same way in Sirius's arms as he remembered, even though they were both older.

"What the hell are you doing here? I didn't think this sort of show was your thing."

James's mouth twisted. "I lost a bet. In my defense, I never thought they'd actually accept me. Lily couldn't stop laughing when I got the news."

"You still talk to Lily?"

"Well, she ended up at the same uni as me, so it was easy. Plus she didn't speak any Hindi when she first got there, so she kind of needed someone to help translate." James gave a helpless shrug. "I tried to look you up, but you weren't talking to your parents anymore, so."

"Yeah." He hadn't wanted to be easy to find, but that was because of his family, not anything to do with long lost friends. He didn't feel like explaining that, but James probably knew it anyways. "So if you don't want to be here for the usual reasons, what are you planning on doing?"

James shrugged again, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I dunno. When it gets to the end, I guess I could just not give a rose to either of them and that would work, right?"

"Not sure," Sirius admitted. There was a formula to how the show was supposed to go, but they broke the rules every once in a while if they thought it made it more interesting. "They might have you fake it just to have a finale," he said, because they'd done shite like that before.

"Really? They'd do that?"

"It's a scripted show, mate."

"Great," James said flatly. "I'm really looking forward to this."

"Kinda sounds like you shouldn't have lost the bet."

"Shouldn't you be on my side?" James asked.

"How would that be funny?"

James snorted, then made a disgusted face when someone called his name. "See you later?" he asked hopefully, taking slow steps backwards so they knew he'd heard them.

"Definitely."

James grinned before leaving, and it lit up his entire face.

Sirius's heart ached for a moment. Good to know that he was still in love with James even though it had been years. Their break up had been sad, but inevitable. James had known where he was going to uni since before they'd even met (let alone started dating), and it would've been stupid for him to have changed his plans for Sirius. Even if he'd offered to stay, Sirius would've insisted that he go. Maybe, since James wasn't here for the relationship promised at the end of the show, Sirius could see if he was interested in getting back together.

"Was that James?" Remus asked, and Sirius jumped; he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard him coming.

"Yeah," Sirius said.

Remus kindly did not mention that he'd surprised him. "Huh. I didn't know he was back in the country. I talked to Lily last week and she didn't mention it. What's he doing here? You back together?"

"Not yet," Sirius said automatically, then had to correct himself. "I mean, I have to ask him if he's still interested. He's not here for me."

"Then what's he doing here?"

"He's this season's bachelor. He lost a bet," Sirius said, preempting the next question.

"Fucking hell," Remus muttered. "This'll be interesting."

James showed up at Sirius's door-- Sirius didn't have to ask to know that Remus had told him which room he was in-- that night when shooting was done. "That was miserable."

"I'll only get worse," Sirius warned. "After they start pretending to actually like you, they get more catty."

"What makes you think they won't like me? I'm a damn catch."

Sirius snorted, shoving at his shoulder.

James caught his hand before he could pull away. Their eyes met. And held.

Mark that down as definitely still interested, Sirius thought to himself, somewhat giddily. Neither of them said anything, but sometimes they didn't need to. This was how it had all started for them at Hogwarts. They'd had to reassure each other after a while that yes they fancied each other and wanted to date, but that initial interest had been easy to spot-- and it was the same now as it had been then.

"I really missed you," James whispered.

"I missed you too. Kinda sucked not being able to talk to you."

"Yeah," James said with a crooked smile. He let go of Sirius's hand and turned to face him a little more fully. "Look, I know it's... been a while, and maybe you're dating someone else-"

"I'm not."

"Good to hear," James said, fondness seeping into his expression. "I know the timing's utter shite-- with the show and everything-- but I'd like to give us another try. I mean, we were good together. Really good."

"We were," Sirius agreed, smiling at him return. "How about this. We work on the show in the day, and at night, we just... do this. Talk. Catch up. If we're both still interested when filming's done, then we can talk about where we go from there."

"Should I start working on my talking points now or?"

Sirius snorted. He'd missed this.

As it turned out, the producers opted to let James choose neither of the finalists because they had enough footage to make up the drama elsewhere. James was unspeakably relieved about that, and if he was honest, Sirius was happy about it too; he knew that it wouldn't have meant anything if James had had to pretend to choose one of the contestants, but it was nice all the same.

Because James was an absolute sap, when he went to Sirius that night, he brought him a red rose. He even had a little smile on his face like he knew exactly how corny it was and loved it for that very reason. "Do you accept this rose?" James asked.

"You're so buggering stupid," Sirius said, the words not near enough to hide the blush on his face.

"That's not the line."

"I'm making it one," Sirius said. He snatched the rose from James and pulled him into a kiss.

#prongsfoot #marauders #sirius black #james potter #fanfic #filled #no magic au #post hogwarts #getting together #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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snapetrash · 4 years

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so I wrote a crack fic where Snape and Harry smoke weed and talk about their problems. kinda. It’s posted on Ao3 if you want to read it there. It’s pretty ooc and an adult smokes weed and tobacco with an underage student, so there’s your warning for moral ambiguity. Starts at the beginning of book 5, in an AU where everything is the same except Harry picks up a smoking habit to self medicate his slightly crippling anxiety and depression. Looking for a Beta so let me know if you’re interested!!!

Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had been here for weeks while he had to deal with his relatives, and fucking demetors- what a load of bollocks. Harry dumped his trunk and bags in his room and made a beeline for the attic of Grimmauld Place, grabbing his pack of menthols and lighter as he went.

They’d arrived at the Order headquarters a little after 2 am, so he knew no one would come looking for him until morning. He’d told Remus after a brief hug that he was exhausted before he’d headed to his room. Harry climbed the rickety, spiraling stairs leading to the topmost floor of Grimmauld without so much as a glance behind him.

Harry knew Sirius was in the house somewhere, and probably awake, but anxiety and anger had tied his stomach in knots. He would go see his godfather after his smoke. After. Everything had to come after he’d had a moment to himself, or he’d blow up and regret everything.

As he struggled to wrench open the window, he briefly considered smoking inside, smell and lingering smoke bedamned, but as the thought crossed his mind the window gave a little shriek and popped open. Harry crawled out onto the dirty shingles and moved to sit beside the window, looking out onto the backyard of the house.

He opened his pack, pulled out a joint and popped it in his mouth, lighting up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. Harry’s eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply, pulling in air after his hit and exhaling, long and measured. As he went to take another hit, he opened the pack of cigarettes one more time to retrieve a menthol and tuck it behind his ear, for later. His hair was such a mess that it covered the white of the paper completely, and kept the fug from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be fun if he was caught and chewed out by Mrs. Weasley for smoking.

The sky was dark and overcast, sounds of the city muffled by the powerful wards on the house. It was a fairly hot night, temperature perfect for Harry and his penchant for being chilly in all seasons. After three or four hits he could feel the tension bleed from his body, finally making way for bone deep exhaustion.

“ Potter, what on earth-” If Harry hadn’t been halfway through his joint, he would’ve startled at the sound of Snape’s irritated growl coming from the window beside him. But he’d been awake for more than 24 hours, and hadn’t had a decent meal for just as long. The energy to care about being caught smoking on a roof by his professor? He just didn’t have it at the moment.

“Are you smoking pot?” The utter incredulity in the Potion Master’s voice prompted Harry to actually turn and look at the other man. Snape was leaning out the window, arms braced on the sil with his wand in a relatively loose grip. He was wearing what looked like a long sleeve tee and worn sweatpants- both black of course- but surprisingly muggle. It made the older man look softer, younger; the small part of Harry’s brain that hadn’t checked out the moment he lit up was shocked at how Snape looked, even as he glared at him.

There were other things Harry noticed about him too; his paler-than-usual pallor, the way his body seemed wound tight like a spring and the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes. Snape wasn’t staring him down, not like usual. No, he seemed like maybe he’d come for a bit of solitude too. In fact, when Harry’s gaze flicked down to the potion master’s hands he saw a wooden pipe, shiny and black just like the rest of him, clutched in his non-wand hand.

It was 2 am and everyone else in the house was probably in bed. Harry realized he’d been staring, not answering, and Snape was looking tenser and moodier by the second.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” He blurted out, immediately regretting everything. Fuck, he was gonna get so many detentions. But Snape was wearing pajamas, it was beyond strange, and Harry had gone ahead and said the first thing that’d come to his mind like a complete idiot.

Snape gave him a look of utter loathing, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Harry couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes, and again did something incredibly stupid. Marijuana in the wizarding world didn’t hold the same weight as it did for muggles, but still. He was sure there was a rule written somewhere that said ‘thou shalt not smoke cannabis with thy potions master.’ or something.

Harry offered him the joint wordlessly. It was quite a normal gesture, in general terms; Snape stared at the offending apparatus in what seemed like numb shock, his eyes a little wide, his mouth drawn down into a tight line. It hung in the air between them, and just as Harry thought that maybe he really was going to die at the hands of his teacher that hated him, the older wizard reached out and plucked the burning thing from his fingers.

The moment Snape took it, instead of watching him(his fucking professor!) Harry grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up just in time to see Snape exhale a fat cloud of smoke and look at the joint with a thoughtful expression. After a moment they swapped; Snape had the cigarette and Harry had the joint.

The younger wizard watched the other inhale and grimace, before his professor quietly muttered. “Of course you would smoke this muggle menthol crap.”

Harry snorted. “You certainly aren’t the first one to give me shit for it.”

This was probably the quietest, nicest moment he’d ever had in Snape’s presence. Who knew all it took was a little weed to win over the nasty dungeon bat? Harry had to force a cough, lest he giggle at the thought.

The deserted city before them had infected both wizards with a sense of calm; no nightmares, or oaths or dark lords could reach them here. When Harry saw the joint going down, he pulled out another and put the other out in seamless rotation. Snape made a soft noise that might’ve been a scoff, but otherwise said nothing and took a long drag of the new joint.

Neither man knew how they’d stumbled upon this fragile peace, but they weren’t going to go out of their way to break it now. Still, Harry couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“I keep waiting to wake up from this bizarre dream, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He muttered with humor.

Snape side-eyed him, blowing a bit of smoke out before fucking smirking “Why does it matter? No one would believe you if you told them about this.”

That had Harry fighting back horrified laughter, coughing a little on the smoke caught in his throat, because this was another level and who knew his evil git of a teacher could be so devious? In a funny way, not his usual ‘Potter, detention for breathing’ way. Stealing a glance at Snape, he saw that he’d relaxed a lot more. He had an elbow on the sill, his chin propped up in his hand- and a little quirk on his lips that was almost a smile.

This side of Snape was completely new to Harry; but he vowed silently to himself that he’d try to draw it out as often as he could. Clearly the guy was under a lot of pressure, playing for both sides. Maybe he was a completely different person, outside of all the acting and playing the field he had to do.

“You’re different, like this.” Harry’s brain to mouth filter had said sayonara at this point; the small part of his mind that was rational, and screaming at him to ‘shut up, Potter, you utter wanker’ was drowned out by his high and the strange night.

“I know we have to keep hating each other- keep up appearances, I mean- um. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I just- I’ve been realizing how much you do for the war, for me and I- You’re not a bad guy at all, is what I might be saying. Who knows, I’m stoned. Ignore me.” Please, Harry, shut the fuck up now.

Snape’s burning gaze bore holes into his forehead as he hurriedly stuck his fug in his mouth to silence himself. The younger wizard didn’t take his eyes off his own hands, cheeks burning, waiting for the end.

“Why in Merlin’s name would you want to spend any more time with me than you have to? It’s not like I haven’t given you every reason to hate me that I could think of.” The older man replied, and oh god, both of them were way too tired and totally not sober enough to have this kind of conversation. If they were sober they would never have it in the first place.

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, not sure how to respond. “Well it’s not like I didn’t figure that out eventually- and you’re one of the few people in this entire, fucked up secret society that treats me like a normal person. From everyone else it’s either hero worship, pity, or they hate me for shite I can’t control.” He paused and took another drag of his cigarette. “Or they expect me to be a carbon copy of my dad. I guess you also did that for a while too, but you have to keep up appearances for the all the kids reporting back to their death eater parents.”

Snape turned his eyes on Harry again, showing a myriad of emotions across his face, all hard to decipher. He seemed almost angry. “Don’t be daft. I publicly humiliate you whenever I have the chance. I’m not a nice man, it wasn’t always an act!”

“Well you just admitted that it’s an act now! Why are you so afraid to admit you like me, professor?” That shut Snape up pretty effectively, because all he did was relight the joint that had gone out in his hands.

Harry sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees, facing Snape. “You’ve always reminded me of my muggle teachers in elementary, kind of. The ones that knew from speaking to Petunia that I was a delinquent, but were still determined to teach me. It gave me a sense of normalcy amongst all the magic, in a place where suddenly I was popular and sought after for a glorified tragedy I don’t even remember. I dunno.” he laughed bitterly, remembering his first year. The months after his letter came, wondering if he’d go to sleep after classes that night and wake up in the cupboard.

Snape looked very tired, as if every word Harry spoke took what little energy he had left. “You’re not anything like your father was, as your age. How could you be, you’ve never met the man.” He mumbled the last sentence, but Harry heard it anyway.

“Exactly! You understand. Fuck.” The teenager took a shaking breath, and then the joint when Snape passed it to him. They fumbled for a second when he nearly dropped it, hands brushing in the dark, but it made its way into Harry’s shaking hands and he hit it once, with feeling.

After a few minutes of silence in which they finished the second joint, and Snape lit his pipe(which to Harry’s surprise) actually had weed in it. They passed it back and forth for a little while longer.

“Albus wants me to teach you Legilimency this year. You’ll come to my office once a week after class, and call it remedial potions when anyone asks.”

“Cool, we’ll be able to hang out more without anyone around to ruin it.” Harry replied absently. When he realized that he’d just indicated, verbally, that he’d enjoy hanging out with Snape(and his mind was really blown at that one) he looked up to see Snape staring at him with his eyebrow raised, a picture of unimpressed.

“You realize you’re going to actually have to learn to be a Legilimens, right Potter?”

“Oh yeah. It might just be the weed, but I’m feeling much better about it now than I would’ve if we hadn’t had this conversation.” The teen replied with good humor. It was true; he was feeling much better about Snape in general. Harry remembered how much of a hardass his professor was, and was quick to reassure him. “I’ll do my best to learn all I can from you.”

Snape’s face softened a little. “See that you do, Potter.” He straightened, Placing his pipe in his pocket and pulling himself back into the attic. The older man reached a hand out for Harry to help him inside. “Come now. It’s bedtime for wizarding saviors.”

Harry smiled, caught the larger, rougher hand in his own and allowed himself to be lightly manhandled back into the attic. He felt beyond tired. When he stumbled on the stairs, Snape dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and left it there.

“To the kitchen first, I have a vial of dreamless sleep for you.” Snape said quietly. The younger man grunted a wordless acknowledgement and they made their way together through the house. The potions master beelined to a high cabinet in the corner and pulled out two small bottles, uncorking one and downing it and passing the other to Harry.

“Thanks, professor. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Snape was rewarded with a blinding smile as Harry made his way upstairs. He went to his room, and fell asleep quicker than he’d had in years.

#severitus #ooc characters #crack treated seriously #crack fic

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onthepageoftears · 4 years

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Kill Your Darlings Ch. 17 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Long chapter is long. This was actually supposed to be longer, but I decided to split the rest of it into next chapter, so next chapter will be longer as well. Pretty sure this series will be 20 chapters, so we only have 3 left! Can you believe it?? There may be more of this series after it’s over though, but we’ll have to see if people want more when it’s over...;)

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: The truth is slowly unraveling.

Warnings: language, gore, graphic violence, mentions of kidnapping/murder/adultery, insinuations of child abuse (very lightly insinuated), some pining, a little angst, and a heaping cup of comfort :)

Words: 3,906

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The sun was still high in the sky by the time the three of you found the place from the note. To be honest, you didn’t actually know the place from the note was a bandit camp until you made it to the road and saw a group of bandits walking through the woods. Well, more like Geralt saw them and made you and Jaskier follow him as he trailed them from a distance, beckoning all of you over to a hill that lay a safe enough distance away from the camp.

As you and Geralt surveyed from the small hilltop, Jaskier’s nervous chatter clouded any chance you had at making a plan.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Attacking in the day? What if they see us?”

Your eyes were dark when you turned to him, “Who says we don’t want them to?”

That got him quiet. It also gave enough time for you and Geralt to watch over the scene before you, silently coming up with your own strategies.

This camp was larger than the last one. More spread out. But that didn’t mean anything to you, other than the fact that there was more room to fight.

Though the camp was bigger, there weren’t too many guards on the perimeter — but, unlike the last camp, there were multiple entrances, and enough men to guard them.

Finally, Geralt spoke, “Three guards at the front entrance, only two in the back.”

“Take the ones in the back out, there’s a clear opening to sneak inside.”

Jaskier looked between you and Geralt, his disbelief clear on his face, “Y/N, you are not going in there like last time.”

You smirked at his protective tone, which might have annoyed you before. You nodded, “I know.” Jutting your head to the bandits near the back of the camp, you turned to the bard. “One of em’ has a bow.”

Jaskier blinked, then squinted to see that you were right.

Despite the obvious protest on Jaskier’s face, you and Geralt snuck down to the back of the camp, where the two guards were idly standing by. Geralt wordlessly gestured for you to take the smaller man, and when you widened your eyes in protest, all Geralt did was look pointedly at your leg. You rolled your eyes, but complied anyway.

Geralt grabbed the man closest to the two of you, knocking him in the head with the end of his sword. You didn’t bother being so modest — just as the second guy was turning around, you threw one of your knives, hitting him right in his jugular. He gurgled as he fell to the ground, and Geralt glared at your actions before rushing over to pull his body out of view. You shrugged when he handed you your knife and the bandit’s bow and pack of arrows, ignoring the careful glare he was sending you.

You regrouped on the hill with Jaskier, keeping an eye on the camp as you did so. No one seemed to notice the missing bandits — at least, not yet.

“The note I have made Hotch seem important.” You dropped the arrows to the ground beside you, then tested the bow’s strength and stretched the string carefully. It was pretty nice, despite its quality.

“He’s probably the leader.”

“Exactly. And the leader would probably have the nicest tent with the guards outside.” You drew their attention to the tent that sat in the middle of the camp, two guards on either side of the closed entrance.

“How do we know he’s in there?” Jaskier spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

“We don’t,” you said, biting your lip. “But that’s our best guess. So we should start from the outside and clear the perimeter until someone notices. Then Geralt will have to swing his way through, and we hope we have enough arrows to help."

“Works for me,” Geralt said, already standing up to go. “I’ll start from the back and work my way around. Only shoot the ones who are hidden as well.”

You nodded, then turned back to Jaskier as Geralt walked back towards the camp. It would be easier if Jaskier went back to guard the horses, keeping him out of trouble and leaving you to your…business. “Jaskier, you should go—“

“No. I’m staying with you.”

You frowned at his defiant tone. “Jaskier—“

“No.” Jaskier sighed when he noticed the surprise in your eyes. “I know why you needed to be away from me for Joneta. You didn’t want to be alone, you wanted to be—“ He stopped himself when he saw your eyes were wider. “It doesn’t matter. But right now, I’m staying with you.”

You blinked, your voice smaller than usual, “Why?”

“Because I…care”

You tried to ignore the heat that rose to your skin at his words, especially since Geralt was almost at the edge of the camp. You didn’t know what answer you thought he would give, but it wasn’t that. You let in a sharp breath, not knowing what to say. After a second, you settled on simple, “Okay.”

Turning away from the bard, you readied an arrow in the bow and stretched your arm back, simultaneously ignoring the way Jaskier’s eyes trailed over your body. You pushed down the feeling in your stomach even as you noticed Jaskier lick his lips and quickly turn away, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. Maybe you thought Jaskier being by the horses would keep him safe, but it would also keep you less distracted.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and focused on Geralt, who had managed to take out two of the bandits that lingered outside. Your eyes narrowed as he snuck by some of the tents, probably to see if any bandits were inside. He was about to check one tent when a bandit emerged from another, forcing him to slip through the tent’s opening. You followed the bandit with your eyes, making sure to keep him in your range of fire.

The bandit yawned and stretched — he looked like he was talking when he walked over to the tent beside his, where Geralt was currently hiding.

“Shit,” Jaskier breathed, his eyes on the same place as yours.

You kept target steady, “Any bandits near that one?”

“Uh…no. No, none.”

“Good.” With a deep breath in, you released the string from your fingers, causing the arrow to soar through the air and sink right into the bandit’s skull.

Jaskier’s eyes were back on you, “Holy shite.”

You hid a smirk as Geralt dragged the bandit’s body into the tent, already readying your bow with another arrow.

Though you and Geralt were far apart, you worked in near perfect understanding. Silent nods were often used when you fought together the last time, but even without the visual confirmations, you two seemed to read each other’s minds. Geralt would sneak up to two bandits who were sharing a meal, and you would wordlessly shoot the opposite one with an arrow as Geralt choked the other one out. It was working well, with you two getting through a good amount of the guards — but of course, that working system would have to end.

Geralt was currently choking yet another bandit — as he kept sneaking around the camp, more bandits seemed to show up. It was like when one went down, another sprung from the dirt. Up until then, Geralt was able to isolate them and take them out one at a time; to your dismay, another bandit happened to be nearing where Geralt was, where he would be in clear view of the witcher.

You reached down, only then realizing there were no more arrows. You turned your gaze back to where Geralt was —

“We’ve got trouble here!” The bandit’s voice was loud enough for you and Jaskier to curse in unison — Geralt had been spotted.

As you watched the scene below, you cursed to your self again. With a grunt, you pushed yourself to your feet, “We have to go down there.”

“What?” Jaskier grabbed your arm, his eyes wild, “No, no we don’t!”

“Yes, we do.”

“We aren’t going in there. Geralt can handle himself—“

“Jaskier.” You put your hands on the bard’s shoulders so he would look you in the eyes, “Trust me.”

After a moment, Jaskier rolled his eyes with a huff, slinging one of your arms over his shoulder, steadying you as the two of you descended the hill. When you got the bottom, you and Jaskier snuck into the camp while Geralt continued to fight the bandits that were surrounding him.

You and Jaskier shoved yourselves behind a group of barrels, just far enough that you could practically feel the swings of swords and slashes of skin. It made you want to just rush right into the battle, despite your wounds — but Jaskier’s worried gaze on you kept you back, kept you grounded. Your eyes searched wildly around you, landing on a body nearby.

Without a word, you crawled the short distance and wrenched the crossbow that was in the dead body’s hands. The body had a couple of arrows — not enough to take out all the bandits, but enough to help Geralt a little bit.

You positioned yourself over the barrels in front of you, using the surface to keep your shots steady. Jaskier crouched beside you, holding a hand on the small of your back to keep you upright as your leg was laid straight to the side, previously throwing off your balance. As his touch shot fire up your skin, you pulled back the bowstring and lined up your shot with a bandit who was swinging a mace at Geralt’s head.

“Argh!” The bandit fell to the ground, screaming in pain as he flailed to try and rip the arrow from his now punctured back. You barely flinched as he did so, only focusing on reloading the bow.

Geralt seemed to notice the two of you had moved, as he was purposefully shifting his body so he could face your direction. The bandits didn’t notice your location yet, which was an advantage for the three of you. You continued to shoot arrows at the ones surrounding Geralt, taking them out as quickly as you could.

Of course, that wouldn’t last either.

“Shit,” Jaskier cursed when he noticed you were out of arrows. He whipped his head around the two of you, looking for something — anything, to help. Meanwhile, you had already tried to stand up to go help Geralt.

“No.” Jaskier pulled you back down, his concerned gaze beating your frown. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

You would have argued, but he was already sneaking off in the opposite direction. Your heart was pounding as soon as he left your sight, the worst ideas of what was happening to him popping into your head. At the sound of a frustrated grunt from Geralt, you shook the thoughts from your head, instead unsheathing your knives and aiming to throw them at any bandits close enough.

You had just reached for your last knife when a hand gripped your shoulder, “Here.”

You gasped in relief when you saw it was only Jaskier, who had returned with a handful of arrows.

Almost as soon as the relief filled your features, you narrowed your eyes at the bard, “Trying to get yourself killed?”

He only smiled. “For you? Anything.” You rolled your eyes, despite the way your stomach flipped. But Jaskier smiled wider, “What? I can’t be reckless too?”

You shook your head, instead focusing on reloading the crossbow.

You and Geralt took down a couple more bandits before you realized the guards from outside the main tent were gone. Geralt seemed to notice too — he sent you a look before he slashed his way towards the tent, hopefully going to stop them before they could get Hotch out of there.

There were still some bandits that could get in the way, but not too many that you couldn’t take them on yourself. The only way Geralt could make sure Hotch was still in the tent without getting ambushed was—

“Don’t do it.” Jaskier was looking at you, his warning glare making you bite your lip. How did he know what you were thinking?

You rolled your eyes,“Any better ideas?”

“Yes, actually.”

Before you knew what he was doing, he jumped up from behind the barrels and brought his fingers to his lips, erupting a sharp whistle that had the remaining three bandits whipping their heads in Jaskier’s direction.

“Use the barrels,” he said out of the corner of his mouth before he once again ran the opposite way. You would’ve laughed at his wimpy screech if not for the angry bandits that were running your way. Instead, you shifted your body and pushed one of the barrels out from in front of you, making two of the bandits trip over it and slam their faces in the ground. The last one stopped in time, and just as he made eye contact with you, you grabbed the crossbow off the ground and shot the last arrow right into his smug face.

Without another breath, you unsheathed your last knife and stabbed into the back of the other two bandit’s heads.

You were breathing heavily in your spot by the time Jaskier sauntered back into the now quiet camp.

Your eyes raised to his in a glare, “I thought you didn’t want me fighting? With my wounded leg?”

“Oh, come on. You were thirsting for the thrill of the fight the whole time.”

He was right, of course. Regardless of the throbbing in your leg, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was worse than any addiction you could have.

Still, you wanted to be mad at him.

You tilted your head to the side, “And what if I just let them get you?”

All he had to do was raise his eyebrows at you — you wouldn’t.

“Whatever,” you said, pushing yourself off the ground to collect your knives from wherever they had ended up on the mini battlefield.

Jaskier was helping you up from retrieving your last knife when the main tent’s entrance flipped open.

Geralt emerged from the tent, his face softening ever so slightly when he saw you. He sent you a curt nod and headed back inside, making you take a deep breath in. It was finally time to figure out what the hell was going on. It was time to know the truth.

“Are you ready?” Jaskier asked, his hand hovering over your lower back.

You nodded and followed after the witcher.

The tent was definitely nice. Well, besides the two dead bandit-guards that Geralt so neatly stacked in the corner, and the mess of a struggle. But before the three of you got there, you were sure it was a lovely space. A nice cot, a table full of newly shined weapons — someone had to call this place home at one point or another.

Geralt had already taken the liberty of tying the leader up, but left his mouth free to curse obscenities at you as you walked in.

“What the fuck do you want? Killing all my men—“

“Hotch, is it?” You stepped forward, crossing your arms over your chest. “A pleasure.”

“I’ll show you a pleasure—“ His scowl quickly turned into furious surprise as Jaskier stepped into the tent behind you. “You!”

“Normally my presence doesn’t emit that much hatred, but okay.” Jaskier’s playful tone almost made you smirk, but you kept your stone cold glare on the man on the ground. He nearly seethed at the sight of Jaskier, making a shiver go down your spine.

“You filthy prick, you insolent—I outta kill you right now, you scum of—“

“Enough!” You grabbed a sword off the table beside you, swiftly placing it under Hotch’s chin. You had enough of his venomous words, and to be honest, hearing him talk about Jaskier like that made your blood boil. Predictably, he shut up once the blade with under his throat.

You spoke slowly, “What do you want with the bard?”

“I want nothing.”

Hotch spit towards Jaskier. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, pressing the blade closer to his skin, “Why did you hire an assassin to kill him?”

“I did no such—“ You reminded him of the blade that trailed on his skin. It took a second for him to respond, but his words were spoken through gritted teeth, “He slept with my wife.”

You blinked, your face in scrunched up in confusion, “He what?”

Hotch sighed. His eyes glazed over as he dramatically recounted the memory, “She worked at an inn. I knew she was working late one night, so I went to visit her. And her boss pointed me to that pricks room. I caught them in the act.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice interrupted, “Oh! That was…rather embarrassing. Marion, was it?”

Hotch only gritted his teeth harder.

You turned and looked at Jaskier over your shoulder, who was cringing at the murderous glare Hotch sent him. He fixed his gaze on you with wide eyes, quickly plastering on a guilty smile and lifting his shoulders in a meek shrug. Before you could whack him over the head, you turned back towards Hotch.

With a sigh, you tilted the man’s chin up higher. “Worked? As in no longer does, as in is no longer alive?”

The bandit leader’s eyes looked away from yours in shame, “I tried to forgive her. To forget. But I couldn’t bear the sight of her face any longer after I found them."

You surprised yourself with a dry laugh, “He slept with your wife. So you killed her.” You tilted your head to the side, narrowing your eyes, “Hardly seems rational.”

“You don’t understand. I couldn’t get the scene out of my head. Even now, it haunts me every night. The betrayal. And seeing his posters everywhere, it only made it worse.”

You pursed you lips as you tried to read the man at your mercy. Even if he released the information rather quickly, it seemed like he was telling the truth — and his anger for Jaskier was definitely real. But that meant that Rauf had been fooled, somehow. This man broke the code of the fellowship, and fro that, you wanted to get more out of him.

The bard’s voice cut through the silence, “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know she was married.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sent a warning glare from behind Hotch.

“Right.”

Once Jaskier predictably shrunk backwards at Geralt’s tone, you decided to continue questioning, “We found your note at another smaller camp. The note was about a little girl.” You squinted your eyes, “What did you want with her?”

“Why should I tell you?”

Jaskier spoke before you could, “Because there is quite literally a sword under your chin.”

You shrugged when Hotch clenched his jaw and glared at you.

Fortunately he complied, “The assassin hasn’t been successful. Obviously.” Hotch’s eyes darkened, “I thought I would take it into my own hands to ruin his life.”

“Ruin his life?”

Hotch smirked, “What would make people hate him more than thinking he took a little girl for his own pleasure.”

Your back stiffened at the realization of his words, “You sick, sick fuck.” You pressed the sword harder into his throat, causing a trickle of blood to fall down his neck, “If you touched a hair on that little girl’s head—“

“We didn’t.” The leader smiled wider despite the steel against his skin. He looked at Jaskier. “He did.”

Your chest was heaving now from anger. Rationally, you knew Lilla was okay. You had saved her, after all. But the smug smile on Hotch’s face made you want nothing more than to bash his skull in and watch the blood mix with the forest floor.

Your eyes flicked to Geralt’s, who sent you a single nod. Without hesitating, you swung your arm back and slashed into the bandit leader’s neck.

“Oh, oh gods.”

Ripping the sword from Hotch’s neck, you brought it back up and swung harder, making sure to make a clean cut through this time.

You breathed heavily as you watched Hotch’s head detach from his body and fall to the floor, his eyes still open in surprise. Dropping the sword to the floor, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, not realizing you smeared the blood that was already there. With a final huff, you turned around and pushed past the bard on your way out of the tent.

—

You were sitting on a tree log in the middle of the camp, cleaning off your knives, when Jaskier found you.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, I don’t think you are.” He sat down carefully beside you, as if you might swing the knife you were holding and slash his throat. Obviously, you didn’t. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking.

“If you’re mad that I slept with that woman—“ Your glare stopped him from continuing.

“I’m not mad you slept with that woman. I’m mad that you almost got yourself killed for it.”

You turned away from the bard and closed your eyes with a deep breath. You honestly didn’t know if that was the full truth. There were so many emotions flowing through your body that you couldn’t focus on one, not like usual.

And Jaskier’s presence wasn��t helping either.

“Here.”

His voice made you turn back towards him, where he had taken out a handkerchief. You watched as he wet the cloth with his tongue and gently took your chin in his other hand, leaning forward to clean off the blood that you didn’t even know was on your face.

As he concentrated on cleaning your skin, your heart was nearly bursting out of your chest. He was so close to you — and not only in proximity. Not long ago you were like Hotch: counting down the moments until you could see this bard dead at your feet. Now, you were worrying that this same man could hear your rapid heartbeat whenever he was near.

I want to kiss him. You thought, but immediately backtracked. Kiss him? What were you, stupid? You just heard about him unknowingly breaking up a marriage, and now you wanted to kiss him?

He was an idiot. Annoying, loud, everything you should hate. That you thought you did hate. But you didn’t. You wanted to take his face in your hands and kiss him until your lips were bruised. You wanted him to place his hands on your waist and grip them like he’d never let them go, like your body was the only thing he would hold for the rest of his life.

You blinked, almost shocked with yourself for even thinking that — for having those thoughts in your head when you should be worrying. About what, you didn’t know. Your assignment? Rauf? But with Jaskier’s eyes flitting over your face, his hand barely brushing your skin, you couldn’t think of anything but him.

Your mind was practically racing with itself. And the words that came out of your mouth weren’t the ones you expected.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, and Jaskier snorted with a smile, not bothering to defend himself. Because you both knew it was only partly true.

———————————————————————————————————

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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house-of-void · 3 years

Text

End of an Empire

(Days after the battle at Jaku city and the country going to Hell)

It poured over the broken city, the sky so clouded it was hard to tell what time of the day it was. Buildings torn down, roads destroyed, only scavengers dared to come out, searching the wreckage for something to shield them from the rain and cold, for something to eat. But there was nothing, nothing but misery and pain and fear, so much fear from the villains freed from the prisons, from the street gangs that took the chaos as an opportunity to run wild and do as they wished.

There were no Heroes around. Not anymore.

On top of one of the few buildings that were still standing, two figures watched the horizon, taking in the destruction before them. Both had seen a lot in their lives but never such unparalleled destruction, such rampaging madness. It was still hard to believe it all had happened in a matter of days.

The man, tall and broad, stood straight holding an umbrella. The woman sat by the edge of the building, unbothered by the rain that had soaked her clothes, red hair falling freely over her shoulders, long wet bangs obscuring her face. There was a long silence as they simply watched. A few yards away stood what looked like a traditional Japanese mansion, a place clearly meant for a rich family to live. The woman watched with indifference while the man let out a tired sigh and looked away, the sight paining him deeply. It was clear the place had been broken into, ransacked, everything inside was either destroyed or had people squatting in there.

“Nae matter how long ago Ah left home, it still saddens me tae see th' house we grew up in like this.”

“Did ye manage tae get Dad’s things outta there?”

“Ayeh, they’re all safe” his gaze fell on the woman “Aoi and uncle Hidaka managed tae leave th' country” he cleared his throat “…Mother managed tae leave safely too, in case ye’re wonderin’.”

“I was not” she replied dryly “I don’t give a rat’s arse about what happens tae that woman, Duncan.”

“Ye hauld too many grudges. Dad's gone, she's by herself, couldn’t ye at leest let all that hate go? C’mon Bo-”

“No!” she turned to look up at him, emerald eyes filled with bitter anger as she pointed a finger at him “ye don’t have the right tae call me by my real name every time ye want tae appeal tae my “better nature”. Just cuz everythin’s fucked it doesn’t mean I have to forgive what she did tae me” she turned away, fuming “b’sides, what’s the fuckin’ point? As far as she knows, I’m dead.”

Duncan, or as he was better known, Nox shook his head and groaned, slightly frustrated. Stubborn, she was just impossible. Then again she was right. It was over ten years too late to try fix their family. He regretted having taken part in the lie that convinced everyone his sister was dead but now it was beyond late to backpedal. He heard her move again and watched as she stood up, pulling the wet hair from her face and putting an old beanie on her head as if it would help shelter her from the rain.

“How’s business?”

Switching topic? Fine with him.

“Heh… can’t complain. Th' demaind fur support items is big an' now that law enforcement is inefficient an' overwhelmed it’s become easy tae smuggle my products intae th' country” he stood on the balls of his feet then on the tips “an' wi' Detnerat gone, business has bloomed fur me. Still, th' black market’s a bloody mess, th' usual lines of communication are mostly gone.”

“What about that guy that was taking care of intel for ya?”

“No idea” he looked down at his shoes “heard fraem a contact that he was at Gunga Villa when th' heroes raided th' place but nae word after that. Probably died” shrug “or got arrested. Shame, he was a true professional” he paused, watching a small group walking along the road and looking into cars “…sometimes Ah wonder if Ah should be addin’ tae all this shite…” he looked at her for a moment before resting his hand on her shoulder “th' Hero society is dead, Umbra. Th’ folk responsible fur whit happened tae Dad are gone. Why don’t ye come wi' me, tae Scotland? They’ve been askin' about ye, they’re worried.”

“No… it’s not over” she turned her head to look at him again and only then did Nox realise how tired she looked “the corrupt ones, they might have quit their jobs, but they’re still guilty. They still have tae pay for what they did” she smiled weakly “don’t feel bad for these people. It’s time they reap what they sow. They’re just as guilty as the Heroes, putting them on pedestals and becoming selfish and complacent…”

It had darkened and it kept raining as if the sky had been torn asunder. Umbra stepped away from Nox, standing at the very edge of the building. Yes, society had to pay the price, learn their lesson so they could have a chance at being reborn better and stronger. But that was taking care of itself. She only wanted the bastards that thought they were safe just because they had run away like the cowards they were.

Nox watched her in silence. In truth, he knew she wouldn’t leave. He had hoped, now that things were upside down, but… this was her life. The few times she spent with their father’s side of the family were nothing but fleeting dreams she quickly forgot about.

“...Ah’ll be back wi' supplies next time. Call me if ye need me, ye hear?”

As if. He turned around and walked towards the door that gave access to the roof. Before he even reached for the handle, he could tell his sister was already gone, back to her hunt.

The rain fell harder.

#just something small I felt like writing #been thinking about Umbra and Nox's lives after everything goes to shit #girl has no heart!#lol #the pariah: umbra #the deceiver: nox #my writings #my ocs #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia

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lunasilvermorny · 4 years

Photo

Pride month - Day 11.

Fights.

As much as I love this ship (and I can’t express how much I do), their relationship was far (far!) from perfect. It was chaotic and destructive as much as it was exciting and passionate.

It is very rare for me to draw Luna irritated and that’s because she normally doesn’t stay in these kind of situations. When an argument breaks, she usually just leave. But since she was in a relationship with Rath, she couldn’t really avoid some issues forever and confrontations were inevitable.

Technically, this is her first real relationship (because she and Barnaby were never really a couple), and it was a very problematic one.

First of all, they kept it a secret. Rath didn’t want to date Luna out in the open because Luna and Barnaby were still casual (and everyone knew that), and Rath didn’t want to have an open relationship. That’s why Rath tried to keep Luna at arm’s length for so long, but eventually they both caved to the passion and had to find the middle ground - Luna gets to be with whomever she wants, but the relationship has to remain hidden.

Second, Rath can be very aggressive and she isn’t great with expressing her emotions, which leads to many fights that usually end up in a break up, but as long as Luna hasn’t given up on them and tried to make up with Rath, they always got back together.

They had an on-again off-again relationship for the majority of year 6.

In contrast to Rath’s heated temper, Luna was very calm in comparison, but that doesn’t mean she never let her aggression out in other ways. She can be very passive-aggressive and when confronted about it, acts like nothing is wrong. She can also be very apathetic at times, so her usual warmth and friendliness would be replaced with indifference. There was a reason why Jacob always compared Luna to their father - she had little to no patience to things that she finds redundant, especially recurring arguments. So instead of being empathetic and try to solve things with Rath, she’d ignore Rath’s feelings and gradually get annoyed by them.

tl;dr - They had many issues.

Also, yes, I’m aware that the drawing looks just like the meme of the woman yelling at the cat... But be serious for a second, guys.

Okay, okay, just once to let it out of your system:

----

The context of their fight:

*Rath forcefully dragged Luna into an empty classroom*

Luna: If you wanted to fool around so badly, you could have just ask.

Rath: Are you kidding me?!

Luna: What? Okay, we’re doing this again. What did I do this time?

*Rath stared at her furiously*

Luna: Speak, love.

Rath: You’ve spent last night with HIM?!

Luna: Yes. Why are you freaking out about it?

Rath: ...

Luna: I asked you a question, love.

Rath: Don’t call me that!

Luna: Why not? I always call you love.

Rath: Do you call him that too?

Luna: I… For god’s sake, what do you want from me, Rath? Why are you acting like it’s a new thing? Isn’t that’s the reason why our relationship is a bloody secret in the first place?

Rath: After what we had, how could you just-? *she let out a frustrated growl* After what you’ve said to me...

Luna: What? What did I say?

Rath: Yesterday!

Luna: ... Oh.

Rath: Oh?!

Luna: *In a calm voice* I really meant it.

Rath: You meant shite!

Luna: I really do love you, Rath.

Rath: Do you love him?

Luna: I don’t see how that’s relevant-

Rath: So yes.

Luna: Well... Yes, obviously. I love you both.

Rath: That’s impossible.

Luna: No, it’s not. My feelings for you have nothing to do with Barnaby-

Rath: You’re a liar.

Luna: Why weren’t you mad yesterday or last week or any other time?

Rath: ...

Luna: Come on, Rath. It’s not like you’re a prude. Did I let out a single word about how you and Liz flirt sometimes, even right in front of me?

Rath: You’re the one to talk?

Luna: I don’t mind. By all means, go for it if you fancy each other.

Rath: I am not you. I don’t have a collection of partners.

Luna: What collection? You said that you’re fine with me seeing other people as long as I’m not in a relationship with them. You are my only girlfriend.

Rath: Do you hear yourself?

Luna: What?

Rath: “only girlfriend”?

Luna: Well, it’s true.

Rath: ...

Luna: What? Stop looking at me like that and just say what you think! I can’t read your bloody mind! Well, unless you want me to...

Rath: It’s a technicality. You are in a relationship with him.

Luna: I am not!

Rath: Yes, you are!

Luna: You are being unreasonable.

Rath: I’m done with this. Get out of my face.

Luna: You don’t get to order me around.

Rath: You don’t even realize what you’re doing wrong. That makes it even worse.

Luna: Rath, I swear that my feelings are real. What can I possibly do to make it any clearer? Everyone already thinks I’m delusional for broadcasting my feelings for you, while you act like I’m an obsessive little stalker.

Rath: Leave.

Luna: I’m trying my best here, what more do you want from me?

Rath: I said - leave.

Luna: Erika.

Rath: Leave!!

Luna: ...

Rath: Now!!

Writing Rath’s part of the dialogue is harder than it looks, because she’s not good at expressing herself and use very few words.. and it’s challenging to give her side of the argument with so little to work with... I get that it looks easy, because the lines are short, but she’s actually the first character so far that I have ever had this problem with. It’s usually a flow of words that comes to mind instantly and blend together just like how a real conversation would play out in my head, but with Rath I had to go back and rewrite it several times.

Anyway, these two...

*sigh*

I love them, but damn...

But wait, there’s more!

(So between the two dialogues, there was an instance that Luna tried to reach out to Rath, and in return Rath physically pushed her again.)

Rath: Luna.

Luna: Are you here to shove me again? Because it’s getting old.

Rath: I’m sorry.

Luna: You know, I put up with a lot of rubbish for you and I don’t even mind, so one might think you’d give me the minimal courtesy of not using your beast-like force on me.

Rath: I didn’t mean to. You grab my arm, it was an instinct.

Luna: Or maybe I’m just an easy target.

Rath: Were you hurt?

Luna: What do you care?

Rath: It was an accident. *she looked like she wanted to embrace Luna, but was afraid to accidentally cross the line again*

Luna: Yeah, well, I’m done with your little accidents.

Rath: ...

Luna: I get that you want us to keep a low profile, I really do, but you don’t have to act as if we’re bloody nemeses in front of everyone.

Rath: You have your terms and I have mine.

Luna: You’re not going to bitch about me and Barnaby again, are you?

Rath: ...

Luna: Sorry, I didn’t hear that.

Rath: We had a dumb fight. Let’s move past it.

Luna: Easy for you to say, you muscle bag.

Rath: What can I do?

Luna: That’s a good question. I don’t really feel like solving all of our problems anymore. You never seem to want to do the hard work anyway, so why don’t you just leave me alone? By the way, that’s how you’re supposed to say it, not shout it like a beast.

Rath: ...

Luna: See you later.

Rath: Let’s get even.

Luna: What?

Rath: Come on, push me. I won’t do anything to stop you.

Luna: First things first, it’s impossible to move you because you’re built like a brick wall of a fort on a mountain with abs for shields, even Bombarda wouldn’t make you budge. Second, I don’t want to get even, I want you to stop with your damn jealousy and rage outbursts. It’s exhausting.

Rath: All right.

Luna: Please, as if it is that easy-

Rath: Let me at least try.

Luna: ...

Rath: ...

Luna: Fine.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #pride month 2020 #my art #drawing #headcanon #luna silver #erika rath #luna x rath #mc x rath #year 6 headcanon

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paigerambles · 3 years

Text

A happy belated birthday to my darling Gemma <3

(( four little drabbles based on some of our pairings )) @gemmamakeslists

A Dangerous Affair with Faith and Antonin

The door had closed much too loudly behind him. It mirrored the finality of this moment. Antonin had never pretended and that perhaps was what had made him so uniquely cruel. When he’d chosen her, when he’d decided to ‘see what happened’, he’d been open to feel whatever he might have. After all, the more open you were, the easier you were trusted. The more receptive you were to the little things she did, the more you noticed and became intrigued by. It was a dangerous tightrope he walked but Antonin hadn’t lost sleep about it. After all, he would always finish the job.

He was supposed to finish the job.

His hands never shook, not ever but tonight they betrayed him. If she had suspected, if she had been worried, it didn’t show. Instead, concern flashed across that almost unreadable face. That alone was a punch to the gut. Of course he didn’t exactly look his best. He was about to make the single most impactful decision of his life - his hair had not taken it well. Neither had the dark circles under his eyes, the palpable anxiety he felt causing a trickle of sweat to make its way down his neck.

If he made it quick, it could be a mercy. She was a target now and even if he let her go... It would be a life of looking over her shoulder. Faith may have been tougher than most but she wouldn’t survive, not now. Loneliness was easier to accept, to live with, when you hadn’t tasted the alternative. He knew that all too well now. This was just supposed to be another job. Another name scratched off a list. Another day.

What did it matter if he loved her? What did it matter that his father would kill him himself if he didn’t see this through? What did anything matter when she was looking at him like that, eyes hopeful and trusting and all too familiar with disappointment and pain?

The loaded gun felt impossibly heavy in his hands as he watched the colour slowly drain from her face as that trust started to falter. Surely not...? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t-

“Antonin-,” but he’d made his decision long before she breathed his name. In truth, he had made his decision long before even now. He had been interested every time she spoke, dizzied by her rare laugh and moved by the way she saw the world and all its dark, terrible corners. She’d danced with the devil and never known, until now. He took a step towards her and to her credit, to her grit, she barely flinched and did not move.

The cold touch of the metal ran up his spine as he put the gun away. Of course he put the gun away.

“We have to leave. Tonight. There’s no time to explain-,” his mind was moving faster now, catching up, calming down. This he could do. This he could manage without shaking. “They want you dead. My father, his organization. I won’t let that happen to you, do you understand?” Usually she would argue, questions, rage until she was blue or purple or red in the face. There was an ache in his chest as he saw the tears in her eyes, too stubborn to fall. Convincing her that his feelings were real would take time and maybe she’d never believe him which she was well within her right not to but that didn’t matter now. Now his only thought, his only goal, was to keep her safe.

Antonin stopped moving for long enough to look her in those burning blue eyes. It had to boil down to one thing now and it wasn’t love, it wasn’t longing or truth. It was this: “Do you trust me?”

And perhaps against her every better judgement, in that moment she nodded, gripping tightly onto his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

A Reckless Serenade with Krystal and Luke

The pub was probably the dullest, stickiest, faintly rancid place in town but it let his band play and paid them in free drinks. So, really, who’s to complain? Luke was usually nervous before a show, anxious right up until he was bouncing around the stage and even then. Tonight he was especially nervous. Tonight, he’d asked the prettiest, coolest, sassiest girl from the record store to come to his show. He’d made some big song and dance about putting his homemade poster up in the store to which she’d said ‘nah, pal’. Luke had just been pleased as punch to chat with her anyway.

The likelihood of her actually showing up tonight... He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous. Would she? Wouldn’t she? He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about Krystal Mercury but he thought an awful lot about holding her hand. That was enough to inspire screeds and screeds of poppy poetry, some of it beautiful even. When it came to writing a song, he could say it all. When it came to talking to her? Forget about it.

Now, all he had to do was convince himself that he wouldn’t be perfectly miserable if he didn’t see her tonight. It was a decent crowd, anyway. At least fifteen people. If you counted the bartender (which he always did). It was all peachy.

Except, he really wanted her to be in the crowd.

“Come on, mate.” Luke blinked at his band-mate, as if suddenly remembering the fact that the whole point of tonight was to play a show. Right, here we go. No matter what happ---

For half a beat, he held his breath entirely. After all, it wasn’t terribly well lit in here and he might have been mistaken. Although, wasn’t she quite unmistakable?

Krystal’s hair was down, hanging by the shoulders of her denim jacket with what he thought might have been sewn on patches for a splash of colour. She was here. When he met her eye, he reckoned he caught a smile and time might have slowed down. He’d always been hopeless and maybe even romantic but he never thought he’d get himself quite this tongue tied over someone. Not a very handy thing when you were the lead singer, mind.

Then just like that reality return and he opened his mouth at last, the sound of rip roaring guitar and faster-than-your-racing-heart drum beats filled the air, and his head. Luke felt giddy, elated and it wasn’t just from the adrenaline of playing a show. It wasn’t that at all.

“And truth be told, I’d be terribly content to hold your hand.”

Funny how much effort it took to make it seem like you were very cool and casual around someone you definitely didn’t feel cool or casual around. Luke gave it his best once he’d exited the stage.

“Alright, Songbird.”

“Well, you weren’t shite, then.”

Luke let out a laugh, still clad in his leather jacket despite the stage lights.

“Do you want to see backstage?” Luke took the world’s longest breath, holding out his hand.

“Backstage,” he shot her a grin at that comment. Fair enough, this was hardly the Grammy’s. Still, she took his hand.

A Brighter Day with Olivia and Ian

Ian Morrison had just been some guy on vacation when he noticed her. A totally normal, very stylish and slightly drunk guy on vacation. Olivia Winters had just been some girl working her part-time job and going to classes. Sometimes she remembered to text back her annoying BFF Samson too. She was perfectly normal, happy and a little bit no-nonsense especially when it come to guys on vacation who thought they were stylish.

It was perfect.

The first time Ian noticed her, she was sitting outside of a café with a stack of books and a black coffee. Her bangs threatened to cover her eyes, her brow was furrowed in concentration and she was about to lose one of her papers to a summer’s breeze. Now, being a perfectly normal, perfectly human guy, Ian had to run like a fool to catch it for her. Did he expect to be showered in thanks? No but a compliment on his Hawaiian shirt would have been nice.

Olivia didn’t even give him that.

The next time Ian sees her, she’s wearing dungarees and eating an overly shiny apple. He smells strongly of daytime tequila (it was vacation, after all) and was just on the way to meet his brother for a late lunch. Ian doesn’t have a good excuse this time but damn it all, he goes for it anyway.

“You know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

“And what exactly would keep you away?”

“Pineapples. They freak me out.”

“There are at least seven pineapples on your shirt right now.”

“It’s a power play, I’m letting them know who’s boss so they don’t smell my fear. I’m playing the long game here. I’m Ian, BTW.”

“Right... Olivia, BTW.” She wasn’t nearly as accustomed to using the acronym out loud, hence the sarcasm.

“Well, I’ll see you around O-L-I-V-I-A,” he grinned, shooting her a wink. She rolled her eyes. She smiled. What a weirdo.

The next time again that Ian sees Olivia, the sun is setting over waves and he’s wearing shorter shorts than you might think appropriate for a Sunday evening. He was just giving the people something to smile about. He has his sunglasses on, sitting under one of those absurdly large beach umbrellas, half-asleep, when she sits herself down without even a ‘hello’. How rude. He didn’t mind.

“Here.” Ian opened his eyes lazily, glancing down at the apple in his palm. A smile tugged at his lips. What a weirdo. “For the doctor,” she added, as if that made sense. Ian let out a laugh. She felt funny but not in a bad way.

“Thank you, O,” he said around a crunch, peaking over at her before nudging his sunglasses down his nose. “So, you planning on sticking around or are you actually a mermaid en route to the sea? Either one is cool with me.”

“Not a mermaid. A sea-witch and if you’re not careful, you won’t leave here with all your fingers and toes still attached.” He was only almost certain it was a joke which only made Ian Morrison grin wider.

“Only one way to find out then.” Olivia stayed beside him long after the sun had set, telling herself it was fine because he was just some boy on vacation with a nice smile and a ridiculously warming laugh.

The last time Ian sees Olivia is when he’s on the bus, feeling a keen hangover as he presses his face against the cool glass. Mark Morrison is putting their luggage under the bus, making sure Ian has plenty of water and crackers for the uneasy ride back home.

Ian doesn’t know why or how he opened his eyes at exact, perfect moment to see her but he did. He was so glad he did. An easy smile came to his face and the same happened for her.

Olivia lifted her hand up in a wave, minimum effort and very meaningful all the same.

Ian pressed his palm to the window, dramatic and very meaningful all the same.

Mark made his way onto the bus, backpack in tow and Ian turned to shoot his best bro a grin and by the time he looked back around, Olivia was gone.

A Little Hope with Autumn and Oliver

There was only one bed in the motel and the bath tub was abysmal. Oliver would have taken the chair- it’s not as if he slept much these days anyway but Autumn had insisted. Well, perhaps that was the wrong word. She said he would be no good to her if he was exhausted and hadn’t he been the one who had dragged her into this mess? That he could not argue with.

Still, he couldn’t sleep.

Oliver wasn’t proud of the weakness, of the cruelty he had inflicted by having Autumn conjure up the soul of his beloved. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know just how Angel had died, the fire, the explosion... The way that Autumn had to feel that just so he could have a scrap, a false echo of the woman he had loved more than anything in this wretched world. What’s worse is that he needed her to do it again.

Autumn needed the money. She needed to start over so if that meant sticking with Oliver DiLaurentis a little longer then fine. He shouldn’t have lied to her, shouldn’t have left out the part where there was a price on his head. They’d been on the run for weeks now and he had begged her to leave him to perish more than once. Autumn refused, for whatever reason.

Well, it was the money, wasn’t it? Of course it was. They had a deal. Had his father not taught him how to be a good businessman? He couldn’t back out of a deal. That would be dishonorable. How goddamn backwards his family had been. Were. Oliver turned on his side.

He owed Autumn his life, whatever was left of it. He would see this through. He’d protect her the way that he hadn’t been able to protect... To protect Angel. A haggard breath left his lungs as he looked over to her lying beside him. He felt his chest ache. Then-

Autumn turned, turned too far in fact and now she was leaning against his chest. Oliver stopped breathing. He hadn’t felt a moment of peace since the fire. Since he’d... Just, since. He doubted he’d ever feel a moment of peace again but for the briefest of moments, as he let out his breath, he felt the first real glimmer of hope that he might. It was a foolish, frivolous thought but he had it nonetheless.

Her breathing was even, her sleep yet to be interrupted. For reasons entirely beyond him, he gently touched her shoulder and felt the real weight of exhaustion he had been fighting off until now. He was bone tired, desperate for sleep but too scared to close his eyes. Autumn wasn’t though. From what he had seen of her, from what he had seen her do, he thought she was fearless. A survivor. Beautiful, in her own special way. He fought the thought off but still it whispered in the back of his mind- not like her though, not like Angel.

Oliver closed his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek. He didn’t move his hand from her shoulder and she didn’t move her head from his chest.

For the first time, he slept.

#gemmamakeslists #gemma #for you my dear <3

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