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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

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Happy Engagement

Relationship: Loki x Reader Warnings: contains some dark elements: manipulation Summary: Loki has always thought of you as his and there isn’t anything he won’t do to keep it that way. A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one shot for a while! I had the idea for it months ago and finally wrote it and then it just sat on my computer while I wrote other stuff but I figured since I don’t have anything really new this week it’d be perfect to put out! I hope you enjoy it because I greatly do :)

Masterlist

Loki had always been an interesting force in your life.

You two met when you were just children in school. You two were the official unofficial outsides of your school year — he was a prince, you were a peasant. Despite his royal standing, he’d play with you at recess. For these outlier ways, you two never interacted much with the other kids, life practically forcing you two to one another.

At such a young age, you hadn’t realized how significant this bond would become. As a child, you were just glad someone was talking to you. He shouldn’t have even been looking at you, should’ve maybe been disgusted with your presence alone. You should’ve been some onlooker, amazed by him and his magic but you weren’t — well, except for the magic part. His magic was little when you were kids but it drew quite the amazement from you.

Over time, you two naturally grew with one another. From childhood into your teens and still, now, you two made an unlikely pair of best friends as young adults. All of this though did not come without some bumps along the way.

In your teens, Loki had almost completely shut you out. For some reason, he seemed to be acting embarrassed by you. Your mother had warned you this may happen but you thought he was different, swore he was, unless his sincerity was like the many other tricks he played. Eventually, supposedly after some talking down from his brother, Loki appeared back at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk.

This disappearing and coming back had become a habit for him over his teenage years and into adulthood. Loki never explicitly told you why but you could tell there was something eating away at him. It had been there a long time and it felt like disassociating himself with you was his solution.

You thought everything was coming to an abrupt end when you fell pregnant. You had been seeing a nobleman who was a regular customer in your parents’ shop. He was absolutely charming and delightful, practically swept you right off your feet within minutes of meeting. Your parents were ecstatic when he asked to court you.

You yourself were stunned but you ran to tell Loki about it. He was speechless. You tried telling him about the man but something in Loki snapped. He got unreasonably upset, spewing hateful comments about the man, practically forcing you out of his chambers in the process. He went radio silent again.

You tried to ignore losing your best friend — again — and focused on your new relationship. He wooed you endlessly with dates to lavish dinners and dawning you in lovely gowns. It was all so much more than you had ever expected in life. He’d tell you you deserved it and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you two would get so lost in one another.

A bit shamefully, hypnotized by the romantics of it all, you gave yourself to him. Tangled in the sheets with him as your guide, you let the man you felt you would marry have every last bit of you.

And for a while after, it was blissful. Nothing had seemed to change between you two until he announced he had to go away for a bit. Confused, you asked why suddenly now facing the fact you were losing another person in your life. He explained he was needed by his father on a different realm, part of the family "business," as he described it.

Days after his departure, you learned you were pregnant. Around this time, Loki popped back up in your life. You felt relieved having someone to confide in but when you told him of your pregnancy, he was far from the supportive force you thought you’d get. He didn’t yell or get upset per se but he was beyond stunned.

He left for a bit then but can back in less time than last. This time he brought along baby supplies and congratulated you. It was a complete one-eighty from his prior behavior but you accepted it, gratefully. Loki ended up being your main person throughout the pregnancy as clues of when your boyfriend would return were nonexistent.

"Did he know you were carrying his child when he left?" Loki had asked you one night. You two were sitting in the living room of the makeshift house you had acquired. You didn’t feel very good that this was the home you were bringing a child into when you knew her father could’ve provided her with a better one. But, at the end of the day, it was a roof over both your heads.

You crocheted another knot in the baby blanket. "No, he didn’t. I didn’t even know."

Loki gave a passing hum at that answer. He didn’t ask about your boyfriend very much after that.

Once your baby girl arrived, she became your entire world, your entire focus. Between caring for her and working to provide, you had little time to worry about your boyfriend still being gone. But it wasn’t as lonely as it may have looked because Loki was always by your side. Working around his royal duties, he’d take time to come visit you and your daughter even sometimes staying for dinner or to play with her. You didn’t miss how he was unintentionally becoming the father she was missing. You never said anything, though, always biting your tongue as you waited for her father to return.

Hope began to face on that front after your daughter turned three. Maybe he was just a footnote in your life, a foolish hopeful dream, but at least he had given you the lovely gift of your child. You weren’t giving up, still placing him in the boyfriend spot of your mind, but you couldn’t deny doubt crept in. Maybe a relationship of any capacity just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Or so you thought.

As Loki continued with his royal responsibilities, he was growing older and more powerful. That’s when the rumors of marriage began floating about. Your mother had brought it up to you once asking if you met any of his potential suitors. Your stomach did a somersault. You didn’t even know there were suitors, let alone met any of them. You tried to keep your cool and just told her no.

Who these suitors were and if they really existed, you never found out. You never even had the guts to ask about them especially after Loki pulled you aside one night after a dinner at the palace.

He rarely ever invited you to dinners with his family so to get this spontaneous invitation, you didn’t hesitate to attend. He even allowed you to bring along your daughter. She was playing with some servants’ children when Loki asked you to the garden.

"Feeling like a nighttime stroll?" You asked with a little laugh. Loki just smiled.

"There’s actually something I want to speak to you about."

"Oh," you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, yes, everything is fine." He looked up at the sky, almost lost in thought as you walked. You thought for a split second how lovely he looked. "I’m sure you have heard by now the…talk about my anticipated engagement."

Your heart practically stopped beating at that moment. Your hands instinctively gripped at the skirt of your dress as if you were ready to run away at the drop of a hat. Trying to keep your voice stead, you said, "Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that to me the other day."

He shot you an unreadable side glance. Your hands gripped the fabric tighter. Why were you feeling like this? Was that…jealousy you felt? You didn’t understand where that had come from. This was your best friend. Your prince best friend. He was bound to get married and have a lavish life with his bride. You couldn’t stop that, you couldn’t change it.

"Do you know anything of the women I have been offered?"

Was this another one of his cruel jokes? You wanted to vomit all over the bushes of flowers passing you as you walked. You managed to shake your head in response. "I’m sure they’re all wonderful."

He scoffed. "More like they’re all incredibly boring."

You gasped, "Loki, I’m not sure you should be speaking that way of them."

"It’s doesn’t matter," he shrugged, "because none of them are what I want."

You didn’t know if you actually wanted to know what he was seeking. You looked at him wearily.

You two walked in silence for a moment. Loki was now watching the ground intensely. You couldn’t believe how much his gaze was wandering. It must’ve been for courage because the next words out of his mouth were ones you had never thought you’d ever hear. From anyone.

"I believe you could be what I want," he said. He spoke your name so softly. "I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage."

You stopped walking, your legs suddenly unable to move. Your eyes grew wide as complete shock raced over you. You didn’t know what to do, too scared to speak because you didn’t know what was going to come out. Your first thought was that this was one of his magic tricks. Maybe he wasn’t even here, just a clone of him as he wished to make a fool of you. It wouldn’t be the first time but he had never been so cruel.

"You’re not saying anything," Loki noted. He had stopped a few feet ahead of you, completely taken off guard by your halt.

"I-I don’t understand." The words felt so heavy forcing their way out of your mouth.

"I don’t believe I stuttered, dear."

Your jaw dropped, surprised it hadn’t hit the floor already. He was seriously asking this. Loki, a literal prince, and your best friend, was asking for your hand in marriage. But — But you just didn’t know why. Why would he ask such a thing? Not only were you an unwed mother, he knew very well about your boyfriend. It was almost insulting he’d think you’d give up just because business or whatever it was was taking a while. You didn’t even want to begin to think about what this could all mean for your daughter.

"Loki… I… I don’t know. This seems crazy—,"

"Crazy?" His expression turned dark. You suddenly regretted the word despite it holding true. "What is so crazy about me wanting to take your hand? I thought this could be good. You and your daughter would have everything you’d ever want. You’d be a princess for crying out loud!"

You flinched at his anger. You had never seen him so enraged before. It made your whole body stiffen.

"I see. This… This is very generous of you but my boyfriend…"

Loki chuckled but there wasn’t any humor found within it. "Of course. The nobleman." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me again, dear, how long has it been? Do you really think he’s going to just show back up one day?"

"Of course," you nodded. "He told me—,"

"He’s not coming back."

You began shaking your head, growing more and more upset as the seconds passed. "You don’t know that."

Loki sighed, defeatedly. "I do know that, dear." A heavy pause. "I know that because I’m the one that sent him away."

You were certain in that moment your heart had stopped. Everything had stopped. You could barely tell anymore how you got from point A to point B.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is I’ve had my eye on you for a long time," he explained. He was standing so tall making you feel minuscule. "I always thought you could be just right for me but then that nobleman waltzed into your life. Granted, he wasn’t me. He couldn’t give you what I could but he tried his best." Loki shrugged. "I had no choice, really. He threatened everything. He derailed my plan but it’s alright. I think after tonight it’ll be back on track, correct?"

You held your hands up in defense, practically begging Loki to slow down. Your head was spinning. "You sent away the father of my child?"

Loki sighed, sounding actually regretful. "Truly, that wasn’t ever my intention. I didn’t know he was going to do that."

"And you think since you forced him out of the picture, you can swoop in and ask for my hand in marriage? We never had a courtship! Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I’m a prince, darling." He sounded so casual. "We do not court like the rest of you."

Gosh, you felt like you were going to vomit. Your hands fell to your stomach as you tried to calm yourself. You had never heard Loki separate you two so clearly before. Like he had drawn a line, definitively.

Your words tasted like venom as you forced yourself to speak. "Can I at least think about it?"

"I’m afraid not. They’d like an answer tonight."

Tonight. That was what this dinner had been for. You weren’t invited just out of the kindness of his heart. You had been attending your own engagement party.

"Loki, this… I— This is insane. You’re— You’re insane—,"

"Am I, really?" He pressed, taking a few steps closer. You trembled under a darkened gaze you had never seen before on him. "I’m not sure that’s how you should be speaking to the man trying to offer you a bit of… stability."

"Stability?" You repeated. "You think that’s all that I want?"

"Would this not grant your daughter a better life? The little shop of yours is only getting you two so far, dear."

The shock had worn off as you were now being filled with rage. "Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this anymore," you gritted. "Of course, I want nothing but the best for her but I also deserve someone who will truly love me. You’re — You’re just asking to fulfill some royal commitment and trying to pass it off like this is some big, grand gesture to help me."

Loki looked a bit taken back by your words. Even you were a bit surprised by yourself. You didn’t know where this fight was coming from within you. Probably from the depths of motherhood, if you had to guess. But it felt good in a way.

After a heavy moment, Loki asked, "Was I so wrong to assume this proposal could actually help us both?"

That was the real kicker of it all, you thought. This actually could help you both.

"I want to marry someone who loves me."

Loki seemed to debate around the idea mentally. "I’m certain that within time something could bloom. I’m not a psychopath, darling." He smirked. "But I truly can’t believe you’d give this up all for the minuscule chance at love, the hopeless thing that got you where you are today."

You gasped. "I would’ve had true love if you hadn’t banished him away!"

Loki let out a humorless laugh. "You are so adorable, you know that?" You flinched as he got close enough now to place a hand on your damp cheek. You were practically forced to look in his eyes as he spoke. "That man was nothing but a spoiled brat and I refuse to believe you actually fell for his game."

You felt yourself crumbling down again. Way beneath him. "He… He was really…"

"Don’t you dare try to defend him, do you hear me?" Loki spat. That darkness was washing over but this time it felt like a storm you couldn’t escape. "I will not have my bride speak such niceties about another man."

"Your bride—,"

"While I’ve enjoyed this little midnight confessional, we have some good news to share with everyone, don’t we?"

You didn’t know what to do. What to think anymore. He wasn’t letting up. You were trapped. It was like the prison gate had shut behind you. You were stone-cold now, completely under his control. You were giving up in complete defeat. You could scream until you were blue in the face but you were running in circles. At least your daughter would know a home.

"Yes."

Loki’s face lit up. He removed his hands from you. "Fantastic," he said, heading back towards the palace. You helplessly followed beside him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and said, "Happy engagement, dear."

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

A/N: this may be my favorite chapter yet. i originally was going to delay this chapter a day but the wonderful comments gave me motivation to write. i beg of you to play the song when i write it starts playing...enjoy!

Masterlist

Chapter 12

“Yes, yes, yes!” Spencer excitedly left the hospital, immediately calling you.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you answered, having not checked the caller ID first.

“Guess what?” Spencer smiled.

“Hi Spence. What?” your tone instantly became lighter across the phone.

“The doctor cleared me. I don’t need crutches anymore!” Spencer exclaimed.

“Oh my god, that’s great! I know how much you hated them,” you responded.

“Yes, I did not like not being able to help you with Jo as much. But do you know what this also means…” he prompted.

“What?” you asked.

“I will actually be able to walk around and

take you on a real date ,” he beamed.

“Looking forward to it,” you grinned.

“How about tonight?” he asked excitedly.

“What about Jo?”

“JJ’s,” he replied quickly.

Clearly, he had already thought this through completely.

“Okay. I’d ask you what time you’re picking me up but we are both living in the same place right now so I’ll see you at home,” you giggled.

“See you at home,” he repeated with a massive smile plastered on his face.

“Mommy, why can’t I come?” Jo pouted, clinging on to your neck as you brought her out to the car.

“Me and Daddy are going to do BORING adult things,” you pretended to snore, “You don’t want to come, Baby J. You get to go have a fun playdate with Henry. I’m so jealous.”

You buckled her in and closed the car door, feeling arms wrap around your waist.

“Boring?” Spencer asked, feigning hurt.

“So boring,” you teased, giving him a kiss.

“You look beautiful by the way,” Spencer earnestly looked into your eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond but there was a faint knock on the car window.

“The princess is getting impatient,” he chuckled, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Hi!” JJ greeted the three of you at the door as you set Jo down who immediately ran inside in search of her best friend.

“Thank you for watching her,” you said.

“Oh, of course. Don’t worry about it! Now, go! Don’t waste any more of your night off talking to me,” she ushered you away.

“Bye! I’ll text you when we’re on our way back to get her,” Spencer waved.

Spencer then grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers and pulling you back towards the car as your head fell back in delightful laughter.

“You know it’s funny,” JJ said to Will as they were watching you two out the window, “Before I even knew that they had a history together, I was considering setting them up together.”

“What made you think that?” Will questioned, “I mean they’re both very nice people but I wouldn’t have thought about that.”

“I don’t know. I just felt like there could be something between them...turns out there already was,” she smiled.

Spencer pulled the car up to a beautiful patio dining area overlooking a lake. It was dusk and the sun was setting so stringed lights were hung up all around the tables.

“Spence, I heard it takes like a year to get a reservation here,” you looked at him incredulously.

“I have my ways,” he kissed your hand, “Come on.”

You walked up to the hostess with your hands interlocked.

“Dr. Spencer Reid for two,” he politely said to her.

“Right this way,” she guided you to your table with menus in her hand.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, pulled out your chair for you. You thanked the hostess but your eyes never left Spencer.

Once Spencer was seated, a silence fell over the two of you.

“This is kind of an awkward first date because we already know everything about each other,” you admitted.

“Yes, we are doing things a little backwards but at least I know I already love every single thing about you,” Spencer smiled.

You blushed, “Ditto.”

“Hey there,” the waitress approached your table, “What can I get started for you both?”

“I’ll have a glass of red wine please,” you said.

“I’ll just have water, thanks. Also, can we get spring rolls as an appetizer,” Spencer asked.

“Sure thing, I’ll be right back with those,” she wrote your order down in her notepad and left the table.

“Why am I surprised you remembered my affinity for spring rolls?” you laughed.

“I know it’s technically impossible for me to forget anything but even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I still wouldn’t forget a single thing about you,” he spoke.

You felt your cheeks heat up yet again.

“You have always had a way with words, Dr. Reid,” you took a sip from the wine glass that the waitress placed in front of you to hide your bashful grin.

You were headed back to JJ’s after a wonderful dinner. You were on a backroad and it was starting to drizzle. The radio was playing softly as you played with Spencer’s fingers in your hand.

Signed, Signed, Delivered by Stevie Wonder began to play through the radio. Spencer excitedly turned to look at you.

“This is our song, remember?” he beamed.

“Yeah, I remember,” you giggled.

Before you know what was happening, Spencer had pulled the car over and turned the radio up loudly.

He let go of your hand and exited the car.

“Spence, it’s raining!” you laughed.

“Good thing we have a dryer at home. Come on!” he walked around to your side, opening your car door and offering his hand.

You accepted and he pulled you out of the car, twirling you around. You danced around hand in hand, splashing in puddles without a care in the world.

You and Spencer were both singing at the top of your lungs, occasionally breaking from the lyrics to let out a joyous laugh. As the song faded out, he dipped you down, smiling widely. You slicked his wet hair back as he pulled you in for a kiss.

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted but you finally pulled apart when there was a loud honk in front of you. A car was stopped in the road, waiting for you to finish your makeout session in the middle of the street.

“Sorry!” Spencer called out to the driver as you both giddily ran back to your car.

You kissed him once more once you were back inside the safety of the car.

You were grinning like fools when Will opened the door.

“Do I want to know?” Will chuckled, gesturing at your soaked clothes.

“I think it’s better if we keep it to ourselves,” you smiled.

JJ came around the corner with a sleepy Jo in her arms.

“Well it looks like you two had fun,” she said as she handed Jo to Spencer.

“Thank you again. If you guys ever want to go out, we can watch Henry,” you offered.

“It’s really not a problem but we may take you up on that some time. Have a good night, guys,” JJ smiled.

“Daddy, why are you wet?” Jo asked curiously.

“Mommy and Daddy had to walk in the rain back to their car after the long meeting,” Spencer pretended to sound unamused as to not let the child know about your fun night without her.

“Me and Henry had mac and cheese for dinner and then we played dinosaurs and then we watched Finding Nemo,” Jo informed you both on the drive home.

“Well it sounds like you had an exciting night,” you smiled.

Once you got home, Spencer offered to tuck Jo into bed while you changed out of your damp clothes.

You peeked into the room just as Spencer was giving her a kiss on the forehead and getting up from the bed.

“I should go,” Spencer spoke softly.

“Or...you could stay,” you offered quietly.

Spencer smiled, “The latter sounds much better.”

“Now go change into sweats from my closet before you catch a cold,” you ushered him into your room.

You went downstairs to give Spencer some privacy, turning the kettle on to heat up and taking out two mugs.

You slowly made your way back upstairs with two warm mugs of chamomile tea. You tapped slightly at the door before entering.

“Thank you,” Spencer accepted the mug into his hands, giving you a quick kiss.

“I’m going to put our clothes in the dryer and then I’ll be right back,” he said, taking a sip of the tea before setting it down on the nightstand.

Spencer returned a few minutes later, getting in under the comforters and wrapping one arm around you. You both sipped your tea in a comfortable silence as the rain continued to pour down outside.

“Chamomile tea’s health benefits include protecting against diarrhea, nausea, stomach ulcers, and gas,” Spencer stated.

“Ever the romantic, Dr. Reid,” you giggled, resting your head on his shoulder.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #cm fanfic #reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds

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sinswithpleasure · 3 years

Text

Tonight (ft. TWICE’s Tzuyu) [Birthday Fluff]

In reference to this ask!

So umm would you mind if I requested a full on fluff with Tzuyu for Tzuyu's birthday?

I wrote in a lot of the songs I listened to while writing, just for fun! I’ll link them below: The 1975 - Robbers The 1975 - Chocolate The Weeknd - Blinding Lights

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It goes without saying that you adored your girlfriend. While both of you hadn’t dated for long, you really wanted to do something amazing for her on her birthday.

You had racked your brain for a good month. This was the first birthday of her’s you were spending with her, and you really wanted to make the effort to give her a birthday to remember. How were you going to do that? You grabbed at any source of information you could find - the Internet, books, magazines, articles, whatever.

The thought of your girlfriend was always enough for you to break out in all smiles. You’d met her at a concert, after months of being friends online. Both of you were in a clique made up of fans of the band whose concert you were attending. That was your first time meeting up, and through the few days you spent together for the concert, both of you hit it off. The cherry on top was that both of you ended up finding out that your residences were only ten minutes away from the other, which meant that both of you could regularly met up every weekend for coffee, a movie, or just to hang out. Soon enough, these friendly meetups blossomed into dates, and your friendship blossomed into a relationship. The whole friends-to-lovers trope seemed less unrealistic now that you’d fallen under that category.

Back to her birthday though. As you sat down to plan, you thought about a conversation you had with your girlfriend from a month back.

-----

“Yah, babe, babe, babe, look!”

Chou Tzuyu excitedly tapped your arm, shoving her phone in your face with an amazed smile on her face. A picture of the night sky was displayed on a photography account on Instagram, and you held her hand steady to grab a good look. Tzuyu seemed to vibrate with excitement, rushing to like and save the post. “I love shots like these! I really wanna see the night sky like that someday... Oh, how I want to lie under the stars, and be free of stress. Nothing but me and the stars, the wind, the peace and quiet...” She clasped her hands together, holding them close to her chest. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, then exhaling with a smile. You just stared, moving to face her on the sofa both of you were sitting on. Tzuyu returned to viewing more photography on her phone, and you lay there thinking about how cute she was gushing about the night sky.

-----

You had your answer.

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

“Babe! What’re you doing here?” You gave her a wave, leaning against your truck parked outside her bakery.

Chou Tzuyu ran a bakery in the city center. Her bread was one of the best you’d ever tasted. Each bun was fluffier than the clouds overhead, the taste fresher than any other bread in the world. To you, when it came to bread, it was either hers, or nothing. She put her heart and soul into every single creation of hers. If you left her alone, there was no doubt she’d eat bread for all three meals of the day, and if you left her alone for even longer, she’d turn your kitchen into her laboratory to experiment with more pastries and how to make them.

Tzuyu ran to you, almost barreling you over with how hard she hugged you. She had the brightest grin on her face, nothing hiding her happiness at seeing you outside of her workplace. She looked just like the puppies she held so dearly in her heart, so pure, so unfiltered in her happiness. If she had a tail and puppy ears, you knew her ears would be soft and relaxed, and her tail would be wagging frantically.

“Hi baby.” Tzuyu smelled like bread and butter. Whenever you met her after work, she would smell just like that. You learnt to love the smell, as where she went, the fragrance would follow. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, as both of you swayed left and right in front of your truck, uncaring of whoever saw you on the street. “How was work?” You opened the door to your truck, letting her in, before shutting it and going over to the driver’s seat.

“Good, I earned about 1.5K today, and tomorrow’s my off day!” Tzuyu closed her bakery one day a week to rest, and you loved how it fell nicely after her birthday today. You smiled, grabbing her hand, rubbing your thumb on the back of her hand. “Happy birthday, baby.” You leaned towards her, planting a kiss on her cheek. Tzuyu squealed in surprise. “Thank you, babe!”

“Come, let’s go for dinner. I have somewhere I want to take you.”

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

Dinner was relatively uneventful, though you went all out and took her to one of the best Chinese restaurants. You knew she missed home - there were days she would seem out of it, and would look at photographs of her family. Tzuyu had moved here for her studies years ago and stayed to start up her bakery. You wanted her to at least be able to taste home on her birthday. She was clearly enjoying the spread on the table, her hands moving quicker than you could imagine, grabbing tons of food off the plates. She really missed the food from Taiwan. You didn’t each much, just enough to fill you, and you let her have the rest of it. It wasn’t often she had the chance to enjoy herself like this, and you loved seeing her cut loose.

After a bit of bickering about the bill (”It’s your birthday, I’m paying!” “No, I ate so much, I should be paying!”), you led Tzuyu out, pulling her to your truck. “Let’s go, we have a lot to do tonight.” You could see Tzuyu’s curiosity, but you refused to sate it, instead pulling out of the parking lot towards your next destination. “It’ll be a long ride, let’s listen to some music.” As your speakers began to play a familiar guitar riff, Tzuyu gasped, before exclaiming, “Robbers!” Yes, both you and Tzuyu were fans of The 1975, and it was at their concert that you’d met each other. As you drove through the roads of the city at night, you could hear Tzuyu singing the song softly. You decided to join in, grabbing her hand once more, squeezing it, before beginning to sing with her.

‘She had a face straight out a magazine God only knows but you'll never leave her’

As both of you sang, you could feel Tzuyu rub your knuckles, her smile somehow audible. You knew how much she enjoyed drives at night, and cruising with her significant other was something she loved.

‘You've got a pretty kind of dirty face And when she's leaving your home she's begging you to stay, stay, stay, stay, stay’

You thought about how much you cherished her presence in your life. Since the concert, she had quickly grown from friend, to crush, to girlfriend relatively quickly, and it all stemmed from how much both of you enjoyed this song. As you let go of her hand to turn the steering wheel with both hands, you could hear Tzuyu whine at the loss of contact. Laughing, you let your hand return to hers after your truck moved towards the exit of the city. You were lucky that traffic was relatively light tonight. The truck neared the exit as the song built to the outro. Both of you fell to the emotion of the song, duetting it together as you left the city.

As you exited the city, another familiar guitar riff plays. This time, neither announced the title of the song; Tzuyu just begins singing again, and you spare a few glances at her as she vibed with the music. Under the illumination of the streetlights, she looks just as gorgeous as compared to when she was bathed in natural light. Every glance you spared her led to you gaining an epiphany - you wanted to spend more moments like this with her. While your relationship was still relatively new, you began to suspect that she might be “The One”.

“Join me!” Tzuyu taps your arm incessantly, and you snap out of your thoughts as you navigate the road. You are mostly the only vehicle on the road, with the occasional oncoming truck, or car on the other side. Discarding your train of thought, you let yourself fall to the chorus of the song.

‘Oh we go where nobody knows With guns hidden under our petticoats No we're never gonna quit it No we're never gonna quit it, no Yeah we're dressed in black from head to toe We've got guns hidden under our petticoats No we're never gonna quit it No we're never gonna quit it, no’

Both you and her cruise in the night, enjoying the songs playing from your phone connected to the speakers in your truck. The night was yours, and there were hours to burn.

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

“We’re here!”

The radio is turned down to silence, and you stop the engine of the truck. Tzuyu gets out and surveys the surroundings. You grab a mat, cushions, and some blankets from the backseat, laying them out on the back of the truck. Beside you, you hear Tzuyu’s scream of happiness as she looks up at the sky. Above you, the stars shine brighter than they ever had, the full glory of the night sky displayed in the expanse above the both of you. The wind blew around you, the night breeze chilly against your skin.

“Come, baby.” You helped Tzuyu onto the truck, passing her a small bottle of cider for her to warm herself up in the night chill. Both of you sat at the back of the truck in comfortable silence, her sipping from her bottle, while you stuck to juice, since you needed to drive. Both of you carried on gazing at the sky.

“Look, do you see the Big Dipper? That’s also called the Great Bear...”

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

‘Ring!’ A mobile phone ringtone broke the peace and quiet after your impromptu lesson. Tzuyu fished for her mobile phone, and from the screen, you could make out vague Chinese characters. Your questions were answered instantly when Tzuyu’s face lit up, and she answered with “Hello, Mama!”

You turned to your side, getting up to greet Tzuyu’s mother. After exchanging pleasantries, Tzuyu began to converse with her mother in Mandarin, which left you out of the conversation. However, you did not mind trading that for the view of your girlfriend with unbridled joy stemming from spending time with her family members. You lay back down on your side, looking up at the smile of pure happiness on Tzuyu’s face. You let your love for her show through your expressions. She was your world, your pearl, your home. She was your everything, and the flame of love in your heart was shocking, considering how strong it burnt for her.

Somewhere along the line, Tzuyu began to laugh, covering her face in shyness, before turning to you, then giggling. Her mother began to laugh, saying something in rapid Mandarin. Moments later, Tzuyu hung up, turning to you and planting a kiss onto your lips.

“What did your mother say?”

“She told me to marry you.”

“What?”

“She told me to get married to you. Her reasoning was that you looked at me like the sun shone out of my ass, and this time wasn’t the first. Every video call she’s seen it happen.”

“It’s true. I love you. Every part of you. Through your flaws, insecurities, everything. They make you who you are, and I love you.”

Tzuyu’s eyes glistened with tears. You drew her into a hug, holding on tightly to her. “Don’t cry, oh no, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m so happy. I love you so much. I really do.”

“I love you too. So much.” You broke the hug, wiping at her tears with a handkerchief you brought. “Let’s finish up before we go back.”

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

The drive back was just as fun as it was on the way there. Both Tzuyu and you were somewhat dancing while singing along to the song playing on the speakers.

‘And I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights No, I can't sleep until I feel your touch I said, ooh, I'm drowning in the night Oh, when I'm like this, you're the one I trust‘

You wanted tonight to last forever. Driving back and viewing the skyline of the city with this song as accompaniment was magical, and the experience was brought to the next level with your girlfriend- no, your world next to you.

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

“Thank you for today, babe. I loved it so much. I love you so much. Thank you.”

“No problem, baby. I love you too. Happy birthday.”

Tzuyu rose to kiss you deeply on your lips, staring deeply into your eyes after the kiss ended. “This has been the best birthday ever.” You smiled, pushing her towards her house. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Tzuyu.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

As you drove off, you thought about that ring you saw back in that jeweler’s before you left to pick her up. Maybe...

#chou tzuyu #twice tzuyu #tzuyu fluff #twice fluff #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #fluff is good for the heart #sfw #request

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teacup-crow · 3 years

Text

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

#wolf 359 #bad things happen bingo #Daniel Jacobi #isabel lovelace #w359

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

Silver lining ~ one

George Weasley x fem!reader

masterlist // playlist

warnings: i believe none, but let me know if I missed something!

A/N: so here’s the official first part! I am quite nervous to post this, but also very excited to start this series! As the start of this series, this part is still without the angst. Fun fact: I actually wrote this with my copy of Deathly Hallows next to me as reference.

word count: 2.6k

Resfeber, the start

It was only ten minutes after closing time when George and Fred ran into the flower shop you worked in.

Your boss had just left, leaving you with cleaning and closing up. You had put all the flowers on water and were sweeping the floor while listening to the music that softly played in the space. It had been a good day; there had been a lot of people and for a moment it had seemed that the war was nearly to an end.

Little did you know that that was not far from the truth.

Years later you would still remember the exact words that could be heard on the radio the moment the Weasley twins stepped hurried into your store.

Our moments don’t last forever,

But I’ll always cherish them.

It was a lousy wizards’ band and you didn’t even know the name of, or the title of the song. But that line would stay in your mind forever, as the beginning of what would be the most terrifying moment in your life.

By the look on Fred’s and George’s faces you realised that there was something going on. They looked scared and energetic at the same time. And when they spoke to you, you felt the same.

‘It’s starting,’ Fred said, his voice quivering from the tension. ‘Lupin sent us a message.’

You didn’t need to hear more. That was it. The battle that would put an end to it all and change the world forever. Whether good or bad, you didn’t know yet, but you’d be damned if you didn’t put all your efforts in.

‘Where?’ you asked, running to your coat behind the register.

‘Hogwarts,’ George answered, his eyes scared but his posture full of courage.

‘How do we get there?’

‘Disapparate in the basement of The Hog’s Head,’ Fred replied, looking around suspiciously in the street as the three of you stepped out of your store.

You locked the doors with shaking fingers and turned to the two twins. They were looking at you and you could see the hesitance in their eyes.

‘Don’t you dare think you can leave me here!’ you said looking from one to the other. They nodded solemnly, but you could still feel they weren’t happy to put you in danger with them.

‘Ready?’ Fred asked.

He put out his hand and you and George grabbed it both. You felt the heat of the boys’ hands on your own cold hand. The nerves were rushing through your body and your stomach was turning upside down already. But you knew you could do this.

‘Ready.’

Diagon Alley disappeared and the grey stone walls of The Hog’s head built up around you. In flashes you saw faces around you and after a second they became clearer; you had arrived.

The basement was crowded. Apparently more people had been messaged about the happening. You bumped into a small witch with a big red head when you tried to turn around to look for Fred and George. Their two ginger heads were floating in the crowd of people not far from you. Squeezing yourself between strangers and familiar people you reached the twins. You grabbed George’s arm and he spun around quickly in surprise, nearly throwing you over. He swiftly caught you and placed you back on your feet.

‘Sorry, didn’t see you there,’ he mumbled with red cheeks as he kept his arm around your waist.

‘Don’t worry,’ you muttered, your attention shifting to the hand in your waist, that didn’t exactly help your nerves.

The basement was filled with excited chatter. Some people were begging their friends to stay safe, others were practicing spells, someone was walking around the room handing out healing potions, but most people were looking around curiously, trying to find someone or something that would lead them into the castle.

After three minutes, Aberforth Dumbledore walked into the basement, making it silence immediately. His face looked annoyed, like he was not happy so many people had showed up to help.

‘Okay, everyone. Shut your mouths please! Right,’ the owner said and he looked lost for words.

‘Is he gonna give a speech?’ Fred whispered, while he stared at Aberforth.

‘I really got nothing to say. In a minute this painting will open and a passage to Hogwarts will be revealed. Please don’t all run in together!’ And with that Aberforth Dumbledore disappeared back upstairs.

‘That was motivational,’ Fred whispered.

‘Well, I’ve always thought that that man was a little odd,’ you muttered.

You turned around in George’s embrace to the painting and his hand slipped from your waist to your stomach. When he realised he was still holding you he quickly let go and stepped back, on the feet of Kingsley, who happened to have just walked up to the three of you. He said nothing but grimaced, making George blush and mumble an apology.

‘Good to see you here, Fred, George, (Y/N),’ Kingsley spoke with his deep, warm voice. His voice had something soothing. It made the nerves in your body calm down.

‘What happened?’ Fred asked.

‘Neville informed us that Harry had come to the castle and that he had said he wanted to find something. He didn’t say what or-’

Kingsley was cut off by the opening of the painting. The small crowd in the basement sighed as one and then started to enter the portrait. This was it. There was no turning back now. Not that you wanted to, but the option would be nice.

‘C’mon,’ Fred whispered and took you with him to the portrait.

His hand was wrapped around your wrist tightly and you felt he was nervous. You were too. Though you had been a member of the Order for a year now, you had never actually been on dangerous missions. You weren’t that ‘deep’ in the organisation; your role was being prepared if there would be a fight. Like now.

The tunnel was long, dark and narrow. Fred was walking in front of you and warned you about the bumps on the floor, warnings that you passed on to George, who was walking behind you. The longer the tunnel lasted, the more nervous you got.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, there was light at the end of the tunnel. As Fred stepped out of the passage, giving you a better view, you found yourself in a space you had never been seen before.

The room was big and full. On the sides of the walls were bunkbeds and students were sitting on them. The middle of the room was decorated—if you could call it that, as there wasn’t much decoration—like a living room. There were a few big couches and three simple armchairs around a big table. The room looked cold, with the grey walls and no windows, but it was filled with people and the sphere was not cold at all. Friends were reuniting, there was excited chatter and it felt like it was a family-reunion.

Fred and George ran to their brother and sister and you sat down on the armrest of one of the couches. Next to you sat a boy that must be a student, but you didn’t know who he was. He looked young; he was definitely not passed his fifth year. As you looked around you saw that more of the people were as young as the boy next to you. Besides the members of the Order, the room was filled with… kids.

‘Where are we?’ you asked the boy next to you.

‘Room of Requirements,’ the boy answered politely. ‘We’ve been staying here since the common rooms aren’t safe anymore.’

Your gaze slid over all the excited faces of the students in the room. They were all so young. You knew you were young too, but they were just kids. They should be worried about exams and boy- or girlfriends, not about their lives. You were filled with an intense hate for everyone that tried to destroy those kids’ lives. The boy must have noticed it, because he slowly slid away on the couch.

On the other side of the room you saw Hermione and Ron. They were talking with Lupin and Shacklebolt. You searched for Harry but you couldn’t find him. You thought that Neville had said he was at Hogwarts?

‘How you holding up?’ Fred asked as he sat down next to you.

‘Fred, these are students! They shouldn’t be here! They are so young and…’

‘Innocent?’ Fred chuckled. ‘You haven’t spoken to Ginny yet. These kids have been terrorizing Hogwarts for the past year. I agree that they are not even half capable of fighting death eaters, but they are determined. It’s their choice.’

‘I know,’ you sighed, still wishing there was a way to protect these kids.

You looked at George on the other side of the room. He was laughing with some students that were even younger than the boy you had scared a few minutes ago. The students looked nervous, but George brought a smile to their face.

‘You would make a good couple,’ Fred said.

‘Fred!’ you cried out and hit him on his shoulder.

‘Oh, come on! There is chemistry between you! You make each other laugh and you have no secrets for each other!’

‘So? I don’t have any secrets for you either! Do you keep secrets from me?’ you asked with a smirk.

Fred looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made you laugh. ‘Just think about it,’ he said, while your gaze went back to George. ‘After this is all over…’

You shook your head and watched as the portrait that hid the tunnel opened again. Mrs and Mr Weasley stepped out, followed by more elder Order-members. Mrs Weasley immediately ran over to Ron, whom she hadn’t seen in so long. Fred walked over to her and his father and left you alone.

After just five minutes someone else entered the Room of Requirements. But not from the portrait. The wall on the other side shaped a door that opened. The room silenced as one and watched the door close again without anyone walking through it.

Ron and Hermione ran to the door, while everyone else watched it suspiciously. But while Hermione and Ron made their way, suddenly Harry and Luna appeared from nothing. Everyone cheered happily and the tension was gone.

‘What is happening?’ Lupin asked as he walked over to Harry.

‘What are you doing here?’ Harry asked confused; he had been gone while everyone had come.

‘Neville sent messages to the Order,’ Fred answered.

‘What are we doing, Harry?’ George asked from the other side of the room.

‘Well, the students are being gathered in the Great Hall by McGonagall. Snape fled away,’ Harry explained. ‘We’re gonna fight.’

There was a loud roar from everyone in the room and people started to leave the Room of Requirement through the same door Harry had entered. You were dragged along by the crowd and lost sight of your friends. You only managed to get loose after a while and by then you had already walked so far, you figured it would be easier to blend in with the students and go with them to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was filled with students in their pyjamas, all wondering what could be so important that they had to get up in the middle of the night. In front of the teacher’s table, McGonagall was standing, with all the other teachers behind her. Most of them you knew, but there were a few new faces—it had been a few years since you had been at Hogwarts. Even the ghosts had assembled. They were flying over the heads of the unknowing students.

You watched as the people that had come from the Room of Requirements as well filled the empty spaced in the hall. You tried to spot Fred or George, but you didn’t see them. Where were they?

McGonagall started to explain what was going on and when she mentioned Voldemort, some people wailed. Two first-years who were seated opposite of you looked terrified at each other. Their faces had gone white.

‘It’s gonna be fine,’ you whispered to them. ‘We’ll get you out safe. I promise.’ You received two little smiles from the eleven-year olds before they continued to listen to McGonagall.

Harry entered the Great Hall, looking just as lost as you felt. His gaze slid over the tables as he walked forward. Most students looked around and started to whisper to their neighbours as they saw him.

‘We are taking the most protective measures,’ McGonagall went on. ‘But they won’t last long. It is of great importance that we get you to the point of evacuation in as little time as possible. Please, anyone under the age of seventeen or not wanting to fight follow the Head boys and girls to-’

McGonagall’s voice was drown out by another voice. High-pitched, clear and dark. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. From inside your own body and outside the castle.

‘I know you want to fight. But resistance is useless. No one can defeat me and I do not want to spill the blood of so much pure wizard blood.’ The two first-years in front of you broke down in tears as the voice cut through their own thoughts. ‘Give me Harry Potter, and I will leave you unharmed. Give me Potter, and I will leave your precious school alone. Give me Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have till midnight.’

The voice stopped as abruptly as it came. Everyone in the Great Hall was looking at Harry, who was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, frozen by all the gazes.

Outside lighting stroke on the dark sky, waking up everyone from their haze. McGonagall ordered the minors to follow the teachers to the evacuation point. The Great Hall emptied until there were only a handful of students and the Order of the Phoenix left.

‘It’s only half an hour until midnight,’ Shacklebolt spoke calmly. ‘We have to be fast…’

While Shacklebolt explained the plan, the Weasley family entered the Great Hall. Relieved you sighed and a little smile broke on your face as Fred and George sat down on each side of you. You watched the rest of their family and noticed there were some changes.

‘Where’s Ginny?’ you asked. ‘And… is that Percy?’

‘Ginny’s in the Room of Requirement. Mom wanted to send her home, but Ginny refused,’ Fred spoke.

‘And Percy decided to come back just in time,’ George added.

‘…and we need someone to protect the secret passages,’ Shacklebolt said and Fred immediately volunteered.

‘Sounds like a job for me and George!’ Fred exclaimed and Shacklebolt agreed.

‘It does. (Y/N), would you lead a group of students?’ Kingsley asked, gesturing to a group of four seventh-year Ravenclaws.

‘Sure, I would,’ you said and got up. You turned around to Fred and George and looked at them strictly. ‘Be safe, alright? And don’t have too much fun without me.’

Fred just nodded, but George suddenly put his arms around you. Taken aback by the sudden embrace, you looked shocked at Fred over George’s shoulder. He laughed at you and shot you a smirk. You rolled your eyes and patted his back.

‘Be careful,’ George whispered in your ear.

‘I will, Georgie.’

- - - - - -

taglist: general HP: @harry-pottery-barn @potters-heart @kingalrdy @missswriter @figlia--della--luna @aspiringsloth20 @awritingtree @bi-andready-tocry @lilulo-12fanfiction @ananad1 @treestarrrrrrrr @your-hispanichufflepuff @thefandomplace @theeicedamericano @girllety @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly @weasleydream @secretsthathauntus @amixedwitch @izzyyy-1 @gryffindorgirl @kitkatkl

‘general HP’ will be tagged in every part, but let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist!

MASTERLIST

#silver lining #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred weasley #weasley twins #weasley x reader

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thomaslightwood · 3 years

Text

Blackthorn Detective Agency - Part 1

KitTy Sherlock AU!

It's set in 1930s, slow burn & will have a few parts!

I'm not 100% sure where this is going but I'm already writing the second part, so we will see

Words: 3 862 (I know it's long, sorry, this part is more about the plot and the surroundings)

Kit looked at the grey sky above his head and frowned. It was going to rain. Of course.

He hasn't been in London for over a year now but he wondered how he could forget that. The bad weather, the noise, (and true to be told - very dirty) streets, the men in suits and cylinders, the women in pretty dresses, sometimes with pants. He wondered what happened to the few closet shops he was passing by. One of the many mysteries of life.

And talking about mysteries…

Kit saw at the other side of the street what he was looking for. A grey showcase, thorns all over the frame with a few simple words in the middle - "Blackthorn Detective Agency". There was a small bee on its left.

Kit fastly crossed the street, holding his hat. Some man angrily shooted, cursing the sudden wind that scattered many leaves, newspapers and even a few hats. Kit laughed. He missed London even though it wasn't the most awesome place.

He stood up in front of the agency, hesitating. He knew the guy who ran it is young, very good at what he does and known among people as Sherlock Holmes. Kit didn't know almost anything about him. What if he was a criminal? Or another kind of dangerous person?

But he remembered the look on his father's face. The empty package. Kit needed the money, no matter what kind of guy was this Sherlock.

He quietly opened the door and looked around the room as he was entering. It was kind of a lobby but a lot smaller - there was space only for two comfortable-looking armchairs, mahogany mass and a portrait hidden behind a curtain. The walls were in nice, warm colors, mainly grey and brown, a turned off radio on the desk. In the right corner, almost unnoticeable was a polished ajar wooden door.

Kit cautiously stepped towards it but then he heard voices. He stopped, grateful he was quiet while coming inside.

“... think so?” this was a woman's voice, perhaps a girl's.

“Look. All I know is that my friend disappeared a few days ago,” this was definitely a woman's voice, probably older than the first one. “He didn't show up for our meeting the next day. He didn't send a note. And…” she hesitated.

“What is it?” this time it was a male's voice.

There was a minute of silence, then:

“The only reason I come here is not because I can't do investigation on my own. It's because…” she sighed. “The last day we saw each other, exactly the day before our appointment, he told me there is a secret that was passed to him to protect. And he told me about it. Not everything, not enough details, but I'm sure he told me because he knew he may be… attacked. I think his… attackers may know about me and this would impede the investigation.“

“I understand,” the male voice again. It was a nice voice. Melodic. Kit could listen to it for hours. “I suppose you can't tell us this secret.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I definitely can't. It's not mine to say.”

After this no one said anything but Kit thought he heard a pen writing fast on a paper.

“Is there anything further you want to share?” asked the male voice.

“I don't think so,” the woman said. “Just… be careful. Find my friend. The money is not a problem.”

Kit swallowed. Money. This woman had money. Kit should get the job at all costs.

“Thank you, Miss Loss. We will do everything we can to help.”

This was followed by silence and noise of moving clothes. Tracking of heels. Kit jumped off the door, hoping he wouldn't be caught eavesdropping.

A woman with blue skin and white hair came out of the room. A warlock. She suspiciously looked at Kit but didn't say anything. She walked past him and frowned at the sky.

“London's weather is terrible, isn't it?” Kit chuckled. “Sometimes I forget.”

A shadow of a smile crossed the woman's face. “It is, indeed. That's why I brought an umbrella.”

“Lucky you. I always forget and I'm supposed to live here.”

Then a real smile appeared on her face. But she didn't say anything - just put on her gloves, took out her umbrella and went outside. As she opened her umbrella right in front of Kit her skin and hair became darker and she wasn't warlock anymore - just a regular woman in the rain.

Kit watched after her for a second then turned around. On the door's frame was leaning a girl. Not much older than Kit probably, with bright blue-green eyes that was watching him curiously. She was wearing gloves, white shirt with puff sleeves and coffee brown wide leg pants, almost as dark as her curly hair. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Kit noticed a necklace around her neck, with a gold chain and a slim disk of metal on it. On the front was a wreath of thorns - probably the family symbol.

“How can I help you?” she asked politely.

“I'm here for the job. I heard that… Sherlock… is looking for a partner.”

“Yes, that's right,” she said. “Very well. Come in.”

She turned around and got back into the room she and the other woman were in. Kit followed.

It was an office. The shelves on the walls were filled with books - some of them about mathematics and the morse code, about the body language and animals, others - mysteries and classics, fairy tales and mythology, most of which Kit didn't recognize. It was surprisingly cozy - the room was warm and smelled like ink and paper. There were a few maps on the walls - of the world, of England and of London. Three armchairs like the ones in the lobby and surprisingly many tables (at least three) on which were a few little toys and tons of well organized paper - on one was even a disassembled watch. Right against the door, no more than 5 meters away, was a big desk - it was a little messy, with a rotary dial telephone and two chairs on both sides. Probably for the clients.

There was also a board, standing close to the desk - big, see-through board on wheels with paper and written things on it. A young man was cleaning it right now.

As Kit saw him everything around faded a little and his gaze was focused only on him. How beautiful.

This was probably the most good-looking man Kit has ever seen. He was tall, taller than Kit, with messy black hair which showed he probably runs a hand through it a lot. His eyes were grey like the sky outside, carefully reading a piece of paper. He was wearing gloves, a silk white shirt, a little loosened on his neck and black trousers with braces.

This should be Sherlock, Kit thought. He didn't expect him to be so young. Hell, he probably wasn't much older than Kit.

“We have a job candidate," the blue-greened girl said and sat on one of the armchairs.

The young man lifted his gaze to look at Kit. Kit felt embarrassed. He was wearing his favorite overcoat and cap - he wasn't as elegant as the two of them.

“Hello,” he said, trying not to sound too nervous. Or desperate. “I'm here for the job. I heard that Sherlock is looking for someone helping him.”

None of them said who Sherlock was or if the guy in front of him was Sherlock. The black haired one just nodded.

“You can sit if you want.”

Kit sat. The boy took a notebook from one the piles on the desk and a pen.

“My name is Livvy. This is my brother, Ty. We run this place. Nice to meet you.”

They, Livvy actually, asked him a few basic questions - his name, age, occupation. Kit came here prepared to lie for them all. But watching the boys' - Ty's - face while he was writing down the information, he couldn't make himself tell all the lies he had prepared. Kit ended up telling them the truth. His father would be disappointed in him. Well, if he knew his son was here.

“So, Mr. Rook,” the girl started.

Kit shivered. “Please, Mr. Rook is my father. You can call me just Kit.”

“Kit, it is,” she smiled. Kit had a feeling the serious questions begin now.

After almost 30 minutes the interview was at its end.

“Final question,” Livvy said. “Tell us Kit, why do you want to work in this agency?”

Kit paused. “True to be told, it's mainly because I need the money.”

“Oh,” clearly this wasn't the answer she expected. Even Ty looked up. “Really?”

Kit shifted uncomfortably. “Well… I want to help my father and for this I need to find a job. And when I saw the inquiry in the newsletter… I told myself this is what I want to try to work.”

It wasn't the greatest answer, really. But it was the truth.

“Very well,” Livvy said. Ty wrote something in his notebook - he was doing it the whole interview. “Please, leave us alone for a few minutes.”

Kit nodded and got up. He smiled at them and turned around.

When he got out of the room the door closed tightly after him.

•

Livvy turned to him with a playful smile.

“What do you think about him?”

Ty looked at the notes he had made during the interview. Christopher, also known as Kit Rook.

“He looks like he can do the job,” Ty said.

“Oh, come on!” Livvy stepped away from the door and approached Ty's desk. “I know you liked him.”

It was true. Ty did like him. He had a nice smile.

“You're not wrong,” Ty said. “But.”

“But?” Livvy raised an eyebrow.

“I don't think he'll keep up around for long. You heard him. He's here only for the money. When he is financially stable again he'd quit.”

“Ty,” Livvy sighed. “We talked about this. We're looking for someone who will work here, no matter how long. We can't find a full time worker that fast.”

Ty ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed. He looked at the empty board. He already imagined how he filled it with paper, the possible connections and people, places and details, the web of the case - could this stranger help him solve the board?

“I know you don't like strangers,” Livvy said quietly. “But at least give him a chance. From all the people that came, he is… I don't know. Most reliable-looking, I suppose. He would talk with people and he's smart. And I have a feeling he may know a thing or two about London's criminals.”

Ty looked suspiciously at the door, even though he couldn't see Kit through it. “Do you really think he would be helpful?”

Livvy sat on the chair in front of the desk, looking amused - Ty wasn't sure why. “I think he is worth a try.”

Ty looked at his notes one more time, tapping with the pan on them. He looked at Livvy. Sighed.

“All right,” he said. “Let him in. He must hear the good news.”

Livvy smiled at him and got up. Ty almost didn't hear their conversation. Still tapping with the pen on the papers, he read again all the information Catarina Loss gave him. He should talk with some people. Check some places. To think about it.

“Ty?”

“Yes?” he looked at Livvy.

“When is Kit starting?”

Ty thought about it for a second. “Right now.”

•

Well, Kit thought. These guys are intense.

He watched, sitting on a chair, as Ty and Livvy together "prepared" for the case. Ty cleaned up one table, while Livvy moved the London's map closer to the see-through board. At some point they were finished and Livvy sat on the same chair she was sitting on during Kit's interview, while Ty remained standing.

“Let's retell get the case from the beginning,” Ty said and grabbed his notebook. “Before four days, on 10th October Ragnor Fell arrived in London, around 2 p.m. After that, around 4 p.m he and Catarina Loss met on George Street, in a restaurant whose name is unknown. They sat there no more than three hours and left between 6 and 6:30 p.m. This is the last time Catarina sees Ragnor. The next day, 11th October, they should have met at Arthur Street at 11 a.m. but Ragnor never appears.”

He looked up from his notebook and said, “Do I miss something?”

“I don't think so,” Livvy, who had written fast while her brother was talking, shook her head. She turned to Kit as she was handing the paper to Ty. “This is the 'skeleton' of the story. The very basics we know. The details come after this.”

Kit nodded, fascinated by the team they were. What was Kit even doing here? It was obvious the twins worked well together - they didn't need a third wheel.

“Now,” Ty said slowly, looking at the paper with the information Livvy wrote on. “Ragnor told Catarina the secret during their meeting on 10th, correct?” On another list, which he pinned next to the first one, he carefully started to write what he just said. He was making a timeline, Kit realized.

“Correct,” his sister said. “Also, in the same conversation he mentioned he's going to meet with a person named Raphael Santiago, but it's unclear when and where.”

Ty wrote that too.

Then he stared at it, tapping the pen on his hand.

“Do we know when he comes from?” Kit suddenly asked.

They both turned their heads at him at the same time. A little creepy but impressive.

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking about Ragnor and his train. Do we know where the train started from? Or from where Ragnor was before arriving here?”

Ty intensely searched his journal. “I don't think so.”

“It's probably not important anyway…”

“It may be,” Ty just said and took one more paper, wrote something on it and pinned it on the other side of the list with the 'skeleton'. “This is the first thing we're going to check tomorrow.”

For a few more hours they discussed the case. It was Ty mostly and Livvy. Kit was only following their conversations (and Ty's monologues), adding some little details time to time.

He was amazed. After spending a few hours in their company he could understand why "Blackthorn Detective Agency" had this reputation.

Kit looked at the clock on his hand and stood up. “I'm sorry but I have to go.”

It was almost 6 p.m. His father would wonder where he was.

“All right,” Livvy said. “Come here tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. Or earlier.”

Kit shivered. So early. But he only nodded and left.

•

Kit was running down the street. The wind was blowing in his face, his lungs were burning. He could barely stop in front of the door of "Blackthorn Detective Agency". Kit took one deep breath and entered.

Ty was in the lobby, sitting on one of the armchairs. He was reading his notes, in one hand holding a calabash pipe and in the other - his journal.

He glanced at Kit. “You're late.”

“I'm sorry,“ Kit said. It was his first day - it was a bad impression to be late, wasn't it? “I didn't correctly estimate how long it would take me to get here. I promise it won't happen again.”

“Good,” Ty said, closing his notebook. He got up from the armchair and grabbed the overcoat that was on the other.

He was as tall and handsome as yesterday. Under the overcoat he was wearing clothes similar as the day before - only the shirt was green. The braces remained the same.

“Let's go.”

“Shall we not wait for Livvy?”

“She is not coming with us.”

“Oh. All right.”

Ty eyed him as they were leaving the building. “Are you disappointed?”

“Well. No. Just surprised I suppose.”

Ty seemed like he accepted his answer. They walked side by side on the street.

“Where are we going? To the train station?”

“We shall,” Ty said. “But our first stop is Ragnor's apartment because it's closer. Then we'll take a taxi to the train station.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked together in the chilly London. Kit could see his breath in the air. The streets were rather empty. Maybe it was because it was too early? Anyway, he liked it this way. It was calm.

“So,” Kit said. “Why do you choose to call yourself Sherlock? Where does it come from?”

“Livvy came up with it,” Ty said, glancing around the street. Maybe he was searching for Ragnor's apartment. “And I'm not Sherlock.”

Kit was so shocked he stopped walking for a second. Then he caught up with Ty and asked, “Wait, you're not Sherlock Holmes? Then who is it?”

“Well,” Ty said and turned towards the street on the left. “It's Livvy and I. Although she probably will disagree.”

“Interesting,” Kit said absently. This explained some things. Like why no one could tell how Sherlock looked or his age. Even if he was male or female even though most people thought it's a man.

“This is it,” Ty said and they stopped in front of a tall but narrow building, reminiscent of a tower. “I believe Ragnor's apartment is on the third floor.”

Instead of entering the building from the main entrance, they went around to the rear entrance. While they climbed the stairs (because around the elevator too many people would see them), Kit asked, “Do you have a key to the apartment?”

“No,” Ty simply said.

“You say we're going to break in?”

“Well, technically, yes. But Catarina Loss said we should do everything we can to find him. Even if this includes "some not so legal actions", in her words.”

“Dear god,” Kit murmured. “So, we, kind of, have her permission to break in her friend's apartment?”

“That's right.”

Does he know how to do that? Kit thought but didn't say it. He probably knew. This was Sherlock Holmes (or at least half of it).

They quietly sneaked throughout the floor, until Ty stopped in front of room 66B.

He frowned at it.

“What is it?” Kit said.

“It seems that the lock is not... what I expected it to be,” Ty sounded deeply displeased when he said it.

Kit signed. He didn't want to seem like a criminal but desperate situations require desperate measures.

“Have you brought some instrument to open the door?” Kit said, already looking at the lock. “Small screwdriver perhaps? Or something like it?”

“I did,” Ty said absently, tapping with his foot. He was probably thinking of other ways to open the door without breaking it. Well, with a bit of luck Kit was going to do it for him.

“Can you give it to me? I want to try something.”

For a second Ty just looked at him but did as Kit asked.

Kit took the little object and kneeled in front of the door. The lock was better than he expected from a place like this but nothing unbearable.

After a few minutes, a few clicks and pressure on the mechanism Kit unlocked it. He stood up and gave the screwdriver back to Ty.

Ty was looking at him with amused eyes. “Unexpected but very helpful. Thank you.”

Kit felt warm and smiled. He wasn't used to people complimenting him. Shyness he didn't know existed in him woke up and he just said, “Nothing special. You're welcome any time.”

Ty gave him a thoughtful look for a second but didn't say anything.

They walked in the Ragnor Fell flat. It was a rather simple room. Pale red wallpapers, boring green sofa. A dresser and a desk with a few books about Spanish language on it. Bookshelf and a few plants. In the end of the room was a door, as boring as everything else here, that was probably the bedroom.

“This doesn't make sense,” Ty said, looking around the room. He approached the desk and looked at the books.

“What? That this flat is awfully boring for a warlock to live in? If so, yes, you're right.”

“No. I mean,” Ty ran a hand through his hair. “You have a point. I suppose. But I meant that such a warlock as him would protect his own flat at least. We get into it too easy. There were no spells, no protection, nothing. This is strange.”

Kit closed the door to the apartment and stepped in it. “Maybe he just didn't have the time?”

Ty shook his head, opening a drawer in the desk. It was empty. “Between his meeting with Catarina and his arrival in London are two whole hours. After that too, if we guess he hasn't been kidnapped right after meeting her.”

“Fair point.”

Kit looked around as well, approaching the door. There really wasn't anything interesting. Most of the books were classics, the sofa looked old but unused. Kit opened the door to the bedroom which creaked quietly.

This room was even simpler. One big bed, two nightstands on both sides of it and one more wood door, probably for a bathroom or closet. At one of them though there was a frame. As Kit took it in his arms he saw it was a black and white photograph. In the middle Kit recognized Catarina Loss - she was smiling quietly with crossed on her chest arms. On the right was a tall guy with cat eyes and a big smile, maybe a little drunk.

Kit decided the man on the left was Ragnor - he couldn't imagine a guy like the other one would live in place like this. Maybe-Ragnor looked grumpy and annoyed but Kit could see in his sparkling eyes that he was happy. He probably loved his friends but would never admit it.

On the right corner with a thick pen was written 'Peru,1890'.

“Did you find something?”

Kit looked a little startled at Ty. He almost forgot they were here to investigate. Almost.

“Something,” Kit repeated. He handed the frame to Ty and watched as his grey eyes were running through the photo.

“Peru, 1890,” he said thoughtfully. “This photography is from more than 40 years ago.”

“It's the only personal piece here. Probably in the whole flat, except the Spanish books.”

“You have a point,” Ty agreed. “But this is not his-”

A sharp sound interrupted him. It was the front door. Someone was trying to break it.

Kit breath stopped. Before he could do anything Ty grabbed his arm, opened the wood door and dragged them both inside.

Ty closed the door to the narrow dark room. Kit couldn't see anything. The only material thing was Ty's body against him. A moment later they heard how the stranger broke the lock and their steps as they came inside.

To be continued...

#kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kitty #tda #tsc #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #livvy blackthorn #kit rook #history au #alternate universe #1930s au #tsc fanfiction #sherlock holmes #sherlock au #sav's writing #my post

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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years

Text

Måneskin Group Chat- Chapter 5

(Ok so I will be a decent human being and give y’all a bit more of a warning. So when I wrote the angsty plot last night i was feeling dramatic so now i have to listen to sad music so i can get in the mood for writing what i hope will be the last non-text chapter. Anyway, once this is posted my writing is no longer my problem so be cautious)

Warnings: my writing, language

“Ethan”

His name echoed in my head over and over again, a beautiful song with no end, an orchestra made of nature’s most delicate creatures. The sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling as the wind softly blows them all around...that’s what hearing and saying his name felt like. As if the sun suddenly peeked through an endless sea of stormy clouds. Everything began warming up, all doubts and worries left my mind, as if on instinct, so that it can be filled with the one thing that truly healed it, the one thing that truly healed my soul- my darling Ethan.

“Y/N?” Damiano asked from the drivers seat, again, and thus succeeding at making me stop thinking about Ethan, for a second time. I was close to killing him.

“What is it” I asked sharply. “We’re home” he responded, with a soft look on his face.

Oh. Shit.

Now this was very much not a fairytale anymore and the peaceful sound of birds chirping turned into an irritating non-stop alarm that scratched my ears. Focusing on all of the things that bothered me, I forgot to get out of the car, thus having Thomas slowly picking me up and putting me on the alley-way.

“You know what I realised” I said, softly looking at the sky.

“You’re in love with Ethan?” asked Victoria with a cheeky expression on her face

“What? No Im not Ethan is my best friend and I do- O MY FUCKING GOD” My face fell at the sudden realisation . Behind me i could hear three people losing their shit laughing. The world was spinning under me and the corners of my eyes turned black.

“Holy Fuck Victoria why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier you dumbass YOU LEFT ME ALONE!” I kept on rambling trying to find an excuse for being in this overwhelming nerve-wrecking minefield of an emotion. Meanwhile, I am pretty sure I heard Damiano trying to help Thomas up, after he inevitably fell down from laughing too hard. At me.

A sudden wave of embarrassment rushed over me. “What the fuck guys! First you kidnapp me, then you tell me i love Ethan and now you’re laughing at me!?

Vic wiped a tear and tried to answer through giggles “Im sorry cucciola but the way you reacted to it all is just hilarious! I mean it literally is like that audio on tik tok with the piano song- at first its soft and peaceful, just like you were in the car ride here, and then the realisation hit, and, in perfect sync with the music you realised the clownery of it all!

I heard a howling laughter coming from behind me. I turned to see Damiano on his knees, choking and struggling to breathe, as he was cackling even harder than before. “Shut up” I muttered quickly and went inside.

I quickly made my way up the creaky stairs and ran to the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and let my emotions overwhelm me. My night had gone horribly wrong. I was right. I knew I wasn’t made for these things. God, what was my poor date even thinking. What was I thinking? Was I really in love with Ethan?

I kept sobbing and shaking until I heard a light knock on the door. I tried to wipe away my face quickly but it was too late. In a moment I had Ethan’s strong arms wrapped around me, bringing me the comfort i so badly wanted. “Shh, princess, it’s alright. You don’t have to think about anything right now” He had no idea how much those words meant to me. No idea how much he meant to me. I snuggled my face in the crook of his neck, as he shifted his weight so that we could both sit comfortably. He started humming lightly, and his vibrations only soothed me further. His fingers started playing with my hair, before going to my shoulders and massaging them lightly. I slowly closed my eyes, and noticed how I had unconsciously matched my breathing with his. He smelt like sandalwood and a dark stormy day, a scent which for years comforted me deeply. I slowly started feeling his muscles flexing as he picked me up and took me to his bedroom. He laid me down on the mattress and got right behind me. He helped take off my clothes and did the same with his. All we were now was a tangled mess of limbs.

I started becoming incredibly aware of everything. His breath on my neck, his calloused hands sliding up and down my bare back, barely even grazing it. I shivered and his eyed immediately met mine. “Are you cold, cara mia?” “No, don’t worry about it.” I snuggled into him even further, and soon there was nothing between us. Not even air.

For the first time that night, I felt at peace. As if nothing was in its wrong place, as if i wasn’t doing something bad or that I would regret. I knew what Victoria had said, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. Thinking back to all the moments Ethan had tried to express his emotions to me- offering me a warm cup of coffee every morning, offering to take care of my goats, despite being quite furious with my purchase initially. His actions spoke louder than his words. As if on cue, he tightened his arms around my waist and left a chaste kiss on my neck.

“Ethan” i muttered half-asleep. “Yes darling” His eyes were closed, no frown on his face and all of his muscled relaxed. He looked so at peace, so young. I smiled slightly and brought my forehead to his. Our noses touched, and thats when he opened his eyes too. I was met with his sleepy but affectionate gaze, dark and striking, reading all of my secrets.

“What were you going to say cucciola?” His eyes never once left mine, only gently bringing me back to reality. I smiled and brushed a hair strand behind his ears. “I’m in love with you.” His eyes widened. He scanned my face to see if he heard me right and i only smiled to reaffirm my words. His lips were instantly in mine, capturing them in what felt like the most passionate kiss I ever had. We moved in sync as he brought his hands up to cup my face, and I couldn’t help but smile. We pulled apart, no longer being able to breathe, but staying so close we could hear each other’s heartbeat. “ I’m in love with you as well”. He kissed me once more, then pulled me back into his arms. He brushed my hair again and with that, we both drifted to sleep.

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

I was awoken by a few light beams filtering through the curtains. Behind me, I felt someone breath evenly as their arms held me close. My mind wandered back to the events of last night. We were off to a rocky start, but it was all forgiven once I came home to him.

Y/n tried to turn softly so that she wouldn’t wake Ethan up. Now facing him, she couldn’t help but admire his soft features. She left a few soft kisses on his cheek, before lightly brushing her lips with him. At that, the boy in front of her opened his eyes, and smiled brightly. He cupped her cheek and brought their faces together, kissing her once more.

The pair stayed cuddled like this for a few more minutes before heading downstairs. Y/n approached the coffee machine and turned it on, while Ethan took some leftover patisserie from yesterday. After all of the food was on the table, Y/n went to sit down, only to be interrupted by Ethans grunt. He took a seat on one of the chairs and beckoned her to come closer. “C’mere amore”. Y/n did as she was told and went to sit on his lap. They ate together in silence, listening to the soft tunes playing on the radio.

Out of nowhere, they heard some giggling. They both turned around and saw three heads peeking from the staircase. Y/n rolled her eyes and sighed gravely, earning a chuckle from Ethan. The three musketeers who created so much chaos the previous night, emerged from their poor hiding spot singing Italy’s National Anthem.

Y/N scoffed at that and Ethan smirked. “So, who finally confessed” asked Victoria cheekily. “We both did, but Ethans came second” Y/n said proudly. Now it was Ethan’s turn to scoff. Thomas, who was still pissed that he had been woken up so early stole the remaining croissant out of Y/Ns plate and ate it in one bite. The rest of the band sat down and enjoyed some coffee too, as Y/Ns goats kept bugging the poor guitarist.

“Well, Im glad the issue between you two has been fixed. I was starting to choke on all that tension” said Damiano out of nowhere.

“Ha ah very funny” answered Ethan, his face completely blank. Y’N turned around and kissed him once more, to keep Damiano on Ethan’s good side.

The rest of their day was similar. Soft touches, random glances filled with love, kissed in between the bands’ practice sessions...

Truth be told, no one was happier than the two lovers who no longer kept their feelings hidden under the mask of friendship.

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Omg so I was listening to some classical music and just as I was getting to the mushy parts it started playing a circus theme omg the universe is talking to me and im afraid its not good.

Anyway i hope you liked it, i will definitely continue chapter 6 as being chaotic and sarcastic, however , if yall want to, i could possibly write some blurbs with ethan x reader.

Until then, y’all can wait until the next chapter cuz its seven am and i have a long and empty day ahead of me

#victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #damiano david #maneskin #måneskin #this shit took the life out of me

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction | Boyfriend Tag [Request]

Seokjin:

You couldn't even remember how this all started but you were sitting across from Jin during a VLive eating noodles while he was asking you questions about himself to see how well you knew him. Army was going insane for it because you'd been together for so long they wanted to see if you really knew Jin,

"Which university did I go to?" He asked right as you took a mouthful of noodles into your mouth, you swallowed them and wiped your mouth staring at him,

"Easy, Konkuk University and then Hanyang Cyber University." You smirked at him as he ticked off that you'd gotten another one right that he had written down,

"Next one." You giggled looking at him as he frowned, you'd gotten everything right so far which was no surprise considering you'd been dating for a while.

"What do I tell people my favourites movies are but what are they really?" He always changed what he told people his favourites were so you were struggling,

"You've been telling people it's horror lately but we both know you hide behind me when we watch them and I know your favourites are anything with Disney princesses." He wrote down that you were right again making you laugh as you took a drink of coffee and watched him,

"Languages?"

"Chinese, English, a little Japanese and of course, Korean." You smirked over at the camera and saw that the comments were going faster as you were getting question after question,

"When did I join BigHit?"

"2010 and you trained for four years." You pushed noodles into your mouth and he threw the pen and pad down onto the table biting into his own food,

"Do I know you enough?" You giggled looking at him as he playfully glared at you,

"You know me too well." You poked your tongue out at him and he turned to look at Army to see if they knew the answers as well which most of them did but the rest of them were too busy laughing about how pouty Jin was being about everything.

Yoongi:

Though he would never admit it Yoongi was liking this a lot more than he was putting out to the camera, he loved the fact that you made Youtube videos and that he got to feature in them, he loved that you always asked him to do videos with you when he wasn't working because he got to spend more time with you. Right now was a fan suggested video and it was to do the Boyfriend Tag with him everyone knew that you were together since there was a release about it in the magazines and online about your relationships,

"Easy one, what else do I want to do besides produce and make music?" You looked at him and then smiled,

"Radio DJ, which is why you're always doing your little VLive Fm's." You smiled and he smirked at you, he adored how well you knew him.

"Okay next one, Why am I named Suga and Agust D?" You were thinking on it for a second, you'd had that conversation a couple of days ago.

"Okay, Suga is because the first syllables are from shooting guard which was your position and then Agust D is Suga backwards with DT Because of Daegu Town." He stared at you with a smile on his lips, he was just getting more and more impressed by how well you knew him.

"My ideal date night?"

"Either a night in together, movies, a walk and something to eat or taking a huge nap together." You said as you looked at him, remembering your most recent date which was literally both of you falling asleep on the sofa watching a movie,

"How many hours of sleep do I get?"

"Five, because you're fucking weird and can't sleep more than that." You grumbled looking at him and then over at the camera,

"He won't even lay there and just cuddle me either." You pouted causing him to lean over and kiss your cheek,

"Shut up." He mumbled against your skin making you giggle at him.

(yall dont understand the harships i go through when i see multiple gifs i wanna use)

Hoseok:

It was Jungkook's idea, you were all bored sitting inside of a hotel room since it was pouring it down with rain and none of you could go out. Now it was a test to see who knew Hobi better between you and Yoongi and you were currently winning which was surprising you since Yoongi and Hoseok had been hanging around together a lot longer than you had,

"What did I get a bronze medal for?" You looked at Yoongi who was still thinking on it,

"Tennis match," You said to Hoseok who smirked writing down a point for you on the whiteboard that they had,

"This is all fresh in your memory that's the only reason you know it." Yoongi chuckled looking at you as you pretended to be offended.

"What company did I originally audition for?"

"Jyp." You got out just before Yoongi did and the boys let out a chorus of 'Oh's' making Yoongi glare at them playfully, you giggled at them and then looked at Hobi.

"Make them harder baby." You whined looking at Yoongi who was already struggling enough he didn't need them to be harder.

"What school did I go to?" You and Yoongi fell into silence and stared at one another, you knew it it was right on the tip of your tongue.

"Collaborative point?" You questioned and Yoongi nodded as you tried to think of the answer together,

"Isn't it..." You leant over and whispered into his ear and he nodded,

"Academy for Rap and dance in Gwangju?" You both asked in sync looking at Hoseok who was laughing at you both,

"Yes, last one...Name of my old street dance team?"

"Neuron." You shouted out making the boys all laugh as you won the round and started dancing around the hotel room,

"They cheated!" Yoongi yelled at you looking at you and Hoseok as you started laughing together

Namjoon:

"Jin this is stupid, why do we have to see who knows him better it's clearly me." You laughed as Jin got ready for another round of questions from Namjoon who looked like he was getting bored of the game that Jin had arranged for all three of you.

"You're just saying that because you're losing." You stared at Jin and then at Namjoon who had a point sheet in his hands,

"She's winning actually...She's ahead by four points." Jin stared at Namjoon who was staring back at him,

"Next four questions are worth two points each." You agreed to the terms and got ready to answer,

"Where did I study?" You slapped your knee meaning it as your turn to answer first.

"New Zeland." You answered looking to your side to see Jin sighing and throwing his head back,

"I'll take one point for each one I get right, you take four if you get one right." You giggled and he pushed you softly,

"Deal."

"When did I release Mono?" You gave Jin a couple of seconds before you slapped your knees,

"October 23rd 2018."

"How do you remember the exact date?!" Jin yelled giving up and looking at you, you were giggling as he started to talk so fast he was rapping again.

"Last one!" Namjoon yelled making you both calm down,

"Ideal date?"

"No, new question. She'll know that easily." You nodded in agreement and Namjoon thought about another question,

"When did I change my stage name?"

"2017...November?" You said looking at him with a raised eyebrow he nodded, Jin threw down his pieces of paper and walked out of the dorm living room giving up and leaving you and Namjoon alone.

"You owe me ice cream!!" You screamed after him listening out as he slammed his bedroom door.

Jimin:

Jimin had been binge-watching couple videos all week and he decided that he wanted to do one like it on VLive with you and because Army loved you both together they decided to agree to watch it finding entertaining with how far Jimin had gotten into it, he'd made a banner for the backdrop, had a buzzer for you to push and even had helplines ready in case you needed them. He was treating it like a little gameshow but so far you were doing amazingly and hadn't used any lifeline, or needed help from Army because you knew him that well.

"Final four questions," He said to the phone looking back at you with a smile,

"What school did I transfer from and which one did I go to?" He questioned looking at you and glancing over at the phone to see Army already answering,

"You went to Busan High School of Arts and went to Korea Arts High School with Tae." He cheered and moved onto the next question,

"What are some of my hobbies outside of BTS?"

"Being with friends and family, reading comics and romance novels that you don't tell anyone about and staying on your phone for hours." He stared at you as you outted him about the secret romance book collection he was growing but moved on,

"What was my old motto?"

"Something like 'Let's keep trying till we can't do it anymore?" He nodded and moved onto the last question, all of them had been relatively easy...or for you at least they had but you had been together for a long time.

"What am I most confident about with myself?"

"Your eyes, but you should be confident about everything because you're perfect." He pushed a button on his phone which filled the room with fake clapping and cheering and you giggled as he brought you close to his chest and hugged you lovingly.

Taehyung:

It was all his idea, he'd been watching some videos online where he watched couples seeing if they knew each other well enough and now you were sitting on the sofa quizzing back and forth about one another,

"Who's my biggest role model?" He asked looking over at you with a smirk, he hadn't spoken about it much but you remembered him mentioning it once in front of the boys,

"Your dad, you said you wanted to be like him. Someone who listens and takes care of his children encourages them about their future and helps them." He smiled at you and nodded along with you telling you that you were right, he answered your question next and it was his turn again.

"Who are some of my closest friends besides the boys?"

"Park Bogum, Sungjae, Minjae, Baekhyun, Mark, and Minho....Tae you have too many friends for me to count." You grumbled looking at him while he laughed.

"Okay, okay...What would I do if I wasn't an Idol?"

"Photographer, or a painter...You've never said you wanted to be a painter but you should, you're really good at it." You complimented reaching across to the bowl of popcorn which was sitting on his lap, you put some in your mouth and he copied you.

"When did I get Yeontan?"

"2017 around December time." He stared at you as you fired off every question he gave you with a smile on your face.

"I just know you too well baby, now what's my reward?" You giggled looking at him, he slowly moved the bowl onto the table and kissed you roughly.

"Me. I'm the reward." You giggled at him as he continued to kiss you.

Jungkook:

Having a personal Twitter account to keep up with Army was fun, you spent a lot of time on there with Jungkook looking through accounts that you loved and showed him when you interacted with certain Army.

"What if Jungkook and Y/n did a twitter video asking questions about one another?" You read out looking at the phone and Jungkook stared up at you thinking it was a great idea,

"We should! It'll show how well we know one another." You stared at him thinking about it for a moment,

"Okay!" You got questions ready and he went first, sitting in front of you as you got the camera ready.

"Quickfire round, four questions each that's it." He told you as he took out the piece of paper he was holding with his questions already written down on.

"Okay, I'm ready." You told him looking at the phone and smiling,

"Favourite time of year?"

"When it's sunny but not too hot." He smiled and nodded moving onto the next one,

"What do I have a blackbelt in?"

"Taekwondo." He smirked and moved on,

"Do you know how many tattoos I have?" There were so many that kept appearing you were losing count,

"17?" You guessed looking at him and he nodded his head from side to side,

"About that yeah, okay why did I join BigHit?"

"You fell in love with Joonie and decided that was why you wanted to join." He chuckled moving over and kissing you on the lips, you'd edit it out later not wanting to get into trouble for having skinship online. Army loved it and started asking you to do more videos like that together, and it developed into a regular thing where you would film a video together every friday.

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @btsiguess-kpop @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii

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nolansnose · 3 years

Text

To my moots: I did A THING. Wrote a lil something. A Nolpat imagine *gasps*

This is unfinished and I will only be updating this everytime Patty gets a point or better yet, score a goal!

Edited and rb'd because this has been updated!

(With added steam 🙈)

Summary: Surprise!

Nolan Patrick x whoever you wanna pair him with in your head

UNTITLED

They hadn't exchanged any kind of communication in three weeks. That kind of radio silence from both their ends wasn't normal. It has been a month since they saw each other last, they were both busy --- she with the endless demands and responsibilities of being the new executive assistant to the director of medical services while Nolan was training in preparation for the incoming season.

It amazes her how they were able to give each other attention in the past year and how they haven't given up on each other. It wasn't easy, it's daunting at times, at least for her.

For someone with such a demanding job and schedule, she truly couldn't figure out how she was able to give time to Nolan.

She didn't understand how someone like her was able to pique his interest or that he continued to give her attention, well, not until these past few weeks. She may be busy but during moments that she wasn't thinking about work, Nolan makes sudden, sometimes unwelcome appearances in her thoughts.

Unwelcome because she shouldn't be thinking about him. They're not... Argh! She sighed and put down the book she's trying so hard to understand in her lap. She's in an old cottage by the beach, alone for this long weekend, her first non work related trip after a long while since being appointed and she's alone. She should be relaxing, resting, eating sumptuous meals and reading this... Shit it was Nolan who gave her this book. Why did she pick this one to bring? She sighed again and tried for the nth time to relax in the couch she was perched on. She put her feet up in the arm rest and reached for the tea in the side table to drink but grimaced as its already cold.

As cold as the weather that wasnt apt for the place she was in. Beaches are made for warm, summery weather, not rain and cold drafts. She looked out the window and shook her head because it was still raining. The rain peltering the roof was loud and... what was that?

She heard something beside the raindrops. Footsteps. Rustling. Knocking? Was someone knocking?

But she wasn't expecting anyone.

Still, she stood up and headed for the kitchen which was near the parking area of the resort she was in. She clutched her chest when she saw another shadow beside the plants outside. Shit! A thief? But this was an exclusive resort!

She grabbed the fruit bowl in the counter and headed for the kitchen door. There was that sound again. Footsteps. And knocking.

She took a deep breath and raised the bowl above her head, ready to whack whoever was on the other side of that door. She unfastened the locks and opened the door.

"Fuck!", the 'intruder' called out and caught the bowl before it made contact with his face.

"Nolan?", she blinked.

The newcomer put down the bowl and raised the hood of his jacket. "Hi,"

"I thought you were a thief!"

Nolan looked at her with amusement. " I knocked but there was no answer."

"When was that? I didn't hear anything."

"Uh, five minutes ago?", he asked as he grabbed a clean towel out of the basket on the washing machine near the door. "May I?"

She exhaled loudly while moving away from the door so Nolan could dry his shoes in the mat and removed his jacket which was also wet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. How did he even know she was here? Oh. Right. She remembered telling him about this weekend trip the last time they were together.

"I missed you," he said. "You didn't text or call."

"You never did, too," she pointed out.

"Hey, I called," he said with a bit of pain in his voice.

"When did you call?"

"Are you going to let me come in or do I have to defend myself by your kitchen door?"

"What's that for?", she asked having glanced at his backpack.

"Change of clothes. I've been in town for a few days, actually ", he replied honestly.

She gave him another quick look before going back to retrieve the cup of tea in the living room and brought it up in the kitchen to heat in the microwave. She felt his eyes on her while she set the timer.

"Chamomile?", Nolan asked just as he put down his already opened backpack in the kitchen counter and took out a clean pair of socks.

She didn't know whether to be irritated or happy that he remembered her preference. Normally, she'd appreciate it but now she felt cornered. Vulnerable. She came here to unwind, rest and think, -- to escape from all that's troubling her -- that included Nolan.

Yep, trouble. That's Nolan, alright. What else would you call the man who chose to entangle himself with someone like her? Even for a weekend, she wanted a break. She wanted him out of her head, her body and her bed.

"You still haven't answered why you're here," she took the mug out of the oven and set it on the counter. She caught the smirk on his face. "What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nolan took a step towards her and tenderly caressed her arm."Didn't you miss me?"

She looked up into his eyes to see a worry there she didn't normally see.

They've talked about their situation a handful of times before, where they're headed eventually. Together they've decided that its better if no one else knew whatever kind of relationship they were to have.

She can't remember exactly how that topic came about, but they wound up in bed together before defined lines were ever set.

This, whatever this was, has gone on for a year, a short time compared to others. She knew she shouldn't keep her hopes or expectations up, but sometimes, she gets tired of her feelings being hurt from a misunderstanding because nothing was solid or made public. Sometimes the feelings were his. Sometimes he acted jealous or frustrated because she behaved in a way that made him question the exclusivity they had agreed on a year ago.

"Not at all?" His low, lazy voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

She shook her head. "No."

He leaned into her some more, their closeness made her feel like she's drowning. "Liar."

Then his mouth met hers and she instinctively opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter. He tasted sweet and salty like caramel popcorn. He satisfied every urge and each craving.

A whimper escaped her throat and he had her pushed against the counter with one hand in her hair as the other lifted her leg and grabbed her ass. He knew how to completely envelop her into a whirlwind of sex. It started out with a kiss as it always did.

And this kiss grew more fervent and she felt a familiar hardness push against her in just the right place. He made her feel sexy and desirable in a way that she revelled in. His kisses were addictive.

Its hard to reclaim her sanity everytime they ended up like this, like he drained whatever courage she had left. But before she could totally gave in, she held Nolan's arm firmly and pushed him away from her. He moaned a little as a protest but moved away and let her right herself.

The desire for her was evident in his eyes, in his jeans and she tried not to look but his scent, his kiss lingered. She was still dazed and her heart was beating wildly.

"What?" He asked as he touched the edge of his mouth.

"We can't continue this, Nolan", she insisted.

He shook his head. "We're not doing anything we haven't done bef----"

"No", she cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "This as in hiding. We thought it wont get this complicated given our work and who we are, we thought it'd be easy. None of this is easy, Nolan."

"Thank you for saying we, instead of you," he nodded as he answered. "Seriously. We both said this unofficial exclusive thing would be easy and a breeze and I'm glad you didn't pile the blame for your feelings just on me."

She looked at him carefully. Sometimes, his prankness still startled and overwhelmed her. She hoped and tried hard for its effect to not register on her face.

"Whoa," he said with one eyebrow raised when her gaze turned squinty. "Why are you looking at me like I just told you I'm getting married or something?"

"Let's end this, Nolan," she said in a faint voice, then grabbed the mug of tea again.

She felt him observing her eventhough her attention was on the tea she's drinking.

"You already said that four months ago."

"This time I meant it." She said in a voice lacking of conviction.

#nolan please shoot the pucks more #nolan patrick #nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #this fic is a one time thingy

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adsosfraser · 3 years

Text

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Four

Read on AO3

cw: medical trauma/abuse

They stripped her to the bone and prodded her towards the corner with the spigot about a metre above her head. Their eyes were focused intently on her every move, calculating each misstep. One of her guards called out into the hall and the water surged down in high pressured spurts. She had been naked with strangers before. Had been dressed by them. Bare and vulnerable. Mrs. Fitz came to mind. But this was not anything like that, it felt demeaning, dehumanising. It was intended to humble her.

The other guard threw a bar of soap which Claire fumbled with and fell to the floor. The grime on the floor had built up for years and mould dotted the edges of the shower. She scrunched her nose at the thought of picking the soap up from such an environment, but the stares of the guards burrowed deep into her skin.

“Two minutes.”

Claire carefully traced the spot above her heart. It stung less than before when she was weaned off of the pain medication. Claire was heavily sedated for those six days in hospital. She felt like she had when she returned through the stones, a crushing weight bearing down on her body. And she was all alone. Her injury was monitored until she could be properly transferred to Danvers State Hospital, or rather the Danvers Lunatic Asylum, where they placed her unceremoniously in her cage-like room. The pounding force of the shower left a dull pain, almost opening the wound on her breast again. She scrubbed the dirt, the pain off of her skin until she felt she had no skin left.

Claire was soon in the plain cotton uniform they provided everyone. Her hair flew wildly above her head because she was unable to comb through her curls. They at least deemed her safe enough to not need restraints on top of the guards that flanked her. How kind. Those were reserved for the more violent afflictions.

She watched as her tangled curls floated down to the tiled floor around her feet. Her hair was shorn to about her chin to conform with the other patients.

The institute had yet decided what to do about her condition, which they concluded was melancholia and the hysteria which accompanied it. All unnecessary consequences of her female persuasion.

“I assure you, sir, I am perfectly fine. Now if I could just speak to my husband.” She forced herself to put out the last word.

“He is still considering the terms of your release and treatment. You gave Mr. Randall quite a shock.” Doctor Lionel Brown quirked his eyebrows at his patient, placing the pairs of his pointer and middle finger against his lips in thought.

“I know. Now if you’d just-“

A knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Anderson you may come in.”

“Mrs. Randall, this is Mr. Anderson, our specialist in mood disorders. He’s shed some insight with me earlier about what may be best in order for you to be released. If you don’t mind, Mr. Anderson.”

“I think our electroshock therapies would be very conducive for her recovery. When repeated twice a week, these treatments help ease pain and reduce memories that are hard to pass on their own.” Anderson glanced at Doctor Brown and continued. “Another option if the treatments are unable to hold and improve your condition is the transorbital lobotomy which is guaranteed to permanently improve it. I can assure you ma’am this avenue has been thoroughly researched and our patients report a calm demeanour within weeks of the operation.

“I highly doubt that’s necessary sir.” Claire scoffed.

Claire slumped in her chair and considered for a second. She could be free of the pain, of the man who haunted her every waking moment. She could stop mourning her husband, her family at Lallybroch, and her children. Maybe she would forget and finally be able to return to Frank as Jamie had intended. But she could never forget Jamie, no matter what happened to her. Her mind may forget but her soul would always keep him within her.

It was four doors later that she reluctantly followed one of the nurse’s in the ward down the dreary halls. No matter her reluctance to it, her treatments would begin according to the doctor’s schedule.

Claire was instructed to take off her shoes as she entered the room. She glanced around the room only to be met with unfamiliar faces. She had comforted the woman who went before her who was convulsing and writhing on the treatment table. Claire tried to soothe her and soon her breathing evened out and a dazed look took over her face. There was no fighting this. If Claire refused to comply, it would be much worse. The woman slouched to the floor and began her walk away from the machine.

The orderly wiped off the metal table from the woman’s sweat and perhaps even a small amount of urine: the reactions to the terror. He sighed and wrote on the chart, detailing exactly how the patient’s body handled the treatment. He pointed to the table, not even sparing a glance at Claire. One. Two. Three. She thought as she forced each step. Her back and limbs arched away from the shocking cold of the metal and her muscles tensed reflexively.

The nurse placed a flat wooden stick in her mouth and instructed her to bite down. Her arms and legs were strapped down before she could change her mind and start thrashing against her jailer. Two firm ovals suctioned to her temples and a strap ran around her head securing the device to her head.

Perhaps it was her indifference that led them to choose this method of torture. She would be sure to smile and have all the warmth of a womanly countenance when she next met with Doctor Brown. Her fate depended on her first husband, and the doctor that held her hostage within the suffocating walls of the institution. She had made her feelings quite clear to Frank, and perhaps he was enacting his vengeance this way.

As the first wave of electricity passed through her body straight to her heart and mind, her body convulsed under its strain. After the base time of thirty seconds for her treatment, her body slumped back down onto the cold surface that sent chills down her spine. She was left disoriented and stupid, waiting to gain back her senses.

“Who’s this, Smiley?” Claire’s mind could barely discern the shape of the figure hanging on the doorframe before her. The glum nurse who was addressed was the farthest thing from smiley.

“Mrs. Randall, your newest neighbour.”

“Oh, how exciting!” The girl who couldn’t be more than fourteen slipped something into the nurse’s pocket. “I think I’ll call you Miss Curly Wig.” She grinned and eyed the mess of curls fanned out around on the silver surface enviously.

The orderly nonchalantly slipped a lollipop into the girl’s waiting hands and a piece of gum, payment for whatever she had smuggled in for him.

“You’ll be just fine Miss Curly Wig.” The girl who was barely a teenager patted her shoulder in comfort. Claire couldn’t do more than stare blankly at the girl, no words appearing on her tongue. “Sure the first one is a bit of a shock. But you get over it. Your brain is like cotton the first few days, and you look as dumb as ever, but if you comply, they shorten it to every three weeks instead. I haven’t gotten the shock in four weeks now because I’ve been on my best behaviour. Haven’t had the urge to steal in months. Isn’t that right Smiley?”

Smiley grunted affirmatively in a way that reminded her of Murtagh while he put away the equipment from the day’s treatments. Her heart ached along with her head and tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

“Can I escort her back to her room Smiley? You are done here for the day, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Emily.” The nurse clearly was uncomfortable straying from protocol.

Claire walked back in silence to the plain white room, filled with only a white metal bed and mattress. Emily patted her hand on the sheets and Claire plopped down on them. The rambunctious child flitted out of the room, excited to find a new face in the dreary and tedious schedule of the ward.

Claire laid back against the stiff pillow of her twin bed. It was impossible to get comfortable here. Her brain was buzzing and her fingers felt tingly, like the static from the radio. In the night, when the other patient's cries filled her mind, she traced the fading scar on her palm where he cut her. The rings, sgian dubh, pearls and her old clothes were the only physical proof it had been real. Now she had none of them. No tangible proof in her grasp. The only reminder was the memory of the slight pain when he marked out the flesh into a J.

“Milady!” Fergus screamed into the empty air of the great room. His body curled up into one of the velvet chaises by the fire and his whimpers woke Jamie, who rested his eyes on the floor beside the inconsolable child. Jamie had almost drifted off to sleep himself, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of his wife. He rose and gathered Fergus in his arms, hushing the boy.

“Milady.” The tears renewed themselves and tumbled without end down his cheeks. Jamie stroked the hair from his son’s face and cursed when his hand felt the hot and sweaty skin.

Claire woke up shaking on the sweat-soaked sheets. “Fergus.” Her guilt of leaving him, her family was insurmountable. But she felt deep in her bones something terribly awful. A dread that squeezed at her heart. Just like any other person could feel the earth shift under their feet, before possessing the actual knowledge of what happened to their loved one. A fellow war nurse once told her of her premonitions, and the next day she was sent an impersonal letter declaring his death in battle.

She pressed the pillow against her ears, trying to block out the vivid visions of the young French boy.

Emily became an ally to Claire in the short amount of time she had been in the B ward. She followed her constantly like a lost puppy and accompanied her to the electroshock therapies every week. Claire supposed the girl had deemed her the sanest out of their fellow patients, so she must have felt more at ease in her presence. The girl had even taught Claire a neat trick, how to pretend to swallow her medicine and then spit it out later.

At night, the faces in the flecks of the popcorn ceiling above taunted her. Every move of the shadows was a demon reimagined in her mind. Of her family and those who wished her harm. They all played an equal role in the play stretched out before her. Two straight lines and a curve mixed together into one evil, Black Jack Randall and her husband. Her mind drifted to the sight of her son, curled up and shivering in his sickbed. She was stuck between the tormenting images in the ceiling or the all too real feel of Fergus’ small body pressed against her in a tight hug.

“Miss Curly Wig!” It took her a moment to recognise her young companion, the thoughts seeped slowly through her mind like molasses.

“Where on earth did you get these?”

“I filched them from Doc B when I was snooping through your files. I was going to trade them to Smiley, but I thought better. Hide them in your bra, they never look there.” The child winked at her.

“Thanks for the advice.” She slipped the silver down her shirt and was about to scatter the gold across the wooden boards of the floor when she thought better; it was a valuable chunk of money. “What do you want in return?”

“Nothing yet. But those locks of yours sure are pretty.”

“You want a lock of my hair?”

She stared at the child dumbfounded. Hers easily rivalled Claire’s, the fiery red waving around her ears and growing slowly towards her shoulders. What harm was there in giving a child a piece of a muddied brown curl? She gripped a strand of her hair from the base of her head and held it taut. Claire ripped the piece just below the hold her hand had on it so it wouldn’t be plucked directly from her scalp. Her palms opened, gifting the rare thing to the adolescent. Her face visibly brightened and she snatched it immediately. She tucked in safely within her shirt like Claire had done with her rings and skipped down the hall towards the dark wood staircase.

Claire plastered a sickly sweet smile as she sat on the plastic chair. Dr. Brown shuffled some papers on his desk and ignored her. He licked his finger to card through the pages and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He cleared his throat before finally acknowledging her.

“Ah, Mrs. Randall. And what, might I ask, lead me to the pleasure of seeing you in my office today?”

“As you can see, Dr. Brown, the treatments have worked splendidly and I would very much like to return home now. I see no need to be kept here further.”

“I’m sorry ma’am it’s just not how- oh looky here! Your husband signed for your release when he visited me yesterday.”

“Great, so now this has all been sorted.”

“Just hold on Mrs. Randall.” He emphasised her proper name. “Yes, he’s clearly signed your release here, but we’ll need to keep you here for an observation period of at least three more days. Make sure you’ll do no more harm to yourself or others. But, you’ll be glad to know we have seen an improvement from your treatments, and your last one will be this Friday, a day before your release.”

She bit her tongue to hold back the avalanche of defiant words and insults she wanted to fling at the man who held her fate in his hands. Finally, she settled for a simple, “thank you,” and left back to the empty halls.

The bastards in the hospital had made zero progress in truly helping her. If she was asked, Claire knew she wouldn’t be able to recall any detail at all about the last few months of her life. If she could call it that, she was dead living. The therapies only added to her already failing memory. Emily was the only bright part of her day, and now she was leaving the poor girl in the hands of these people alone.

Her final night, when her brain sludged forward through its thoughts, a consequence of her treatments, she finally allowed herself to relax back into her bed fully. But that was a mistake. Fergus sat before the fire at Lallybroch, playing soldier with some chess pieces. The sight of the son of her heart pierced through her chest. He turned around and smiled at her softly.

“Come back, Milady, please. Milord needs you. I miss you maman.” He had never called her maman before, only Milady.

On closer inspection, his eyes were wide with fear at the apparition before him. He knew Milady would never harm him, but there was something otherworldly about her appearance now, much different than her usual strange demeanour. Sensing his trepidation, she kissed his forehead gently, taking the pain and fear into herself from that small point where her lips met his curl that dangled there. A tear dripped down the edge of her nose to his cheek. A flash of red and blue entered the dream, but by then she was already awake.

#outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #jamie x claire #frank randall #insane asylum #fergus fraser #canon divergence #jamie fraser #medical trauma #I am inflicting pain onto my characters because I can #outlander fanfic

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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heLLO i’m so sorry this took so long!! tumblr did not, in fact, eat your ask this time, i just took five years with the response T-T i did very much want to write something about Jay and Cliff (because that’s a criminally underused relationship), but unfortunately season 12 has come out since i wrote All I’m Asking For and kind of...made things...a lot angstier :’( so this leans much more on the angst side than the fluff, but!! there is some in there, i promise

It happens mid-battle, which is never a good time for anything to happen, really, other than a spontaneous victory. If it had happened at any other time, Jay would’ve gone with him. Any other time, he tells himself, he would’ve found the time to talk.

But it’s mid-battle right after Sensei Wu’s gone missing in time, and ironically enough, time is the last thing Jay has on his hands.

It’s not even the worst of battles — just some jerks who actually happen to have too much time and advanced high-grade weaponry on their hands — but it’s enough to send the city’s civilians screaming for cover as another chunk of building comes raining down toward them. Normally Cole would take this kind of thing, since Jay’s more about the agile, dynamic stuff (not because his arms are a whole lot like half-cooked spaghetti noodles next to Cole’s, not at all). But Cole’s on the other side of the city running collateral damage watch with Zane, so Jay’s the only one around to snatch the poor man out of harm’s way before a chunk of concrete squashes him.

“Whoo, that was close,” he breathes out, as dust mushrooms out from the impact nearby. Jay carefully sets the man down, coughing briefly and tugging his mask into place. “You alright?”

The man doesn’t reply, staring at Jay with wide, eerily familiar eyes. “You,” he breathes, as if Jay is some miraculous apparition — which, sure, Jay just saved his life, but like, he’s Jay. He’s a whole two or three inches shorter than this guy, he’s not super impressive.

“You’re the lightning ninja,” the man continues. “You’re — Jay?”

Caught between being pleased he’s recognized and being slightly creeped out, Jay opens his mouth to reply. Then he looks at the guy, actually looks at the guy, and immediately shuts it. And a good thing, too, because Jay’s mouth suddenly goes so dry it kinda feels like a dust vacuum.

“Y-you’re Cliff Gordon,” he manages, on a wheezing kind of whisper. “H-hi. Hi, hello, it’s—”

An honor? Jay’s half-hysterical mind throws at him. What is he supposed to say? Hello, long-lost father who gave me up as a baby, I figured that out, by the way? Does Cliff even know Jay’s his son? Does he even know his name’s Jay? Oh, why oh why has Jay put off acknowledging anything that happened with Nadakhan for this long, just because the entire thing’s a minefield worth of trauma and it makes him wildly nauseous to think about it at all, it doesn’t mean—

“Jay,” Cliff Gordon repeats, his eyes wide and shiny, and Jay’s stomach drops like he’s on a roller coaster. Because the way he says his name — it’s like he knows, it’s like he cares—

“You, uh,” Jay swallows, utterly oblivious to the exploding building two blocks back. “I think…you knew my mom?”

Alright, points for Jay for the lamest segue into this possible, but the beaming, almost-painful smile that splits Cliff’s face at least drowns part of the shame out.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, looking part-overjoyed, part-terrified. “If you know that, then — you must know I’m your — I never meant to lose—”

Cliff cuts off painfully, dragging a hand through his graying hair. Jay vaguely notes the puffs of dust that go drifting off from it, before the awkward silence gets too heavy and his mouth kicks back into action.

“Yeah, kinda…figured that out,” Jay laughs, nervously. “I don’t, um, I’m not mad…? If that’s what you’re worried about, but it’d be uh, nice to…”

“Of course,” Cliff nods fervently, as if he’s somehow psychic and can mind-read the ten thousand words’ worth of questions barraging across Jay’s brain. “Of course, we should talk, there’s so much I need to explain, I—”

Jay’s radio interrupts him in a bursting screech of static, leaving them both wincing.

“Jay, any day you wanna get back in the game, we could use a little help here!”

Kai’s voice is strained, and Jay glances from the battle to his — Cliff — with wild eyes. Cliff shakes his head, waving toward his teammates.

“Go on, go on,” he says, something like pride in his voice. “You’ve got a much more important job to do.” He pauses, his eyes bright and painfully hopeful. “But you’ll — you’ll come and visit me sometime, will you?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods, feeling oddly shaky. “Of course, I’d — I’d really like that.”

Cliff Gordon’s face splits into full smile, and Jay takes that as his cue to leave before he does something hideously embarrassing, like run his mouth or try to — to hug the guy. His eyes catch the bright flash of the Destiny’s Shadow, and he jumps up as Lloyd tilts the plane, Zane reaching a hand out to snag Jay and haul him in.

“Nice timing,” Jay gasps in thanks as he finds his seat, fumbling once with the tight squeeze. “Sorry about the wait.”

Zane simply squeezes his shoulder briefly. “I am merely glad to see you in one piece,” he says, wincing briefly as another explosion goes off. Jay cringes as his eyes rake over the smoking flames. Man, they’re gonna be stuck doing repairs here forever—

“Who was that?”

Jay startles back to himself at Lloyd’s voice, blinking rapidly. He opens his mouth, prepared to unleash a floodgate’s worth of “you’ll never believe this”—

Then stops dead as Zane and Lloyd stare curiously at him, awaiting answer. Jay shuts his mouth, and swallows.

How is he supposed to announce he’s met his father — his second, whole father, in addition to the super great one he already has — to them? To Zane, who barely got any time with his only parent before he died? To Lloyd, who's still actively grieving having lost his only dad for like, the third time? How’s that gonna go over, huh, motormouth?

So Jay shakes his head, forcing an easy laugh instead. “Just some random fan.”

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

He means to follow up right after. He does, really, but everything goes to hell in a handbasket so quickly Jay barely even has time to breath. First it’s the months of searching for Sensei, then it’s guarding the royal family, then they’re on the run, then they’re watching Garmadon brutalize their baby brother on live television and he’s dying on a table and the city’s being destroyed by a giant and the Bounty’s being crushed with them on it and they’re running for their lives in the First Realm and Sensei Wu’s a teenager and—

They’re kind of busy, that’s the point he’s trying to make.

Eventually, there’s a brief spot of time he could go, maybe. It’s right after they’ve returned from the First Realm, though, and that’s...not a great time.

The city’s still stumbling back to its feet, for one, and the loss of the emperor and empress doesn’t exactly help. Their little family’s left stumbling back to its feet even slower, as beaten down and utterly exhausted as they are. The four of them had their own run of it in the First Realm, but Lloyd and Nya didn’t have it any better back in Ninjago, and the whole thing’s just — just a big mess. And sure, maybe reuniting with his long-lost biological father now could like, actually benefit Jay’s half-shredded mental state, since the guy seemed pretty happy to see him, but…

But fathers.

Lloyd still wanders their apartment like a ghost at night, his eyes dull and haunted from whatever night terror he’s been graced with now. He wanders a little bit like that in the day, too, eyes glazing over and hands trembling at times. Jay knows why, of course — they all know, it’s not a secret. Not with the high-definition TV footage that keeps circulating. And they — they try to help, of course, they do their very best, but there are some things only time can fix.

Jay watches Lloyd’s eyes shutter at the mention of his father, and wonders if his entire life is enough to fix whatever’s been broken with his own.

In other words, Jay decides to be a coward.

Ironically enough, however, it ends up being Lloyd that encourages him to go. Not that he realizes that.

“Don’t bother making extra for dinner tonight, Zane,” Lloyd announces wearily, as he trudges through the kitchen. “My mom’s on the road again.”

Zane blinks at that, then frowns. “Where is she off to now?”

“Don’t know,” Lloyd says shortly, before promptly stalking off toward the rooftop exit. Jay and Zane stand there in silence for a moment, Zane still methodically stirring the rice. Then he turns to Jay, and fixes him with a look.

“Grumpy-about-parents Lloyd is normally Nya’s job, you know,” Jay huffs, but he relents, following Lloyd’s quiet footsteps to the roof. Lloyd’s curled up in his usual spot, close enough to the edge that it frightened the life out of Kai the first time they found him. Jay doesn’t exactly get why, because Lloyd’s sad, yeah, but he’s not—

Well, maybe Kai’s just scared Lloyd’ll trip and fall off the roof. That’s what Jay’s choosing to believe, for his own sake.

Either way, Lloyd looks pretty sad now, so Jay plops himself right down next to him with a huff, neatly startling Lloyd so badly he almost does trip right off the roof.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me,” Jay says quickly, throwing his hands up. Lloyd glares at him, and Jay makes a face. “Don’t give me that, you’re the one that’s supposed to have ninja reflexes.”

“Hmph,” Lloyd grumbles, wrapping his arms back around his knees, but he looks slightly less likely to zap Jay’s nervous system full of energy, so he takes that as a go-ahead.

“So, your mom, huh,” Jay starts, with all the intent of comforting Lloyd and comforting Lloyd alone. “Hey, random question, but how did, um, why’d you decide to let her back into your life, in the first place?”

“What?” Lloyd stares at him. Jay cringes. Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Classic Walker, he’s brought his own issues right into the middle of it, like an absolute selfish—

Great, now he wants to throw himself off the roof.

“Sorry, sorry, forget I said that,” Jay babbles, desperately trying to re-route the conversation. “Just — forget I opened my mouth, okay? Please?”

Lloyd shakes his head, looking more concerned than sad now. He’s even unfolded from his tight little Lloyd-angst-ball, which Jay would count as a victory if it weren’t for all the wrong reasons. “Jay, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Jay blusters. Lloyd stares at him. Jay gives him a bright smile back. Lloyd continues to stare.

“Okay, fine, not really, but — that’s not why I came up here,” Jay admits, cheeks flushing.

Lloyd’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is everything…okay with your parents?” His voice is tentative, as if he’s almost scared of Jay’s response, and Jay can’t have that.

“My parents are fine,” he replies, firmly. “But, uh, thanks for asking. I’m just…” Jay trails off, abruptly realizing that explaining this is going to require mentioning Cliff Gordon, which is going to require mentioning that he’s adopted, which is going to require explaining why he hasn’t told the rest of his team this. None of which are options Jay wants to explore at the moment, so he desperately tries to backtrack.

Lloyd, faithfully caring brother that he is to the bitter end, beats him to it. “Well, even if they are fine, um. To answer your question, I guess I…I needed to know.” He blows his breath out, glancing out over the skyline, half-broken buildings forming dark silhouettes against the setting sun. “I needed to know why she - she left me. If it was me, or if it was her, or…whatever, you know?” Lloyd bites his lip, and Jay suddenly feels like a horrible person for putting him through the mother thing right after the father thing’s been blown to smithereens.

And yet.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jay says quietly, letting it sink in. And he does, really. More than he thought he would, and this is probably a big glaring sign from the heavens, huh.

“But I don’t know,” Lloyd continues, sounding small as his hands tug on a frayed thread from a torn spot in his gi. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to cut people out entirely, too.”

He looks terribly worn when he says that, too young and too old for his age all at once, and Jay decides he hates the expression on his youngest brother.

“I’ll remember that, next time you steal the last of my coffee stash,” he says.

Lloyd gives a startled huff of laughter, before jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “That’s not what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile edging his mouth now — not quite the Lloyd smile he’s used to, but it’s not as frail as it’s been, either. Lloyd doesn’t look so much like porcelain that’s been stepped on anymore, and the proud spark of joy Jay feels from that is enough to convince him that it’s a good idea.

He did promise Cliff Gordon he would, after all, and besides — knowing can’t be that bad, and Jay’s a firm believer in the wisdom of knowledge, and all that.

He’s also a firm believer of closure, but he’s stopped claiming to be one, since it probably comes off pretty hypocritical lately.

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

Jay doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t even tell them he’s going at all, he just…waits for a convenient opportunity to slip out when no one will notice.

He wishes he had. He wishes he’d told Cole, told Nya or - or anyone he was going, and at the same time he’s glad he told no one at all. He’s not quite sure he could bear anyone else seeing whatever look’s on his face right now, on top of everything else.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” the woman at the estate tells him, her eyes teary. “Cliff Gordon passed away a month ago.”

That…doesn't make sense, at first. It takes a minute, to sink through the odd roaring noise in Jay’s ears, and finally reach his brain.

“Passed…away,” he repeats, blankly.

The lady nods, looking at him with so much pity Jay kind of wants to kick her shins. “It was his heart, poor man. He hasn’t been so well the last few years, you know.”

“Right.” Jay feels a little like he does when he’d used to jump off his dragon, except this time he’s been tossed from it and he’s free-falling to a short and sudden stop.

“Did you know him?” she asks, curiously.

Jay tries to make some form of response, like “I was his son”, except all that comes out is a whole bunch of nothing. Nothing, just like what’s left in Jay’s head. He blinks rapidly, trying to banish the image seared into his brain.

Cliff Gordon’s eyes, bright and painfully hopeful.

You’ll come visit me sometime, will you?

Jay swallows thickly. “Sorry, if you’ll, uh — excuse me, I think lunch was bad.” Then he ducks for the nearby bushes, and proceeds to be horribly sick.

He tells himself, through heaving gasps, that the hot tears are only reflexive.

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

And that’s that. Jay, stupid, selfish Jay, waited too long and now he’s lost his chance forever. Because he was — what, scared? Nervous?

He’s not scared now. He kind of just hates himself, which isn’t the newest thing in the world, but this time it burns like the worst of scrapes and crawls up on him in the middle of the night, screaming what-if’s into his brain until Jay’s biting down on his pillow before he starts screaming himself.

It hurts, but he’s got no one to blame but himself. Jay messed this up all his own and he sure as heck doesn’t deserve any sympathy from his team for it. So he’s not going to even give them the chance, because they’ll never know. Jay will take this secret to the grave, because imagining the looks on everyone else’s face when he tells them he ruined this makes him want to put himself in the grave.

How long did he wait for Jay, how long did he—

Jay’s just going to drive himself insane with his own stupid brain and that’s that.

Well, that’s supposed to be that. It would’ve been that, except Cole is perceptive and Cole knows him too well, and Cole spots the look on his face when he’s telling him everything he’s found out about his mother, since Jay can’t even hide that from him.

And maybe Jay’s just weak, or so desperate for some form of reassurance or - or attention that he cracks, and spills the whole sorry thing to Cole. To his undying credit, Cole doesn’t even look like he despises Jay once. Instead, he looks at him with all this sympathy and kindness and oh, if Jay was a crier—

Well, actually, Jay is a crier, and ends up bawling into Cole’s gi at two in the morning, but what else is new.

The important thing is that Cole is Jay’s very best friend and possibly favorite person in the whole entire world, and Jay is going to murder him in cold blood for dragging him to Cliff Gordon’s estate and forcing their way in.

“If he cared enough to want to meet you, he’ll have cared enough to leave you in his will,” Cole reminds him, staunchly. “He knows how busy your life was, so I’ll bet you anything he understood.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Jay hisses, as Cole manhandles him down the mansion’s — the mansion’s! — hallways. “I don’t deserve it.”

“For the love of—” Cole cuts off with an exasperated huff. “It is not your fault this happened. This is not on you. How many times are we going to have to do this, Jay.”

“Until the time you let me wallow in miserable peace,” Jay mutters. What does Cole know, it’s not like he totally bailed on his parent and then let them die. Not that Jay could do anything about that last part, sure, but the rest of it.

Cole stops them in one of the massive living rooms, finally fixing Jay with one of those stares. Uh oh.

“At least read the letter,” Cole says, suddenly pleading. “You don’t have to look at anything else if you don’t want to, but please read the letter. For me?”

Oh, Jay hates him. He tells him so, even as his glare falters in the face of Cole’s stupid puppy eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Cole replies hopefully, offering the letter they were handed with the estate key. Jay gives him a last, withering glare before snatching the letter from him.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, as he tears open the envelope with shaky fingers. He hesitates for a beat, before mustering whatever pathetic courage he has and tugging the paper out, unfolding it as his eyes find the carefully scrawled words.

My dear Jay—

He promptly bursts into tears.

“Jay wha — Jay what’s wrong, is it that bad?” Cole is frantic as he hovers over him, his hands half-caught between reaching for Jay and reaching for the letter in his hands. Jay shakes his head, trying to stifle the sudden waterfall’s worth of tears that decided to make an appearance, and clutches the paper tighter.

Cole makes an anxious sound. “Jay, you know he’s — if he’s said something bad, it’s — he doesn’t know anything, right?”

Oh no, now Jay wants to cry harder. Cole sounds desperately concerned, kind and caring and genuine like Cole always is, and Jay feels like the worst person in the world.

Stupid, Jay, he scolds himself hotly, swiping angrily at his eyes. Stupid, selfish Jay. He’s got nothing to be crying about. Zane only had one dad, and he doesn’t go around whining about it. Lloyd’s got one dad who’s died three times, and may as well be dead now ‘cause he’s such a jerk. Kai and Nya didn’t even have any parents until last year. And Cole lost his mom who he loved, he loved so much, and he’s still here supporting Jay — stupid, selfish Jay, who’s got two entire stable parents who he’s never once doubted love him, and yet here he is, crying over the one he never really knew.

“Jay,” Cole tries again, quieter this time. “Jay, you’re allowed to be sad about your dad. It’s not a contest.”

Stupid, perceptive Cole.

“He said he loves me,” Jay finally croaks, swiping at the tears all over his face. “He didn’t even know me, Cole, how was he supposed to know that?”

Cole’s eyes soften, all melty and gross. “You’re his son, Jay, he knew you.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “Besides, he talked to you once, right? You make some pretty impactful first impressions, motormouth.”

Jay can’t decide whether to be insulted or more flattered than he’s been in the last six months. He decides to punch Cole weakly in the shoulder, before crying harder. Cole doesn’t even flinch at the hit, built like a rock as he is, and simply snatches Jay’s arm and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. And oh, Jay wants to pull away, he doesn’t want to break down in his dead father’s mansion like this, Jay doesn’t have a lot of dignity but he’s at least got his shreds, but—

Cole gives the best stupid hugs in the world, and what’s Jay gonna do, deny such instant love and comfort? The risk of hurting Cole’s feelings far outweighs Jay’s tattered dignity, he tells himself. That’s why he clings to Cole like an overgrown barnacle and wails into his shoulder like a broken faucet. That’s the only reason, obviously.

“It’s okay to cry, you big moron,” Cole says after he’s calmed down, briefly squeezing tighter. “I get it. But you really should read more than the first lines of that thing. I think…I think it’ll help.”

“This is all I’ve got, though,” Jay sniffles. “I don’t — I lost any other connection I’ve got to him.”

“Sometimes you just gotta work with what you have,” Cole says gently, a little bitter, a little sweet. “And somehow, you have to make it enough.”

Jay pauses at that, thinking back to the statue miles and miles beneath a mountain, the delicate locket Cole had turned over in his fingers. He looks back to the letter in his hands, the lines and lines of all the words his father left for him, and remembers Lloyd’s words about knowing.

His fingers tighten on the edges of his letter. Jay, he decides, is done being scared. He’s got Cole at his side — what’s he got to be afraid of, anyways?

“Okay,” he says, swiping once more at his eyes, and giving Cole a watery smile. “Okay. Help me read through the whole thing?”

“I wore my old sweatshirt for a reason,” Cole replies, making a show of wringing his sleeve out. Jay whacks him with the envelope, but the laugh he shudders out feels real, this time. He gently spreads the letter out atop his lap, focusing on the words again.

It’ll be enough. It’ll sting, but…it’ll be enough.

Like Lloyd’s tattered photograph, like Cole’s mother’s last words — it has to be.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #jay walker #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #since they're both...fairly present at points gdnkfgj #i just have many feelings about jay apparently T-T #my fic #answered

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tew1122 · 4 years

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Cigars and Singlets

Huge thanks to @vcmdr who provided the pictures for this story. I wrote it with his help and domination.It was very fun (and arousing process). Can’t wait to see him evolve further into a cigar pig. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josh was screwed. His grades slipped for one class and he lost his academic scholarship.

His only hope was a sports scholarship, but he wasn’t very athletic. He knew some of the coaches would take a few newbies to add to team numbers or to serve as assistant coaches.

Josh ran from office to office and asked various coaches if they would be willing to help him. They all declined. The football coach even laughed at him.

His one last chance was the wrestling coach, who is apparently very peculiar about his assistant coaches and hasn’t chosen one yet.

Josh caught the grizzled man as Coach was getting into his car to leave for the day. Coach was in his 50s, with the bulk of his years in the gym. Coach was known for his different sense of style. He rejected the chinos and polos of his colleagues. Instead, he wore large boots and a closed leather jacket when he wasn’t in a singlet of his own for practices. He had a beard a little more grown out then Josh’s, and short salt and pepper hair. Josh’s gay roommate had described coach more than once as “Daddy “ and, now that he had a good look, Josh agreed he was a handsome man.

Josh explained his plight to coach and begged him to take him on. Offering to workout constantly to become a proper wrestler. To study the holds day and night. To follow a strict diet regimen. Whatever it took.

Coach looked at Josh and seemed to contemplate his request. After a few minutes, when Josh thought he was gonna answer, Coach instead took out a cigar and lighter from his leather jacket and lit it up. Josh watched the red ember glow and dim repeatedly as Coach took slow, careful draws. He found himself unable to look away from the bright puffing as twilight set in through Coach’s office window. Josh thought he should say something, but knew better than to speak out of turn. Coach was his last chance, and besides, as the ember of Coach’s cigar bobbed up and down, Josh found himself less and less nervous. If Coach was relaxed enough to smoke, why shouldn’t he relax too?

Suddenly, Coach broke the silence: “Strip”.

Josh took a second to snap out of staring at the cigar and looked at Coach, confused.

“I want to see your muscles boy, take off your shirt.”4

Josh had a fleeting thought that this, too, was odd, but it made sense. Coach had to see his body. He needed to know what he was signing on for. Josh needed the position more than Coach needed Josh, after all.

“Oh...okay.”

“That’s okay, Sir” Coach reprimanded.

“Right, sorry Sir “

Josh took off his shirt and blushed. His frame was not impressive at all, especially against this much older man. He was thin and wiry. He knew this was a long shot--there was a reason he saved the wrestling coach for last. Still, there were weight classes in wrestling, right? Maybe he could sneak by in the ultra-light-feather class, or whatever it was called.

“Not a lot to work with.” Coach said as he stood up from his desk and circled Josh like a vulture, eyeing him up and down as he puffed on the cigar. The smoke had started to fill the room at this point.

The cigar smoke invaded Josh’s nostrils. The bitter scent made him hazy, and his eyes started watering a bit. Coach was mumbling something as he circled him, but Josh couldn’t make out the words. All Josh could think about was that this large, confident man was in control of his future. Coach’s eyes were boring into him. He felt like his soul was being exposed.

Coach finally stopped in front of Josh.

“You’d need a lot of work. You’re more boy than man. Are you willing to be useful to me to prove your sincerity?”

Maybe it was the desperation turning into a flicker of hope, or maybe it was his exhaustion combined with the cigar smoke, but he wanted to please Coach. Not just for his credit and degree, but because Coach was this paragon of masculinity. He was so self-assured. So powerful. Touch, and strong. Josh hoped he could learn from him and stop being boyish.

“Yes Sir, I will be useful”

“Good boy” coach blew more smoke into Josh’s face. He didn’t find the smell as strong or unpleasant as last time--his future was in Coach’s hands, now. He felt calm for the first time all day. Relaxed. Coach had saved him from his worries.

“Prove your dedication by licking my boots, boy.”

Josh froze. Lick his boots? That’s not normal wrestling stuff. Was this a joke? A test? Initiation?

Coach took another drag and blew more smoke straight into Josh’s face, scattering his thoughts. “Lick Coach’s boots, boy”

With his resistance scattered by the smoke and his free will hazy by the smell. Josh’s thought process was simple.

He must please coach.

Coach ordered him to lick his boots.

Josh will lick Coach’s boots.

Josh got down on his knees, still shirtless, and began using his tongue to clean Coach’s large leather boots. The mud on his tongue felt weird but it felt good to obey Coach. He knows he wants to please coach, so this must feel good.

After finishing his first cigar of the evening, Coach had Josh get up. His boots were clean for the last 15 minutes but he wasn’t going to let that fact interrupt his cigar.

“Good boy. You proved you’re obedient, now you need to prove you’re useful. I am going to do some work in my garage tonight, and you’re going to help. Think of it as your first workout. You’re going to drive so I can enjoy another cigar in the car.”

“Yes Sir!” Josh was elated. He has proven his first task successfully, and now Coach wants to invite him over. Professors and staff only invited students they’re close with to their homes, so this is great. Maybe he can get a look inside Coach’s house and see how a real man lives, so he could imitate it at home.

The car was an old but cared for vehicle. Josh was ordered to put his shirt back on for the drive. Coach said he didn’t feel like driving and made Josh drive, joking that he’s gonna be his personal chauffeur.

Meanwhile Coach took his own shirt and jacket off and lit another cigar, as he press play on the CD player, which started emitting some strange electronic music. The beat made it easy to drift off and focus on the road. After a few minutes, something else entered Josh’s senses. It was a mixture of cigar smoke trapped in the car and coach’s musk.

“Sir can I open a window? It’s getting kinda stuffy in here.”

“You may not boy. Is my cigar smoke bothering you?”

“Just a little Sir.”

“Pull over”

Josh’s heart sank as he moved to the side of the empty road. He hoped that his comment didn’t cost him this opportunity. He was worried about his scholarship, his future, and most importantly disappointing this stud of a man.

“Alright boy, so you want to join the wrestling team.”

“Yes Sir, I want to join your team.”

“And the wrestling team needs strong, testosterone filled men, not boys “

“Yes Sir. Wrestlers must be strong men.”

“So I’m going to have to make you a man, correct boy?”

“Yes Sir, please Sir. I don’t think I can do it without your guidance.”

Josh was surprised at the strength of his conviction. But he knew he was right. Without an alpha man like coach to take him under his wing he’d always be weak. He HAD to please Coach, so that he could remake him in his image.

“And who smokes cigars, boys or men?”

Josh knew that no one would call coach a boy, and he was smoking now. He was a boy, and he wasn’t smoking.

“Men smoke cigars, Sir “

“So you’re going to need to get used to cigars and musk in order to be a man. Is that right?”

“Yes sir, I will need to get used to cigars and musk”

“Good boy. Now take a big inhale and repeat after me: I like cigar smoke and musk.”

Coach said, blowing his smoke into Josh’s face once again.

Josh inhaled the bitter cloud and tried not to cough. He felt himself changing , starting to enjoy the smell and haziness. He started to pick up on the subtle notes of cedar and cinnamon. It was hot and bitter, yet smooth. Coach’s own smell intermingled to give it a sort of tangy flavor in his mouth. ”I like cigar smoke and musk,Sir”

Coach blew another cloud onto Josh.

“You like Coach's cigar smoke and musk.”

After Coach said this he turned up the volume on the radio.

The music combined with the haze was making it hard to concentrate. Josh tried to consider if he did enjoy coaches musk- does he need this po- is coach coming onto-. Fuck, the heavy beats pounding at his brain wouldn’t let him finish a thought. Fuck it, he decided. Just fuck thinking for tonight and obey Coach.

“I like your cigar smoke and musk, Sir.”

“Good boy. You also like pleasing me and being called a good boy.”

“ I like pleasing you and being a good boy Sir.”

Josh repeated those three facts and inhaled smoke clouds until they were seared into his brain. A mental rebranding by three important metaphorical cigar nubs. After half an hour of this brainwashing, Coach took another large drag of his cigar, but instead of exhaling it he grabbed Josh and kissed him on the lips, pushing the smoke inside of him.

Josh was very confused for a second, but he was getting a strong taste of coaches musk and cigar smoke, which is good; and he was obeying the coach, which is good. So clearly kissing Coach is good. It definitely made Josh feel good.

It felt even better when the coach edged his cock and ordered Josh to lick his pits. Josh was enjoying the sweaty smell of coaches musk wrapped up into the cigar smoke, but now he is getting a full blast of manhood. He enjoys Coach’s musk, which is good; and he is pleasing Coach, which is good. So licking Coach’s body must be good.

After a thorough pit cleaning and smoke session, Coach ordered Josh to continue driving.

Josh felt good obeying the coach. His brain was so full of smoke he didn’t really hear Coach’s quiet whispers too well. Something about “obedient jock” and “smoke pig.” He didn’t know what that meant, but it was okay. Coach knew, and that was all that mattered.

After a little while longer they arrived at Coach’s house in the suburbs. A bit on the smaller end but it looked like a perfectly vanilla white suburban home.

Josh parked the car outside and Coach opened the garage, guiding Josh inside. Coach lit another cigar in the messy garage. It was filled with assorted boxes, garbage and junk.

Coach explained “junk from the last owner of the house, a hoarder. I’m planning on turning the garage into a cigar lounge and home gym.”

Coach blew a cloud of smoke into Josh’s face. This one was much stronger and bitter. Josh’s sinuses burned as he inhaled the smoke like he was taught. He knew even though it hurt to inhale, it was necessary to be a man. “Start throwing out everything here. It’s 10pm, you have till sunrise.”

Josh got to work, lifting and moving the trash out. Lifting and moving the trash out. And repeating. Over and over. His muscles started to strain and his shirt got coated with sweat. It hurt, but he started to develop his own musk, which felt good. Not as good as Coach’s musk but it was a start.

Whenever Josh would slow down, or ask for water or to use the bathroom Coach would stand up, take a large puff of the cigar, and kiss Josh, showing the smoke down his lungs. The smoke would make him forget his exhaustion.

At 4 am, Josh was coated in sweat, sleep deprived, and dehydrated, but the garage was finally empty. Josh felt very light headed from the ordeal, as well as all the smoke from the coach's cigar, by now heavy and starting to settle in the garage.

All Josh could think about is that he obeyed Coach, and how good that made him feel. He felt rock hard, pleasing Coach, smelling his musk and cigar smoke.

Coach finished his cigar at around the same time. This time he pulled up two of them.

“You’ve done a good job boy. You’re part of the team. Here’s the cigar to seal the deal “

“Thank You Sir! “ Josh said, as he clamped the cigar in his jaw. It tasted strong but Josh was so happy he can be like Coach. He knelt on the floor in front of him as his cigar was lit. He puffed it to life, as for the first time he tasted the bitter spice and intricate flavor of the tobacco.

The cigar smoke filled Josh’s exhausted brain. It felt so good as it finished the corruption coach started. He wasn’t used to smoking cigars so it was a bit awkward and his smoke clouds weren’t very impressive, but Coach helped him by blowing smoke in his direction. Coach was always helping him. He owed everything to Coach.

Coach told Josh to focus on how good serving him feels, and how manly he feels smoking the cigar. The control he felt with a cigar clenched in his jar. How strong the smoke was, and how strong he felt. The force of blowing out a smoke cloud. The power of the cigar. Josh was getting harder and harder as his mind got emptier.

“Repeat after me, boy:

“You enjoy smoke and musk”

“I enjoy smoke and musk, Sir”

“You’re a cigarpig and love it”

“I’m a cigarpig and fucking love it”

“You’re my jock”

“I’m your jock, Sir”

“You will do whatever I say”

“I will do whatever you say, Sir”

“Good boy “

“As you smoke that cigar, your old personality will burn up with it. Ashes of tobacco leaf are ashes of character. You’ll be empty for me to fill up with wrestling and cigars. “

Josh smiled, knowing that Coach will recreate him. Turn him from his weak self into a real cigar smoking wrestling man. He puffed on the cigar eagerly. As the minutes passed and ashes fell to the concrete floor, Josh felt his personality slip away, like Coach said. His memories stayed, but he didn’t care about classical literature or good grades anymore. He no longer found video games interesting. His interest in women faded away too.

Finally, the cigar cap dropped to the floor as the sun rose. Josh was empty, a look of bliss in his face.

Coach smiled at his new toy.

“Time to lay some ground rules boy “

“You will always wear a singlet, either alone or under your clothes. Or you will be naked”

“Always... wear... singlet...or naked” Josh droned. He slowly stood up and stripped, then went back to kneeling before Coach.

“You will smoke a cigar every day”

“Smoke... every ... day”

“You will work out every day to improve your body”

“Work... out... every... day”

“You are only attracted to men, and find me very hot”

“Attracted... men... coach is hot”

“You will live with me so I can mold your progress”

“Live... with... coach”

“Good boy. Now as you breathe this smoke into you will embrace your new personality”. Coach took a long inhale of his cigar, and grabbed Josh’s head. He kissed him hard and pushed the smoke into Josh. Josh slowly awoke from trance as the smoke hit, and he was overcome by lust and obedience for Coach. He started making out with him, hungry for the taste of the smoke and the taste of Coach himself. Coach picked him up and carried him to the bedroom. Josh’s first morning in his new life was spent with a cigar clenched in his jaw and Coach’s cock in his ass.

6 months later:

Josh was overseeing a new wrestler working in Coach’s garage gym. The puny boy, Jake, was panting and sweating like a pig. Josh expertly blew smoke in his face and commanded “again, 10 more reps”. As soon as the pig began again, Josh thought about his own start. After converting him, Coach helped him move in. His old clothes got torn up, he needed singlets and sports wear now. Coach made sure he had a cigar in his jaw every waking minute, and it wasn’t long before Josh couldn’t stand not having one. The workouts were the toughest part. Three hours every day, he felt like he’d never been as sore in his life every night, and then again the next night.

It has all been worth it though. Coach has shaped him into a man. His muscles in the singlet proved it. The cigar in his mouth proved it. The smirk as he imagined fucking the new wrestler on the bench press proved it.

After getting used to pleasing Coach for 3 months, Josh got a taste of dominance when Coach put a wrestler under with cigar smoke during some “additional training” at Coaches house. It was so hot seeing the strong wrestler realize he belongs to Coach and crave cigars. After that weekend the wrestling team had two cigar pigs. Josh helped Coach covert the other team members, one by one, into cigarpig jocks. Now the entire team wore singlets 24/7, smoked cigars, and served coach. Coaches favorites lived with him and Josh as house boys.

As his final test, Coach is having Josh convert this newbie all by himself. It’s going great. Josh found this lanky guy asking if he can work in the Athletics office to get a gym credit. After a few blows of smoke Josh got him to admit he was envious of jocks. After a cigar Josh convinced Jake he needed to come to coach’s house for the interview. After a few puffs and a lot of suggestions, Josh got him to wear a sweaty cumstained singlet for this workout. That was 5 hours ago. This punk won’t be able to move tomorrow. His muscles are swelling and red but Josh keeps breathing smoke and he keeps going. Josh enjoys this transformation. He specifically picked a scrawny weakling like he was before Coach changed his life. Josh can’t wait to see the weakness leave him and be replaced with obedience and cigar smoke. As the newbie finished the workout, he collapsed into a pile of meat and sweat. Josh blew the last of the cigar smoke in his face and said “relax boy. Relax your body and mind. Do not move, do not think”

“Not thinking... sir”

Josh pulled two cigars, lit both, and placed one in Jake’s mouth. Jake was still catching his breath so his eager pants turned into big puffs as he inhaled the smoke. The smoke invaded his empty mind, corrupted him as Josh was once corrupted many weeks before. Josh got hard as he saw the smile of corrupted bliss on Jake’s face. Josh wanted to stick his dick into Josh’s ass, but he had to finish the conversion first, just as coach said.

“As you smoke that cigar, your old personality will burn up with it. Ashes of tobacco leaf are ashes of character. You’ll be empty for me to fill up with wrestling and cigars. “ he scratched Jake’s head as he said that, and he smiled as his worries, cares, dreams, and personality went up into cigar smoke.

Josh was excited about his first boy. He’s going to make a good cigar pig for Coach. He’s going to push Jake to his absolute limit until his muscles are like a bull and his brain fried by cigars.

Josh got down on his knees and started whispering into Josh’s ear and edged him through the singlet with his hands. How good it feels to obey Coach and Josh. How relaxed and horny cigar smoke makes him feel. How good wrestlers work out every day, how good boys wear singlets all the time. How he wants to worship Josh’s cock. This continues on and until the last ashes simmered out.

Josh looked at Jake’s face and kissed him, long and hard and sweet, as he marveled in his first pig. He slipped another cigar in their mouths and went around to the other side of the bench. He lifted Josh’s legs up and started to finger him through the ass slit in the singlet (coach’s idea for easy access.) as Josh moans through his second cigar, Jake loosened him up. Josh then thrust his hard cock into Jake, claiming Jake as his. He fucked him nice and hard in rhythm with his cigar puffs. Jake moaned, but that only made his cigar fall deeper into his mouth. Despite the exhaustion he flexed his ass like a good pig, he knew no matter how tired he was, Master Josh’s pleasure comes first.

Josh continues this steady rhythm for about half a cigar, letting his new pig associated the pleasures of cigar smoke with getting fucked by him. Finally, he thrust hard into Jake’s ass and came. Large ropes of warm sticky cigar pig cum erupted into Jake, as his fate as Josh’s cigar buff wrestling bitch was sealed. Josh felt a euphoria after covering his first pig. He’s never cum so much, and when he finally pulled out, Jake’s hole was dripping. Jake came too, right into the singlet. His cum stain right on top of Josh’s dried cum, since it used to be his singlets and coach fucked him in it often. Josh admired his handiwork , A exhausted cum pig on cloud nine smoking a cigar. A new team mate, and Josh’s first boy .

Josh started to head back into the house. Coach has to confirm his handiwork and make sure Jake’s ass was fully broken in. And if Josh did a good job, Coach will reward him with a one on one “training session”.

#original story #transformation #cigar #cigar pig #jock #singlet #wrestling

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Please do holiday prompt 85 (unexpected apology)!

85. we haven’t been friends for years but we both end up at a mutual friend’s holiday party and you apologize for how things went down between us (which I wasn’t expecting in a million years)

from winter writing prompts here

it’s that time of year again everyone.....ive been so busy with school and zine stuff that im taking a little break to write this today ☺️ set very late 2019, before the Events of 2020

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

It occurs to Hermann as he stands amongst a handful of society’s most monied and high-ranking—mulled wine in hand, stiff suit buttoned too-tight around his neck—that he is not only completely out of his element, but residing at a level of desperation that he cringes to even consider. Hermann does not schmooze; Hermann has never had the capacity to schmooze; in all of his previous attempts at schmoozing (typically at the bequest of his father, who would tote Hermann around as a conversation piece at fundraising events), Hermann would come across invariably as disingenuous, uptight, and arrogant, and certainly not someone with whom one would entrust large cheques made out to the PPDC for.

Yes; desperation. To borrow the cliché, desperate times call for desperate measures. To borrow another, war changes man. Robots wage war on monsters from another world, the UN wages war on the jaeger program’s budget, and Hermann must wage war on prospective PPDC donors if he wishes to still be employed by the New Year. He can’t decide which sounds more horrendous, really.

“Would you like more wine, Dr. Gottlieb?” a passing waiter asks Hermann, and Hermann shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he says. Hermann has always been a maudlin drunk; he doesn’t fancy risking over-drinking tonight, and making an embarrassment of himself by confessing to perfect strangers that his parents never loved him or that he fears he’ll never make a true human connection.

“Dr. Gottlieb?” someone says, incredulously.

Oh, bugger. He’s been found out. Hermann sighs, flattens down his cowlick, and plasters on a fake smile: the time has come for him to, er, lie back and think of the PPDC, so to speak. Hopefully it’ll go fast.

But when Hermann turns, it’s not to find some acquaintance of his father, or a perfect stranger familiar with his work, or even a distant colleague; it’s to find one Newton Geiszler (who Hermann may have considered a colleague, once, but certainly not anymore), dressed in a horrendous eyesore of a gold (gold) suit, nursing a large red cocktail in each hand, and staring at Hermann like he can’t decide if he wants to say something or turn and run. Hermann mirrors his stare. A pin could drop between them, and Hermann reckons, despite the undercurrent of music and chatter, they would be able to hear it.

Hermann is the one to break it. “Newton,” he says. Then he amends, quickly, “Dr. Geiszler. I wasn’t aware…” He coughs. He suddenly wishes he took another mulled wine, and wonders if it’s too late to summon back the waiter. “You are…here.”

“Uh,” Newton says. “Yeah.”

The last time Hermann saw Newton Geiszler, they were standing under an awning outside a Starbucks while a torrential downpour of rain pounded against the sidewalk and soaked their shoes. Hermann was shouting. Newton was shouting, too, and he may have also been crying. They had been asked to leave the building on account of it. That was nearly three years ago. “Er,” Hermann says. “Business? Or pleasure?”

Newton has hardly changed in the almost-three years; his hair remains thick and unruly, his jaw in bad need of a shave, his glasses smudged and slightly crooked. The suit is a bloody eyesore, though. Hermann imagines Newton thought it was festive. “Business.” Newton snorts. “God, you think I’d come here for fun? I haven’t had the money for a new sample in months, it was either this or, I don’t know, sticking mutated fish under microscopes. Kaiju blue poisoning. Been there done that, and not what I need to be doing now, you know? And you can thank your dad for that too, not having any fucking samples to work with, I mean, and his stupid wall—but I guess that’s why you’re here too. I heard they’re talking about pulling the plug on the jaeger program.”

Newton speaks quickly, and with a bewildering tendency to leap between topics like a game of hopscotch, something Hermann had quite forgotten. (They’d only met the once, after all, and Newton disguises it better in writing.) He follows it nonetheless. “Yes, well, they’re still only just rumors,” Hermann says, though he knows (with a certainty) that one more major failing of a jaeger might spell the end of it, “and I certainly hope they stay as such. I take it you’re with the PPDC now, then?”

Newton jerks a thumb towards the waistband of his gold suit, spilling a bit of his cocktail on the floor; Hermann at last notices the PPDC badge clipped to it. Newton’s grin is identical to the one in his photograph. “Hell yeah, dude,” he says. “They finally hired me about a month after we—” The corners of his mouth twitch down, ever so slightly. “—uh, got coffee.”

It had been a long-standing complaint of Newton’s, back when they wrote each other, that the PPDC was perfectly happy to use his research but turned a blind eye whenever he submitted yet another application for their k-science research team. Personality conflicts, Hermann always presumed. He and Newton certainly had plenty. Perhaps Hermann’s not the only one who’s grown desperate—a thought he scolds himself for the unkindness of a moment later. Newton is a brilliant scientist despite his difficulties and their past. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Well, congratulations. I hadn’t heard.”

“Wine?” a passing waiter asks them.

Newton shakes his head. Hermann takes one this time, gratefully.

“It’s been alright,” Newton says. He downs the entirety of the red cocktail in his right hand. “Like I said. Not many samples to work with. They had me stationed over in Vladivostok, but I got leave for the holidays. And for this I guess.”

“I’ve been in Seattle,” Hermann says. “I reckon they’ll be transferring me soon, though I haven’t an idea where.” More rumors, of course.

For a moment he allows himself the brief fantasy of being transferred somewhere with Newton, or perhaps it’s more of a fear than a fantasy—year after year of this sort of insufferable awkwardness? Being forced to work together? It’s something Hermann had longed for in the past, spending every day with his marvelous penpal at his side. It instills a sort of nausea in him now. Newton touches his arm before Hermann has the chance to excuse himself hide in the loo. “Hey, dude, listen,” Newton says. “About us getting coffee. I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Hermann can’t help it; he snorts, though he immediately regrets it. Newton, at least, does not look offended. “Do you?” Hermann says. Two and a half bloody years too late.

“I mean it,” Newton says. He blinks earnestly at Hermann, and squeezes Hermann’s arm. “I screwed it all up that day, and I could’ve—I don’t know, written, or texted, or anything to apologize, but I didn’t. And that was shitty of me. So I’m sorry, I really am. And…yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

It’s the last thing Hermann expected to hear today. It’s the last thing he expected to hear from Newton. The radio silence following that disastrous day at the coffee shop had been awful—and it’d been infuriating, too. Where had they even gone wrong that day? Hermann can’t remember anymore. Probably a fight over something inconsequential. “I see,” Hermann says. “Well. Er. Thank you, Newton. Your apology is...appreciated.”

“Cool,” Newton says.

He stares at Hermann expectantly.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “And I’m sorry, too, I suppose.”

“Cool,” Newton repeats.

He smiles at Hermann, and Hermann is momentarily suffocated by it, and the sudden reemergence of feelings he thought he’d quashed years ago. Newton is still very attractive. Very, very attractive. Hermann’s arm is warm and tingly from where Newton touched him, and he realizes the warmth is spreading up to his neck and cheeks—he’s blushing. “Hey, wanna check out the snack table with me?” Newton says. “I love the rich people food at shit like this. The last one I went to had oysters, which is totally weird. Like, it’s a gala.”

Hermann decides to accept it as the strange peace offering it obviously is meant to be. “Alright,” he says. “Though, I insist you explain your monstrosity of a suit first.”

“It’s classy,” Newton says. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, buddy.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

Nothing changed, nothing’s the same

George Weasley x reader

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: step into the angst rollercoaster, angels

This one is written for @weasleydream‘s writing challenge

A/N: not gonna lie, i cried. but writing was like catharsis and I hope it will be too for whoever reads it

‘So maybe we should let it go. Go our own way, alone. We are too attached, George. Maybe we need some time apart to find out who we are as our own person. I am not saying I don’t love you, but all my life I have spent with you and I don’t know any different. I want to see the world, meet new people and make new memories. And I feel like I have to do it alone.’

The pub was crowded. The music was too loud to have a normal conversation and the whole place smelled like sweat. The lights were dimmed so that everyone’s imperfections were obscured. Behind the bar stood a young woman, gaped at by at least five men twice her age, but she ignored their looks and quickly served out drinks.

In the back of the room there was a little stage that tonight was occupied by a band. One man playing the bass in the back and two woman up front playing the guitar and singing. Their shrill voices blasted through the speakers that hung in every corner of the place.

It was not really a bar you’d imagine spending your Friday night in, but alas, here George was, sitting in a booth with Fred, Ron and Harry. He hadn’t even wanted to go out in the first place, but Fred had practically dragged him out of his apartment, stating that he couldn’t handle a drunk Ron and Harry on his own.

‘What can I get ya?’ a young man said as he appeared at the table. He was holding a little notebook in one hand and a small pencil in the other. The boy couldn’t be older than nineteen, though George would have believed it if he had said that he was fifteen.

While Fred gave the man their order, George wondered what a nineteen year old was doing in a pub like this. There were plenty of other, better bars around that would gladly take a young fella like him. But here the man was, nineteen and serving out drinks to sixty years old women in skirts too short and shirts too low.

George turned to his friends and wrote off the boy in his mind. Ron was trying to convince Harry to go up to the two women on stage and ask for a song. Harry, however, denied any offer he made until Ron gave up.

Time passed quickly. At one point George was still regretting his decision to join Fred, the next moment he was laughing loudly to a joke Ron made, while he sipped from his umpteenth pint of beer. The band had been exchanged for something less loud on the radio and there was a good atmosphere in the bar that had seemed so dull at the beginning of the evening.

‘George, brother, it’s your turn,’ Fred said and he pushed some money in George’s hand. Though George knew that they should better stop drinking, he went over to the bar and ordered another four beers. The bartender shot him a friendly smile and turned to pour the beers.

George looked at the men at the bar. They were all past forty five, all were wearing faded coloured shirts and their cheeks were red and their forehead glistening with sweat. George quickly looked at his own reflection in the mirror over the bar and much to his relieve saw that he did not in any way look like the men. He fixed his hair with one hand, while the other was holding the money Fred had given him.

‘Fancy seeing you here,’ a voice cut through the chatter of the bar.

In shock George dropped his hand. He could recognise that voice in any situation. Clear and soft, always ending sentences like there was more to come. It was the voice that he had heard for years every day.

And the voice that he hadn’t heard in a year.

You were resting with your side against the bar, your elbow leaning on the surface. There was a smile on your face. A relaxed smile, one that made anyone want to smile back.

‘Hey,’ George said. ‘What has it been, a year, longer?’

One year, two months and three days. George knew exactly how long ago he had last seen you. It was the day you had left. The day George’s life had taken a downfall, that he still wasn’t sure he had recovered from.

‘Something like that,’ you smiled. ‘How are you?’

George opened his mouth to say something, but the bartender came back with the beers and placed them on the bar. George quickly gave her the money and she turned to you.

While you ordered, George looked at you. You looked good. Better than you had when he had last seen you. Your hair was shorter and darker, not your natural colour. There was a sparkle in your eyes and kindness radiated from your smile. You looked healthier; your cheeks not as hollow and your shoulders fierce and not hanging down.

‘We should meet up some time,’ you said after the bartender had turned around again. ‘I want to know what you’ve been up to.’

‘Oh, it’s not that much,’ George said. ‘But I heard you have had a busy year.’

‘Yeah, I travelled through Europe, how’d you know?’

‘I’ve got my sources,’ George grinned and you laughed, touching his arm lightly. Butterflies erupted in George’s stomach, fluttering around in the empty space.

‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ you asked, while taking the drinks the bartender gave you. George shook his head. ‘Do you want to meet up in the afternoon? I’ve got to help my friend with something in the morning, but I’m free the rest of the day.’

‘Yeah, sure. That sounds great,’ George said with a hoarse voice.

‘Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, George,’ you smiled and walked back to your friends, leaving George with a stone in his stomach that had killed the butterflies.

When he sat back at the table, Fred was the first one to notice George was off. The twin followed his gaze and when Fred saw you his eyes widened. ‘Is that y/n?’

Ron and Harry quickly turned around to and stared in the direction Fred was looking. Ron let out a small gasp and Harry squeezed his eyes to look better at you.

‘She looks good,’ Ron said turning back to George. ‘Did you talk to her?’

‘Shortly, we’re meeting up tomorrow.’

‘You’re meeting up?’ Fred asked. ‘With y/n? The one who broke your heart? You’re meeting up with the person you have taken a year to get over?’

The wind blew through the curtains in front of the open windows. They floated into the room, playing tag with each other and the furniture close. A beam of bright light fell on the floor and the back of the couch, making all the little dust particles that were twirling through the air visible. There was a calm sense in the living room, but George was anything but calm.

Last night under the influence of all the drinks, it had seemed like a good idea meet with you. He had even defended his choice to his friends when they had told him he was a madman. But now his arguments seemed weak and meaningless.

Suddenly his apartment had seemed too small and too messy, while it was not much different from when you had lived there too. In fact, there were still things in the space that George couldn’t bear to change. Like the candles in the bookcase that had turned decorative over the years or the books they stood next to, all untouched and unread, dust covering the titles. There were magazines at the bottom of the closet in the bedroom that had belonged to you. George knew that you would never want them back, but he just couldn’t get rid of them.

Nothing had changed, the walls were still the same colour, the floors hadn’t even lost their tone. The bathroom door still squeaked and the window in the kitchen still would open further than ten centimetres. It was all like you were still living here, which you weren’t.

George was anxiously pacing in the living room, the movement of his legs twirling the dust particles even more. He didn’t want this. It had taken him a year to get over you, if where he was now was ‘over you’. And now he was meeting up with the person that had been haunting his dreams for a year. A person, whose name made him weak in the knees. A person he had failed to forget.

The footsteps outside the door told George you were there before you had even knocked. It was weird to have to open the door for you when once you had had a key yourself.

‘Hi,’ you said with a happy voice, when George opened. He let you in and couldn’t help but look at you when you stepped into what had once been your apartment too. You looked even better than you had looked last night. Now it was light, George could see that your natural hair colour was already coming back at the roots of your hair. Your cheeks glowed with a very thin layer of sweat, like you had been hurrying, and there was a casual smile on your face.

You looked around in the hall and your eyes showed the memories that George had tried, and failed, to forget. He brought you to the living room, where you sat on the couch while George got you something to drink.

‘Love what you have done to the place. It’s all exactly… my taste,’ you smiled at George and shot him a wink. His stomach twisted as he sat down next to you, handing you a glass.

‘Why change something perfectly fine?’ George said, looking around his own living room like he was there for the first time.

A silence fell over the two of you as you sipped from your drink. George wanted to ask you how you were and what you had been up to the past year, but he was afraid of the answer. Afraid that you would say he meant nothing to you anymore. Or that you had met someone else.

‘So what have you been up to?’ you asked George, before he could ask you anything.

‘Basic things. Busy with the store, mostly.’

‘Oh, how’s that going?’

‘Great. Fred and I have expanded with another line of more serious products. It took us a while to figure everything out, but now the ministry has asked for a full load, so there is plenty to do,’ George said, swirling his drink in his glass.

‘That sounds wonderful, George. I’ve always known you could do it,’ you said with a slight grin. George huffed and shook his head. You hadn’t changed as much as George had expected and he felt himself getting more comfortable with the minute. You still had that air of ease around you, that made everyone who was close to you feel comfortable.

‘And you? How have you been?’

A wide smile spread on your smile and you started to tell George about your year of travelling. You had visited so many places, familiar ones and ones that George had never heard of. He tried to focus on what you were saying, but the truth was that he could only focus on you instead of your words. He looked at your eyes, your cheeks, your nose and the way your lips moved when you talked. He got distracted by your hands, that moved around in the air as you described the buildings and monuments you had seen. He remembered those hands. They had been the greatest comfort George had known for so many years.

‘…and they had this wonderful dish, called salade landaise! A friend recommended it to me and you should have tried it, George. It was delicious!’ you exclaimed and you bit your lip as you seemed to drift of for a moment.

‘It sounds like you had fun,’ George said, pulling you back into the conversation.

‘Oh, more than fun. It was the best year of my life,’ you said, your eyes glistening with happiness.

George couldn’t help the sting in his chest as he heard those words. It seemed to him you had had more fun on your own than you had had while you were with him. And that while he had had the worst year of his life.

‘I did miss you,’ you said, your voice suddenly softer and more vulnerable.

George looked at you and nodded. ‘I missed you too.’

‘But I think it was good for us,’ you said, letting your hand rest on George’s leg. ‘It brought insight, didn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ George said with a raspy voice. ‘It did.’

Another silence took over the room. Outside the sun was setting behind the high buildings that surrounded George’s apartment building. A golden light broke through the windows, tracing the sweet curves of your face. An angel’s hand slid over your face and you were more beautiful as ever, the experiences you had gone through evident in your eyes. The stories you had told stood in the irises of your eyes, darker specks in the faded colours. The lines in your face weren’t lines of age but the lines of memories.

George wished you gone and wanted you to stay forever. He couldn’t say goodbye yet, although he knew it would be better if he did. His mind screamed to let you go, but his heart longed for your presence.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he blurted out, regretting the bluntness of his voice immediately.

You, however, shot him a smile and nodded. ‘Yeah, I’d love to.’

The longer George spent with you, the more he was convinced that he still loved you. Talking to you was just as easy as it had ever been, despite the little voice in the back of his head telling him to break it off now if he didn’t want to get his heart broken again. He found himself opening more about his life, telling you about his family and friends, and you listened with great care. The jokes slipped from his tongue without doubt or hesitation and your laugh was sweeter than ever. It was music to his ears, a melody that lingered in his head long after you had stopped laughing.

A little takeaway shop on the corner of the park nearby George’s apartment was the place for dinner. Since it was getting later, George had offered to get dinner somewhere and when you walked by the place that had such a prominent place in the history of your relationship, it was decided without a second thought that you’d eat there.

Sitting on a bench in the park, you pricked your plastic fork in the cardboard box with pasta, while you looked around. When your eyes rested on George, you smiled at him. ‘Do you remember the first time we got food there?’

‘Yeah, moving day,’ George said and he smiled at the memory.

It had been the day that he and you had moved into the apartment. The whole day you had been moving boxes from your parents’ home and his childhood home and when the final box had been placed, it was long past ten at night. You both had not eaten anything yet and hungry and lightly grumpy you had gone outside hoping that there was at least something open. Then you had stumbled upon the little takeaway store. Ever since then he and you had been a regular costumer of the café.

But George hadn’t visited the place since you had left him. He could barely even walk past it without feeling the pain of those happy memories.

‘When I was in France and missed home, this was the food I would get,’ you said. ‘It reminded me of home.’

George kept quiet and stared at his food. Beside him you were looking around the park, playing with the fork against your lips. A soft melody was hummed from your lips and George felt a wave of relaxation wash over him.

It was like nothing had ever changed. Like the past year hadn’t happened. George was back with you and it felt normal.

After dinner you and George strolled through the park. It was getting darker and the lanterns aside the paths were enlightened. The yellowish light fell on the pavement and the little pink flowers in the grass next to the paths. The trees painted dark shadows on the ground and silhouettes played around the edges.

Every time your hands brushed along each other, a spark of electricity was sent up George’s spine. He was reminded of the butterflies that you had always sent to his stomach. In his mind he was reliving the first moments of your relationship. The first touches, the first kiss, the first confessions. You had only been so young, but George had known then that you would be the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And for a long time it had seemed like he would spend the rest of his life with you. You were there with him through everything. His early teens to his early twenties.

But that one day you had ripped his heart out and left it cold bleeding on the floor. You had left without looking back and George had fallen off a cliff. And up until this day he had never known if he had reached the bottom or not, but it seemed now that he had fallen deeper than he had thought.

Were you here to help him up or would he be pulled down in the darkness even more?

You kept still at a big tree and grabbed George’s hand so he would stop too. He was confused why you had stopped him but when he followed your gaze he understood why.

The big tree wasn’t just any tree, it was the tree where you had first ever told George that you wanted to be with him for the rest of your life. It had been a cold November night and George could still remember the exact words that you had said to him and the sweet kiss that you had given him after. Your cold lips were imprinted on his skin, like a scar that would never fade. That had been a year before you had left.

A sigh left your lips as you stared at the tree. You kept holding George’s hand and he squeezed it lightly as if asking you to walk on. You nodded and turned away from the tree, walking on while holding George’s hand in yours.

Soon you reached the end of the park and so much faster than George wanted you were back at his apartment. He closed the door behind you two and a tensed silence fell in the hall. George looked at you as you stood on the other side of the space, your hands playing with the buttons of your coat.

‘Do you want to come in for a drink or do you have somewhere to go?’ George asked, slightly surprised by the ease of his voice.

‘No, I’d like a drink,’ you said with a small voice, taking off your coat.

George went into the kitchen and you followed after him, taking place at the dining table. George made tea with shaking hands. The easy air between the two of you had changed into a more tensed, serious one. This wouldn’t be the time for jokes and laughs.

Sitting opposite of you, George sighed and then looked at you. You took his hand over the table and looked back at him. George thought he already could read the message in your eyes, but he couldn’t just let you walk away without it being said.

‘I remember what you said to me at that tree,’ he started, his voice quivering a bit. ‘You said that you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life. That I had formed for you a home and a place that you could always come back to. You told me you loved me more than you would ever love anyone else.’

A sad smile made its way to your lips. ‘We were too young, too dumb, to know love.’

Your voice was warm and yet it made George’s inside turn into ice. His blood stopped flowing and his heart stung in his chest. He sighed and dropped his eyes off you. His hand moved away from your touch and his other clenched together under the table. He was fighting the tears, but feared he couldn’t keep them in long.

‘Oh, George,’ you said with a soothing voice. ‘I’m sorry.’

A tear passed the façade and slid down George’s cheek. He shook his head and swallowed harshly. He wasn’t mad at you, nor was he blaming you. But he wished it would all go away. He wished there was a way to reminisce you without the pain.

‘I wished we never met, ‘cause you’re too hard to forget,’ George whispered, yet his voice echoed through the silent room.

He only looked up when he heard the sobs from you. You had your face in your hands and your body was shocking from the crying. George got up and walked around the table, holding out his arms to you. You leaped into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around his torso. The dull pain was soothed a little at your touch.

For minutes, maybe an hour or more or less, you stood in each other’s embrace, just letting it soften the inevitable pain that came from heartbreak. You rested your cheek against George’s shoulder and he was resting his cheek on your head. You could hear this heart beating in your ear and the way it slowed down over time. The tears had dried, leaving aching traces on both your cheeks.

‘You’ll be alright,’ you whispered in George’s ear, your breath tickling his skin.

You would go away, like you had before. But this time you wouldn’t leave him unprepared for what was to come. He knew how he would feel when you stepped out of the door, when you left the place that would now never be yours again.

And where the last time you had left George in the dark, this time there was a little spark of light in his chest. Hope and determination that he would get out of the dark again. It was dark now, but it would get light again. After all, every dark shade hid a place of light, it was only his job to move the curtain.

‘We’ll be okay.’

--------

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

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On Your Six, Chapter 8

You’re going to be offended when I tell you I’m still not done. How did this happen? How did this end chapter get so long that I have to break it in half and I still have not finished it?

Oh right, I wrote myself into a corner and had to get myself out of it in the most outlandish way possible. Yeah that checks out.

For now please enjoy chapter 8 of what is now a 9-chapter story. Because I have no self control.

Day 8: Free Day for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: Hang...

Qrow was thirty-two when it finally happened.

He was working out of Mantle on the cusp of winter. The bustling, compact metropolis had become a bit of a mainstay for him over the years, thanks to his connections with the Omega Alliance. The political party had formed half a decade ago, heralded by none other than Robyn Hill. The movement was quickly becoming a worldwide spectacle, with more factions forming in every major city of the four kingdoms almost every week. With the main branch strategically close to Atlas though, it had become a media-struggle to both stay in the spotlight and to silence the oppressed.

It was just the kind of thing that might turn the tides for omega rights once and for all.

However, for Qrow, the Alliance had become a bit of a safe haven. The group had welcomed him in with open arms and encouraged him to continue his work, with the stipulation the Alliance would be endorsing the rebranding efforts in their press conferences and rallies. In turn, he was given a ‘secret nesting spot’ no matter where he seemed to travel to and a donation fund that kept him so well off, Tai stopped trying to measure his waistline with his eyes whenever he came to visit. All the while, his anonymity was kept intact and his clientele full.

It seemed like an eternity since he’d been able to live so comfortably.

Which led him to where he was that fateful day. The Greenleaf Inn was a well-sized, three-star hotel that always conveniently had its mini-suite open whenever he was around. The bed alone was worth its weight in lien, but the mini-bar fridge and spa tub made him feel like he was a king. The extra space also allowed for more pleasant accommodations for his clients.

That day, he was working with a young journalist by the name of Forest. He was a chatterer and a bit of a political enthusiast, his support for the Alliance borderline fanatic. Most of their time was spent discussing current events.

“Vacuo’s press conference is all in an uproar. Pride leader Kali can’t even get a word in edgewise; no one’s listening to her. It’s all looking pretty bad – then her Alpha gets to his feet. He’s like a monster of a man – wider than a truck and tall as a house. Everyone shuts up when he clears his throat and says his mate has something to say. Then he just sits down and lets her talk. Sienna reported that Kali turned into a real lioness and took charge!” Forest mimicked the swiping of claws. “It was spectacular! But of course, the headlines are all about what Ghira did and Kali’s performance is just a side note. It’s always about the alphas – uh, no offense.”

Well maybe discussing was too strong a term. “None taken.” Qrow replied offhandedly from the floor, more concerned with getting the arch of the fox’s face just right where it curled over the shin bone. He wasn’t even sure Forest heard him anyways.

“Suppose the end result is what matters though. Vacuo was the last agenda we needed to be on. Now we’re ensured the UFK really starts discussing omega affairs this winter. And I think-”

He never did find out what Forest thought – because a rapping on the door cut him off. Qrow turned off his pen, wary as he got to his feet. It wasn’t typical he got visitors out of the blue.

Then a voice shouted from the other side. “Harbinger, hurry up!”

“May?” Forest sat upright.

Qrow was already across the room in two strides, throwing open the door. The blue-haired omega was in a state, her scent bleeding panic as she cut right to the chase, “You need to get out of here! The police are in the lobby, looking for you!”

“What?!” He barked, heart rate skyrocketing. “But how?”

May pushed him back, hurrying inside. “Don’t know. Joanna’s trying to stall, but we only got a few minutes at most before this place is crawling. What do you need? Forest, you too, get up!”

The reporter seemed to snap out of his daze, jumping to his feet. “Why don’t we just hide in another room?”

“That might work for you, but not him. They’re gonna raze this place from the ground up.”

“Then hide him. I’m going down the stairwell.” Qrow insisted, having already thrown his kit back together and snapping the case closed. He got to his feet, pulling his scroll from his pocket. “Here. Destroy it.”

She looked from the device to him, uncertain. “But I can help-”

“No.” He barely withheld the growl. “You’re a lead member of Atlas’ branch. They see you helping me and the kingdom’s gonna run with the bad press. You don’t need that, especially not with the UFK assembly so close.”

For one long terrible moment, he was certain she was going to keep arguing. But any bluster was blown out with a heavy sigh and a helpless, “Good luck.”

He was going to need it.

“Shit.” Qrow cursed as he caught a gander of the lobby floor from the little window in the stairwell door. The place was crawling. He could already see a pair of officers at the elevator doors. There was almost definitely one at every exit point as well.

He backed up, trying to think. There was no way he was getting out undetected and the moment they started questioning him or asking for identification, he was going to be in trouble. He thought about reconsidering Forest’s idea – but even if they played a game of Scooby Doo chase with the cops, it wasn’t going to be long before they caught sight of him. He couldn’t just go up to his room and wait for the inevitable either.

He was trapped. His only hope was if he spontaneously learned how to fly.

Unless… He tilted his head up, looking at the flights of stairs. Which went all the way up to the roof.

The buildings weren’t that far apart.

It was crazy. But, it might be his only chance.

Qrow shoved his tattoo kit underneath the last stairwell, pushing it in the corner until the black case was hidden in the shadows. It would be too heavy to take with him. He’d just have to hope no one would be able to find it in the meantime. Appeased, he rushed up the stairs, trying to take several at a time. He was about halfway up the third when he heard the first-floor door open. He froze.

“You really think he’ll come down this way?” A voice, high and reedy, floated up from below.

The other voice was gruff and masculine. “You heard the chief, Viola. She wants all exits covered.”

“Just seems excessive Taylor. All of us for a guy not even hurting anyone.”

“Rookie, I’ll give you some advice: the judgment calls are for the courts. We just need to do our jobs. And yours right now is to get to that top floor in case our perp makes a break for the roof, capeesh?”

She sighed. “Got it.”

The first footfall hit the steps.

Qrow thought about it for half a second – and then he bolted.

Surprise was on his side, because it took the officers a precious few seconds to understand before their shouts rang up and they started chasing after him. He could hear Taylor fumbling with a radio, calling for backup. By that point, Qrow was bypassing the second floor and heading toward the third.

“Stop! Police!” Viola’s voice cracked on the yell.

He felt kind of bad, scaring the newbie. Had he had any breath left, he might have shouted back an apology. As it were, all his focus went onto the stairs in front of him, trying his best not to fall as he climbed five… six… seven… eight-

Bam!

The roof access door swung open and hit the brick. He paused long enough to scope his options –apartment complex to the left, half a story lower, flat rooftop; warehouse to the right, higher, guardrail fencing on the perimeter – before he made a decision and skirted left. The ground underneath him was slippery from rainfall that had frosted over with late autumn’s crisper temperatures, so he struggled for traction, preparing to jump.

“Don’t do it!” Viola yelled just as he did it.

For a moment, as he leapt over ten feet through the air, nothing below but a sharp drop to the alleyway, he felt weightless and free. He really was flying.

And then realty was rushing up to meet him as his feet hit the opposite roof, slipped on the ice, and slipped again when his hands weren’t enough to catch him. The impact, mostly taken on his right side, was jarring and left him a little breathless and aching. Still, he was able to stand a few moments after, turning back to look at the officers staring down at him across the gap.

“Ha! Better luck next time turkeys!” Qrow saluted them before he strut towards the roof hatch. Now all he had to do was-

Wait.

Why was everything spinning?

The distant sound of cars was fading, and as he lifted his hand to his face, he watched it double before his eyes.

Shit. He was gonna-

The ground rushed up to meet him a second time, having just enough consciousness left to land on his back.

He watched the sky above him until the last star blinked out.

She’d been staring at him for the past five minutes.

He could just barely see her above the pages of the newspaper he was pretending to read. He figured she would eventually go and pester her dad, just one room over and making quite a racket in the kitchen as Tai no doubt overdid it in trying to be the perfect host (and would only try harder if Qrow told him it was no big deal). But the longer he tried to wait her out, the more it became obvious his niece had a mission and he was part of it.

Eventually he folded – both the newspaper and his resolve – and turned to her, trying not to be appear as intimated by a mere child as he actually kind of was, “Something wrong?”

Yang lifted her chin up high, stomped her way over from the staircase to his little corner of the couch, and slammed a box of markers down on the coffee table. “Make me pretty.”

“Huh?”

“Like daddy.” She said with great exasperation. She climbed up beside him and with the lack of shame only children could have pulled off the shirt of her PJs and turned so her back could face him. “I want to be pretty too.”

Understanding slowly dawned on him. “Shouldn’t we ask your dad first?”

“I did, he said it was fine.” She hadn’t but Tai thought it was too adorable to be mad about it.

“Alright then.” Qrow turned, pulling a blue marker from the box. But when he turned back to face her, the pen was now black and Yang was two years older. “What do you want this time firecracker?”

“A motorcycle!” She shouted, bouncing excitedly.

He laughed, draping her long hair over her shoulder. “A motorcycle? Now what would a girl like you want that for?”

“I’ma get one when I’m older. Daddy said! I can get a real motorcycle when I turn eighteen.” She told him.

He uncapped the marker. “And that’s what you want, huh?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “He said I could get a real tattoo too, as long as I think really hard about it since this one won’t come off in the bath.”

Qrow started to outline the wheels. “That’s right. You want to make sure it’s something you want forever.”

“Once I decide, you’ll do it for me, right?”

The words halted him momentarily, overcome by the sudden fondness filling his heart. “’Course I will.”

“You swear?” Yang turned her head, trying to look serious but only managing to look adorably pouty. “Even if they pop out your eyes?”

The snort of surprise burst out of him. “It’s scratch out your eyes – and yes, even then.” And just so she could know that he meant it, he crossed an X over his heart.

“Good.”

He pressed the marker back to her skin, moving onto the bike’s frame, when Tai called out to him, “Qrow, look!”

He rose his head, looking out across the yard to see the omega holding a square, plywood board between his hands. As he gave the nod, Yang didn’t hesitate to bust her fist right through it.

“Looking good!” Qrow called back, before turning back to Ruby. Draped over his lap so she could reach her toys, she was making little action noises with her mouth as she crushed Bastinda underneath Zwei’s massive paws. He was just adding the color to the fur of the corgi version on her back.

A sharp movement had Bastinda flying down the porch steps and a stripe of white going all over her back. Luckily, six-year-olds weren’t picky.

“Bye, bye mean witch.” Ruby waved before she started taking her wolf on a walk along his side. “Uncle Qrow, who’s your favorite?”

He wrinkled his nose, trying not to think of the shoddy reboot that was slowly destroying the integrity of the original. Still, he answered honestly, “Rosette.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she was the big hero.” He explained. “I wanted to be just like her growing up.”

Her eyes lit up. “And now you are her, right?”

He quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy told me that’s why you’re gone so long, ‘cause you’re out making the world a better place.” Another stripe went down her back. She blinked curiously. “Why’d your face go all red?”

“Ah, nevermind that! Hey, you know what this needs?” He looked away, grabbing at the pink marker.

It was the same color his cheeks had been by the time he was turning back around, no longer outside but sitting up in Ruby’s room, consoling the sniffling ten-year-old the only way he knew how.

As he added to the growing chain of roses growing along her shoulder blades, he said, “Don’t let them get to you kid.”

“But it’s not fair! I’m way faster at running bases than Cardin, but they made me sit on the bench the whole time! I didn’t even get to play.” She swiped angrily at her eyes.

If Qrow listened real hard, he could hear Tai’s voice rising from downstairs. The phone call didn’t seem to be going well. “You’re right, it’s not fair at all. Do you know why your teacher did that?”

“Because,” Ruby buried her face in her pillow, the rest coming out muffled, “I’m going to be an omega and omegas don’t do great things.”

He was glad she couldn’t see his scowl. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t.” He capped the marker, setting it aside before shifting on his knees, brushing back her hair with his fingers. “Because I’ve met omegas from all over the world, and so many of them are doing great things every single day. Dangerous things even, all so that they can make things more fair for everyone. They’re some of the bravest people I know.”

She rose her head. “Really?”

“Really. But you know what the big secret is?” He lent back, tapping his scent gland. “It doesn’t matter what’s here.” He tapped his head. “It matters what’s in here. As long as you put your mind to it and work hard at it, then there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Ruby considered this, asking, “You’re not just saying that?”

“Hey now, take it from the alpha who can draw. I know my stuff kiddo.”

It earned him one of the few things she seemed to share with her dad – a bright, beautiful smile. But as she went to a respond, a knocking on the door drew his attention.

Qrow blinked blearily at the cell doors where the guard was banging his nightstick against the metal. “Branwen, up! You got a visitor.”

Gingerly, he pulled himself up, his healing ribs screaming in protest at the movement. It took several moments longer before he could actually stand and shuffle his way out the door, following the guard down the hall. He kept his head down, not wanting to meet eyes with any of the other prisoners.

Since he was injured, he was being kept in the protective custody side of the prison. It had its bonuses – he didn’t have to share a cell or run through the motions the general population side did. He also didn’t have to cuff up when they let him out of his cell, mostly because they couldn’t get them on around the sling. The downside was the PC side of the jail was also where the most violent criminals were kept. There was one inmate in particular who-

“Oh little bird, you’ve come fluttering my way yet again.” Tyrian jeered.

-particularly got on his nerves. Qrow didn’t look up, but that didn’t stop the fierce growl from leaving his throat. The serial killer only cackled at his display.

If this was what it was like in here, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d survive once he was reassigned into GP. A whole room full of alphas, all of them constantly competing for dominance, was a disaster waiting to happen. Not for the first time since he’d arrived, did he start wishing he’d presented differently. He’d have better chances in an omega-beta prison.

So preoccupied he was by his anxious thoughts, he’d forgotten entirely why he was out of bed in the first place until he was walking into the visitor’s area. The section was marked by a row of doors, each one leading into a small room that had nothing more than a few chairs and a wooden counter separated in half by bulletproof plexiglass. There was a metal, slated ring in it to allow the two parties to talk.

The guard unlocked the rightmost room, saying, “You’ve got one hour,” before swinging open the door.

Seeing a familiar face, even if it was only Clover Ebi’s, filled him with so much joy he could have cried.

The soldier was all smiles for him, though the cursory look over he gave him left a twist of worry at the corner of his eyes. “Hey Qrow. I’m so relieved to see you. You look… rough.”

“What gave that implication? The fractured wrist or the three broken ribs?” He replied tightly, delicately sitting down. “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know my name either.”

“’Fraid everyone does at this point. You’re all over the news.”

He grimaced. “Internationally?”

“If I said no, would it make you feel better?”

“Not if I know you’re lying.” Gods, Tai was probably having a heart attack right now. And the girls… he wondered if they even fully understood what was going on. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Clover’s expression was one of sympathy. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Now that I’ve found you, we can get you a good lawyer, rather than the pro bono one they appointed you to. Robyn’s already running rallies in the streets of every kingdom and donation rings to hire the best in the business. And Fiona’s calling about a dozen firms a day. She’s already got-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Qrow cut him off, disoriented. “Slow down trigger. I get I’m not in a great position, but isn’t that a bit excessive for a small end criminal court case? And anyways, it’s not like I’m going to trial tomorrow.”

His flippancy only seemed to make the omega more agitated as he lent back, running a hand over his face. “Oh shit. They didn’t assign you a counsel, did they?”

“I’m not that depressed.”

“A legal counsel Qrow!” He scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, now he was so off-track he wasn’t even sure he boarded the train. “Am I… missing something?”

With a deep breath, Clover schooled his features, resting his arms along the tabletop to lean forward. “Qrow, your crime is being considered as a global offense. They’re expediating your case through the process so you can be tried at the UFK.”

Realty cracked and shattered around him.

“W-What?!” He squawked, panic setting in immediately. “Are you fucking serious?!” When the other could only offer him a solemn nod, Qrow withdrew, dropping his head onto the table and curling his one good arm around his face, as if it would be enough to shield him from the future. “Oh Gods. Oh fuck.”

He was screwed. Utterly and royally.

The UFK, or United Four Kingdoms, assembly was a yearly session of the kingdom’s four heads of state and their councils. Mostly it was a peace gathering, a way to discuss the improvements or needs of each kingdom and provide support or discuss any eco-social changes that may need addressing. It was why the Alliance had been so prominent in recent months; so that the four heads might talk about potential alternations to omega rights. A discussion that had not been gaining enough, if any, traction in the past few years. That was why Robyn had organized the ‘Prides’ – a central team in each kingdom whose sole job was to attend the national press conferences and make a loud enough roar that the council would have to take notice. Each one had done a fantastic job, and the news channels had been bustling with stories about how this year’s session would absolutely have to focus on the matter of omega equality.

And in one fell swoop, Qrow had ruined that.

Trials weren’t unheard of at the UFK, but they were extremely rare. In the eighty years the assembly had been convening, there’d only been three prior cases that had gone to court there and each one had had a huge impact on universal laws. If he was tried and convicted, there was no telling what impact his case would have.

A tapping on the glass made him look up tentatively.

Clover’s jaw was set with determination. “It’s okay, Qrow. We’re here to help you.”

“No!” He sat up, gritting his teeth around the pain it caused him. “None of you should get involved! I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Qrow, think for a minute – do you really believe your arrest was just a coincidence?”

That drew him up short. “I…”

“Face it, you’re not exactly impossible to locate. Someone’s probably known where you were for a while and they were just waiting for the perfect moment to bring you in.” He indicated the air around them. “And this is it. The absence of counsel, the lack of prep time, keeping your whereabouts classified. It all adds up. They’re trying to turn you into a scapegoat.”

It was hard logic to beat. Qrow wasn’t exactly uninformed on just how messed up the legal system could be – and the more involved he’d gotten with his work, the deeper the rabbit hole just seemed to go. But to have it be twisted onto him in such a way, like he was merely everyone else’s plaything, made him feel violated.

He wondered how his mother would have felt, seeing him like this.

“So now what?” Qrow finally asked.

“Now, we fight back.” Clover replied assuredly. “Your case could be a gamechanger for omegas everywhere. We aren’t just going to lie down and watch it happen.”

He snorted. “So you’re turning the scapegoat into a martyr.”

“No.” The soldier declined, then added with a quirk of his lips, “We’re turning you into our harbinger.”

It took Qrow a moment to get it. Then he laughed.

A harbinger of change. There might just be some hope left after all.

Three days later, he met his defense attorneys.

Pietro was a kindly, wheelchair-bound beta with thirty years of experience. The minute the man started talking, it was obvious he knew his stuff as he lined out what to expect for the court process and what laws that may entangle them from certain kingdoms they might have to prepare for. Things Qrow hadn’t even considered, like operating a business out of a building with only a residential grade fire system – a law the more wildfire prone Mistral took very seriously.

His understudy was named Rhodes. Also a beta, as all lawyers were, the man had only a few years on Qrow himself, but he had a sharp wit and passionate aspiration for justice. He spent most of the time keeping a detailed note log on the things being said, explaining it would help them decide on the best strategy to use when they were in front of the UFK.

“The most difficult thing we have to contend with is time.” Rhodes affirmed. “Unlike most high-profile cases handled in the courts, the kingdoms aren’t going to allow the hearing to go beyond a single day so it doesn’t interfere with the other agendas they have to get too. That means limited evidence presentation and witness testimonies. We’ve got about eight hours to prove you’re an innocent man, which means every second in that room is going to count.”

Qrow swallowed hard. “What about the jury? They on a time limit too?”

“No. The jury are the councils.” Pietro explained. “The members of each kingdom’s council board will give their verdict, and it’s the majority vote of each council that decides their verdict. As long as you get a unanimous majority, you’ll be given your verdict. So, our focus will need to be on swaying each kingdom individually.”

Yeah. No pressure.

Rhodes tapped the end of his pen on the desk between them. “As you can see, it’s a bit of a balancing act. Ideally, our witness testimonies need to come from all over. If you can get us even just a moderate list of people from each kingdom you believe would be willing to speak for you then we can scope out the best choice from each one.”

“Perhaps.” The elder beta intoned, rubbing his chin. “Though Vale may not need any pushing. Our focus should truly lie in targeting the kingdom’s core values.”

“We also need to make sure to address the issues with improper due process.”

“A fine point.”

“I hope you both know I’m barely keeping up with this.” Qrow admitted.

Pietro smiled forgivingly. “Don’t worry your head about it, my boy. Just focus on giving us everything we can possibly work with to keep you out of jail. Do you have any family or friends who might speak on your credibility of character?”

There was only one person that came to mind – and there was no way he would even dare suggest Tai to spill his whole story for millions to hear.

“No.” He replied shortly.

“Not even-”

“Really. No. My old man’s a deadbeat. I haven’t seen my sister in over a decade. And unless these things come with a séance, my mom ain’t gonna have much to say either.” He lent back, shrugging his good shoulder. “As for friends, I haven’t exactly been living stably to form many close relationships. ‘Fraid I won’t be much use on that list either – never kept a detailed record to keep my clients safe. But, I know someone who just might be able to rally up a few.”

Pietro nodded. “Then let’s start there.”

Thankfully, that was the last time they asked him about family.

One day short of a week later, he was visited by someone other than his attorneys.

This time, the sight of a familiar face did actually make him cry, even if Tai immediately laid into him.

“You jumped off a roof?! What in the Gods’ Realms were you thinking? You could have died!” Tai smacked his hand on the table for emphasis. He wasn’t even sitting, too agitated to. Had the glass not been separating them, he was pretty sure he would have been in for the ear pinching of his life. “Are you okay, or did the fall knock out what little brain cells you have left?!”

Yet, the omega’s worry was so strong, Qrow could scent it through the little holes in the metal ringlet. It was familiar and more comforting then even a single second locked up in this awful place could even marginally hope to feel like. So, he broke down harder.

Tai sighed and gave up, dropping his forehead against the glass. Qrow struggled to reign himself in, but the days had been too long, too awful and too terrifying to stop the broken dam. The most he managed to get out was a wobbly, “m’sorry.” As he curled himself over the desk.

They hovered there, in silence.

Then, for the second time in his life, Tai purred at him, “I‘m here. You’re okay.”

It was like being draped in an extra soft blanket or pulled into an exceptionally warm hug, something he felt from the inside out. The shakes started to fade and the tears slowed to a drizzle, and then even that went away.

When he lifted his head, Qrow could almost pretend the outburst hadn’t happened at all. “Sorry, meds I’m on just make me emotional.”

“Sure they do.” Tai let him lie, finally taking his seat with the heavy gracelessness of someone who just got off an overnight flight.

While there were at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask, the most prominent came forward first: “Where are the girls?”

“In the waiting room. Ruby got scared. Somehow she got it in her head you’d be crippled.” He gave him a disdainful look, “Can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

He hid his grimace behind a smile, “Shoulda just told her birds my age can fly.”

It was the wrong thing to say as Tai scowled. “Don’t joke! Seriously, I can’t believe how idiotic that was. You’re lucky that little stunt only resulted in a few injuries.”

“Well, I ain’t feeling very lucky.” He snapped back. “Seriously what did you want me to do?”

The omega threw up his hands. “Not try to kill yourself! Do you know how terrified I was?! And then I couldn’t find you no matter how many jails and hospitals I called and I thought-!” His shoulder dropped. “I don’t know what I thought.”

But Qrow knew. He knew exactly what kind of worst-case scenarios must have played through his head when suddenly Qrow was all over the headlines after he tried to escape police arrest and was transported to a nearby care facility for his injuries, only to then disappear completely, the system deliberately hiding him to secure him for the big case. It wasn’t until he’d started meeting with Pietro and Rhodes that he’d learnt just how many infringements of his rights there’d already been. He wasn’t even supposed to be in a prison without being tried first. They were trying to work it into his case.

“If it weren’t for Robyn I never would of even of found you.”

Qrow’s confusion spiked. “Wait, how do you know her?”

“I don’t. She called me off your scroll.” So much for destroying it. “Once she got me in the loop, I took the first flight over I could.”

He didn’t know whether to feel thankful, or violated.

Wait.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Robyn was the one he’d directed his attorney team too. “She didn’t tell you anything else, did she? About the trial?”

“She just told me you were going in for it soon and that you could use some support.” Tai replied. “They aren’t really letting anyone in to see you if they can’t show that they’re family. I had to bring Yang’s birth certificate just to get in here.”

(Qrow might have cited Clover – if he wasn’t fairly certain the man could get himself into anywhere on badges and charisma alone.)

Still, relief swept through him. By whatever graces of the Gods there were, it sounded like Robyn had played him straight on this one. She must have figured out why he’d chosen not to disclose that information himself – and of that he could be grateful. He’d rather spend a hundred years in jail then let any of his family take the stand.

Now he just had to make sure Tai didn’t screw the pooch instead.

“Just be careful with that little tidbit. If the press gets a whiff of it, they’ll be all over you.” He warned.

If anything, Tai seemed insulted. “I’m not afraid of some headliners. I can handle it.”

“Can the girls?” The statement drew the omega up short. Qrow felt bad, playing that card, but it wasn’t like reporters had a moral compass. “Just being realistic. This case isn’t exactly coasting quietly under the table, and the last thing I want is my family being dragged into it all ‘cause of my mistakes.”

“They’re not mistakes.”

“Renegade behavior then.”

“You-!” Tai sighed, running a hand down his face frustratedly. “Stop that. You’re not a joke, you know?”

It was Qrow’s turn to draw up short, heart catching in his throat.

Tai barreled on, unconcerned with his organ transplant. “I’m proud of what you do. More than that, I believe in what you do. You make a difference, every day, even if it seems small. You wouldn’t have risked so much, if you didn’t think that yourself. So will you please try to trust in that, so you can tell those judges where to shove it?”

Still stuck in limbo, his heart pressed insistently against his voice box, willing him to say those accursed three words that desperately wanted to burst out. Instead, all he managed was a wheeze of laughter, and a quiet, “I will.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Tai got to his feet. “I’m going to go get the girls, okay?”

“Okay.” He watched him head for the door, calling just as he opened it. “And Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

For supporting me.

For being here with me.

For always knowing just what I need to hear.

He couldn’t decide on what was most important to say, so it all got stuck just like before.

Tai smiled like he’d heard them all regardless. “Anytime.”

“Are you ready, my boy?”

Qrow looked away from the airship window, where the Amity Tower was looming, to Pietro’s kind smile. It did little to calm the storm in his stomach. “Pretty sure no one’s ever ‘ready’ for this. My whole life’s about to be decided by a bunch of rich assholes who’ve probably never used the word ‘struggle’ in their lives.”

“Then I suppose it’s up to you to define it for them.”

He scoffed, falling back against the glass. “Hate to tell you this wheels, but English was my worst class.”

That at least earned him a hearty laugh. “You know there’s a saying among us lawyers: You don’t cry until it’s all over. So for now, keep your chin up and fight hard.”

Would be an easier fight if it didn’t feel like he was armed with only a pocketknife going against a trove of machine guns. Still, he couldn’t deny the weight of that sentiment. Especially knowing there was so much more to this fight than just what would happen to him.

Momentarily, as he shut his eyes, he could see Ruby. Coming home with tears streaming down her face after being told she wasn’t good enough to play baseball like the other kids. What if her fears were realized and she did present omega? What if she didn’t and, beyond all expectation, Yang did instead? What if one day, someone decided to throw either one of them into a reformatory and he wasn’t there to overwrite the wrongs?

The idea made him sick inside.

He rose up, facing Pietro once more. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Qrow tried to hold onto that feeling of confidence as long as he could as he continued to watch Amity Tower draw near. Like a beacon welcoming travelers to its side, the building stood alone on the seaside of the most northern part of Sanus. It wasn’t really a tower – it was more akin to a concert hall in size and shape. But it got its name from the spire that shot up in the middle of the roof. The decorative piece was meant to mimic the communication towers that each kingdom built to allow for scroll communication across the nations. A display that proclaimed this place would always be a venue in which the kingdoms could speak freely to one another.

As they began their descent towards the airstrip, he finally noticed the crowd. Circling Amity like a school of sharks were dozens upon dozens of people. They were spilling out along the grand front steps and thickly congested across the massive lawn area to the point barely a patch of green could be seen.

“What in all realms is going on?” Qrow breathed. He’d expected a few news reporters, sure. But nothing like this.

Before he could answer, Pietro’s scroll began to ring. He was quick to answer it. “Ah Rhodes, got here safely then? How are the witnesses doing?”

“Everyone is settled and prepared.” He replied assuredly. “Heard you guys were touching down, so I figured I’d warn you about the protest group.”

“Group?” Qrow echoed. “That’s an army. What are they even protesting?”

“Your arrest.”

His head snapped around; eyes wide.

Rhodes continued, unaware, “They’re all omegas or omega supporters from every nation in Remnant. They’ve been gathering here for days.”

“Incredible.” Pietro declared, adjusting his spectacles. “In all my years, I’ve never seen something quite like this.”

The rest of the conversation faded to background noise as he turned back towards the window, something unexplainable but good lifting him. Somewhere inside of him, he knew they weren’t really here for him, but what he represented. He was a loose cog in the machine, a shift from the system, a shield against the onslaught of endless ammo. Or, as Clover had jokingly coined, their harbinger of change.

Yet it didn’t stop him from feeling overwhelmed with support as the doors to the airship opened and the roar of cheers started up. It was a massive, thunderous noise that shook him to his very core then solidified there like an unbreakable diamond, giving him strength he hadn’t had just minutes ago.

Even as he was led out in cuffs, barred between two officers, he found himself walking tall. Like land making way for a river, the crowd parted for them. Some were carrying signs that said things like ‘Justice for Qrow’ and ‘Branwen can win’. There was even a really ridiculous one that said ‘Uncage our bird!’, complete with an illustration of a crow in a birdcage.

They made him smile, as did the few encouragements that he managed to pick out from rumble of hollers trying to reach him.

“You got this!”

“We’re here with you!”

“Your story’s not over yet!”

He carried it all the way up the stairs and through the entrance. Yet, as the large ornate double doors swung closed behind him, it muffled most of the noise.

Silenced once more.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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