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mosswillow · 4 years

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Come back (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Dark! 18+, stalking, cults, kidnapping, blood, drugging, bondage.

Summary: Your father's death brings you back to your childhood home and the cult you grew up in. You just need a few days to pack things up before selling the place and leaving forever.

A/N This is for @tansypoisoning spooky challenge. I picked the words nostalgia and ritual as a prompt. It’s supposed to have a horror element. I was going for more of a suspenseful/creepy vibe.

It’s been eight years since you left. You walked away and never looked back, at least not until you got the call that your father had passed away in his sleep. His only possession, the small cabin you grew up in, was willed to you. So now you stand outside the cabin, suitcase in hand, taking deep breaths before opening the door and walking in. You look around the one room cabin, taking it all in. you’re surprised to feel nostalgia creep into your bones. A blanket on the couch reminds you of forts you used to build. The smell of the forest brings back memories of climbing trees and picking wild fruit. You notice a knife sitting on the kitchen counter and imagine your father whittling figures out of wood. You look back on your childhood with mixed emotions. It was a cult, plain and simple. Leaving was the hardest thing you ever did but it was necessary. You feel happy and free now. You’ve made new friends and family. You’ve gotten an education, a job. You’ve fallen in and out of love multiple times. You’ve lived life to the fullest. So looking around now and feeling loss is both unexpected and unwelcome.

“Y/N?”

A voice brings you out of your head. You look over to see a mountain of a man standing in the doorway. The last time you saw him was right before you left. The cult had told you that you and him were chosen to marry. It’s not that you hadn’t liked Steve or anything, you just couldn’t do it. You had made friends in the city who had helped you get out. They introduced you to the internet and taught you that there’s more to the world than the little community in the woods. You were to marry him as soon as you turned eighteen but instead you left without a word.

Steve stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before. His eyes travel down your body, stopping at your breasts for a few seconds. You cover them by crossing your arms and force yourself not to step back. You don’t owe him anything and shouldn’t feel intimidated by his presence.

“You look good Steve.”

“So do you.”

The two of you stand in silence for several moments longer than is comfortable.

“What are you doing here Steve?”

“Come back Y/N.”

Steve cuts in without interlude, his voice strong and commanding. You close your eyes and brace yourself. He’s always been like this, all of the men you grew up with had the same attitude, Stubborn and assertive. You had hoped you wouldn’t see Steve because you knew exactly what his reaction would be, that he would aggressively try to make you stay.

People in the cult can’t remarry. They have the belief that soulmates exist and once yours is picked that’s it. When you left you were condemning Steve to a lifetime alone. The price of your freedom was Steve's. He would not be allowed to rise in the cult without being married, would never have children or have what the cult deems is a fulfilled life. You remind yourself again that you don’t owe Steve anything. He can leave just like you did.

“No.”

you make your voice sound as strong as you can. you were taught from childhood that women are supposed to be submissive and docile. It comes back now in full force, pushing you down like an invisible hand. You’re a boss now, having worked hard to create the life you have. You’re strong and confident but here, under the watch of Steve's cold blue eyes you feel like a child.

A look of apathy moves across Steve's face before his expression lands in a controlled smile. Your body language wavers and you take a step back. Steve smirks at you, leaning against the doorframe.

“How long are you staying?”

“Just a few days, I’m just going through some stuff before I sell the place.”

Steve nods and places his hand on his chin, scratching the stubble that surrounds his jaw.

“Stay safe Y/N”

With that he leaves, shutting the door softly behind him. You walk to the window and look out to see a group of cult members dressed in white cloaks surrounding the cabin, half hidden in the woods. They just stand there, unmoving like zombies. You shudder and close the blinds, locking the door quickly. You need to get out of this place as soon as possible.

---

That evening you hear a knock on your door. You walk to the window and peak out. Nobody is there. You open your door and find a dead rat. A steak knife punctures through the eyeball into its head. You gasp and close the door quickly, locking it and stepping back. You check every window to make sure they’re all locked and look out at the woods only to see darkness.

After the sun rises you open your door and run to your car. It won’t start. You curse, returning to the cabin and grabbing your cell phone. There’s no reception and you curse again. You had reception yesterday. A knock makes you jump and you see Steve in the doorway, eyebrows knitted in concern. You could have sworn you had locked the door when you came back in.

“You ok doll?”

You always hated when he called you that.

“My car won’t start and my phone doesn’t have reception.”

“You want a ride to town?”

You eye Steve wearily.

“Do you think I’m going to kidnap you or something? I could do that right now if that’s what I wanted to do.”

He looks at you like he might pounce at any second. You can tell that’s exactly what he wants to do and the thought of him kidnapping you makes you want to lock yourself away. You’re in a tight spot though and don’t know what else to do.

“Ok, thanks Steve.”

You get in Steve’s truck and he drives you to a mechanic. He puts his right arm on the back of your seat casually, brushing his hand over your hair. the action is purposeful and you both know it.

“Did the cult, uh, leave a dead rat on my doorstep?”

Steve scrunches his face in disgust.

“Um, no we didn’t.”

You look out the window, not totally convinced Steve is telling the truth but also not sure that he’s lying. You never experienced any of the cults rituals as only married adults were allowed to do them. You have no idea if the dead rat is a cult thing or not but can’t really think of any other reason for the events of the evening prior.

You park at the mechanics and get out. It looks the same as when you were a kid. you remember running around playing hide and seek with other children in the woods nearby, coming over for a soda after an afternoon of playing.

“Y/N, long time no see.”

You smile sweetly at the mechanic, Mr. Stark.

“My car isn’t starting and I need to leave tonight.”

“Soonest I can come look at it is tomorrow sweetheart.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet but nod. One more night won’t hurt. Steve drives you back to your cabin and walks you to the door. He leans over, placing his shoulder beside the door and looking at you. You refuse to make eye contact and unlock the door, opening it and walking in.

“Thanks for the ride.” you say, shutting the door and locking it.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve yells through the door. You hear him whistling as he walks to his truck and you watch though the window as he drives away.

---

That evening you sit at the kitchen table, hugging your knees and biting your nails. As soon as you hear any noise you stand up and open the front door confidently.

“Go away!” You yell to the empty yard.

You slam the door and lock it, moving to the window to look out. Shadows move through the woods but you can’t make out any defined shapes.

You find a baseball bat in the closet and check all of the doors and windows once more before getting in bed. You fall asleep cuddling the bat.

Half way through the night you hear whispering outside your window. It doesn’t sound like talking, more like chanting. You clutch onto the bat and sit up in bed waiting. There’s rustling outside and then suddenly banging on all sides of the cabin. You cry, holding onto the bat for dear life like it can save you. The banging stops as suddenly as it started and the cabin becomes eerily quiet. You run to the window and pull the curtain back but nothing’s there. The rest of the night is spent awake and shaking. You’re not sure if they’re just trying to scare you or do something more nefarious. You’re not going to wait to find out. Tomorrow you’re leaving and never coming back, if you stay here any longer you may never leave again.

---

Mr. Stark drives up around noon and you meet him outside. He takes a look at your car and you sit on the porch watching.

“I need to order a special part.” He yells and you walk to him.

“I can’t stay here any longer.”

“It’ll be in tomorrow and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

You’re stuck. Panic starts rising in you but you push it down. One more night. As soon as your car is fixed you’re getting in and leaving. You don’t care anymore about finishing work on the cabin. You’ll sell it as it, heck give it away. You’re sure the cult will take it.

Mr. Stark gets in his truck and drives away. You spend the rest of the evening working in the cabin, sorting and boxing things. You’re just trying to pass time by at this point and not actually trying to finish everything you originally wanted to.

You check all of the windows and doors obsessively. They’re always locked but that voice in your head tells you to check again and again. As the sun sets, your anxiety rises, finally falling asleep out of pure exhaustion.

“Y/N”

You jolt awake to find Steve standing over your bed.

“What the fuck are you doing here Steve?”

“I won’t tolerate that language once we’re married.”

“Get out!”

“It’s our wedding night Doll.”

Steve reaches out to grab your arm and you pull away, falling out of the bed and scrambling up. Steve looks like a monster in the dark. His tall frame blocks the light coming from the window, blurring most of his features. The only thing you see aside from his outline are his eyes. They glow in the dark, ethereal and terrifying. You run past him and out the door. The woods are familiar, having played in them all growing up and you take a well worn path. You hear Steve calling after you.

“You can’t fight this. We’re soulmates.”

You keep running and crouch down behind a fallen tree. You peak your head over to look back toward the house and see a white figure walking towards you. You stand again and run only to see another ghost like person. Every time you turn in another direction someone is there, walking slowly towards you. You’re surrounded and soon you’re standing in the middle of a circle of people, dressed in white cloaks. You kneel down, tears streaming down your face. Steve breaks the circle and walks toward you, needle in his hand. He sticks it into you and your eye’s flutter before closing.

---

When you wake up you’re strapped to a large stone slab. Memories come back of being told over and over never to touch it, never come near it. It feels wrong to be strapped onto it now and you wiggle trying to get away. you look down and see that you’re wearing matching clothing to everyone else. How long have you been out? It’s dark outside so you assume it’s the same night. Everything is fuzzy and you look around at the people’s unintelligible faces.

“Steve, do you promise to love, to care for, and to control Y/N” You recognize the voice as an elder of the cult.

“I do.” Steve speaks clearly and you perceive a hint of pride in his speech, like he knows he’s won.

The elder brings a knife to your hand, making a small cut, doing the same to Steve. Your head becomes more and more clear and you pull on the restraints.

“You may kiss your bride.”

“No!” You yell before Steve’s lips cover yours.

When he finally pulls away you yell at him again.

“Leave me the fuck alone Steve, you have no right.”

Steve ignores your cries, undoing your restraints. You try to fight against him but he leans over and whispers in your ear.

“It’s done Y/N, your mine. Do you really want me to punish you now in front of all these people? You know I will.”

You still long enough for him to carry you to his cabin. You’ve never been here before, have never wanted to be here. He sets you on the bed and you back into the headboard.

“Let me go Steve.”

“It’s done now Doll, you can’t leave ever. I own you.”

“You don’t own me Steve, none of it is real. It’s a cult. I’ll run away the first moment I can.”

Steve's eyes darken and he stalks toward you. You roll off the bed and try to run making it out the door but fall as soon as you hit the treeline. It feels like something is stabbing your chest and you cry out in pain. Steve slowly walks toward you, letting out a displeased sigh before picking you up. The pain disappears as soon as you’re in his arms.

“It’s ok doll, You’ve just gotten false teachings in your head but you’ve been brought back to me like it’s always meant to be. I’m here to help you learn your place. Soon you won’t even be thinking about leaving.”

“This can’t be happening.”

Steve gives you a look of pure joy.

“Oh, trust me it is.”

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x you #dark!fic #TansySpookyChallenge2020

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moon-caramel · 3 years

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Never been lucky

❣ Request by @trishavolution21

I would love to request a Jooheon angst that turns into romance with Gangster themes. He and his GF are a happy and sweet couple in the morning and at night they fight against each other with a different identity not knowing it. When their identities exposed they kiss each other passionately in the end ❤ (No NSFW)

→ Pairing: Jooheon x reader ♀

→ Summary: no matter how much you love your man finding out his true job would make you fall badly

→ Gendre: Gangster au. // Angst ⚔

→ Warnings: Mafia topic, use of alcohol, broken heart

→ Word count: 1,6 k

→ a/n: I owed this a long time to trishavolution21 sorry it took this long 😭

The soft sunlight from your window was enough to wake you, but the warm from the light was not bigger than the body next to yours. You smile unconsciously, he’s always here when you wake up, turning your body around to face the man you love, Lee Jooheon, he’s wrapping you in his arms, no intention to let you go.You’ve never being lucky, ever since your birth when your mother couldn't handle the birth labor, at the age of six you saw your first bullet, one that was one that was aimed to your head, and could have hit you if that body guard wouldn't have been fast enough, at eight you were sent to boarding school, far from your family and friends, and thrown to strangers for your safety.

But one day without planning you run into Jooheon, a sweet guy you're still thankful he's always here when you wake up.

“Wake up honey” you whisper softly.

He mumbles like a child five more minutes, and hides his face in the space between your shoulder and neck.“Come on, you told me to wake you up early, that you had something important in the morning” You can understand his mumbling this time, the vibrations of his words in your skin make you giggle “how about I make you pancakes”Usually you would make him stay in bed, not letting him go, but you had important things to do as well, a few seconds of Jooheon processing your delicious pancakes his head pops out, by the look in his face he could be still sleeping.“mm.. okay, I want pancakes” he slowly leaves your bed and goes to the bathroom. You leave a second after to go to the kitchen, and prepare the best (and only) breakfast you know, you are sure they’re not that good but if Jooheon saids they are you’ll take his words. ● Almost nine in the morning, you still have time to kill, but Jooheon already leave half and hour ago, and your apartment feels so empty without him, you start getting ready, like always before you go, you're stop to think if you should carry the gun your father gave you, he was always a busy man, the day he spend teaching you how to use it was the longest time he spend with you. A compact revolver, comfortable for your hand but still powerful if you had a good shot (which you have). The meeting is about the family business, you better take it for this time. You send a text to your brother letting him know you’re on your way.

8:46 am - Y/N: on my way, 10 min. at least.

8:47 am - Kihyun: Use the bakery entry, rats in the front

Your family has a small building, using it to have meetings and planifications, the base of the operations, is located in the center of the city and one of the risk is having people prowling, cops, special agents or adversary.

That why your brother made different entrance around the block, a bakery, bookstore and a gallery. A good idea given that leaves the seekers confuse.

Using the bakery as your entrance was no problem, the problem was try to fight the tempting smell of the fresh cinnamon rolls.

●

“We have a problem,” Kihyun said casually, directly, he hated this type of meeting, reviewing plans or catching up on topics that never changed, except this time.

“Apparently our adversary has found a way to steal our products and walk off like nothing..” You could see the wrath in your brother, clenching his fists leaving white knuckles, and he was right “Obviosly someone is not doing his job keeping the competition away, I don’t understand how beiung this susch a easy fucking job”

His eyes roam in everyone present, looking for someone to take responsibility, no one's gonna take it, no one wants to deal with Kihyun discipline

“We need to plan a way to get rid of those idiots” You speak breaking the silent, but that didn’t free you from the eyes of your brother you better explain why you are interrupting me, “we don't have time to look for the responsible, we can do that after eliminate our competition, something else is a waste of time.”

It takes time, you all agree the best way to get rid of whoever steals your products is set them up, the new products coming tomorrow night in the port, it's a risk but is the only way to keep them away, kill them if possible.

After a lot of arguing Kihyun let you be in charge of the job, despite being the miserable boss he was your brother and he wants you safe, but you are just as stubborn

●

A new day, the same light waking you up, and the body of your boyfriend next to you, he manages to look cute even with his eyebrows knitted, you feel so good looking at the man you love you can forget what was going to happen today.

You wish you could tell him the truth, tell him how nervous you are, he would calm you and tell you there's no reason, because you're gonna to do great. One day you might be, but for now you just want to enjoy this time, the honeymoon phase, you’re also scared of his reaction, what if he can’t accept this part of you. He’s too good for you, you think, he’s so sweet, so gentle. Can he love your dark side? ● “Hyungwon, eyes in the shipment. Shownu, if you see someone unknown let it know” “copied” Shownu answers you from the radio. “Yes boss” Hyungwon's voice comes tiring, but you can still sense the mockery tone in it, even if you laugh you’ll make sure to nag him about it. It’s time, this night is a special reception for your weapon, whoever is stealing the load, might do it tonight, and you are ready from a high space, you can see your men clearly, some being themself and others covered as working men. It’s all quiet, you can hear the conversation from the radio, Hyungwon talking to the supplier, checking if everything is in order, you can’t focus on that, you look around still finding nothing, are they not coming to you? the only way this would work out is let them fall in your trap. Before you can feel anxious about it shownu voice come in the radio “____, The men in the truck!, Is them! ● As soon as you step inside your apartment your tears fall out, you need a drink, something strong, there’s no time for a glass. How did this happen? When you remember shownu’s voice coming from the radio, some men in a truck drove to hyungwon and the group, pointing their guns at them, while they were stealing the bags of fire guns shownu start shooting from behind, shownu on their back hyungwon in the front, it started easy, it was going good until you see their backup team jumping out from other truck. Two men, you can take them easy, until one notices your presence, and your face, your body freezes as soon you see his, her round cheeks and deep eyes. “joo.. Jooheon?” your voice is tearing, as your eyes. But there’s no time for that, you are in the middle of a shooting, and the sound of the bullets remind you of that. “Get it together” you speak to yourself, if what you saw is real it changes nothing, this is your mission, your family, you have to make a choice. And so it happens, once those men leave, carrying their wounded on their arms, you see him again, he looks back for the same reason you look, it was really you, all this time you both have been fighting each other while sleeping in the same bed. Did he know? Was he sleeping with you to get information? no it can’t be. It can’t be, right? Your mind torments to think about this, you want to convince yourself this was his plan, you should hate him, right? he's the enemy. But you love him, there’s no doubt about it, your heart would hurt this bad if you didn’t, does he love you too? is his heart in pain like yours? You don’t know how long you’ve been thinking about it until the knock on the door stops you. Is it?.. “____?” Is him, but you can’t answer. Is he here to kill you? “____, please” No, his voice is so weak, and hurt, it hurts you, a part of you don’t want him to suffer. As you get closer to the door he can see the shadow in the bottom of it. “I didn’t know, ____, I don't want to hurt you” “Jo..Jooheon, this..” you both communicate through the door “I know, this, this makes it difficult” “I’m sorry” you cry, the door is not that thick, he can clearly hear your weeping, breaking his heart. “I love you ____, I’ll always love you” I love you too, you want to say , not because he’s your enemy, because this could be the end of your story, somehow it is more painful than a bullet. Your hand moves, opening the door, he didn’t expect you to do that, he was sure this would be his end, but your eyes begged him to stay. You were expecting him to set you up, pointing a gun at you, not his eyes tearing for you. None second left, and with no words needed your lips meet his, this will kill you both, this is the death you were expecting from each other, because you both rather die from your love than live without each other, and because you’ve never been lucky anyways.

→ a/n: Again I’m really sorry for this request to take this long, I hope it’s up to your expectation. Let me know what do think of the cover for this story

↳ MONSTA X master list

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#monsta x jooheon #monsta x requests #monsta x x reader #mx jooheon #mx joohoney #jooheon x reader #joohoney #joohoney x reader #kpop x reader #monsta x angst #mafia au #Fanfic Request #kpop requests

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banashee · 3 years

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Part 6/25 of my @badthingshappenbingo round 2

Prompt: Denied food as a punishment

This is also Part 1 of a new series: “Like a ghost in the back of my mind”

please mind the tags and warnings!

A growing emptiness

A big part of his childhood, Clint spends either hungry or worrying about food.

He learns early on to take food whenever possible, because the likelihood of there not being any later is high. Most of the time, it’s due to poverty. This is often paired with his father (or later, other caretakers) spending money on booze rather than food. Satisfying their own needs instead of feeding the kids. Sadly, he is used to it and so he learns to eat whenever possible, whatever he can get his hands on any. Clint isn’t picky at all.

He’ll eat something even though it may be off. Clint has scraped mold off of bread more than once, forced himself to choke down something he doesn’t like at all, because it’s still better than nothing.

Sometimes, when things get bad, he’ll steal food.

He is ashamed of it, but not enough to stop. Running from someone who is angry he took some sort of fruit or vegetable from their garden is much preferred to digging through a trashcan. He does that, too. Some days, he’s got no other choice, especially if he managed to piss off Duquesne or Chisholm and they decide to cut him off.

“Pissing them off” can mean many things, and as much as Clint can be sassy or big mouthed when he wants to, more often than not, it’s not even anything he said.

He might not train hard enough to their liking, he might fail because he is sick or distracted. Any number of things that are out of his control.

Sometimes, they just feel like it. “You owe us your life” they’ll say, or “I decide if you’ll eat or not. Today you won’t.”

Clint gets used to this, too. It is one of the biggest reasons he’ll hoard food whenever he can get any. Occasionally, Barney or Chisholm will find it, and then all hell breaks loose, leading to more yelling, more bruises, more cuts or broken bones.

He is more careful after that. Clint also gets used to ignoring hunger - he’s been used to it long before, but living the way he does only makes it worse.

It’s not until much, much later when Clint is an adult and with SHIELD that he realizes just how fucked up his upbringing really was.

Yes, it hurt, and yes it sucked, in countless different ways. But he never knew anything else back then.

The thing is, if it happened to anyone else, he’d have started a riot for their cause. But him? That’s just how things are and better deal with it he kept telling himself.

Now, that Clint is older and out of this environment, he has learned that, despite his experiences, not all people are bad.

There are people who love and support him, people who see more in him than someone who is worth something because of his skillset. People who see him as a friend because of him, and not what he can do.

Until he gets there, it is a long way.

Clint doesn’t trust anyone, avoids personal interactions whenever possible. It’s easier to protect himself that way. The one exception is Agent Phil Coulson, who has recruited him - that is, he pulled him out of a shithole and offered a new job, a new life. Him being his assigned handler helps, too. No one else wants to deal with him, and he’s okay with that.

He’ll do his job and do whatever is asked of him, but he doesn’t want anyone around him, really. People mean risk means attack means loss of control.

Never again.

Apart from the obvious, working with SHIELD also means a lot more freedom than he had before. Sure, he’d spent 3 years on the streets and working highly illegal jobs, but he really doesn’t count “on the run” as freedom. The army, circus or foster care don’t come anywhere near that word and neither does any other part of his childhood.

Now, he has legal work with times and places to be when it’s ordered, but he’s got a place to go back to, a bed to sleep in and a cafeteria that’s open 24/7.

If he is being honest, that last part is kind of overwhelming. Especially in the first days and weeks, he expects the access to it to be revoked at any time, to find the doors closed some day. It never happens, but it doesn’t stop him from squirreling more bread rolls and packets of chips for later into his pockets. No one notices, or if they do, no one calls him out of it. It is as good as permission as it gets.

The thing is: Clint is used to starvation. He never really had regular meals, it was always eat whatever you can, how much you can and then hide more for bad times. Sometimes, that meant 6000 calories in one day and a few granola bars over the course of the next week.

It’s a pattern he is used to, and as such, his visits to the cafeteria are few and far between, but he does pack away more than most when he is there.

Clint doesn’t think anyone would care enough to notice.

He is wrong.

Clint has been with SHIELD for several months when Phil Coulson approaches him after a meeting. There are other Agents present, so he simply tells him, “Barton, a word please.” while walking past, trusting that he’ll follow him. He does.

When the door to Coulson’s office closes behind then, Clint asks,

“What’s up, boss?”

“Sit, please. This isn’t strictly work-related, but it worries me.” Phil knows he needs to be careful how he approaches this situation, because Barton doesn’t trust most people. He does, however, trust him, which is half the reason he is talking to his asset about this when most would have booked him an appointment with psych with no questions asked. In this case, it would be a sure way to lose whatever trust Barton managed to build in the past few months since he joined the organisation.

Clint sits down on the chair across from Coulson, frowning. He isn’t sure where this is going, and he hates that.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, waiting for more explanation.

Coulson speaks deliberately, keeping his body language open. The last thing he wants is for this to come across as accusatory.

“It’s something I noticed, and to be honest, I think you need help. Ever since you joined us, I’ve never seen you eat anything for more than a few times a week. Let alone multiple times a day. Not here or when we are out on missions…”

A deep flush creeps up Barton's neck. He isn��t angry, which surprises him. But he is deeply embarrassed that someone noticed his patterns.

“Oh.” he says, and stays silent for a bit. Thankfully, Coulson lets him, waits for him to say anything else.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Except, it isn’t fine.

It’s never affected his work before, but things get stressful and then, a mission goes to shit in all the wrong ways.

The circumstances are out of anyone's control, but when it gets down to it, people die and Clint, who has a bullet stuck in his shoulder, can’t react fast enough to save them all.

He finally gets a clear shot and with pain shooting through him, he manages to bring down the men who shot a group of civilians and two of their agents just seconds before, saving the remaining people. Unfortunately, they can’t do anything to help either their two agents or the family that was captured by them. One teenanger, a toddler and two adults. All of them are dead.

He failed.

Cold dread and nausea rise in Clint, and he manages to find an empty corner of the rooftop he is perched on before he is sick all over the place.

He is dry heaving while the Senior Agent whose name he keeps forgetting yammers into the commlink, causing it to blow out with certain tones that are painful despite his already shitty hearing. The sensation makes it all worse, but Clint can’t talk, choking and coughing still, when suddenly, his private channel to Coulson crackles to life.

It’s always in place, no matter what. Clint doesn’t trust anyone else like he trusts Coulson, and he appreciates him looking out for him that way. He is always more comfortable, when he knows that there is a line of communication open with him.

“Barton, status report. Talk to me.”

Clint chokes on air and stomach fluid again - there isn’t anything but water that he could throw up, but his body is reacting violently. There is blood, dripping from his shoulder and soaked uniform onto the floor. As much as he wants to say anything, he can’t.

“Stay put, I’m coming.”

With the other Senior Agent still yelling over the comms, with the pain, guilt and panic in his chest and dizziness in his head, Clint can’t focus on anything. He collapses on the floor, uncaring whether or not he lands in the mess, gasping for air and trying to get a grip on himself.

Then, Coulson appears by his side. He faintly notices that he is talking to him, but he can’t make out his words. He is too far gone, and then he starts to black out. Part of Clint is glad that he can blame the tears in his eyes on pain from his bullet wound and the fact that he’s spent the last few minutes throwing up violently, but even in his sorry state, he knows he’s fucked up.

When Clint wakes up, he does so in a hospital bed, drugged with pain medication. He hates it immediately, because hospitals, in his experience, are one of the unsafest places one could ever be in. He’s forced to stay in bed, hooked up to machines or IV lines, people know where he is and who he is and there is no way of defending himself in this state.

His heartbeat speeding up and breathing gets hard. Before he can do anything else, a warm hand is placed onto his arm, and it takes Clint a while to realize that it’s Coulson, who is talking to him, trying to help and he doesn’t leave.

Clint is too out of it to say or do anything about it. After a while, he falls back asleep.

He doesn’t eat.

The nurses pick up full trays every time, and they, along with the doctors and most of all, Coulson, express their concern.

“I’m not hungry.” he insists every time, and gets more irritated with every attempt to talk about this.

It must be a trick - Clint knows he fucked up, people died because of him. There is no reason he should eat - if he tries to take anything, things will get so much worse, and in his current state, he would be unable to defend himself. Better not risk it - he isn’t going to eat.

At this point, Clint isn’t even half aware of how wrong this mindset is, and just how much damage was done to him over the years to believe all of those things. Another reason for this, that only occured recently: it is his way to stay in control over himself. No one can force him to eat, and no one can take it away from him.

He is the one in control, even when he loses weight quicker than ever.

Medical wants to keep him there, not because his injuries would demand it, but because he isn’t taking anything but liquids.

Clint disagrees - he is fine, he insists, and takes the next opportunity to bolt when it presents itself.

He hides out in his bathroom, doors locked, sitting on the cold tile floor and shaking apart.

He is overwhelmed, anxious with guilt, nauseous from hunger and crying soundlessly out of sheer habit. It doesn't matter - there is no one around to watch him.

Part of him is angry and disappointed with himself - being with SHIELD was the best chance he’s ever had, and he messed up after such a short amount of time. The aftermath sure doesn’t help, and all he wants is to get away. It might be less painful than being kicked out.

He doesn’t know what to do, so Clint just keeps hiding until there is somebody at his front door, knocking intently. He curses it, but eventually drags himself to the door and opens - he knows he can’t escape forever.

To his surprise, he isn’t faced with an entire team of agents to be hauled away. The only person there is his handler, and Phil Coulson looks more worried than anything else. His frown only deepens when he sees Clint.

To be fair, he really doesn’t look good at all. He’s lost a lot of weight, hasn’t slept and is holding onto sanity with his bare teeth at this point.

“Hi Boss. You here to kick me out?” he rasps, and the look he gets in response is puzzled.

“No, of course not. May I come in?”

Clint steps aside, letting him in. He doesn’t look back while shuffling to the living room, and it is clear that his shoulder is still giving him trouble. Despite his best attempts to hide it, it is obvious to Phil, who is close behind him.

Once they’re sitting down, Clint remains silent. He is fidgeting with the fabric of a throw blanket, waiting for Coulson to talk - if he isn’t here to kick him out of SHIELD, he really doesn’t know why he would bother to come.

“To be honest, Barton, I’m not entirely sure what is happening. But something isn’t right, and I hope that we can find a solution.”

It’s all he can do to nod. He is exhausted and besides, he doesn’t know what he could say, either.

Coulson continues, “The last mission…” but Clint pales at the thought of it and he can’t stop himself from blurting out,

“I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. Wasn’t fast enough... Six people died...“

“You got hurt.” Phil replies, looking over to the couch where his asset is slowly shrinking into himself. Shit. He really must have underestimated this young man’s state of mind. Carefully, he continues.

“None of this is your fault - did you think we would blame you for the outcome?”

This seems to genuinely confuse him. “Uh - yes?”

Slowly shaking his head, Phil replies,

“No. Sometimes, things just go wrong and there is nothing we can do about it, except our best. You were injured, which you reported, and you still managed to save five other people. This is more than we could have hoped for. You did a good job out there, especially under the circumstances.”

“...Right.” It doesn’t sound like Clint believes it. He doesn’t have a reason to - nothing he knows or lived through would have indicated that something like this wasn’t to be blamed on anyone - probably him.

“I understand that this is hard. We have mental health professionals to help with that sort of thing, and I think it would be of benefit for you to talk to them.”

Clint remains silent - he doesn’t trust them. He has talked to them, right after joining the organisation - it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Giving away any kind of personal information makes him want to crawl out of his skin and hide somewhere. People knowing details about him is a dangerous thing, and as much as they’d needled and pushed, Clint managed to keep quite a bit to himself still. He is ridiculously proud of that.

Right now though, he is tired. So very tired.

“I don’t trust them.” he confesses silently.

Phil nods slowly. He figured as much, understands even - he, too, isn’t too keen on sharing certain issues. But it is a well needed support system that exists for good reason. This is what he says, surprising both himself and Barton with his words, but truth be told, this is everything but a professional conversation. He wants to help, not just because Clint is his asset - he cares, on a personal level. Phil cares for all agents, especially the ones assigned to him.

But something in this young man in front of him brings out his protective streak. It doesn’t matter that Barton is well trained in armed and unarmed combat, amongst other skillsets. He is 22 years old and as far as Coulson can tell, he’s never had a single soul he could trust or rely on in his life and he is determined to change that.

“Medical say they’re concerned about you coping. And so am I. Have been for a while, actually.”

It is clear that Phil refers to their conversation in his office a little while back. Clint sighs heavily.

“I’m not very good at it right now.”

He is beyond exhausted at this point, or he wouldn’t have opened up at all. As sad as it may be, but his handler is the only person who hasn’t fucked him over yet. He really hopes it stays that way.

“It’s just that, I’m used to things going certain ways.” Clint explains, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he suddenly finds himself talking about the circus.

He is talking about food and shelter constantly being held over his head and how he eventually started to take back control in the only way he knew how. He is talking about starving and binge eating on purpose at first, and later out of sheer habit. Clint talks about the way the latest mission specifically triggered all of this, and he is pathetically proud of himself for being able to keep his emotions in check the entire time. It’s hard, harder than usual - but he is sharing so much already. He can’t do more.

Phil is listening to him without a word, careful to keep his face even. On the outside, he is calm and collected, but the more he listens, the more furious he gets. There is no other way to say it. Seething anger boils in him, directed at every single person responsible for years of abuse and mistreatment of a child who grew up to be a damaged adult, still doing his best and thinking it isn’t enough.

For how long he is talking, Clint wouldn't be able to tell. But once he is done, the room is completely silent and he is staring at a stain on the table - it’s easier than facing the fact that he just told all of these things to another human being. As much as it scares him, it may be just the right thing to do.

Staring ahead and keeping his breathing as calm as possible is all he can do for now. But maybe, some day, he might be ready to accept help.

*+~

Warnings:

- Past Child Abuse - Food issues - Eating Disorder - Starvation - Denied food as punishment - Food hoardig - Dealing with related past trauma, PTSD - Death, dying children (non-graphic) - Vomiting - Blood and injury, gun wounds

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #bad things happen bingo #whump #hurt/comfort #angst #tw food issues #tw eating disorders #tw ed #tw child abuse #tw trauma #tw violence #tw death #tw vomit

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rosethesongbird · 4 years

Text

Lady of the Lake Chapter II

Thanks all, for the love/likes/reblogs on Chapter I. You can read that aforementioned Chapter I here.

If anyone has any suggestions for a title for this story, I’d love to hear them.

-R

Epione rose from her place at the side of the bed.

“Well, that’s that,” she said, using the last clean rag to wipe her face. “Do you plan to stay the night with us, Witcher?”

“Not like I have a choice,” said Geralt, still focused on the smaller man asleep in the bed.

“Of course you do,” said Epione, chuckling. “You just wouldn’t take it for anything else in the world.”

Geralt turned to look at her, silently, his jaw set. She was hanging her apron, facing away from him. She was making herself vulnerable. She was not afraid. It was almost annoying to see, due to the fact that every nerve in his body was still screaming, his friend was in danger, and he just let a complete stranger cut him, on purpose.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said. “Although, it’s not the first time I’ve had daggers stared into my back. You just aren’t used to being read so easily. But that’s alright,” she turned to face him, stoking her fireplace. “I won’t tell a soul.” She smiled.

“Hm.”

“Well, since you’re staying the night, you can choose your bed,” she said. “I usually sleep in the bed upstairs, it’s yours if you want it. I’ll be waking up every hour and a half or so to wake him, as counterproductive as that may seem, so I’ll sleep here. Of course, you can always choose to sleep down here with us, if you’d like.” She removed her overdress, revealing a simple cotton chemise. Her braid seemed to uncoil itself from the bun, reaching halfway down her back. “I will warn you, though, you’ll get more rest upstairs. And you look like you need it.”

Geralt turned back to Jaskier, his hand now resting on the man’s chest. He felt like if he moved, Jaskier may stop breathing. But he was exhausted. The last hunt had not been kind to him, and this whole…situation came immediately after.

“I…don’t get much sleep even on my best days,” he said, his voice coming out much more callous than his heart felt.

“Well, tomorrow, we will go down to the Pool,” said the small woman, now sitting next to him. She cautiously placed her hand on his knee. “The waters are enchanted, and can assist with many things, insomnia included. They should speed up the healing process. He’ll still have to stay here for…well, three or four days to be safe,” she leaned down, turning her head until she was pushing her way in to Geralt’s line of sight. “For which I’m guessing I’ll have not one guest, but two,” she said, smirking.

“I suppose so,” he said, rising. “I’m going to check on Roach.”

“I feel like a horse so beautiful should have a more beautiful name,” said Epione. “Would you mind refilling this?” she handed him the bucket, full of water now filthy with blood and remnants of infection. “Oh, and,” she opened the cabinet, removing a small lump of sugar from a bag. “Give this to…Roach, and tell her she’s a very good girl,”

Geralt smirked. She had no idea how good Roach really was.

After updating Roach on the night’s events, he returned with the clean bucket.

The girl was already asleep.

Jaskier’s bed had been fortified with more strategically placed pillows than Geralt could count, and the girl slept with a single pillow and small blanket on a cot next to the bed.

There was a third cot, empty, with an extra pillow and blanket folded neatly on top of it, and a note. The note was written in neat, yet blocky script. She must usually write in runes.

Witcher, Geralt of Rivia-

Thank you for your dutiful assistance to me and my patient. I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say it is greatly appreciated.

Please, feel free to help yourself to the pantry, and adjust the fire to your liking. And expect a fresh, hot, homemade breakfast in the morning. It’s my pleasure.

-E

P.S. Please consider joining us in the Pool tomorrow. I think you will find it worthwhile.

—

Geralt jolted awake to the sound of a choked sob.

“Breathe, sweetheart,”

The girl was already awake. A few strands of hair had fallen out of her braid during the night. The fire was smoldering, and the first light of dawn was coming in the window. He had to reluctantly admit to himself that the girl was right. He was exhausted. He had expected to wake every time she had risen, and instead had abandoned his companion by sleeping through the night.

“I can’t, I can’t,” said Jaskier, wheezing, lips blue, face wet with tears. “I’m dying,”

“You aren’t dying, songbird. I promise. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“What’s going on?”

“The infection spread to his chest before I could treat it,” said Epione, eyes bright despite the early hour. “Here, watch him for a minute,” she hopped off her cot, barefoot, nearly gliding over to the cupboard of medicines. “I can fix this but it’ll take me a moment. Oh, good morning, by the way.”

“Yeah, what a great way to wake up, very…relaxing,” Geralt said, moving to the bard’s bedside.

Epione scoffed. “Don’t take this out on me, Witcher,” her speech was muffled, a vial of herbs in her hand and the cork in her mouth. “It helps not a single one of us, and especially not him.”

“Sorry, I just…Fuck. Nevermind.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier broke into a fit of coughing. Wet coughing. Epione tossed a rag on Geralt’s cot. Blood began seeping from Jaskier’s parted lips. His face was so pale it almost appeared gray.

“Hey, uh… you’re going to be fine,” said the witcher. This felt so…tender. He owed it to Jaskier, for all the times he had insisted on patching up Geralt after a rough fight, or a rougher break-up. He realized that he was wiping the blood from his lips, and gripping his hand. The gesture came naturally, seemingly from a part of Geralt’s heart he didn’t himself have access to. Jaskier was shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. He was gasping for breath.

“I thought… I was dreaming,” he said, throat seized, with fear or with sickness; Geralt didn’t know.

“What did you dream?”

“Geralt of Rivia caring to hear my dream,” Jaskier laid back into the pillow. “Now I know it is a dream,” he laughed, a humorless laugh, that swiftly became another coughing fit.

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt growled. “Stay awake, this is real,” his piercing golden eyes trained on the soft blue ones before him, feeling like if he looked long enough it would keep the other man from falling asleep again.

“I was dreaming, that…” the blue eyes closed in a grimace of pain. An arched back. A keening whine. “…There was, this woman, and I was so afraid, but when I looked at her, it was like I knew, everything was okay,” the eyes opened, soft, raspy speech broken by heaving, rattling breaths. “It felt like, she was,” the eyes closed again, seeking for a word.

“An angel?” said Epione, appearing at Geralt’s side, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Drink, love,” she tipped a glass to his lips. “Drink and rest.” Her other hand moved Geralt’s to the glass. She met eyes with him. The soft green communicated “I know, and I care.”

Not a sentiment Geralt was used to meeting.

—

Upon finishing the drink, Jaskier immediately calmed, apparently content with doing nothing but staring half-lidded at the ceiling. He was moving his lips, but no sound came out, and it didn’t seem concerning to him, so it wasn’t concerning to Geralt.

He leaned back onto the cot, training his ears to the sound of the bard’s breathing slowing down and evening out. He tried to calm himself enough to sense more than his own uncharacteristically quick heartbeat.

The scent of the fireplace, glowing, complimented by the scent of many loaves of bread long past.

Jaskier’s scent, flowery, sullied by illness and weakened by blood loss, but his.

And a third scent, like salty seawater, and something else. Something hard, unyielding, but natural.

The girl sighed and sat on his cot. The smell was seawater and granite, eroding, beaten over and over by eons of tides.

“Some say it’s because we are from Sirens,” she said, unprompted. She had put on her overdress, and the braid was back in its conservative bun.

“What?”

“Everything. Our smell, our lake, our eyes,” The light of the rising sun made her skin appear as orange as her hair. “The women in my family have tended this place for centuries. Legend has it that whatever in our blood that isn’t human is from a Siren. A long time ago, Sirens and men got along.”

She rose from the cot. “But, you know that already, don’t you.” Another sigh, when Geralt didn’t respond, thinking.

“Fresh eggs for breakfast? How does that sound? I’m sure the chickens have laid something,”

“Fine,” said Geralt.

The healer began to pull on her leather shoes and leave.

“Epione?” she turned with a questioning look. “Thank you,” said Geralt. “What…payment…will you require?”

“Your thanks is enough,” she said, her lips pursed in a suppressed smile. “Coin is only good for the good it can do.”

The door closed behind her, and Geralt and Jaskier were alone.

—

Jaskier’s voice rose to a whisper. Geralt was about to shush him, try to get him to rest, when he realized what he was saying.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool

Better stay out of sight

“She’s missing verse two, Jaskier, she left,” said Geralt, quietly. He put his hand on his companion’s cheek. “You’ll have to sing it for her when she comes back,”

Jaskier’s eyes shut tightly. His voice rose even more, cracked, raspy, disused, but audible.

I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting

A tear tracked its way down his cheek, pallid, soft.

If this is the path I must trudge

I welcome my sentence

Give to you my penance

Garrotter, jury, and judge

Epione cracked open the door slowly, basket of eggs in tow. She began humming softly, along with Jaskier’s lyrics; soft dulcet tones despite recent trauma. Geralt closed his eyes, taking in the scene, comfortably…domestic.

The song was broken up by the sound of an egg suddenly sizzling on a hot pan.

—

“Eat, Geralt,” said the woman, pushing a plate of eggs into his hands. “I have some soup for our ‘invalid,’ if he wakes before it’s time to venture out,” she smiled.

“Was I asleep?” Geralt rubbed his eyes. Jaskier was mostly still, except for the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“I think so,” she said. “Either that or lost in thought, maybe.”

Jaskier stirred, groaning. His eyes shut tight before opening, clearing the remnants of sleep.

“Hey, Jaskier,” said Geralt. “How are you feeling?”

He thought for a moment. His brow furrowed. “Like shit,” he said. Across the room, Epione let out the purest laugh Geralt had heard since they had met mere hours earlier.

“Welcome back,” he said, smiling.

He tried to rise, sucking in air and clutching his right side. “Owww, Geralt,” he whined. “What did you do?”

“What did I do? How is this my fault, bard?” He shook his head, already exasperated. It was an odd feeling, to be happy that you are annoyed.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just that whenever something is deeply wrong with me, it has something to do with this guy I can’t stop hanging out with that has this whole ‘monster fighting’ thing going on,” said Jaskier, shaking hands gesturing to the best of their ability.

“You can blame it on me, songbird,” said Epione. “I’m sure your witcher would have stopped me if he had any other choice.” She sat down with the wooden bowl, half full of broth.

“Well hello there, fair lady,” he said. “Do we know each other?”

“I’ve seen your insides, so I suppose so,” she said with a smirk, holding the spoon to his lips. “Now hush and let the grown-ups talk, my dear,” she chuckled.

Jaskier opened his mouth in protest, only to be met with a mouthful of broth.

Chapter III here!

#fic #fanfic #the witcher #jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia #whump #jaskier whump #hurt/comfort #oc warning #chapter 3 will probably come in a few days #quarantine writing #this started as an excuse to whump jaskier but now i’m enjoying writing geralt #my writing

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42wallaby-way-sydney · 4 years

Text

@gangstertogangster so since we’re on a glee kick for the OCs, I figure now is about as good a time as any just to have more things that totally get said during domestic au lines.

Yelena: Veruchka that isn't how babies happen. Nika: Uh huh! You and mama are both girls and you have me! Yelena, eyes widening, sweats: ... Nika: Hey how did that happen anyway? Where do babies come from? Yelena, driving faster: Ask your mother. Nika: But you are my mother? Yelena: Ask your other mother! ~oOo~ Michael: Look, alcohol is an answer to any problem. It’s not always the best answer but it is an answer. So pass me my wine or not even God himself will be able to save you, Raphael! ~oOo~ Vasya: Nah, my Aunt Shauna loves Olive Garden. They have better bread. Michael: What’s wrong with my restaurant?! It’s authentic Italian! The real deal! Vasya: It isn’t Olive Garden’s. Duh. ~oOo~ Nika: Hey guys, do you mind if I ritualistically slaughter this chicken? Peyton, jaw dropped: Uh... yeah a bit. This is the stage where we’re, you know, about to have a musical practice. Not... make chicken nuggets. ~oOo~ Vasya: That bitch is crazy! He had me kidnapped! Adrian, looks away: ... Alexei: Ohmygod... ~oOo~ Jack: Papa, where do babies come from? Vladimir: ... Russia and Spain. Matt: That is not- Vladimir: My babies came from Russia and Spain, Matvey! Matt: Well if you want to get technical! Jack was born in Hell’s Kitchen! You idiot! ~oOo~ Mariah: Oh, Misty. Lucille is just... such a delightful child... Misty: Thank you, Mariah. I just... adore Honor... Danny & Shades, both sighing: ... ~oOo~ Matt: What's wrong?! Why are you bleeding?! Vasya, crying: I think I have internal bleeding! Matt: Oh honey. Internal means it's on the inside. Vladimir, smacking the back of Matt's head: Asshole. ~oOo~ Lucille: Breathe in. Now breathe out. Breathe in. ... Jack. Dani. Wake up. Vasya: They don't like meditating very much. Jack, snoring: ... Danielle, snoring: ... ~oOo~ Karen: You taught her how to treat a hemorrhage but not a period?! Matt: I didn't think it was important?! ~oOo~ Taka: I’m like the Malcolm X of our community! ~oOo~ Jack: Hey Siri, what was it like being poor and Asian? Marie: Terrible from what I’ve heard from my grandma. Peyton: Well, the mangoes aren’t as good in America. ~oOo~ Toly: I love fencing. I get to make new friends then stab them. ~oOo~ Vasya: I think I'm dying! Matt: Honey we're all dying. Vladimir, smacks Matt on the back of the head: What is your fucking problem tonight?! ~oOo~ Ravdí: Peyton, when you asked us to choreograph a dance number for this musical, you did not say that it was for Maddie’s zombie love story. Peyton: Yeah! Isn’t it a great idea?! Maddie’s story makes for a great musical and with you and Vas making a dance, I think this will be a big hit! Vasya, staring at Jamie: ... uh huh. Got this.... Ravdí: ... fiiine. We’re choreographing a dance number for zombies in love. Let’s go, Vas. ~oOo~ Bucky, wearing galaxy print yoga pants: Look my pants are out of this world so shove it. Vladimir: ... damn that was good. High five, Yakov. ~oOo~ Honor: Richard, I can taste your axe body spray. Get off of me! ~oOo~ Vasya: Well a drunk Stalin called me and told me that if I wanted Russia, he’d just give it to me! Matt: ... we need new Sunday dinner topics... Shauna: Ooh! I got one! Vladimir! You smell like melted cheese! Jack, whispering to Toly: You owe me five bucks. Eight minutes in and they’re screaming at each other. Matt, sighing: This is fine... Anatoly: I have vodka. Do you want some? ~oOo~ Yelena: If that boy so much as touches her I am destroying him. Natasha: I've already thought of ways we can hide his body. Yelena: I love you so much. ~oOo~ Michael: Both of my girls could kick my ass without even blinking and I find it unbelievably amazing. ~oOo~ Brad: Ooh authentic Chinese food! Diane: It's not Chinese, it's Asian! André: ... ya'll bitches be trippin'. ~oOo~ Richard: So I talked to your sister about who's the boss on this group project. Jack: Uh huh. How'd that go exactly? Who's in charge on your project? Richard: ... it's still unclear. Jack: Right. My sister is in charge, isn't she? Richard, sighing: I can't tell her no. ~oOo~ Maddie: ... why is there a live bear in the house? Marci: What? ... Ahhh! Bear! ~oOo~ Vladimir, saluting lazily: Aye aye captain. Yelena, ugly snort laughs: Shut up Vova. ~oOo~ Bucky: So how's that Eurofest thing going? Vladimir, pausing: ... you mean Eurovision? Bucky, snapping his fingers: Yep! That's it. ... don't look at me like that. I was closer that time than I was earlier. Vladimir: ... this. Is true. I don't even know what you said earlier. ~oOo~ Toly: Hey, Al? Alexei: Yeah? Toly: What was that? Alexei: An icecream commercial. Toly: No the fuck it wasn’t! Don’t you lie to me! ~oOo~ Jack: So you love my sister? Michael: Sí, more than air. Why? Jack: Would you be willing to take a bullet for her? Michael: ... yes? Why? Jack: I'll see you at the pier later tonight, Moretti. ~oOo~ Alexei: Man if one more person tells me that I am appropriating my own got dang culture Imma beat someone's ass. ~oOo~ Richard: I can't believe you said that! If you weren't a lady, I'd deck you! Vasya: You try and I'll have you on your back so fast you'll think you're out on a date! ~oOo~ Raphael: Wait, wait, wait! Hold on. You’re dumping me? For him? Nika, rolling her eyes: No, I’m dumping you, period. And then I’m gonna be with him. Period. If... that’s okay with him, question mark. Francis: Totally. Exclamation point. Raphael: Oh puke. Parenthesis, bold, underline. Michael, holding Smolya: Snort laughing. ... period. Raphael: Why are you even here? Michael: This is my apartment! ~oOo~ Yelena, after explaining a plan: It’s brilliant, right? Vladimir: Not brilliant at all. Yelena: Thanks for being on board. Vladimir: No. Not on board. Yelena: It means a lot. Vladimir: Big mistake. Very big mistake. Yelena: This will be wonderful! Vladimir: We are going to die slow, painful deaths. ~oOo~ Yelena: You get them! Vladimir: No you go get them! Natasha: What is going on out here? Yelena: We thought- Vladimir: Ah! No! There was no 'we'! Yelena: Shut up! We thought that the girls needed some life lessons... Vladimir: It was Lena's idea. Matt: Don't you dare tell me that Vasya and Nika, who are small toddlers may I add, are somewhere up there on that 100 foot tall building! Yelena: Okay, we won't. Vladimir: ... again, her idea. ~oOo~ Vasya: Fuck you! Dimitri: Later. Now shut up. I was talking. ~oOo~ Jack: I want to kill those guys! Vladimir: No! Matt: What a shocking turn of events... Vladimir: I don’t want you to bloody your beautiful hands! I will do it! ~oOo~ Vladimir: Oh congrats! You’ve made my seven year old look like a whore! Shauna: I think she looks great! Vasya: I think I want a leather jacket and combat boots now! Matt, groaning: Our seven year old is joining the mafia! ~oOo~ Rikki: I am a chapstick lesbian- is that the proper term for this? Because I’m not a lipstick lesbian, I’m definitely not femme, but I’m not entirely butch either? So I think I identify as a chaptstick les- screw it. I identify as chapstick! Just chapstick! Darla: What kind of chaptstick though? Sasha: Is it cherry? Because I see you as a cherry. ~oOo~ Marie: I’m like a Little Ceaser’s Pizza. Always hot and ready to go. Jack: Oh my god... Peyton: You’re gross. And I hate you. ~oOo~ Alexei: Toly’s a crackhead. Toly: I am not! I’m a motha fucking ganster! Alexei: See? Smokes crack. Andrey: I’m seeing myself out of this argument. ~oOo~ Yelena: All these screaming babies and yelling mothers and angry dads and annoying teenagers. They make me want to shoot up this mall. Nika: You cannot say that in public! Yelena: Why not?! It’s my second amendment right to shoot up a shopping center! Nika: NO! ~oOo~ Darla: I’m not much into BDSM. If I wanted to be whipped and chained up I’d just go back in time. ~oOo~ Peyton: Oh my sweet, poor, Japanese cherry blossom... Taka: Thank you. ~oOo~ Michael: This person wants us to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to them?! What?! Rahphael, snorts: That’s not happening. What do they think this is? Applebees?! ~oOo~ Peyton: It annoys me so much when people come here asking if we have a table and then get so offended when we don’t have them because of incoming reservations. Jamie: Honestly! What do they think this is?! Applebees?! We are a five star establishment! ~oOo~ Anatoly: You three better eat these pierogies! I didn’t starve in Utkin for you to deny yourselves food! Alexei, Toly, and Andrey, sighing: Yes, sir... ~oOo~ Bucky: You are a whole ass menace to society! Yelena: I will live. ~oOo~ Wesley: ... I’ve lost Maya. Fisk: Again, Wesley? Wesley, sighing: Unfortunately. ~oOo~ Lucy: I fear nothing. Not even god. Dani, Vasya, and Honor, watching her drink a smoothie: You’re disgusting. Jack: Can I have some of your smoothie? ~oOo~ Daisy: Being an inhuman is genetic. Vladimir: She gets this from your side of the family, Matthew! Daisy: But... you two adopt- Matt: I know. Don’t ask. Go with it. ~oOo~ Ian: Ugh, what do I take for hangovers? Darla: How horribly caucasian. Marie, snorts: Ha! Darla: Well isn’t it?! Marie, shrugging: I don’t know. I get the Asian flush so I take medicine before drinking. ~oOo~ Vladimir: I wonder what she’s going to buy... Matt: I wonder where she got the money... Jack: Vasi’s buying a bag of pepperoni! ~oOo~ Shauna: Look, we all know Toly won’t get into Harvard otherwise- Toly: What if I don’t want to go to Harvard?! Shauna: Ugh fine! Yale then! Toly: But mom- Shauna: Harvard or Yale Anatoly Jr! ~oOo~ Vasya: At least you all woke up in a bed! I woke up in the garbage! Jack: Okay. But. That’s nothing new. Nika, elbows him: Don’t be rude. ~oOo~ Sasha: I was in the dumpster! The dumpster! Rikki: My mom is blue! Darla: So I can see that this is a very stressful time for you both... ~oOo~ Dani: Lucy’s gonna be a minute. Vasya: Did she wake up in the trash too? Dani: No, she woke up half Asian. Lucy’s having a full blown identity crisis. ~oOo~ Vladimir: Your house is full! Full of sadness and emptiness! Yelena: Alright first off, you’re rude. Second, you’re a hoarder! ~oOo~ Sam: We don’t need this! Bucky: Sam, need and want are two different things. ~oOo~ Matt: I may not have vision but at least I have taste! ~oOo~ Vladimir: Ooh! For realsky?! Vasya: For suresky! ~oOo~ Anatoly: No son of mine is going to listen to shitty rap about doing cocaine! Alexei, thinking to himself: Please don’t tell mom... Anatoly: And Alexei Anatolyevitch! I am telling! Your mother! Alexei: Noooo!!!! ~oOo~ Therapist: Mr. Murdock, I think that Ms. Natchios may be one of your triggers. Matt: Please! I don’t have triggers! I am fine! Vladimir, snorts and coughs to cover it up: Okay. Elektra: Suuure you are Matthew. Matt: I will throw this chair at you, I swear to God! Don’t test me! ~oOo~ Shauna, lunging for Wesley: Augh! I can’t take it anymore! Vladimir, watching her punch Wesley: Shauna has earned my respect. Matt: It only took you five years to give it to her... ~oOo~ Jack: I’m so American that my favorite food is a McDonald’s cheeseburger! ~oOo~ Vladimir: If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?! Vasya: I dunno! Maybe if they invited me! Matt, slowly rubs his temples: ... I have a headache now... ~oOo~ Yelena: I drive like I have nothing to live for. Which I don’t really. Vladimir: Remind me to never drive near you with my children in the car. Natasha: And remind me to drive Nika around from now on. ~oOo~ Rikki: What do Asian parents beat their kids with? Francis: I don’t know. Textbooks? Ian: Rulers with F’s written on them? Jack: Slippers? Marie, glaring: I’m judging you all harshly. Jack: But are we wrong?! Marie: They feed us! Francis: Well that’s not a punishment. Marie: It is if you don’t like the thing they’re making you eat. ~oOo~ Vladimir: Has anyone seen my son?! He’s about yay tall! Clearly gay! But we haven’t had the talk yet! ~oOo~ Yelena: SHOW ME LOVE! SHOW ME LOVE! Nika: Mom... what is going on? Natasha, stirring her coffee: Oh just the usual amount of bullshit I deal with on a daily basis due to your other mother. ~oOo~ Maddie: I’m supposed to be in class. Ravdí: It’s okay, I’m supposed to be at work. ~oOo~ Darla: Oh what do I know?! Only what’s best for you! Rikki: I’m self destructive. Darla: I was just kidding. Rikki: I wasn’t. ~oOo~ Anatoly: How’s your dad’s restaurant doing? Alex: Very well. Alexei: Grandpa deletes bad reviews off his facebook so it only has five star reviews. He sees two stars, delete! Five star, it stays. Alex: He needs to fix the roof. Anatoly: ... what’s wrong with the roof? Alex: It’s old. Alexei: It leaks. Alex: The AC needs to be fixed too. Anatoly: What’s wrong with the AC? Alex: It’s old. Alexei: It’s broken. Shauna: ... I love your dad’s restaurant! ~oOo~ Vasya: Does anyone know if the damage control shampoo works on PTSD? Adrian: What about emotions? Asking for a friend. ~oOo~ Yelena: Oh god it’s missing! Natasha: What is? Yelena: The... the thing! Natasha, turning to face Yelena with baby Nika in her arms: What ‘thing’, Lenosha? Yelena, sighing in relief: Oh thank god, you found it. Natasha: ... you mean our daughter?! ~oOo~ Francis: A four letter word starting with ‘c’. Go! Rikki: Cock! Jack: Cunt! Rikki: Ooh! Nice one. Vasya: ... mine is corn. Nika: Well that’s adorable. Darla: Cute. ~oOo~ Vladimir: So it’s just a girls night? Vasya: Yeah, we’re just going to see a movie, grab a bite to eat, talk to the dead, and, if we have time, try to commit arson. Vladimir: Okay, have fun and don’t come back too late! Matt: ... after all that you just let her leave?! She said she’s going to commit arson, Vladimir! Vladimir: No, she said they’re going to try! They have to talk to the dead first, Matthew! ~oOo~ Matt, on the phone with Brett: Yeah, hey, if you get a call about a fire, can you give me a call? No reason. ~oOo~ Ravdí: Hey! I waterboarded myself! ~oOo~ Honor: This is a three day vacation! Lucy: Where are we supposed to be sleeping?! Richard: Well I just assumed you two would be inside each other. Jack, spits his drink out: ... ~oOo~ Vasya: So I met this girl at this coffee shop this morning- Honor: Oh no... No no no no. Vasi. You will not come out of this alive. Vasya: Uh... excuse me? Honor: She’s clearly a cannibal. Have you looked at yourself? You’re clearly an easy target. You’re a ballerina and very well marbled. If I were stuck on a deserted island with no food, I would absolutely eat you first. Literally everyone just stares: ... ~oOo~ AJ, the highschool art teacher, very clearly drunk: Listening to Brad talk is like listening to a horny bear claw into a chalkboard. I’m not pleased. Matt: ... well neither am I with that in mind. Shauna: I’m going to throw up. Bucky: God I love PTA meetings! ~oOo~ Honor: Gay kid! Alexei, blinks a lot: ... Honor: Asian girl! Marie: ... Marie. It’s not a hard name. Honor: Asian girl two! Peyton, inhaling deeply: ... she’s a kid. Breathe... Honor: Panda Express! Jamie: ... I swear to god... Honor: Weird twins! Rikki and Darla, blink and roll their eyes: ... Honor: Creepy incest twins! Jack and Vasya: ... we are not- Richard: Okay! So theater club meeting is in session now! ~oOo~ Ravdí: Sloppy babies! You’re all sloppy babies! Dani: Maybe we shouldn’t be calling the freshmen that. And give them encouraging words of wisdom instead? Ravdí: No! They keep dropping their flags! Again, babies! ~oOo~ Richard: Aren’t most of you gay? Honor: How dare you! ~oOo~ Ravdí: I’m sorry. All this time I’ve been treating you like an unpaid intern. When what I should have been doing is treating you like a paid intern. ~oOo~ Jack: Buenos dias, fuckboy! Ian, screaming shrilly: ... ~oOo~ Alexei: We’re all going to die someday. Well. Some of us. Toly: If you figure out immortality you have to share. Alexei: Uh. No. You’re annoying. Andrey: Will you share with me? Alexei: Maybe. ~oOo~ Alexei: Let’s come together! Like Voltron! Andrey: I’m the leg! Toly, rolling his eyes, softly but with feeling: ... fiiine. Losers. ~oOo~ Jack: I wrote this song for my sister! Vasya, closing her eyes, softly but with feeling: Ohgodno... Jack: I wrote this song to tell her that I’m always by her side! Even when we fight! Vladimir & Matt: Aww! ~oOo~ Andrey: Sometimes I feel like Ugolyok films me while in the shower and is waiting to sell the videos on Craigslist. Toly: ... what is wrong with you...? Alexei: ... I... uh... kay. ~oOo~ Lucy and Honor, trapped in an elevator, staring at a creepy puppet on a bike: ... What the ... hell... The puppet: Hello, girls. Let’s play a game. Lucy and Honor, banging on the door: Get us out of here! ~oOo~ Dani: You’re not letting them out of the elevator, are you? Richard: Nope. Not until they confess their feelings. Vasya: This is maniacal... I like this plan. Jack: You are all. So fucked up. ~oOo~ Maddie: I’m going to start projectile vomiting any second now... ~oOo~ The Principal of the highschool: I say we release the hounds into the school. Nick, the highschool science teacher, eyes wide: Let us not do that. AJ, the highschool art teacher: I think it might build character and therefore I veto Nick. ~oOo~ Ravdí, screaming as she runs down the hall: Why are there so many dogs in the hallways?! Vasya: This is the opposite of a problem! Francis: I love them all! Nika, climbing up the lockers, and hissing: Leave me alone! Unless you’re planning on eating my math homework! ~oOo~ Vasya: I will stop at nothing until you are homeless and drinking gutter water. Richard: Ouch. You’re rude.

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babylon-crashing · 5 years

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santa muerte: understand the gifts of death

Death's defining feature is that it counterbalances the power of life and the forces of growth and generativity. Death is the darker but necessary half of life, living energy, and the sexual drive. Death and dying create a void that life must grow and evolve in order to fill. Thus, death drives life's creative and fruitful cycles. This relationship between life and death is foundational to understanding the workings of nature. Grass must grow so that deer may eat it, and later so that we may eat the deer. Without the death of the deer, our own children may not survive.

The twin powers of life and death are deeply respected in many ancient cultures and enshrined in their mythologies. For example, Inanna was the Sumerian goddess of sexual pleasure and fertility. She was also the twin sister of Ereshkigal, the goddess of the underworld (in some descriptions, these goddesses are but a single goddess with a dual nature, both light and dark). The Aztec goddess Mictecacihuatl also embodied the powers of life and death, being both the keeper of the souls of the dead as well as the mother of all of humanity in the next age. Santa Muerte herself likewise represents these powers combined into one figure. Certainly, as Death incarnate, she has the ability to erode, decay, and destroy. By simply withholding her destructive influence, Santa Muerte allows life to flourish.

To say that the power of death had immense sway over both the Europeans and Aztecs is an understatement. Europeans were still reeling from war and plagues that had decimated their own population. The dominance of the danse macabre cultural trend that led to the evolution of figures such as the Grim Reaper and La Parca are testaments to this. The Aztecs practiced sacrifice universally in order to repay the debts that the living owed the power of death. After all, no one would survive for long without harvest and slaughter.

The idea that death embodies an all-encompassing and nearly unlimited scope of power was certainly nothing new to either the Europeans or the Aztecs. In fact, this concept is nearly universal in application already. As far as life and creation spread, death follows to curb and counterbalance it. Without death, there is no drive to fill the empty space it creates. Death is therefore not an inherently negative force. This doesn't change the fact that many people have a negative perception of death. The power it holds over our lives is both ultimate and total. When we feel its nearness, we do not like the sense of shock and loss that it brings. It also has a way of reminding us of our own inevitable demise.

What powers does death possess other than the ability to erode and take life? Death has the power to affect and change all things in creation. In certain early versions of Genesis, God creates the power of death first, even before dividing the heavens and the earth and creating all of the angels. This makes death itself the oldest force in all of creation, secondary only to the pure creative power attributed to God. Some even consider the power of death to be superior to that of Gods own son, Jesus, since even he had to experience its transformative power before he could ascend to his own rightful position in Heaven. In many cultures, even our own, the power of death is accorded a nearly omnipotent status. After all, people frequently joke that few things are certain except death and taxes. This notion is an echo of a much earlier ancient idea, promoted by the Greeks in the form of the goddess Atropos, the cutter of the threads of fate. No one and nothing, not even the king of the gods, was immune to the power of death and the change that it brings.

Death is also frequently seen as a balancing force that is capable of extracting an exact judgment This idea is likewise ancient, reflected in the function of goddesses such as Atropos. There are two reasons for this. The first is that death knocks equally at the gates of poor men and at the palaces of kings. It does not discriminate in terms of social class or standing. The majority of ancient peoples were not members of privileged social classes — there were far more peasant shepherds than high priests and kings. Members of the upper class often had the right to brutally tax, conscript, and even kill members of the peasant class, and enjoyed a far broader range of privileges. The idea that all-powerful death could suddenly appear to strike down a cruel and petty lord must have had broad appeal to many people.

The second reason that death is seen as a judging force is that sentencing prisoners to death for even minor crimes has been a standard practice worldwide for millennia. One reason for this is that the threat of death is a great deterrent. If you know that you are going to be hanged for stealing, then you must evaluate each theft in terms of its real risk to your life. For much of human history, we have killed or enslaved criminals instead of imprisoning them — the rehabilitation of prisoners is a modern idea. In addition, keeping large quantities of people confined to a small area for a prolonged period creates many practical problems, including providing adequate sanitation and limiting the spread of disease. Many of the technologies to make this possible were not available until the l9th and 20th centuries. Thus, there was no way to keep prisoners, even if societies had wanted to. Therefore, death by execution was a practical means of dealing with the criminal population, and so death itself became associated with judgment.

The power of death is also frequently seen as a keeper of wisdom and learning. This idea is likewise an ancient one. The Fates, for example, wove the magic thread that outlined the course of a persons life. The course of mans fate was preordained. The Fates knew everything that had happened and was likewise fated to be. This power gave the Fates the enormous capacity to understand mankind and his foibles. Any leniency in their decisions was based on this massive depth of wisdom. The idea that death was purveyor of wisdom was also rooted in the ancient Jewish tales that deeply influenced Christianity. Because death was likewise thought to be created first, even before all of the angels and the earth, it is the oldest power in creation. The serpent in the Garden of Eden is also sometimes identified as the angel of death. This makes death the purveyor of wisdom as well as freedom from the perfect-but-limited cradle that the Garden of Eden represents. Thus, the consequence of seizing divine wisdom and leaving the divine cradle is the acceptance of death.

The power of death is also seen as having an incredibly transformative touch. Natures renewal depends on it; rotting plant and animal matter makes the most fertile compost, and the desolate ash fields left in the wake of a raging forest fire quickly fill with new green seedlings. We also leave our bodies behind to be buried and decompose within the earth, or often to be burned to ashes in a funeral pyre. No person or thing escapes its eventual touch. Even mythological exceptions to this rule, such as the Greek hero Hercules and the Biblical prophet Ezra, are rare.

Where does our consciousness go when we die? The idea that our consciousness continues in some fashion is an extremely common and ancient spiritual belief. For those who believe that the earth is the scene of our perpetual reincarnations, death is a necessary step in that process. For those who believe that after dying we are transported to Heaven, Hell, or some other sort of eternal realm, death is likewise a necessary step. In many cultures across millennia, the dead have been buried with useful grave items such as tools and food for their use in the next world. Some cultures even continue to make offerings to their dead such as food, water, perfume, and incense, either to appease them or to beg for their favor. These practices would be impossible to conceive of if a prevalent cultural belief about some kind of life after death did not exist. This idea is the foundation of the Day of the Dead festival and why family members return to the graves of their loved ones to celebrate them and ask for their protection and favor.

In more abstract terms, death also has the power to decay, destroy, and thus transform beliefs, habits, and attitudes. The sense of shock created when someone near and dear to you dies is a perfect catalyst for all kinds of personal change. An individual may suddenly decide to start seeking regular medical care after a cancer diagnosis kills a beloved grandmother, for example. A person may find himself or herself to be more patient and forgiving with other people when a family member dies with whom he or she never made peace. Of course, these changes may be more destructive as well. More than one person has collapsed into severe alcoholism thanks to the death of a loved one. Understanding and accepting death's transformative power are often key steps to preventing such a terrible personal outcome.

Ultimately, the changes that death creates may be simple but profound, such as in the sudden death of a loved one. The death of a spouse, for example, brings not only a great deal of personal introspection, but also a profound change in family and community relationships. A grieving spouse loses the company, closeness, and emotional support of his or her dearest partner, and also loses the deceased spouses practical backing. Funeral expenses create huge bills as the second income suddenly disappears, and one less person is available to help make dinner and get the kids to bed. This loss causes friends and family to suddenly come together to support the surviving spouse, which causes further changes in their own family dynamics. These friends and family members themselves may lose a large amount of their own personal time and income in support of the surviving spouse and children. These actions may strengthen family ties — or severely strain them.

Yet out of this experience, positive gains can be made. The shock and introspection brought about by a loved ones death can also clarify relationships, as well as inspire them to grow. Estranged family members often find a way of forgiving each other in death's wake, for instance, finding their way back into the fold. Individually, affected family members may also find new outlets to express their grief in ways that have lasting positive benefits. They may decide to take up a serious artistic hobby, such as painting or writing. A sudden death can also have a sobering effect on your future planning, such as the reality of needing to financially plan for your own funeral, or needing to cope with the eventual mortality of other friends and members. Even these common kinds of changes can have p,, found and lasting effects on the lives of those whom death has touched, changes that otherwise may not have occurred. This is why the death of a loved one is often remembered as a milestone event in a persons life.

(Tracey Rollin. Santa Muerte: the history, rituals and magic of Our Lady of Holy Death, pages 66-72)

#santa muerte #tracey rollin #understanding the gifts of death

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years

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Across Time and Space (Chapter 9)

Summary: Sequel to I’ll Take Her Place. Slav is showing off a piece of experimental equipment, when it malfunctions and blasts Katie and Keithir to another universe. At the same time, it drags Pidge and Keith over into theirs, effectively swapping places. With their fate resting in the hands of Slav, will they be able to get back home? Or are they stuck to live the rest of their lives in the wrong universe?

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username “kishirokitsune”.

I’m going to switch up my update schedule to every other weekend for a little while, so the next update should be sometime along the 21-23.

(Also, are line breaks no longer a thing on tumblr??? Guess I’m doing this the old way.)

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Chapter 9

OLKARION – CASTLE OF LIONS

Krolia hadn't known what to expect when Keith mentioned a castle, but the building settled in with the Olkarion cityscape still took her by surprise. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, with sleek high spires and lit with light blue. It looked out-of-place, like someone had picked it up from someplace else and deposited it within the city.

She glanced at her son, who looked tense as he carefully guided them towards the castle. Below them, the Olkari stopped to point and stare in fear, but they must have been warned about the Galra craft beforehand, because no one tried to strike them down from the sky.

They flew down to the castle and easily glided into the hangar, parking off to one side. A small group of people were waiting for them when they disembarked, and Krolia was relieved to see Kolivan among them.

Keith walked towards them, but rather than go report to their leader, he headed straight for a young human woman with brown hair. He pulled her into his arms and Krolia watched as his shoulders relaxed, his tension draining away.

“Welcome back, Krolia.”

Her gaze snapped to Kolivan and she inclined her head. She tried her best to pay attention to him, but something kept drawing her back to her son.

There was something... off. She couldn't say for sure what it was, but she could feel it.

“I am glad you came,” Kolivan said. “I worried that not even Keithir would be enough.”

“It almost wasn't. Kolivan, why am I here?” she asked.

“We have a situation here which requires my attention, and I have had difficulties managing both that and my duties as leader. I should have called you in months ago, but felt your position under Ranveig too important. Now, however, things have changed,” Kolivan told her.

Krolia frowned. “What of Antok? Surely he'd be a better...”

Kolivan glanced away.

Oh.

Krolia's stomach churned at the revelation. “Kolivan, I'm sorry. Of course I'll help you, in whatever way you need, but what's so important that you feel you need to divide your attention?”

“Currently, this castle is playing host to two visitors from another reality. We have been working to return them and bring back the two who were sent to their reality. It is a complicated matter, but one of great importance to our cause. Of the missing pair, one is a paladin of Voltron, and the other is a member of the Blade of Marmora.”

Krolia looked around, wondering who it was that came from another world. Her eyes fell on Keith once more.

Keith, who kept casting her guilty looks and then immediately averting his gaze.

Keith, who she was starting to realize looked older than he should.

Keith, who had point-blank refused to travel through the Quantum Abyss, no matter how important it was to her mission.

Krolia swallowed. “You called him 'Keithir'.”

“That is how he introduced himself after the swap happened,” Kolivan said.

He wasn't her Keith.

There was a sting of mild betrayal there. Why hadn't he told her the truth from the start. (Because she never would have believed him.) Didn't he trust her? (He was afraid of how she would react.) Why hadn't he corrected her when she called him “Keith”? (She would have had so many questions from such a simple correction.)

Keithir glanced her way again and she straightened her spine, making a split-second decision on what to do. He watched her approach with no small amount of trepidation, and flinched when she reached for him.

Krolia abruptly pulled him into a hug, giving him no room to pull away. He stiffened up until he realized what was happening and then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back tightly.

What universe he came from didn't matter, he was still her son.

Keithir pulled away after a few long ticks and turned slightly to his left, gesturing his friend forward. “Mom, this is my wife, Katie.”

There was so much to take in – other realities, a wife, the purple color starting to bloom across his cheeks – but Krolia let it all slide over her. She'd stop and ask questions later, but right then she was going to enjoy getting to know her family.

“So is your face supposed to do th- OW!”

Krolia listened, bemused, as the two younger humans began to quietly bicker, while everyone else sighed and did their best to ignore them. It was easy, as Keithir shifted form completely, the purple spreading across his face in the form of short fur. He grimaced as his ears elongated and transitioned to the top of his head, sprouting longer fur than on the rest of his body.

When his transformation was finished, there was only one thing Krolia could think of to say: “You look like your grandfather.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding surprisingly pleased.

There was something else she was missing. Something she didn't really want to think about, but her mind drifted in that direction against her will. He knew nothing about their family history and there were only a few reasons for that to happen.

Even in another reality, she had missed out on being with her son. She would never be able to change that, but she could start trying to make up for it. Whatever he wanted to know, she would tell him, and in the process get to know him and his tiny wife. (And then later, she would get the chance to do it all over again, once they got Keith back.)

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ALTEA – CASTLE OF LIONS

There was a Galra who Pidge didn't recognize waiting in the hall when she went to leave. She froze in the doorway, taking in the Blade uniform and the lack of mask. He seemed friendly enough, despite his lack of smile, but that didn't stop Pidge's brain from jumping to wild conclusions as to why he was there.

She thought Kolivan was the only one of the Blade who knew they were there. How had he found them? Was he supposed to know? And if he was, why hadn't Kolivan told them? Just who was he?

“Umm...”

“Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you,” he said. “I was hoping... Is Keithir – sorry, is Keith here?”

“Pidge, what's going on?”

She jumped, startled by Keith's voice as he exited the bathroom. He walked over to join her with a frown on his face and stared up at the Galra with confusion.

“You're... Thace?” Keith said, struggling to recall his name.

Pidge could dimly recognize the name. She was pretty sure that was the name of one of Kolivan's spies on Zarkon's command ship; the one who they lost communication with, resulting in Keith volunteering to infiltrate to infect the ship with a virus.

“I am,” Thace confirmed. “I was hoping you'd join me on the training deck this morning. Of course, you're more than welcome to join us, Pidge.”

It was tempting. She didn't want to be out of shape by the time they got back to their reality, and it would be nice to fight alongside Keith again, but the call of her stomach was louder. “I might join you later,” she told him.

Keith was already pulling his Blade uniform out of one of the drawers, preparing to put it on.

They'd decided the anonymity of the uniforms was perfect for the times they needed to travel beyond the paladin wing of the Castle, but Kolivan recommended they only do so in the company of Shiro, Allura, or a trusted member of the Blade, like himself or Regris. (Pidge supposed Thace counted too.) She'd have to find someone to take her once she was done in the kitchen.

Pidge left them there, heading off on her own when she saw how comfortable Keith was with going along with Thace. She wasn't sure if it was the familiar name or if Kolivan had specifically mentioned him as someone trustworthy, but she knew he would be okay. Aside from Shiro, who was basically Superman, Keith was the strongest person she knew. If he ran into any trouble, he'd be able to get himself out of it.

The kitchen looked empty when she arrived, but the smell of peanut butter lingered in the air and the plate of perfect cookies sitting on the counter told her she'd just missed Hunk. At least, she assumed it was Hunk. For all she knew, Lance had taken up baking as a way to impress his husband. (She didn't think she'd ever get over the fact that they were married. It was weird, but natural at the same time. Or at least it wasn't impossible to see how they'd be good together.)

Pidge figured it wouldn't hurt if she had one or two cookies. She went to reach for one, but a tiny, purple hand beat her to it, feeling around on the counter before landing on the plate and then carefully withdrawing back down the other side.

She had a pretty good idea who the cookie thief was.

“Yorak?”

A tick passed, and the hand reappeared with the cookie and placed it back on the plate. Pidge stifled her laughter.

“You know, I don't think Hunk would mind if we share one,” she suggested, picking up the same cookie and splitting it evenly.

Yorak peeked around the corner, his big ears twitching in curiosity. He brightened when she held it out to him and happily walked over to accept it. “Thank you!”

Pidge kept an eye on him as she began to nibble on her half, pleased by the taste of peanut butter on her tongue. He reminded her a lot of Matt: polite, but not without a streak of mischief. She doubted he was supposed to be unsupervised in the kitchen and could only guess that he'd once again sneaked away from whoever was watching him.

As before, she had no idea what to do. At least Yorak wasn't crying and seemed content to quietly munch on his treat, but that would only last so long.

Pidge chided herself for such thoughts. If she could handle facing down the likes of Sendak and his underlings, she could handle a simple conversation with a child. She just needed to calm down and think of a simple subject and go from there.

“Peanut butter cookies are my favorite,” she remarked.

Yorak paused to properly chew and swallow. “Mom likes them too. They're good, but chocolate chip are better, especially the way nana makes them.”

Pidge found herself starting to relax. “It's hard to beat a classic.”

Yorak looked pleased with the acknowledgment, but said nothing else, choosing to watch her with his head tilted to the side instead.

Any other time, Pidge would have appreciated the quiet. Social interaction wasn't her strong suit and it usually worked for the better for her if she let someone else take the lead. (Which was what was so nice about being friends with Hunk and Lance, who could do so as naturally as breathing.) With Yorak, it felt awkward. Like he was waiting for her to take charge.

Time for a new topic.

“Yorak?”

Pidge visibly deflated in relief. She was saved!

Yorak quickly stuffed the rest of his cookie into his mouth as an Altean woman with graying hair and dark robes swept into the room, an exasperated but fond expression on her face. She paused at the sight of Pidge before walking over and scooping Yorak up into her arms.

He squealed in delight and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

“You've had your grandfather very worried about you,” she gently scolded. “I know it isn't fun being cooped up all day, but you must be patient with us for a little while longer. And you will apologize for running off.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

Pidge looked at the woman with renewed interest. If she was Yorak's grandmother, then that made her Keithir's mother. The thought threw Pidge off momentarily before she came to the logical conclusion that she was his step-mother. Perhaps she was the reason for Keithir's status as “Prince” though she wasn't sure how, since Allura and her parents were the ruling family of Altea.

There was a massive chunk to the puzzle of that reality that Pidge hadn't been given, and it was going to drive her crazy if she couldn't find out what was being hidden from them. Would it really hurt to tell them more about the lives of their other selves, especially for Keith? What if there was some clue to getting them home that was hidden in the secrets being kept?

Pidge had plenty of time to do some digging and find out, considering her role in repairing the machine so far was reduced to daily updates from Allura and brief discussions of theories to pass on to Slav and his team. With Yorak's grandmother, she had her first opportunity to find out a few things.

She finished off her cookie and cleared her throat to get the woman's attention. “Uh, hi?”

The Altean turned to face her with a soft smile. “Hello, Pidge. Thank you for watching after him. I hope he wasn't much trouble for you.”

“Oh no, he's great,” Pidge quickly assured her. “I only got her a few minutes ago.” She paused, feeling a rush of uncertainty. The woman probably wanted to get Yorak back to where he was supposed to be. She should let her go.

“Sorry, but who are you?” Pidge blurted out, unable to stay quiet in the end.

The woman didn't look at all offended. “I am Honerva.”

It took Pidge a few seconds to recall where she'd heard the name before. It was only once, when Allura and Coran explained the origins of the Lions and the events leading to the destruction of Altea and Daibazaal.

Honerva was the wife of Zarkon.

Pidge backed up as a very real fear began to build in her gut. She fought to remind herself that they were at peace with the Galra and the there was no reason for Zarkon or anyone associated with him to attack her and Keith.

They were safe.

“Pidge, I am sorry. I should not have... Allura mentioned you have great reason to worry and urged myself and my husband to keep our distance,” Honerva said, keeping her voice gentle and low. “I should have listened, but I will admit that my curiosity got the better of me.”

Pidge swallowed her fear. “You and Zarkon, you're Yorak's grandparents? But Keith's dad – I mean, I've met Keithir's dad, so how...?”

Honerva adjusted her hold on Yorak. “It is a bit of a long story, but I have time if you'd like to hear it.”

“I wanna hear,” Yorak said.

Whether it was the sincerity in Honerva's voice or Yorak's eagerness to hear the story, Pidge sat down to listen to what Honerva had to say. Maybe none of it would matter in the long run, but the more she knew, the better prepared she'd be for any more “surprises” thrown her way.

“Nearly thirty deca-phoebs ago, the Blade of Marmora was investigating a rebel unit who desired to gather the Lions and use them to build an army capable of taking down the combined forces of Daibazaal and Altea...”

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

Pidge's talk with Honerva left her with a great amount to think about. She'd thought it was strange how many similarities their two realities shared, so to finally hear some differences put her at ease, and it also made her think that maybe it was because of those similarities that they were able to pas between them. Those parallels formed a bridge; fixed points that were the same, or very nearly the same, and any differences were there to balance things out. The key to going home had to be there somewhere.

She'd mentioned as much to Honerva, who promised to look into it more, but it was something Slav had brought up a number of times and thus far they hadn't had much luck with it.

Pidge had so many more questions and theories and ideas as she settled cross-legged on her bed to wait for Keith's return.

Like, how were they able to pass through without any protective equipment? Was it because of Slav's machine or was it residual protection from the Lions? Would they still be protected when it was time to go back? What would happen if someone who wasn't alive in the other reality got sent through? Would it even be possible? And if it was possible, would they be able to get them back?

She was sure she'd have the answers if Allura would let her in on the meetings, but the last time she asked, the princess recited security issues that Pidge was finally starting to understand the reasoning behind.

She'd assumed it was to keep people from panicking over two missing paladins, but it was more than that.

Keithir was the crown prince of Daibazaal, and as his wife, Katie was the princess.

Pidge closed her eyes and fell back on the bed with a soft “oof”. Her thoughts bounced around as she took a moment to relax and breathe.

She may not be allowed to sit in on meetings, but that didn't mean she was without options of her own. Slav and his team could handle the machine and any equations and algorithms needed, and she would work on building a bridge.

The Lions were the strongest similarity – the strongest connection they had between the two realities. They hadn't had any luck in getting Green and Red to respond, but maybe they were going at it the wrong way.

She had one more idea to try, and they'd need Shiro's help to do it.

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

OLKARION – CASTLE OF LIONS

Keithir found himself in the Black Lion's hangar early the next morning, staring up at the massive Lion while waiting for Shiro to arrive. He wasn't sure what to expect from her. There was every chance that they'd get the same response as they did from Red and Green – silence.

“Work with me, girl,” he murmured as they doors slid open behind him and Shiro walked in, clad in his armor. Keithir raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. It's a habit,” Shiro explained with an amused grin. “Ready to try this?”

“Absolutely,” Keithir replied.

As Shiro walked up, the Black Lion lowered her head and opened her mouth, letting them both inside. Shiro let Keithir sit down in the pilot's seat, choosing to stand behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke as they closed their eyes and cleared their minds, both opening themselves up to the Black Lion.

Keithir's breathing evened out after a few doboshes and a strange, floating sensation washed over him.

And then he felt it.

A pinprick of surprise that wasn't his own. It fueled his determination and he chased after it, following it deeper and deeper into the dark haze until he stumbled through a curtain into an empty plane lit by a colorful nebula.

He glanced at his hands, taking note of the faint glow around them, and nearly fell to his knees in relief. “We did it! Shiro, we did it!” Keithir turned, expecting to see the other man standing with him in the Astral Plane, but there was no one else. “Shiro?” he called out, looking around in confusion.

In the distance, the air distorted and Keithir braced himself for trouble.

A shadowy figured formed and the air smoothed back out as it moved forward. The closer it got, the more Keithir could make out distinct features, until he could say with absolute certainty that it was Shiro standing in front of him.

Except something was wrong.

Shiro stared at him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Keith, is that you?”

#voltron #kidgemas #kidge #reality swap au #fanfiction

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namjoonsteeth · 6 years

Text

Baby Daddy Jay #1

Summary: You and Jay have twin babies...getting ready for a night out goes as expected.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Jay Park x Y/N

Word Count: 2k

Life was getting hectic.

It was hard maintaining a relationship like ours under “normal” circumstances, but last year had given us more than either of us could have expected. Jay was backstage before a show when I’d called him hysterically crying to let him know that we’d somehow conceived not one but two mini versions of us.

Everything happened fast; a little too fast. Within nine months, he’d packed me and my life up, swollen baby belly and all, and moved us to Seoul. It was hell. It was frustrating. It was one of the rough patches in our relationship; filled with guilt, resentment, and a bit of hormonal depression coming from both of us.

Nine months passed both too slow and too quickly. I had to get used to being pregnant while assimilating to a new life in a new country. I couldn’t blame him for as much as my pregnant mind wanted to. I’d volunteered to move for him. I could work from anywhere, I really wanted to just be wherever he was, and I wanted to do everything to keep my relationship from falling apart.

It was rough. We argued a lot. I cried a fucking lot. He left for a night, staying at his studio instead. It was a mess for a good portion of my pregnancy. But there was a lot of good too. Every other moment was filled with Jay babying me as well as the two babies in my stomach. Belly rubs, getting up at ungodly hours to fill my craving of both him and weird food, baby clothes shopping. It was great. And it wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t what I’d expected when I thought about being with Jay for our first couple of years.

We didn’t have plans. That was just always how we were. We made no plans about the order and ways we would live with each other, we just did. We moved whenever we wanted, we went wherever we wanted, and relished in the fact that most couples our age wanted the freedoms we had. Our plan was to not have a plan.

It settled down, though. We figured it out. Babies were weird. Tiny humans who can’t communicate the way most humans do. Tiny bodies who wake and sleep just to have your attention on them from the moment they lifted their head to the moment they shut their eyes.

The first year and a half of their life was filled with just as many ups and downs as when they were in my stomach. But just like before we figured it out. We found a way to build our happiness around our little family.

Now, life was getting hectic again. The twins were walking.

“Babe, she’s in the damn toilet again,”

I sigh with my son on my hip. It took me exactly twelve minutes to chase him around our bedroom so I could fasten the other buckle of his overalls. Even now, he kicks his legs trying to get free. I look down at him, narrowing my eyes for him to relax. It does the exact opposite. His bottom lip pokes out in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to rage. I really don’t need him to rage right now. Not while Rei is making toilet soup.

“Babeeeee-”

“Can you maybe grab her?”

“I’m in the shower, my dick is out,”

I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling asking the lord to give me any strength he wants to send my way. Miles is still kicking and screaming. I’m ready to jump down the laundry shoot.

I walk into the bathroom to see Jay peeking his head around the fogged glass shower door. He’s useless sometimes. Useless and pretty.

“Can you not say dirty words around the babies,”

“They don’t know what I’m saying,” he counters. His eyes go to Rei who just discovered her daddy in the shower. She holds her wet hands out reaching for him.

“Miles took a poop the other day and screamed shit at the top of his lungs. Your children are smarter than you. Rei, that’s enough, come on,”

I reach down and pull my daughter onto my other hip. I'm not surprised when her wet hand slaps against my cheek as she starts her kicking. Her tantrum over shadows Miles’s and he’s honestly in awe as if he’s taking notes in his little head.

“Not to put you on a timer, but you have five minutes. She needs a bath now and Miles is in a mood,”

Jay narrows his eyes at his son who has the nerve to look sorry. I need a nap. I’m sorry for teaching them how to walk. And my boyfriend is only helpful in oddly specific instances.

“I’m done just take them out so I can get dressed,”

“I need to get dressed too, Jay,” I pout. “They won’t stay still and we’re running out of time,”

“I know, baby, I know. Three minutes and I’m out and all yours,”

I take both babies out of the bathroom and sit in the middle of our bathroom. It’s a struggle keeping Rei from touching Miles but I manage it for the three minutes it takes Jay to come out. I can’t even dwell on how good he looks for more than a second.

“Nice jeans,” I mumble handing him his son.

“It that what our relationship has come to? Quick empty compliments?” He jokes behind me.

He leans against the door frame while I strip Rei down. I plug the bath up and fill it with warm water. Rei starts trying to climb the side of the bathtub. I’m too tired to tell her to get down. Instead, I lift her up and plop her down into the water much to her surprise.

“No time to play, baby. You played enough in the toilet,”

Like I’m talking to a wall, her hands slap against the surface of the water, her pretty brown eyes sparkling with mischief. She’s her father's child. Both kids test the limits and see how far they can push their parents’ boundaries. A trait that their father is directly responsible for.

I look up at my boyfriend as he scolds Miles about trying to kick his way down. We both learned early on that Miles is a runner. Actually, he’s a kicker and a runner. If he’s not held tight enough, you better believe his little feet are kicking and going.

“No, you’re not going,” Jay says squeezing his little baby cheeks between his thumb and index finger. I see the tantrum before it begins. Bottom lip poked out, feet winding back for movement.

“Stop moving, kid,” he says as if trying to appeal to a rational side of our son. “Nothing’s even wrong with you. You’re acting out for no- OW SON OF A BITCH,”

I’m both offended and taken aback by his sudden outburst. Both babies look up at their daddy with their tiny mouths fixed in the shape of an ‘O’.

“He kicked me in the balls,” Jay says like he’s ready to give up parental rights. “You put shoes on him and he kicked me in the balls. Take your son. I’m bathing Rei,”

“You called me a dirty name, Daddy,” I say rising off my spot on the bathroom floor. I grab Miles and Jay kisses my cheek as we exchange children.

“I didn’t mean it, my dick hurts,” he whispers.

I hand him a washcloth and body wash for Rei and leave to go try and shower myself. I hear Jay talking to Rei like she’s a princess as he squeezes bubble bath into the water. I do remember explicitly saying no playing.

“Jay we have thirty minutes,” I remind him.

“Go shower and mind your business,” he yells back. “My baby wants bubbles. I’m giving her bubbles,”

I roll my eyes and head to the other bathroom. I grab the walker sitting in the hallway and set it in the bathroom. I also grab the strawberry stars from the bedside table.

“We don’t have time for you to run around Miles. I need you to be good for me and stay,”

I set him in the seat and pour out a bunch of stars. To his credit, he eats happily while I take one of the world’s quickest showers. I get out, wrap a towel around my waist and pick him up.

When I get back to the bedroom, Jay has Rei dressed and they’re both lying on our bed. Rei sits on Jay’s chest her feet kicking at his chin. They’re both grinning happily. If he gets a busted lip it’s on him.

I set Miles next to his sister on top of Jay and watch as they take turns torturing their father. Miles crawls up towards Jay’s head reaching for the headboard.

“He’s going to stand up,” I warn.

“I know he is,”

“He’s your baby,”

“I know he is. Miles please, you’re going to end my life one day,”

Miles has one foot on Jay’s throat and one on the bed. He takes turns shifting his weight from foot to foot. He really might kill his father. Oedipus complex at its finest.

Rei watches her brother happily, slapping at Jay’s cheeks. They’re entertained. Thank God. I take advantage of the abuse and run to get dressed. Dresses are truly the Lord's creation. I slip a simple cotton dress over my head and slip into a pair of plain white sneakers. Hair and makeup become a non-issue with children. My hair gets wound into a bun and I’m done in about five minutes.

“Are you alive, baby,” I ask, walking back into the bedroom. Jay’s on his phone with the babies. Three heads huddle together watching the flashing pictures on the screen. Rei has her thumb in her mouth and her other hand under the collar of Jay’s T-shirt. Even Miles is calm, his bottom lip between his teeth as he focuses on cartoons.

They look so calm. I don’t even dare to tell Jay to take Rei’s thumb out of her mouth as usual. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same babies from earlier. All three of them are so cute. I want to climb in beside them but we also have to be out the door if we’re going to make it to dinner.

“We should go out in the world and be people, right?” I ask pouting.

Jay’s eyes meet mine. “We’ve been through...just so much tonight. We have to go,”

“They’re so peaceful,” I insist.

“We’ll leave early,” Jay wagers.

“Then what’s the point of even going. The babies don’t like being passed around the circles of our friends and look at Rei,”

I try appealing to his week spot. Jay carefully looks down at his daughter. She peeks up adorably at him from under her long eyelashes. Her face breaks into a heart-splitting grin that nearly knocks me down.

“I’m in love,” Jay says to no one in particular.

“I know. Rei knows. We all know how weak you are,”

“She loves me,” he grins. As if to punctuate his statement, Rei pulls her finger from her mouth and presses her lips against Jay’s cheek. Miles gets up and looks around, feeling left out, he presses his lips to the other side of Jay’s face.

“Ok, we’re staying,”

“Text your friends,” I smile happily.

“We do this every time,” he groans holding his babies against him.

“We have a family. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to stay in with our babies,”

“I know. Come up,” Jay says making room for me. I climb up beside him and Miles immediately reaches over for me. He lays his head against my chest, kicking at Jay when he moves to wrap his arm around me.

“Why is he like this,” Jay says full of frustration.

“Because you’re the same way. Both of you have annoying, possessive habits,”

“Protective,” Jay corrects while typing out a message on his phone. He presses a button to pair his phone to the tv and the four of us watch cartoons until we fall asleep.

#jay park #jay park scenarios #jay park imagine #khh scenarios #khh imagines #aomg #h1ghrmusic #park-jaybum writes

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riseandshinelittleblossom · 5 years

Text

When Maxwell Met Stephanie: Pt. 2- Christmas Eve

This is another bit of backstory for Maxwell and Stephanie within the Cordonians Gone Wild AU created by @speedyoperarascalparty , @ao719 , @leelee10898 and @cocomaxley. Thank you guys so much for letting me be a part of this fantastic AU!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the TRR characters, they own me.

My tags: @fullbeaumonty @brightpinkpeppercorn @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @blackwidow2721 @choiceslife @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul

CGW tags: @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @ooo-barff-ooo @tornbetweentwoloves @ownworldresident

Pam opened the door of the Walker cabin to find Anitah, Alicia, and Genevieve. “Hey guys. What do Drake and I owe the pleasure?” She asked, stepping aside as the girls filtered in. “We're scheming of course.” Anitah giggled. “It's a good, Christmas spirit scheme.” Alicia assured. “Maybe just a little bit selfish too.” Gen shrugged. The ladies gathered in the living room, spreading around the furniture. “Okay, I'm listening.” Pam perched on the arm of the couch next to the queen. “So you know how everyone keeps commenting about how we have to find Max a partner right? He's always alone when we all get together…” Gen started. “And we kind of feel like, at least Alicia and I owe Maxwell in a huge way.” “Right. I mean without Max, she'd have never gotten to marry Liam. And if she'd never married Liam, I'd have never met Leo.” Alicia shrugged. “So you want to play Christmas matchmaker for Maxwell?” Pam asked quirking an eyebrow. The ladies all nodded. “Okay, so I take it you guys have someone in mind then?” “Well you weren't here to see it, but our little Maxie was quite smitten with Drake's cousin, Stephanie. She and her mom stayed at Ramsford for a couple of weeks after your wedding and he's been texting her and talking to her on the phone and Pictagram ever since.” Anitah said slyly. “No. Absolutely not. I'll be damned if I watch another member of my family get involved with the Beaumonts. Not happening. Leave my cousin out of this.” Drake said entering the living room, folding his arms across his chest. Pam rolled her eyes. “Drake, stop being so dramatic. Don't you want to see Maxwell happy?” “Sure if it keeps him out of my hair. Can't he be happy with someone that doesn't share my DNA? Lady Hana? Lady Penelope thinks he hung the moon for Christ's sake.” “But we like Stephanie too.” Alicia piped up. “Plus she seemed to really like him. You can't choose who she likes, Mallow-man.” Gen added. “I'm in. Don't pay any attention to my grumpy husband. He'll get over it. I'll make it up to him later.” Pam gave him a coy wink. Drake came up behind his wife, sliding his arms around her waist and planting a tender kiss to her cheek. “If you swear he'll be too busy with Stef to bother me on our vacations, I suppose I'll survive. Just don't pressure her or anything. She's like my little sister. And I swear if he hurts her…” “Drake, Maxwell is a good catch. I don't think you have to worry about that.” Anitah defended. “So what's the plan?” He asked reluctantly. “The Christmas Eve ball. We wanna invite Stephanie to attend. And surprise Maxwell with her!” Gen exclaimed clapping her hands together. “Right,” Alicia began. “That's where you guys come in, since she's your family and all.” *********************** “What am I doing?” Stephanie wondered staring out the window of the royal jet. Drake had called her out of the blue and invited her to attend the Cordonian Christmas Ball. He'd talked with her a little bit about her relationship with Maxwell. Was it even a relationship? It was weird whatever it was, but she couldn't wait to see him. Her cousin had also filled her in on the plan the ladies had to surprise Maxwell with her attendance, and so far it was proving to be so hard not to tell him she was on her way to see him. Her phone lit up with a text from Maxwell. M: I hate getting fitted for a new suit. Why can't I just go in a suit I already have? S: Go where? M: this Christmas Ball. I'd rather skip it and FaceTime with you on Christmas Eve. S: awww I bet it'll be so much fun! You have a hot date? Lol M: well I have this girl I wanna take, but she's in Texas. I don't think she'll make it Stephanie beamed down at the screen. She had never been the type to be giddy over text messages, or guys for that matter; but something about Maxwell made her that way. They'd been inseparable during her time in Cordonia after the wedding, and despite the huge time difference they'd kept in touch since she'd returned home. Stephanie peered out the window as the pilot announced their descent. Her body buzzing in anticipation at just the thought of seeing Maxwell again. She wouldn't have to wait long as the ball was tomorrow night, but as she glanced back down at his words on her screen the task of keeping quiet even just one more day seemed insurmountable. *************** “So, Maxwell huh? You really like Maxwell?” Drake asked taking a sip of his beer. Stephanie peeled at the label on her own before taking a swig. “It's hard to explain and I know it sounds crazy, but I think I more than like him, Drake. I've never felt like this before. It's like... we're connected somehow.” She shook her head and averted her eyes from her cousin's probing gaze. “It doesn't sound that crazy. It's exactly how I felt about Pam. Like I'd known her all of my life, but I couldn't get enough of her.” “Yeah, but you were here with her. Touching her, smelling her...you were with her. Max and I have only had text messages and phone calls. What if once we're together he can't stand my perfume. Or what if I can't stand the way he bobs when he walks? The little things that get lost in a long distance communication.” Stephanie's eyes were clouded with confusion when she looked back at Drake. He could tell she was nervous about tonight. Her eyes searched him for answers to her unspoken questions. “Why did you come all this way to surprise him, Stef? I mean there had to be a reason right?” She screwed her eyes shut trying to find the right words. Finally she exhaled. “I... I love him, Drake. I know it like I know that the sky is blue and the grass is green. I felt like maybe...maybe being invited here was Fate's way of telling me that what I'm feeling is real. And that he feels it too. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't take the chance.” He opened his mouth as if to reply, but was interrupted as Pam came down the hall, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “You ready, Stef? The girls are waiting for us at the salon.” she said grabbing her keys off the hook. She strode over to Drake, kissing him warmly. “I'll see you guys tonight.” He told her, reluctantly releasing her lips, but never breaking eye contact. Stephanie gulped the rest of her beer, sliding the empty bottle toward her cousin. “Guess it's now or never.” ************* Stephanie was thankful for the queen's penchant for pre-gaming events like this. The ladies had already had their nails, hair and makeup done, donning bathrobes before they put on their elaborate gowns for the evening, and they were already a bottle and a half of champagne deep. “It seems like such a waste to get this hot just to sneak away from the party later.” Alicia laughed. They all knew it would happen at some point in the evening, so they didn't bother arguing. “How're you feeling, Stef? Ready to surprise Max?” Pam asked. “Nervous? Excited? I'm not sure how I'm feeling but I could sure use a whiskey sour.” She laughed. “Definitely related to Drake!” Anitah giggled hailing one of the staff over. “Let's get Lady Stephanie a whiskey sour, please. She needs the liquid courage.” Stephanie's whiskey sour had arrived promptly and she sipped it quietly taking in the chatter from the other ladies as they headed into the boutique. There was a giant red velvet bow adorning one of the changing stalls along with a sign which read “reserved” . Anitah sauntered over to the door and removed the sign. “This,” she began proudly, spinning on her heels to face her new friend, “is where we're going to stuff you once you're dressed to surprise Beaumont.” “Sounds good. Guess we should get to getting dressed then.” Stephanie replied. She selected an emerald green dress, simple satin with a trumpet skirt. It would hug her curves nicely. She slipped into the changing booth to put it on, careful not to disturb the elegant side-swept hair do the hairdresser had given her. The off the shoulder straps and sweetheart neckline showcased more of her cleavage than she had intended, but hopefully Maxwell would enjoy that. Drake, however, would likely flip his lid even if he was quiet about it. She stared at her reflection in the floor length mirror before her. She'd paired the dress with an heirloom string of her grandmother's pearls and her hand landed upon them absentmindedly as her phone lit up with a text from Maxwell. M: I think your cousin in broken :D S: broken? What do you mean? M: well he's been pre-gaming this ball more than usual. We just had a very weird conversation about the proper way to court a lady and the importance of safe sex practices. Stephanie laughed out loud at the text. She couldn't wait to see him. Just the knowledge that somewhere within these very walls he was hanging around shooting her these rapid fire texts, totally oblivious to her presence was enough to make her heart ache for him and she sighed hearing Pam's voice from the main boutique “Drake said Liam just left with Maxwell. They'll be here any moment. All done in there, Stef?” ******************* Maxwell was filled with so much excitement he feared he would burst. As he and Liam made their way through the palace towards his Christmas surprise from his girl squad it was all he could do not to take off in a sprint. “Slow down, they're putting the finishing touches on now. You'll spoil the whole the if we arrive early.” Liam chuckled clapping his old friend on the shoulder. “Sorry, Li. I'm just...no one ever surprises me. I'm usually the surprise-er, and I love surprises. I just want to know what it is already!” His pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone, a text from Stephanie, of course. He stopped dead in his tracks to read the message, his face lighting up like the many Christmas trees throughout the palace. “Come one, Max. I thought you were excited.” Liam joked. Maxwell held up a finger. “Uno momento, compadre.” he shot off another reply before he resumed his bouncy steps. “Are we? Is my surprise in the boutique?” Liam placed his hand on both of Maxwell's shoulders and steered him into the boutique, the ladies were standing around looking as excited as their best friend. “God, you all look so hot!” He exclaimed making his rounds, pulling each lady into a brief but warm embrace. “ Merry Christmas, Beaumont!” Pam shouted. “You don't look so bad yourself, Max.” Alicia told him. “Are you ready for your surprise?” Gen asked as Anitah rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I can't believe you guys have a surprise for me! Of course I'm ready for it.” “Well it's right in there,” Anitah started gesturing to the door with the velvet ribbon. “Go on and open it!” The room was buzzing as Maxwell crossed the distance to the door. He reached for the handle, but abruptly recoiled his hand. “I know you ladies too well….this is gonna jump out and scare me isn't it?” A collective groan rang through the room just as the decorated door swung open. Stephanie raced out of the changing booth, leaping to close the foot height gap between herself and Maxwell as she threw her arms around his neck. “SURPRISE!” She shouted. Maxwell's eyes were like saucers as he spun her around, clinging to the petite redhead for dear life. “Stephanie?! How did you..? You're really here?!” He peered momentarily over her shoulder to look at Anitah, Pam, Genevieve, and Alicia. They all stood with wide smiles, and Gen and Anitah were clapping. “Thank you” he mouthed the words at them as he settled Stephanie back on the ground holding her at arm's length for a moment. “I've never seen anything more beautiful and elegant in my life.” He commented, drinking her in. “God I've missed you, Red.” “I've missed you too. Are you surprised? It was so hard not to tell you!” She told him with a smile that reached her eyes. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her close. “I'm totally surprised. Looks like I have that hot date for this Christmas Ball after all.” He winked. “You will be my date, right?” Stephanie laughed. “ I dunnooooo...I was thinking I'd let Drake escort me.” “Not a chance in hell, Stef. Drake's already got Pam. I still need a hottie to walk in with.” Maxwell feigned a whine. “Well, I suppose. I mean fair is fair.” She giggled. *************** “His majesty King Liam and Her majesty Queen Anitah, Duchess of Valtoria.” The herald loudly announced. Stephanie shifted her weight uncomfortably and gripped Maxwell’s hand a little tighter. “Hey, you alright?” He asked rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “Yeah. It's just, I didn't realize that I'd be announced or anything. I've never done this before and I'm kind of nervous. I don't like it when all eyes are on me.” Stephanie told him in a low tone. She cast her eyes to her feet, but Max lifted her chin with his thumb and index finger to look into her hazel eyes. “But that's where they should be. You're amazing, Stephanie. And tonight you're on my arm, so I want everyone to see just how lucky I am to have you here with me.” She gave him a weak smile as the herald continued. “The honorable Prince Leo and the Lady Alicia of New York.” Stephanie watched as the couple stepped through the ballroom doors arm in arm with wide smiles. She unlaced her fingers from Maxwell's, wiping her palm on her dress. “I'm sorry.” She whispered, cheeks flushing. “It's okay. I get sweaty palms too.” He laughed, re-capturing her hand. “Sir Drake Walker, Guardian of the Realm and the honorable Lady Pamela Walker.” Pam and Drake disappeared into the ballroom. “Lord Rashad Domvallier of Domvallier and Lady Genevieve of Illinois” Maxwell turned to Stephanie, taking her hand and draping it in his elbow. “We're up, Red.” He told her gingerly placing his lips to her temple. “Lord Maxwell Beaumont of Ramsford, Guardian of the Realm and the Lady Stephanie of Texas.” Maxwell proudly led her through the doors of the ballroom, pausing only a moment for the brief applause as they made their way toward Drake and Pam. The evening seemed to fly by in a whirlwind of champagne and waltzes. Stephanie felt like she was in a fairy tale of some sort; but the thing about fairy tales is they eventually end. She and Maxwell had scarcely let go of one another all evening. They both were silently afraid that if they stopped touching, even for a moment, the other may disappear. As if they would suddenly wake up from this dream they seemed to be walking through. The last of the guests were beginning to trickle out as the clock struck midnight. Stephanie gazed over the almost empty ballroom and sighed. “Merry Christmas, Maxwell.” She said without turning to face him. “Merry Christmas, Stephanie.I guess the evening is just about over, isn't it?” “I guess it is, but I'm not leaving until the new year. We still have time.” She smiled sweetly finally turning to look at him. He smiled back and have her hand a squeeze. “I can walk you to your room if you're ready, milady.” The couple walked slowly towards Stephanie's room, her arms around his waist, head nestled against his rib cage while his hugged her shoulders close. “This night has been spectacular, Max. I never imagined I'd ever be at party so fancy. I feel like Cinderella, now it's time for me to go turn back into a farm girl.” She joked as they approached her door. “ You'll still be a princess in my book.” Stephanie giggled, taking both his hands in hers as she stepped in front of him. Even in her 4” heels she was dwarfed by him, and she peered up into his eyes with just a hint of sadness. “It isn't just the fancy dress and the fancy party, or even that its Christmas eve, that have made tonight feel magical. It's you, Maxwell. After all these weeks of phone calls and texting…..and the amazing sexting…. I'm just...I'm so happy to finally touch you again.” He grazed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, tracing tiny figure eights. “I really wanna kiss you, Stef.” He told her, his tongue flicking out of his mouth to nervously wet his lips. “Well, Lord Beaumont, I've been waiting all night.” Maxwell gently cupped her cheek with his hand, his long slender fingers tangling in her strawberry blonde hair, still draped over her shoulder. He leaned in slowly, and after what felt like an eternity his lips finally found hers. Stephanie sighed softly into his lips, gently pulling his bottom lip in between her teeth as he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned into him and they stumbled a bit until his back landed softly against her door, Her hands planted firmly on his chest. Reluctantly she broke the kiss, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, the feeling of butterflies in her stomach at full force. “Will you come and see me tomorrow?” She asked, her eyes darting quickly over his face in anticipation. “Of course I will. And everyday until we figure out how this is going to work.” “What do you mean?” “There is no way in hell I'm letting you get away again, Stephanie. Either I'm going to Texas or you're staying here. Either way I never want to spend another night without you.” His thumb caressed her cheek as he spoke and her eyes seemed to sparkle. He kissed her lips once more. “That's a talk for tomorrow, perhaps. But I've dug in my heels on it. I want you to be mine.” Stephanie beamed up at him, firmly grasping her doorknob. “Good night then, Maxwell.” She twisted the knob and entered the room. “ Good night, sweetheart. I'll dream of you...again.” he told her. It took all of the strength in her body to close the door behind her and she sighed as she leaned against it. After a moment she flung her hands into the air, spinning and flinging the door open. “Maxwell!” She exclaimed, louder than was necessary as he had only taken a few steps from her doorway. He turned to face her, hands jammed in his pockets, and he quirked a questioning eyebrow. “I….I just wanted to say….” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth a moment inwardly debating her next words. “I... I love you, Maxwell Beaumont.” He smiled, taking wide steps back to her as his hands cupped her face once more and his lips crashed against hers fervently. “I love you too, Red.”

#cordonians gone wild #trr au #trr fan fic #cgw #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x stephanie #trr maxwell #king liam #liam x anitah #drake walker #drake x pam #trr rashad #rashad x genevieve #trr leo #leo x alicia

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charmedtheselfproclaimedking · 4 years

Text

Charmed Again: Season 3 (Charmed Fanfic)

Episode 7 - Spellbound Behind Bars

Warnings: I don’t own the rights to any of the characters from the hit TV show “Charmed” or the storylines related to the show those rights belong to original creator Constance M Burge.

15+ Moderate/Graphic Displays of Violence, Sexual Innuendos, Witchcraft and Potentially Triggering Scenes.

Returning home to find his murdered father and aunt in the foyer of the Halliwell Manor would’ve been more than traumatic for anyone never mind someone who had already witnessed the death of his adoptive parents and his birth mother and things were made worse when Drake was arrested by the police wrongly charged with the murder of Paul and Pan Halliwell luckily his daughter Lilah never witnessed any of this and was currently with her mother Cindy the only comforting factor in a terrible situation that had well and truly left Drake feeling broken.

Through the worst times of his life Drake Black always had one person by his side his best friend Lacey Morgan-Halliwell but after killing her wife and brother in law’s assassin she had been kind of lacking when it came to communication leaving Drake alone behind bars with no word on getting out as he began to believe he was going to spend the rest of his life in a maximum security prison for a crime he never committed fearing he’d never see his daughter again.

Drake sat within the courtyard of the maximum-security prison he found himself imprisoned by as he sat on the cold ground with his legs crossed and eyes closed attempting to meditate and picture himself anywhere but there without accidentally blinking there at the same time.

Sure Drake had the power to leave at any moment but he knew if he did that would raise far too many questions leaving him with no choice but to stay put and hope the elders would find a magical solution to make all this go away knowing that even if he got out of his prison there’d be no way of bringing back his father or aunt no matter how much he wished they weren’t gone.

“Yeah I wouldn’t do that if I were you this is my first bit of peace since I got dumped in this hell hole and if you try disturbing it you will deeply regret it.” Drake warned Joey Kane and his prison gang as he opened his eyes to see them approaching.

“I don’t know what your doing here but move it along to somewhere else.” Joey told the Halliwell hybrid as Drake stood up to face Jake and his friends.

“Yeah I don’t take answers from anybody let alone some thug who needs a pose to bark orders at everybody.” Drake snapped at him.

“You’ve got an awful big mouth, but I doubt you’re half as dangerous as they say.” Joey said while pulling a makeshift shiv out of his pocket.

Joey charged at Drake with his makeshift shiv in his hand only for Drake to quickly kick it out of his hands before kicking Joey to the ground as Drake proceeding in fighting with Joey’s prison gang leading to Drake flooring each one of them with ease proving he was more than able to take them all without any weapons other than himself.

“Next time you’ll know better than to interrupt a guy while meditating.” Drake scoffed at him before hearing his own named shouted from across the courtyard as prison guarder Salter marched over the courtyard in his direction and whacked Drake across the face with his baton making Drake fall to the ground.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Salter shouted at Drake. “One way or another I’ll make you follow the rules!”

Drake had found himself pulled into the prison warden Echo Jinx’s office within the maximum-security prison he had found himself residing in following his little showdown in the courtyard as he sat handcuffed in front of the warden who was sat behind her desk looking at him with her usual judgmental look on her face.

“So, you’ve found yourself in trouble again Mr Black it’s beginning to be something of a regular occurrence for you.” She said to him.

“Hey, I was just minding my own business taking up some good old-fashioned meditation and then those degenerates came and started I fight so I had no choice but to put them in their place.” Drake replied. “Did I mention that they had a shiv? Not my fault Salter only seems to jump in when it’s time to get handsy with me I’m pretty sure he’s got it bad for me.”

“I will look into filing an official complaint about prison guard Salter’s mistreatment of prisoners even though some of you clearly deserve a bit of tough love from time to time.” Echo informed him.

“Thanks, but no thanks Jinx I’d rather just take care of things myself whether or not it leads me back here.” Drake said making it clear he didn’t want her assistance.

“With more violent behavior no doubt.” Echo snapped. “Has your life always been violent Mr Black?”

Drake wanted to answer yes or at least reveal he had lived a violent life for quite some time now ever since his adoptive parents died in a fire he accidentally caused.

Since then he had vanquished several demons including his own grandfather and his daughter’s aunt and watched his own mother die before his very eyes and that was all before discovering his father and aunt dead in their family home.

To say Drake Black’s life had been a violent one would truly be an understatement.

“It’s hardly been the best life that’s for sure.” Drake answered her.

“I can help you…” Echo began to say.

“If you’re going to help anyone it should be Julian Parker.” Drake interrupted the warden. “He’s a big-time drug lord whose business hasn’t exactly stopped while in here and if you don’t put a stop to it, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“You do realize you shouldn’t be making threats in the prison warden’s office, right?” She asked him.

“Tick tock goes the clock. Time speed forward so I can be back in my block.” Drake quickly chanting making the nearby clock on the wall’s mechanics inside begin spinning around.

Drake found himself showering within the seemingly empty prison showers when he heard a door slam loudly making him switch off his shower and wrap his towel around his waste as he investigates the prison bathroom only to be left shocked to find Jake stood waiting for him wearing nothing but a towel himself.

“I take it you can just freely roam whenever you feel like it as long as you pay the guards enough.” Drake said to his prison nemesis. “I can’t decide whether it’s brave or stupid of you to come here alone after how I easily I just took you and your friends on earlier.”

“Let’s say I’m a bit of both,” Joey said seductively as he dropped his own towel and walked towards Drake before pulling Drake’s towel off him and kissing Drake on the lips.

Drake and Joey shared a smile between each other before Joey roughly pushed Drake up against a nearby wall as the two prisoners began passionately kissing each other before Joey turned Drake around to face the wall as he pushed himself up against Drake and began passionately kissing the Halliwell hybrid’s neck.

“They really don’t joke when they say prison food tastes like hell actually if I’m honest hell tastes better.” Drake joked as he sat in the canteen area within the prison while he ate what was considered his dinner, attempting to cheer up his friend Toby who was sat opposite him his body shaking and sweating from withdrawal symptoms.

“Tell me about it, Julian got busted and now I’ve got nowhere of getting anything, Drake please you got to help me!” Toby pleaded with his cellmate.

“Julian got busted wow what a shame wonder who tipped them?” Drake replied with a knowing smirk. “Toby it’s time we get you clean once and for all you got a wife and kid outside you need to be clean before returning to them or else you’ll only wind up back in here again and they won’t wait for you a second time around. Trust me when you have family you’ve got to try everything to keep them.”

“Your right man I know your right but I’m not sure I’m strong enough to go through this again.” Toby admitted to him.

“Luckily for you I have a little remedy that’ll kick the withdrawal symptoms ass and help you stay off the drugs for good.” Drake revealed. “It’ll be thanks enough not to put up with your addicted ass so don’t worry about owing me anything I don’t play those prison games.”

Toby smiled at Drake silently thanking him for his help as Drake noticed Jake and his prison crew walk over to their table before sitting down at their table with Jake sitting right next to Drake leaving Drake unsure of whether he was about to be stabbed or asked to join their group, not particularly wanting either to be true.

“I sure hope you’re not here for another beat-down because if so, I intend on making your injuries that much more fatal.” Drake warned them all while looking straight at Joey.

“We’re not here to start anything with you we learned the hard way so to speak not to mess with you Drake Black.” Joey replied with a grin on his face. “I suppose we should’ve known any guy who killed their own father and aunt in cold blood shouldn’t be messed with.”

“I’m innocent although I’m starting to wonder if the people who need to know that actually know it or not.” Drake stated, disgusted by the accusation of which he had found himself in jail for.

“Either way we’ll offering our friendship towards you whether you’re in here for a few weeks, months or the long haul we want to be your friends.” Joey told the Halliwell hybrid.

“Yeah I’ve not really bothered with many friendships since high school and she’s dead now so that doesn’t exactly bode well for any new friends.” Drake answered Joey.

“You’re a funny guy Drake,” Jake laughed. “How about you scratch our backs and we’ll scratch yours.”

“Okay then,” Drake replied, clearly finding some use for his new friends. “Let’s start this whole scratching thing now I need to get my hand on some items, and I don’t want to be asked why I need these items.”

“Consider it done friend.” Joey said with a sinister smirk.

The next day Drake forced Toby into joining him for his second attempt at meditation as they sat within the middle of the courtyard grounds legs crossed, eyes closed and meditating while noticing nothing butter utter silence a silence Drake knew was because of his new friendship with Joey Kane.

“My wife swears by meditation she’s going to be shocked when she hears somebody convinced me to meditate with them.” Toby said to Drake breaking their silence.

“Part of meditating is the silence,” Drake joked. “Trust me it’s not my sort of thing normally but if I stop trying to hold myself together and stay in each moment as they come then I’m afraid I’ll fall apart.”

“Well now your top dog around here you’ll get all the time in the world to meditate as you please.” Toby replied while opening his eyes.

“I had several dreams about being top dog in prison and I’ve got to say I prefer the dream world’s version to this reality.” Drake admitted as he opened his eyes to see Joey walking over to them both. “Well there goes the silence.”

“I got everything you asked for.” Joey declared before dropping a key onto Drake’s lap. “After lock-down meet me in the basement for the exchange.”

“I guess I’ll see you after lock-down then.” Drake responded with a smile before Joey quickly walked away from him and Toby.

“I don’t think he’s being helpful for the sake of it, Drake he’s clearly after something and I don’t think this supposed miracle remedy of yours is worth doing business with the likes of him.” Toby warned his friend. “The Kane family are notorious in San Francisco.”

“So is my family in certain circles and I can promise you Halliwell carries much more fear than Kane.” Drake boasted. “Beside if I’ve just been left here to rot, I may as well start making friends with those in for longer than you.”

“I’ll still visit you when I get out my wife and kid too their going to love you Drake.” Toby replied to him.

“Once you’re out of here don’t ever look back and if you wind up back in here, I’ll be kicking your ass!” Drake warned him.

“Well if I wasn’t certain I was going to stay clean before I’m certain I will no.” Toby admitted. “I’m going to miss you when I get out of here…I hope you do too one day.”

Drake cautiously walked downstairs and into the prison basement knowing there was a chance that this could be a trap but not too worried knowing a part demon part witch hybrid was more than enough to handle Joey and his friends even if he was no longer a charmed one.

“I’ve got to admit a part of me believed this was going to be some kind of trap.” Drake said as he found Joey standing waiting for him while holding a pillowcase filled with contraband.

“You’ve got to learn to trust more people sure we started a fight with you but you’ve earned our respect now although I’m the one who should be cautious with all the messed up things you told me to buy.” Joey replied to him. “What exactly are you planning to with all this anyway?”

“Seems like somebody already forgot the no questions asked part of our deal.” Drake reminded him as he walked over to Joey and took the pillowcase off his hands.

“Fine but it wouldn’t kill you to thank a guy for going to so much trouble.” Joey flirted with Drake as he grabbed a hold of his body and pulled the Halliwell hybrid towards him. “Unless last time was just a onetime thing?”

“I got advised to stay away from you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with you either.” Drake replied with a flirtatious smile.

“And are you going to…stay away?” Joey asked before Drake kissed him.

“I’m done listening to anyone’s advice.” Drake answered him before the two began passionately kissing.

“So, I’ve heard you’ve got yourself roped into the Kane family I’ve got to say that’s not quite what I was expected when I was sent down here to keep and eye on the Halliwell hybrid.” Echo revealed to Drake the next morning as he sat back in her office once more while she sat comfortably behind her desk.

“Ah now it makes sense why the prison warden has taken so much interest in me.” Drake scoffed. “So, what are you a white lighter, elder, demon or other?”

“I’m a white lighter the elders assigned me here after the tragic events which led to your wrongful incarceration I was advised to reveal myself sooner but my curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see how the half demon worked within prison confinements.” Echo told him. “The elders are working on your release as us some kind of supernatural police force to get you out of jail they’re just hitting a few bumps along the way.”

“Of course, they are because now the charmed ones are dead, I’m just back to be some demonic hybrid they don’t approve of.” Drake snapped. “Firstly, I would’ve been out by now if I were a charmed one and secondly you should’ve told me the minute you got here to save me thinking I’d never get out of this place! As if losing my father and aunt weren’t enough the least you could do is get me out this prison.”

“I admit keeping lip was a mistake on my part but trust me when I say you are still very much a top priority with the elders you see Drake Black you are still needed to restore the charmed ones just like you did before but this time with different charmed colleagues.” Echo replied to Drake leaving him stunned by her revelations.

“Being a charmed one is the reason I’m in here it’s the reason I have nobody left except my daughter who I can’t even see right now.” Drake scoffed at her. “There’s no chance in hell I’ll ever be a charmed one again.

“Being a charmed ones is also the reason you were reunited with your family that you had your daughter and why your best friend didn’t stay dead although the elders are thoroughly regretting that mistake now she’s running around killing people right left and center.” Echo informed the Halliwell hybrid.

“Hold up you mean she’s killed more people?” Drake asked in horror, realizing how far Lacey Morgan-Halliwell had fallen.

“She’s mostly hunting other witch hunters, but she has taken out a white lighter or too as well it’s safe to say nobody in the magical community is safe as long as she lives.” Echo answered him. “Which I’m sure will be easy enough for the charmed ones to handle once they have been reborn with your help.”

“Hell no!” Drake shouted while standing up. “Killer or not I’m not killing my best friend and as for being a charmed one I was done being the elders’ lackey the moment they didn’t show up to save my dad.”

“Drake,” Echo said as she took a deep sigh before standing up to face him. “I can’t begin to imagine what your going through not only grieving but imprisoned but imagine what your going through now and how you can stop others from suffering that same fate.”

“Yeah that’s not my problem.” Drake replied.

“I don’t believe you I mean you have every means to escape prison and yet you stay because you know breaking out whether your innocent or not is wrong just like being able to help people and choosing not to is wrong.” Echo argued with him before Salter knocked on the door before opening it.

“I need to take Mr Black back to his cell now Miss Jinx.” Salter informed the white lighter pretending to be a prison warden.

“Very well,” Echo sighed with frustration before lowering her voice to speak to Drake. “Please just think about what I’ve said.”

“I’m more interested in seeing how quick their going to work to get me out without the knowing of getting me as some kind of prize for them.” Drake made himself clear.

Drake walked into his prison cell relieved to see Toby sat on the bottom bunk drinking from a plastic cup which contained a potion Drake made to help erase Toby’s withdrawal symptoms and his addiction in the process.

“I don’t know what’s inside this mad remedy you made but I’m beginning to feel like a new man.” Toby praised his friend while continuing to drink.

“Just make sure you finish the entirety of it.” Drake reminded him.

“I will, don’t worry in fact I’ll do it right now.” Toby said as he down the rest of the potion and stood up to hug Drake. “I can’t thank you enough Drake you’re like some kind of wizard.”

“It’s okay you can thank me by getting out of here and not fucking up your second chance.” Drake laughed while Toby continued to hug him.

As Drake continued to hug the only real friend, he believed to have in the prison he noticed Joey walking past his cell looking far from happy to see Drake touching another man clearly believing it to be anything but innocent.

The very next morning Drake woke up about to learn a cruel lesson about getting close to anyone while in prison as he was once again thrown into a murder scene of someone he had found himself growing close to as a dreadful history continued to repeat itself for the troubled Halliwell hybrid.

“Toby if you don’t want some ugly ass prison guard with bad morning breath screaming in your face you better get up now.” A blissfully unaware Drake told his cellmate before jumping out of his bunk bed to be left shocked to the core when his feet landed in a pool of blood.

Drake’s face dropped as he looked on the bottom bunk to see a bloodied and lifeless Toby laid on the bed with his throat slit much to Drake’s horror as he found himself flashing back to finding his father and aunt in a similar state remaining frozen for a moment before beginning to shout louder and louder.

“Help somebody help!” He shouted repeatedly despite knowing in his gut that Toby was already gone. “Guards.”

Drake found himself sitting within an interrogation room handcuffed and chained to the table while his eyes were red raw from crying over the death of his cellmate still shaking from the shock of finding his cellmate dead knowing it must of happened while he slept believing the murderer was his latest terrible choice in men.

“Obviously the elders know you’re not guilty of this crime and after advising the right people about the Kane family’s history of murder we ran a few tests on your blood leading to the conclusion you had been drugged leaving in a deep sleep which is why you never woke up to your friend being murdered.” Echo revealed to him as she walked over to the table and sat opposite the chained Drake. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

“Hold up so your pretty much confirming Joey is behind all this?” Drake asked as his grief quickly turned to anger.

“Well I can’t exactly say for sure without checking in with the elders again, but I can honestly say I’d put good money on him!” Echo stated.

“Then I guess I’ve got a new bad guy to vanquish.” Drake declared. “And whoever helped him.”

“They’re not like the normal demons you vanquish Drake you can’t just vanquish them it’s not vanquishing when their human it’s murder.” Echo explained to a grieving Drake.

“What’s the use of being a witch and protecting the innocent when my friends, my family just get slaughtered one by one and I have to sit there and do nothing?” Drake snapped at the white lighter posing as a prison guard.

“Because there’s laws and a whole system in place to save humans from themselves granted they are flawed at best but that doesn’t mean we should take matters into our own hands we’re not gods.” Echo argued with him.

“That’s beyond hilarious coming from a woman whose real boss act like gods all the bloody time when all their just promoted white lighters considering most of them were wiped out years ago and saved by my own great-grandfather.” Drake continued to argue his point. “My god damn family has saved your asses time and time again but when it comes to saving us you are nowhere to be seen so don’t you dare sit there and tell me what I’m to do or not to do because I’m done listening to the lot of you!"

Drake had plenty of time alone in his new prison cell thinking whether to handle things the charmed way or the demonic way knowing the charmed way had only ever failed him whereas the demonic way was no less inhumane than the people who slaughtered his cellmate.

After a few hours after lock-down Drake found Salter opening his cell before ordering him out of bed and cuffing him as they escorted the Halliwell hybrid into the prison canteen to find Joey stood there waiting for him as Salter quickly made himself out of sight.

“I heard about your cellmate and by the looks of it you’re not exactly handling it very well.”

“I had a feeling you’d arrange a meeting with me sooner or later although I’m very surprised you chose the same day.” Drake said as he walked towards Joey before a knife blinked into his hand. “Killing my only friend in here was the worse place you ever made.”

“I never killed anyone Drake but I’m sure you’re not going to believe that given my family name.” Joey scoffed before Drake grab a hold of his hand slamming it down on a nearby table and pinning Joey’s hand to the table with his knife causing Joey to scream out in pain.

“Here’s the thing I’ve been lied to most of my life so when people lie to me it, kind of pisses me off.” Drake told him, as he contemplated murdering the man in front of him.

“I didn’t do it Drake,” Joey said in between screams of pain. “I don’t do over friends like that.”

“I don’t believe you!” Drake shouted as he twisted the knife launched in Joey’s hand.

“It’s probably some demon you stupid witch.” Joey screamed at him shocking Joey in the process as Drake instantly pulled the knife out of Joey’s hand as Joey fell to the ground his hand bleeding heavily.

“How do you know I’m a witch?” Drake asked him as he dropped the bloody knife to the ground, disgusted by what he had just done out of rage.

“I’m the guy who got your ingredients wasn’t hard to work out what you were after that.” Joey replied as he held on his hand trying to stop it from bleeding groaning in pain before Drake waved his hand and suddenly Joey’s hand was fully bandaged.

“Luckily for you I know how to bandage a perp from back when I was putting people in jail instead of locking them up.” Drake said as he helped a reluctant Joey back up to his feet. “So, you’re really telling me your innocent?”

“Screw you, you just stabbed me you psychopath and now you want to interrogate me.” Joey snapped at him. “Sure, I was jealous, but I don’t kill over jealousy I just break a few legs.”

“You know that’s problematic too right?” Drake laughed in response.

“Says the jackass who just stabbed me in the hand!” Joey replied before looking at his bandaged hand. “Although I’ve got to admit your powers are kind of cool.”

“I’m sorry for stabbing you I guess I have some anger issues after everything.” Drake apologized. “I can’t believe I almost killed me.”

“Please what’s a stabbing between friends?” Joey joked before going on to say. “For the record you wouldn’t have wound up killing me even if I did kill your friend, you’re not a murderer I’ve known murderers and trust me you’re not one of them.”

“I thought I could be for a moment but then I remembered that’s not who I am and it’s not who my father would ever want me to be.” Drake revealed to him. “Who all four of my parents would ever want me to be.”

“I have a theory Salter’s a demon I mean he’s had it in for you since you got here, and I’ve not seen him around until you showed up.” Joey explained his claim. “I mean I’ve never been a witch or a detective so you should probably do some digging but I’ve got a hunch and my hunches are rarely wrong.”

“You know you should probably listen to the guy he’s not entirely stupid for a thug.” Salter suggested after shimming into the canteen.

“Good it’s a demon, demons I can kill without feeling like a murderer.” Drake said with a sigh of relief. “Which I suppose is kind of messed up considering I’m half demon.”

Salter suddenly summoned an energy ball above his hand before throwing it in Drake’s direction who waved his hand to blink the energy ball out of sight before it reappeared hitting Salter and sending him flying across the air before ending up laid on the floor. Before Salter could get back on his feet Drake waved his hand once more setting the demon on fire and watching him burn before exploding in front of him and Joey.

“Remind me to never piss you off again.” Joey joked with Drake.

“Got to admit that felt much better than murdering you would’ve done.” Drake laughed.

Later that day Drake walked back into Echo’s office within the prison no longer wearing any prison clothes or handcuffs instead looking like himself once again in his own clothes much to Echo’s delight.

“So, you vanquished a demon instead of murdering a human.” Echo said with a sense of smug in her voice. “I guess this means despite everything you’re still more charmed than demonic.”

“I’ve been stuck in here longer than needed to take out that demon, haven’t I?” Drake scoffed at the white lighter masquerading as a prison guard. “God even when I’m grieving the elders still have me doing their dirty work to the lengths, they kept me imprisoned until now once I did what they wanted.”

“What can I say the elders have their way of doing things sometimes it’s not for you or me to understand.” Echo replied, admitting Drake was right.

“You’re not like most white lighters, now are you?” Drake asked her.

“Actually, I am you charmed ones just seem to get special treatment from all your previous white lighters and look where’s that got you! The second generation of the charmed ones lasted three years.” Echo snapped at him. “I’m around to make sure the next charmed ones don’t wind up the same way.”

“Wow you’ve definitely got a way of words!” Drake replied before taking a deep sigh. “Let me talk to Quinn!”

Echo nodded in acceptance before orbing out of the room only for Quinn to orb into the room seconds later.

“Hey how are…” Quinn began to say before getting punched in the mouth by Drake.

“How dare you put me through all of this after everything I’ve been through?” Drake shouted at his former elder. “How dare you not save them and leave me to find their bodies? How could you let them keep me here?”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t my decision I voted against this, but the other elders thought it would help remind you who you are at a time when you needed it most.” Quinn revealed to him.

“So, once again you chose everyone else but me but this time it’s unforgivable.” Drake told him with tears in his eyes. “You let me lose memories of my mother when I was grieving her, you went off to chase your dream of being an elder instead of helping get me back and now you let your colleagues or whatever the hell you want to call them dump me in jail after I lost my family a family that took you in too.”

“I’ve apologised for that over and over again what more do you want from me?” Quinn asked him.

“I wanted you to be there for me you know how much it killed me losing my parents losing Eve and yet you weren’t there when I lost them.” Drake cried. “All I ever wanted was for you to choose me over everything else and yet you never did…you never will.”

“I still love you don’t ever think I’ve ever stopped loving you.” Quinn declared with tears in his eyes.

“That’s not enough,” Drake replied as he dried his tears. “Now that I’m free to go I’m going to do just that.”

“What about Charmed?” Quinn asked before Drake blinked away.

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brazen-kenobi · 7 years

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destiel/cockles fic rec

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) by almaasi

Summary: On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy's uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man's preferences a secret. It's 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn't know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel's story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

The Mirror by Cloudyjenn

Summary: When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

The Request by Cloudyjenn

Summary: When Sam Winchester prays for his brother, Castiel is finally sent on his very first assignment. But what should be a simple love match turns into much more and Castiel finds himself risking everything to ensure the happiness of his extremely frustrating charge.

(Dis)Affection by justkeeponwriting

Summary: When Dean and Castiel are tricked to go on a date, neither is happy about this. To get back at their deceitful friends, they hatch the perfect plan: pretend to be dating, and gross out their friends with their over-the-top, disgustingly cute romantic relationship – and then break up in the most despicable manner imaginable. As it turns out, you can learn a lot from someone just by pretending affection.

On The Other Side by crowleyhasfeels and QuillsAndInk

Summary: While deployed in Afghanistan, Dean Winchester writes letters to a girl who he's certain isn't listening. By chance, they are found by Professor Castiel Novak who takes the time to reply. Thus begins an unlikely friendship between two lonely souls who have nothing to lose and everything to give.

A Beast’s Perspective by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me

Summary: Dean has told Benny a lot of things. The two had come to be close. They didn't lie to each other ... well except for once.

Our Life Through Your Eyes by destihellion

Summary: They’re 4 years old when Dean tells his mother he’s going to marry Castiel. (My notes - this is cruel and very fluffy and I cried a lot)

In The Almost by Sir_Kingsley

Summary: Nine years ago, Dean Winchester ran away from the love of his life. Now he's back in the States for his little brother's wedding and has to face Cas for the first time since he left. He's expecting awkwardness or anger from Cas, not to be sucked right back into the effortless friendship they'd built nearly a decade ago. Dean can't help but start to see the opportunity for a second chance with Cas, to give Cas everything that he deserves. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Cas deserved the world and all Dean had to offer was a bad heart.

Borderlines by domesticadventures

Summary: When they were gone, Cas hadn’t known where else to go. Now that they’re back, he isn’t sure he’s allowed to follow them inside. (contains spoilers for 12.09)

Cooking With Gas by Winjennster

Summary: Castiel Novak has it all. He's rich, famous, has a top rated cooking show and restaurant, drives an expensive car and wears Armani. His producer throws a contest to spend a day with Chef Novak, cooking and learning techniques. Castiel wants no part of it, but Balthazar insists and Castiel will do as expected. What Castiel wasn't expecting was to fall head over heels for the winner. Dean Winchester hasn't had a successful relationship in his 34 years on Earth. He's got a past he'd like to keep hidden, and his life rotates around his family and his business. Winning a contest to spend a day with his favorite TV chef is a shock, but a welcome diversion from his day to day life...until he meets the guy, and he turns out to be a big jerk. Dean figures he should have expected that. What he wasn't expecting was that same gorgeous blue-eyed man to sweep in and shake up his entire world.

Get Some by sysrae

Summary: Very slowly, Dean turns. 'How'd you know I was here about a room?' 'Power of deduction,' says Castiel, leaning against the doorway. 'I mean, you're not after pot, and I'm pretty sure we haven't slept together.' He grins wolfishly, gaze sliding over Dean's body. 'You, I'd remember.' Dean's been hit on by guys before, but never so blatantly, let alone by a semi-naked dude in a kimono. A hot blush warms his cheeks, and he covers his shock with cockiness, tilting his head and grinning. 'Sorry to disappoint you, Cas, but I don't swing that way.' Castiel throws back his head and laughs. 'And you want to live here? What, did your friends put you up to this?' 'Actually, yeah.' Dean raises an eyebrow. 'Is that a problem for you?'

Our Sweet Rapture by Chiyume

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong leaves Sam transfigured and Castiel drained of his grace, Dean is not only left to tend to them both, but for some reason also finds himself having involuntarily and graphically inappropriate thoughts about the angel in question. Now, if only Cas could stop getting so close to him all the time, maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on? (my notes - this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. I love it when you can feel the characters emotions.)

Confiteor by orange_crushed

Summary: "I have a job," he says, carefully, like Dean is not intimately fucking aware of that situation. Like Dean hasn't been googling grim statistics on gas station robberies and watching clips from Clerks on YouTube for the last few weeks like a sad dumb jerk. "Yeah," Dean says. "I know." He's mangled the check in his hand; he puts it on the table and irons out the wrinkles with his palm. "I got it."

Too Long by dshep33

12x23 coda. Don’t read if you didn’t watch it, unless you want major spoilers.

Night Exhibition by almaasi

Welcome to the world's most generic museum. In the café, you'll find Dean, putting dinosaur cut-outs on his award-winning apple pies. In the gift shop, you'll find his snarky yet devastatingly handsome friend Castiel, folding t-shirts for a living. But Castiel has a second job as a night watchman, patrolling the marble halls and protecting the museum exhibits after dark. One night, Dean asks to tag along. He could never resist a crisp blue uniform, and he'll take any opportunity to have his friend show it off. It might take all night, one dance, and a playful sex act (or five) in a few unusual places around the museum before either of them realise... maybe Dean's interest was never about the uniform. And maybe their friendship was already something else.

Satin and Sawdust by Ltleflrt

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head.

Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend.

But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass by ireallyhatecornnuts

AU after Season 8, episode 6, "Southern Comfort." Dean goes to sleep in a motel room in Texarkana, and he wakes up 17 years old, in his childhood bedroom in Lawrence, Kansas, 1996. He has no idea how he got there, why his parents are still alive, why his brother is an adorable freshman with no memory of his adult life, and why the only ally he has in this place is the angel he left behind in Purgatory – somehow also 17 years old. They have to get out, that's the important thing. Only, falling in love with his angel wasn't a part of the plan....

The Exception to Every Rule by MittenWraith

When Sam was accepted to Stanford, he finally convinced Dean to move to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams after sacrificing for four years to support Sam throughout high school. Dean never imagined landing the starring role in a Hollywood blockbuster film franchise, but in just two years he’d gone from obscurity on the Lawrence Community Theater stage to become one of the fastest rising stars in the country. He's adapting pretty well to this new life in the spotlight-- until one unhealthily obsessed fan prompts Dean’s agent to hire a specialist from Seraphim Security to watch over him.

Enter Castiel, one of Seraphim’s newest “Angels,” and the only one available to take on Dean’s case a week before Christmas. With Dean’s life on the line, Castiel does his best to maintain a professional distance, but with every passing day they’re both finding themselves making more and more exceptions to their rules.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

Method Acting (Or ‘In Which Misha Is Not, In Fact, Kidding Jensen’) by HigherMagic

There's a little surprise in the script for the latest episode, Misha is unruffled, and Jensen is not amused, but he's determined to put on the best damn performance he can, 'cause it's the last season and, hey, he owes it to Dean.

Heartland by Kalliel

To love the Winchesters means probably, today, to leave them.

Because I'm surely not the only one who heard Sam say This is everything Cas dug up in Gaza, every last bit of prebiblical lore and wondered how Castiel got there, and how long he plans to stay. Tag to 11x07 “Plush”; implied spoilers for 11x08 and 11x09.

Her Favorite Love Story by destieldrabblesdaily

The story of Dean and Castiel as seen through Mary Winchester's eyes; AKA how she witnesses her oldest son fall in love with his best friend.

Shakes-Queer: A Comedy by ozonecologne (also on tumblr as @ozonecologne)

"I’ve never talked to you before but the teacher just used us as an example for a scenario where we are married" AU.

(Conveniently, a comedy usually ends in marriage.)

Breathe Lighty by nhixxie

"To my first love, and my last, Dean Winchester. These are the things I want to tell you: the human body is 60% water. The number of neurons in one person is the rough equivalent of the number of stars in a small galaxy. There is 0.2 milligrams of gold in your blood. The heart is an elaborate engine. I love you."

(Thanks to @kinvgslayer for suggesting this to me. She just really wanted me to cry. And I did.)

#destiel fic #destiel fic rec #deancas fic rec #deancas #casdean #dean winchester #castiel #cas #cass #castiel novak #supernatural #spn #fic rec #i will try to update this regularly #i will also do a tbr (to be read) list #supernatural 12x23 #12x23 coda

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