#her death just casually appeared above her head and she's expected to continue the conversation normally

[iwasbored777]

The fact that all Gwen knows about her variants in other universes is that they're dead is so sad. Like imagine you want to know what happens to you in other dimensions and it turns out that wherever you look you mean nothing, you're so unimportant that there's no bigger role for you other than dying.

And I've seen you guys pointing this out, where she's looking at what looks like her own death and even if it's not this is not just a "love interest" Gwen, this is a superhero who is supposed to mean something, but she doesn't. She's only here to die. And so far this (our) Gwen doesn't have any reason to believe that she won't die very soon just like other Gwens.

I think that one of the main reasons why she's rejecting Miles is not just her trauma and all shit she's been through and the fear of dying like other Gwens when they're involved with Spider-Man, but also because if they start something and she dies this will hurt him too.

It's easy to say "canon events aren't true she shouldn't believe in that" but this isn't just a regular risk, this is her life we're talking about.

#my baby just wanted to stay alive #her death just casually appeared above her head and she's expected to continue the conversation normally #and it doesn't look like she died peacefully at all look at her #spider man across the spider verse #Spiderverse #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spider woman #spider gwen #ghost spider #to anyone who says that this is kravens last hunt he injured peter badly in that comic almost killed him #but that doesn't mean that she won't die either in hands of kraven or anybody else #or that this is just one canon event she has more but as far as she knows she'll die if she touches spider man or just die like that #but I'm not sure if it's even kravens last hunt pic she doesn't look well here either way #to me it looks like she's hurt here I didn't think about other possibilities until y'all said it could be but it's sus i think she's hurt

[bastillewolf]

It’s More About Looks Than Skill (X)

Pairing: Ryuk/Reader

Summary: Ryuk finds himself gaining feelings for Light Yagami’s best friend, but she doesn’t know he exists. When he makes the grave mistake of touching her, he makes things a lot more complicated.

Notes: New year new chapter, but let’s hope I update more frequently than that now lol. Please leave me a kick in the ass so I stop procrastinating, thanks! And also big thank you to the immense support. Love you guys <3

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Chapter X

She really couldn’t help herself. What sane person wouldn’t start screaming the second they hopped onto a Shinigami’s back and started flying? She clung onto Ryuk’s neck for dear life, her legs wrapped around his middle while his wings flapped them higher and higher until they’d reached a thick level of fluffy clouds with the dark sky above them. There, the wings stopped flapping, and she found herself gliding through the air, her hair being pulled back by the gentle breeze. She realized how harshly she was squeezing Ryuk, and quickly loosened her grip to a point that she was still comfortable she wouldn’t be able to accidentally let go.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in his ear. It was actually very beautiful, now that she took a good look around her. Below the white, she could see all sorts of lights from the city flickering through, as if they were mirroring the stars above.

“I can take it. I just wasn’t expecting you to scream, is all,” Ryuk replied gently, “I thought you wanted to fly?”

“Y-Yes, I did. It’s just… a lot scarier than it looks. I don’t have wings, so rationally if I let go I would definitely not survive. I think even L could confirm that with percentages and a graph.”

“Rationally I would catch you. I’m heavier, I fall faster than you. You would be saved before you could say ‘Shinigami’.”

She chuckled, “Rationally I wouldn’t count on that. Maybe I don’t trust you. Rationally.”

He turned his head slightly, but she was still unable to see his facial expression from her position on his back. However, it became rather apparent through the sad note in his voice when he spoke. “You don’t trust me?”

She quickly shook her head, “No, I’m sorry Ryuk, that’s not what I meant. I mean that I should rationally not count on you catching me if I fall. I made the decision to hop on your back, thus it is my responsibility to take responsibility for my actions and face the consequences. If I fall, it would be my mistake.”

“Even if it were, I’d still catch you. I’d always catch you.”

She felt a sense of ease wash over her, along with a tingle in her stomach, but she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder, and breathing in a waft of fresh air that dragged along a hint of Light’s cologne. “How come you’re never this nice to Light?”

Ryuk chuckled dryly. “Because he’s not you.”

He felt a blush coat his cheeks when he felt her hands running along the feathers of his wings in a slow, gentle manner. She kept doing this until they’d landed, and then proceeded to latch onto his hand after they’d landed in the back of an alleyway.

Even if you do not actually possess the Death Note, the effect will be the same if you recognize the person and his/her name to place in the blank.

Ryuk was in love. There, he could finally say it. He’d been on a date and now he could say he was in love. He was slightly hunched over so the girl could hold his hand without people noticing at her side, but not for one second did he feel an ache in his back. All he could think about was the way she’d clung onto him, how she’d touched him, how sweet she’d sounded muttering nothings in his ear while she stroked his feathers. Affection wasn’t something that came naturally to him, Shinigami’s never really deemed such thing necessary. Yet with her, he seemed to want to keep her hand in his forever.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans for him, because she was the one who dropped it like a ton of bricks, along with his heart. Then he noticed the reason for her sudden shift, and it was standing in front of Light’s house. She lightly tugged on the chain that was stuck to the other death note he was carrying and kept her fingers wound tightly around it, but he didn’t mind. If she wanted to take his Death Note, she could go right ahead and do it. That’s how happy he was.

Until he met the bleak pale-yellow eyes of the tall creature hovering above the blonde stranger in front of them.

 ***

“Okay, Ryuk, we need to have a little talk,” Light started. They’d just been at the hotel, where they’d found out the second Kira was willing to do everything Light wanted them to do. They were supposed to set up a meeting place and Light wanted to prepare. She knew a round of questioning was about to begin, so she plopped down onto his bed in an instant.

Ryuk sighed, “Should’ve known.”

“And I’d appreciate an answer if you could,” Light added. “If two Shinigami happened to meet in the human world, are they allowed to speak to each other?”

“Hard to say,” the Shinigami replied. “As long as I’m attached to a human, I’d say it’s against the rules unless I had their permission first. But there are no laws against it either, so I guess it’s possible that another Shinigami might talk to me.”

“So, does that mean that if this fake Kira’s Shinigami were to see you, there’s a chance he might mention the fact that you’re with me and reveal that I’m Kira?”

“They probably wouldn’t, but it depends on their personality.”

“And if this kind of situation did arise I can assume you’ll act the way you normally do?”

“Yeah,” Ryuk said, “Even if I see another human with a Shinigami I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Well, I definitely think you’ve got the right approach.”

“Humph, thanks.”

 ***

“Oops,” he couldn’t help but curse under his breath, recalling the conversation he’d had with Light. He didn’t recognize the Shinigami before them, but if they wanted to, they could directly link Ryuk to the girl that was latching onto him. They might think she was the real Kira.

Though the latest message had already revealed Light’s stunt in the city with the group of people surrounding Ryuk had been a failure and he had been discovered to the fake Kira, there would be no good explanation for him to be hanging around this human.

Luckily for him, the other Shinigami remained deathly silent, until the girl at her side turned.

“Oh, hello there!” she said.

She blinked in response. “Uh… I- Uh… Aren’t you that girl from TV?”

The blonde giggled profusely, suddenly walking up to her as casual as could be. “Yes, I’m Misa, nice to meet you! Do you want an autograph?”

She scratched the back of her head awkwardly, “Uh, no, I think I’m good. Were you looking for Light?”

“Eh?” Ryuk vocalized. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt about it. But then again, he realized, Light had most likely already been discovered. He just didn’t know how she detected that this was the second Kira without being able to see the second Shinigami floating only a few feet away.

“Oh, I was. Are you friends with him?” Misa’s head turned, but her eyes held a sudden blank expression as if her mind were calculating a proper physical response once she’d gotten answers.

“Yeah, for like, my entire life. How do you know him?”

“Oh… I just, I found the notebook he left in class. Then I looked him up online and I thought his resume was very… impressive. I just really wanted to meet him, he seems like such an intelligent guy.”

Ryuk heard the other Shinigami audibly sigh.

“Well, why don’t I introduce the two of you then? I’m sure he’s still up at this hour, and I was just on my way to see him now.”

“S-Sure!” Misa replied hesitantly.

She wished Light’s sister, Sayu, could’ve at the very least toned down her excitement a bit when she met Misa, but alas, she was in awe, as well as the girl’s mother. Light eventually came trotting down the stairs behind them, his neutral facial expression continuing to withstand even as he saw the strange scene before him. He managed to shoo his family members away and closed the front door behind him. She could’ve sworn she hadn’t heard crickets chirping before that.

“Uhm, pleased to meet you,” Misa started, sinking to her knees in a bow, “I’m Misa Amane.” She then glanced at you, and back at Light again.

Ryuk chuckled until he heard the other God of Death say, “Misa, the girl is being followed by another Shinigami. I doubt she isn’t aware of it.”

Misa made a noise of understanding, before looking at the odd placement of your hand which was still wrapped around Ryuk’s chain. “I thought you might get worried if you saw that message on TV. I just couldn’t take it anymore so I brought… this notebook.” She held out an identical copy of his Death Note in front of Light, and Ryuk heard the girl next to him audibly groan. Of course, the girl had no issue showing something like that out in the open. It was like she had no idea.

Light touched it, yet he made no sound. “Does she know? About all of it?” Misa questioned, directedly pointing her gaze at his best friend. Light nodded, so she was allowed to touch it as well. She very much tried, but unfortunately, her poker face wasn’t as good as Light’s, so she ended up with her mouth slightly agape. Ryuk lifted a finger to close it.

They decided it would be best to move the conversation inside, so they did, and Light had cautiously locked his bedroom door behind them after making sure his mother and sister thought this was just a nice drop-by from his (girl)friend.

“Have a seat.”

As Misa sat in Light’s desk chair, his best friend scooted onto the mattress behind him with Ryuk towering over them at the bedside. Her Shinigami, a pale skeleton with yellow eyes and purple hair and what appeared to be vampiric teeth, stood guard behind Misa.

“How did you find me?” Light decided to ask.

She answered with a gasp, “I knew it! You never made the Shinigami-eye deal. When you have the Shinigami-eyes like I do, you can see most people’s name and lifespan just by looking at them. However, you can’t see the lifespan of any person who possesses a Death Note.”

Light glanced over at Ryuk, looking for an explanation, but Ryuk seemed just as shocked. “No kidding! I have to admit, even I wasn’t aware of that little detail.”

“Well, now you’ve managed to find me, but you were careless; what if you’d been caught by the police? Then they’d know everything about Kira!”

“It’s all right,” Misa said, “Because the police didn’t catch me and if I do as you say from now on, they’ll never be able to. So we’re safe. After all, don’t you need someone to see L’s name? If you want, I could be your eyes. So…”

“Yeah? So what?”

“-Would you please make me your girlfriend?”

Both Ryuk and the girl behind him burst out laughing, but he decidedly ignored them. He then proceeded to question her about her strategy in the city, as well as the evidence she could’ve left behind. She ended up even offering her Death Note to him, and while she’d still be the rightful owner, Light would be in control of it, and she of her Shinigami-eyes.

“-And if I become a burden to you, you can just kill me, okay?” Misa said pleadingly.

“But you might’ve removed several pages from your Death Note, you could be hiding them somewhere for all I know!”

“Why are you so suspicious of me?” she cried out, getting up from the chair and stomping her foot on the floor, “I already told you, I don’t care even if all you do is use me! Please believe me!”

“Why are you so willing to give up your life for him?” (Y/N) asked, and Light had to admit, that was the question he’d been building towards this entire time.

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand-“ Misa spat.

“Hey,” Light barked, “If you want to show your loyalty, how about you start being nicer to the only person I’ve trusted with my secret so far and has kept it?”

“How can you be so sure you can trust her?! I bet she’s only in it so she can take it from you after you’re dead, so she can become the new Kira!”

“How dare you!” (Y/N) snarled warningly, but Misa was already launching herself at the girl.

Light hadn’t quite seen that coming. Thankfully, Ryuk had. He took the blonde girl by her arm and lifted her until her feet didn’t touch the floor anymore and she’d let out a startled scream. He noticed the other Shinigami wanted to step in already, but Light was faster. “Misa, if you and I were to work together, I need to know you can make rational decisions without letting your emotions get the better of you. Can you do that?”

She didn’t really look at him, so he decided to repeat himself, this time a bit more convincingly, “If you were to be my girlfriend, I need to know if you can tolerate being around my best friend.”

At this, she lit up, and Ryuk was quick to let go of her.

When she’d finally left, the girl he’d just been on a date with was now slung around his neck, having climbed on top of the bed to be able to reach him. His large hands grasped her sides, and his smile had grown even wider.

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#ryuk x reader #ryuk x oc #ryuk #death note #shinigami #light yagami #light yagami x reader #light yagami x oc #lawliet #L #L x reader #Lawliet x reader #Manga #Anime #Fanfic #IMALTS

[wicked-mind]

Soulmates- Chapter Five

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Swearing, as usual. Violence, minor character death (OC character), smut (Yup, some smut in here so minors please exit. I'm also new at writing smut so don't expect much lol)

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N bit her lip at his touch, feeling his anger and need to protect her from their bond. She lifts her hands to wrap around his shoulders and behind his neck instinctively, taking a deep breath. Nobody except Natasha knew the story but she knew she could trust Bucky with the truth, “Sometimes it still feels like I’m still laying there on the floor, watching the sun rise through the window and trying to stay awake and alive.” She whispers softly. This was a side of her she thought she lost the night her twin tried to kill her, the part that wanted to trust and be loved. Her soulmate bond to Bucky pulled the truth out of her, wanting to be honest with him. Let him see all the broken and torn up pieces inside her, “Sometimes it feels like the scar still burns, like it’s an open wound I can’t get rid of telling me I should’ve died. I hate it.”

Bucky frowned at her words against her neck, picking her up by her hips and moving to lay her on the bed. He crawled on top of Y/N, looking into her eyes with his stormy blue ones, “Darling, that scar proves you are a survivor.” He whispered down to her, lifting her shirt with one hand to expose the scar. He looked down it as he traced his flesh fingers along it, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin at his touch, “It’s a part of you, and it may be a dark part of you, but it’s still something that made you who you are. And as much as I hate that you went through that, I’m also grateful it made you a strong, bad-ass woman.” He smirks at her slightly, crawling down and brushing his lips over her scar, kissing the raised skin softly. He grinned when he heard a small whimper pass her lips, “My strong, bad-ass woman. And I will spend the rest of my life kissing this scar so when you look at it, you only think of me.”

Chapter Five -

Bucky did as he said, he kept kissing along her scar that rested on her hip. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head upwards so that she was looking into his eyes. His eyes locked onto her’s and he had never felt so calm yet so on fire all at the same time. He lifted a hand to brush the skin on her cheek, watching her shiver slightly at the touch of his cold vibranium fingers.

Y/N bit her lip as she watched Bucky above her, studying his features. It was odd, she had never felt this way before when a man had looked at her. She could blame it all on her soulmate bond to him but the way he looked at her like she was the most beautiful creature he’d laid eyes on made her stomach fill with butterflies that she long thought had shriveled up and died in her stomach. Her attention broke from him when she hears her phone ringing. Y/N quickly shimmied herself out from under Bucky’s muscular frame and pulled her phone out of her pocket, pressing it to her ear, “Weasel, I thought you kicked me out.” She said into the speaker with a smile, listening to Weasel talk on the other end, “No, of course I want a job. I’ll come by and collect the card.” She said then snaps the phone shut.

Bucky adjusted on the bed to lay on his side, watching Y/N talk on the phone. Of course, he had heard every word from the other side of the speaker. Bucky couldn’t help but feel like the moment they are having was ruined, but he knew it’d take a little bit for Y/N to get comfortable with the fact she had a soulmate. He slowly stood up, watching her curiously, “I don’t know if taking a job is the best thing to do right now. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene that could lead your brother right to you.” He said, walking closer to her.

Y/N watched Bucky walk towards her, smiling a little at his words, “Oh no, wouldn’t want that.” She told him, placing the phone back into her pocket, “You coming or not?” She asks as she stepped around him and walked towards his bedroom door.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks, following her closely as he shrugged his leather jacket back on over his shoulders.

“To do a job and cause a scene.” Y/N replied mischievously.

As much as Bucky thought this was the wrong decision, he felt he already knew Y/N well enough to know there wasn’t going to be much of an argument and she was going to do what she wanted so he may as well stick around to protect her. Bucky led her to the garage where he swung his legs over his motorcycle, watching as she straddled his bike behind him. His grin grew when he felt her arms wrap around her waist, “Hold on, doll.”

Y/N rolled her eyes slightly, “Not my first time I’ve been on a motorcycle, lover boy. Let’s go.” She said softly into the back of his ear, smiling when the bike roared to life and they zoomed out of the facility and down the long driveway. It didn’t take long for them to arrive outside of Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. Y/N slid off the back of the bike, “Stay here, I won’t be long. This is the only entrance anyhow so you might as well play look out.” She told him before disappearing through the doors. Y/N stood at the end of the bar, quickly catching the attention of Weasel.

“Here’s your card.” Weasel said in a hushed voice, passing it over to Y/N and grabbing her out a beer to make it look like it was just a casual conversation, “You know what a gold card like that means.”

Y/N looked at Weasel suspiciously before slowly flipping the card over to reveal a name. The front of this card was different. Usually the cards were pure gold except for a small chip and a name, but this one had the chip, the name, and a red skull next to the name. Y/N quickly flipped the card back over and placed it on the bar with her palm, not wanting any wondering eyes to see it, “You seen him around lately?” The red skull signified it was a fellow mercenary to hunt down, and this name was one she recognized.

Weasel shook his head, “Hadn’t seen him for a while, but he did come around the night you went to the fancy gala. He was coming around asking for you. There’s a reason they assigned him to you and you can’t deny the job.”

Y/N nodded slowly, tucking the gold card slowly into the pocket of her jeans, looking at the wall of alcohol behind Weasel as she tried to think, “I know. I’ll take care of it.” She told him with a small smile before making her way back outside to Bucky.

“How was it?” Bucky asks when he sees her. He could feel the emotions running through her body, the conflict of whatever happened inside. It made him want to be there for her, help her through whatever was going through her brain.

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair slowly as she looked at Bucky before around him, “The job I’ve been assigned comes from the top. It’s a kill hit on another mercenary.” She told him, folding her arms across her chest and biting her lip.

Bucky’s brown furrowed a little bit. He could tell this job was already bothering Y/N but he couldn’t figure out exactly why, “Who is it? You know ‘em?” He asks, moving from leaning against his bike to stand in front of her.

Y/N scrunched her nose and closed one eye as she looked at him, “He’s an ex of mine, another mercenary. He got into some trouble with those who hire us and needs to be taken care of.” She said, watching Bucky’s face stay the same but those eyes… they flashed with what she could only assume was jealousy, “I hope you’re not the jealous type.” She teased with a small smile.

Bucky rolls his eye at her comment, folding his arms across his chest, “I’m sure there’s a reason he’s an ex, doll.” He told her, walking towards her until he was towering over her, looking down into her eyes with a crooked grin, “And if there isn’t, I’ll be that reason.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words, licking her top lip lightly, “I can feel the jealousy dripping from you already. You probably shouldn’t come along.” She told him, standing up on her toes so she could brush her lips against his lightly before turning on her heels and starting to walk down the street, “I’ll catch up with you later.” She said to him over her shoulder.

Bucky frowned. She was a tease and although he liked the game of cat and mouse with her, he wasn’t about to just let her go on a job with an ex that happened to be a fellow mercenary. Bucky was a lot of things but Y/N brought out the sides of him he didn’t know existed. She brought out a protective, almost possessive side that he couldn’t shake. Not when it came to her. He quickly swung his legs back over his motorcycle, bringing it to life and slowly riding it alongside Y/N as she walked, “C’mon, doll. At least let me give you a ride.”

Y/N continued her pace until she looked over towards him. God dammit… those blue eyes just sucked her right in. She stopped and nodded, “Fine.” She said and hung her legs over behind him, gripping onto his waist, “But you should still wait outside when we get there. Head straight down this street for two miles then make a left.”

Bucky grinned at her touch of her arms wrapping around his waist. This felt right, the two of their bodies touching made his heart skip a beat. Fuck, he was done when it came to her. He would follow her to the ends of the earth without even a second thought. Bucky followed her directions, pulling up outside a club. He had seen this club a few times, it had a bad reputation for where the big, bad, and ugly partied. He stiffened a little as Y/N got off his motorcycle, feeling uneasy about the whole thing, “You think this is where he is?”

Y/N turned and looked to Bucky who still sat on his motorcycle, “Yeah, we used to come here to party after jobs. If we weren’t at Sister Margaret’s, we were here.” She told him, then tilts her head, “You have a knife?”

Bucky nodded towards her request, pulling one of his black knives from a sheath around his ankle and passed it to her. He raised an eyebrow as he watched Y/N cut the fabric on her tank top, leaving it to hang around the bottom of her breasts before working on her black jeans next, cutting them into shorts. Now it was clinking on why she wanted him to wait outside, Y/N was going to have to put on her sex appeal game to deal with this job, “I’m definitely coming in.”

Y/N chuckles a little, throwing the cut fabric into a trash can outside the club doors, “Alright, but be a good boy and keep some distance.” She told Bucky, watching as he swung his legs off the motorcycle and follow her into the club. She gave a glance to the bouncer who opened the locked door for her, letting Bucky and herself into the dark club. There were red lights flashing and the club was filled with bodies who were dancing, drinking, and fighting in a boxing ring set in the middle. She glanced over to Bucky, “Don’t get into trouble.” She told him before slipping away through the crowd.

Although she had slipped away, Bucky managed to walk himself over to the bar and keep an eye on her movement. She was running her fingers through her hair, causing it to fluff and tangle a little as she made her way to the dance floor, smiling and swinging her hips. Bucky ordered a beer from the bartender and leaned his back against the bar, watching her. How he envied the men who tried to come and dance with her, pressing their hips to her’s and running their hands up her body. It made him deeply jealous, wanting him to be the only one that touched her like that. He would have to erase every touch another man has given her. It all came to a pause though when a tall, muscular, dark haired man pushed the other man out of the way and placed his hands on Y/N’s waist, leaning his head down onto her shoulder like he was whispering something in her ear. Bucky could hear everything they were saying to each other due to his enhanced abilities even over the roaring of the music.

Y/N looked at the new man touching her, recognizing him instantly. He was her ex, the name on the card she had been handed. Blake Michaels. She slowly wrapped her arms up and around the back of his neck, pushing her body to his as he whispered in her ear.

“What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart?” Blake groaned out into her ear, a smirk playing on his pink lips.

Y/N shrugged, a smile set on her lips, “What? Like I can’t have a good time without you?” She purred out to him, pulling him closer by her grip on the back of his neck.

Blake chuckled at her response, moving his hands down to her ass and picking her up to wrap her legs around his waist. He started carrying her off the dance floor and to the bathroom. Once they were inside, he sat her on the counter by the sinks, “I heard you had a soulmate now.” He told her with a crooked grin, eyeing her heavily tattooed arm.

Y/N shrugged, looking at her tattoo. It burned slightly at the touch of another man who wasn’t Bucky but she ignored it, “You know how I feel about soulmates.” She told Blake, tilting her head at him, “I heard you found yours too.”

Blake chuckled darkly, running a hand through his hair before placing it on the mirror behind Y/N, cornering her in, “I did. She’s six feet under now though, couldn’t have her getting in the way. Soulmates make you weak.”

Y/N took a deep breath at his closeness to her, his face was inches away from her. And even though it was a man she had spent a lot of time with in situations like this one, her body was telling her it was wrong and uncomfortable, “Why are you here, Blake?”

Blake grinned at her, “I think you know the answer to that.” He told Y/N before moving one hand to grip her neck while the other stayed planted against the mirror, “You’re not the only one that got a card.” The hand on the mirror moved to his pocket, pulling out a gold card with Y/N’s name on it and a red skull, “Gemini wants a chat.”

Y/N swallowed hard against the grasp on her throat, eyes widening a little at the card before she put on an emotionless face. Showing no emotion was one of the first things they taught you in The Red Room Academy. She moved one of her legs from around his waist to push her foot against his chest, trying to push him away from her. When she couldn’t get away, she moved her foot up further to kick him in the nose, causing him to stumble back. Y/N stood from the bathroom counter, cracking her neck as she looked at Blake’s bleeding nose, “I have no intention of seeing him.” She hissed out, moving her head out of the way when he threw a punch. She circled behind him and kicked him head first into the bathroom counter before walking towards him, pulling her arm back to throw another punch but was met with a kick to the stomach, causing her back to hit the stall behind her as a small groan passed her lips.

Blake grinned down at Y/N, crossing over to her before she could stand and pinning her down with one foot to her chest. He leaned himself down to look at her face, tilting his head as blood from his nose dripped down onto her stomach and what was left of her white tank top, “Gemini said to bring you back alive… He didn’t say anything about bringing you back unharmed.” He told her as he pulled out a knife, flicking the blade out and throwing it into her shoulder.

It didn’t take long after that until Bucky came flying through the bathroom door, feeling Y/N’s sudden pain and hearing some type of commotion in the bathroom. His eyes darkened as he saw Blake with his foot on Y/N’s chest and a the knife sticking out of her shoulder. His angry gaze set on Blake, walking towards him and grabbing onto his throat with his vibranium arm that made mechanical noises as it moved. Bucky slammed Blake against the wall, holding him high enough off the floor that his feet were dangling above the floor. Bucky couldn’t find words, the only thing he was seeing was white hot rage.

Y/N got up, pulling the knife out of her shoulder and twisting it in her fingers. She walks over and puts one hand on Bucky’s arm, “I got this, it’s okay.” She said softly to him, knowing her words and touch would calm him. She watched Bucky drop Blake to the floor, stepping back a little with a look towards Y/N. She nodded at him then focused her gaze back on Blake who was getting to his feet, “Blake, meet my soulmate.” She said to him, twisting the knife in her fingers again.

Blake’s eyes flickered between Bucky and Y/N, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Little bit of a damaged good if I have to say so myself. Does he just stare?” He teased and looked back to Y/N.

Y/N shrugs slightly, “He likes to stare. Sort of his thing.” She replied before advancing, swinging the knife that only connected every few swipes. Blake knew a lot of her movements from their time together and easily blocked most of them, even landing a few himself. Y/N gripped onto his arm, dropping the knife from her grip as she crawled on top of him, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and landing elbows to his head as he slammed her back against the walls trying to get her off. She adjusts herself on his shoulders, slipping down a little so she could wrap one arm around his throat and the other on the top of his head. As Blake flailed around trying to get her off of him, he turned his neck which was what Y/N was waiting for. When he moved his neck, the hand on her head gripped the side of his face and pulled his neck further one way while her other arm pushed his neck the other way. One snap, and Blake was on the floor and Y/N caught herself on the wall so she wouldn’t fall.

Bucky watched the fight ensue, wanting to help but knew Y/N had it covered. Once he watched Blake fall to the floor dead with a snap of his neck, Bucky’s eyes flashed to Y/N and helped hold her up, “You alright?” He asks before continuing, “You shouldn’t of killed him. We should’ve brought him back to the facility.”

Y/N looked at Bucky, frowning a little, “The job was to kill him, Bucky. I know that’s not you anymore but you don’t know what he’s done. If his name appeared on the card, it was for a good reason.” She told him, pushing herself out of his grasp and leaning down to Blake’s body, pulling the gold card with her name out of his pocket, “Besides, he had my name also from Gemini. He wouldn’t of stopped until the job was done and anybody who works for my brother deserves death.”

Bucky’s grow furrowed at the card, seeing Y/N’s name on it, “Well, we should probably get out of here. Don’t want to be the ones standing over a body.” He said, remembering suddenly Y/N’s wound to her shoulder. He stepped forward and put his hand over it, pushing slightly to put some pressure on it.

Y/N leaned into his grip, “Yeah, probably should go. I mean, the body won’t matter. Someone always winds up dead in the bathroom here anyway.” She chuckles a little, slumping against him slightly as the adrenaline left her body.

Bucky wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, helping her out of the bathroom and walking her out of the club. Nobody even glanced twice at the blood that spattered on Y/N, it was a regular thing at this club for someone to end up battered. Bucky helped her onto his bike, making sure she was secure around him before zooming back towards the facility. Once they were back inside, he immediately led her to the med bay where she sat on the counter while Bucky examined her wound, stitching slowly, “I could’ve helped you.” He said, breaking the silence.

“It wasn’t your job.” Y/N replied, her face unmoving as the needle threaded through her skin. She watched Bucky closely, he was so focused on her wound but she could tell there was something hiding behind his eyes.

Bucky finished the last stitch, setting down the needle and finally meeting her gaze, “I’m your soulmate, Y/N.” He said to her, “That may not mean much to you but it means everything to me. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you? I thought I was going to be alone forever, losing out on the only thing that I thought could bring me even an ounce of happiness.” His voice was growing more bitter with every word, slowly standing so he towered over Y/N as she sat, “You’re my soulmate. I feel everything you do. Your pain, grief, rage. I feel all of that. And I know you feel something for me… It may not be love, but it’s something. I feel it. So why can’t you just let me help you?”

Y/N bit her lip as she listened to him, feeling the honesty in his words. She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair slowly as her gaze set on his eyes… Those hypnotizing puddles of blue that made her stomach twist in a way that wasn’t sick, but warm. She pulled her eyes away, looking at her hands, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” She said softly, honestly, “I know I’m not the best soulmate. I’m sure you were expecting instant sparks and love-doviness all around. I was trained to resist the soulmate bond.” She told him, returning her eyes to his as she watched a hint of sadness appear behind them, “But I do feel something for you. And I don’t want to resist it.”

Those words were all Bucky needed to hear. Some sort of acknowledgement of their bond was enough for him to step closer, positioning himself between her legs as she sat on the table in front of him. His vibranium hand moved to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her face close to his until their lips met. He groaned a little feeling her kiss him back, slipping his tongue between her parted lips. There it was. There was that spark he had been waiting for from Y/N. His flesh hand moved down her back, pulling her forward until she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to not slip off the edge. He separated his lips from her’s, kissing down her jaw and to her neck, smiling when he heard Y/N breathe out his name as she craved more of his touch, “I’m gonna rip your stitches if I keep going, doll.” He breathed out between kisses to Y/N’s neck.

Y/N didn’t care, her fingers snaking up into his hair and letting out deep breathes as every touch of his felt like fire on her skin, igniting a fire within her she long thought had been extinguished, “You can just stitch it up again later…” She responds, a small moan passing her lips when he kissed the crook of her neck.

Bucky pulls himself away from her, looking at her figure. She still had blood on her shirt and skin and suddenly a thought came into his head and he grinned, “C’mon darlin. I’ll get you cleaned up.” He picked her up, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist. His breath kept hitching when he felt Y/N press her face into his neck, leaving small kisses and love bites along his skin. Bucky didn’t waste anytime carrying her to the elevator, clicking the button to the floor with his room on it. Once the doors opened, he immediately made his way down the hallway passing Sam and Natasha on the way who just stared at them until Bucky was in his room with the door slamming behind him. He walked her right into his bathroom, sitting her on the counter and separated his body from hers, grinning at her as he stepped into his shower and turned it on before returning in front of Y/N. He peeled off his shirt slowly, his dog tags jingling with the movement and dropping to his bare chest once he was freed of his shirt.

Y/N tilted her head and smiled at him as she saw his bare chest. She bit her bottom lip and reached out a leg to wrap around the back of his thigh, pulling him closer to her body again. She ran her hands up his muscular figure, watching him shiver a little at her touch. She leans up against him, pressing her lips against his chest softly.

Bucky groaned at her touch, he couldn’t help it. She was so intoxicating to him with every touch. He pushed her away gently, slowly lifting Y/N’s shirt off of her gently as to not disturb the wound he had just stitched. He grinned at her before dropping his hands to his jeans, undoing his belt and zipper and pushing them down around his ankles and stepping out of the clothing to be left in his boxers. He quickly disappeared behind the glass of the shower that had steamed up before throwing the boxers up over the top to land beside Y/N on the counter, “You coming or what, doll?”

Y/N laughs a little, licking her lips as she did. She scoots herself off the counter and quickly freed herself from the rest of her clothing before slipping into the shower with Bucky. Her body was immediately pressed against the tile wall by his muscular frame, causing her to gasp a little. She could feel all of his skin against her’s and it was electrifying. She pushed her chest up against his, smiling as she heard a small groan pass his lips again. It was like music to her ears, a sound she wanted to hear over and over again.

Bucky ran his hands over Y/N’s bare body, familiarizing himself with every part of her skin. His vibranium hand rested against her breast as the other trailed down her stomach until he found between her legs, grinning as he felt her already wet and not from the water, “Mhm, doll.” He whispers as he pressed his lips to her’s, “You’re already ready for me?”

Y/N whimpers against his lips at his words as his flesh hand slowly entered between her folds, making her hips thrust up against his. She could feel his hard length on her hip, making her wiggle with want. Even though he slipped another finger into her entrance, that wasn’t enough. She wanted more of him. Her body wanted all of him, “Please Bucky…” She moans out, her voice echoing against the shower walls.

Bucky moved his kisses along her jaw. He knew he was driving her wild by the way her hips pressed against his in want and the way her wet walls ached around his finger’s, “All you had to do was ask, pretty girl.” He purred out to her, pulling his fingers out from her core. He quickly lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed her back to the tile wall, lining his thick member up with her entrance and letting out a deep breath as he felt her slick on his tip. He slowly slid himself into her, pulling his face away from her’s so he could watch Y/N’s features twist in pleasure as he inched his way deep into her core. Once he was all the way in, he stilled feeling her walls pulse around his cock and adjust to his size.

Y/N tilted her head back as he stilled inside her, even just him unmoving was enough to send her over the edge. That coil in her stomach tightened painfully, causing her to whimper out Bucky’s name between pleads of him to move inside her.

“Mhm… You want me to move, darlin?” Bucky asks, grinning at the sight of her pleading with him as his name passed her lips. Since he had met Y/N, he had never seen her plead with anybody or fall apart into a submissive state and seeing her like this and knowing he was the cause of it was driving him wild. He slowly started to thrust in and out of her, watching her breasts bounce against his chest gently with every thrust. God she was beautiful, but even more gorgeous with her naked body pressed against his. His own groans mixed with the sweet sounds that passed Y/N’s lips as he quickened his pace until his hips were slamming against hers, thrusting into her as deep as he could.

Y/N was letting out gasps and loud moans between deep breaths at his thrusts. Nobody had made her feel this good before, pushing her off the edge so quickly. She could blame it on the soulmate bond, the want their bodies needed to be like this but she knew this pleasure was just pure Bucky. Her hands gripped onto his shoulders, her nails leaving small crescent shapes as she gripped onto him, “Oh fuck….” She hissed out when he hit the right spot inside of her, causing her to fall of the edge in an orgasm. She slumped slightly against his chest, leaning her head on his shoulder as she whimpered out.

Bucky let out a loud groan when he felt Y/N release on him but didn’t slow his pace, “So good… Exactly made for me…” He thrust into her quickly a few more times before setting her down on her feet, pulling out of her slowly. He moved his hands to her waist, quickly turning her around against the tile wall. One of his hands trailed down her waist until it was behind her knee, forcing it up against the wall as he positioned himself back to her slick entrance from behind, pushing himself back in with one swift thrust. He growled slightly as he placed his forehead on the back of Y/N’s shoulder, nipping at her skin as he thrust fast and hard into her until he felt her walls clench against him, knowing she was close again.

Y/N gasped as the cold tile pressed against her chest, then the gasp turned into a loud moan when he slid back into her. Her body shook against his as he thrust into her making her body almost collapse against the wall if it wasn’t for Bucky pinning her there. Her body crumbled as her second orgasm peaked, arching her back against the wall and throwing her head back into a soft scream of pleasure.

Bucky smiled against Y/N’s skin as she came again, thrusting deep into her before pulling out, his thick white, hot strands landing on Y/N’s thigh and dripping down onto the tile floor. He quickly turned her around, watching her eyes roll slightly back as her body shook with pleasure. He held her upright until the ripples in her body passed, kissing all over her face gently trying to bring her back from her high, “Bet nobody’s done that to you before, doll.” He teased out with a chuckle, “So good you gotta take a break?”

Y/N breathed deeply, catching her breath and laughing a little at his comments, “I knew you were the jealous type… I know you were thinking of erasing every trace of Blake from my body.” She teased back knowingly. She could feel what he was thinking when they were at the club when Blake’s hands were all over her, jealousy and possession dripped off him when it came to her. She slowly pushed him away from her, “At least you don’t have to stitch me up again.” She said softly, looking at her shoulder that had remained stitched shut before looking up to Bucky with a smile, “Let’s get cleaned up. Sex always makes me hungry, but great sex makes me ravenous.”

After Y/N and Bucky finished their shower together and got dressed, they walked out into the kitchen where Sam and Natasha were sitting. Sam had a scowl on his face towards Bucky, “Man, my room is right next to yours. And the shower echoes.” He hissed out.

Y/N laughs a little and rolls her eyes before Bucky could speak, “Hey, I was ready to go in the med-bay. At least we made it to the shower so everybody didn’t get a show.” She snapped back with a smile as Natasha started dying in laughter.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, sneaking his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer as he kissed her temple softly. Now, Y/N was his and he wasn’t going to let her go. Their bodies were like one, each other could feel everything the other felt physically and mentally. Bucky got what he always wanted, a deeper connection with someone and nobody was more perfect for him than Y/N. For once he found himself thanking the world and all the things it had done to him just to lead him to Y/N.

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes soulmate #bucky barnes soulmate series #bucky barnes series #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

[boxofbadaddiction]

The Missing Piece

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader(Platonic)

All I Wanna Do Continuation

Warnings: Swearing. Angsty.

A/N: I know this was only meant to be a two part series...but I'm hopeless. So I present to you; Part II of (?)

It had been a couple days since y/n ran into George in Diagon Alley, revealing the hardest of truths to her long time friend. That being of her secret child to one Fred Weasley, conceived only the day before his death. The one whom she kept secret from her whole old life in London, after running from it. Marcos was the Weasley no one knew existed.

It had been more than difficult when George discovered the truth, seeing a young Fred with peircing y/e/c eyes barrell towards the two adults during a casual conversation between old friends. It'd hurt George more than he thought it were possible to hurt, no injuries sting ever coming close to the one he felt that day. However, after a night spent bonding with his newly discovered nephew and multiple nights of y/n explaining everything to him. From the night before the battle; which involved a little too much information in Georges opinion, to the day they accidentally crossed paths, he'd found a way to forgive her.

He'd been so angry in the beginning but now that they'd spoke and he saw her side none of that mattered. He couldn't stay mad. Not really.

It turns out though that y/n and Marcos had been staying in a small Muggle Inn as y/n searched for a place to relocate whilst Marcos reddied to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something which George refused to stand for, and so that's how for the past 4 days the two had been living happily above the store of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, number 93 Diagon Alley.

George hadn't been happier in so long, to have someone else living within the flat with him. To have someone to come home to. A family no less. Y/n felt the same way. But that didn't mean the dread of letting the rest of the Weasley family in on her dirty little secret were any less prominent in her life. Even George had to admit he was nervous as to how they'd react.

Of course since Marcos had learned of the additional family members, he were yet to meet, he'd been pestering the pair as to when he'd finally get to see them. So, often y/n and George found themselves up late planning the right way to go about it.

They'd decided on a meal at the Burrow with the entire clan present. No exceptions - meaning Dragon Boy himself, as well as the Workaholic. They'd worked out all the kinks through countless Owls flown tirelessly back and forth and it was settled.

Tomorrow at 5pm, the three (two as the family expected) were to arrive via the Floo network, in accordance with the fact Marcos had never travelled by Floo before and was eager to experience it. Though if you asked Mr and Mrs Weasley the reasoning, they'd say the pair simply preferred that way.

At 4:52pm, the day of, Marcos could be found waiting eagerly and very impatient by the fireplace of the Twins flat. "Come ooooon, Mum!" He whined staring to his uncle and mother fussing over whatever he-knows-not, whispering seriously to one another by the kitchen counter. "In a moment, bud." George answered, receiving a huff in response.

George had his hands placed firmly on y/ns arms to steady her as he spoke sternly, eyes fixed directly onto hers. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll be with you the whole time. They're going to love him." "It's not him I'm worried about." Y/n croaked, voice thickly laced with emotion, "I know this is what's right and he'll fit in perfectly, that they'll love him unconditionally. But what of me George, I kept him from all of you. How could they ever look at me again. Let me in that house again. I know it sounds selfish but I'm not worried for him at all. Because it's what's right. But just because it's the right thing to do doesn't mean it makes this whole mess any easier. There wouldn't even be a mess if it weren't for me." Y/ns head dropped, picking at her nails in attempt to distract herself from the burning that set in behind her eyes and in her throat.

"Hey." Lifting a delicate finger to the underside of her chin, George pulled y/n's attention back to him, "You did what you thought was best for you at the time. What you did wasn't easy and I understand it now, just like they will. Once you explain and they meet him...there's no way they can stand against you. Okay? It's going to be okay." The whites of y/n's eyes burned red as she held back the tears which were ready to spill. All it took was a nudge, in the form of a tight comforting George Weasley style hug, to knock them over the edge.

"Can't you hug when we get there?" Marcos groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration this causing his Uncle chuckle. Y/n pulled back and looked to the clock on the wall, 4:59pm. Wiping the few stray tears still running down her cheeks she stepped toward her son. "Sorry sweety." She smiled sadly, fixing his hair. "Why are you crying?" her son asked simply. "It's just...it's just been a very long time since I've seen any of these people. It's got me a tad emotional. Don't worry, we can go now." "ALRIGHT!" The boy yelled excitedly, jumping into the large fireplace. George placed a hand to y/ns back, guiding her in next to Marcos as he grabbed a handful of powder and stood to the boys other side.

"Everyone ready?" George spoke with a wide-eyed, unnerved expression to y/n, "ready!" Marcos bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly while his mother, unknownst to him, offered back a grimace and shrug. "Yeah that seems about right" George spoke more to himself. Looking back out over his living room tight-lipped he grasped the boys shoulder, "The Burrow." He dropped the glittering dust in a swift motion and the three were quickly engulfed in vivid green flame. Here goes nothing.

This dinner would be the first time everyone had been together in years. Since the war if you were to include y/n in the family head count, which Molly did. So as you can imagine she had been fussing over every nanodetail to ensure the whole night went perfectly.

"Molly dear, you must try to relax. You've out done yourself, everything looks splendid and they'll love it." Arthur assured his wife, with a light kiss to her cheek. "I just haven't seen her in so long, not since...well-"

Y/n and Molly had shared such a close bond as she grew up alongside the Twins. The sort of connection Mothers dream of having with their daughters. Y/n came to her about absolutely everything; classes, grades, bullies, boys. There was nothing the two couldn't talk about. So when y/n disappeared after the War, well to Molly it were as if she'd lost another part of her family: the pain she felt neared that of losing another child. That day Molly Weasley very well lost a piece of herself.

It was no wonder her emotions were currently running ragged at the thought of finally seeing her again.

"I have so missed her." "As I'm sure she has you but that is no need to overwork yourself dear, come sit in the lounge." Arthur directed his Wife back from the kitchen to where the rest of their family were gathered.

"Jeez mum, wish you loved us that much." Charlie joked over his mother's flustered form. "It's just y/n" Ron groaned. "The house looks lovely, Molly. But Arthur is right. You must relax." Fluer spoke from her place beside Bill. Though she appreciated the sentiment, their words did little to soothe her excitement and nervousness over tonight. "I know, I'm sorry everyone I'm just so excited to have her back. It's been so long after all." Arthur had his arm placed over her shoulders, stoking her arm contently as she stared to the clock on the wall. 4:52pm.

The group fell into comfortable conversation as they awaited the final two guests, all far more excited to see y/n than they'd care to admit aloud. This would be the first time any of them had seen her in over a decade.

A loud crash and a flash of green from the kitchen alerted the family huddled within the lounge just as the clock struck 5:00pm.

"Oh! They're here!" Molly spoke excitedly. George was the first to step out of the fireplace, ruffling his hair to rid the ash which coated it's ends: appearing like smoke from a flame as it hung from the ginger locks. The family moved quickly from the room, essentially jumping from their seats, to come greet them, however they were suddenly halted.

"Before you all swarm us!" George declared with palms raised towards the group, "there's a little uh-...announcement to be shared first. Or rather an introduction. You see we've brought someone with us." He looked back over his shoulder to y/n who was staring up at him with scared eyes as she trembled slightly in fear of what was to come. She glanced back to her son, hidden by the corner of the large stone wall of the fireplace before looking back up to George as if to say 'it's now or never'. "Just...try to have an open mind." His eyes were pleading for his family to understand even if they hadn't the foggiest what was going on. All their faces contorted as they looked between one another in confused anticipation.

George lowered his hands with a nod satisfied no one was going to tackle them in a crushing embrace or otherwise hectic greeting typical to that of the Wealsey family. Turning to the side so he no longer stood infront of y/n and the wall of the fireplace he encouraged his friend to continue. Y/ns eyes barely left George, aside from a quick nervous flick back over the gathered audience.

Turning back determinedly she reached her arms out for Marcos to hold, helping support him as he stepped down from the slightly elevated floor. There's a kind smile on his face as he moves toward the sitting room where the family is waiting. George places an arm on the back of Marcos nudging him forward slightly, with a nod to y/n, who is staring teary-eyed at him, breath hitching as she starts to panic. "Everyone..." he turns back to his family, "this is y/ns Son, Marcos." "Hello" he says simply with a warm smile.

Everyone looks like they've seen a ghost. Staring silently with mouths agape.

Though covered head to toe in soot his firey red hair sticks out like a Dragon in a flower patch. The Weasley hair. Not just that, it's his face. His entire body. His voice. It's everything but his eyes.

Marcos is quickly becoming uncomfortable as everyone just stares at him, this wasn't what he'd expected. He looks back over his shoulder to his mother. She steps forward and grabs his hand, placing her other on his shoulder, looking to George for strength as she speaks quietly, "I know I have a lot of explaining to do" she swallows hard looking back to the pale faced Weasleys, "but this has been too long coming and it couldn't wait any longer. If George's reaction is anything to go by I know you all have quite a few words to say to me. And I'll hear them all. I deserve it for what I've done."

Marcos looks up to his mother confused, what had she done? For all he knew they hadn't met simply because they lived in different countries. That's no reason why she'd be in trouble is it? He looks back around the room then to George who smiles warmly to him in reassurance. "Sorry isn't enough I know, but I am. Truly. It's time though, Marcos needs you. He needs his family."

No one says anything. Though all silent there's a mixture of strained emotions held within the room. Many teary eyes. Some white knuckles and poorly hidden anger. But mostly it's shock.

Bill's looking around his family, worried, someone needs to say something. They can't just stand there any longer gawping. Dropping Fluers hold he walks forward, heads turn at his sudden movement. He squats infront of Marcos smiling as he shakes his nephews hand with both of his "It's nice to meet you Marcos. I'm Bill," he turns slightly on the spot to point towards his partner, "that's Fluer, my wife." She offers a small smile and wave, then Bill turns back to face him "I'm the eldest of your uncles." He states proudly, "And the coolest" he winks speaking the final line in a whisper. Marcos smiles, whispering back "But Uncle George said that he's the coolest" "yeah don't listen to him, or any of the others - there'll be a lot of that going around." Bill chuckles.

Marcos starts to relax at his uncles attempt in conversation. Y/n and George smile sweetly to one another but with nerves still evident in their expressions. "How did you get your scars?" Marcos asks abruptly. "Marc-" y/n warns, "ah, now THAT is a pretty awesome story" Bill grabs both his hands in his once more, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet etching ever closer to his nephew as he readies to tell the story, "you see there was this fight, at Hogwarts, before the War where I was up against this Werewolf-"

"Alright, alright, Bill, don't hog the boy with your boring old Greyback story." Another redhead interrupted, walking forward from the group to push his brother to the side, Marcs face contorted in confusion, brows furrowing and head falling to the side. Did he just say his story, with a werewolf, was boring!?

"I'm Charlie" the man knelt before the boy smiling widely "and I am by far cooler than these ones don't listen to them." "How are you cooler?" Marc asked "I work with Dragons." He widened his eyes in mock surprise before smiling again. "REALLY!? DRAGONS!?" Marc lit up like a Christmas tree. Charlie turned his head over his shoulder with a smug shit-eating grin on his face as he taunted his siblings for the reaction he'd elicited from such a simple statement. "Yep. Dragons." "Do you have one!? Can I see it!? Are they really as dangerous as everyone says?" Marc was firing questions at him quicker than his breath could carry, his enthusiasm endearing and contagious as the rest of the family made their way to make their introductions.

"Move it Charlie" stated a firey haired young girl "Merlins bollock!" "Marcos, Language!" Y/n warned but her son paid no mind to the woman too engrossed in the individual before him. "I know you! You play for the Hollyhead Harpies!" It was Ginnys turn to grin smugly to her brothers as they were pushed to the side. "It's lovely to meet you Marcos." She hugged him warmly. George and y/n stepped back a couple paces to allow the family more room for introductions.

Y/n was quietly crying as George had his arm placed securely around her back listening along to the excited conversation of everyone present, her son in particular, each time he was met with a new face. Until it seemed to reach a peak.

"YOU'RE HARRY POTTER!" "There it is." George whispered amusedly in y/ns ear. "The one and only." Harry smiled, "I must say, you look so much like your father. Except the eyes of course you've got-" "-my mothers eyes. Yes. So people keep telling me." Marc nodded with thin lips, this being maybe the hundredth time he'd been told so. "Sorry, trust me, I know that line gets a bit old." Harry smiled to himself.

Y/n was wrapped up in the various pieces of conversation that met her ears as more introductions were made. She always felt something had been missing from her life, she assumed it were simply Fred. She was wrong. This is what she was missing. They were missing from her.

They were her missing piece.

"Hello, my boy, I'm Arthur - your grandfather it'd appear" he stated warmly very much liking the sound of that. "What do you do?" His grandson asked curiously. "I work with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry. Tell me..." Arthur began in a firm murmur, "do you know how exactly a 'microwave' works? I've been told it is a box which produces heat a-" "Daaaad not now!" Ron had grumbled. "I'm Ron. I'm an Auror with the Ministry" "like Mr Potter?" "Exactly." "Wicked".

"Greetings, Marcos. I'm Percy" came the next, posh, voice. "Hello, what do you do?" "I work within the Ministry-" Percy began before being interrupted by a sarcastic voice, "yeah don't worry about that one, Mate. Percy is in no running for the favourite uncle." George had spoke loudly causing a wave of chuckles to issue through the room.

Everyone was so warm and inviting and excited, it made y/ns heart swell. Hand placed to her chest as the other muffled her quiet gasps as joyful tears fell from her eyes. It was perfect, until she noticed something.

Where was Molly? Her eyes scanned the room, she was here not a moment ago where had she...

George noticed her shifting gaze and tensed posture. "Something the matter?" He whispered before his own eyes scanned the crowd of people. She needn't say a word as realisation struck swiftly, causing him to straighten himself. Dread flooded his body. "Don't fret, love" he whispered once again, gently rubbing her shoulder blades before taking a step towards Charlie - the closest member of his family - tugging on his shirt sleeve. Charlie leaned himself back towards his brother, eyes not leaving Marcos, nor the smile leaving his face. "Where's mum?" George asked. Charlie shrugged in response with a slight shake of his head "no idea".

Worry set in across Georges face, caught by Ginny across the room, whose head fell to the side as she silently asked the question, mouthing a simple "what?" To this George mouthed back "Mum?"

Her gaze quickly fixed to the room, brows furrowing as she noticed her mother's absence. Ginny looked back to George, shrugging she mouthed "up stairs?" George grimaced. It wasn't like his Mother simply to disappear. He certainly hadn't expected such a reaction. Given the circumstances, she should have been the first greeting him. With a suffocating hug and some offer of food.

"One sec" Ginny mouthed, holding up a finger while she quietly ascended the Burrows staircase in search of Molly.

George placed a firm hold around y/n again as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Ginny returned a few minutes later, arms wide with a shake of her head to let him know her search came up empty. George nodded a thank you, turning his head over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Empty. But the door...the door wasn't latched.

With a final squeeze to y/ns shoulder and a light comforting kiss to the top of her hair line he left her side for the first time since they'd arrived.

Y/ns arms wrapped around her body feeling far too vulnerable in the moment without George by her side. But she knew he had to be the one to find her.

Charlie's attention had been turned to the pair as he noticed Ginnys shrug in their direction. Looking just in time to see George walk towards the door as y/n tensed, insecurities and anxiety setting in.

He was unsure how to react. On the one hand he was ecstatic to discover he had a Nephew, one which oozed confidence and joy. One exactly like the Brother he'd lost. He fit like a puzzle piece into their lives, filling a hole they thought would never be filled. Though the cracks were still there, and he could never truly replace Fred - not that they'd want or expect him to, Marcos was the missing piece they needed in their lives. More than any of them probably realised.

On the other hand, however, Charlie was angry. Worse than angry. He was full-fledged fucking furious. Not an emotion usually acquainted with Charlie Weasley, the most carefree and open minded Weasley in the clan. To think someone he considered a friend, no. family. For years could just up and disappear from their lives, hiding this boy from them, this part of their family from them for more than a decade...it was a thought that made him sick. Feeling his throat close over and stomach turn at the disgusting lie he'd been unknowingly living. Talk about hard pills to swallow. Could he look past this?

Staring at the girl infront of him he did what he's always done. He began to reason. As painful as this is he knows there's two sides to every story and lashing out in anger is not going to solve anything. So he looks at it from her perspective; she'd just lost the man she loved. Perhaps she didn't know at the time she was pregnant? After that she ran, he remembered the last time he saw her. She'd broke down saying she can't stay in England any more, he'd thought it was just the emotions talking but she was gone days later, once everyone who'd died were buried. So she ran, and found out she was pregnant. She was alone and grieving and terrified. Still he couldn't see why she didn't think she could come to them. That was beyond even his reasoning, he assumed she'd explain all of this in due time. Until then what she really needed was for them to be there for her.

So, swallowing all those festering venomous thoughts he stepped toward her. Placing a tentative hand to her shoulder with a brief half smile. She looked to him defeated, his name falling from her lips in a sigh the beginning of an apology followed as she trembled before him. He silenced her with a shake of his head, wrapping her within his arms in a hug to let her know everything would be okay. "We're here for you" he whispered simply.

As George stepped out of the house in search of his Mother, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright unfiltered sunlight beating down overhead, he scanned the hills and the veggie patch - where she wasn't. Walking slowly he headed for the back garden - where she was.

Sitting with her back to him on their concret garden bench, her posture was stiffly straight but her head hung low. The light sniffle of her nose told him everything he needed to know about her current emotional state. He had been fully prepared to find her seething with anger, afterall she had never been afraid to cry infront of the family before but anger was something she rarely liked to broadcast. Unless of course a scolding was in order for her children's bad behaviour. But here she was crying.

He placed a gentle hand to her shoulder unable to think of the words to make his presence known. She jumped at the touch before placing a hand atop his own. "Mum?" He asked hesitantly, she didn't speak, only wiped the fresh tears which had fallen from her eyes with the corner of her appron. George moved to sit next to her, hand not leaving her shoulder. He patiently waited for her to speak knowing it best not to force any conversation.

His eyes travelled over her face; eyes puffy and red, lip trembling slightly. Then down to her hands which both now played tensely with her frayed appron ending. He always hated to see his mother so upset, usually he had a joke to crack making her smile but since Fred he had trouble 'picking up the slack', as it were. Never able to break an awkward silence the way Fred had. He needed that first line from another to prompt any sort of sarcastic or witty remark. Hate to admit it but he were a tad envious of his twin in that respect.

After several long minutes Molly spoke. "Oh, George..." she sobbed defeatedly. His attention was immediately back on her face, waiting for her next strangled set of words. "He-he...he's..." "he's not mine." George nudged playfully in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere but it comes out a tad sad in his opinion.

"He's so much like him. Exactly like him if not for the..." "eyes." George spoke, smiling fondly at the thought, "he has his mother's eyes." Molly faced him finally, "Why'd you leave?" He questioned. Gingerly running a hand through the hair above her sons scar she replied sadly "It was just too hard." And more tears fell.

"It's hard for all of us Mum, I know it's a lot and this would be the last thing you'd ever expect to come from the fireplace but it's what came. And through all the bad and confusing you need to see the good. You have a Grandchild. Your first. What you've always wanted." "But George, it's not-he..." "he looks exactly like Fred, sounds exactly like Fred and acts exactly like Fred. But he's not, I know. He's not Fred. But he's a piece of him. More than what we had." Molly was shaking with tears now as George spoke with her. A similar burning taking root behind his eyes, but he had to hold strong. The family needed that right now. "I know it's hard, believe me when I found out I-well...let's just say some bystanders were scared they were about to witness a murder" he chuckled. "I'd never been so angry. But y/n explained everything. She talked me through it and she'll do that with you. With everyone. You just have to give her the chance."

Molly scoffed slightly as she let out a long breath. Looking up to her son her heart swelled to think she was able to raise such a strong, passionate and caring young man. She'd never been prouder of him. Seeing how, through everything; the war, losing Fred, finding out the truth about Marcos. How he managed to stay that compassionate and loving young man she always knew...it was beyond her how he could do that.

She'd lost so much during the wars. In the first she lost her brothers, and countless friends, then she lost a son to the second. When had she lost herself along the way? It was then she knew she needed to be the mother he deserved. That they all deserved, stronger than she had been before. She had to be with her family now. The family which just grew by a member. "What do you say, Ma, Ready to meet your Grandson? Cause you know I've been telling him all about how his Grandmother is the world's best cook. Don't know how much longer he's going to be able to wait for one of your homemade apple pies I've been telling him so much about."

Molly began to smile through her light tears before her face dropped completely. "Oh no!" She'd near shouted placing hands to her mouth, jumping from her place on the bench and startling George in the process. "I didn't cook any apple pies! I didn't think to! Usually we only eat those on very special occasions and- well, yes of course this is the most special occasion...but I had no idea!" Molly paced back and forth fussing over the fact she had no pies prepared "oh, George, you don't suppose he'll be too disappointed do you? I'm sure I can whip up a batch before dinner. Oohh but I haven't any apples! I'll have to run to the store".

George sat smiling fondly as his mother twidled her fingers together stressfully. It was endearing he thought, how quickly her priorities change. It wasn't till she started running her hands through her hair and down her appron he knew she needed to be calmed down.

He stood, placing both hands to her elbows to stop her pacing, looking down to her with a grin "Mum...relax." "oh George but the pies!" "MUM! How bout, first things first...you meet the boy." Silent laughter radiated through his chest as her eyes flew open "oh of course! How could I be so selfish! Do I look okay? I don't want to come across as some nutter" "doesn't matter how you look, you'll ways be a nutter." Molly smacked her son's arm as he laughed.

Slowly the two made their way back inside, his arm tight around her shoulder. He found it concerning at how slow she were walking but knew this was a difficult situation.

As the kitchen door swung open all eyes fell to the pair. Marcos was sitting on the small coffee table of the sitting area as everyone was gathered around, filling him in on anything and everything he wanted to know. Y/n was tucked closely under Charlie's arm on the sofa. Everyone went quiet once again as the two rejoined. Y/ns eyes flew to George who nodded at her, letting her know everything was okay.

Y/n was the only one to move as George and Molly approached the group. She stood, grabbing Marcos by his hands and moving him towards his Grandmother.

He stood straightly, smiling before her as y/n knelt beside him. "Marcos, this is Molly. Your Grandmother" y/n smiled sweetly but nervous up to Molly who only had eyes for the boy infront of her. She had a hand placed to her mouth as she held back glistening tears. "It's nice to meet you" he held out his hand for her to shake, but she didn't move to take it.

"Wait for it" George smirked knowingly. Marcos dropped his hand slightly, head falling to the side in confusion. Wait for wha-

Molly instantly swooped down, engulfing the young boy in a bone crushing hug as a heavy breath left her throat. "We're so glad to have you here, my boy." She let him go, leaning back to place his face between her palms smiling brightly through joyful, unfallen tears. "Bit peaky, what's say we begin dinner" she asked warmly. "That sounds nice" Marcos mumbled through squished cheeks.

"Come, this way Dear," Molly placed a hand to his back directing him to where they'd be eating, fussing over the boy more with each step.

George and Y/n watched on as her son happily seated himself at the table and Molly began piling various foods onto his plate as the rest of the family did the same from the lounge, basking in the small moment shared between Grandmother and Grandson.

'This is how it should always have been' Y/n thought with a heavy heart. There was a calmness in her mind as she watched on, replaying the way the family had greeted the pair as they entered. Things might just work out better than she had feared. Might.

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #George weasley x reader #fred weasley/reader

[jjfics]

Rosemary and Thyme - On The Run | 02

ship: Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader 

summary: The Reader has killed someone and now the Hargreeves and her have to hide. So they look for shelter in the only place they know would welcome them: The Reader’s former employer. 

series: read part 1 here

author: jane jack aka your girl jjfics 

words: 3250 

warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood and homelesness, feelings of uncertainty and anxiety, flashbacks, angst, guns, allusion to smut (does not happen though, i’ve cut it right before), smoking 

a/n: i definitely did not expect it to be seen. i know 100 notes is not a lot, but i think i did pretty well for my second imagine out there, huh. thanks guys, for reading. i hope this one is just as great (or who knows, maybe better?). let me know if anyone would like a part 3. -jj

tags: @nimusicaltrash​ :3

Vanya and Allison were asleep in the backseat. Klaus, cramped between them, waved around a magazine he picked up from the last gas station you stopped at. Luther and Diego were discussing plans in the back, on the second row of seats. 

Five took the passenger seat, he was very tired from all the driving. He refused to make any stops at all until it was absolutely necessary. The dark circles around his eyes begged him to sleep, but he couldn’t. All he could feel was stress and desperation. I have to get my family to safety, he would think. 

Your now clean hands were clenched around the wheel of the car. The city was getting closer every moment and you unconsciously pressed harder on the gas pedal.

“Hey, hey! Careful there, I can’t read well when you go that fast” Klaus whined and you sighed. Right.

You saw Five look at his watch as he started bumping his right foot anxiously. Just a couple of metres away stood the “Welcome to Dallas” board.

“On time?” you ask, trying not to panic.

“Exactly on time” he reassures you with a nod. “Are you ready?” Ready? You were terrified.

“You’ll be okay. I’ll come inside with you, just in case.”

“What do you think old John can do to harm me?” 

John was your boss in the 60s. Your salvation. He was mesmerized by your voice that day at the bakery, and he kept asking people around until he found you. It was your second night sleeping under the open sky, and little did you know it was all going to change. He made you a star. One makeover later and a lot of clothing stores you basically swapped lives with Allison. He let you live in the apartment above the club. 

And he was probably also six feet under right now. 

“Oh I wouldn’t be worried about him.” Five replies sarcastically. “Maybe he has a son. Whoever is in charge of the place, might be an issue for us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… What if he won’t cooperate? What if he won’t understand, or worse, give us to the police…” after he said that, he looked zoned out for a moment, as if he was going through all the possible ways your plan could fail. 

If the police found you, you would be going straight to jail. There was no doubt that the Hargreeves could pay for your bail. So no worries with the police, really. But you were never going to be a free woman. The Commission would search for you, and if you killed one of them again, they would send new men after you until they made sure you were gone for good. As gone as the one you saw bleed to death. 

You put your hand on his knee as you turned left onto the main street. If the club was still standing it should be just around the corner. 

His attention switched back to you and he scoffed quietly. “Look at us. Just a couple of hours ago you were the one having a panic attack and now it’s my turn.”

A small smile appeared on your face. “We’re a team, remember?” And he mirrored the expression just before you parked the car. 

“Alright everybody, listen up!” he shouts so that everyone would turn and look at him. The sisters woke up too. They were all on the same train now. “Me and y/n are going to walk inside this club and arrange something so we’ll sleep safely for tonight. Vanya is going to wait in the car, ready to drive away and help us escape. Diego and Luther will wait outside. Got it?” Diego raised an eyebrow but Five continued “Just in case anything happens. You never know.” 

“I’ll wait with them, I need to breathe some fresh air” Allison said as she stretched her arms as far as she could in the small van. 

“Alright then” Five said, looking at the main entrance of the club through the passenger window. “Let’s get to this y/n” he gave you a small smile. 

You searched for his hand and squeezed it gently. 

The doors of the car closed behind you two as you got out of the car. Diego, Luther and Allison were pretending they were just locals talking about what not, getting closer to the big glass doors. When they stopped walking Diego turned a bit to the left and started laughing. This was it, your sign to go. 

“Hey, be safe, okay? Leave as soon as anything gets out of hand. We can find some other place to stay at.” Vanya told you when you were ready to get out of the car. Your best friend was worried about you, of course. She is always a bit anxious. But you had no other choice.

On the way here you were mentioned 8 times on the radio. You and the Hargreeves. Wanted criminals. This was your only chance to find shelter. If this didn’t work, you couldn’t really find some other place. You would pretty much have to sleep in the car or on the streets. No, impossible, you couldn’t go through that again. 

“We’ll be fine Vivi.” She chuckles sadly at the nickname you gave her in the early stages of your friendship. 

“Klaus, hand me that magazine! It’s my turn” Vanya said while tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.  

“Ah, fine.” he whined. “Turn on the radio.”

Hand in hand with Five you made your way to the front hall of the club, heading towards the bar, which was on a platform just above the empty dance floor. You took your sunglasses off as you sat on one of those black stools at the bar. Same leather like 50 years ago. It felt surreal to be here again, with Five sitting next to you. 

“What are you doing so early? And with a kid? There ain’t no party yet ms.” you couldn’t help but smile as you recognized the southern drawl. You pushed your foot on the floor and rotated the chair. There she was, with her hair pinned up the same way as always, wearing short heels that matched her dark lipstick. It had been so long since you had seen her. 

Amy Stephens, your boss John’s little sister. She should be 74 by now, and even though she was just 17 when you started working at the club, you still knew who she was. Amy was the only friend you had during those months when you were alone. You showed her how to do her make up, you went shopping together when you needed new stage outfits, you taught her how to fight, something John would’ve scolded you for if he found out.

“Hello.” you said looking kindly at your old friend. “I’m not here for any party. I’m just looking for someone.”

“Oh well, let’s see if I can be of any help to ya. What you got?” 

“Do you happen to know a Stephens?” Five asked her. 

“Stephens? Yeah, yeah, that’s me kid. With what business are you coming here?” she questioned resting her arm on her hip. 

“Are you in charge of the place?” you said putting your glasses in the pocket of your jacket.

“Sure am. Can I help you?” 

“Yeah… we… uh… a friend told us you used to give the apartment for rent? Is that… still available?” You didn’t quite know how to carry the conversation without blowing your cover. 

“Ah, yes. It’s been a long time since anyone slept in there. You knew the famous y/n Hargreeves used to live here?” Five suppressed a smile, winking at you, but the woman didn’t notice. “Do you kids even know her? You look young. Anyways, popular singer back in 62. Or was it 63?” she muttered.

“Big fans” Five told her.

Your name wasn’t Hargreeves, of course, but you had no certificate when your boss found you. So you did everything you could to associate yourself with Five and his siblings in hope you might find them.

“Would you be interested in staying here?”

“Yes, that’d be really nice” Five said eagerly.

“Follow me, I’ll show you around.” 

The door to your old apartment opened and little dust particles could be seen floating in the morning light. Amy pushed the wooden door with her shoulder and walked inside. 

“My God, we haven’t been in here since Ms Hargreeves moved out. Seems like she really was our last tenant” she whispered, but you heard her well. “But don’t worry children, the place is clean. There’s two bedrooms and a bathroom, a small kitchen and a balcony. Come come”. You knew that grin, it meant the apartment has probably been rotting ever since you left.

She led you to the bedroom that wasn’t used when you lived here. “See, two rooms, perfect for you and the kid, huh” She tried to convince you. Five chuckled and put his arm around your waist when she turned around to walk to the main bedroom.

“And this… this is the second one. There’s still a luggage full of her stuff under the bed but I can get rid of that for ya.” she slapped her hand on the mattress and more dust came out of it. “So what you thinkin’? You like it here?”

“Oh that's not a problem girl, bring them in. As long as you don’t make too much noise after 11 pm, we’re all good.”

You shared a look with Five to tell him This is the best we could do. He nodded and you both turned to look at Amy who was now staring uncomfortably at the two of you. Yeah, you would have to hide your relationship around her. He moved his hand casually and then you spoke again. “Yes, this is quite what we were looking for. But it’s not just us. We’ll be 7, including me, my boyfriend and his 5 siblings.” 

“Isn’t there noise from the party downstairs anyways at that hour?” Five asked her. The expression on Amy’s face changed as she looked down. 

“The party huh… you’re not from here are ya? Well, I was just joking earlier, kid. When y/n Hargreeves left the club, the people got angry. She was the main reason why people still came. Most stopped coming after some time, it simply wasn’t smart to keep the club partying. Now it’s nothing more than a property.” 

They… went bankrupt, because you stopped showing up? You knew people loved you, but John never told you you were the one holding up their business. A tear rolled down your cheek. All that fame, all the posters. You had bleached your hair when you returned to 2019 and you wore sunglasses everywhere. No one could know who you were. Some get their 30 seconds of fame, you got your year. One year could mean your whole life sometimes. 

You were laying on Elliot’s couch with the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you were trying to take off your coat. Five reached to help you mouhting I got it. He took your coat to the hanger and then disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Hello, this is John Stephens speaking.” 

“Hi, John. It’s just me, y/n. I- uh, I’m calling from a friend's house. I think I’m going to spend the night. Just thought it’ll be fine for you to know in advance.” 

“y/n, yes. So, what you’re saying is... that you won’t be here in time for tonight’s show?” he said anxiously. You didn’t know this at the time, but he was worried about losing profit.

“No no, I just- I would really want to hang out with my friend and it’ll be just for tonight.”

Gosh, you were reasoning with him as if he were your dad.

“Oh,come on, Hargreeves. Not even one song?”

You laughed at how disparate he was. “Sorry. Not even one. I’ll be gone til morning. But I’m sure no one will miss me that much. Besides, you can always ask Amy to sing. She’s been getting better. For real, John. That girl has potential.”

“There ain’t no well in hell I’m letting my sister get up in front of all these drunks to sing. She’s just 17, woman!” 

You couldn’t stop laughing now. “Goodnight, John. I’ll- Well I’ll see you on Monday if we don’t run into each other.”

“Have a nice evening, y/n” 

You hung up the phone and rose from the couch. When entering the kitchen you saw Five pouring coffee in two big mugs. You went and hugged him from behind, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. You could feel him smiling as you kissed him again. He took the mugs and turned around to face you leaning on the counter.

“Did you miss me?” he asked innocently, making you giggle. 

You leaned in and kissed him. You could still taste the coffee on his lips. He kissed you back and you felt him smirk as you laced your hands behind his neck. 

“Did I miss you?” you asked him back rhetorically. And you could see how eager he was to meet your lips again. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, and one on his shoulder, and then you hugged him tightly. “I did. A lot.” 

“I know what it’s like to be alone. I promise you, we won’t have to go through that again. I’ll try everything I can do to be together forever.” 

“Forever?” you asked.

“Assuming you won’t kick me out, of course.” You smacked his arm.

“Idiot.” you said between laughs. “Give me one of those mugs.” 

He hands you your coffee and you take a sip. “Black?”

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said.  

You both sat back on the couch and went over anything and everything. How you got famous. Where the others were. How he just arrived. What he saw. How long everyone had been here. 

“How long do we have?” you asked, searching for his eyes. 

He leaned back on the couch. “A lot more than last time. Enough time to find out what causes it, and more importantly, how to stop it.” 

You smiled at his words. After all this time, you were finally reunited, and no one was rushing you now. You had nothing to lose anymore, except time. Your hands unconsciously inched towards his thigh and you traced small hearts on his leg. “That means we can breathe safely for a while, right?”

Five brought you closer to him, straddling him now. He brushed your hair behind your ear so you could see him better. Your fingers explored his face carefully. The bump of his nose, his cheeks, his dimples as he grinned at you. Gosh, how you had missed his dimples. You missed everything about him. 

“We have almost one full year,” he said. 

“Then we better make the best of it, right?” you said as your lips brushed against his. 

He laid his head on the fluffy cushions and you followed, not breaking eye contact. His blue eyes scanned yours and your soul ran wild. You towered over him and pressed your forehead on his. Suddenly, the sound of the cars outside stopped and it all went silent. In this moment, there was only you and him. And this moment would exist forever.

You had to make up for all the time you were apart. You kissed him passionately, closing your eyes. His hands flowed along your curves and rested on your hips, pressing you hard on his chest. The kiss tasted like his favourite kind of coffee. Every movement of yours was matched instantly by him. He didn’t need words to know. Neither did you. 

Five pulled away for a second, looking at you lovingly, desire clear in his eyes. He took your left hand in his and shifted you so that you were laid on your back. He sat on his elbows just above your head. Your hands hugged his shoulders, getting him to slowly bend down. You could feel your eyes fill with tears as you watched him watch you. A flash of worry appeared on his face, but just for a moment. 

Five wiped your cheeks with the back of his palm, and kissed your cheeks. You kissed his hand and he kissed yours back, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His kisses started to travel upwards, to your elbow, then shoulder, then neck, then down again. You closed your eyes as his kisses passed your collarbone. He tugged softly on your shirt. 

“May I?” he hummed with a boyish smirk you hadn’t seen in a long while. You nodded, brushing his hair back.

“Yes, please.” you flushed.

He started unbuttoning your shirt, enjoying every second of it. With every button, he would press one more kiss. With every breath, you would inhale his sweet scent, praying to never forget it.

The morning was cold. Diego and Lila were asleep in the bedroom, Elliot on an armchair. Oh, the poor man couldn't even sleep in his own bed. Five was on the couch, next you. You pushed the blanket closer to him and got up after pecking his forehead. 

“Goodmorning, y/n.” he whispered, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

“Morning, Five.” 

“Where are you going?” he whined.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be right back”

You searched for your shirt and pants only to find them underneath your pillow. Getting dressed up in a hurry, you covered your shoulders with what seemed to be another blanket… or a really long scarf. Either way, it was warm enough. You reached for a cigarette in your pocket and made your way outside. 

You sat on the cold stairs that led up to the entrance of the building and watched the people pass the alley. 

“Look at them, rushing to get to their shitty jobs in time, to get their kids to school, rushing, rushing, rushing.” you scoffed under your breath.

“Good thing we don’t have to rush anywhere, right?” a voice startled you. You turned your head to the door to see Five already dressed nicely with a mug of, probably, coffee again. How convenient it could be for him sometimes to jump through space. Always a step ahead of you.

“That's not healthy.” he pointed at your cigarette. 

“That’s not either” you said gesturing to his drink and he chuckled, amused.

“Yeah, well, at least I won’t get sick” he sat down, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“We can’t have that happen. Even a cold can be deadly for an old man like you.” You bumped your cigarette on the side of his mug smiling. “Cheers” 

Making your way back to the car you saw everyone was outside. 

“Vanya why are you not in the car?” Five asked immediately.

“It just took too long and I was worried.”

“Is it so hard to just stick to the rules? Is it? All you had to do was sit there.” he sighed.

Everyone looked worried, so you smiled softly. “We got the key guys, it’s all good. Let’s go upstairs, I’m tired.”

“Thank, God.” Allison said so relaxed, unaware of the gun pointing at her from behind a tree nearby. She walked to the club’s doors. “Let’s go.”

#number five #five x reader #five imagine #five hargreeves #five #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number 5 x reader #number 5 #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #tua imagine #number five imagine

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 23 - Free

Summary: George and Fred welcomes you home for the summer, but when you return to your house with the twins something horrifying is waiting for you

Warnings: Death

Word count: 3.3K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

Great anticipation took over you as you walked back to the muggle word at King’s Cross station. You haven’t seen George in ages. Even if the crystal had been glowing on your neck from time to time, the last couple of weeks were just horrible without him. To be honest, you missed Fred, too. You missed them both so much.

Ginny pointed and a sudden wave caught your eye a bit further away. You grinned like a maniac and fastened your steps, pulling your trunk behind you. When you were just a few meters away you broke into a run and soon abandoned your trunk completely to jump into George’s welcoming arms.

“I can’t believe I’m finally here!” you shrieked happily as he lifted you from your feet and spun you around.

“How was the journey?” he said, putting you down and kissing you on the cheek.

“Long,” you said. “Hey, Fred.”

You let go of George and hugged his twin, who looked just as happy to see you.

“Y/N, how’s everything?”

“Great. Why… Why are all these people there?”

“We were just having a word with Harry’s aunt and uncle,” said Mrs Weasley as she hugged you as well. Mr Weasley smiled at your from next to his wife.

“Y/N, always good to see you.”

“You too, Mr Weasley.”

“All right, Fred, George, don’t forget next Sunday, we’re expecting you for dinner.”

“Sure, mum,” said Fred, ready to leave. “Y/N, you fancy a coffee?”

“Of course,” you said. “But I thought…”

“Come now, we’ll explain everything,” said George, taking your trunk from your hand. “Bye mum!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Careful boys… and don’t forget Sunday!”

“Sure!” shouted back Fred, making a few muggles jump and turn towards him in suprise. Then he grinned at you and winked.

You hugged Ginny, waved goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley and hurried after the twins. George casually put an arm around your shoulder while Fred lead the three of you towards an exit on the left.

“So where are we going?” you asked suspiciously when you stepped into the night.

“For a coffee,” said Fred, grinning. You raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee? At night?”

“Sure, why not?” asked George with a cheeky smile.

The three of you headed down the street, away from the loud cars on the main road. Your trunk rattled extremely loudly on the empty streets. You had to be quick to keep up with the twins’ long steps.

“Sure, a coffee…” you said, continuing the conversation. “But I still need to get home in time you know.”

“Home?” said Fred, frowning. “I tought you didn’t wanna go back.”

“No, but…”

“You’re going back, after what happened last time?” said George quietly.

“I need to. If I want to move out properly I want my clothes… my stuff. I want to pack. I want to sell everything I can, and I also need to sleep somewhere until I find a place to live.”

Fred and George exchanged looks, smirking.

“Well, well, would you look at that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Let’s go in here,” said George suddenly, opening a door to a very old, very empty café. You sighed.

“One coffee?”

“One coffee,” they said reassuringly.

After managing to fit your trunk through the door, you sat down to the closest table next to the window. George sat next to you, and Fred opposite, ordering three coffees from the waitress who came to your table within seconds of your arrival. You were drumming with your fingers on the table, looking out at the dark street through the wet windows.

Even if you had no feelings left towards your parents, even if they meant nothing to you after the incident last summer, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Why wouldn’t you be nervous? It wasn’t a nice, idillic thing you were about to do… Facing them was always a great difficulty… but how will they react tonight when you appear on their doorstep, asking for one last week to stay?

These thoughts were giving you anxiety. You shivered.

“Are you cold?” asked George, putting an arm around you.

“A little,” you lied.

“So,” said Fred, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get down to business, I say!”

“Business?” you asked, more suspicious by the second. You chuckled. “What do you want from me, Fred?”

“Wait a minute,” said George, placing his hand on top of yours on the table. “First of all — How was the apparition exam, love?”

“Oh… Oh! I completely forgot about that!” it was true. There was just so many things happening in the last couple of weeks. “Yes, yes, I passed! It wasn’t that hard, really. Only two people failed, a Ravenclaw boy and a Slytherin girl who lied about her age and tried to do the test early. Shame they caught her, it was a clever move.”

“So, you have your license and everything?” asked Fred.

“Absolutely,” you said. George kissed you on the cheek proudly. Fred rolled his eyes.

“Can we have a conversation without you bothering her?” he said to George in mock offence. George grinned.

“Shut up, Fred.”

“Anyway,” continued Fred, looking at you, “did Ginny tell you what happened to Sirius?”

“Yeah…” you said, sadness in your heart. “I guess the Order told you?”

“They did,” nodded George. “And the paper was all about You-Know-You as well. After his appearance at the Ministry…”

“Which reminds me of our conversation,” interrupted Fred. “Y/N, you know we care about you dearly, right?”

You snorted.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve figured that out by now.”

“Great. So you know that now that the big evil guy is back…” started Fred.

“We cannot let you run around on your own…” continued George.

“— which is why we’ve decided —”

“— to move you in to our place.”

You looked at them, confused. They were surely joking.

“What?”

“How about that, eh? Move in with us for the summer, you can go back to Hogwarts the next term, come home for the holidays, anything you want.”

“But… What?”

The waitress appeared out of nowhere and placed three coffees on the table, then left. You were staring at yours and grabbed it rather hastily, drinking half the cup at once. You only spoke again when you finally put the cup back down onto the table with a soft clink.

“Are you… taking the piss right now?”

George chuckled and Fred shook his head with a laugh.

“That wouldn’t be nice, would it, eh?”

“I guess…” you said slowly. “But… move in… with you?”

“Of course!”

“W — why?”

Fred snorted.

“Is that a question? Look at my brother.”

You turned and just saw George admiringly gazing at you before he rearranged his face to be a bit more casual. His ears turned red, you chuckled and Fred continued.

“And, you know about me, I love having you with us… sis, ” he finished with another wink. You gave him a weak smile but were still uncertain.

“Are you telling me you have a house somewhere?”

“It’s more like a flat,” shrugged George. “Not too big but should be enough for the three of us.”

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley, of course!” he said, beaming.

“Just above the shop,” said Fred.

“So, what d’you say?” said George. You were eyeing your coffee.

“Yeah, I don’t know…”

“Why? said George. “What’s stopping you?”

“I just… I really don’t wanna live with you like some kind of… refugee.”

“We’re not fancying the idea of you going back home, either,” said Fred sternly.

“But… I’d leave after a week anyway… Find some place on my own…”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to live with us?”

“I… Still, I’d have to pay you for letting me do that!”

Fred and George locked eyes knowingly.

“We knew you’d said that,” said George, hiding his smile behind his cup and taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, and we’ve decided that you’d never give in. So, if you want, you can help out in the shop. That’s fun work, we’re having a laugh, everyone’s happy, end of story.”

You were staring at the two of them, the idea growing in your mind like a seed after being planted. First you thought it was ridiculous… How could you live there… But as the seconds passed, you had to admit… you liked the idea more and more.

“Even if I said yes,” you started and raised your voice immediately when Fred and George grinned happily. “I said ‘if’. I’d still need to go home, to pack at least. All I have with me are my Hogwarts robes.”

“That’s manageable,” said George.

“You think?” you said.

“Oh, everything’s manageable for my brother if it’s about you,” said Fred, teasing. George shot a sharp look at him.

“Come off it.”

You chuckled.

“All right… Then yes.”

George jerked his head back to you.

“Yes, as in…?”

“Yes, I move in with you.”

“Ha!”

George exclaimed with joy and immediately pressed his soft lips on yours. You smiled into the kiss. Fred drank his coffee pompously.

“Oh, young lovers… Maybe I’m regretting this already.”

“Shut up, Fred,” said George again, grinning.

“So, how’s it gonna go down?” you asked, holding back your excitement without much success. Fred shrugged.

“Let’s say we go there, you pack and we leave.”

“All right. When?”

“When you finish your coffee,” said Fred conversationally while looking at his watch. You nodded nervously.

“That’s all right. But I wanna be quick. I don’t want to spend more time there than is necessarry.”

“Don’t worry love,” said George with an evil grin. “We can keep your parents company while you pack.”

“Mm, maybe I should stun them while I pack…” you muttered under your breath, wondering. George snorted.

When you all finished your coffee, the twins transported your clothes to their flat so you’d have an empty trunk to pack into. Then Fred took your luggage, George took your hand and you apparated to your family home.

The house in which you grew up in stood just outside of London but still pretty close to the city. After a ten minute drive you’d reach a nice little forest and a narrow road that lead straight into a village. At the further end of the village stood the church, higher than all buildings. You lived close to the curch: just on the other side of the treeline; from the living room window you could always see the tower with the cross.

After apparating next to the church a sudden lurch of your stomach made you stumble. You felt nervous, slightly sick, and — you didn’t want to admit it, but — also scared. Last time you had been here your mother had hit you, and the memory was suddenly more painful as you were standing here, returning to the village. For the second time tonight you shuddered, but not from the cold.

“All you all right?” asked George. His low voice seemed like shouting in the quiet night.

“Yeah,” you said, not very convincingly.

“We don’t have to go in there,” he said.

“I know. Let’s go.”

You started walking, noticing that Fred was checking his wand in his pocket. You did the same. Being seventeen, you could do magic outside school now, but you were not sure wether you wanted to or not.

“Why is it so quiet?” asked George as you turned onto the dirt road between the trees.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I don’t think there’s much of a nightlife around here.”

“Let’s hurry up,” said Fred, letting you go in front of him at the turn. Just a few steps and you would be able to see your house.

“I agree. I hope they’re asleep. Would be nice to just —”

The sentence died in your throat and you stopped in your tracks. You looked at the house, the first second wondering why was the door open in the middle of the night…? Then your glance fell on the walls and you didn’t understand why did they have a weird, strange green light on them… Then you automatically raised your head higher and higher, your eyes searching the sky above the roof… And then you saw it. Floating in the air, a skull, with a snake moving out of its mouth. The… the…

“Oh, my God,” you whispered, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

“Y/N, wait!” George held onto your arm, wand in hand. His voice was tense and shaky. “Fred, bring dad. Now.”

“I don’t wanna leave y —”

“Go!”

“Don’t go in there…”

“We’re not, we’re walking back — Y/N, come on!”

Fred disapparted. You felt a strong hand on your arm, pulling you away, but you couldn’t move. You were staring at the Dark Mark, You-Know-Who’s mark floating above the house… your house. Your parents’ house! If it was still there that meant it had happened not a long time ago… If you hadn’t gone for that coffee…

You pulled away from George and walked steadily towards the house, wand in hand, mind clear. George ran after you, grabbing you desperately.

“No, Y/N, you can’t go in there.”

“I wanna see,” you said, but it was as though someone else was using your voice.

“No, that’s not a good idea, dad’ll be here soon, come, we need to leave — Y/N!”

You broke free and ran into the house through the open front door.

The kitchen was a mess. Broken plates, slivered shelves and cupboards… Silverware lying all over the floor, the tap torn from the fall, water leaking. You ran into the dining room, garbage and broken glass crunching under your shoes. In there, everything looked similar to the kitchen; the table split in half, pictures and photographs lying on the floor around the broken glass chandelier. The piano was thrown against the wall, its legs lying next to the door. You looked towards the living room and saw a foot on the floor.

“Y/N!” George reached the house as well and was now standing behind you. He gasped as he saw the leg of your father on the floor in the next room. He spoke hoarsly, pleading. “Don’t… don’t go.”

But you had already went. You stepped over the threshold, your eyes fixed on the dead body of your father… the dead body of the man who made your life a living hell for so many years. He was lying on his stomach, arms in weird angles, eyes glass-like, staring into nothing. In his hands he was holding a pamphlet.

Turning your head you saw your mother, too. She was fallen over an armchair, legs in the air, lying on her back. Eyes just as empty as your father’s. In her hand she was also holding a pamphlet, and now that you looked around you saw many many purple pamphlets all over the floor. You reached for one and read the title.

‘Witches are among us. We have to fight them together!’

Below that was a picture of a green skinned witch, riding a broom. To the broom a net was tied, in the net several babies and children were carried, all crying. The line read:

‘Don’t let them steal your children! We have to end their sin once and for all!’

And on the very bottom of the page you saw your parents’ names and address, encouriging anyone to come to them with trust. You felt nauseous.

“Y/N!” George stood next to you, his face paler as ever. You showed him the pamphlet with shaking hands.

“They wanted to fight us…” you said quietly. “They wanted a witch hunt… they recruited members… Death Eaters probably heard about it… Showed them some real magic…”

“GEORGE!” Mr Weasley appeared in the door with Fred. He seemed extremely disturbed. He hurried to his son and hugged him tight. “George, I told you never to go into a house that — Y/N! I… Merlin!”

He saw the bodies on the floor and stumbled. Fred was looking sick, staring at the pamphlets queasily. Mr Weasley’s voice was shaking.

“Kids… Out. Yes, go out, the Ministry is … George! Fred! Go out. All of you.”

The boys turned but you didn’t move. Mr Weasley stepped closer, his face frightened.

“Y/N… go — go with them. Please. This is not…”

“Come — Come, please!”

You felt someone pulling your arm and you started walking, glass and dried flowers crunching under your shoes on the way out as well. But this time, you didn’t see the house; you didn’t see anything at all. All that was floating in your mind was the violent purple color and the empty eyes of your parents.

You didn’t know how you felt. Shocked? Of course. Sad? You weren’t sure. They were your parents after all… But nothing more than that, really. Did they mean something to you after years and years of neglect? You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything.

A bunch of ministry workers ran past you, stepping into the house, heading towards the living room. You let them pass, stopping at the threshold. George was still pulling you by the arm, and when the ministry workers started shouting and giving orders from the living room, he lead you out into the night.

It was now completely dark outside. The absence of the green light was explained as you looked above the house and saw that the Dark Mark was already gone. As you breathed in the fresh night air, your mind seemed to clear a bit. Now you were able to think. Weirdly, the first thing you realized was that you were quite hungry.

“Come, come over here.”

A bench appeared not far from the house; how, you didn’t know. It was not there before. You sat down, George on one side, Fred on the other. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you wanted to say anything at all.

“Y/N?” said George while placing a lock of hair behind your ears. “Y/N, I’m so —”

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice surprisingly normal. “I’m good.”

You knew the twins exchanged looks, cause they didn’t answer for at least five seconds.

“Y/N…” started Fred. “You sure, that —”

“Yeah,” you nodded, staring at the ground but thinking clearly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Baby, I —”

“They didn’t love me after all,” you said. “I thought maybe… they were just angry and desperate… But turns out the moment they realised what I was, everything they had ever felt was gone. Remember what my mum said?”

“I…”

“She said they were no longer parents. And that I stopped existing to them the moment I embraced my… abnormality.”

You looked at the pamphlet that you were still holding. You felt disgusted.

“They wanted to punish not just me but everyone who’s like us. How could anyone hate their own child this much?”

Neither of the twins answered. You clenched your jaw.

“They were not my parents. They got what they deserved.”

You crumpled the pamphlet and threw it aside. You didn’t care what the twins thought. In this moment you didn’t care less. You looked at the house in which ministry officials were running up and down, and a tiny flicker of relief came over you. Those two lying inside were people who had always told you that you were abnormal. That you were less of a human being just because you were a witch. That you were violent and fearsome. They were people who didn’t realize that with some kindness they could’ve achieved more. They were people who were excrutiatingly evil to you.

And now those people were dead. And you were free.

And on the night your parents died, a small, tortured smile appeared on your lips.

#harry potter #george weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagination #imagine george weasley #george weasley imagination #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #georgeweasley #george weasley #fredweasley #fred weasley #fred and george #fred and george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagination #gred and forge #weasley twins #hermione #ginny #ron #ron weasley #weasley #weasley family #hogwarts #hogsmeade #kingscross #hp

[sweet-evie]

A Fantasy AU (Broken) WIP Written Months Ago Involving Marianne, Charles, & Child Lelouch -- Part of the Prologue

Marianne smirked at the thought of how unbecoming her idea of fun was. The other ladies of such an austere Court would have branded this inappropriate and ‘unlady-like’. Not that any one of them would have the guts to say that to her face. As Consort to one of the most powerful men in the world, she didn’t have the time to concern herself with the trivial and snooty opinions of the aristocrats.

Besides, there wasn’t anything wrong about personally supervising your son’s education on the way of the sword. She would have taken over his instruction herself. But alas, certain traditions had to be followed and respected -- even if she found them completely ridiculous.

Sighing wistfully, the Queen Consort carefully arranged the folds of her tailored gown, sitting in the shade of a canopy while one of her handmaidens stood behind. She kept a sharp ear on the clacking of clashing wood, her son’s grunts and impassioned yells, and the careful shuffling of feet on dirt.

“That’s it. Good. Don’t lunge yet. Step lighter.” Lord Andreas Darlton side-stepped a clumsy slash. The Prince yelped as he fell on his knees, wooden sword still tightly grasped in his hand as the shield tumbled to the dust. “Keep your shield up, Your Highness. You don’t-- Agh!”

Lord Darlton stumbled backwards, rubbing his eyes to rid them of sand. A handful thrown on his face by one determined and relentless child. Was the Prince this desperate for victory that he’d purposely discard fairness and honor? Marianne did her best to suppress a quiet laugh and an amused smile, watching her son as he moved on to snagging his chance. He whacked the Master of Arms on the elbows, the sides, and the knees.

“Your Highness, such unscrupulous tactics are below you.” Darlton coughed, gratefully accepting the damp towel one of the squires rushed to give him. He wiped his face and caught a glimpse of the Crown Prince’s chastised expression, wooden sword hidden behind his back as he hung his head. “A man fights with honor, extending respect even to his enemies--”

“I reckon that’s enough sword practice for today, Lord Darlton.” The Queen Consort of Britannia brushed invisible dust from her dress as she approached them and her distraught son.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Without words of protest, he acknowledged the Queen’s command once more with a respectful bow, extending the same gesture to the Crown Prince as well. Mother and son watched the lord leave with his squires and his aide-de camp, and Marianne waited until he was well out of earshot to address the young Prince, who in this stretch of time, gathered up his wooden weapons and put them away.

“Am I in trouble?” Lelouch asked, a tiny hint of meekness hidden in his voice, overshadowed by the obvious pride in his person.

Marianne raised an eyebrow. “No, of course not, my Prince. What compels you to think so?”

To his own credit, the boy did his best to suppress the surprise. He wasn’t going to be sentenced to stay in his room all day? “I cheated.”

A boy of eight. He still had so much to learn, but she was glad that he was on the right path. He thinks practically too, prioritizing self-preservation over tacky notions of ‘honor’ in a battlefield. Lelouch vi Britannia with his dust-stained face and grime-covered clothes. A ruler-in-training, she liked to call him in the privacy of her own mind.

“That wasn’t cheating, my love. You were smart.” Crouching just enough to be at his level, she brushed some dirt from his cheek -- leaving a streak of fair skin on-show. “I do not encourage you to train for ceremonial or traditional purposes. You’re fighting to survive and to protect yourself. You win, you live. You lose, you die. Life or death. You would rather live, wouldn’t you?”

The boy nodded, and Marianne flashed one of her charming smiles, ruffling the head of raven hair affectionately.

“Marianne.”

All turned to the stairs just in time to see His Majesty descend -- Bismarck Waldstein, an ever constant presence beside him. The Queen’s handmaidens, the passing servants, and the Crown Prince himself dropped into one knee in honor of the ruler who had recently taken control of the entire continent. Not a King. But, Emperor Charles. Lelouch mumbled this under his breath, wrapping his head around the fact that it was a title he would one day inherit.

“Oh hello darling.” Marianne crooned, disregarding formal Court etiquette. Emperor he may be, he was her husband first.

“A word.”

Two words coupled with a casual wave of the hand, dismissing those present in the vicinity. The servants scurried off to continue their tasks, the Queen’s handmaiden curtsied and made herself scarce. Lelouch looked at his mother with wide purple eyes, full of questions and unending curiosity. Still, she knew that whatever Charles was about to say was not meant for their son to hear. So she told him to go and find his sister and perhaps even a few of his cousins. She knew he wanted to stay, but her boy knew better than to ask questions he wouldn’t get answers to. Still a little miffed, he reluctantly received the casual pat on the shoulder from Charles zi Britannia himself, and accepted Bismarck Waldstein ushering him away from his mother’s and father’s rendezvous.

Marianne eyed her husband, took silent note of how broad his shoulders appeared underneath that tailored and regal suit. He was rather attractive, especially if he chose to do away with that atrocious powdered wig. How he could stand them, she would never understand.

She was still busy ogling him when his question cut through her almost inappropriate thoughts. “His studies and training are faring well, I presume?”

Oh, right… Their son. She nodded once to confirm and took his arm to lead him into the opposite direction. The training arena was built above one of the palace’s largest gardens. When she first came here, Marianne often wondered what the purpose was. Was there any political gain to be had for noble ladies to gawk at squires and knights sparring and training? Perhaps there was, now that she thought about it.

But this wasn’t why she opted to converse with her husband there. The orchard and the greenery offered lovely sights to stare at, and meant less hiding spots for any nosy eavesdroppers. Marianne held her skirts gingerly as they descended the steps.

“He can think on his feet. What he lacks in gifted swordsmanship, he makes up for with cunning.” Marianne smirked, nudging Charles’ side. “He is my son, after all, is he not?”

Charles allowed the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth as he grunted his agreement. “For his scholarly education?”

“Top marks from his tutors, as expected.” Marianne crooned as they entered the walkway between a row of flowerbeds. “But we both know you didn’t seek me out here, of all places, to talk about Lelouch’s brilliance.”

As she busied herself with admiring the loveliness of the flora and the fauna, she missed the ephemeral amusement in Charles’ face. Marianne always had confidence in her own intellect and potential, and it shone through in the simplest of interactions with her. He had married a captivating woman, and even his father had little to no objections about their marriage nine years ago.

Nevertheless, here and now, she was right. As much as he cared about his children’s education and upbringing, there were matters which he placed greater value on. The subject of the Sword of Akasha was one matter.

“I want to halt the progress of finding the lost key.”

The statement was followed by a cautious silence; one Marianne maintained whenever she processed thoughts -- turning ideas over and over again inside her head.

“What brought this on, Charles?”

“We don’t have the resources to spare when Française and the Prussian empire have come together to subdue Britannian influence.”

“So why stop the search for the key and the other artifacts?”]

------

This AU was one of my favorites. For some reason, the plot I constructed just refused to cooperate, and it all devolved into ONE HUGE MESS. Like it always does XD

#code geass #marianne lamperouge #charles zi britannia #fanfiction #alternate universe #lelouch vi britannia #fantasy au #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #wip #i posted it here because i think it's genuinely good #if only the plot worked haha

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

[insomniasix]

Chapter VII: Party of Four (Three) - Part II

Previous

@mzargentum​

 “Let’s do it!”

“Aren’t we eager.” Noctis laughed at his friends words, as well as his cheeks turning a light shade of pink every time Aranea made a step closer to the blond.

“Those guys your friends or something?” Prompto asked, head turning slightly to look at her.

“You appear to be on good terms.” Ignis agreed.

“Who? Biggs and Wedge?” the names caught Six’s attention, eyebrows frowning a little at the sound of them, an old memory making its appearance inside her mind before Aranea continued, “They’re more ‘subordinates’ than they are ‘friends’, but I trust them all the same.”

“Hm?” Noctis noticed his Glaive’s expression, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Six answered, drawn back to the here and now, “I used to know a couple of people by those names.”

“Old friends?”

“Yeah… feels like a lifetime ago.” she smiled before continuing on.

“Man, how far does this go?” Prompto sighed, already tired of going down the stairs.

“Yet a ways still.” Ignis answered, fixing his glasses at the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, finally! Man I thought it’d never end!” the blond was happy to see flat ground once again, “The people here. They must’ve been fit.”

“Keep that in mind for when we get out of here, sunshine.” Six laughed at his exasperated sigh, “We’ll have to go up again to get out.”

“Oh, man… Huh? Er… who left the lights on? Maybe the owners are still home?”

“No?” a shiver run down Noctis’ spine at the idea, the feeling showing in his voice.

“Keep your cool.” Six calmed both of them, “You’ve got this.”

“I doubt we can expect a warm welcome.” Aranea was ready for anything that would jump out of any corner.

“Indeed. Stay sharp.” Ignis agreed.

“You think it’s an ambush?” Prompto’s voice still trembled a little at the thought.

“Perhaps.” the Advisor stated.

“Of course.” Six sighed at the sight of the aforementioned ambush as half a dozen Skeletons appeared around the corned in the room they had just walked in.

With the combined skills of everyone and a couple of high jumped attacks from Aranea, the deamons were dealt with quickly.

“Damn you’re a badass, Aranea.” Prompto complimented, but the commander seemed unimpressed, “Aw, thanks.”

“Oh, man… all of these rooms.”

“Hey, don’t wander off!” Noctis scolded the blond before looking at his Glaive, her eyes already hopping from one opening to the next.

“This way.” Six instructed, moving with confidence through one of the four halls around them.

“This place has seen better days.” Ignis eyed the cracks in the walls and ceiling.

“So basically, it could fall on our head without warning?”

“There will be a warning, sunshine, but you’ll have to stay close to listen to it.”

The next room was something out of a dream. Like an inverted picture, there was water above their heads where the ceiling should be and above that… fish; swimming around like in a pond.

The whole company stopped dead in their tracks to stare up in awe.

“Beautiful beyond words...” Ignis was the first to speak.

“Look up!” Prompto gawked, tagging on Six’s elbow and pointing up with his finger before reaching for his camera, “Wait, what? Does this mean we’re underwater? Whoa. There’s even fish!”

“The hell is this place?” Noctis joined in, lips parted as his eyes wandered.

“Can we truly be submerged?” Ignis looked at his friend for answers but she only winked at him, smile stretching on her lips. She wasn’t going to answer.

“It does seem harder to breathe.” Prompto gasped.

“It’s not, Prom. Don’t loose your head.” The Glaive finally spoke, giggling at his imagination.

“Gladio is seriously missing out.”

“Probably not his thing.”

“Now, now,” Ignis half-scolded the two, “you can never tell.”

As if by the sound of his name, Six felt a burning sensation, sliding across her torso, clutching onto her shirt and trying not to make a sound in order not to worry the others. Aranea was the only one to catch up on it while the others kept talking and moving ahead.

“You alright?” she asked, making her way closer to the Glaive. A hint of worry behind her words.

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s over now.” Six smiled warmly, her mind traveling to Gladio. Could it be he got hurt? It was the same feeling she got when he acquired the scar on his face.

“Above us!” Now was not the time!

After taking care of the deamons falling from above, the company followed Ignis to a narrow ledge, with Six and Noctis going first before it was Prompto’s turn.

“Can I just-”

“It’ll hold you, sunshine.”

“Famous last words.” Ignis teased before leading the blond and moving after him.

“Really?” Six laughed at him, teasing Prompto had become a fun way to calm him for the Advisor.

“Could not help myself.”

Every way they went, every hall they passed and every corned they turned the deamons kept appearing and attacking, making finding their way around the dungeon’s tunnels take longer that they would’ve liked.

“Deamons.” Aranea sighed, “’Till death do us part.”

“Practicing your vows?” Six commented, making the commander huff a laugh, “The army swore their oaths a long time ago.”

“What does the empire seek here?” Ignis joined their conversation.

“Specimens- and we’re stuck harvesting them.”

“Specimens?”

“Deamons.”

“So what’s all this about the army and deamons?” Prompto butted in as well.

“What do you think it is?” Aranea raised her eyebrow at him.

“Nice! I love guessing games.”

“Turns out the empire makes weapons out of them.” she finally gave in.

“Weapons?”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ve seen your share by now. Something not quite right with the empire lately.”

Six immediately thought of the Diamond Weapon back at the outskirts of Insomnia. “It’s not just lately.”

“True. Maybe it’s time I left.” the commander sighed.

“Really? What would you do if you left the army?” Prompto asked with great interest.

“Whatever I want. I was a mercenary once. Maybe I’ll round up my men and hunt deamons for cash?”

“That’s a… heck of a plan.”

“It beats working for the empire, any day.” Six thought out loud, eyes looking forward.

“What about the empire strikes you as ‘not quite right’?” Ignis was the one to lay the question this time.

“The emperor and new high commander, for starters.” Aranea answered simply, “Then there’s that charmer of a Chancellor. I really can’t stand that guy.”

“That makes two of us.” Six laughed.

“Three.” Noctis was heard again after a long while.

“Could’ve fooled me. He seems to be quite… fond of you both.” her words made the Prince and the Glaive exchange a couple of disgusted looks.

“Is it safe?” Prompto scanned the room of bridges, seeing as at least one of them seemed broken.

“Not everything is gonna-” Noctis’ sentence was cut off by his fall. Their weight bringing the bridge he walked on down, along with his Glaive, arms already around him, protecting his head. “Shit!”

“Are you alright?” Ignis yelled down before following. The height wasn’t that high so everyone landed safely.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Noctis looked once at Ignis and twice at Six, sweat covering her eyebrow as the pain in her chest hadn’t calmed yet, “Are you-”

“That way.” the Glaive pointed, not meeting his eyes.

“How can you tell?” Prompto asked, completely unaware of his friend’s realization.

“It’s the only way?” Six laughed, showing him how the rest of the doorways were shut.

The blond rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly before following her.

“Smell that?”

“Smell what?” Noctis answered his friend casually.

“Treasure. The nose knows, dude.”

“Did your nose know about that?” Six warped, attacking the deamons in front of them as the rest followed suit.

The company made their way back to the top, the hall leading to the treasure room quickly blocked by an Iron Giant, driving his gigantic sword down on Noctis before Six covered him, the bridge under them breaking on impact.

“Here comes the big one!” Prompto yelled, making his way down to cover his friends, followed by Ignis and Aranea.

“Right on cue.” the Adviser helped the Glaive up, eyes silently asking if she was alright to move on.

“Saw that one comin’.” she nodded, attacking the Giant alongside Noctis and Aranea while Ignis and Prompto cleared out the minor deamons gathering around, “And it’s got friends!”

Just like with the machine at the Imperial blockade, Six ordered Noctis and Aranea to attack from above, all three attacking at once and bringing the beast down with hits on its shoulders and spine.

“How’s everyone?” Aranea asked as the Giant faded into smoke.

“Good.”

“How about you?” Prompto asked.

“Just chipper.”

“So tired.” Noctis sighed.

“Stomach’s rumbling.” the blond agreed with his friend’s mood.

“Come on.” Six answered, her own tiredness showing in her eyes, “We still got a ways to go.”

“Agh, never too many stairs.” Prompto let his head fall backwards, getting tired just by looking at them, before signing and making his friends chuckle, “Stairs they go on, forever they go on, on and on and on...”

“He’s gone.” Noctis laughed.

“A way across.” Ignis commented once they had finally left the labyrinth behind them. The water above their heads being the only clearing they’d seen in a while.

“Let me guess… we cross.”

“Good idea.”

“I get you’re tired.” Six placed her hand on the blonds shoulder, making him look at her, “But treasure is just up ahead.”

“It is?” his eyes sparkled up a little at the thought, making the Glaive chuckle before pointing at her nose and repeating his own words, “The nose knows, dude.”

“Ooh, spacious.” Prompto commented on the width of the enormous hall in front of them after they made their way out of yet another set of crossroads, “There’s soooo gonna be a big nasty here.”

“There is.” the Glaive’s voice was calm, even though her katana was already summoned and unsheathed.

“How do you-”

“I see it.” she used the edge of her sword to guide everyone's eyes at the Quetzalcoatl. The flying reptile making everyone on its sights and crushing down behind them with a loud roar.

“What’s our plan, Six?” Noctis ordered, weapon at the ready.

“Forget about lightning! Iggy, ice. I need you to-”

“But of course!” Ignis accepted her orders before she even had time to finish them, instructing Prompto to follow him with his gun so they could keep the beast from flying around and avoiding the rest of the party’s attacks.

“Noct, Aranea, with me. We break its wings keep it down.”

“Right.” the two nodded, getting ready to follow the plan.

“Keep moving! Don’t let it target you with its beak and if you feel the hair on your neck stand run away! It will use lightning!”

“Got it!” Noctis yelled before warping first, landing the first blow.

Everyone followed the Glaive’s instructions, Ignis using Blizzara spells to freeze the beast’s wings as Prompto kept shooting it in the face, disorienting it. Aranea made her way to the back, noticing how the monster was slow to react from a hit from behind and Six, with Noctis’ help kept warping around, hitting specific spots on the beasts wings until it couldn’t fly around any more.

Aranea was the one to have the last hit this time. Using her technique. High jumping in the air above it and bringing her lance down with extreme momentum, killing the beast instantly.

“Woohoo! We’re alive!” Prompto jumped, following Ignis to the rest of the company, “Let’s celebrate by eating something dead!”

“Not too shabby.” Aranea congratulated the company for their skills and team work.

“Hey,” Six breathed, energy drained by the overuse of her warping skill, “Check this out.” she got down on one knee to grab it. The Mythril ore shining brightly in her hand as she threw it up and caught it again mid-air, “Got it.”

“That concludes our business here.” Ignis smiled at her tired state, passing her an ether potion, so she could calm down a little faster before they had to make their way back through the ruins.

“Say, commodore...” Six spoke after breaking the vial.

“Aranea.” the commander corrected the Glaive.

“You said the empire uses deamons to make ‘weapons’?”

“Listen- you’ve seen Magitek troopers, right?”

“MTs.” Noctis joined in.

“They’re born from daemons, in a lab.” Aranea explained.

Six’s heart fell to the floor. Eyes darting to the blond in her care. Mind running back to the first time she laid them on him. Running back to the day she and Cor saved him… got him to Insomnia.

Was t-

“Born from deamons...” Prompto cut her thoughts in half as he spoke, repeating Aranea’s sentence.

“Darkness is coming. If I were you, I’d watch my princely ass. Uh… ‘Kingly’ ass.”

“Will do.”

Next

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv game rewrite #game rewrite #final fantasy fanfiction #ffxv oc #oc #six ulric #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #Noctis Lucis Caelum #aranea highwind #chapter vii #part 2 #ffxv x oc

[melwritesbadly]

With Wings in All Black

After a tragic turn of events,  Kazama Kaori , AKA Hex, has her investigation swept out from under her by the #2 Pro Hero. Reluctantly she joins Hawks in the pursuit of justice. On top of trying to solve the biggest case of her career, Kaori is still a young woman struggling to find her place in the world. Life is turned upside down as her professional and personal lives start to blend.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Content Warnings: slight language, implied violence/death

________________________________________________________

Assistance Requested: Information and surveillance details urgently needed regarding reported missing persons. Suspected Vigilante involvement, or other syndicates. Please respond for additional details.

Status of current investigation: Ongoing

__________ 

A Murder of One                        

Hex adjusted the dial on the receiver on her headgear tuning in to the frequency of the microphone planted in the bar below her. She hoped the ungodly amount of paperwork she traded for the device was worth it.  The other detectives at the station simply shrugged at her evidence- or rather, her lack-thereof.

Still it didn’t change the facts.

Fact 1- Low level criminals are disappearing.

Fact 2- People are disappearing

Fact 3- No one cared- but her.

Fact 4- Takei Kenji, one of the missing, had recently been seen in the area and was seemingly ‘not himself’ as described by the anonymous tip that was forwarded to her.

Takei Kenji, age 27. Minor invulnerability quirk. Last known occupation: ‘Nightwatchman’ for a warehouse commonly used for clandestine meetings for the local riff-raff. Reported missing by his mother 3 weeks ago.

After speaking with Mrs. Takei, she pieced together Kenji’s new schedule. After tailing him a few days he truly seemed like a new man, reformed. 

His dress was proper and pristine, clean shaven and hair combed and presentable. It was a stark contrast to the photo used on the missing person flier taped to her pinboard (along with all the other missing persons). With no discernible pattern, at least not to her, about the next victim(?) or the whereabouts of any of the others, Kenji was her best, and only lead.

Tonight, she could expect him to show at one of his usual haunts.  The bar below her. Not to her personal taste, the clientele of the more stabby nature. 

Earlier that week she managed to convince the bartender to spill a few snippets of the conversations between Kenji and the other patrons.

“The Bard this, The Bard that.” griped the bartender as he dumped the trash into the alley dumpster. “It’s pissing off my regulars and they’re pissy enough as it is.” 

He should have been here an hour ago though. Hex sucked on her lower lip, displeased as she scanned the road leading to and from the bar entrance. She’d give it another half hour then try and regroup on his trail in the morning.

“Cheers to another late night.” she muttered to herself listening in to the chatter and ambiance of the dive bar. 

________

Her 30 minutes go by and she huffs before finally switching the receiver off.  She’d go by tomorrow to get the mic back.  Just as she was about to stand from her perch Hex heard the unmistakable beat of wings above her, large ones, judging by the sound. 

It reminded her of her father. Probably one of the last people she wanted to see right now. Especially since her only lead ditched her for the night.

This night sucks.

 Hex thinks to herself, finally looking up intending to see the dark wings of King Crow finally come to drag her home but instead, she sees red.

This has to be the reason Kenji never showed. The thought bounces around her head angrily as none other than the number 2 Hero in Japan descended from the nightly heavens and landed on her rooftop.

This night really sucks.

“Yo!” Hawks held up a hand in greeting neatly folding his very noticeable wings against his back, shoving the other hand into his pocket.

“Will you get down!” Hex harshly whispers, gesturing him to stoop down and out of sight.

“Jeesh, hi, hello how are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking.” he jokes casually but still squats down feet planted on the ground resting his arms on his knees. Hex shakes her head and resumes her post looking up and down the street despite her previous resignation.

“You’re Hex right?” he starts “I’m-” She cuts him off not taking her eyes off the street.

“Obviously I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. Especially every lowlife in the area who’ve probably fled after seeing your chicken legs flailing in the wind.”

“Ooo, ah, that’s my physical appearance. That hurts you know.” Feigning  being wounded, Hawks placed a hand over his heart but still kept the jovial tone. A smart smirk inching up his cheek continuing. 

“But you’re not after ‘every lowlife’, though right? Just the one. Takei Kenji?'' 

She turned to him and tilted her head, large round eyes finally meeting his sharper, more angled ones. 

“How did you...?” she trailed off, honestly surprised. It wasn’t common knowledge on how her ‘investigation’ was going. Uncommon because, well quite frankly… no one cared. Especially other Heroes. 

“Sorry Chickadee but I got some bad news.” Hawks stood back up and crossed his arms leaning against a nearby cooling unit.

Hex rolled her eyes

“Don’t call me that. What happened?” She looked up at him.

“Well, one of my guys found your guy in… not great shape.” 

Hex cursed running a hand through the back of her head, then sighed.

“How bad?” prepping for his answer.

“Morgue bad”

“Dammit!” cursing again, pinching her brow reeling from the implications.

“Your buddies at the station said you'd might want to know as a professional courtesy” brow pinched once more, Hex felt the annoying start of a headache between them.

“Courtesy? For what...” a thought flashing through her mind and she stood eyes going wide “Don’t you dare close my case!” jabbing a finger in his direction.

 He turned his head to face her more, still calm, still leaning, still observing.

“Close it? Oh no, wouldn’t think of it Chickadee. I’m taking over the investigation.”

Hex gaped. Momentarily at a loss for words. The frustrations starting to come to a point at the back of her neck, feeling an uncomfortable bristle forming.

“What no, you can’t! Do you know how much work” gesturing wildly with her hands “How much time! The favors I had to do, the resources I scrounged for-”

“Which are no longer a problem.” He blocked one ear with a finger and shot her what would have been an award winning smile “No need to shout Hex. Obviously I want to keep you,”  He paused, throwing a wink her way  “Keep you on the investigation that is.”

Hex scoffed,her head bobbing back as she shot him an incredulous look.

“I don’t do agencies, and I’m no one's sidekick.” she threw another annoyed jab of her finger in his direction.

“Ooo touchy. Freelance then. Sound good Chickadee?” Hawks held up his hand to maybe physically shield him from her ire.

“Stop calling me that and maybe I’ll let you help”

He smiled-no smirked again pushing off of the cooling unit he was leaning on stepping towards her shrugging his shoulders.

“That doesn't sound like a mutually beneficial arrangement to me.” Hex rolled her eyes and crossed her arms haughtily with a huff.

“And how does calling me stereotyped nickname benefit you, birdbrain.” 

Hawks chuckled. He didn’t expect it to be so easy to ruffle her feathers.

This was going to be fun.

“Isn’t that how these buddy cop movies play out? One hard-ass with a secret heart of gold and their handsome, comic relief partner put aside their differences to crack the case and learn the meaning of cooperation and friendship. Roll credits”

Hex tilted her head and shot him an unamused expression, opening her mouth to speak.

“I am not a hardass-” she stopped herself holding her palm up to stop the little banter she was getting pulled into. “Can you circle back, Takei Kenji?”

“Can we circle back to this team up? After all this is my case now?” 

Hex scrunched up her nose, not pouting, she told herself, and re-crossed her arms.

“Sounds like something a hardass would say.” she snarked and he grinned again, throwing his arms up bringing them down behind his head.

“You caught me. Hawks, the hardass with a heart of gold. Guess that makes you my handsome, no wait, beautiful partner then. So how's about it Chickadee?”

“Uhg” Hex clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes again. Squaring her shoulders she placed her hands on her hips

“I want a contract. Full access and authority over any and all future developments and details about my case.” Hawks nodded but shot her a finger gun.

“Our case.”

“Whatever!” she sighed looking up at the night sky hands still on her hips. 

“The agency manager can draft up whatever you’d like tomorrow. Let’s go see what Kenji had in his pockets shall we?”

Hex nodded reaching up to her headgear. She flicked the visor portion that was pushing her hair back over her eyes. The experimental mirrored tint softening the city night lights. She switched the setting on her earpiece making sure the seal around the was snug. Hawks floated a foot above the ground looking a little bored as he waited.

 Show off

Hex activated her own quirk, the bundle of jet black feathers at the base of her hair sending a shiver down her spine causing other inky feathers to erupt from her skin. The ebony plumes forming patterned rows along her arms covering them completely. 

Letting them creep upwards to the sides of her neck but stopped them before then could go any further on her body. Just enough for her to achieve flight. She did a small jump maintaining the upward moment with a strong flap of her feather covered arms and started for the station.

Harpy Hero: Hex

Quirk: Harpy- Half human, half bird! She’s able to do most things a bird can do and then some! Most notably, she can grow enough feathers to achieve flight.

______

There is no traffic in the sky and the previously chatty #2 Hero was silent during their flight. Hex was thankful, it gave her some time, however brief, to think.

This new development was...tragic. Someone would have to tell Mrs.Takei in the morning.

It should be me...

It’s just, Kenji was small time.  So why would he turn up dead?

And more importantly...

Hex cast a look in her periphery at the Fierce Wing Hero.

How did this fall into the lap of the number 2 Hero?

______

Hawks landed first. Not bothering to tame his windswept hair but did look up to observe Hex’s descent. She wasn’t quite as fast as him, well, then again, no one was. But she was graceful and skilled as she navigated the air currents. 

Fanning her wings wide Hex slowed her movements getting ready to land. A few more well practiced flutters and she also touched back down. Before she can remove her headgear she dispels her feathers. Casting them off with a quick flick of her arms. She hardened them into slivers then ground them to sand with another flick to minimize the mess and general rudeness of not picking up after your quirk.

She adjusted her headgear and hair and blatantly ignored the cheeky claps and nods of approval from the man besides her. She strode past him and up into the station. The night reception paid her no mind but did double take when they saw Hawks’s crimson wings engulfing their foyer.

Just outside the morgue waited a man with an impressive and well manicured mustache. He wore a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders and the first few buttons open.

“This her boss?” he asked in an accent indicating that he was from Australia. 

“Hex,” she offered “And you are?”

“Duke Amazing. Pleasure.” he greeted offering his hand. She was not expecting such a strong handshake.

“Given the circumstances…” she trailed off.  “You found Takei?”

“Well, what’s left that is…” Duke gestured to the door he was waiting in front of  “They’ve finished up for now. Just waiting on the bossman for the paperwork and whatnot.” He made another gesture in the direction of a door a little ways down the corridor.

“They’ve got his belongings in there”

“Perfect, cross the t’s and dot the i’s for me Duke?” before his sidekick could answer Hawks was already starting down the corridor. Hex followed close behind. 

Duke shook his head crossing his arms.

“June’s gunna pitch a fit again Hawks”

“Op, can’t hear you, the doors closing!” gently shoving Hex in the room and hastily closed the door behind them.

“Uhg paperwork” He bemoaned and leaned against the door

“Paperwork” Hex commiserated but was already looking over the items laid out on the small table.

There wasn’t much but everything was bagged, labeled and detailed on a piece of paper next to the items.

There was a small wallet, no money, a personal ID card. An older model cell phone, unusable. Most likely damaged in whatever altercation Kenji found himself in.

“Probably a burner” Hawks shrugged “Still, I'll get someone to pull the numbers.”  He made no move to examine the items himself but instead watched Hex very carefully as she examined each one. 

She cupped her chin as she looked at the final piece of evidence, brow furrowed.

“I’ve seen this before...” she commented, turning over the small business card over front to back several times examining it. 

While it was the same shape and card stock as a business card it held no information. No address, phone number, or even a business name. All that was printed was an indigo triangle.

“What is it?” He was curious because he had no idea what the shape meant either.

“I…” she started, brows still furrowed. “I have no idea, but I know I've seen this...” 

She placed the bagged card back on the table and leaned over it rubbing her hand to the back of her neck smoothing down her feathers there. The memory of where she’d seen this particular shape eluding her.

“Maybe at his apartment?” she muttered to herself, then sighed

“I’ll have to go back over my notes.” Hex leaned up from the table and unzipped her jacket pulling out her phone and snapped a quick picture on the item.

“How about we meet back up tomorrow then. Let me give you my number.” Hawks held out his palm asking for her phone. She was just about to hand it over but thought better and pulled it back causing him to catch air.

“No social calls, no memes at 3 in the morning, no unsolicited pictures.” her tone stern

“What if they’re tasteful?” he made a grabby motion with his hands and gave his brows a waggle.

“They’re never tasteful.” she quipped back but finally relented and handed over her phone.

Hawks flipped it over in his hands and quickly typed in his information jokingly setting the name for his number “Unsolicited dick pics” with an appropriate emoji next to it. He sent himself a quick text with her phone then clicked hers off and handed it back to her.

He was extremely pleased when she didn’t double check his contact info and simply zipped the phone back into her pocket. His little joke would be a fun surprise for the morning then.

“Send me where you want to meet tomorrow” She pressed her fingers to the back of her neck again “I’m heading out. Looong night” 

Hawks moved away from the door and let her pass, parting for the night.

“Well that led to a whole lotta nothing” He mused to himself finally taking his turn to look over the offending card stock.

“It’s never an easy mess to clean up is it?” He tossed the card back on the table.

_________________________________

#wwiab #hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks x oc #keigo takami #takami keigo #original character #hawks bnha #hawks mha #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia #hawks x reader

[exkernal]

Philosophy Class for Rock Bottom Demons: 1/3

A/N: I don’t know why I’m finally getting around to posting this old fic now, but I’m in a hellstrop mood

As Michael watches the humans snipe and scurry about (he doesn't care what Eleanor says, that cockroach analogy was on point) he thinks, this is rock bottom. A demon begging his torturees for help; that's as low as it gets.

Then Eleanor tells him he has to take philosophy class.

Does she forget whom she's dealing with? He's not some zit-speckled check out boy who will "remember" that he already scanned her margarita mix if she yells enough. Despite his appearance of bespectacled innocence, at his core he is pure immortal evil that has been torturing humans since before her grandmother's grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was even conceived, thank you. Does Eleanor know how much force is needed to pry the nail from a grown man's big toe? Does she know the sound a human makes when tossed into a giant juicer? No--but Michael does, and she'd best not forget it.

Except maybe he's the one who's forgotten whom he's dealing with, as Eleanor throws his words back in his face until he's well and truly cornered.

So now he's taking philosophy class.

Now this, this is rock bottom, Michael thinks, as Chidi, in all of his sweater-vested glory, hands out their neatly printed syllabi.

"Right. Now that we all have our syllabi--"

"Oh, dip," Jason says, his eyes impossibly wide. "Are you sure that's safe?"

Chidi blinks. His forehead scrunches up in that way it does.

"Pardon?"

"I mean aren't those those weird monster thingies that make you like mad horny?"

Michael catches Eleanor's eye, and they quickly look away.

"I--you're--no. Jason, you're thinking of a succubi. These are syllabuses." Chidi winces, as if the improper grammar physically pains him.

It doesn't clear things up.

"Chidi, man, if you need to see a doctor I know this dope one in Jacksonville. She accepts food stamps as payment and doesn't ask questions if you come in with jellyfish stings around your ding dong--"

"Jason, you're thinking of--you know what, never mind."

Then again, maybe it won't be so bad if he gets a front row seat to Chidi being tortured by his students.

                                                                                               * * * * *

The syllabus is garbage. Human philosophy is garbage. Every higher being knows that, even the stuck up angels farting around in the real Good Place.

(Not that Michael's actually met an angel before, but still).

He'll just have to fake it. Put on his best face, lure the humans into trusting him.

It'll be easy.

                                                                                                * * * * *

This is rock bottom, the knowledge of existence's fleeting nature. Of the expanding, gaping maw of the abyss that will devour them all as easily as dog-spiders devour human eyeballs. How can anyone expect him to go on like this, knowing the fate that almost certainly awaits him (because let's be real, Shawn will find out eventually)? Why was he even created all of those eons ago if this is his ultimate fate? How can existence even continue without Michael, who's always existed before? How can--?

It's okay. Eleanor's showed him. If he can just push those feelings down, and keep pushing and pushing and--

Eleanor's towering above him. Huh. Usually she's not because she's so ridiculously tiny. He remembers the reboots where she got so angry she physically attacked him--it was hilarious, like a chihuahua barking at a grizzly bear. Her eyes are more blue than green tonight, maybe because of her dress.

"All humans are aware of death," she says,"so we're all a little bit sad, all the time. That's just the deal."

"Sounds like a crappy deal," he mutters.

"Well, yeah, it is," she says, sitting down, "but we don't get offered any other ones."

Eleanor's gaze is absent of any judgement or mockery or disdain. He can't recognize what he sees, because no one's ever looked at him that way before, not humans or demons or Janets. It's not sad but not happy either; it's more like she somehow knows what he's feeling even if he doesn't say it, and that's okay. Her eyes tell him that it's okay.

It doesn't make it better, exactly, but maybe it's not rock bottom either.

                                                                                                 * * * * *

"It's so forking stupid! 'How can you tell if an action is good or bad blah blah blah?' Because of the points, dummy! The points tell you if it's good or bad, Professor Know It All."

"I feel you, bud," Eleanor says, lounging with her feet on the coffee table, a notebook propped up against her legs. "But--and don't rip my head off or whatever you guys do--"

"It's rip your head off," Michael says.

"Right. I'm just saying, maybe things would go a little better if you didn't rip the pages out of every book Chidi gives you."

She might have a point there.

                                                                                               * * * * *

"In this experiment, people continued 'shocking' patients even after they heard them beg and scream. The influence of authority was too strong, and overrode their moral instincts. So the question this possess is how do we stick to our morals in the face of conflicting authority? Yes, Michael?"

"I don't understand the problem. When your superiors tell you to up the voltage, it's a good thing. Why wouldn't I want to use the shocks--why are you all looking at me like that?"

All four humans stare at him like his human disguise just slipped.

Chidi squints. He rubs his hand against his forehead. Michael can see the sweat beading on his face.

"Michael, you're still thinking like a demon. From a human perspective, we don't want to torture people. I think you need another ten lines."

Michael sighs, but he doesn't question it.

"People good," he mumbles, as the chalk screeches against the board.

"Keep it up, bud," Chidi encourages. "You'll get there eventually."

                                                                                             * * * * *

"Why did you give me Les Miserables? That thing's almost as long as your stupid thesis!"

Chidi frowns. "Thank you, once again, for casually insulting my life's work."

"Come on, man, you gave Jason Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret."

"Did you seriously just compare your intellectual abilities to those of Jason Mendoza?"

"...fair point."

                                                                                           * * * * *

What was Chidi's problem?

Michael searches for Eleanor's eyes. She's good at explaining things; out of all of the humans, she makes the most sense. But Eleanor won't look at him. She actually looks away from him, following wordlessly after Chidi.

Michael doesn't understand.

                                                                                           * * * * *

"I can't high five that!" Eleanor shouts. "No matter how much I want to."

Michael turns away, laughing. She seems like she's mad at him too, but then he gets her laughing with the reddit story. Things can't be that bad if he can still make her laugh.

It doesn't last for long.

Eleanor tells him that this is entirely up to him to fix, then leaves, before he can think of a retort. He's left alone to wonder how the here he can worm his way back into Chidi's good graces.

Wait, what? Why does he even want to make it up to Chidi? He should be thrilled; he didn't want to attend those stupid, worthless, stupid, boring, stupid classes to begin with! Now he can have his proverbial cake (teaming up with the humans) and eat it too (no dumb classes). This is perfect.

Now he has more time to write fake torture reports instead of reading up on those old farts. Or complaining about reading with Eleanor and Jason and sometimes Tahani. Or seeing Tahani's shocked delight whenever he shares some surprising tidbits about her celebrity pals. Or trying not to laugh at the expression on Chidi's face during yet another of Jason's long winded anecdotes. Or sitting besides Eleanor, occasionally cheating off of her, each doing their best to make the other laugh. Now he doesn't have to waste any more time with any of that nonsense.

It's perfect.

                                                                                           * * * * *

There's something wrong with his chest as he watches Tahani clutch her diamond and Eleanor gush over her shrimp dispensary. It's warm, not warm like whenever he got too close to the fire pits, but softer, and not exactly unpleasant. He still doesn't get Chidi's deal, not entirely, but he's back on Team Cockroach, so everything's fine.

                                                                                           * * * * *

He's on his best behavior for his first day back to philosophy class. He doesn't rip the pages out of his book, doesn't talk about torture or mention humans' stupid anatomy. He doesn't even laugh at Eleanor and Jason's many jokes about happiness pumps, though that's partly because he doesn't get most of them.

                                                                                          * * * * *

Chidi passes back last week's philosophy papers. "Everyone's made great progress since we've started. You should be proud."

Eleanor leans over to Michael. "What did you get, bud?"

He shows her.

"Dang, A. Good for you, Michael."

"Well, I am a superior being," he says, rubbing his leg and smiling like a dope.

"Hey, we should celebrate. Do demons celebrate? Or is that just torture for you guys?"

It's just torture. He knew better than to ask Eleanor if he can have a go at one of them (like forcing Jason to listen to a blow-by-blow recap of every Jaguars defeat). Besides, he doesn't really want to, anyway.

Huh. Imagine that.

Instead he says, "In some of the other reboots, you would try to distract me from investigating the neighborhood anamolies by doing fun human stuff. We played aracade games, sang karaoke, went bowling--"

Suddenly, Jason jumps into the conversation. "Laser tag! Did you play laser tag?"

Michael thinks. "No, we never got around to that."

"Yo, homies, we have to play laser tag. I am a beast at laser tag. Me and Pillboi would do a bunch of shrooms and then go crazy all over the place. Also, I think I shot a mall cop once. Or maybe that was a dream."

Eleanor nods. "Laser tag could be fun. Don't know about the shrooms part."

She eyes Chidi, silently asking him.

"Definitely not," he says.

Twenty minutes later, thanks to Janet, Michael finds himself wearing purple plastic strapped over his chest and carrying a fake gun, surrounded by enough multi-colored smoke to fork up the humans' vision but not his. Without ever explicitly agreeing to anything, he and Eleanor have formed an alliance. He saves her from Jason's sneak attack, and together they shoot him in the chest twenty times.

"Yes!" Micheal shouts.

"Eat that!" Eleanor screams.

"Aw, man," Jason says, with the same dejected look as when he popped Pikachu.

He and Eleanor high five.

Then his chest lights up.

"Ooh," Tahani says, smiling like she can't believe her luck. Michael can't either. "I'm starting to get the hang of this!"

She notices the murderous glint in Eleanor's eyes, and bolts into the smoke.

"Don't worry, I'll avenge you," Eleanor tells him, then she shouts after Tahani, "You're going to die, you sexy skyscraper!"

That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him.

                                                                                    * * * * *

So he can't marbalize Janet. And also may have teared up in front of her, despite no known demon ever crying before. So what?

                                                                                    * * * * *

Eleanor Shellstrop is an enigma. Nothing about her behavior on Earth indicates she should be able--or willing--to sincerely change, and yet she has. She has a limited human brain yet she keeps outwitting him. No one can rile him up like her, yet no one understands him quite like her, either.

Also, he made him a paperclip bracelet that one time.

That's why he visits her instead of Chidi when he's feeling frustrated with ethics. Because even if she is a human, she understands him more than his own kind ever did.

They sit across from eachother. In the artifical light, he can't tell if her eyes are more blue or green.

They talk a while, and in the end, she tells him that she believes in him. That she believes it will all work out. He doesn't fully understand why, but the words stay with him long after he leaves, keeping a smile on his face that he can't wipe away even if he tries. He's still smiling when he walks into his office and sees Shawn at his desk.

                                                                                   * * * * *

Shawn tells him it's everything he ever wanted, and he can't disagree. Because it is. As an apprentice, toiling away on others' designs, he dreamed of the moment that his own work would be recognized. Micheal the Architect, senior staff member, exhalted in the Bad Place.

It would be so easy to snatch the pin, place it on his lapel, and pretend that the last few months never happened.

He's not sure what will happen to Janet, though. It's not like they can realistically sneak her back to the warehouse. Maybe they'll reboot her, and reuse her for a replica neighborhood. As for the humans, he knows exactly what will happen to them; they'll be tortured forever. He tries to imagine it. For some reason, he keeps going back to the moment that Trevor threw his arm around Eleanor, prepared to take her to the "Bad Place," and the way she looked, resigned and disgusted all at once.

He remembers stretching his hand out to her, and her accepting. He remembers leading her back to the fake Good Place.

It turns out he's already made his choice.

He doesn't even regret it.

                                                                                    * * * * *

He collapses into Eleanor's arms like a puppet whose strings were cut, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I was so worried for you! You're my friends and I wanted to save you!"

Eleanor whispers that it's okay. He wishes he could believe her, he really does, but he can't escape the fact that they're completely and utterly forked. The humans still think he can get them to the real Good Place, but he knows that they don't have a chance. They're at the end of the road. They've seemingly run out of options.

But maybe he can figure it out, if he stalls long enough. He's done it before when he thought he hit rock bottom, and he can do it again. He always figures something out.

                                                                                    * * * * *

He doesn't figure it out.

                                                                                    * * * * *

The Shellstrops are right about one thing: drinking really does help.

He tells stories about past reboots that get everyone laughing. Someone (Eleanor or Jason, he can't remember which) suggest Never Have I Ever. Michael figures out the trick after two turns, getting everyone, even Janet, out with gems like "never have I ever been rebooted," "never have I ever smashed food holes," "never have I ever had a beating heart," and "never have I ever been to Earth." By the time they try to gang up on him ("never have I ever tortured humans," "never have I ever worn a fake human suit," and Jason's "never have I ever worn a bowtie", which gets both Chidi and Tahani fuming  because Micheal and weird turtle dealers aren' t the only one's who wear bowties, Jason) it's already too late.

"That's not, that's not even fair," Tahani says, swaying sligtly. "How do we even know--can you even get drunk?"

"I can," Michael says with dignity. "It just takes longer."

"Prove it!" Eleanor starts up the drunken chant, getting the others to all chime in. "Prove it! Prove it!"

So Michael downs an entire bottle of whiskey in one go.

In retrospect, that might not have been his smartest decision.

                                                                                   * * * * *

In the end, Eleanor's the one to come of with the crazy, bound to fail plan. The humans slowly trickle back to their beds, since humans need to be well rested before facing off against impossible odds, until it's just him and Eleanor left sprawled on the blanket, their legs stretching out before them. Eleanor rests against his side. Tonight, in the Michael-made starlight, her eyes look more green than blue. There's a pleasant buzz in Micheal's brain, leaving him light and (despite everything) happy.

"Micheal," Eleanor says suddenly. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"Not particularly," he says. "Why?"

"You said that me and Chidi were 'in love,'" she starts to use air quotes but gives up halfway. "But now we're not. Or he doesn't feel that way, or can't decide what way he feels, I don't even know. I don't know if it's me--if there's just something unloveable about me."

Something about that statement hurts Micheal, but he's not sure why. He's no good with feelings talk--he only just learned what 'guilt' means. But Eleanor was there for him when he needed it (a smile across a table, a hand patting his back) so he gives it his best shot.

"Chidi's just Chidi," he says. "He's trapped in his own Chidi world, which, just between us, is what made torturing him so fun. There's nothing wrong with you. Whatever Chidi's dealing with, it's not beccause you're 'unloveable' or whatever."

They're quiet for a moment.

"Hey, Micheal? Do you really think kissing is that gross?"

His face twists in disgust. "Yes. But to be fair, I think a lot of human bodily functions are disgusting."

"Cuz we're like cockroaches," Eleanor nods sagely.

That's not...entirely right, but he can't figure out why.

"Sooooo," she says. He knows that look in her eyes. "Does that mean you wouldn't ever try kissing? Just to say you tried it?"

He barks out a laugh. "When would I ever get the chance to try it?"

"Well, we could. Right now. If you want."

Michael feels too warm again. He's having trouble meeting those more-green-than-blue eyes. He's suddenly aware of how close they are, pressed together like this.

"Why--would you--you, you actually want to?"

"Sure."

He's always trusted Eleanor before when it came to human things. And he can't lie to himself: he does like the feel of her in his arms, pressed so closely that he can feel her heart beat, away from everyone else. He doesn't want it to end.

"Okay," he says softly.

It's a little awkward at first, because Micheal doesn't know what to do while Eleanor shuffles around, positioning herself in front of him. She closes her eyes, so he does too. Her hands are on his back and her lips press against his. It's...nice. Her lips are soft and warm and not as gross as he expected.

She pulls away too soon. She leans forward, like she wants to sit on his lap, but loses her balance. He catches her before she faceplants the grass.

" 'm okay," she says.

A voice in his head, which sounds suspiciously like Professor Buzzkill, tells him she's not.

"Okay, it's time for bed," he says. "Sleep it off."

She lets out a disappointed whine, but she doesn't fight him. He pulls her to her feet and walks her back to the clown house. Just as they reach the door ("Ya know," Eleanor slurrs, "tonight I'm not even gonna mind the creepy clowns watching me sleep."), a terrible thought occurs to him.

"Eleanor? Was I a rebound?"

"What? Pff, no. You're not a rebound. You're...you're Micheal."

He pretends that he knows what she means.

                                                                                       * * * * *

Why didn't he grab another pin? Stupid, stupid. Eleanor watches him fumble through the jackets, trying not to freak out, but he can feel the tension radiating off of her from the seventh dimension.

It's too late. Shawn's on the balcony. He has two options. He could go through the portal after the others, leaving Eleanor behind to be torture. Forever. Or he could give her his pin, be retired for sure, while Eleanor has only a slim chance of winning her case.

Once, there wouldn't have even been a choice. He doesn't want to be retired. He remembers his existential panic when Chidi explained death to him. He thought it was the worst possible fate.

Now, peering into Eleanor's panicked face, he can think of another.

She doesn't understand as he explains the trolley problem, not until he removes his senior staff pin and pins it on her dress.

"No," she says.

"Take care of the others," he says. He is sad that he won't get to see them all on the other side, but he knows that they're all in good hands if Eleanor's there to guide them.

"Goodbye, Eleanor," he says, pushing her through the portal. He's tempted to kiss her before she goes, because that warm feeling is building up in his chest and it needs an outlet,  but there's no time. He hopes she understands all of the things he doesn't say, because he sure as hell doesn't.

She vanishes. She's safe now, he thinks as he waits for Shawn to reach him. He knows that he's facing rock bottom--in all of eternity, only eleven demons have been retired--but he can't find it in himself to care.

#the good place #hellstrop #michael x eleanor #eleanor shellstrop #michael (tgp) #fanfic

[blizzardfluffykpop]

The Bet

Summary: Kiss me under the mistletoe let’s get that dough.

Oneshot

Mark Tuan X Reader

Not Requested

Prompt: 1. “I bet you can’t make that girl/guy, kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night”

Christmas seemed to get more and more boring with each year but when you had friends like I do and clubs that stayed open on that day, it seemed to not matter anymore. I get dressed up, looking nice, to have a few of my friends pick up. We danced for a while, before going up into the VIP booths, and talked about things, everyone but me and the designated driver drinking. Margret fully drunk at this point, not one with a very high alcohol tolerance, but drinks more than all of us do bets me:  “I bet you can’t make that guy, kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night” While pointing at the guy, she was talking about, I glare and say, “How much you bet?” “I’ll bet you a hundred” We shake on it and we put it on a napkin so she can’t bail. 

The joke was on her, I’ve known this guy for a long time. We were childhood friends and looking at him now, he looked stunning in that suit. Dancing the night away, when I come over to him and exclaim, “Hey Mark! How has life been?” “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” “There’s a lot you don’t expect from me isn’t there~,” I say in a teasing tone, and I continue, “Let me get to the point, you see my friends up there made a bet that I couldn’t kiss you under the mistletoe before the end of the night… And they bet a hundred on it, and I’ll split it half and half with you-” He shrugs his shoulders and tells me, “Well, what are you waiting for?” “Well, can I try to court you?” “Try? I think you already have over the years” That leaves me in shock, “You mean to tell me you liked me after all these years-” He shrugs again, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Does this come as such a shock?” Shaking my head rapidly, “I had the biggest crush on you throughout high school, and you didn’t even think to look at me twice, back then” He sighs looking down at his feet before looking back up at me intently, “Well, I was kind of busy making out with Jinyoung to get over you, or at least make you jealous, and try to rile you up so you asked me out… Neither worked” Groaning, “Fuck I wish I knew that sooner, I would have asked you out way sooner.” “Well, what do you say, you take me out on a date after we kiss under the mistletoe, and get that dough?” 

We move over to a branch of mistletoe, and Mark takes the lead, dipping me and kissing me on the lips. Making out for a while, we start slow dancing, I giggle with him. As we twirl around for a bit before, I say I'm going to go get the money, I kiss his cheek and leave; "I can't believe you did it" as they hand me the hundred. I smirk, "Next time, don't pick someone I know" my friend gaps at me like a fish out of water. I sprint down and over to Mark and we go out for the first time, as lovers. 

You see I've loved this man since we were in high school, we lived across the street from each other, our parents always saying how cute we would be together. Once, we became close, they had thought anytime now one of them was going to fall for each other. And this whole time he liked me back, and I simply can't stop thinking about that. The moment I realized how I felt was when I had gotten into a wreck. I called him and he was down there in minutes consoling me, and I notice how much he cared for me. Considering I was on the opposite side of town, and it should have taken thirty minutes to reach me from his house. He only took five minutes, which he claims was because all the lights were green. Considering it is mostly stop signs, and 25 miles per hour through the streets. I don't think he stopped at any, by the time he was there and holding a shaking crying me. To find out he loved me all that time, makes sense because what sane person would disobey every traffic law if it wasn't because of someone they loved. 

Turns out almost everything is closed on Christmas we were about to just go to one of our houses and make dinner when we see a little restaurant opened. The neon letters, barely noticeable, they were probably haven’t worked on since they were first opened. We rush over, and he opens the door for me, "My love" I roll my eyes, winking at him as I walk through the door. The black and white tiles and the cat clock giving the vibe of the 50s, everywhere you looked was a new decade. The jukebox playing 60s music, the chairs look to be from the 90s. But it all felt so right, and so homey, in a weird way. We sit in booths that seemed to come right out of the movie Grease. An older lady comes out on roller blades, gives a menu and rolls away. I look at Mark, this place is so weird but yet so cozy. As the lady comes back, "Sorry I had to deal with an old friend. What would you two cuties like?" We blush before I could answer Mark says, "A monster chocolate milkshake, two straws please" She smiles at us, "Anything else honeys? Or would you like more time?" I politely ask for more time, and she smiles and rolls away. 

After we order, I casual place my hand on his, he grins at me before intertwining them. "I can't believe we waited this long" He smiles, "Yeah me neither, it seems like yesterday I was fantasizing that you were taking me to prom instead of Jinyoung. Yeah, he was a prince, but he wasn't you." He tells me softly, "I wish I had known Mark, I would have danced with you all night long that night instead of him." He kisses my hand, and I continue to speak, "I'd say we both waited too long, but why talk like that. Because you're going to be stuck with me even longer." He laughs and I slightly chuckle, and we both take a sip from our chocolate milkshake. The little old lady comes out with our food, and she asks, "If you don't mind how long have you two been together?" I look at him before I answer, "Well, officially it's our first date. But I've been in love with him for a long time" he squeezes my hand, "I've loved them longer-" "Nuh-uh" "Yeah-huh" she chuckles, "I hope this is the first date of many! You seem to both be a perfect match for each other, my mother used to tell me when two people are meant to be you can see a heart shape form around them, and I certainly see that with you two. This is a strong bond, yeah you may lose faith in each other, but it's a choice to find that faith again. And I believe you two can do it." And with that, she's gone, again. It seems she likes that gone with the wind idea. 

Our hands intertwine while we eat, not much conversation, my thoughts clouded up in her words. Love is a choice, not a feeling, you have to choose to look in their eyes and find the stars not just wait for them to appear. I have faith we can do it too if we waited this long we can hold up with each other. It's only been a few hours with him as an official couple… but it feels as though we've been together forever. Looking in his eyes I see the stars, and I hope he sees the same in mine. 

Little did I know is that he sees the whole universe and then some in my eyes. We start talking about meaningless things, "Do you wanna spend the rest of the night at your house or mine?" "I don't think you want to see my roommates mess, because I have to tell him three weeks in advance because he's a messy individual…" "It’s your dog isn't it?" He laughs and nods, "Yeah, that lazy bum never cleans." "I think the owner might be the lazy one" He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, but you still love me right?" I laugh, "Sadly" he kisses my hand again. 

She comes out with two big slices of chocolate cake, "It's on the house, you two remind me of my wife and me in the old days. Here's your check, and meet me at the counter when you're done" We thank her, digging in, "Man she's so nice, can we come here again?" I ask, "Anytime babe." I grin as I finish, rushing to pay, because I know he'd tried to pay for us like he used to every time we went to the café to study and we got treats. Its payback time. He grumbles at me, "You took my turn" "I've never gotten a turn, it's only fair" He pouts, as she gives us our change. "You kids are too cute, I hope I see you two soon again!" We tell her we will, thanking her again and walking out with big smiles on our faces. He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers, "So how is the pizza job going" "Strong, I'm the manager there… and I'm planning to save up enough money to buy the shop across the road to make that flower shop I used to always talk about." "Really? Wait is it the building right there?" I nod with a smile on my face, "Oh I was planning on making that a mechanic shop" I stop turning to look at him, "Well how about a flower shop in the front and a mechanic shop in the back? We'd make a fortune… with people usually needing to get their car fixed up, sees flowers that would make their significant other feel loved… they buy it while they get their car fixed. They fix up both their love lives at the same time. Their baby, the car is all fixed, and their romantic relationship or platonic relationship is fixed too." He kisses my forehead, "I knew there was a reason I fell for you… you always have the greatest ideas"

--

Needless to say, we bought the shop together, I quit my job at the pizza place becoming full time at my flower shop. Teaching Mark about the types of flowers and meanings, as he teaches me how to rebuild a motor which consists of the engine and transmission. 

We live above the shop now, him coming home with grease on his face, and his coveralls dingy, throwing them into the laundry. His white shirt and blue jeans still are the death of me after all these years. Or if I come in later after consulting a client on which flowers would better suit their needs. Which meanings are what, those orange lilies are not so nice especially if you want to live with them for the rest of your life. With dirt splashing the sides of my face, and soil caked under my nails. Even after the long days, we still find ourselves collapsing on the bed to talk, and hold. One of us being shooed off to take a shower, because the other one just got clean and doesn't want soil/grease all over them. 

It's been a while since then and every month we go to the restaurant, called Loving, it was named after her wife, whose last name she took. It's our 3rd anniversary we go there when she smiles at me and winks. I cock my eyebrow up at her, she became our grandmother, so if we ever need advice we come to her. So it's no surprise she would know something before me. 

We sit down eating a special that Bibi cooked up for us, certainly not on the house anymore. But a bit cheaper, since we're veteran customers to this place. I get up and flipping through the songs to find Marvin Gaye's song How Sweet it is to be Loved by You I turn it on and twirl and start walking to our booth to see Mark on one knee, "Did you lose a pen baby?" I ask rushing over, going to help find whatever he lost. When I look down as he shakes his head, "No,... but (Y/n) would you do me the favor, after all these years, be mine…" Before I can answer, he goes on, "I thought long and hard on how to do this, we had talked about getting married before, but I had no idea how to propose to you. So after long talks with Bibi, I decided to do it here. Where our first date took place, where we made it official, where I decided that from then on out that I was going to be there for you 110%. That every day from then on I looked at the lover of my dreams. The one who I knew deep down inside I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but it was finally becoming true. That when Bibi told us that we were meant to be my heart soared and still hasn't come back down from that high… that I want to make it official with you, I hope it isn't too soon. And if you need more time-" "Mark please stop right there, I've talked to you about marrying you a lot, because I have wanted to spend the rest of my life with you for a long time, and you're truly the man of my dreams. Nothing you can do that can change that. Now the only thing I can see that you lost is your ability to marry anyone else." He slides the ring on to my finger, "That's not a loss for me…" He pulls me in and kisses me deeply just like he did that night at the bar. Bibi comes over, "You're grossing out all my customers-" "There's no one here but us-" "Well, you mushy gushy kids, are grossing me out. I better be the maid of honor. Or so help me, Mark." We laugh at her as she sticks out her tongue. 

To say the least, Christmases with him, became less boring, he made me feel something for the holiday again, and it made me feel so good. Our first Christmas together as a married couple was weird because it was still objectively the same, but the wedding photos decorating our mantle surrounded by garland was different. And yes, Bibi was the Maid of Honor, to clear up any questions about that. It felt like I’ve been married to him a lot longer than that, he never fails to surprise me. I wake up to him coming into our bedroom with Hydrangeas and Carnations, I giggle our first anniversary together as a married couple is what the carnations resemble, while the Hydrangeas resemble our fourth anniversary together. Lasting vows and joy for years to come the Carnations scream; appreciation and gratefulness for the two of us being together, the Hydrangeas. “You’re probably asking yourself, how does Mark know what flowers to get? Well, its simple I listened to you and I also asked Bibi for help” I laugh, hands gesturing for him to come here, I have a vase strategically placed on our bedside table and carefully place them there. Pulling him to my arms, kissing his nose, I reach behind my head, underneath the pillow where the box laid thankfully unharmed. “Bibi and I went shopping for hours for the perfect gift for you. And I don’t know if you’ll like it or need it, but this for you”I say handing him the long but small in width box, “Babe, anything you get me, I’ll like and you know it” He carefully unties it and pulls it up, and it’s a long silver tire gauge with the words engraved on it, ‘I love you, but the tires are low on my car’ He looks over at me with a laugh, and kisses me, “Thank you, I’ll fix the tires tomorrow, but would you mind spending all day in the house?” I nod, and he places the tire gauge on the nightstand and wraps his arms around me, as I wrap my arms around him, “Merry Christmas, Flower” I look up at him, “Merry Christmas, Grease” He rolls his eyes at me, and pulls me closer into him, my arms wrapping around his torso with ease and we fall back to sleep together.

#mark #mark tuan #mark x reader #mark got7 #got7 x reader #fluff #mark x you #got7 x you #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop fluff #got7 fluff #mark tuan fluff #x reader #reader #25 days of christmas #prompt 1 #mechanic au #florist au #christmas #Christmas fanfiction #day 1 prompt 1 #mark tuan fanfiction #mark fanfiction #fanfiction #got7 fanfiction #got7 #kpop fanficiton #kpop fic #mark tuan fic

[let-sanji-say-fuck]

Hi boo. I first read „let sanji fuck“ and I was like Hell yeah! I should really start to read better 😄 anyways. Could I have hcs on Sanji, Kid, Marco and Law about how they would react if some other guys would hit on their girlfriend really aggressively and the gf feels clearly uncomfortable? Good luck with the blog ❤️

Heck yeah, let Sanji fuck works too. And sure thing you can! Thanks a lot for the warm welcome, cute nonnie! Hope these are good~!

Warnings: sexual harassment and stalking mentions. Always stay safe folks.

Sanji

Being the clingy type, Sanji is going to be very aware of whenever someone approaches his lover. As much as he hates to admit it (because it’s barely gentlemanly), he’s overcome with jealousy if other males start to hog her attention, but also trusts his s/o and will let her handle the situation if the newcomer seems innocent about his intentions. It’s just small chat, isn’t it?

He’s going to stay around just in case. Generally, straying too far from his lover can make him sulk deeply, and knowing that she’s in the company of another man doesn’t ease his sorrow in the slightest. He doesn’t care he’s pacing and his arms are full with grocery bags, and neither does he pay mind to the weird looks he gets from the pedestrians, watching over his s/o is his absolute priority.

Sanji is incredibly observant. It can take so little as a slight twitch of her brow or a low, awkward hum, but he’s already noticed that this guy isn’t good news. In fact, he won’t even let it go further from the initial discomfort: the asshole was breaking into her comfort bubble and Sanji already felt the need to kick him underground.

When he steps into the conversation, it’s going to be with nothing more than a sweet smile directed at his s/o. He knows she’s feeling alarmed, so the last thing he needs is to startle her anymore with the glint of a murderer in his eyes. He gently pulls her closer and starts to ask about her day, question if she felt like having something special for dinner, tell her about the nice clerk lady who had offered a discount on the milk because he had helped her find her cat… Just anything to comfort his lover and remind her that he’s right there next to her, and that no one is going to mess with her.

Isn’t above stepping towards the guy, smile turning forced and tight, and “thanking” him for keeping his lover company, but dismissing him because he’s clearly not needed anymore, nor will he be in any point in time. If his s/o hadn’t tugged at his vest to silently ask him to get going, he could have rubbed the butt of his cigarette in one of the bastard’s lecherous eyes.

He might find the guy and make him pay for putting his sweetheart through such a bad time, but he honestly forgets and can’t care less about him if, on the way back to the ship, she snuggles close to him. Bonus points if she takes one of the grocery bags (although not without some complaints from him) to free his hand… momentarily, because her plan is to hold it tight with her free own. Bonus bonus points if she praises him and calls him “her prince charming”, this boy is very in cloud nine.

Eustass Kid

Oh boy. Oh boy, what a brave little shit. This guy clearly wasn’t present when Kid set foot on the island with his arm slung over his s/o’s shoulders because if he had, he would know by now that the girl is very much not open for a stranger’s compliments. The only other possible option is that this man doesn’t value his life anymore, because Kid’s anger can be felt from miles away when he finds out.

Kid is one of the most possessive guys to be found across the wide seas and, while he doesn’t mind his s/o wandering around on her own account, he definitely does not appreciate someone chasing her pretty little ass. It was his lucky self’s, and what kind of man would he be if someone stole what is his right under his nose?

He only saw three things: the dude’s mouth by her ear, a hand forcefully groping her bottom and the mighty slap his lover delivered as a desperate means of self-defence, and quite frankly? Her outburst turned him on, but work comes before pleasure and his absolute job as a pirate is disintigrating the asshole on the spot.

Once he’s done with the miserable soul and only if the beaten body hasn’t been reduced to dust, he’s probably going to nail the corpse to the most visible building in the town and make everyone know that he does not like having his property toyed with, and that he isn’t nice enough to share. Kid expects his kind announcement to be first page on the next morning’s newspaper. What better way to let everyone in the world know who his s/o belongs to?

No one has had the balls to approach his lover again, but Kid likes to take extra measures. That is why whenever the Kid Pirates arrive at a new island, his s/o is going to visit the town exhibiting a pretty collection of red and purple love bites and scratches on her neck and thighs and back, and always at a safe distance and under his watch.

Kid might also teach her how to beat and crucify people in an excruciatingly slow way just in case she comes to need the skill. There’s nothing that he takes more pride in than seeing his babe knocking a pervert out cold and making him suffer for daring to place a hand on her. It’s one weight off his chest and – a plus! – he finds it incredibly hot in its own twisted way.

Marco

Marco is really chill about his s/o. Not the overly protective kind of partner, and enjoys having having space to breathe himself, so it’s only natural he’ll leave his s/o to her own devices as well. However, he insists on having her carry a Baby Den Den Mushi wherever she goes on her own. He’s at her beck and call whenever she needs him.

Knowing that a call meant something bad was happening, Marco is still perfectly capable of staying calm and answers with a playful “yo”. No matter her situation, first and foremost he wants to reassure her that there is nothing to be worried about, and what better way than being his playful self? He’s honestly a little relieved when she answers lightheartedly. He wants his babe to be radiant at all times.

When he said that he was just one ring away, he wasn’t kidding. He answers the call nearly immediatelly, and is there by her side even faster. Literally will fly towards her and just casually hop next to her, waiting for an update on the situation while he pulls her close.

If the sight of a fire blue bird isn’t enough to convince any stalker or harasser to back off, Marco is more than happy to kindly explain to this very annoying dude that his company wasn’t and would never be a necessity. A slight pat on the shoulder, a hearty laugh even. It’s all about manners, really (but the warning in his eyes probably had something to do with the way the man scurried away).

Treats her to something sweet afterwards because he’s so proud of how she stood strong in such a stressful situation, but also because he wants her to release the tension from her shoulders. It was a small scare, sure, but this big bird is always there to protect her, no questions asked. If she continues feeling a little down about the recent happening, he’s going to stain her face with chocolate and cream until she goes back to being cheerful cutie, slapping his hand away and laughing.

Okay, he does enjoy having some room to breathe, but he’s never ever going to turn down his s/o if she wants to stay close to him out of insecurity or fear. Holding his hand and keeping up some idle chatter, anything to have her comfortable and happy (or following him around like a lost tiny duckling, duck mom here is going to protect).

Trafalgar Law

There’s something that has stuck to Law from his childhood, and that is being an overprotective older brother. Well, lover in this case. It’s difficult to try to hit on his s/o when she’s literally next to him at all times, and also not wise: the long sword and tattoos spelling “death” should serve as enough warning. However, holding her hand in public is kinda out of the question, which is where the brainless flirt comes to play.

Law is far from amused when some guy appears out of nowhere to return a handkerchief that obviously didn’t belong to his s/o, if the shake of her head and the polite denial were anything to go by, but the man was relentless. He obviously couldn’t feel the daggers Law was glaring at him, otherwise he would have fled when Law’s lover first told him that the trick wasn’t going to work with her.

Honestly, Law doesn’t show the man much mercy, and decides that the best option is to chop his forearm off when he tries to catch his s/o’s hand and she jerks away, alarmed. Thanks to his ability, there was no real threat in the dismemberment, but the asshole was scared as shit when he saw his arm not attached to his body anymore, and floating inside the blue curtain.

When he considers that the harasser has suffered enough (and that he had made an unnecessarily big scene), Law gives back his arm, placing it a little askew, but kept a couple of fingers as a reminder for the man to learn about the proper uses of a hand, which didn’t include trying to touch a woman who didn’t want anything to do with him.

After the first close call, which he hopes is actually the only one, he asks his lover to call him if she’s away from him and senses herself in a dangerous situation. Pinpointing her position, Law would be able to immediately bring her back to his side thanks to his power, but he would rather she didn’t go through such a scary experience again.

Law might actually start holding her hand from then on, in case some airheaded bastard decides it’s a good idea to mess with the girl of an infamous pirate. Lo and behold, though, he finds out that he really enjoys the contact and stops being so grumpy after the first few times walking across crowded streets with his lover’s hand tightly held in his.

#Sanji #Eustass Kid #Marco #Trafalgar Law #Female Pronouns #Fluff #Headcanons #Anonymous

[aimlessfool]

Four years, One Night

Prompt: Kisses under an umbrella Thank you so much for the prompt, Spider! :D (tagging in case the ask got lost :’) @exalok​ ) And here you go! :D

Pretty much this is an AU where Corvo was given to Dunwall at the age of 20, and he and Dàud had a relationship that is low key still there, even though they haven’t seen each other for four years. And Daud has no bounty on his head yet. :’)

Seventy four in coin. Corvo had counted them all, from his coin purse in the innermost pockets of his coat, sewn in there to not be easily lost. It was all he had to spend this fugue, and all he had ended up being left with at the end of the year. A year that had little excitement in it, little sorrow else from what was left over soon two years ago. Only a month or so after he arrived. The death on an Empress or Emperor had always weighed heavily on the Empire, at least the closer to the capital you would get.

The man facing the pubs from the rooftops remembered well how news such as these reached Karnaca and his mothers stories of them, and how most of the grief took seed in the nobles, and those few middle class and lower class citizens that were loyal enough to grieve. He had rarely understood the great devotion to those above others, and how much a leader of the Empire was loved. But little did it matter, and little could he dwell on those thoughts as of years and counting, considering that he had to keep them to himself just about every day of the year, else from these few precious days. Perhaps in time he would understand. He figured so, considering he had the rest of his life left in the Tower. Forever watching over the Empress, until the day she would eventually fall. But it would not be because of him... He would make sure of this. He supposed that any child of the Empress would cast him to the hounds once he was too old. Hrm, that day that sorrow.

It was time to continue on his way to reach the pub and docks, to wander about and see how much things had changed for the last four years. Corvo had found himself wanting a break from watching over the princess, who by now had already settled into her little safe room where she told Corvo sternly, to "go out and do something" for the last hours of the fugue. So with her orders, Corvo followed what he wanted for the first time in a while, heading out and leaving his work behind for once, this going to be a secret kept from the Emperor. The thing was, for the last three fugues, Corvo had ended up only watching over the royal family, not doing much of what he wanted. This was something he had accepted very early in all this, so it was no problem, for honestly, nothing more was to be expected.

This had been fine, until he was stuck needing to do something with his time on his own, and not having work. Soon four years of this had Corvo's mind go blank, as he moved along the chimneys like a cat, crawling his way over the dirty and slippery roof titles.

At least it was fun enough to use the city's roofs to continue the training he haven't had much of, for it was perhaps best to not show off too much of his abilities to the Emperor and his sly spymaster, who often eyed Corvo with suspicious eyes when he trained, Corvo going about like a whirlwind on the training fields. If Corvo ended up showing off too much, he might end up being questioned of where he learned such things, as stealing coin purses and slipping away from sight without a trace. It would be bad enough as it were in general, but the other consequences that would follow with it would be even worse, if he were forced to reveal who he learned this from. A man that he...

...

Corvo kept moving. Slowly but surely, as he was careful and certain with his steps, Corvo reached the pub he wanted to see first. After an easy climb down and without much fuss, Corvo found himself back on the cobblestone of the city streets, right beside an old brick building, where his hand resting against it. He slid his hand along the building as he went, an old habit of his that apparently wasn't fit for the buildings of Dunwall, as he scratched his palm against the rough brick, not to draw any blood, but enough to itch. So scratching at his hand, Corvo went out from the alleyway, opening the cracking metal fence door with his foot as he went along, not bothering to use his hand, despite them both resting at his sides by now, to appear more casual than others. He was wearing an outfit of the few items he had from home of his casual clothing, the shirt draped over his chest bigger on him than it should be, with reason too. All this, so he would fit better in with the others in there, and not be as recognisable. Yet, Corvo doubted nobody but court members would even bat him an eye, for there had been no mention of his status or arrival in the newspapers. So few would know of him. Walking in with a hand lingering on the door handle, Corvo took a gander over the open floor ahead of him, seeing many being... To put it lightly, stretched out over them, enjoying their time. There were music, some song that Corvo did not know of, perhaps it being a local variant of songs that he should know, from listening to Jessamine play some on her harp. Yet, he had paid little attention due to other thoughts in his head about music, so... He could not name them, but did feel a sense of familiarity with the violin. It almost sounded like how... Daud played to him. Corvo pretended to walk in with alcohol on his mind, stepping along the drunks and tables as if he had done this several times, which wasn't that far from the truth. Thinking little of the state of the bar, Corvo still approached it, finding a seat empty beside a man that looked like a sailor, draped over the counter with his hand clenching around a glass. Hrmp, one can't choose your neighbours in a bar at fugue, Corvo knew this.

The bartender wasn't thinking of the new arrival, nor was Corvo, who by now leaned on his hand, propped up by his elbow, looking over the rest of the room, from what he could see of it. There were life, akin to those at night in Karnaca. Men howling with conversation and laughter, the thick ooze of beer and general alcohol in the air, and music, though more sombre than those songs he would listen to back home. It was like he had wandered back home, a gateway more suited to him than a ship.

Sighing, Corvo actually tapped the counter for a moment, to see if he gained the bar tenders attention. It ended with Corvo offering some coin, for prices were random at fugue, he knew this, and he was given a glass of beer, one that Corvo very, very slowly started to chip down with as he sat there, watching the life, his chest growing warm with alcohol and the warmth of a good bar, where there were merriment and good times. Not as dreadful as the rainy streets outside.

About halfway done with his beer, the man beside him apparently woke up, looking to Corvo from the counter, his face drunkenly flushed. It was a guard, one he knew from the barracks. Smiling as he sipped his beer, Corvo patted his back a few times, a friendly gesture to tell him to get up.

The man obliged, groaning as he got up, his balance pretty much off...

... And for a moment he was about to topple over Corvo, who quietly reached out a hand towards the man's collarbone, stopping him from falling. And the poor drunkard started huffing, though found that what he thought Corvo wanted wasn't right, as he was met with a amused smile, something that he truly did not expect. So he got himself back on his feet, and headed off to a table, to switch seats... And Corvo had a slight understanding as to why, and paid it little mind afterwards.

Half an hour later, with Corvo oddly enough immersed in this whole cosy and fun atmosphere, he was out of beer. And knowing how it was with prices, Corvo decided to stop there, and just slide the glass between his hands, in a bout of boredom. It had the bartender take the glass from him in mid movement, Corvo's eyes going straight to him... And he just chuckled. Smiling a little.

Bartender paid little mind to this, and just let Corvo be, supposing he have had enough, though... Today he wasn't actually allowed to stop him.

Corvo didn't mind, stretching over the counter and ending up people watching again, idly wishing that there were some Serkonian blabber about, to just feel even more like home for this very slight moment. He rested his head against his arm for a moment, head facing the room and tables out there, and the men and women there, some even starting to get frisky.. That came naturally with the hour, so it was nothing Corvo hadn't expected. He had a smile, still, and it hadn't waned often the last half hour. He was even slightly red, though he was far from tipsy, a half litre of beer far from enough to get him properly flushed. He just enjoyed this. The taste of the beer wasn't too bad either...

Though he wouldn't be idle for long, as the same man that nearly flattened him to the bar stool earlier now suddenly grabbed at Corvo's collar, this instantly causing Corvo to look to him alarmed, and trying to get the hand off it, before it could do some damage. But he failed as he stumbled off the stool, and was promptly dragged out of the bar's back exit, closer to the waterfront than he wanted to be with a drunk guard at the moment. There were little resistance from Corvo, though he truly wished he could wring himself away. Having a feeling he knew where this was going, and once he was let go, Corvo quickly turned to the drunkard, though still with a lighter expression, not going to let this ruin his night. It was just a minor thing.

"What do you want?" Corvo asked, a hand reaching to the back his collar to check for holes... None.

"A fight." The man blabbered out, his slurred speech revealing just how damned drunk he was. "Royal Protector an' all, you got a fight in you I want." Corvo snorted. This felt somehow familiar, like a lot of things tonight. Corvo considered the request...

And promptly punched the drunkard in the face, retaliation for what he did to his shirt, as he truly felt like that was something he should not have done.

The man did budge, the first too sudden and very hard hitting for him not to. And he then promptly attempted to punch him back, failing first, but with a very dirty trick of kicking Corvo's feet off balance, he managed to get him down to the cobblestone, some of them stinging as they hit Corvo's back individually and causing some pain. And then a fist came flying at Corvo's face, exactly where he should not be hit, and due to the shock of it all, Corvo got a fistful of pain right into his cheek and eye, grunting and ending up kicking the guard down, not going to take this laying down.

And with him down Corvo moved to his feet again, and ended up kicking the drunkard in the stomach, with the aim of letting him have a hangover before he would actually get it.

Hopping back right after the kick, Corvo's hopes where fulfilled, and the guard started to vomit out his very expensive alcohol right after the kick. He howled in anger and pain as he did, spitting curses at Corvo who stood over him, actually not wanting to punch him further. A punch for a punch, after all.

"Have fun with your coin then, Gallwood." Corvo muttered, ending up chuckling as he turned on his heel, and waved to the cursing idiot on the street floor.

Now, Corvo supposed he could continue his sightseeing, since the good idiot was too brick brained to understand Corvo didn't want him falling on him. So, he slipped out of sight and into an alleyway, idly wandering with a little hop in his step as he did, just happy and somehow feeling a bit more energised after getting punched in the face. He supposed within a few minutes he would have a bruise, but it would just have to be. It just might end up with others wanting a fight from him keeping away, which was good. ... And about that, for a moment, Corvo felt watched. So he stopped, suddenly and all, and looked behind him, into the darkness of the alleyway he had just turned into, and found... Nothing but rats, scuttling over the cobblestones and to his feet, passing by without much fuss.

... Tossing whatever thoughts he had out of his mind, Corvo continued.

Now turing, the docks stood before him, a little bit from the side of the whole thing, though. There were not much life, just a few sailors here and there, with the increasing intensity of the rain surely having chased off most of the people out in the streets. At first it was a drizzle, now it was getting worse. Which Corvo had found to just be good, he liked it when the rain was "warm" like this, and not icy cold as it usually where. Now at the side of the river, Corvo moved along the rock formations, and past so much rope and cargo crates. He saw shirts, coats, fishing rods, umbrellas... A lot of things, just strewn about as if in their owners where in a hurry. And from experience, Corvo knew this was the case, as it were how most dockworkers and sailors would end their day as soon as the fugue was rung in.

Now humming at a Serkonian song from the back of his mind, Corvo idly wandered along this place, and soon ended up on the other side of the docks after having picked up one of the umbrella's at the side of a barrel, wanting to just fool about with it, as he would back home, if he ever found one. He thought of many things as he wandered, the hop in his steps having started to waver to a normal walk.

This whole night had felt like he was back home, more a feeling than anything else, though. He had been content, forcing himself to think that he was, thus feeling it. For despite him having fun, despite it feeling like home, something was gnawing at him, something missing. Daud.

Even with his shirt, Corvo still couldn't help but to want the man himself there, wandering along with him. He thought, for a slight moment as he dressed himself back in the barracks, that the shirt would be enough to keep the... Longing for Daud at bay, but... Despite trying his best, it just wasn't enough. He was supposed to be there now. Like back at home. When he had work, it was easier to just use his shirt as a familiarity and distraction, but now...? It wasn't... Right. Things felt like back home, but really wasn't, due to missing Daud. ... Thinking of things to help take his mind off this, especially now that he was close to where he ultimately realised what had happened, four years ago, Corvo fished up the cigarette case of... "His."

Fished out a cigarette and his lighter, and lit it, the umbrella helping with this. Perhaps he had it in mind once he picked it up.

For years he hadn't thought of him. Until now. ... Void damnit.

Corvo stood there for an hour. He smoked three of the cigarettes, the third just being lit as he heard something at his left. Corvo paid it little mind, supposing it was a sailor looking for something he had dropped here, or whatever else.

But when a hand reached out to the cigarette he had in his hand, out of the blue, Corvo reacted with a silent shock, mouth very subtly agape as he turned to see who was that blunt as to simply take the cigarette from his mouth like that. And with the light of the smoke, came the view of a familiar face, a familiar nose... A familiar man, with Corvo's cigarette in between his lips. ... His chapped lips.

"I was wondering where my shirt went." The very familiar man muttered, his voice rougher than before.

... Corvo froze as he stood. Slightly leaned over a railing separating him and the river, with his head ever so slightly tilted towards the left as the gears in his head turned, to understand what was just happening. To get it into his brain that... This man right beside him, coming closer and inching under his umbrella... Was Daud.

... Corvo tried to say something, tried to move when Daud got so close to him their shoulders touched.

In order to break the silence, Daud leaned along with Corvo as he hummed for a moment, though half of his body was still exposed to the rain as he did so, the man not minding all that much, though.

"Took my cigarette case too, then." He said, voice trailing off as he ended up looking to Corvo, with a half smile on his lips. Corvo's mouth was still slightly agape, and first now it sank in that... This was Daud. Corvo's fist clenched, and he was about to move, about to turn sharply and punch the man before him in the face, for having been gone for four years, for not having sought him out, but... It wasn't certain that he got the letter. It wasn't certain he was aware of where Corvo had been for the last four years. He didn't know if he had gotten caught up in anything- he didn't have the right to punch him. Yet he wanted to, so badly.

"Daud?" Corvo finally managed to mutter, his voice revealing his feelings about this meeting all too well. There was a certain vulnerability in his voice too, a sadness in it. As if he wasn't able to accept what was there, right in front of him.

There was a nod from the man, and he tilted his head to meet Corvo's, the cigarette safe between his lips. "Corvo." He said, his eyes saying a lot about how he was feeling for the moment.

"... Where?" Corvo finally managed to ask, aware of Daud being within reach, if he just angled himself slightly to the side.

"I would ask the same, had it taken me longer to find you." Daud muttered, and knew that it wasn't a satisfactory answer, so he continued, his arms resting idly over the railing as he apparently relaxed. His answer was... Guarded too, which Corvo picked up on easily.

"I got caught up in something. What, you know." The man took a drag, and blew it out, towards the rain and away from Corvo. "I only got home a month ago." Corvo's heart sank, as now that Daud was closer to him, he saw an angrily red line down the side of his face, just as Daud turned to look to him again. It wasn't only the reason his heart sank, though.

"I ended up travelling. Finding things, stealing for them. A lot happened, Corvo. Thus why I didn't seek you out before now." Daud lifted his arm up, and patted his chest, just where Corvo knew he usually sewed in pockets in his coats. Like he did to his. Corvo understood what it meant, Daud always kept the things most important to him close to his chest.

... A long pause of silence followed. Daud didn't feel like he could ask Corvo what he had been doing, not because of privacy reasons, but honestly... He wasn't sure how Corvo felt about him anymore, and he wouldn't take any chances either. It would make things more difficult. "... I'm pissed." Corvo said, and had a slight smile on his face... A smile that Daud knew, but if it meant the same, he wasn't aware of.

"I told you to quit while you were ahead... Then, you end up gone for four years..." He said, looking over to Daud again, and gaining another look at his face. "And yes, I do believe you... Those bastards were the types. I just don't understand what happened.. How did they keep you?" Daud... Sighed, turning to look to Corvo more, as if seeking-.. Something. He wasn't sure what.

"Things meant little to me. My own life, less so." Daud muttered and trailed off, his eyes set on Corvo's, and his right hand, ever so slightly moved against Corvo's, all without the man realising it himself. Corvo did, though, and didn't even flinch, nor look to it... He was about to move to the others hand.

"... If I knew you had left and were safe, I'd... Quit sooner." Daud finally said, moving his hand away just as Corvo was about to touch it.

Corvo sighed, deeply, and lightly tapped Daud's hand with his finger, Daud noting it. "Yes, you should have." Corvo muttered, frowning slightly... To then just full on frown, the drag Daud took from the cigarette showing more of his face...

"... I was taken, three days before you were supposed to come home. It was a hasty delivery, they wanted me gone as soon as possible..." Corvo started, turning away from Daud, as he just... Couldn't look at that wound.

"So I took what I could, went to my mother, and said goodbye to Karnaca... To home..." Corvo sighed, a lopsided smile showing on his lips now, as he reached for the cigarette Daud had in his mouth, and took it from him, to take the last drag. "I'm sorry for the mess I left.." Daud huffed. "Don't be. It wasn't that messy."

"So they left it alone, then?" Corvo seemed.. Hopeful as he spoke.

"Yes. Most of Karnaca knew that was our place, so they left it well alone." Almost as tidy as it had been for the two years the two of them had been together.

"Good..." Corvo seemed almost relieved.

"So... What did you do?"

Daud watched the cigarette bud fly from Corvo's fingers down into the sea. "I sold everything but your things... The apartments is sold off, I needed the coin."

... Corvo's heart... Now truly sank into his chest, the man even feeling a sting from the feeling of it... Not because of his things, but.. The place he and Daud had called home... Was gone. Really so. He had already accepted that he wouldn't get home again, but... Maybe not as much as he had hoped. Biting as his lip, Corvo calmed himself down, taking a deep breath as he sighed again.

"... You knew I'd not be able to go home again." Daud nodded, picking up on the sadness in Corvo's voice. And thus, figured that... He could maybe... He reached out the same hand to Corvo's again, who didn't budge. He let Daud place his hand on his.

"So, my things are at the usual spot?" Daud nodded.

"I'd best get them delivered soon. Conrad, he's still working at the docks?"

Daud nodded. "He arranged the passage for me."

"Good." Corvo acknowledged, and finally looked to the hand on his, to Daud.

He wanted to say something that had been on his mind all night, something that most likely... Wouldn't be all that welcomed, so... He instead trailed back, trying to figure out something to say.

".. I've been appointed Royal Protector of the princess... Jessamine." He explained, finding that it had some good timing... Yet, these sort of news were never good timed, no matter what, especially to a man with such work as Daud had, and most likely... Wouldn't be able to escape, if Corvo's fears were great enough.

"So, I've been busy making sure her and her family is safe... For the last four years I've been sleeping in the barracks, but within a month of two, I'll be moved. To the Tower."

Daud's face was hard to read, but one thing was for certain. He was happy for the man before him. And Corvo, who knew him, now twisted his hand around, and entangled their fingers. A subtle way to tell him to stay. "Climbed your way to the top... Never expected anything else." Daud said, a sort of chuckle present in his voice as he spoke. And he found, that he didn't mind the entanglement.

Corvo nodded along, with a slight smile. They were worlds apart now. It was easier back home. Corvo sighed, deeply. He didn't want to ask this, but it was a given that it were. So there were no other choice.

"... What are you doing here Daud...?" He asked, as he was the one who most likely, followed him for a while. And first after the words left his mouth, he understood how they sounded...

Daud took a moment to reply. Corvo swallowed. "I came to look for you. Took me a few days, until you happened to punch a loud bastard behind a pub." He chuckled, smiling. "I knew it was you just from the shirt alone."

Corvo smiled, the smile lopsided and without much merriment. "So you're back for the shirt, then?" He asked, looking to Daud again, now noting that Daud hadn't pulled back his hand yet.

"You can keep it. It looks good on you." Daud muttered, and looking to Corvo, their eyes met, and he... Promptly looked away.

"... Sorry I took most of your clothes." Corvo muttered back eventually. "No, you're not." Daud chuckled, and found himself looking back to Corvo, starting to understand a little bit more about how things were now. Corvo was an open book to him, always were, and the more they talked, the more he understood what he meant with all.

... Soon Corvo moved, fishing his lighter up from his pockets using his left hand, and.. Lit it close to Daud's face, the man looking curiously to the flame, them to Corvo.

"... What happened to you...?" Corvo found himself asking, eyes wide at how... Bad the wound-... No- scar, looked. Daud's lips thinned, and once he spotted Corvo's face... He knew where it was from, yet.. Got a bit of a serious look in his eyes.

"Still a sucker for face punches, I see." Daud joked, but did have some concern behind it. "Don't avoid the question." Corvo replied sharply back.

Daud... Sighed. Then looked away, the lighter being put back into Corvo's pocket. That's when Daud noted a hand, moving up to him. To his face. ... Then some pressure at his cheeks, along his chin. Warmth. And the handle of the umbrella...

... Daud leaned in to it, closing his eyes, just for a moment as he exhaled.

"Sword fight getting out of it. A year ago..."

Corvo huffed.

"Fucking bastards..." He said, voice dripping in malice.

Daud... Nodded.

Corvo's hand lingered, not sure what to do with it, else than to pull the man in front of him closer to him. To untangle their fingers, and reach out to Daud, who. Was here now, and most certainly wouldn't reach out to him, the damned idiot. At least he managed to find him. And to talk, explain whatever he needed to explain.

He removed the hand eventually, and untangling the hand with Daud's, to hold the umbrella with that hand. "Tonight, I was forced to not work... Went to a pub, and spent an hour or two there... It was like being home, you know." Corvo started, just to talk. "Felt a lot like those times, when we ended up together at the bar... We would people watch, see them go by, get drunk... Even music, though it was worse here than home." Daud kept quiet.

"I miss home." Corvo muttered, the meaning behind these words more loaded with meaning than he realised himself. And looking at Daud, this statement was something he too felt. Maybe the same way that he had.

"... So, no new home?" Daud asked, knowing he had to.

Corvo shock his head.

And watched How Daud's free hands moved up to his face, first stroking a thumb against Corvo's now bruised cheekbones, while his other hand cupped his face. Corvo's lips parted, like taking in a breath.

Then Daud waited, for a moment. Asking for permission. Which Corvo granted, leaning ever so slightly down to the other, as Daud tip toed to reach him, as they had done many times. The first kiss was a light peck, lips meeting lips, testing the waters. Then another light peck followed, and more after that. Daud's lips were dry and chapped, while Corvo's warm and dry too, yet it didn't really matter for either of them. Now Corvo's left hand cupped Daud's face, and the other, draped over his shoulder, to then hold a hand on the back of his head, as if he didn't want him to leave. Which he did, just for a moment, their lips lingering so close they brushed against each other, and noses nudging against each other as they moved to... Inch a little bit closer, in a moment of needing to breathe. Their lips met again, this time leaving out the pecks, and instead pushing against each other with hunger behind it. They didn't care if anyone was watching, didn't mind if someone saw them. This was all about them.

Not knowing nor caring how much time had passed, eventually they separated, Corvo mostly breathing through his nose, but finding it to not be enough to manage to stay with Daud for any longer than this. Daud pulled back too, though oddly enough his hands had moved, down to Corvo's shoulders, and had rested there for a while, and wasn't moving even as they pulled from each other. Between parted lips, Corvo was catching his breath, Daud too, and it ended with both of them crashing together again, their kisses intensifying with every breath they shared between each other.

They ended up so caught in this that they leaned over the rope railing, Daud stopping them though before they toppled over the railing, by taking a hold of Corvo's waist and angling him away from this, Corvo gasping in between kisses as he was moved, though he had yet to realise that was why Daud touched him like that.

Eventually, they both parted, cheeks flush red and lips slightly swollen from playful bites, both happy to see each other in their own little way.

When Daud parted from him, he stopped being on his tip toes, and now, leaned his head against Corvo's collarbone due to Corvo kinda making him, who slowly stroked his hand through Daud's hair, as if trying to soothe him. It didn't really, but it didn't mean Daud didn't like it. He just wouldn't admit to that, even though his cheeks revealed his feelings very well... Good thing they were both hidden under darkness.

... Usually it wasn't this... Longing. Grumbling internally, Daud just... Relaxed. Corvo as well, the man actually slightly dizzy.

"... Got a bed tonight?" Corvo asked, a fair question for Daud. With his home sold, it was likely he hadn't spent his coin on a new one.

"No." Daud muttered, sort of understanding the more "hidden" question behind Corvo's words, but still being blunt about it.

"We're allowed visitors in our rooms." Corvo muttered, Daud feeling the vibrations from Corvo's voice on his forehead, as he had angled himself to lay his head like that, nose tucked up against the lower parts of Corvo's neck.

"Hrm. Tempting." Daud rumbled, smiling. Corvo swore he could feel that, how his shirt ever so slightly moved up where Daud's cheek where resting.

"Been a while since I've slept in a proper cot." Daud joked, and nudged with his head that he was standing up straight, which Corvo let him.

Once he stood facing Corvo again, Corvo smiled. "It's not big, but we'll make do."

"Agreed. But I'll have to collect my things first. I'd rather not have it found by any quick witted thief."

"That can be arranged." And with this, Corvo took a hold of Daud's arm, and started to pull at him, all while holding the umbrella still, having made sure that they were both under it during their first moments of reuinion. Daud didn't even hesitate as he let himself be dragged along, the two of them idly chatting on the way, about things they've learned, Corvo more than Daud, but that was usually how it was always.

Over a few rooftops, and down into a window, to then end up in an apartment left empty for what seemed to be years, Daud collected his bag and gear, his sword always having been on his hip from the moment he decided to hold it. As he went back to Corvo, he showed Corvo his new crossbow with lots of pride, the two men swinging out of the window afterwards, Corvo challenging his partner to a race. One that he won, though he could swear something was up sometimes as Daud wasn't heard for a moment or two. It was most likely in his head.

Eventually Corvo went back to his room, one more "special" than the others, as it wasn't anyone in there else from him. With his position came some benefits, of course. And it wasn't exactly at the barracks, so it was easier to sneak in there than elsewhere.

Daud came in through the window, just for the fun of it, and eventually, they both slotted themselves to sleep after a meal, enjoyed over silence, as they would back home. They fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Corvo woke up to Daud still sleeping beside him, drooling ever so slightly on his arm he was resting his head under. Corvo didn't care, and found himself huffing while tossing an arm over him.

Enjoying the moment.

Once both were awake, Daud the more grumpy morning person than Corvo as he hadn't had a lot of sleep as of late, still found himself relaxed enough to eat another meal with Corvo, and promise he'd come back later that day.

And he did, wearing the same shirt he had "happened" to take by "accident". One of Corvo's.

#Dishonored #asks #corvo x daud #corvodaud #knifecrow #corvo attano #daud #prompt fill #this was so fun to write #thank you so much for the prompt again! :DD #i'm pretty rusty so I hope this is ok! #young fools being in love #i didn't have many ideas and this was all I came up with... :') I'm so sorry

[luxexhomines]

(Spoiler) Can i request an S/O being more protective over Ouma? (she protects him specifically from Maki after what happened in the chapter 3 if i remember correctly-)

Hello!! Thank you for requesting but uh...I kind of got confused by your request initially, so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted, I’m sorry. I realize now that you were talking about the reader being more protective of Ouma in general, but I kind of picked a specific moment from the story and then elaborated on it instead of describing a general protectiveness. 

If you’d like to, please send your request in again and I’ll rewrite this one. 

Here you are. It has a brief touch-up on what happened in Chapter 2′s trial and some rewriting of what happened right after they leave the courtroom before it gets to the part you requested for.

Spoilers Warning for NDRV3 Chapter 2 Trial & after the trial!

Kokichi Ouma x S/O Protecting him from Maki

It was right after Kirumi had been found guilty, tried desperately to escape, and been executed brutally without a hint of mercy. Emerging from the courtroom, the skies were a deep blue and the bright stars shimmered darkly. As everyone looked up at the night sky, Kiibo began speaking.

“For now, we should rest. That seems like the most rational course of action to me.”

Everyone was quick to agree, but no one’s eyes budged from the gorgeous tapestry of saturated blue that hung above. It was hard to face each other after watching another loved friend get sent to their death, knowing that each person had a part in finalizing that outcome. Silence lingered for a moment before someone else spoke up.

“The stars are still so pretty, even after all the horrible things that have happened,” Gonta commented. “But stars here different; not the same ones Gonta remembers.”

Kaito seemed surprisingly indifferent as he interrupted.

“Hey, so let’s go back already. I’m completely wiped out.”

But before everyone could turn to leave, Kokichi raised his voice.

“Oh, wait up. I have something to tell you all.”

Kaito only looks away from Kokichi, exasperated.

“What is it now? I’m tired, you know.”

Kokichi made one of those odd, twisted faces, one that put even you on edge.

“Now, now, it won’t take long, so just listen to what I have to say,” he replied. “Everyone seems to be treating me like some kinda compulsive liar… But that’s absurd! There’s a much more heinous liar among us,” he declared confidently.

“A liar worse than you?” Shuichi said, looking dubious.

You had no idea what this was about, either, so all you could do was stay silent and watch as Kokichi continued to talk, unsettled.

“I’m talking about Maki, of course!” Kokichi said.

Everyone was confused, including yourself. But Kokichi continued to reveal how Ryoma had actually blackmailed Maki into giving him his motive video, which only caused further confusion.

“Ryoma discovered Maki’s true identity,” he remarked casually. “So he used that as blackmail. That’s the real reason why Maki didn’t want us to know she met with Ryoma; she wanted to keep her true identity a secret!” he exclaimed.

“What do you mean, Maki’s true identity?” Kaito asked, only more and more bewildered by the second.

Kokichi shrugged.

“Oh, but I’ve known Maki’s true identity this entire time,” he says gravely.

That’s when you saw Maki move out of the corner of your eye. There was no way you could match her speed, but you ran after her even so, seeing her go toward Kokichi, and throw yourself in front of him. You can see a flash of surprise in her deadly red eyes as her hand wraps around your neck from the inertia of her quick movements, unable to stop in time.

You feel her hand twisting around your neck tightly, starting to choke you, and you gag slightly before reaching your arm up and using the side of your forearm to chop the inner side of her elbow between her forearm and upper arm, and you feel her grip loosen as her arm bends away and your neck is released.

No one speaks for a good few seconds, and you cough slightly, bending over with one hand on your knee and the other holding your neck tenderly. Then you raise your head to meet her sharp gaze, giving her an equally unforgiving look. You were just as antagonized as she was as the two of you held each other’s stare. Without taking your eyes away from her, you begin speaking.

“Don’t touch him,” you rasp. “Or were you hoping to become the next blackened?”

You see her features harden and tighten as she grits her teeth, glaring at you.

“I will never understand why you protect someone as worthless and impossibly infuriating as him.”

You lick your lips, tasting blood. You weren’t sure why; perhaps you had bit your lip earlier.

“I would never attack someone for their words,” you reply coldly, scrutinizing her. Her hands are curled into fists, and her eyebrows are furrowed toward the center in agitation.

“You would if you were me and it was him speaking,” she whispers harshly. The area is dead silent as everyone watches the fiery exchange between the two of you.

“But I’m not you,” you breathe. “I’m not you.”

She holds your gaze for a few more seconds in silence before turning and stalking away, clearly incensed.

You let go of breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and turn to Kokichi, who is standing there and strangely enough, silent. He has a blank look on his face, and looks like he’d like to say something, but doesn’t speak.

“Kokichi? Are you okay?” you ask him worriedly. He doesn’t reply for a moment, and you hear Shuichi’s voice from behind you.

“Never mind him for now, you’re the one Maki choked. Are you okay?” he asks, tapping you on the shoulder lightly.

You turn to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t really know what was going on, but I couldn’t let Maki just attack him like that,” you state, slightly murmuring the second sentence.

“How did you see Maki even move?” Shuichi questions. “I only noticed she had disappeared after seeing her in front of you like that.”

You bite your lip.

“Guess I’m…extra-sensitive to these kinds of things. I just saw her moving out of the corner of my eye.”

You survey the group, all of whom look shocked and restless despite their fatigue.

“Can someone go after Maki? Or talk to her? Doesn’t have to be tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. But clearly, I’m not the best choice.” You cough again.

Kaito nods, putting a hand up to volunteer.

“Leave it to me, the Luminary of the Stars. I’ll take care of her.”

The group disperses into the night to their respective rooms, but you notice Kokichi hasn’t moved from his spot, and still bears the same blank face.

“Kokichi, are you alright? Shall we return to the dorms?” you ask, looking at him nervously. He usually has a witty answer and jumps into conversations constantly, but there were no snarky comments after your little fight with Maki.

He blinks slowly, and then his purple eyes find yours.

“Are you okay, S/O?” he steps closer to you, examining your face and appearance. “Maybe we should go to the kitchen first to get some water for you. You sure took a blow from Maki.”

It’s your first time seeing him this disoriented as he places both hands on your shoulders, carefully taking a look at your neck, which is beginning to bruise. It was like he hadn’t heard you ask him if he was okay. He was incredibly stoic and none of his usual playfulness was to be seen.

If only to satiate him and alleviate his worries, you agree and the two of you start walking to the cafeteria. There’s a peculiar silence permeating the air between the two of you, but then he starts talking.

“I didn’t expect that,” he says. When you look at him curiously, he continues. “I didn’t expect you to step in front of me like that,” he says hoarsely.

You look back at the path the two of you are walking on.

“Why not?” you inquire.

You can feel his shoulders sinking down.

“I’ve never had someone to defend me like that before, and especially not here,” he says quietly.

You’re about to reply and say, ‘Well, now you do!’ cheerily, and allow him to drop the subject if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he keeps talking.

“Please don’t ever do it again,” he says rather firmly, despite his voice’s muted volumes.

You stop walking, and he notices a second later, turning to look at you.

“What? Why, Kokichi? Why can’t I protect you?” you say, feeling your heart swell with a mix of anxiety, fear, and anguish. Similarly, your eyes are filling with tears, and you look at the ground, the water droplets falling to it.

He takes a step toward you. And then another. His hand stretches out and rests on your arm near your shoulder.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says, a pain akin to yours evident within it. “You could get hurt like you did just now,” he says tensely, lowly.

You put your hands up and let the tears cover them instead as you cup your face, crying still. You couldn’t stop.

“I can’t, Kokichi! I can’t! I can’t… Do you even know how scared I was, watching her move toward you like that? I thought she’d kill you,” you sob. “If you care about me, let me protect you!”

You feel him put an arm around your back gently, and his voice is nasal, presumably from unshed tears.

“I was scared, too,” he responds seriously. “I thought she’d kill you when you stepped in front of me like that.”

You’re shaking now. Whether it’s with anger, pure trepidation, misery or a mix of all,  you can’t tell.

“Then stop pulling crap like that! If I didn’t need to protect you, I wouldn’t. But you keep putting yourself in these dangerous situations,” you say, voice cracking here and there, “and I’m so scared of losing you!”

There’s another tense silence as if he were pondering your words, but you know he’s not, really.

“You know I can’t promise you that,” he says. “I’m just trying to help us win this game, trying to help us survive. And if only you can survive, at least it’s better than just me. No one wants or needs me around,” he remarks. “But the group needs you.”

You wipe your face and look at him, shaking your head violently.

“How could you say that? I need you, Kokichi. I need you. Is that not enough?” you ask wretchedly, your voice heartwrenching to his ears.

But he doesn’t reply, and the conversation is dropped as the two of you drink a glass of water and return to the area outside the doors.

Before the two of you enter your respective rooms, you grab his hand, which is unimaginably cold and fragile, like the wing of a small bird.

“I love you, Kokichi,” you say, trying to hold in your tears. “Please…never forget that.”

And, unable to look at his face properly, which would have portrayed equal parts shock and bittersweet delight, you turned and entered your room.

“I love you too, s/o,” he replies to the empty area. “Why can’t you see that?” he asks despondently. “That’s why…I’m going to win this game for you and make sure you escape with everyone else.”

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #drv3 imagines #ndrv3 imagines #kokichi ouma #x reader #drv3 #ndrv3 #maki harukawa #shuichi saihara #gonta gokuhara #kaito momota #imagines #writing #lux writes #luxexhomines #agh i want to rewrite it but i have other requests so #if you want it rewritten please send in a new request! #otherwise i think i'll have to leave it be unless i have nothing else to write & excess time #anon #anonymous #request #rewrite #ndrv3 spoilers #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

A Musical Affair

Summary:  Blaine's life has been shaped by scandal. Now his livelihood and, it sometimes seems, his sanity depend on him being as inconspicuous as possible. But a group of unusual friends cause his resolve to totter, and a beautiful singer might shatter it completely. Historical AU

Chapter 5

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The London daylight, though hazy as always, was harsher than the candle-lit parlor of the St. James residence. Blaine noticed very soon that the suit Kurt wore was the same one he had worn on stage, and that the collar was turned over and the cuffs were scuffed. He also noticed that his coat was too thin, and wished he could offer his own, like he would do with a lady as a matter of course.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, until Kurt put a hand into his suit pocket and pulled it out, frowning, with two folded five-pound-notes in it.

“I wish she would stop doing this,” he said, looking at the money as if it had personally offended him. Then he shrugged and put it back into his pocket. “Carole will be glad of it.”

Carole? Was Kurt married? He should be, of course, any lady would appreciate him, but Rachel had never mentioned -

Kurt must have noticed his face, because he laughed. “My stepmother. After my father's death, it got...hard for her. She takes in sewing, but...even living a semblance of respectability can be very expensive. I support her wherever I can.”

Blaine nodded, feeling a little awkward. He had fallen, it was true, and his financial situation wasn't what it had been, but still he had never even talked to someone who couldn't afford a second formal suit or a winter coat.

Or maybe he had. He didn't know how much his grandmother's servants earned, after all, had never even asked himself that question.

Even after shrugging it off, Kurt still seemed angry about the money. After a while, Blaine found the courage to ask,

“Is that-” he gestured in direction of the pocket Kurt had put the money in, “the reason you didn't accept Lady St. James’s invitation for so long?”

“It's part of it,” Kurt answered after a little hesitation. “I repeatedly told her not to give me money, but she keeps doing it. And I just hate to think she sees me as some kind of charity case.”

Blaine remembered toys and books, and later horses, carriages and musical instruments, given to him with a smile by his mother.

“Maybe,” he said hesitantly, “she doesn't mean it that way. I don't mean to say she should continue, especially after you told her not to, but – maybe that's just how she shows her affection. Maybe she just wants to support you, as her friend, just as you doubtlessly support her in other ways.”

The streets they were walking along and the houses they passed slowly became shabbier. Gone were the finely-dressed people strolling along avenues lined with grand houses. The streets became more narrow, the houses smaller. The grand, heralded carriages were replaced with simple cabs. Black-clad clerks and shop keepers on their break, boys running errands and house wives shopping made up the people they passed.

Blaine wondered how much farther they had to go.

“What's the other part?” he asked after a while. “Why you're uncomfortable visiting her?”

“You wouldn't understand.” Kurt walked a little faster, and Blaine wondered if he had offended him. either by the question or by his earlier remark about Rachel.

But before he could inquire or apologize, Kurt stopped walking and turned towards him.

“Actually, you might.” They resumed walking, and Kurt casually took his arm to steer him around a steaming heap of horse dung. Blaine felt his touch for a long time after it was gone.

“From what I know of your...situation,” Kurt said, “your place in society, in life, changed, and that of your friends and general acquaintance stayed the same. Is that right?”

Blaine thought about it. He had been stripped of his birth, his title and his inheritance, and had been forced out of school. His friends had been sons of the peerage, just like him, and to his knowledge, all of them still were.

He nodded. “I never thought of it that way, but yes.”

“And may I guess that at least one of the reasons you are now joining Rachel's little collection of misfits is that you feel—or have been made to feel—not to fit in with your old group anymore?”

“You're right again.”

“So, with me, it's the reverse. The position in life of the person who used to be my best friend, my closest confidante, someone who was as dear to me as a sister—it changed completely. Her father was a simple shopkeeper, but with clever investing, he and his partner made a fortune over night. And then Rachel won the heart and hand of a knight, and now they are almost accepted in the highest circles, and I—I am still the same.”

For a while they walked in silence, while the houses around them became smaller and less well-maintained. Blaine didn't know what to say.

Was Kurt envious? It would probably be hard not to, but Kurt hadn't struck him like someone whose goals in life were money and position.

“I don't begrudge her any of this,” Kurt continued. “But she tries to act that nothing has changed, when it has - when she can't visit me, because - well, can you imagine Lady Rachel St. James in this environment? And I can hardly visit her, because I can't go through the kitchens because I'm no servant, but when I try to use the front door the butler looks at me like I was something the cat dragged in.”

He suddenly stood. “I'm sorry. Our acquaintance is hardly intimate enough for you to be burdened with these things by me.”

“No, not at all, I asked,” Blaine said quickly, and wondered if he dare say the words in his mind. “I would like to...achieve the level of intimacy that would allow me to know these things.”

Kurt's pleased smile showed him he had made the right decision.

“Well,” Kurt said, indicating a little tea shop in front of them. It was in a decent state compared to its fellows, displaying its wares in a big, clean window.

“We're here, I have a room above the shop. Maybe you could come upstairs for some tea and toast and we could work on...deepening that intimacy.”

Blaine wasn't sure if that offer entailed more than tea and toast, but he was about to enthusiastically agree when church bells began to ring.

He grimaced, then shook his head and said, “I'd really love to, but I can't today.”

“A warning from above?” Kurt asked with a wry smile.

“No.” Blaine laughed. “Just a reminder of the time. I'm expected at home.”

Clothes shopping with his mother; not a prospect he relished. But she had been happy lately, and she had finally convinced Grandmama that her prospects of marrying again were better if she had modern dresses that made her appear young and attractive. Blaine had had no idea she wanted to marry, but he was happy she was, for once, excited about the future, and had thought that sacrificing the occasional afternoon to help her make her purchases was a small price to pay.

He hadn't thought then that what he gave up would be an afternoon spent with Kurt.

“But—next time, yes? Please?” he asked, and smiled when Kurt nodded. He shook his hand, and then left, determined that somehow, he would make time.

After hours of shopping, which he mostly spent sitting in an armchair making pleasant conversation with the other clients and the seamstresses who were not currently occupied with his mother, he arrived home, bent under a load of hatboxes and bags full of buttons, lace and reticules. Grandmama must have high hopes indeed for a new marriage for mama, if she was willing to spend so much on what, he knew, she regarded as unnecessary frippery. Then again, there was no one who knew better than her how important it was to keep up appearances if one wanted to move in their circles. Blaine, however, couldn't help the thought of why it was important his mother have three new afternoon dresses and three new ball gowns, each of them worth at least a new suit and a warmer coat for Kurt.

But Kurt wouldn't take them from him, wanted to take nothing from anybody. Blaine smiled, filled with a confusing mix of emotions: shame, among them, for he had never hesitated to take his father's money, or now his grandmother's; admiration for Kurt's fierce independence; and exasperation, because why wouldn't the man accept a little help?

He chided himself for that thought as soon as he had it. He hadn't offered any help, and they were not in a kind of relationship where help could be offered or accepted. Blaine let his grandmother support him, but he didn't take money from complete strangers, after all. And even if it felt differently, and Blaine desperately wanted it to be different, he and Kurt were little more than strangers. He couldn't help him, not yet.

If help was even needed. Kurt hadn't mentioned anything about needing or wanting help, and Blaine could hardly let his own lifestyle be the measure of all things.

And he had seen Kurt's reaction to Rachel giving him money. He knew that was not the way into Kurt's good graces.

Smiling, he thought that maybe he didn't need a way into Kurt's good graces. Maybe he was already there. The way he had looked at him when he had invited him upstairs....he had not meant just for tea and toast, Blaine was almost certain of it.

And in a way he wished he had forgotten his filial obligations for a few hours and gone with whatever it was that Kurt had offered him, and he was determined to take care that one of the next Wednesdays would be fully his own, so if and when Kurt offered again, he would be at liberty to accept.

But on the other hand, he was glad they would have a little more time to just get to know each other. Assuming he was right regarding Kurt's...intentions, he didn't want whatever they were going to do to be like the things he had done in school: hurried hands in the darkness, and then ignoring each other until the need became to great. He didn't want that with Kurt.

But he didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what he could want, what he could even dare to wish for. Was there more than furtive touches in the dark for people like him?

And was his time usefully employed imagining what he could or could not have with a person he had only just met?

Chuckling, he finally shook himself out of his thoughts. Realizing he was still in the hallway and had not even noticed the footmen taking his coat and his mother's purchases, he frowned: this infatuation had taken on excessive extents.

He might need a distraction. And, as little as all of them might want to face it: it was time he found an occupation for himself, something that would allow him to lead a more independent life. He might not be what he could call friends anymore with his former classmates, but if he could swallow his pride, he could still use those connections to find a suitable position.

He should write these letters right now.

On the way to the stairs that would take him to his room, however, he passed the little silver tray the post was put on, and on it, there was a visiting card:

On expensive-looking paper with a gold rim, the name Sebastian Smythe, Earl of Dalton, and as Blaine turned the card, the scribbled invitation to visit any morning this week.

#fic: a musical affair #klaine fanfiction