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klm-zoflorr · 1 year

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The Marleyans part 8: Los Angeles, The Making-Off

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: I'm cold

Connie: Here have my jacket

Historia: I'm cold too

Ymir: What? [taking off jacket] I told you to bring more layers but of course you didn’t listen and now- [piling blankets on her] now look, I’ve got to make sure you don’t FREEZE to death and [taking Mikasa's scarf] how long have you been cold? You should’ve said something sooner.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Armin: I'm cold

Annie: Well what the heck do you want me to do? I don't control the goddam weather!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner, looking at Bertholt: Hey, I'm cold t-

Bertholt : Look we both know we forgot our jackets at camp, don't even try.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: *scooting up on the same bench as Eren and cuddling against him* I'm cold too, Eren

Eren: Don't worry about it *goes to collect some wood, starts a bonfire and then finally sits down, on another bench than Mikasa*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: I'm cold.

Levi: And what do you want me to do? Set you on fire?

Hange: Ye-

Levi: Nevermind. Forget I said anything.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi: What do we do when something goes wrong...?

Jean: Add to cart

Reiner: Cry

Gabi: Mood

Pieck: F in the chat

Armin: Not again!

Historia: Text my ex

Mikasa: Cut my hair

Connie: Shots!!

Falco: Thank you

Hange: Hoes mad

Annie: It's my horoscope

Commander Magath: Bottle it up

Zeke: Leave the country

Eren: Fistfight God

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: I love the phrase "with all due respect", because it doesn't specify how much respect is actually due. Could be none. Bitch.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Marcel: Hey, it's your turn to wash the dishes.

Porco: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD.

Marcel: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes, also use soap this time?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia, struggling to keep upright in her 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me

Mikasa, pointing at her and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels while carrying Eren with her other arm: WEAK.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Zeke, holding a magnifying glass: Scientifically experimented on without consent and disposed off as soon as I am no longer useful.

Pieck: No.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*The squad is having dinner together*

Historia: Mikasa, can you pass the salt?

Mikasa: *Throws Levi across the table*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Eren: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Mikasa: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ARMIN WITH ME

Levi, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Commander Magath: Tonight, one of you will betray us.

Gabi: Is it me, Commander?

Commander Magath: No, it’s not you.

Annie: Is it me, Commander?

Commander Magath: It’s not you either.

Zeke: Is it me, Commander?

Commander Magath:

Commander Magath, mockingly: Is IT mE cOmmAndEr?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Commander Magath: Can I be frank with you guys?

Gabi: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Zofia: Can I still be Zofia?

Falco: Shh, let Commander Frank speak.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco: SaSa LeLe

Reiner: It's Sale Sale

Gabi: 50% off + 50% off, it means it's 100% off, everything is free

Annie: You moron, 50% of 50% is 25% off

Commander Magath: Could you all PLEASE focus and not get distracted by a shop with a sign? Where's the guy we're tailing?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie, laying on her bed: I've heard people say my name twice today, it's either ghosts or hallucinations

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner, from behind the door: It's me outside. Do you want some muffins?

Annie: What kind?

Reiner: Zucchini, but it tastes like banana nut

Banannie: Bananas can nut?

Reiner: You know what? I'll keep my muffins.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck : Why does basil smell so fucking amazing?!

Zeke: Watch out for the brain scorpions though

Falco: It's the basil

Gabi: Yeah, can confirm, it's the basil that does it.

Pieck: Good points

Pieck: Wait what was that first thing?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: *Holding a picture of Pieck* Have you seen this woman?

Hange: No, why? Is she missing?

Zeke: She's on vacation and I miss her

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha, fighting Gabi: You know, out of all the children I've ever had fights to the death with, this is the weirdest one

Reiner: Dammit, Gabi, I told you the cat ears weren't hype anymore!

Sasha: These baddies getting weirder and weirder

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mr. Leonhart: Annie's at that very special age where a girl has only one thing on her mind

Commander Magath: Boys?

Annie: Homicide.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Moblit: Pro-tip: Keep a bunch of wrapped, empty boxes under the christmas tree. When a child misbehaves, throw one in the fireplace.

Hange: ...

Hange: What do I do when I run out of children?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: *sticking a paper that reads "naughty and disobedient children DO NOT FEED" on Falco and Gabi*

Zeke: If those kids could read they'd be very upset

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: *points at his shirt that reads "i rely on pharmaceutical drugs to perform routine tasks"*

Reiner: *turns around, showing the back that reads "and then i don't do them"*

Porco: Oh, is it "cry for help" time yet?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: What should I get from ihop?

Bertholt: Pancake mix

Annie: Sucked off

Porco: Killed

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: I really want to kiss you

Pieck: What?

Zeke: i SAID if you died i wouldn't miss you

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: Oh come on Armin, I wasn't that drunk

Armin: Eren, you tried to color my face with a highlighter because you said I was important

Eren, tearing up: But you are

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco, lowering his voice in an intimidating manner: Don't talk down to me!

Colt: Well, I can hardly talk up to you. You're too short.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Porco: *finishing remplacing Reiner's condiments with toothpaste* Don't tell Reiner about this?

Gabi: You want me to lie to Reiner?

Porco: Is that a problem?

Gabi: No.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: I have a bad feeling about this

Gabi: What do you mean?

Sasha: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Gabi: No?

Sasha: That... Explains so much actually

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi, bleeding out: Call me an ambulance.

Falco, leaning over her, panicking: You're an ambulance??!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: Okay, okay, uh, you're losing a lot of blood, what's your type?

Gabi: Oh anything really but nerds especially

Reiner: YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Gabi: *looks down* Uh. Red?

Falco: B positive

Reiner: LOOK I'M TRYING BUT SHE'S LITERALLY ABOUT TO DIE

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: *waking up in an unfamiliar bed* I love sleepovers

Porco: This isn't a sleepover, you're in the hospital

Gabi: Then why am I wearing this nightgown?

Porco: This is an hospital gown?

Gabi: Truth or dare?

Porco:

Porco: ...Dare

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: What happened?

Pieck: You were shot. Do you remember anything?

Gabi: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Falco: We didn't ride the ambulance

Gabi: Really? Then what was that loud siren?

Reiner: I was panicking, okay!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: Don't worry, I'll be fine.

Reiner: Well you still were shot!!

Gabi: I've been shot before.

Reiner: It's not like you build up an immunity to bullets!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: You got three eggs

Annie: Yes

Reiner: I'll give you a cookie for them

Annie: Mmh. How good is the cookie?

Reiner: Well I don't know. I need the eggs to make the cookie

Annie: So you tricking me?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke, to Eren: I'm trying to figure out a way to get rid of you so I can go commit atrocities

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: Why is there always a law against everything I wanna do?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: Hey Zeke, you know Marcel's throwing a party on the night of the new railroad inauguration

Zeke: Yeah, I've been arguing with Porco about this.

Pieck: Oh, he wants to go to the inauguration?

Zeke: No! Why would he want to-

Pieck: Oh sorry, YOU want to go to the inauguration?

Zeke: No! We've been arguing over who gets to go to Marcel's party with you

Pieck: Can't the three of us just go together?

Zeke: ... Good point

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Commander Magath: *squishes Gabi's face between two slices of bread* And what are you?

Gabi: An idiot sandwich :(

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: I'm definitely the disappointment of the family but also the hottest so i can see why i got them pressed

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ymir: I'm allergic to color.

Historia: Sounds like a "hue" problem

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: We’ve got to find a way to cut down on expenses inside those walls. What can we live without?

Levi: Probably Eren Yaeger

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Armin: Flirt back goddamit

Annie: HOW

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: They're called leggings because u put ur le

Historia: U put ur leg

Historia: They're called leggings because

Connie: Take your time

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: If only I were kpop. Then you'd all see.

Colt: You're already popular and widely hated. What more do you want??

Zeke: Thanks for saying that

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia, crouched down in front of her plants, examining insect bites on the leaves: I’m going to kill whoever did this. I’m going to kill them for you. Don’t worry babies. I’m going to murder every single contemptible degenerate that ever got a mouthful of you. They’ll die screaming

Ymir, walking out of the house: Oh! Okay. You’re talking to the plants. Okay-

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean: Why did you go to sleep so late?

Mikasa, looking into the distance: There is no rest for the wicked

Jean:

Mikasa:

Historia: Cat videos. She stayed up to watch cat videos.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: Could you be any more annoying... Lol

Sasha: Easily.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: I love it when you're drinking pineapple drinks and you can't feel your tongue and your entire face starts sweating, it's so cleansing.

Porco: Sounds like you're allergic to pineapples.

Gabi: Pineapples are supposed to taste like that.

Porco: Pretty sure you're allergic too.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

King Fritz: Bro stop chanting in dead languages you're scaring the hoes

Ymir Fritz: I'm summoning the hoes fool

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: Long time no see, Galliard. I missed you.

Porco: I missed you too

*Both reload their pistols*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: I've got a nice little word exercise for you: GET TO THE FUCKING POINT.

Sasha: Tempting, but have you considered this little affirmation; No?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner:

Gabi to the McDonalds employee: He asked for no pickles!! Takes the pickles off or I'll make jello out of all your bones!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ymir: I went to gay loser land and they said you're like a god to them

Reiner: Why did you go there?

Ymir: Anthropology

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: Hello, people who do not live here!

Pieck: Hi!

Porco: Hello!

Reiner: I gave you a key for emergencies

Pieck: We were out of doritos

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: You know where I want to kiss you??

Zeke: On the lips?

Pieck: No.

Zeke: Neck?

Pieck: No.

Zeke: ██ █████🔞█████?

Pieck: No.

Zeke: Then where?

Pieck: In front of all our friends and family when we both say "I do"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: Wait, is Captain Levi sleeping or dead?

Jean: Hopefully dead, I hated his guts.

Eren: Yeah, so did I.

Levi: Okay first of all, fuck you two-

Eren and Jean:

𓀥 𓁆 𓀕

𓁆 𓀟 𓀣 𓁀

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Hange is cooking*

Levi: That's... An unusual sight. Since when do you cook?

Hange: This is for Erwin. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need him on my side.

Levi: I never quite realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Right before the battle of Liberio*

Sasha: So you remember the plan if I ever get hurt during this battle, right?

Connie: Of course.

Sasha: Tell me.

Connie: In the case of you ever being shot, as you fall to the ground, I am to sing, "MMMM WHATCHA SAY" no matter the circumstances.

Sasha: Good.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: So, guy's old lady comes home, okay, finds him laid cold on the ground with half his head missing

Mikasa: Well, that sounds like there's a titan on the loose.

Hange: Maybe.

Mikasa: So, how does that make this our kind of thing?

Hange: Because, Mikasa, Eren's in the wind, okay, you're sulking around like a ennuch in a whorehouse, and I can't help but ask myself, when is decapitation not my thing?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: rats are like... the rats of the world

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: Gee, Zeke. I thought that someone with two wives would be happy.

Porco: Nah, you're thinking of someone with two knives

Gabi: *holding two knives*

Gabi: I gotta tell you, this is pretty terrific!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen!

Reiner: Really? Name one law

Zeke: Don't kill people?

Reiner: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: In light of what you did for me, you may hug me for four to five seconds.

Historia: FORTY-FIVE SECONDS?!

Annie: NO! That's not what I-

Historia, running at her: Too late!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: *wearing a shirt that says "you are not immune to propaganda"*

Falco: *carrying a baseball bat labelled "propaganda"*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: here’s a concept: me, riding your ceiling fan like a gargoyle. you, smacking me with a broom. both of us are yelling

Levi:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: "i can fix him" "i can make him worse" im at the gas station yall want anything

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Armin: Admit that you made that whole story up!

Reiner: No!

Armin: You started that fight!

Reiner: You callin’ me a liar?

Armin: No but I ain't callin’ you a truther either!

Mikasa: Armin, stop being a coward. Call him a bitch to his face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia, throwing her head into Ymir's lap: Tell me I’m pretty.

Ymir, lovingly stroking her hair: You’re pretty annoying, that’s what you are.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: I like my coffee the same way I like my men

Mikasa: Dark, bitter, and too hot for me

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: WHY IS THERE BLOOD EVERYWHERE?!

Zeke: I may have aggressively poked someone with a knife

Reiner: You stabbed someone??

Zeke: No, I just fucking said that I aggressively poked someone with a knife. There's a difference, Reiner!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha, giving a talk at her 367th "how to woo Historia Reiss" talk of the year: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

Ymir: Which one?! I can't do both!

Reiner: Is "I would betray my country for you" considered nice or too foward?

Eren: Try "Daaaaamn girl you looked hot when you were murdering your hideous centipede titan of a father" instead

Sasha, sternly: Eren. I don't want to do it but I'm going to ban you from the lessons if you keep that attitude going.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: *getting stabbed*

Eren, walking away: This is mine now

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: Wow, you really are the smartest person I know!

Mikasa: You hang out with Sasha and Connie

Mikasa: It's not as high a compliment as you think

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Armin and Hange got kidnapped*

Hange: *Removing her handcuffs* You're lucky that I know how to get out of these.

Armin: Yeah, thank God you've been arrested enough times.

Hange: Hmm. Sure. Arrested.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: You know, when Pieck comes over, Zeke can get a little...

Annie: Psycho?

Colt: Scary?

Bertholt: Drunk?

Reiner: All three, actually

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*At a dinner party in Historia's palace but someone has just been murdered*

Detective Historia, to Hange: You're acting pretty carefree for someone whose life has just been threatened. Who's to say you're not the murderer?

Hange: It's a murder, not a tax audit. I'll be fine.

Reiner: What about Pieck? Nobody ever suspects Pieck!

Pieck: Well what about Sasha? She has a gun!

Sasha: And Connie has a knife!

Connie: Yeah, for fun, not murder! *stabs Reiner in the arm*

*Everybody screams*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: Okay, so I think that was pretty clear in establishing we're all wussies and none of us did it

Detective Historia, taking a puff out of her pipe: Elementary, my dear Watson

Pieck: What?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Note that the "what should i get from the store" quote is, in fact, NOT the same one as in part 6. Neither is the gaz station one. I don't make mistakes, feeble mortals.

Find more of these here ! Also here's one of the incorrect quotes because it was particularly funny

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frenchiefitzhere · 11 months

Note

13. When do they realize they should get together?

For Marie/Colm

Took me a while, but I've got it... Also I'm tagging @ejunkiet for punching my heart with that last SH/Milo fic. BLAM! Take that! So, for Colm, powdered sugar on Marie's nose from the cannolis at the bakery, love at may-as-well-be-first sight, bla bla bla: he knew then. For Marie, it took longer, but she remembers the moment she knew:

She ran out of the house, not caring about the cold rain, not caring that she didn't have a jacket. She just couldn't hear the yelling anymore. The insults. The cursing. The slamming of doors. She ran out to the front step, sat down, covered her ears to block the sound, and sat there, chilled and alone until the discomfort of her wet clothes and the pounding raindrops on her face overcame the strife within and she felt more wet than she did anxious. She didn't see Colm pull up to the house. He sometimes took detours when he was out, just to visit her street. They had only been on three dates, but he just liked to know she was okay, and even if he couldn't tell, the sight of her house just made him smile. But that day, he parked, got out, walked calmly up to the front step, quickly getting as soaked and cold as Marie was, and stood in front of her until she tipped her face up at his.

"You wanna go somewhere?" She sniffed. And nodded. He gave her his hand, pulled her up, and walked her to the car, a look of concern on his face as he closed the passenger side door behind her. "The diner?" She shook her head. "The bowling alley? I think the arcade's open tonight. You could kick my ass at pinball again...?" He smiled. Nothing. He longed to suggest: "My place?" But Colm knew he didn't have the willpower to resist if Marie turned to him for comfort and wanted to stay. In his home. In his bed. But then he had an idea. "You haven't met my grandma yet," he said, flipping his turn signal to the other direction.

It was such an odd thing for him to say out of the blue. Marie looked at him quizzically. They turned a corner and pulled up to a tidy set of condominiums. "I'm a mess. I can't meet your grandma like this, Colm." "Trust me," he answered, offering his hand again to help her out of the car. He rang the doorbell of the little brick townhome with seventeen types of flowers tucked into organized pots around the porch. The bass from a Cole Porter song blasted through the door (Marie had never noticed the bass from Cole Porter before but the stereo had managed to amplify it), followed by a stream of curses. "Goddam it! How do you work this fucking--? Oh for Pete's sake. Damn stupid--- Where's the blasted volume button? Ahhh...there." Soon after, the door opened. Marie was taken aback. An elderly, female version of Colm, glasses and all, was staring back at her. But she was much more effusive than Marie had ever seen Colm. "Ohhhh, my Colmy, you came for a visit! Oh, you're soaked! But I don't care!" The old shifter practically turned to liquid form as she poured herself into a hug and enveloped Colm. He kissed her gently on the cheek and said, "I brought someone to see you." Within minutes, Colm's grandmother had gotten warm, lavender-scented towels and dried them both off.

Herself. She took a fresh towel to Colm first, pressing it to his face and neck and then tossing it playfully in his face and saying, "Okay. You're a grown man now. You finish it." As Colm rubbed his hair dry, his grandmother took Marie by the hand, sat her at the kitchen table and gently took a corner of the towel to her eyes. "You've made my grandson very happy, you know?" "Grandma!" "She should know! You should tell her these things." "He does," Marie said softly, as the kind older shifter wiped away her dripping mascara and draped the towel around her shoulders. "You look like you've had a hard day." Marie nodded. "How about some tea?" Colm's grandma kissed Marie on the cheek and then went to work putting the kettle on. Colm sat beside his girlfriend at the plastic-covered kitchen table and held her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently with his thumb. "You okay?" he mouthed silently. And Marie decided in her heart right then that she would spend the rest of her life with this man.

#redacted marie #redacted colm #the FUCKING greers #the greers #redacted headcanons #redacted minific #frenchie answering asks #ask games

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awanderingmuse-ficrec · 10 months

Text

there is just one thing i need (this is all i’m asking for)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Author: aceofdiamonds @anditsspectacular

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Strong Language, Alcohol,

Word Count: 6,167

Pairings: Percico

Characters: Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo

Tags: Fluff

"You can't use that card every two minutes," Nico says warily, gritting his teeth as he slides his uninjured arm out. This arm is covered in ink, Percy sees. He wants to lean closer, wants to touch, but he doesn't know the boundaries anymore if he knew them to begin with. ”Help me, will you?”

Percy winces at the groan and flash of pure pain on Nico’s face when he gently pulls the sleeve off, holding Nico’s hand like that will help. He throws the jacket onto the bed behind them -- that goddam leather jacket that makes Nico look five years older and makes Percy want to push him down onto the bed and kiss him until his cheeks flush and -- shit. This is what Rachel was talking about, isn't it? Fuck.

realizations and pining and snow and drinking

#pjo #percico #percy jackson #nico di angelo #post boo #pj:angst #pj: holiday #complete #5to10k #teen #fic rec

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im-a-simp-for-kuroo · 2 years

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 hated winter.

he'd always catch a cold and he hated having a cold even more than he hated winter.

when he found himself coughing and sneezing on a what would have been fun saturday afternoon, bakugou katsuki almost threw his thermometer against the wall.

he'd gripped it so hard his knuckles grew white, "stupid thing dosen't know what it's talking about anyway" he'd muttered, walking away.

precisely three hours later, bakugou lay in bed, watching the clock tick slowly, the minute hand brushing past the 8:00 mark with a speed so slow he was afraid he'd grow mad.

bakugou shifted in his bed, annoyed and so very bored. his blanket was itchy and dug into his skin, not to mention his runny nose and sore throat.

bakugou groaned as a fresh wave of pounding took over his head.

he was about to pop another ibuprofen in his mouth when he realized the pounding was coming from his dorm room, not his head.

bakugou wanted to rip his hair out.

why can't people leave me alone for one goddamn day?

"what the hell do you want, extra?"

when he didn't hear a reply, bakugou's eyes flew open in anger as he stomped all the way to his dorm rooms door, yanking the handle open with such force it almost broke.

"what. the. HE-" he cut himself off when he realized who was standing at the door.

you. oh shit, you.

bakugou softened his glare, but he still narrowed his eyes, "what are you doing here?" he eyed the items nestled in your arms, "and what is that?"

you rolled your eyes, used to bakugou's stubbornness, "are you gonna let me in first?" you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes narrowed.

"no" he huffed, but he moved aside nonetheless, his cheeks tinged with the slightest blush.

"that's what i thought," you said, a crooked grin hanging on your lips, as you pushed past him, throwing your scarf on his chair, your jacket on his table, and the items in your arms on his bed.

"go ahead and make yourself at home, it's not like i live here," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

you can make yourself at home for all i care.

you laughed, eyes twinkling with an emotion bakugou had yet to place, "you and your insatiable temper." shaking your head you picked up the can of soup you brought with you, dumping it's content in the nearest pan.

bakugou watched in curious silence from his bed, his eyes tracking your every move in his pint-sized kitchen.

why did you have such beautiful hair?

why did your eyes glow like the stars he often saw from his own bedroom?

why did his heart skip a beat every time he saw you?

"what are you even doing here," he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. why were you in his kitchen, cooking him a meal, when you barely even noticed him during class? it's not like he was perfect boyfriend material. he didn't have perfect blue eyes, or a dazzling smile. hell, he didn't even have a good personality.

so why were you of all people, worrying about bakugou?

bakugou fell back on his bed as he closed his eyes, rubbing a tired hand over his equally tired face.

god, even when i close my eyes all i see is y/n.

y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n-

bakugou's eyes flew open when he felt a gentle hand rest on his forehead. he scrambled up, confusion flickering across his features for a brief moment. he didn't even hear you walk all the way over here.

"you're burning up katsuki, you need to lie down." you raised an expectant eyebrow, shoving the bowl of soup you just made into his hands, "and drink some soup."

katsuki? KATSUKI??

bakugou rolled his eyes, as he shoved your hand away. "again, i'm fine, i don't need to lie down, i just need you to take your stupid soup and leave."

stupid, stupid, stupid! how could you be so goddam stupid? don't tell her to leave you idiot!

he closed his eyes waiting for your footsteps to fade away as you left, leaving him alone just like every other person ever did, but instead he heard a sigh and the thud of a soup container being put down.

bakugou's breath hitched as you carefully pushed him back, bringing his blanket up to his shoulders and wrapping him in it. "bakugou, you need to shut your idiotic mouth for one day and get some rest." you placed the bowl of soup by his bedside. "even the best heroes need rest, and I'm not leaving until the future number one hero recovers from his cold."

y/n called me a hero.

you waited a few minutes, watching as bakugou shifted around his bed, your less-itchy blanket covering him from head to toe.

after making sure he was comfortable, you turned around grabbing your coat, your phone clutched in your hand ready to leave, when bakugou spoke up.

"will you be here when i, uh, wake up?"

you stopped in your tracks, a smile growing on your face.

you turned around, as you placed your coat back on his desk, "that depends, will you listen to me and actually get some rest?"

bakugou stared at you, something swirling in his eyes, and then nodded, "there's leftovers in the fridge." his voice sounded gruff and foreign to his own ears, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't smiling under the mounds of blankets you dumped on him. he turned around, switching positions so you couldn't see him smile lighting up his face.

maybe, just maybe, he'd begin to like winter if it mean you'd fuss over him like this every time he caught a cold.

after all, bakugou would do anything for you.

even catch a cold.

i kinda hate this one ngl, its too un-proofread for me :(

#katsuki bakugo x reader #mha drabbles #mha x y/n #mha x you #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou kastuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha angst #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #mha fluff #katsuki bakugō #bakugou imagine

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whataboringstory · 3 years

Text

I don’t think we talk about how much of a feral country boy Merlin was in season one (and the earlier seasons generally).

I haven’t rewatched the show since May so my memory is a little rusty but this boy shows up to Camelot- a place where he will literally be murdered if he flashes his sparkly eyes around- with so much damn confidence. It’s a little iconic and my anxiety-ridden ass is a little jealous. But like only a little because feral country boy was a bit of a mess.

He shows up to Camelot and on his first day, he tries to start a fight with a knight. A KNIGHT. Not only is he a knight but he’s also the PRINCE. It’s good and all standing up for the little guy and trying to get the knights to treat the servant better but this feral country boy straight up RIPS OFF HIS JACKET and just LAUCHES himself at a fucking KNIGHT who was THROWING KNIVES a second ago. Feral. Iconic. Lil country boy has no shame and no self-preservation.

Then the next day, feral bastard bumps into Prince Prat again and just sasses him so fucking hard. Who gave him the authority to hold that much sass in his feral body. Feral boy then gets into annother goddam fight.

Again, my memory’s shite so I’m skipping to season 1 episode 4 when Merlin accuses Bayard(?) of poisoning Arthur’s chalice. Feral boy is so confident in that scene. He STARES this KING down that he just accused being like “it’s alright, I’ll drink the poison and you’ll see that this bitch is a lying stinky bitch that just tried to poison my prince. RIP me I guess but at least I’m not a liar” and downs the glass while keeping DIRECT EYE CONTACT. Feral energy.

Skipping ahead again to season 2 episode 1 because my memory’s shite. Feral farm boy full on BODYSLAMS Cedric into the floor, wrestles with him then crawls under Arthur’s bed trying to fucking catch him while Arthur is looking on so confused about why he’s in love with this fucking idiot who is ready to throw hands 24/7.

Jump to season 2 episode 7. Guias is accused of sorcery, Uther sentenced him to death, Aridian (i cba to google how to spell his name, bitch doesnt deserve a correct spelling) goes on about purging the magic out of him with fire. Feral farm lad pops out and starts shouting about how arridian is a liar and charges towards him. He then has to be half tackled and dragged away by Arthur while looking like an angry mouse. Then once Arthur has him out of sight in the dungeons, Feral country boy tries to deck Arthur in the face. Valid reaction but fucking feral.

I know there’s gotta be countless more examples but thats all I can come up with today. I really wonder what he was like in Ealdor. He was probably bullied a lot by the other kids, because 1) he’s a little magic boy who can barely control himself at the start, so he probably acted pretty strange in order to keep the secret 2) He’s a bastard 3) He’s a sweetheart who’s so kind and lovely and that’s often seen as a weakness in men(which is total bull). So yeah, he probably didn’t have the best time. But he did have his friend Will, who was also feral and very angry and probs not the best influence, but he really needed will there.(I bet they caused so much trouble in the village and I live for that thought). I think having to deal with people picking on him growing up probably caused him to have to have that bravado and willingness to always stand up for himself/others and get into physical fights with arseholes. He holds so much confidence even though he comes from no high-valued background and has 0 power (0 non-magical power). I think his magic also made him a little cocky. He was a cocky little bitch. Love to see it.

We love feral farm boy

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daredevil-1910 · 2 years

Text

Red and White Snow

warning: mentions of death with description, angst

Ben looked down to his chest, where the amulet rested. From the outside he seemed calm, almost at peace, which made Hermione consider if the amulet was causing him to be more at peace with himself.

But inside Ben was dying, an ever-burning rage brewing inside of him, he kept thinking on how his family died; millions of theories of why everything happened, but one seemed to stand out the most. He ignored it, convinced himself that it was all because of the Amulet. After all, Ron had a similar reaction not so long ago.

He decided to go into the woods, maybe go find some wood for the fire. He kissed Hermione, who was reading a book, and smiled when he saw her fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

Ben picked up his axe that was neatly placed with the rest of the tools, most likely Hermione's work, and picked up the bag that was near it, neatly folded too. Then, he proceeded to head into the woods, chopping the nearest tree. He dropped the bag he was holding and prepared to start swinging.

Ben tried to focus on hitting the tree, trying to keep hitting his mark, but his mind kept on going back; back to that day when he found his mother and sister dead, back to when his uncle got killed. At first, he was blaming Bellatrix, but like many before him, he went further back, thinking how all of this could have been avoided. He went back to his theory before, “It's… Harry, he's the problem”. All that is going through his head is if Harry had never existed his parents would be alive, his sister would still be alive.

He kept swinging, trying to drive those thoughts away from his head, but they wouldn't leave. Each hit brings the image of his sister’s smile and his mother’s kind eyes. He kept going, hitting the tree harder and harder, until he hears it fall. The tree was then cut in pieces, the logs weren’t big enough for him to struggle too much but his mind was hazy, and his aim was off. The logs were butchered but they would still work for the fire.

He took the logs and threw them in the bag, dragging it back to camp. It had been a few hours more than he should have been wearing that amulet, but Ben didn't notice. In fact, he though his mind was clearer than ever. He stormed inside the tent, and found Harry sitting, studying the snitch.

"What’s wrong Ben?" Harry asked with a hint of worry I'm his voice.

Scoff. “Wouldn't you like to know?" Ben took off his gloves and jacket, throwing them on the bed.

"Come on man, talk to me." Harry sat down on a nearby couch.

"Alright, you want to talk, I'll talk to you. I just came to the sudden realization of why this is all happening." A sarcastic smile spread on his face.

"Why's that?" Harry crossed his arms, looking up to meet the taller brunette's eyes.

"It’s your fault Harry, everything is." Surprise flashed in Harry's face.

"I told you guys not to come with me, you insisted. In fact, you refused to let me leave.", he stood up.

"I don't mean that, I mean way before, before the horcrux, before the incident at home, before everything. It's your fault. If my father didn't try and protect you and your family, he would still be alive. “Did you know that, Harry? Did that ever go through your head?" Ben asked, his green eyes lit up with anger.

"Ben that's not fair, you c-"

"No, because if my father was still alive, then maybe, my... My mother and sister would still be here, did that ever go through your head, Potter!?"

"I-", Harry began to stammer, unable to answer.

"All of my life has gone to shit and it's your fault, AND NOW WE ARE STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE AND IT’S ALL YOUR GODDAM FAULT! DID YOU KNOW THAT?" Ben started walking forward, making Harry step back.

Ben pushed Harry through the entrance of the tent.

Hermione emerged from the woods clearly, she was running after hearing all the commotion.

Ben turned around and looked at the axe he had dropped nearby.

"Ben, stop!" Hermione stood between Ben and the tent, she quickly snapped the amulet off his neck and pushed him back.

"Go cool off somewhere before you do something you regret, you buffoon!"

Ben walked off leaving Harry and Hermione.

"Are you ok?" She helped him up. He had stayed on the floor, shock running though his body from seeing the pure anger and hatred that was in his friend’s eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine, he didn't really hurt me." He looked down at Hermione, her hand still wrapped around the Amulet.

"He's been wearing the amulet ever since Ron left. It's been a few days, I completely forgot about it." She shook her head seeming as if to blame herself.

"It's not your fault Hermione, it's no one's fault. Besides, I don't really think he was wrong." Harry shrugged.

"Don't say that you know better than to blame yourself for all of this Harry."

"Then, who's fault is it, Hermione? Who dragged you guys into all of this? I'm the one being hunted, He lost everything, like me; the difference is he lost all of it for someone else, my family was lost because of me." Harry expresses what he had been thinking, and Hermione didn't have words to answer to the boy.

Far into the woods, Ben was still walking. He was cold, but his ears were still hot from his anger. The cold wind was blowing on his face, cooling him down the further he walked. Ben closed his eyes in another attempt to forget.

_____________________________________________________________

Ben found himself on a white hill. Confused, he turned and started looking around; maybe had spent the night outside. He looked around for anything that could set him on course to the campsite, he had a lot to apologize for, and Hermione had to be worried.

He saw some trees behind him, so he began to walk in that direction, but something made him stop dead in his tracks. The sound of a giggle that was all too familiar. He approached the hill once more and there she was, Olivia, in her red sled going down a hill without a care in the world. Ben’s heart started racing as he ran down the hill as fast as he could. Once his sister saw him, she smiled, she smiled with that bright smile that would always make his day better, a smile he hadn’t seen in two years.

“Ben, Olly, it’s time to head back into the house.” Ben’s head snapped to where the sound came from, and he gasped when he saw his mother calling him from what was their home.

“Come on, Benny!” Olivia grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him to the house.

He let his sister drag him, he didn’t say anything, he just stood there in shock. Millions of things were crossing his mind. He couldn’t figure out what was happening, why he was there, and more importantly, why were they there.

“Benny, do you feel well? You look a little pale.” His eyes flashed back to his mother, who was staring at him with worry. He missed that, his over-protective mother making sure he was ok every second of every day.

“Nothing, mom, just a little cold from outside”, he said with tears filling his eyes.

“Well, go get your jacket, cover up!” Ben chuckled but did as his mother told him.

He went into what was his room, finding everything where he left it the last time he was in that house. He couldn’t help but smile. For a second, everything was perfect; for a second, he could forget everything. It was all as it should be.

But a loud bang broke his train of though.

He ran back out into the kitchen, where he left his family, and came back to a horrific sight; a sight he never wanted to see again. His mother was on the floor, a dark puddle around her head, her arm reaching out towards another much smaller body, his sister, who had blue lips and bruises all over her. He felt short of breath, his vision getting blurry.

“Mum, is everything alright?” No answer, all the lights were turned off, and there was a peculiar smell in the air; a peculiar smell that he knew all too well.

“I cannot be living this again”, he thought to himself. He ran to his mother’s body, maybe this time he had time to save her, maybe this time he could help. He kneeled and shook her, trying to get a reaction, but he knew he wouldn’t get one. His hands were covered in blood, his jeans as well. He tried wiping them, but the blood wouldn’t leave his hands.

He looked back at the bodies, gasping for air, but his lungs wouldn’t fill, like every breath he took wasn’t enough. He ran back outside, trying to find out who did it. But like before, there was nothing, no one in sight. He was going to walk back into the house, but a loud roar of fire came from the house. He stared in horror as his childhood home burnt and collapsed.

He ran, away from his mom, away from his family, away from the memories. The further he ran, the colder the air got, the denser the forest, the more snow that would drag him down. Eventually, when he couldn’t run anymore, when his legs were too tired to move, he collapsed on his knees. He looked back onto his hands and the blood was gone, and his jeans were wet with the snow. He sat on the nearest tree, resting his head on it, and looking into the sky.

“If I could switch with you, I would, in a heartbeat”, he whispered into the empty void that the sky seemed to be. There was no other sound that night other than the howl of the wind and the quiet sobs that came from the boy. Hot tears slid down his face, quickly cooling down with the cold wind.

"I'm sorry", he whispered between tears. "I'm so sorry."

_____________________________________________________________

I think this is one of the hardest ones I've worked on hope you guys enjoy!!

@the-second-tonks

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foodieforthoughts · 3 years

Text

Show Me the Light

Summary: She recently moved to Minneapolis and is a newly appointed sports teacher at Southern Cross High School, wanting to live life away from the big city of New York. On the first week of her arrival she (almost) crashes into Detective Walter Marshall which leads to his and her life being intertwined there on. It is not your regular meet-cute story but rather a tug of war between two people from opposite spectrum of life.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Myra King)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: A slight description of a possible accident, smut in the future chapters.

A/N: Hello! After watching "Nomis" for the second time, I really started to feel the urge to write about our grumpy Detective Walter Marshall. I don't want to make it all angst, so bear with me if the OFC seems too cherry to be in the movie. Also, I do not want to face tag her, so let your imagination run free.

**Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist**

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Title: Show Me the Light

Walter slammed the manilla folder on his desk, exasperated with the dead ends to the present case at hand. He stretched his arms in front of him, feeling his neck become stiff with the cold and his goddam posture was killing him.

"Dad?" Faye peaked in, draped in a shawl with her toothbrush in her hand.

"Are you going to bed now?" Walter's voice came out sterner than he intended to.

"No, I'm getting ready to go to school." She pointed towards the window in his office. Faint light of the rising sun was casting a glow from behind the curtains. "Did you stay awake the whole night?" She innocently asked.

Walter rubbed his eyes. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed since he had grabbed the case file last night. He had become so invested in it, he had completely missed bedtime. 'Not that sleep is important anyway.' He grunted, feeling the sore muscles in his back stretch as he stood up.

"I can call mom to drop me to school." His daughter offered. Her small frame looked tiny enveloped in her grey shawl, her nose pink with the cold.

"No, I'll just get some coffee. Have to go to the station anyway." Walter grunted again as he stretched his neck, rubbing a tender spot. "Go get ready."

He watched as his daughter retreated with a concerned look. Walter loved having his daughter around but it was mostly because he could keep one of his concerns at bay by keeping an eye on her. Grabbing his gun from the drawer and his badge lying on top of his table, he made his way downstairs to fix himself some strong coffee. He could feel the tiredness lingering in his muscles, but he had a job to get done. When he took the pledge to serve the public, he wholeheartedly meant it.

"So we got a new sports teacher." Faye pulled on her seat belt and buckled it over her body.

"What happened to the previous one?" Walter started the engine of his truck, the hunk of metal humming and warming in the cold. He let it run for a couple of seconds, rubbing his hands together as it touched the cold steering wheel.

"I don't know. He got old?" Faye chuckled.

Walter spared a smile. His daughter, the light of his life, made it a little less harder to live in this cruel world. They pulled out on the street and made their way towards the school.

It had snowed heavily last night. The sun shone brightly on the white landscape, making the snow twinkle like crystal. It was already peak office hour and thankfully Faye's school was not deep inside the city. Walter took out his sunglasses from his glove compartment, as the glint of the sun on the snow and the car windows were making his head hurt.

"Um... Dad? Is that coming our way?"

Walter looked up, squinting at the road as Faye pointed out in front of her. A black figure on a bike, the sound of its exhaust rumbling through the street and the metal parts shining in the sun, was making it's way towards them. The speed at which they were travelling and the slight tilting of its wheels from side to side hinted that the rider was losing it's balance.

"Oh, fuck!" Walter gripped his steering wheel tightly as the bike zoomed past his truck, barely missing the edge of the hood, and skidded along the slippery road to crash against the mount of ice gathered on the side. His truck made a grumble, the tires screeching as it tried to get a grip on the asphalt, coming to a jolting halt.

"Dad!" Faye had gripped her seat belt bracing for impact. "Oh my God! Are they alright?" She turned to look behind, watching the rider on the ground a few feet away from the bike.

"Are you okay?" Walter looked at his daughter. A whiplash injury was the last thing he wanted his daughter to suffer from. When Faye hurriedly nodded at him, his anger grew as he growled and opened his door to jump out and catch a hold of the irresponsible person who nearly crashed into him.

***

She was running late. Her second day on her job and she was freaking late.

Myra had hopped on her bike, chugging the last of her veggie smoothie and placing the bottle on the side pocket of her bag. Her brilliant black Benelli 900 SEI had looked stunning as always. She had dusted the few sprinkles of snow laying on it's tank, before kissing the cold metal handle bars.

"Don't disappoint me today, okay? You have been good so far." She had smiled at her bike dearly, remembering she still had to get it checked by a professional because of all the transportation it had had to go through. The sweet sound of its powerful engine coming to life, the exhaust emitting a rumble as she had revved it up a little, had made her heart swell.

Everything was working out fine. The city roads had been bustling with cars, but she had zoomed past them. Even though her bike belonged from the 70s, it still worked like a fine piece of metal. She had worn her faithful leather jacket, her biking gloves sat snuggly against her skin providing warmth in the cold weather.

Somewhere around the suburban part of the city, nearer to the school she worked at, her bike started to give off a clicking sound. Myra pressed on the breaks, feeling her speed coming down a little and her tires beginning to wobble on the road.

"Oh, fuck. No, no... " She prayed as the braking system seemed to be giving up on her. Her accelerometer showing her speed still above 20 mph. She was already crossing the speed limit inside the suburban region and was unable to do anything about it.

Her eyes widened as she spotted a big truck coming her way. She pressed down hard on the breaks, but she knew a crash was imminent now. Her eyes scanned about trying to look for an escape bay, spotting a heap of snow on the side of the road.

"Oh, God!" She turned her handle abruptly, missing the oncoming vehicle by mere inches, and let go of her bike as it skidded along the road and crashed on the snow. She slipped on the gravel for a couple of feet, trying to hold onto something to stop herself but failing miserably.

Myra groaned as she came to a halt, her head bumping against the road but saved by the helmet. Her heart raced like it was going to come out of her chest. Her feet and hands had gotten cold from the fear of crashing into the car, her breathing coming out ragged. She blinked several times, looking up at the sky through her black tinted glass hood of her helmet, swallowing the dryness in her throat.

"Hey!" Myra felt herself being yanked up by the collar of her jacket and came face to face with an angry, curly haired man. His eyebrows were scrunched together tightly and his lips, under the bush of his beard, was upturned in a sneer. "What the fuck just happened there?"

The zipper of her jacket dug at her throat, her feet dangling from the ground. The man was huge and powerful to have lifted her body up like she was nothing but a ragged doll. Myra placed her hands on his, trying to choke out a word. The insulated cover of her helmet and the air getting blocked from her throat was making her difficult to form words.

"W-wait... " She tried to speak but felt her lungs were straining for oxygen. The sound of the police siren made the burly man finally let go of her. She dropped to the ground on her knees, gasping for air and pulling her helmet off. She coughed as she leaned on the ground, placing her hands on the road breathing in through her mouth.

"Miss King?"

Myra looked up at the tiny voice of a girl coming from behind her. She recognized the girl from her class yesterday. Myra had helped her correct her posture while aiming for the goal when they had played soccer.

"You know her?"

The bearded man from before who had held her by the collar asked angrily. Myra looked over at him, his arms crossed over his chest, straining the fabric of his sweater over his muscles. She looked down at his waist and noticed the police badge clipped on his belt, his gun cocked in it's holster. She sat back on her knees, looking from one person to another.

"Yes! She's our new sports teacher."

Myra felt her cheeks heat as the grumpy man and the two police officers that had arrived later, looked down at her. Her gaze fell on her bike some few feet away, the hazy grey colour of smoke emiting from it, contrasting against the white sheet of snow.

"Take her to the station. Keep her there until I come back." He grumbled to the other two officers, throwing her a look of disgust and walking away with the girl behind her.

"Come on, Miss. Inside the car."

With a grunt from her aching muscles and joints, Myra stood up clutching her helmet in her hand and followed the men as they lead her to the police cruiser.

'Bloody fucking great!' She silently mumbled to herself as she sat on the backseat of the cruiser and watched the black truck she was going to crash into, drive away.

Tags: @wanderlustkitkat @michelehansel @stephartrave @yuhsophie @hennerslionhat @henrythickcavill @eldarwen333 @peakygroupie @klaine-92 @thelastsock @indigosaurus @oddsnendsfanfics @viking-raider @cavillliketravel @geralt-of-baevia @achaoticaugust @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @luclittlepond @mansaaay @agniavateira @inlovewithhisblueeyes @henryobsessed @henryfanfics101 @poucinette1333 @ohmygoodie @oolicity @luclittlepond @momowhoo @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @asyverson @singeramg @supersweetstache @demivampirew @cavills-cavalry @raspberrydreamclouds @ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover @fuckoffbard @filmforb @thiccgeralt @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @iloveyouyen @inthenameofcavill @madbaddic7ed @b-j-d @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @henchry @feralrunaway @ohjules

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fanfic #Show me the light series

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sanokisses · 4 years

Text

Too Much to Drink

| Carlos Oliveira x Reader |

prompt: the reader has too much to drink and Carlos looks after her like the good boyfriend he is.

word count: 1,664

a/n: Also guys, I'd be glad to take any requests if you have any! I love writing for this fandom!

You honestly don't know how you got outside the bar in your state but to be fair, it was really loud and hot in there. Too many bodies and ridiculously loud music soon began to make you feel anxious. Fresh air was definitely needed. The streets and sidewalks were empty for the most part and the city lights lit up the streets quite beautifully. You could still hear the blaring music faintly through the thick brick walls but nonetheless the cool city breeze felt amazing on your skin.

Where was he? You missed him. You rummaged through your purse and finally pulled out your phone. It quickly unlocked it due to the facial recognition feature, the tiny bit of soberness in you silently thanked your phone because there was no way you could enter a password right now.

"Hm, mm, mm~" You hummed to yourself as you focused very hard on your phone screen. It took a couple minutes because your vision was blurred and in double, but there it was, the contacts app.

"Found you.." You were quick to find his number. Drunk or sober you knew the contact you were looking for the name was unmistakable.

"💞💓 Carlos 💕💘"

You clicked on his name and put the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he answered.

"Hello?" He answered. His deep voice making you feel giddy inside and you unintentionally let out a tiny excited gasp. "Babe? I thought you were out with your friends, why you calling me?" He asked.

"Carlos." You hummed happily as you slightly stumbled against the brick wall.

"Yes?" He asked through a chuckle.

"I miss you." You whined and rested your head on the brick wall you were leaning on.

"How much did you have to drink tonight?" Carlos questioned almost getting cut off by your quickness to reply.

"You didn't say I miss you-" You hiccuped. "-back."

"I miss you too, sweetheart." He said. "How much did-"

"I wanna go home." You said suddenly feeling sad. All you wanted was Carlos right now.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked.

"Yes, please." Your voice was soft.

"Alright, I'm on my way." You smiled and hung up your phone.

"(Name)! We were looking everywhere for you!" Voices called out to you. You looked to see your friends practically running towards you from the club's entrance.

"It was hot in there." You pouted as they stood in front of you.

"Did you call Carlos?" Your blue haired friend, Savanna asked while she smoothed out your hair and fixed your lipstick that was slightly out of place. She was always the motherly one that looked after you and quite frankly the one that freaked out the most when everyone realized you were missing.

"Mhm!" You nodded happily making your friends giggle and laugh.

"Girl, you already know she did. If I had a man that looked like that I would call him 24/7." Your tallest friend, Tyler said making everyone laugh.

"Tyler, enough out of you." Your third friend laughed. "Honestly (Name), we were scared. How were we supposed to tell Carlos we lost you?" She laughed again.

"Aisha's right. So he could body slam us? No ma'am." Tyler said causing everyone to erupt in laughter.

A couple minutes passed by of everyone joking around until a familiar car pulled up on the side of the pavement. You immediately got excited when you saw your boyfriend step out of the car and his eyes landed onto you. He shut the driver's door and walked over to you. He was wearing black jeans, a black V-cut shirt and a leather jacket.

"Carlos!" Your lazily leaped to the tall man and wrapped your arms around his neck losing your balance while reaching for him. Carlos caught you and immediately held your hips steadying you in place.

"Easy there, tiger." Carlos studied your state with an amused expression. You were swaying and very much out of it.

"How much did you drink tonight?" Carlos asked slightly amused but still concerned.

"A lot." Your voice was slightly muffled as you happily cuddled up to his chest. You lost track after your 4th jello shot, but in your defense they "weren't that strong" so it was okay to keep downing them.

"A lot?" He chuckled. You shot your head up to look at him.

"Yup! A whoolee lot!" Your eyes were closed accompanied with a loopy smile.

"Alright, let's get you home." Carlos looked up from you to your friends and smiled.

"Thank you guys." He said politely.

"It's no problem. Take good care of her!" Savanna said.

"Bye, (Name)! Love you."

"We love you."

"Stay safe, babe!"

To you, the seemingly disappeared but Carlos saw that they just walked across the street to their car and pulled off. With ease he shifted you to his side wrapping his arm around your waist helping you to his car. Opening the passenger door he made sure you got in safely not bumping your head on the top of the car. You watched him lean over you to buckle your seat belt when a fabulous idea popped in your mind.

"Baby, can we get a slushie?" You asked with your hands clasped and a hopeful look on your face.

"I really want one. A big one!" The seatbelt clicked.

"Please, babe?" Your hands found their way to Carlos' face turning his attention to you but not before squishing his cheeks together.

"You're gonna make yourself sick." He said.

"Am not." You pouted.

"Look, how 'bout we go to the park tomorrow and get some then. Sound good?" He proposed.

"Mhm~" You smiled and hummed at the idea.

The entire car ride home you kept his free hand in yours. Your favorite thing to do was compare his hand size to yours. Taking his hand and placing it up to yours. His long fingers seemed to keep you occupied for the time being. That and the pretty city lights you would sometimes glance up at through the window. Every once in a while Carlos would glance over at you to see if you were okay. Eventually you both made it to your apartment safely. Carlos helped you out the car and into your apartment. As soon as he opened the door he was greeted with a sweet smell.

Your apartment was homey. Fairy lights, potted plants and always a lingering smell of something incredibly sweet due to the wax melters you had around the place. It was always a cozy vibe at your place. Its the complete opposite from Carlos' apartment. You always buy him cute little decorations to out around the place but he always leaves them in one spot.

Carlos helped you down the hallway to your bedroom and sat you down on the edge of your bed. He kneeled in front of you and took off your heels one by one and sat them to the side.

"I'll be back." He stood up and looked at you. "Be still." He said before disappearing into the hallway. You stood up rather quickly and almost lost your balance but after recovering you stripped of everything but your underwear and rummaged through your dresser to find something to sleep in. Eventually you decided on a old oversized band shirt you're not really sure where you got it from. You stumbled your way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. You still had makeup on and it felt incredibly heavy on your skin.

"Babe?" Carlos called for you from the bedroom.

"In here.." You replied softly.

"What are you doin'?" He stood in the doorway holding something but you weren't paying much attention, all you cared about was getting this makeup off.

"'m taking off my makeup.." You rubbed your face with the tissue.

"With dry toilet paper? Goddam, (Name). Let me help you out." He said.

You sat on the ottoman in the bathroom crisscross style watching your boyfriend in contentment as he looked for your makeup remover through the tons of product you left scattered on your vanity station before you left to the club earlier that night. He didn't know much about cosmetics but he knew enough to know that it was bad to try to wipe off makeup with a dry tissue.

"Think I found them." He said and took a couple wipes out the pack before turing back to you.

"C'mere.." Carlos held your chin up to gently wipe your face removing the makeup from your face. You felt slightly more aware from the sudden coldness on your face due to the wipes cooler temperature against your warm flushed skin. You were starting to grow more and more sleepy as time went on and the attention from Carlos wasn't helping either but you weren't complaining.

"I'm sleepy, Carlos." You looked up at him with lidded eyes and he smiled softly as he caressed your cheek.

"I know, I know, baby." He turned to the vanity counter once more to get something.

"Take these and drink this first then we can go to bed." He said and held out his hands. In his palm he held two pills of pain relievers and the other hand held a glass of water. You took the pills from his hand and placed them in your mouth and quickly downed the medicine with the water handing him the water back after.

"No. Drink all of it." Carlos said gently pushing the water back up to your lips. You wanted to whine but there was no arguing with him right now. He was in full caretaker Carlos mode. You sulked as you had no choice and finished the water. He took the glass from your hands placing it on the counter.

"Alright. Bedtime." He said as he helped you stand up.

"Can we cuddle?" You asked looking up at him hopefully.

"Of course." He smiled and kissed your forehead.

#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira x reader #resident evil 3 #resident evil #carlos x reader resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #claire redfield #jill valentine #x reader #requests are open #re3 #re3 carlos #re3 remake #re3 jill

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harveywritings92 · 4 years

Text

DMC BOYS: They find out you're an assassin [Assassin's creed crossover.]

Dante: It was supposed to be a simple bodyguard job, a bunch of old dudes were having some super villain-ish meeting and one of them hired Dante to guard him, the devil was a little vague on the details all he remembered was the guy saying he'll pay upfront! And like that Dante blocked whatever else was said...

to sum it up someone wants the old guy dead and Dante just there to make sure he doesn't croak, simple enough he can do that... what he couldn't do was kill the assassin who just killed his client...

She was his girlfriend.

Dante's mind replayed the scene over again: one second the old fat geezer is drinking whiskey and being chatted up by a call-girl, Dante gets distracted by one of the strippers, next thing he knows there's a shriek! the half-devil whipped his head in the direction of the commotion and saw his client looking at another old man in a dark suit in shock, his hand was clamp securely around his neck all in a vain attempt to stop the blood from seeping from his slashed throat he fell forwards and his assailant was revealed standing behind him.

They were a woman in a fav/c hooded jacket with some sort of retractable blade attached to her wrist, he could see tiny smirk grace the woman's lips as she stared across the club room at same old man who Dante assumed was the big boss behind this meeting, and another target on this won's list...

Dante grimaced and took a step forwards only to freeze when the familiar scent of his girlfriend's perfume caught his nose through the blood and booze, then he saw those eyes the half-devil knew them well the second they looked through the crowd at him, he was soon snapped out of his shock by the big boss boss bellowing "Get her! tear that dog apart!?" soon the y/ht woman was surrounded by armed men; Y/n took them down like they were nothing and seemed to be having fun with it before making a quick get away, he last saw her run out through one the exits.

He chased her just in time to see her jump off the roof and land in the back of a dump truck filled with leaves waiting in the street before the truck drove off into the night, needless to say Y/n was in for a major what the hell fest when she got home.

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

Nero: Anger was the first thing that crossed his mind, then betrayal he thought he knew you and that you could trust him with anything, but him finding out you were a killer? that's been fighting a goddam centuries old war, he didn't know what to think! how he found out in the first place was that you had gotten hurt and he was contacted against your wishes.

He demanded to know what happened? you had lied claiming you fell down some stair. "Stairs don't stab peopl-" Nero too a breath "Y/n you better tell me what's going on, or I'm walking out that door and I'm not coming back." you looked at him stunned hoping this was an empty threat but he was dead serious.

You kept your mouth shut but the second he took a step towards the door you sighed "Wait." Nero turned to look at you gestured for him sit down, and like that it was like dam had opened Nero sat and he listened, you told him of the creed, the artifacts of Eden, Abstergo and your involvement the more upset he looked, he silently left you alone claiming he couldn't be here. he had to think, after few hours he came back and paused when he heard a male voice talking to you...

Nero swallowed his inner demon growled hearing an unknown male in your room. "I don't think it's a good idea to be using the animus in your condition." You snapped at the guy the shut up you're gonna be stuck here for a week might as well do something other than mope about destroying the best relationship you've ever had in a while. "okay, your good go."

Nero silently walked in without either of you noticing him and saw you hooked up to some oculus looking thing and this surfer looking guy looking over a screen, suddenly he jumped back at the sound of a pot shattering. "What the hell?!" you exclaimed as the guy chuckled. " I think ..uh-oh think Amir's wife Esha just found out he's an assassin she not taking it to well" he laughed nervously keeping a hand on his chest as Nero came up behind him to watch the scene, You grumbled something under your breath as a woman angrily shouting in Hindi filled the hospital room as more pottery in thrown.

"Esha, please calm down, mera Pyaar!*my love*" a man pleaded as the woman snarled.

"Don't you Mera Pyaar me! Five years we've been married and you kept this from me, How dare you?!"

"Look I didn't want to keep you - [dodges a vase.] please stop throwing things at me!"

"I should've listened to my brother when he said there was off about you! kameene!*Bastard*" *About to throw another vase*

Amir catches her arms pushes her toward a wall "I was just trying to protect you dammit!" he snapped Esha tried to say she didn't need to be protected because her father but Amir cuts her off. "Can do nothing, these men and their order have been on earth as long as my creed has, they have more power then your family combined and they to destroy free will as we know it..." the door behind them sudden broke down to reveal a British man and few heavily armed guards.

Esha who was still enraged shoved Amir aside, demanding they leave their house did they know who her father was? he'll hear about this- she was cut off by the men laughing at her before dropping the bomb. "On her who do you think told us where to find your husband?" the Indian woman's fell in shock and started shaking her head in disbelief next thing that happened, a cloth was tied around her mouth as the smoke quickly filled the room the sounds of fighting started Amir quickly started dragging his shell shock wife out of their home …

The sequence ended as you sighed waiting for the next one to load "that is exactly why I didn't want to tell Nero, one slip up, one loose end and the Templars could find him, Kyrie or the kids and use them to hurt me." The y/ht huffed wincing as she tried to pull herself up, and failed nearly falling off the bed luckily a pair a arms caught her and sat her up right.

"urg... Thanks Wally." Y/n's heart sank into her feet when she heard Wally voice on the other side of her room. "uh.. That not me N/n." the ginger man said sheepishly while adjusting his glasses as the familiar scent of Nero's cologne caught her nose, Y/n cautiously lifted up the Animus visor off her eyes to find Nero staring at her.

the y/nat woman's stomach tightened and her face felt hot as a tense silence filled the air, before Nero spoke up pretty saying that her reasons for hiding this life from him were the exact same reasons he keeps her away from Devil hunting to protect her.

He sighed knowing there was no way talking her out of the creed like he had planned, but Nero urged her not to get killed and not to hide things from him anymore... Y/n promised then Nero sheepishly asked if she'd put the Animus back on? because he kind of wants to see what will happen to Amir and Esha.

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

Vergil: Like Dante he was hired by a shady old man to protect him, what he didn't expect was to be thrown into a special security called alpha squad filled with a bunch of arrogant humans who pointed a laughed at the white haired weirdo and using a sword in this day and age! Vergil ignored them seeing as this was just a temporary gig, and he'll never see them again.

Of course nothing would prepare him for what happened next, alarms were blaring and the were bodies littering the hallways, Vergil examined as he went along noting that they alpha squad members and they'd been stabbed or had their throats slashed...

It was Ironic that they died this way the more he thought about it, he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his employer yelling at someone to back off.

Vergil looked around the corner to see his employer and a hooded man with a strange blade on his wrist the two were engaged within a conversation while Vergil silently approached.

"I had dream about you Mr. Vesta."

"aww...how sweet, too bad you're not my type!"

"In my dream you never made it out the Paris Catacombs alive..."

"What can I say? I too stubborn to die!"

Vergil was just about to strike when the three were interrupted by an explosion, "Why Hello, Partner!" Vesta happily greeted the woman cautiously walked into the courtyard, Vergil felt a chill go down his spine as a familiar shouted at the man. "Jason, we have to go!" Vesta shook his head keeping eyes on the old man. "We can't let them find the box."

The woman took a an aggressive stance not liking that answer "Screw that, I killed half of Alpha squad and destroyed the map, let's get out while we can!" footsteps were heard rushing down the alley, her partner growled in frustration finally complied with her. "See ya in your dreams old man.." Vesta jeered then threw a smoke bomb he and his partner ran from the scene being chased by Vergil.

Who caught up to them fairly quickly he knocked out the man and got a hold of the woman pulling her hood off confirming his suspicions. "Y/n what's meaning of this?" he hissed coming face to face with his gobsmacked girlfriend. "Only to be interrupted by remnants of Alpha squad, who ordered him to hold her down! Without a word Vergil used summoned swords on the men causing them to scatter.

before using the Yamato to open a portal; he threw Vesta over his shoulder and he and Y/n rushed through it landing in Nero's garage, the portal closed as Vergil dropped the passed out man none too gently onto the floor then turned his girlfriend who had a lot of explaining to do.

#devil may cry #dmc x reader #Vergil sparda #Dante Sparda #Nero Sparda #Nero x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #devil may cry fanfiction #Assassin's Creed #crossover fanfiction

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regulusfate · 3 years

Text

Soldier, I can’t love you [ but I do ]

Part Two

ship: nottpott — harry x theo

word count: 3586

tw: injuries, mentions of death, swearing, war

He missed Tracey. And Millicent. And Blaise.

He missed Pansy’s biting comments if only to keep him on his toes, and her softer touch when his tongue fumbled with his feet on the days his eyes couldn’t keep up.

He had no idea if any of them were alive.

He missed bodies of warmth. Body heat. That’s what he craved the most. Some humanity. Being alone , only the birds reply to his morbid tests of fate.

“There’s a room free.”

Hands are hoisting him up, and he’s back to dangling off Potter's arm, attached to his shoulder - and he’s not sure why that’s important but then, last he’d seen Terry Boot, the man only had one arm, they were always lucky in one way or another.

He would hate being vulnerable, and he does, his skin crawls at little at the eyes of the few figures scattered across the room. He would, except it’s been too long of a fight to care, as long as he survives, they could have his dignity.

Some of it. Not all of it. His pride is one of the few things left.

“Potter,” they’d made it to the bottom step when someone joined them, and Theo wanted to hiss something but his mind wouldn’t cooperate as his foot hit the wood.

“Zach,” something in his voice catches Theo’s attention, rough and scratchy like his growing hair, and tired, but tender.

Smith was alive then. He’d been caught once before, and it was plain on his face, the ripped skin pulled back into scars, the soft blue of his eyes hardened into a storm. He no longer looked like the pompous ass he’d been, he looked like a puppet on Potter’s strings, watching him with the likes of prayer, and Theo found that didn’t scare him.

It should’ve. But it didn’t.

“Hannah’s fever broke. We buried Susan with the others.”

It should’ve surprised him how blunt they were being. But it didn’t.

For a moment he’s not sure Potter’s going to say anything before he reaches out and claps the blonde on the shoulder. Zach sways a little beneath his touch.

“Get some rest.” And then Potter is nodding to someone behind them, and Lily Moon is there tugging Zach away rather roughly, and he hears Thomas pouring a drink.

They had different definitions of rest apparently. Lily Moon. Maybe if she made it, the others had too. Small hopes. But at least they were two slytherins still fighting. Not fighting. Surviving.

Theo lets himself be taken to a room, it seems automatic and so he’s not as surprised as he wants to be, when the small room is definitely Potter’s even if it’s only come and go.

There’s a scent, and a small figurine of a knight that’s sharp edges are tinted red. He doesn’t have to look to know Potter’s palms most likely have matching indents. They all did things to keep themselves from drowning in ghosts. There’s not much to it, they probably all look the same but somehow this one, this ones claimed.

“I need to check your leg.”

Comes the quiet mutter, as he’s deposited on the bed, that’s just about big enough to fit two bodies. There’s a second bed. He thinks. But it remained untouched as Potter moved about the room.

They were dimly lit by candle light but Potter moved automatically, pulling up a loose board to tug out medical supplies, and slipping into the bathroom attached to the room. It’s easy to forget these had once been fully running, occupied places.

Theo doesn’t remember what happened for a good few minutes, as his eyes flash open and he can’t remember closing them, his torso lurching forwards, and he can’t remember leaning back against the headboard.

Potter’s hand steadies his chest absently, and Theo found his eyes drawn to his leg with some morbid curiosity as he finished tying the bandage with the nature of man who’d done this one hundred times over. Swiftly, quickly, and with barely so much as a word.

Theo supposed it would be the same if Potter dealing with his own, alone.

He frowns suddenly.

“Are you not hurt?” It’s a demand really, but the flicker of a smile on Potters lips is what aggravates him.

“I didn’t take a dive down a cliff and drag myself to a cave.” He drawled, and Theo can’t stop the blush on his cheeks, but it might be a fever.

“It was not a cliff, and I did not dive. It was an escape route and it worked.”

He snapped, more of a growl, but he doesn’t have much time to worry about that goddam smile or whatever Potter found so amusing as the raven haired man is leaning over to tug Theo’s jacket off and he freezes.

“What are you doing?”

Potter sighs and steps back to run a hand through his hair. He’s looks as tired as Theo felt, and that question was back on his lips how had he known Theo was there ? what had he been doing ?

“You can’t sleep in those, you need to change.”

If he groans, and is reminded of himself as an eight year old not wanting to go to tutoring, he deliberately ignores it.

“I can do it myself.”

Potter raises an eyebrow, and purses his lips, tossing a bundle of clothes towards him.

“Okay then.” The ‘call me if you need’ is silent but Theo catches it in the simplicity. And he’s moved across the room and back into the bathroom.

The top half was easy enough, though it felt weird to wear the clothes he was given, a t-shirt and what he assumed were rags for jeans. Trying to get them on was harder. It was awkward, and he fumbled, cursing every bloody god under the sun, and had half manoeuvre his way into them when he’s slipping against the wood and catching himself on the bedside table, breathing harshly through the lightheaded wave that struck his head.

His mouth was dry and he liked his lips, clamping his eyes shut.

“Potter,” he rasped and winced, feeling it fall short of anything resembling a word. “Harry.”

Movement, and then quite suddenly a hand, and he feels his head being gently guided downwards, and it’s bumping against a bone, and he takes a breath. Potters collarbone.

He reaches instinctively to steady himself against Potter’s forearm and for a long moment it’s just his heavy breathing echoing through his ears. He doesn’t have the strength to be embarrassed as his leg aches too much and his body shivers, and Potter’s so gentle that it hurts his head to think about.

He’s lying down, and Theo hates it, that it’s a surprise, but at least the bed is soft. There’s a shuffling and he can’t bring himself to open his eyes, and a blow, he knows the light has gone out.

Potter hasn’t left yet, Theo doesn’t know if he will.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

A beat of silence and only their heaving breaths for a moment. Theo winced, but didn’t back down as his lips find the only thing he could quite comprehend with clarity in that moment.

“Because if it’s about the kiss-“

“No it’s not about the damn kiss, I liked the kiss,” his voice cuts through sharply, roughly, before it softens a little “You know that”

And he did, at least, he had hoped so.

“Potter,”

He grunted, and Theo rolled his eyes. He wondered if he was just stood there in the darkness or heading towards the door.

“How did you know I was here?”

This time he does open his eyes, and it’s the way those eyes look at him, their ever gentle green like sloping leaves held above a rock pool, so incredibly tender. And Theo feels his throat close up around the air in his mouth and the words seeking out.

“I was avoiding you, not ignoring you. I had hoped you would be less of a target.” Then Harry is sighing heavily.

“But I thought that about a lot of people.” And look where it’s got them left unsaid.

Theo snorted humorlessly, and cast him a dry glance.

“Because the child of a comedenti fighting for the light isn’t a target?” Sarcasm seeps from his tongue , and he feels his shoulders relax despite the ebbing and surging of pain in his ankle. Something he had not lost, how they saw him was still under his control.

The term death eater was made taboo three years prior. The chose comedenti instead. eater , in latin.

Not very original but then, time is thick and fast like the clinging ghosts, they didn’t have enough of it, time or air. All close to becoming ghosts anyway.

Still, his father was a death eater, and that phrase would forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Did it help?”

For a moment he thinks he’s hearing things, straining his legs and his ears, and there’s a heavy handed thud in the shadows of flesh hitting wood and a grunt.

“Did what help?” He wondered if his leg was bleeding too much. “And would you just get over here.”

He’s snapping before he can stop himself but there was too much noise. Potter sighs again, and Theo scowls, yanking back the covers clumsily. “Get in, I’m cold.”

“I - I don’t know..”

Well Theo didn’t bloody well know either. He flinched, when a body clambered in beside him, and then they’re lying side by side. Potter’s not wet either. But Theo didn’t remember seeing him change. Oh, the bathroom.

“W’re you watchin me?”

Theo felt his voice begin to slur against his lips, hardly a whisper, in the cool darkness pressed into the former Gryffindor’s warmth. He coughs.

“No,” a pause and his eyes are clinging to some final moment of consciousness.

“I had people looking though. Just incase.”

Incase of what ? He’s not sure he wants to know. But still, he’s grateful for Harry.

“You still r‘membr the kiss-?”

“Sleep, Nott.”

It didn’t take much for Theo to obey that command, his body slipping into the gallows of exhaustion.

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #harry potter #theodore nott x harry potter #theodore nott #harry x theo #nottpott #nottpott fanfiction #hp golden era #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding war

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inknopewetrust · 4 years

Note

Hey 👋 could you write something where detective Loki and a female reader have to go undercover and pretend to be dating/married? Idk if detectives actually do this but I just think it’s cute lol. Thank you ❤️❤️ hope you’re well :))

a small distraction

Pairing: Detective David Loki x Female Reader

Word Count: 1318

Warnings: 007 sly and sexy but nothing major.

A/N: I tried to give this maybe a James Bond, noir style feel but I can’t tell you if it worked. Thanks so much for the request! Requests are OPEN! Please see request guidelines for what you need to do to request one or just shoot me a dm and ask! Request guidelines also have who I write for!

“I can’t believe we have to do this.” You sighed and rolled your eyes subconsciously as Loki closed the hotel door behind you, slipping the key into his wallet which found itself inside his suit jacket’s pocket.

“It’s part of the job, L/n. We’re just going to have to get used to it.” He reminded you without any hesitation or waver in his voice to make you believe that he disagreed with what the department has put the both of you up to.

Ever since the two of you left Conyers six years ago, working for the feds has been nothing but an interesting and many times, frustrating experience.

“Loki, I just don’t understand why they always have to dress me down like this? I’m not a goddam hooker and I certainly wouldn’t dress like this to go to a casino.”

“It’s not just any casino, and it’s also a poker game where the target will be. You know Carlton said that it would be a ‘welcome distraction’ for the players and he knows that if I can call a bluff to mess up the game, it will be you who causes the distraction.”

“And that’s not sexist to you?” You asked, flabbergasted as he pressed the down arrow on the elevator.

“Most definitely it is. I didn’t say it wasn’t. And if I were Carlton I would have found a different use for you so you’re more than an object but right now you need to play my wife and we are supposed to be happily married-“

The elevator door opened with a ping and you both stepped inside, Loki closer than he would normally stand and trying to find the undercover character of Mr. John Hackett, your “husband.”

“-so we should probably act like it.”

Unbeknownst to each other, faking it wouldn’t be difficult to do. Friends for a long time but longing love birds for years. You two understood one another like no one else so it was only natural it would evolve into something more, but every time it reached a possible turning point, something happened to mess it up.

“Level 3” the elevator sounded and Loki slipped his hand into yours with ease, as if he had done it a million times before.

“Now, Mrs. Hackett, I would love it if you would accompany me to this poker game.” He said, completely and uncharacteristically not Loki but he played it good.

“Of course. Who could refuse you?”

The game dragged on and on as the night wore thin. You stirred a drink at the bar as Loki continued to sit there across from the con man you were trying to catch. If the agency stormed the casino now it would be all over, you thought to yourself, but of course that would be too easy.

While you sat in your thoughts you neglected to see Loki make his way towards you until he was next to you, his hand slipping around your waist lowly and he head came you rest on your shoulder. It was intimate, unexpected, and yet welcome.

“I know he’s bluffing.” Loki whispered in your ear and you hummed in return.

“This will all be over soon and then we can get out of here and go home. There’s two other agents in the room who will get him on the way out of the building so we are off the hook when the game is done.”

“I guess you didn’t need me after all.” You huffed and pushed your glass away from your hand on the bar. Loki let go and shook his head, his hand raising to call over the bartender.

“Whiskey sour and a dry martini but send them to room 604.” He told him and the man nodded and left to attend to another guest.

“Not yet.” He answers your question and met your eyes in total confidence.

“I’m going to need you to do something for me.”

“And what is that?” You asked him with unease but you trusted Loki with your life, so it couldn’t be anything that put you in danger.

“In about five minutes, the last two players will fold and it will be only us left. I need you to distract him so he loses focus on the game.”

“You said you knew he was bluffing.”

“Yeah I did but the two other players are his incase he loses. I know they’re bluffing to because the other agents have been signaling behind them all night. All I need for you to do is come and wish me a goodnight and good luck and retire to the room, ok?”

“That’s not all, is it?”

“No.”

That’s all you needed to know before he left and returned to the table. In five minutes, just as he said, the two men folded and left the table. You checked the clock on the wall and let out a fake yawn before grabbing your purse and slinking over to your partner in the chair.

Hell, if this wasn’t something you envisioned in a dream, you didn’t know what was.

Loki diverted his attention away from the table to you and suddenly forgot the undercover plan and all he could see was you, his partner, the sexy, beautiful, smart woman he had fallen in love with over the years but had never said anything.

You reached his chair and rested your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently, sweetly, like a wife would. You smiled at the man across from him, the target.

“Sorry to interrupt gentlemen, I just wanted to wish my husband goodnight.”

“It’s not a problem Mrs. Hackett.” The man said and was not sly about taking in your appearance.

“I’m going to bed; I’ve sent up dinner so when your done it will be ready for you.” You told Loki and he nodded, kissing the palm of one of your hands that just made the butterflies in your stomach explode.

“That sounds fine, thank you.” He said and you nodded leaning down and placing a tender kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” You whispered to him quietly with your eyes telling him exactly what he wanted to know.

“I love you.” He almost blurted out and you tried to not look shocked but you felt it on the inside. You smiled gently and kissed him briefly once more with a little more passion in it. In its brief happening, the target was entranced by you so there was enough of a distraction, leaving Loki more than satisfied with both the game and his feelings.

“I love you too.” You said and left the table and went back to the room, knowing full well you both meant what you said.

bonus

As soon as the game was over and Loki new the target was out of the building and in the agency’s hands, he rushed back up to the room where you sat at the small table in the room with the two drinks he ordered and some pastries you had sent up but he was more distracted by the robe you had on and the lack of clothes underneath it.

“It worked?” You asked and he nodded. He came and knelt beside you instead of sitting in the chair and looked at you seriously.

“I meant what I said.”

“I know you did. I did too.”

“Good.”

“Good.” You replied and he made his way back to standing straight but captured your lips with his on the way up, his hands resting on both sides of your face, deepening the kiss almost immediately.

The events of the rest of the night were a good distraction from the events going on in the world because in the middle of the night when you were both sleeping soundly against one another, the phone rang saying the target got away.

#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki x reader #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #imagine #requests #request #bond themed #prisoners 2013

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

Text

Jerkwad (Supernatural)

Demon Dean handcuffed the reader to the bed while they were having sex and leaves them in the hotel room for hours until the maid came. Six months later, the reader comes into contact with him and kicks Dean's ass.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Demon Dean, Sam Winchester, (slight smut, moderate violence)

"You are beyond annoying, Y/S/N. I told you that I'll be fine." "Alright, but if anything happens. Or if something feels off to me, I'm heading over-" I hang up on her and roll my eyes. I sit at the bar with my face in my hands. "Clingy girlfriend?" A deep voice asks.

"Clingy sister," I correct. I hear a faint thud in front of me and see a freshly opened Corona bottle standing in front of me. I look from the bottle and over to the guy. It was then that I realized how attractive this man was. His hair was styled yet messy at the same time. And overall, he dressed like a basic lumber jack. But he's definitely the hottest lumberjack I have ever seen.

"I think I'll pass on that," I say, referencing to the drink. "Why, you think I roofied it or something?" he asked. "Funny how drugging was the first thing that came to mind, huh?" "Sweetheart, I never need a drug to get women to sleep with me." "Well aren't you a blunt one," I say sarcastically.

"I'm Dean," he introduced. "Y/N," I say soon after. We lock eyes for a moment and the next thing I knew, I am pressing my lips on his as he opens the door to his room. His hands slide down my hips and lifts me off the ground by my thighs. He sits down on the bed and buries his face into my chest.

The morning after, I slowly open my eyes to notice that I wasn't in a room that I recognized. My eyes widen as I remember what happened last night. I tried to sit up when I heard feel a tight, burning grip on my hands. I look up at my wrists to see that they were tied to the bed. "What-- are you kidding me?" "Ah, I was kinda hoping you would be asleep for a little while longer," Dean says.

I look over to see Dean putting on his shirt. "Dean, get me out of these cuffs. Now." "Uh, I can't honey. I'm sorry," "Can't my ass. So help me God, get me out of these." I am definitely starting to get aggravated now. "God ain't gonna help you here and I can't because I lost the keys to them." He ruffled his hair and grabbed his jacket. "Maybe you should have thought of that before using them you dip shit!" I snap.

He drapes his jacket over his shoulder and says, "Oo, where was that last night?" "I'm going to kill you," "I would love to see you try, baby." He says with a smile. I hit my head against the wall softly and curse at myself for letting him have sex with me so easily.

"Dean, what in the bloody hell is taking you so-- oh," A gruff, British voice says. I look to see a short brunette man dressed in all black.

"Well hello, love." he greets. "Dean, get me out of these goddam cuffs!" "Now, now, baby, I'm sure you'll get out of them eventually. You look like a sharp tool." He approached me and held my chin before pressing a kiss on my lips. His tongue dipped into the inner lining of my lip and an soft groan left my mouth.

"Catch ya on the flipside, baby." he says before advancing towards the door. "No, wait, Dean. Dean!" He closes the door and I hear his doorsteps descend down the hallway. "Damn it!" The only way I get out of these cuffs is when the maid comes in. And I have no idea when that would be.

I was just coming out of the supermarket when I felt my phone ring. "Hello," I answer as I notice that the call was from Y/S/N. "Hey, so you know I found more information about the lead," she starts. "Alright, and what's so urgent that you had to call me?" "Well I figured that it would be nice to have to some help so I made some calls," "Y/S/N," I warn.

"They're already here so it's pointless to say no," "Jesus, Y/S/N, you can be so annoying," "Love you too, bye!" I roll my eyes as she hangs up and I set the groceries in the backseat before driving back to the hotel. I carry the groceries up the stairs and open the door. I scan the room to see Y/S/N on the right side of table and two men on the other side. The men are fairly tall and all of them have a beer in their hands.

There was an unopened beer sitting on the table, and I'm guessing that's for me. I set the groceries down on the countertop and that's when I noticed that one of the men looked oddly familiar. Really familiar actually. Maybe he's-- oh that son of bitch. "You have the shittiest luck don't you?" I say to Dean. "I'm sorry?" "Don't play dumb, it doesn't look good on you,"

"Y/N, what are you doing? Cut it out." "He was the guy from Arkansas," I explain. "Wh-- really?" "Yes!" "Dude, you're screwed." she says to Dean. I throw my keys on the bed and walk across the room. "Now hold on, I think there's some misunderstanding," The man stands up from the "Sam, stay out of this or you'll end up getting hurt," Y/S/N says.

Without any hesitation, I punch Dean across the face and send him to the floor. I flip the table and kick the chair away from me. "Sweetheart, at least tell me what that was for," "Don't call me sweetheart," I say, shoving him back on the ground. I straddle his waist as I take out my pocket knife. "Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you right here, right now?"

"Well first--" Before he finished his statement, I am grabbed and pressed against the floor. He pried the knife out of my hand and slid it across the floor. "That was rude," he finishes. "Oh, that's rich. You lecturing me about rudeness," He stands from the floor and offered me a hand. I ignore his hand and get up from myself.

"Like I said, misunderstanding," "Bullshit, I remember you clearly." "Im sorry but I don't remember seeing you or your sister," "You bastard," I lungs toward him again but a large pair of arms grabbed me. I elbowed his side and back kicked him to the ground. "Y/N, enough, they get it." "I'm not stopping until he admits it," "Admit what?"

"Dean, don't piss me off." "What, and you're not pissed off right now? I don't know what you wanted me to say. I don't remember you." "Believe me, I would have." he adds as his hazel green eyes racked frame. "Then how else would you explain the night that we slept together and that morning you left me cuffed to the damn bed because you lost the damn keys," I snark.

"I wouldn't do that," "Well you did, jerkwad." "Wait, how long ago was this?" Sam groans as he stands up from the floor. "Six months," I answer. "Oh damn," Dean says. "You had demon Dean," "Demon Dean, are you serious? What, is that your alter ego or something," "Sort of. Listen, it's a long story. But I'm sorry that happened to you. You didn't deserve that," I sigh in defeat and look to Y/S/N to see a smirk on her face. "What?" "You handled that a lot better than I would have,"

"Does anyone have stronger than beer?" I ask, and Dean reaches into his jacket and took out a flask. I look from the flask to him and he hands it to me. I sigh before taking it and opening it. I take a short swig and scrunch my face at the cold, sour liquid made its way down my throat. I take another swig and hand it back to him. "Thanks," "You're welcome,"

I sit on the bed and fall on to it. "I think we should call it a night. We can talk more about this in the morning," Sam says. "I think that's a great idea," Y/S/N says. The brothers advanced to the door and shut it behind them. "Well that was fun," Y/S/N says. "Don't even start," "Dean was cuter than I imagined," she says as she lays down next to me.

"I can't believe that it was his alter ego." "Well how many of the demons that we've hunted were nice," "You've got a point there. I still don't like the idea of working with them," "You're just mad because you still find him cute," I sent her a glare and she adds, "Admit it," "There's nothing to admit. I don't find him cute,"

"Then why did you straddle his waist?" I turn my head to look at her and said, "I really hate you right now,"

#sam and dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #funny #deanmon #demon dean

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foolscapper · 3 years

Note

Spn prompt! I have a HUGE love of incoherent/delirious Sam and panicking/worried Dean, whether it's head injury, curse, blood loss, or dangerously high fever 👉👈

Your wish is my command! It ended up... longer than anticipated... but here you are! Unbeta’d, we die like men. This is weechesters and involves a kid being hurt, so if that’s something that’d bother anyone, feel free to skip over this!

(Posted to Archiveofourown as well.)

Sylvester Sharpe turned from the beat up Ford truck he'd parked on the corner of A Street and Cotton Circle after a voice coolly demanded his attention. The boy that met his critical stare was about half his age — youthful, maybe somewhere between sixteen or eighteen: dirty-blonde hair; strange old necklace; a charcoal black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, darker with sweat around a neckline littered with holes that implied he really loved that goddam shirt. Sylvester furrowed his brow, put out his cigarette on the lip of a truck bed full of trash and beer bottles and stolen shit he'd been selling to good buddies who know a thing or two about loose lips getting busted, and squinted at the boy like he were pea-sized.

"What?" Sylvester said, the clipped sound one of impatience.

"I said," the freckled boy replied back, terse, "Do they call you 'Sly' around here?"

Sylvester snorted, loose-limbed and careless and ready to move on to the nearest liquor store to get a new pack of Marlboros. He turned toward his open truck door to move along. He said, "Yeah, I'm Sly."

The kid lunged, and they were on ground in a few seconds flat.

An old man in an ivy cap walking his dog watched as the teenager started to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

You don't mess around when it comes to concussions. Concussions are traumatic brain injuries — sometimes it doesn't feel like that, because you think "oh, well, they just shook some screws loose; they just have some stars circling around their head, and they'll be fine in a few hours". But real life ain't cartoons.

If there's one thing you could give their old man credit for, it was that he never undervalued a trip to the ER when it came to the safekeeping of his son's brains. Dean had a concussion before, himself. Just before he turned fifteen; got thrown into a wall by a ghost before returning back to their hotel room and vomiting his guts out in a toilet not even worth pissing in. Sam had been about eleven, casting the kindest and most worried shadow over the hunch of Dean's back, rubbing his shoulders and nervously parroting Dad about how he absolutely shouldn't go to sleep, no matter how much he slurred he wanted to.

Dad looked up the nearest ER and drove him down.

The nurses had to stand there with their mouths in a thin, concerned line while Dean rambled on and on about how he'd caught a Chupacabra in a giant net once in Texas and ganked a vampire last week in Pasadena. And, of course, Dean also asked where Sam was — over and over and over and over — until Sam had to lean forward in his waiting room chair and wave at him, a constant reminder that he hasn't been left behind anywhere. Sam had tired lines around his mouth, then, and worry in his eyes that had been overcast with exhaustion. That's one of the few things Dean could remember about that night. Just thinking, 'Man, Sammy, why you look so tired?'

If he hadn't been so fucking concussed, the answer'd be obvious.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

Stuck in some half-dead town in Nevada in the summer of '95, Dean was more than a little restless; Dad had left them to go wipe a vampire nest a few small towns south, and apparently Dean hadn't been "big britches" enough to handle a hunt of that scope yet. Which was total horseshit, because he was sixteen; he could outdrink any old chump at the bar and he'd gotten a kill list so long that it rivaled a suburban mom's grocery list.

They settled into an apartment with no furniture save for a two-seated couch and some mattresses — and exactly two months worth of rent covered with no plans to renew — but at least it also had a television with a few channels, too. Sweating from the heat, he traded the urge to hunt with the privilege of kicking up his feet and watching The People's Court. School had ended an hour or so before, but Sammy'd stayed behind for some extracurricular club he'd been practically vibrating to join, and Dean had no plans to shoot it down while Dad wasn't around to comment on it.

There was a small struggle at the front door to unlock it, and Dean listened with a quirked eyebrow.

"You forget how human hands work, Stuart Little?"

The door creaked open a fraction in response, and then stayed that way for a moment. Through the sliver of open air, Dean heard a small sob that made his stomach fall through the couch, and as he swung himself up onto his feet Sam walked through the door and nearly right into him — it was easy to see why, because his right eye was completely swollen shut, purpled and shiny. Dry blood clung under his nose and matted one side of his head, and he swayed on his feet when Dean's hands jolted out to grab his shoulders. The kid's backpack was nowhere to be seen. Probably dropped and abandoned.

"Sam. Sammy." His hand reached to touch, and he found the bloody, clumped hair hid a lump the size of a golf ball, split and oozing. The kid shuddered with pain, and tears continued to leak down one side of his face. The fear mutates and splits off, leaving a new, fresh wave of emotion: fury. This isn't a monster. These aren't claw marks or some bruise caused by a furious ghost. Some punk-ass kids must have jumped him at the school and left him like this. And his brother walked all the way back here like that. He would even bet they aren't Sam's age. Sam wouldn't have let them do this without a hell of a fight.

He could barely stop the snarl of his lips, the cold calmness. "... Sam, who did this?"

"I don't..." Sam licked his lips, looking around like he wasn't sure where he was. Garbled words took time to form with a tied tongue. Dean could bet if he peeled the other eye open, the pupils would be mismatched in size. "I don't remember. I'm... I don't know. Dean."

The fury had to wait. He moved to walk Sam to the couch, planted him there and squeezed his brother's shoulder; another cold wave of outrage washed over him when Sam winced in pain, like something was hurt there, too. "It's okay. It's okay, little brother, just don't move. I'm going to clean you up, and we're gonna — get you to the urgent care. You hear me? It'll only take a minute."

He got the first aid from the bare kitchen cabinet, dug around for all the things he'd been familiar grabbing any time Dad had gotten his bell rang. He fumbled with the supplies with all the grace Sam had opening the front door. Uttered a sorry before he carefully pressed the gel icepack to Sam's eye. The other eye locked onto him, red and wet, glazed with delirium.

"Dean," Sam wept, and Dean had to focus hard to make out what he was saying: "Dean, I think I'm dead... I tried to find help, but nobody — nobody stopped... I think they can't see me. I think I'm a ghost."

Jesus. Yeah, the kid was concussed. Bad.

"No way. Not my little brother. Never gonna let that happen." His smile was strained as he grabbed Sam's wrist and raised the hand to the boy's own face. "Ghosts aren't big on crying, right? The salt would burn like a bitch."

"Dean..."

"Yeah?"

"My ears're weird... Sounds weird," he admitted weakly, like he'd done something wrong.

"It's okay, dude. You're concussed."

"... Oh." Sam sat for a moment. Looked around the small, unlived space. The People's Court was moving into a commercial. "Dean... Don' tell Dad. Don't tellem I messed up."

Dean pressed a palm to Sam's chest, his thumb gently rubbing the hill of his collarbone to soothe him. Usually about now they'd be wrestling over some stupid fight, or he'd be getting him into a headlock to test his reflexes, or Sam'd be throwing pencils at him for interrupting his train of thought at the kitchen table.

"You didn't mess anything up. I promise." It was a Herculean effort to keep his hands soft and caring, because all they wanted to do now was rip someone to pieces. He was gonna. As soon as Sam was good, he was gonna split his knuckles knocking someone's teeth out. He was gonna paint the dirt with it. Gonna blacken both eyes and bleed both nostrils and break a few things in someone's body.

... But only after making sure Sammy'd be alright.

Sam was missing a backpack and about forty bucks in money he'd earned from mowing lawns for the balding, dorky librarian living across the street. That same librarian ushered the boys into the back seat of her Sedan and made a beeline for the nearest ER. With Sam leaning against him, his knobby elbow jutting into his ribs, Dean answered a question nervously asked from the driver's seat.

"I don't know who did it. But I'm real good at hunting down whatever I got to."

**************** **************** **************** ****************

There was a gratifying sound of Sylvester's skull hitting the side of his own truck after Dean threw him into it headlong. Storming forward, he doesn't hesitate to pick Sly back up by his flannel jacket to do it all over again. "Taking from the grown-ups not good enough for you?! You think you can fucking steal from kids, huh?! Think you can beat up some kid a third your size, huh?! You fuck—"

Wheezing, Sylvester tried to drag himself up into the driver's seat of his truck, a feeble effort to escape his punishments. A small crowd from a barbershop across the street formed, but kept their distance — older ladies mostly who knew better than to put their hands between a dog fight. Dean ignored them to grab Sylvester by the front of his collar and hoist him a foot up from the seat he'd slumped on. Their faces were inches apart, so that he could look into hazel eyes seeing red. "If I ever see you again, I'mma kill you. Do you understand? Do I make myself clear? I'll sleep like a baby after."

Sylvester didn't reply, but he did moan in pain, and Dean considered that an answer. He dropped him and stepped over his heaving chest with dust-stained boots to retrieve a backpack out of the truck bed. Then he reached into the man's jean pocket with swelling knuckles, digging more than forty dollars out of the billfold he finds there and shoving the wad into his own pocket. Then he chucked the rest of the wallet across the unleased dirt field.

"Go fuck yourself," Dean said finally, and left just as he'd come.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

Dean and Sam could barely fit on the apartment's couch together, legs crammed together under a quilted blanket while the television had cast an ever-changing glow over them. Sam's face was still a mess of Dean's least favorite colors, but now he could see both of his eyes, and that helped loosen the knot in his stomach. John had been called from the ER, told the story from front to back, and he filled the teenager with grim vindication when he complimented Dean's recent successful hunt.

The verdict: a 24-hour observation in the hospital, during which John Winchester strode in to keep vigilant watch over Dean as he kept vigilant watch over Sam; he hadn't stopped watching him since they'd gotten home after, either. Dean could hear his father's snores through the door into the one bedroom. Who knows when the last time Dad slept had been; he'd come straight back from the end of the destroyed vamp nest, no pitstops.

"... Dean?" Sam asked after him, wearily. If he had a nickel for every time the boy said it today, he'd be a millionaire. But there was an awareness in Sam's eyes this time that had been frighteningly missing earlier, as he stared at him from across the short couch. In the ER, it had taken a lot of coaxing and promising that Sam wasn't as dead as he'd thought he was, and now Dean was very confident he finally believed it a day late and a dollar short.

"Yeah?"

"Your hands."

He glanced down at the bruised, scraped up knuckles, and just shook his head at the sight of Sam's apprehension; he hadn't told Sam exactly what happened, but his brother was smart. Smarter than most people who came and went in their lives. Smarter than Dean had ever felt he could be. He sighed as he flexed his hands. "Don't worry. I'm not going to jail for murder or anything. Just... rest, okay?"

Sam's chin sunk into the blanket. Not appeased, but relenting.

The battered kid mumbled, "You're the one who looks tired," then he smiled in that way that made Dean regret his bleeding heart. Dean's mouth opened for a moment, then closed. He played it off as best he could, but the rough emotion in the way he glanced aside and rubbed a hand down his mouth was hardly subliminal. "Yeah, well. Sometimes worrying too much is exhausting, dude."

Sam bit his lip. "I'll try not to worry you as much, then."

Dean reached out, patted the bony knee near his.

"... I might have to hold you to that."

But really? He would never.

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #preseries #spn prompts #spn fanfic #hurt!sam #hurt/comfort #warning for injured child!!!

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ofwizardsandmen · 5 years

Text

I like me better when I’m with you

Characters: Tara Lee, Mark Yang, Tyler Lee (briefly).

Word count: 3,9k

Genre: angst, fluff

OST: Ed Sheeran - Hearts Don't Break Round Here

A knock on the door interrupts Tara from staring soullessly at the screen of her laptop. It’s only been a couple of hours since she left the Yang Residence and yet she has completely lost track of time. She can’t remember how long she’s been sitting on her bed, wrapped in a duvet, but the memories of her conversation with Mark are all vague and hazy, like scenes from a Frank Capra film.

Yet, it is probably the hopeful melodies or the fact Julie Andrews’ sweet innocence in The Sound of Music always manages to put her in a good mood, but Tara almost feels like she’s been transported to some benevolent alternate universe where she’s just a regular Oxford student chilling at home on a summer night and procrastinating her summer school paper for Medieval Literature.

There are no boys.

No magic.

No famous ex-boyfriend or fake fiancé.

It is just Tara and her muggle musical.

“I’m fine, Ty” Tara whines as Captain von Trapp walks into Maria’s room and finds his children singing along My Favorite Things. “Go to sleep!” Mentally cursing at her brother for disturbing her hardly-found peace of mind, Tara pulls the fluffy duvet tighter under her chin.

Another knock

Tara lets the duvet fall to her shoulders, feeling as though she doesn’t have the strength to deal with anything right now.

“Ty, seriously…” she utters wearily. “I want to be alone-”

“I’m coming in” A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to her brother announces.

A second later, the door gapes open and Tara’s ex-boyfriend walks in, closing the door behind him.

Mark’s presence catches Tara off guard. From all the people she could’ve expected to see, her ex looking aggravatingly good was definitely not on top of her list, so she nearly chokes in her inhale.

With her heart picking up, Tara pauses the movie and then holds on to the duvet tightly. Almost as if her life depended on it.

And yes. It is a life-threatening situation if you consider that Tara can’t imagine a greater humiliation than letting Mark see the sweatshirt she’s wearing beneath. It is one of the many clothes she had raid from his closet during her last visit to Seoul, claiming that she would use them whenever she missed him.

Why did she have to be so freaking ridiculous? That is beyond Tara understanding, but now, letting him see that goddammed sweatshirt on her would be yet another moral defeat on the same day. Not to mention it would be downright mortifying.

“Hey” Mark stands at the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his favorite bomber jacket as Tara holds on the duvet for dear life.

“What are you doing here?” She turns her head in the other direction as if her vanity was the most interesting piece of furniture she’s ever seen.

At her sour expression, Mark’s expression falls. For a split of a second he seems to be unable to form a coherent sentence or push himself to do anything at all, but eventually, he quietly steps towards Tara and without saying a single word he sits on the edge of the bed.

But Tara avoids his eyes. She can’t bring herself to look at him because his presence is suddenly reliving the embarrassment and humiliation she felt during their conversation earlier that day.

“I saw the album,” Mark says, his breath hitching as Tara blinks twice without really understanding what he means. “Jae said it was a present from you”.

With the trauma of facing Mark, she has almost forgotten about his birthday gift. Of course, she now regrets spending so much time putting together a photo book with pictures of the two from childhood up to the months previous to their breakup. If she had known Mark was going to behave the way he did, Tara would’ve accepted Enzo’s invitation and instead of the comfort of her bed, she would be on a luxurious yacht sailing the Greek Islands. Or she would’ve asked Tyler to lock her in her room so there were no more chances to land on the cover of scandal-hungry tabloids and gossip sites. Yes, she likes the second idea better.

But no, against her better judgment, she went to visit her ex-boyfriend so he could shatter her pride in pieces and humiliate her.

“And I’m truly sorry” Without another word, Mark reaches to pull Tara to his chest. Initially, he meets resistance from her part. She briefly struggles to free herself, but when her name escapes from Mark’s lips in a soft whisper that makes her feel a wonderful sense of loosening inside, she gives in with a sigh. Too exhausted and emotionally drained to fight him back, she also lets go of the duvet in favor of letting Mark wrap his arms around her.

“I’m so, so sorry, T” He repeats as his hands move to stroke her hair and pat her back gently, slightly desperate to show he how apologetic he truly is. “I am sorry”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Tara speaks, her voice breathy with a contained chuckle.

“I know”

Mark is so thankful when she wraps her arms around him and buries her face against his chest that his heart races embarrassingly and his throat moves when he swallows. Yet, Tara seems unfazed, wrapped in her own thoughts and the scent of oolang and bergamot from Mark’s signature perfume combined with the faint smell of Febreze that Taeyong uses religiously in their clothes.

Mark smells like spring and his embrace makes Tara feel like home, so she stays that way for a few minutes, eyes closed, easily sinking into his arms and basking in the familiarity of it all. It is just a simple hug, but it conveys their feelings with much greater clarity than words could have; it is almost a reminder of easier days when everything was less tangled and a simple hug could put everything back in its right place.

Now everything seems as it could be fine.

That is, of course, until she pulls away and notices Mark’s eyes brimming with tears.

It’s probably too soon to draw conclusions, but for some reason it makes Tara’s former optimism deflate.

Not like this is the first time Tara sees Mark cry. Oh no, she has seen him cry plenty of times before, although when she tells those stories to other people, they believe she’s making them up because Mark is a strong man by any standard and he has never shown any sign of weakness in front of anyone else. Particularly not in front of his bandmates or his fans.

People regard Mark as always cool and collected, that one person who always knows what to say and what people expect from him. He didn’t cry when his group reached the Nº1 spot for the first time in the South Korean charts, nor during his first concert or that time he injured himself in a rather foolish fashion and subsequently skipped a whole round of promotions with his group. If you were to ask anyone, Mark is described as a hardworking young man with a somewhat detached and serene outlook on life.

But that is Mark, the rapper of NCT. The Mark Yang sitting next to Tara cried when she went to Hogwarts for the first time and when their first bunny died. Mark cries over a sad movie plot and whenever he misses his family. The Mark Tara knows is anything but detached. He is loving and slightly clingy, although he always justifies himself claiming that he barely spends time with his loved ones.

That’s exactly why doubt wings through Tara when her eyes fix on Mark. Granted, her concern is slightly unreasonable given the circumstances and their unspoken reconciliation, but she knows him by heart and he looks merely appalled.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, eyeing him suspiciously

“Nothing” He musters dismissively. Tara doesn’t know he’s fighting hard to keep the tears at bay, but she can guess, by the way he bits on his lower lip, that there’s something he wants to tell her. And she simply expects the worst.

“Then what’s with that expression?” she says, forcing a soft laugh. “You look as though you’ve murdered someone.”

Mark doesn’t respond. There is silence and then a simple head motion

“I don’t know how bad this actually is or if Jane will be able to fix it before it goes out, but…” A frustrated breath slips from Mark’s lips and he moves to grab Tara’s hand “Earlier today I kinda told a reporter we had broken up.”

“What?” Tara’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“Listen T, I am really sorry, I just…” Mark runs his free hand through his hair “I got this question about you and the rumors and I-“ he tightens his grip on her hand “I just lost it. I saw that article on the news and I don’t know what got into me. Please, forgive me, I didn’t mean to-“

Amusement swirling in her chest, Tara doesn’t even attempt to hold in a laugh.

“Mark, people have been speculating about our break up for weeks and if they couldn't tell yet after the pictures of you and Mindy walking by the hand late at night” She said the last bit with the tiniest bit of accusation in her voice “They probably did after the headlines of this morning, so unless you had told them I cheated on you or that you hated me, I think we’ll be ok”

“No, I would never” Mark says softly, once again wrapping himself around Tara “I only said that we broke up and I wished not to be asked any more questions about the topic”

“An answer straight from the idol book. Well done” Tara laughs, but still, that emotion written on Mark’s face —that she recognizes as guilt— doesn’t seem to go away. “Oh, come on, Mark, change that expression! What’s wrong now?” Tara rolls her eyes, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I…” He falters “I also made you cry”

“When did you?” Tara asks, moving away from the hug and turning so they’re finally face to face. “I haven’t cried” She frowns, although her slightly puffed eyes aren’t painting the most convincing picture.

“Tyler told me” Mark smiles with a swift rise of his cheekbones. If Tara didn’t know him better she would assume that he is amused.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself” Tara scoffs, but Mark is still smiling at her with a sort of smug twinkle in his eyes.

“I hate I made you cry, I really do.” He says solemnly “But the fact you did…” Mark finds the auspicious moment to caress Tara’s face with his thumbs, making her huff once she notices his cheeks going all squishy and his eyes crinkling in a smile.

She would definitely be offended if she didn’t know there’s no malice to it, just Mark’s attempts to lighten up the mood.

“I swear I will never make you cry again” He says, interlacing their hands “Please, don’t ever cry again” Mark places a gentle kiss on her cheek before adding “Plebeians like me don’t deserve the tears of a princess”

Tara cringes and laughs, smacking Mark’s arm softly

“That’s so cheesy” she complains, faking a retching noise. “Please never repeat that”

“Why?” Mark catches Tara’s fist before it lands on his chest, pulling her towards him for the umpteenth time. It almost feels like he wants to make up for the lost time and Tara is not in a position to complain or criticize him because the longing is mutual so she only throws her arms around his neck, shaking her head. “Yo, it’s true though…” Mark says, his boyish manners coming out in full force when he speaks.

“That you’re cheesy?” Tara jokes.

“That I am a plebeian and you are a real princess… my princess”

“Ugh… cheesy” Tara’s face contorts into what could be disgust, but a split so second later she bursts out laughing. Mark chuckles too, but he becomes solemn as his hands slide under Tara’s —his— sweatshirt and his fingers glide up her sides until they reach for the curve of her waist.

“No, but seriously, T… I’m sorry” he repeats as Tara plays with his hair distractedly “I was rude to you and that was just off-limits. Nothing justifies the way I behaved.”

“True” Tara concedes with a nod and a small smile spreading on her face.

“You didn’t deserve any of that and I apologize for it”

“True again. You were acting stupid” She replies simply, looking away as she removes her hands from Mark’s neck, a noticeable frown on her face “But I guess I can take that apology”

A hearty laugh fills the room when Mark realizes Tara is just faking the angered expression and seconds later she ends up throwing him a poorly executed wink.

“Thank you, T” The guy’s amusement quickly vanishes, a warm feeling of elation coming over him. It is the kind of feeling that makes you believe an enormous burden has been lifted from your shoulders and you can finally be at peace.

He beams, his smile so bright that it almost makes Tara feel blinded by it. Then, a teasing glint fills his eyes “Though now that I remember, you did call me an idiot…” he dramatically places a hand over his heart “That hurt”

“Should I even be sorry? You were acting like one” Tara states matter-of-factly. She raises a brow, trying to ignore the way Mark’s hands have returned to hold her at the waist pulling her closer.

“What?” Mark opens his mouth in an exaggerated fashion, pretending to take the offense.

“It’s true, you were acting like a di-” Tara stops midway, giggling as Mark tickles her sides. “Oh, come on!” Laughter escapes from her lips abundantly. “Mark... please…” She twists, fighting desperately to escape from his attack, but Mark continues to dig his fingertips on her sides, chuckling and occasionally letting out a full laugh.

“Please what?” He asks, watching amused how Tara tries to push him off with her knees.

“Stop!” She giggles “Please, Mark, stop!” She smacks his hands away when they reach her ribs and then places both her hands against his chest to stop him from ambushing her again “I’m sorry. Ok?” she says, catching her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious?” Mark’s doe eyes flutter open as though he can’t believe his ears and Tara only nods, still focused on regulating her breathing pace. “Oh T. Don’t be.” Mark places a hand over one of hers, squeezing it and pulling it to his lips to kiss it briefly “I actually deserved it because what you said back then was true. I was just trying to get back at you.”

“I know” Tara replies, wondering if Mark is aware of who he’s talking to. Of course she knew, even if he wasn’t fully aware back then, Tara knew. She always knows. “But that’s not what I’m sorry about. I also owe you an apology for the Mindy misunderstanding and the whole Darius scandal. Although it shouldn’t be a big deal, considering we had broken up, you still deserve to know nothing ever happened between him and I”

Mark blinks not fully sure of what to say next. He remains quiet, letting go of Tara’s hand but a grin —that he had dumbly tried to suppress— slowly makes its way onto his lips. Tara laughs because Mark, as always, is transparent as glass and the happiness that her statement causes him is not even close to been hidden.

“So you’re telling me nothing happened with the perfect Darius Black?” He questions skeptically, smug grin still plastered across his face.

“First of all wipe that grin off” Tara rolls eyes, her hand smacking Mark’s shoulder playfully “Don’t be such a smug jerk”

Mark could be offended, but he ignores that last part on behalf of attending a more urgent matter, which is finding out what Tara has been up to since their breakup. It is a question that has been torturing him for weeks, so he jumps in as soon as the opportunity presents.

Of course, Mark is not generally the jealous or possessive type, but watching the pictures of —his— Tara walking by the arm of another man —a man who had always shown more than just a casual friendly interest in her— had awoken something inside him.

“So?” Mark begins to feel the worm of jealousy squirming in his guts as he imagines Darius' hands roaming Tara’s body, his lips pressing against hers, hot and urgent, an image practically etched in his mind since the morning when he saw that goddamned picture of them looking like lovebirds on the news. “Nothing?” He has no other choice but to pretend to be ok, so he lets out a sigh, easing his chest from that emotional hell.

“Nothing” Tara says, shaking her head from side to side. “I’m offended you even ask.”

“You are a beautiful woman, Tara” Mark ignores her weak attempt to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Men hit on you all the time and that Darius is shamelessly obvious about want-“

“I know how to say no, Mark” Tara says seriously.

“Oh, so he did try to hit on you” Mark insists predictably, causing Tara to chuckle. “I knew he did. I mean, of course he would, you got all dressed up and looked so fine. He would’ve been stupid if he didn’t”

“Mark, seriously nothing happened” Tara interrupts, her voice a mixture of amusement and weariness. “He was just trying to be helpful” She speaks as though she is trying to explain a hypersensitive 4 year-old that 1 plus 1 equals 2, but Mark does nothing but to repeat her last word with a questioning eyebrow. It makes Tara aware of all the explaining left to do, but also gives her the urge of kissing away the furrow of his brows. “Listen” Tara swifts on the bed to reposition herself “I drank too much and he was just trying to keep me safe.” Tara admits, looking everywhere but at his face.

“What?” Mark’s voice suddenly goes harsh and Tara turns to find an unexpectedly tense-looking man staring at her. “Are you sure he didn’t try anything weird-?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tara places a hand on Mark’s thigh reassuringly, but can’t deny the odious thrill his protective side makes her feel. “Trust me, Mark. Enzo or Adela would’ve already killed him if he had”

“Ok” Mark’s face relaxes and he goes back to looking at Tara with the same smug grin from before and eyes alight with mischief “So?”

“So what?” Tara rolls eyes “What now?”

“So why did you reject him? Because I’m not gonna believe he didn’t ask you out” Mark speaks naturally, as though he had just formulated a question about something like the time or the weather. “As far as I know all your friends fawn over him and Jane keeps reminding me that he is one of the most eligible bachelors of... your world” He adds that last bit hesitant.

Tara makes a mental note to scold her friend later “He’s just not my type”

Mark huffs “Tall, blonde, green eyes and handsome is not your type?” He asks incredulously.

“Why are you being so annoying, Mark?” Tara moves until she’s leaning her back against the pillows and crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you want to hear? That I got drunk because I missed you and I already made out with most of Enzo’s friends at previous parties so I knew, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t going to get over you going out with someone else and acting like some immature teenager? Is that what you want to hear?” Tara snaps, but surprisingly, her voice is warped and tiny, twisted beyond recognition.

For a second Tara holds her breath expecting Mark to snap back at her. She watches his body stiffen, his face tense up, his eyes looking away from her. Then silence overcomes the room and she mentally smacks herself for every single decision she’s made that day.

“Hey” Mark pushes Tara out of her self-chastisement moment offering a hand a pulling her closer. “I’m sorry. I was just joking” he says, arms wrapping around her tightly “I didn’t realize what you went through.” Tara opens her mouth to say something, but Mark shakes his head and goes on. “That picture on the news… oh, God, T. It’s been driving me insane. I never knew how scared of losing you I was until this morning and I don’t want to feel like this ever again-“ Tara’s hand on his chin, silences Mark and when he looks at her, he’s surprised to find Tara smirking at him.

“Shut up. You have nothing to worry about” she pretends to pick inexistent pieces of fuzz from his jacket. “You know why?” Mark only shakes his head, making Tara scoff at him “Because you are the only person I’ve ever loved.” She says simply. “And I only have eyes for you”

"Hmm" Mark stares at her thoughtfully, almost as though he has been left at a loss for words, but between the smile on his face and the greedy way his hands clutch around her waist, Tara knows he has plenty of words to say. “You know what I really think?" He asks.

"No, but I bet you're going to tell me"

"I think maybe you’ve figured out no one can top me" It is impossible for Mark not to burst into laughter right after pronouncing such cringe-worthy words, his cheeks going a light hue of pink.

“Shut up” Although the muscles of her leg refuse to kick him to shut him up, Tara pushes him slightly.

“I’m kidding” He smooths down Tara’s hair, “But here’s a fact” He looks at her adoringly, clutching onto her with force “I love you, Tara Lee.”

“I love you too” Tara places a hand around his neck “Only you, Markie”

The two exchange a moment as they look into each other’s eyes, none of them daring to move, afraid to ruin the perfect harmony they’ve fallen into. Until Mark decides to break the silence, looking extra worried.

“Did we just miss the perfect timing to kiss?” He asks, dipping his head down to murmur into Tara’s ear.

“I think so” Tara is moving to press her lips against Mark’s when the door flies open.

“Absolutely not under this roof” Tyler barks, eyes throwing daggers at her sister’s boyfriend. “What does make you think I will let you kiss my sister right after you made her cry?”

Mark pulls away from Tara’s arms with such urgency that he nearly falls off the bed. She could’ve found it funny if she wasn’t so busy glaring at her brother.

“Were you listening to our conversation?” Tara forces a laugh, free of any true amusement. “Why are you acting like some creep?”

“Creep? I’m just protecting my little sister from-“ Tyler splutters, catching the way Tara is looking at him. “From some hormonal guy trying to take advantage of her”

“Just get out!” Tara reaches under her pillow for her wand and points it directly at her brother. There’s not even an ounce of hesitation in her eyes “I swear Tyler Lee…”

==============

“I’m sorry my brother is such a jerk” Tara says minutes later, apology evident on her face as she snuggles her head on Mark’s chest. They’re currently cuddling on his king-sized bed, surrounded by dozens of ridiculous pillows Mark has accumulated over the years. The Sound of Magic is playing on his state-of-the-art movie system; an unnecessary waste of money, as Jane had described it since he barely spent time in London, but one of the very few things Mark never hesitated to splurge on. After all, Tara liked watching movies and he enjoyed cuddling her on any normal day.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. He was actually kinda sweet earlier when he threatened to turn me into a toad if I didn’t go there and apologized to you” Tara gaps at that, looking at him with through slit eyes, so Mark is quick to add “which I was going to do anyway without angry brother involved. Well, Jae was already angry and involved, but you know what I mean...” He corrects himself, rambling about his older brother and patting Tara’s shoulder.

Both of them laugh at that, but then Mark sits up slightly and looks down at Tara.

“Speaking of what, Jason told me to look at the last picture in the album, but I forgot to. What’s so important about it?” Marks inquires, an eyebrow going up.

Tara’s eyes widen “You didn’t watch it yet?”

Mark shakes his head a “no”.

“You have to” She rolls eyes at him, moving to pause the movie just before Julie Andrews teaches the Von Trapp children how to “Do Re Mi”. “Now” She orders, pushing Mark off the bed.

Mark groans, but he ultimately gets up and crosses the room. Heis wearing plaid pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt, and rounded glasses. He looks so soft, Tara wonders how she ever believed, even for a second, that he could do anything that hurt her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t see the picture” Tara clicks her tongue when he picks the photo album from the bookshelf. “I thought you went to see me after recalling the good old times”

Mark says nothing, he only shifts the pages as Tara comes behind him and wraps her arms around his chest, tiptoeing to rest her chin on his shoulder. When he reaches the end of the album, he finds himself laughing shakily and blinking rapidly.

“Yo, where did you find this?” He turns to see Tara smiling brightly. “I thought your mother- wow, T. I can’t believe-“ Mark rambles barely making sense. He can’t believe Tara had recovered the first-ever photo they had taken together. Particularly because they had been convinced Tara’s mother had gotten rid of it when she attempted to erase all of Tara’s childhood memories. “I-” Mark’s fingers run over the photo, memories of that day suddenly surfacing in his mind. The picture had been taken on a day trip to the local zoo when they were barely four. Tara is sitting on a bench kicking her legs in the air, dressed in a tomboyish outfit that contrasts with the girly bag hanging from her shoulder. At her left, Mark is holding her hand, standing next to a monkey cage. Under the picture, in neat capital letters in pink ink, Tara had written: “Forever yours”.

“Forever yours” Mark recalls those words. They were part of the confession he’d made on their first trip to the beach together. It was the summer before he moved to Seoul and the first time he saw Tara in 6 months. They had carved a huge heart into the sand and decorated it with shells and pebbles, embossing their initials in the center and promising to love each other for eternity.

Tara says nothing. She waits for Mark to make a move and predictably, seconds later he places his hand on each side of Tara’s arms, rubbing small circles. “I am forever yours” In normal circumstances, Tara would be ready to clown the cheesiness of his words, but she only giggles, wraps her arms around his waist and lets Mark press his lips against her own.

It’s like coming home.

***

#tara #mark #story #tyler #otp #oc

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

The Lily Farm - Chapter 24

Formerly A Funeral.

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Themes, Adult Content, Canon Divergence, Found Families, Brotherhood, Fatherhood, pregnancy, Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Arthur, Minor John Marston/Abigail Roberts

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and in their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big, all of which bring them closer to one another, as well as to their future. But they’ve fallen in love during hard times. With the gang tipping dangerously close to a breaking point in a changing world, Arthur must make a difficult choice. Can he escape the past, as well as the outlaw life and start over, building a family of his own? With Mary Beth by his side, one thing is certain: redemption and second chances finally seem within his grasp.

***For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost or AO3, both linked in the replies to this post and also at my blog ^_^***

Chapter 24: The Heartlands

In any case, I have grown tired in ways I cannot rightly explain.

I’m not sure what might have happened to Kieran. Most likely, he ended up out on a fishing trip, or a gallavant that simply extended beyond his original intentions. Diana could have spooked and tossed his ass and hightailed it back to camp without him. It could be anything. Mary Beth wants to come along and I had no choice but to let her. I ain’t her father. And I know she can do okay in a whole host of situations, but if it comes to shooting I don’t know. She may be a damn good conwoman and a savvy pickpocket, but she ain’t no killer. I love her. I’d do anything to keep her safe, and in any case, I guess I’m just afraid. I can’t shake that part of myself. I fear it will always be there—after everything. She knows it. I just don’t know how to protect her and how to keep making this life work no more. And Jesus Christ I have been so careless. We’ve been. Careless. I don’t know why. It just feels right, letting go inside her like nature running its course, like the way it’s supposed to be but shit. If she gets pregnant while we’re still here, toiling in this war of ours…I’m right terrified. I don’t know what to do. I should’ve said no to Dutch, and yet, I did not. Hosea was right, as usual. I need to use my goddam head.

I just always want to believe. I’ve been so blinded by my desire to just…please Dutch. It ain’t fair no more. I’m still out on this limb, and now Mary Beth is out here with me. And if we keep making it like we do, soon it’ll be an innocent among us and I ain’t letting no more of my own blood spill into the earth. I ain’t doing that. Not again.

Dutch thinks we can get money out of this Bronte fellow. He talked to me about it last night, after that fool’s party we attended. Something about a trolley station. A poker game on a goddam river boat. I see things differently, and Mary Beth confirmed my suspicions. Of course, she did it with intelligence and grace, whereas my thoughts tend to come out as gravy these days. Mary Beth was a sight to see with Bronte. Once again she’s proven she’s too good for me, and yet here we are. We’re getting married. Still ain’t told no one—not sure why. It just don’t feel right yet to make a big deal. But I do know that it ain’t like last time. It ain’t Mary. Mary could not commit to huge parts of me, my life. With her, I was a fool. But Mary Beth’s love for me feels…honest. It’s for the right reasons. She is loyal to me. I don’t know what I have done to deserve this bounty she brings, but I ain’t letting it get away.

We are setting out to find the O’Driscoll boy as soon as this storm clears. It rains so goddam much down in this hellhole state I have forgotten what season it is. It’s perpetually the hottest it’s ever been, and I will say, I miss the fresh air to the north. She does, too.

They rode out of Shady Belle at about four o’clock. It was later than Arthur had hoped for, as this meant they would most definitely be gone into the night, but putting things off would have been worse. The rain had brought a chill to the air that made everybody uncomfortable. It was a damp chill. Mary Beth wore a brown leather scout jacket with an ornamental purple tether around the waist. It had a hood, which she kept fashioned over her tightly braided hair. Arthur outfitted her with that same shotgun from their trip to the north and a whole shitload of slugs. She wanted the gun, and it was the right choice. But once again he told her: “Do not use that gun unless you absolutely must. Understood?” by which he meant: “Do not use that gun unless you have reason to believe that I have died or will soon be dead and cannot defend you no more. Understood?”

Charles led the way to Rhodes. It was easy business, tracking Kieran at first. The clouds had gone on and most of the the townspeople were back outside and about their business. It looked like a big wind had come in and blown over a carriage full of feed corn right outside the train station. A couple of working boys were hustling to pick it all up, but the axel on their carriage was broken, and the the job looked too big for just the two of them. Arthur and Charles gave them a hand while Mary Beth went to the saloon to inquire upon whether anyone had seen a young man fitting Kieran’s description.

“He’s got long brown hair, to his shoulders,” she said, “a little scraggly, about this tall, has a scratchy voice. He would have been wearing a straw type hat, cowboy boots, dressed like a rancher, riding an Ardennes. He’s twenty years old.”

“May I inquire upon how you know the young man?”

“He’s my brother, sir. Been missing from our ranch in Scarlet Meadows for three days. Mama and I can’t make ends meet without him.”

The bartender was taken with Mary Beth. He did not even require payment for his information as he wiped down a glass with his linen towel. “I think I seen a boy like that,” he said, leaning in on his elbow. “Was in here two nights ago, waiting out the storm. Sat by himself, caused no trouble. Ordered a glass of milk.”

"That’s him,” she said. “Did he say anything about where he was headed?”

“No, ma’am,” said the bartender, topping off her glass of rose. “But toward the end of the night, a couple boys crowded him in the booth, right over there. They all left together. It was sudden.”

This was alarming to Mary Beth. “Do you know who they was?”

“Didn’t talk like they was from around here,” said the bartender. “Yankees. I heard one of them mention that they was headed in from Riggs Station, way out in West Elizabeth, if that helps.”

“It does,” said Mary Beth. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.” She finished her wine and left a generous tip. He tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted. She then went to wait for the boys in a booth at the front of the saloon. It took about ten minutes before they arrived, and she told them all about her findings.

“He said it was Yankees?” said Arthur, smoking, sitting next to her, wearing his hat with the pretty brown feather.

“Yes,” she said. “Said they crowded him and left all of a sudden.”

Arthur glanced across the table to Charles who became apprehensive.

“You think it’s O’Driscolls?” said Arthur.

“Sounds about right,” said Charles.

“What would they doing in Lemoyne?”

“Could be they tracked us here, after that nasty shootout with the Grays, then ran into Kieran by mistake, maybe took advantage of an unlucky circumstance.”

Arthur swore under his breath, looked around, smoked. Then he looked back at Mary Beth. “Mary Beth, I think Charles and I ought to finish this one alone.”

“What?” she said. “No. I got the information. I’m coming.”

“It ain’t safe,” he said. “I’ll ride with you back to camp.”

“How do you know it ain’t safe?”

“Because I just do,” he said. “I got a bad feeling. And my bad feelings got a bad habit of coming true.”

“He’s right, Mary Beth,” said Charles. “If it is O’Driscolls, there is bound to be bloodshed.”

"I ain’t scared,” said Mary Beth.

Arthur shook his head, serious. “Please,” he said. “This ain’t for you. Let me take you back.”

She stared at him in defiance. “You know what else ain’t for me?” she said. “Hitting a man over the head with a frying pan, saving your life. Or getting carried off by Murfree Brood in a thunderstorm. Or shooting a wolf mother in the face.”

Arthur sighed.

“What’s she talking about?” said Charles.

Arthur ignored him. “You near on shot me with that gun of yours in a panic,” he said to Mary Beth. “You’ll be in danger. These boys, they ain’t no turtles in the marsh.”

“Oh please. I didn’t shoot you,” she said. “I listened to you. Granted it took me a moment. But I can listen.”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t mean to, but all this made her feel small. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Please, Arthur. I can’t sit back at Shady Belle, just waiting on you. I can’t. Don’t make me.”

There was a commotion then, as two people walked into the saloon, coming through the doors with gusto. At first, Arthur didn’t know what was going on, but then he recognized their faces right quick. “What the hell?”

“Dutch and Sadie?” said Mary Beth standing up to see. “What are they doing here?”

“Only the lord knows,” said Arthur, getting up to tip his hat and address them. “To what do we owe this fine pleasure?”

“Sit down, Arthur,” said Dutch, pushing in next to Charles. He was looking serious. “We need to talk.”

Arthur glanced at Mary Beth. She was apprehensive. A hush came on down between them all like a big old curtain. Then Arthur looked at Charles who had stuffed a fat wad of dipping tobacco into his lower lip, and he was spitting said dip into a wine glass, and he shrugged.

“What’s going on?” said Arthur. He pulled up a chair. Sadie gave him a polite but serious nod and sat down in the booth next to Mary Beth. She was wearing a tough yellow blouse that made her look like a cowgirl.

“Sadie here tells me that Diana showed up at camp this afternoon without her rider,” said Dutch, real quiet.

“That’s right,” said Arthur, lighting a cigarette. “Kieran’s missing.”

“How long.”

“He went missing a few days back,” said Arthur. “Day of the storm. We’ve tracked him through here, all the way out to West Elizabeth—near Riggs Station. Mary Beth here got the information. We think it’s probably O’Driscolls.”

“Good work, Miss Gaskill,” said Dutch, nodding. This made her feel tremendous pride. “And, Arthur, it is O’Driscolls, but it ain’t just O’Driscolls, boy, and that is the reason we are here.”

Arthur smoked. “I don’t catch your meaning.”

“It’s Colm.”

Everybody straightened up. Dutch had his whole, massive hands splayed out on the surface of the table in front of him. The room became heavy and distant all around them. Dutch had a way of doing this, making any and every space into his own.

“Colm himself?” said Arthur, shifting in his seat. “How do you figure that?”

“Because,” said Dutch, staring down at those hands. “The last time a horse showed up to my camp without its rider, it was in Denver, Colorado, and it was Annabelle’s.” Then he looked up at Mary Beth, looking sad in the low light from the saloon. It was a strange sight to see. “A pretty little spotted Apaloosa, just like yours, Miss Gaskill.”

“Annabelle?” said Mary Beth.

“That’s right.”

“You think this is a trap, Dutch?” said Arthur, tense. “You think it’s Colm, trying to lure you in again?”

Dutch puffed up. “I don’t know. But this certainly ain’t no coincidence. We ride. Tonight.”

Arthur became tense. “I ain’t riding the women into no trap, Dutch.”

“Calm down, Arthur,” said Dutch. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with just yet. For now, we’ll get as far as the Heartlands and make camp. Tomorrow morning, we head into West Elizabeth and…see what we can see. Sadie and Mary Beth can be of use to us. They can get information where we cannot. Comprende?” He looked around to wide gestures of agreement.

Arthur hesitated, but he eventually played along, sighing, finishing his cigarette and tossing it to the floor where it burned out into black.

Riding out, for a long time, it was silence. The sun started to melt off over the horizon at some point, and the air got crisper, and there were coyotes, it seemed, everywhere, and wild horses hustling out to the coast. Around the time they they were passing through Scarlet Meadows, Mary Beth rode up beside Arthur and asked him to hang back. Arthur obliged. They slowed considerably, making sure they could still see the rest of the group up ahead, but far enough behind to stay out of earshot.

“Arthur,” she said after a little while. The air was purple. It was getting past dusk now as they crested into the Heartlands. Soon, they’d need to make camp.

Arthur wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What is it, Mary Beth.”

“I know you don’t want me here.”

This broke him. He shook his head. He felt bad. “That ain’t it, Mary Beth. Of course I want you here. I always want you here.”

“Okay,” she said, looking around with her hood up. She looked sweet and kind. She looked like his girl. “Then I know you’re freaking out.”

“Excuse me?”

“We don’t even know what we’re up against yet,” she said. “Just give me a chance. You were willing to do that a few weeks ago, when we left for our hunting trip. What’s changed?”

“You know what’s changed,” he said, looking at her, lowering his voice. “I took a leap. I landed on my feet, somehow, and now I’m looking around, and I see us going backwards.”

“Arthur—”

He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands on the reins. “We ain’t been thinking.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, we got real deep, real fast, before we paved our exit. Putting you in danger, with so much goddam uncertainty? It’s making me crazy, Mary Beth. And Dutch, well.” Arthur laughed, cynically, under his breath. “Well he’s making me crazy, too. First that god forsaken party, Angelo Bronte, and now all this nonsense about Colm O’Driscoll. He ain’t even explained what the hell he’s going on about yet. Just expects we ride along with him, and look at us, doing exactly as we’re told. I’m a goddam fool.”

“You’re talking in code, Arthur,” said Mary Beth, pulling Watson up a little closer. “What the hell are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I just—”

“You said you talked to John,” she said. “Last night, before we went to sleep. Has he made up his mind?”

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “They’re in. He’s just waiting on me.”

“Good,” she said. “He should be. You know what to do, Arthur. You need to stop second-guessing yourself. And try to just…breathe. I wanna get outta here, too. You know I do. But we gotta get Kieran back. He’s put in his time, and his heart. He’s one of us, and we owe him this. And you gotta deal with Dutch, Arthur. We can’t—there’s too much at stake.”

“I know,” he said. He closed his eyes, thinking. “I just—I know I’m talking nonsense, Mary Beth, but the more time we spend, heming and hawing in the swamps, the more foreboding the feeling in my gut. Like, the longer we wait around, the closer we get to the end. I can feel it. And riding out with you tonight, it’s bringing all that to the surface.”

“The end of what?” she said, watching him in the coming darkness. “What are we getting to the end of, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed. He shook his head again and again, staring off into the darkening path ahead where Dutch rode his pretty white horse at the helm. “Everything,” he said, real low and mean. He looked at her. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what it felt like to be free. “Come on,” he said, opening his eyes again, picking up the pace a little. “We can talk more later. I’m good with you being here, I just—I need you to listen me, okay?” he said, switching gears, looking at her. “Whatever happens, Mary Beth, when we get wherever it is we’re headed, I need you to listen to me and listen to what I say to you.”

“Okay,” she said, earnest.

“I’m serious,” he said. “And I ain’t saying this because you’re a woman, and not because I love you and I’m terrified that something might happen to you. Or, maybe that second one, just a little, but mostly I’m saying this because you ain’t never been out on a job like this before. Because you’re a rookie, and I’m your lieutenant, and I need you to do what I say when I say it, or else we ain’t standing a chance. You understand?”

“Yes,” she said, becoming eager. “I understand.”

“Good,” he said, and he gave her a strong nod, and then he led the way out ahead so they could catch up with the rest of the gang.

She felt validated by his pep talk. He didn’t altogether know how much she aimed to be strong.

They rode till they found a good valley to camp in south of the Heartlands, not far from the lake. The scenery, even in darkness, reminded Mary Beth of Clemens Point. She became full to the brim with sadness and nostalgia. She almost started crying. The romance of it all, its highness and mighty feelings, had started wearing off, and now it was just her and Arthur, and she looked at him, stoking their fire, and she felt such love in her heart so as to help her do anything. Such fortitude. But everything seemed much easier when they were up at Deer Cottage, all alone in what had felt like a primitive world.

At some point Dutch Arthur and Charles grouped up beneath a nearby tree smoking and discussing their manly options for the next day. Sadie and Marybeth were aced out of this conversation, left to their own devices at the fire where Sadie was cleaning her sawed-off, and Mary Beth was making them a batch of whiskey tea.

"What do you think they’re talking about?" said Sadie.

"Who knows," said Marybeth.

"Fucking egos," said Sadie, looking crass. "The only reason Dutch brought me along was because I made a goddamn stink in front of everyone. For such a drama queen, he sure don’t like it when others cause a fuss."

Mary Beth laughed. "I know what you mean," she said. "You want some tea?"

"Sure," said Sadie.

Together they sat, by the fire, sipping their tea and looking at their boots. Sadie drew real quiet. She held her cup with two hands, looking down into it like it was no tomorrow. She took it down in three gulps. Mary Beth offered her some more. Sadie nodded and held out her cup.

“I hate this damn Heartlands country,” said Sadie. "It smells like fish and buffalo shit. Where are you from Mary Beth?

"Kansas," send Mary Beth.

"Do you miss it?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

Mary Beth took a long drink of her whiskey tea. It was strong and dark and tasted good. "Too many reminders," she said.

Sadie laughed to herself, sounding resigned. “I hear that."

Mary Beth looked up at the wide open sky. The clouds had exited. The stars we’re bright and swimming like fishes. “Why did you want to come anyway?” she said.

Sadie swallowed down that second cup of whiskey tea. She set down the cup and went back to cleaning her gun, polishing it with a dirty linen rag. At first, she didn’t say anything. She just sat there, sullen with her eyes downturned. But sooner or later she spoke.

“I ain’t ever known a man as good as my Jakey,” she said, subdued. “Colm O’Driscoll took him away from me. I want my revenge.”

She said this with such clarity of mind. Such purity of darkness inside her. Mary Beth could feel the whole world narrowing around them, becoming a tornado, crushing into the walls ahead. She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t even begin to understand what you been through.”

Sadie looked up, surprised. She ceased cleaning that gun. “Sure you can,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You been in love,” said Sadie. “If somebody shot Arthur dead and left his body for wild animals to come and scavenge in the middle of a fuckin snowstorm, wouldn’t you do anything to watch them burn?”

Mary Beth got quiet after this. She was listening to the crickets. She looked down at her freckled hands, and then she closed her eyes.

Sadie swore under her breath. She seemed filled with remorse by what she'd said. She realized it was unforgivable. She set down her gun and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees. She dropped her chin to her chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Mary Beth,” she said. She placed her hand on Mary Beth’s hand, just for a second. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get so…mean sometimes. Without him.” She kind of sniffled, looked away like she was crying. “So angry. It makes me say and do terrible things.”

“It’s okay,” said Mary Beth. “You don't have to explain.”

“It ain’t okay,” said Sadie, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. “After Jake, up in Colter, you was nicer to me than anyone. You and Arthur, I mean. And here I am, scaring you and making you feel bad.”

“You ain’t. I promise.”

Then she pulled herself together and looked back at Mary Beth with a whole lot of resolve in her face. “Arthur is strong,” she said. “He’s a survivor. He knows what he’s doing, and he loves you. That much is clear. You got nothing to worry about.”

Mary Beth nodded. She took another long drink of her tea. It was starting to cool.

Together, they watched the boys talking under that tree.

“Is he your first love?” said Sadie, getting dreamy.

Mary Beth smiled. “Mostly,” she said. “I mean, I had puppy love once. With a boy back in Kansas City, but it wasn't nothing like being with Arthur,” she said. She didn’t know how old Sadie was, but she figured she was at least enough older to be able to understand what it was she was saying. “He gets real protective sometimes, you know? But I don’t want him to think I’m weak.”

“He don’t think you’re weak,” said Sadie.

“How do you know?”

“Because he knows you, and you ain’t.”

Mary Beth watched Arthur, smoking, listening to Dutch, flexing his jaw like he was thinking real hard. She nodded, following Sadie’s gist. She was pretty sure she understood.

That night, in their tent in the Heartlands, Arthur and Mary Beth lie side by side with a little lantern lit up by their faces. Mary Beth was reading her Yates while Arthur was drawing something in his journal and chewing on a toothpick. Outside of their tent, it was a quiet world. All was calm except for Charles out by the fire, sharpening his knife.

“What are you drawing?” said Mary Beth after a little while, turning her head to look at Arthur.

He took a deep breath, studied his work. “You,” he said.

It was a surprise. Mary Beth felt herself kind of pluck up and blush furiously. She straightened and closed her book and asked if she could see.

“Sure,” he said.

He showed her.

It was two pictures. One of her eating a peach, wearing a dress, sitting on a blanket by the river. The other one was her with that shotgun, shooting a turtle. She laughed. “Arthur!” she said, wacking him on the shoulder. “Not the turtle again.”

He laughed, too. “What’s wrong with the turtle?” he said. “I like that turtle. I like that day. I don’t wanna forget.”

“Me neither,” she said, gazing up at him. She felt that whole host of romantic dreams returning to her. Then she kissed him, getting breathless.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #mary-beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #rdr2 fanfic #the lily farm #dutch van der linde #charles smith #sadie adler

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