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#rip cross's non existant balls
starrystevie · 9 months
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steve's desperate, okay?
he's officially running late for his first date with linda because he couldn't find his car keys and the shirt he wanted to wear just wasn't working so he had to grab something out of his hamper and throw it on blindly which then messed up his hair and he almost forgot to brush his teeth again but remembered as he opened the front door and-
he only realizes he forgot to put on cologne once he makes it halfway to her house and smells himself. the shirt from the hamper smells stale, not bad, just stale. and steve in his normal, non-rushed state wouldn't have noticed because his trusty calvin klein would have covered it up but today is apparently not a day for things to go right.
with a sigh of frustration, steve pulls into the hook's drugstore a little too quickly and it makes his stomach lurch the tiniest bit before sliding into an open parking sport at the front door. he rushes in, pushing the door open with too much force and books it to the fragrance aisle.
"this is so fucking stupid," he mutters to himself, unable to be heard by any surrounding shoppers over the annoyingly loud jingle playing through the speakers.
steve skids to halt in front of the cologne section, crouching down and scanning quickly over the tester bottles for obsession. once he spots the amber bottle, he yanks it towards himself, spraying as much as he can onto his chest given the awkward angle he's at. as he stands back up, steve pulls his shirt collar up towards his nose and the ball of nerves in his stomach loosens at the familiar smell. he may be late but he feels like he's back in the game.
checking his watch, he sees just how late he is and makes a beeline for the door, nearly running into an older lady with far too many rolls of toilet paper in her tiny arms. as he dodges around her and extends his arm to push open the door, he hears a loud voice over the intercom.
"you're not going to buy anything after stealing cologne?"
steve stops, freezes where he is and frantically turns his head around to spot the cashier grinning at him. he has long hair and a bright red hook's drugstore vest over a denim vest which doesn't look very comfortable. he has chains in his jeans and handcuffs holding his belt closed and a smirk that is trying to kill him and oh-
"wait, stealing cologne?" steve shakes himself back into existence as the old lady pushes by him without dropping a single roll on the way back to her car. "you're going to call me putting on a few sprays stealing?"
the cashier's smile just gets bigger, like a cat hunting down a canary. steve's never felt like a canary before but can't deny that it's an exciting feeling.
"well, on a good day i wouldn't. but i'm bored and you didn't buy a single thing so technically, yes. you're stealing, pretty boy."
steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and put his hands on his hips, so instead he crosses them over his chest, cologne wafting up from the movement and reminding him that he doesn't have time for this no matter how cute the cashier may be.
he makes his way over to the counter, grabs a pack of gum and slams it on the counter. without breaking eye contact with eddie, as his nametag suggests, he throws him a salty smile of his own and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket.
eddie's eyes are a deep brown with a glimmer of something behind them and his hands are covered in rings making his fingers look long and strong. the jeans he has on are ripped on one of the the thighs, showing a hint of a tattoo to match the ones crawling up his arms. steve's no stranger to thinking men are attractive but this guy? he's on a new level. his heart thumps painfully in his chest when eddie's grin grows larger as he watches steve give him a once over. it thumps even harder when eddie gives him a once over of his own.
the clock above the register shows that he's officially 20 minutes late to picking up... laura? lisa?
no, linda. damnit.
eddie looks down at the gum and then back up at steve, quirking up an eyebrow. "i hardly think this monetarily equates to a bottle of cologne but-"
"oh come on!" steve huffs. eddie laughs and it's clear and bright, ringing off the cinderblock walls louder than the annoying jingle that's still playing. whatever fight steve may have had left in him drains away at the sound and suddenly he isn't thinking about the clock anymore. he feels his shoulders fall down to a more relaxed state, feels himself shift his weight on his feet to look more natural than ready to run at a moments notice.
"just kidding, man." eddie rings up the gum quickly and hands it back to steve. "sorry, you looked like you were in a rush. i shouldn't have created a scene just because i'm bored."
steve chuckles. "i'm already supremely late for my date so what's another five minutes. especially if it gets me..." he looks at the gum packet to look at what he even picked up in the first place. "... spearmint freshen-up gum."
"well there you go," eddie says, grin smaller than before, "a perfect thing to get for a date. everyone likes their date to be minty fresh for that first kiss."
it strikes somewhere in steve that he isn't expecting. the beemer is still out in the parking lot running so he didn't have to waste time, his watch on his wrist feels heavy, the scent of obsession overpowering. but he can't make himself move. he wants to stay and talk to eddie, wants to learn about what makes him tick.
"can i borrow your phone?" steve asks. eddie's eyebrows furrow but he reaches for the store phone and places the console on top of the counter.
"for what?"
steve look through his wallet, finding the piece of paper with linda's number on it. holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he dials in her number and holds his pointer finger up at eddie, signaling that he'll need a second. steve then brings the finger to his lips and shushes with his cheek pulling up in a smirk. eddie's eyes zero in on the motion and it feels like steve's gone from being the canary back to the cat.
"linda? hey it's steve."
he watches as eddie mouths steve back at him and then nods to himself when he gets the confirmation that it is indeed his name. steve throws him a wink for good measure.
"i know i'm late and i'm really really sorry to cancel last minute but-. oh. yeah, sure. have a good time. okay bye li-."
on the other end of the line, linda slams down the phone without waiting for steve to finish talking and it makes him wince with how loud it is in his ear. he gives eddie a sheepish smile, all toothy and guilt-ridden, and gently puts the receiver back down.
"what was that?" eddie asks with a disbelieving look on his face. steve shrugs.
"she got tired of waiting so she already had another guy lined up to come pick her up."
eddie sucks in air through his teeth and mimes getting shot in the heart. it has steve laughing as he falls over on the counter, hair covering his face. he turns his head to peer up at steve through the curtain of curls, the one brown eye that's visible twinkling in the harsh overhead light.
"was it true love? are you just absolutely heartbroken?"
steve thinks about it for less than a second. watches how eddie curls back up one vertebrae at a time before placing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. watches how eddie's eyes flit between his own and his lips. watches how he focuses on the latter for a little while too long.
"why would i be heartbroken," steve starts. he's being too forward, too brash, but with eddie looking at him that way, he knows he can be. "when you'll probably be on break soon and can make it up to me? you know, for making me even more late and all."
eddie's grin grows wide again. "oh really?"
steve shrugs once more with a playful look of consideration on his face, resting on his elbows to match eddie on the counter. "yes, really. this is your payback for being bored and taking it out on me."
it's later when eddie's on break and steve hasn't left the drugstore in over an hour and they're sitting in his car with bowie playing through the speakers that eddie looks up at him with a look steve knows well.
"you do smell really good, y'know." his voice is softer than steve's heard it all day.
"so are you glad i came in to steal cologne?" steve leans closer over the center console to get into eddie's personal space. there's a hand curling over his bicep and pulling him even closer, their faces only centimeters apart.
"i guess i'll let it slide this time, thief."
and when they kiss for the first time, it tastes like the freshen-up gum they both had been nonstop chewing ever since steve paid for it.
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jstarr86 · 6 months
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DRUNK IN LOVE
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I sighed watching with trepidation as my very much intoxicated husband got ready to go out for a press conference. His new tag partner barely and I mean barely less inebriated than my husband.
“God your gonna get in trouble, both you.” I said getting Josh to take a sip of water a goofy smile crossing his face, eyes glossy. His hands sliding around my waist gripping my butt. He was clearly as horny as he was intoxicated and Cody snickering behind us didn’t help.
“Look Paul we’ve done a bit of celebrating on the bus, we’re just a little intoxicated.” Cody said.
“A little.” The older man replied with a smirk and shake of his head.
“Josh your boss is right there stop coping a feel.”
“I can’t help it you fine as fuck I ain’t got no pussy in a month I’m horny and wanna fuck my wife.” He said nipping my ear.
“You have work.” I said pushing him back. He was always horny and had a high sex drive but combine that with extended time apart and drinking and Josh was a handsy little frea . Cody was a giggle ball as I tried to pry my husband off me. After their win they were on Cody’s bus celebrating and drinking and while yes I was tipsy I was not on their level. Josh practically dry humping me in front of Cody with no care.
20 MINUTES EARLIER
“Baby chill.” I said moving back and pushing my husband. His lips and tongue sucking and biting on my neck causing me to bite my lip to contain my composure and not moan. He had no chill right now hands all over me.
“Mmm but you smell good, and look good and taste good.”
“Joshua. We aren’t alone.”
“He’s a handsy drunk huh, I’d be the same if Brandi wasn’t home.” Cody said taking another shot handing me one and setting Josh’s down as his hands were on me.
“I ain’t seen her in a month, you kno how it go.” Cody chuckled.
“Well at least you get a happy ending tonight my friend all I’m getting is my hand. Sorry.” Cody said as his words sunk in and he realized he’d spoken out loud. He got up going to the bathroom as Josh pulled me to straddle him, hands on my ass that he gripped rolling his hips up into mine. His ring gear pants not hiding his obvious hard on at all. They already were tight as hell. His lips on my skin sucking gently
“I want you so bad.”
“Josh.”
“Tell me you don’t want me, I know you do, bet that shit wet ain’t it.”
“Joshua.” I felt the smirk on his lips as my voice didn’t come out as defiantly as I wanted. I missed him just as much as he clearly missed me but he gave no fucks right now about anything than clearly fucking me. I moaned as his fingers rubbed me from outside but expertly finding my clit. He slid a hand up my shirt cupping my breast through the lace covering them. He pulled back tugging his merch shirt over my head practically ripping it. His eyes ghosted over my body as his eyes darkened with lust.
“Fuck.” He eagerly kissed, tongue trailing every where he could as he sat up more arms wrapped around me as he lifted his head as a moan passed my lips as he bit my nipple thru the fabric. His lips meeting mine as his tongue invaded my mouth in a sloppy yet passionate kiss hands sliding into the back of my pants gripping my ass in his hands. “Mmm you wet.” He growled as I suckled his pulse point. “I need you mammas.”
“Woah.”
“Oh my god.”
“Shit.” Josh said hands holding me firmly against him “sorry uce we um ima just go back here for a little.” He said standing with me in his arms before walking down the small non existent hall and into a bunk shutting the curtain. My head buried in his neck not even looking up as embarrassment flooded my body.
“I can’t believe you, that’s embarrassing.”
“He ain’t see anything”
“He ain’t stupid Josh.” I said fingers running over his scalp. Now that he was on top of me weight settled between my legs Josh had us cramped in the small space as he sucked a path from my neck to my bare chest. “Josh.” I said softly
“Let me have you baby.” Fuck I sighed, it was hard to ever deny Josh, especially when I missed him just as much both physically and intimately. He took the split second of silence as ok as he quickly lifted as much as he copied dragging the tight leggings and jerking them and my underwear off tossing them as he tossed my leg over his shoulder, lips kissing my thighs. I gasped exhaling a moan as his tongue touched me hands wrapping around my thighs insuring I didn’t go anywhere as he devoured me like a starved man.
“Josh.” He moaned sending vibrations through as I gripped his hair, silky strands that were still damp with water and conditioner even though his match was hours ago. Leg’s already shaking as he brought me to the edge of ecstasy with that dangerous ass mouth of his.
“Let go mama cum for me.” Josh growled out. He knew me well enough by now that he knew I was close. But quickly buried my face in the pillow moaning out his name as I came
“Ute we got like five minutes.” Cody called from the front. Josh lifted up kissing his way up my body.
“Woman after this conference is over I’m beatin this shit up all night. Mmm.” He said sloppily kissing me. “Tasting all good and shit. Wanna feel you cum on my dick like that.”
NOW
I shook my head unable to hold the laughter as I watched them. Cody honestly coming clean as he sat down immediately saying they’d been drinking. Both laughing and not staying focused, especially Josh. I tried to tell him he didn’t need it but when brown got in his cup he was fucked and knowing the bottle of Dusse was empty meant Josh was turnt.
He’s wasted sis I looked at my phone as a message popped up from my brother in law.
They been drunk, tried to tell them both but ya kno how Josh is on the brown
Take care of him love y’all
Love u too looking up at the bark I chuckled. Both forgetting questions and rambling and Josh acting like he’d never held a title before as they wouldn’t stay on his shoulders. At least their boss wasn’t mad he was laughing.
“Well they broke the internet.” I said as his boss looked at me.
“I think you’re right but I don’t see backlash yet it’s all just how hilarious they are. How much have they had?”
“There’s a empty dusse bottle on the bus.”
“What’s that?”
“Like Hennessy but better.” He nodded shaking his head as they finally finished. Josh barking and saying yeet almost every other word and then getting Cody in it. They walked back both laughing and leaning on each other before Josh wrapped his arms around me head buried in my neck kissing me hands grabbing my ass as I pushed him back. “Behave Joshua.” Id became much more sober and getting back to the bus my husband and his tag partner started drinking again and Josh handed me a cup. Dr Pepper and he got a little heavy handed with the dusse cause I took a drink and pulled back pausing looking at the cup, this tasted like straight liquor and if his cup was like this he was gonna need Tylenol and Gatorade in the morning. Main One by Mario was blaring out of the bus speakers, I felt bad for this driver Cody had a good one cause man I wouldn’t be driving this shit with their loud asses. Josh had me pulled against him dancing until we both slightly fell and Cody laughed as liquid sloshed out of our cups as the driver hit a bump. Josh groaned as I landed roughly in his lap but he didn’t let me get hurt the grip on my waist tightened.
“You good.”
“I’m fine.” We stayed seated my hips rolling against his hardening length as I danced in his lap.
“How long have you guys been married?” Cody asked loudly.
“8 years.”
“We met in school uce saw her freshman year and man she was fine as shit, I had scoop her ass up.”
“Wow that sounded so romantic Joshua.” I said smirking and rolling my eyes
“I mean it’s true almost broke my neck when I saw you. Had shoot my shot. And she was a cheerleader so every game she was there, had my number on her face. My cheerleader.” He replied leaving a wet kiss on my cheek. “Mmm, you sexy.”
“Wait you been together since high school like freshman that’s what 14?”
“Yup.”
“My first my last my only right here uce, yeet.” I rolled my eyes at his words I hated him and Jon always saying yeet they had matching hoodies I got them a few years ago that said it. I finished my drink feeling that buzzed feeling back in my system. “I should call uce.”
“No you need to let both of them sleep, I already talked to Jon he sends his love.”
“When you talk to uce?”
“When your drunk ass was doing a press conference he messaged said you was wasted and to take care of you and he loves you.” I gasped as Josh grabbed my breast my eyes meeting Cody’s who was only sitting across from us. “I’m so sorry. He has no filter when he’s drunk.”
“I’m married I know how he feels when the last time you saw one another?”
“Month ago. So combined with a drunk extremely horny Josh this is what that equals.”
“I’d probably be the same if my wife was here, I mean she will be tomorrow for a few weeks but then I won’t see her until after Germany.”
“That’s why I wanted her here the week uce, cause we got Germany I’m going home for a day for Halloween then hitting the road again until what close to Thanksgiving. Hardest part of this is not being around her or the boys.”
“Your making them a good life baby stop complaining.”
“I’m only complaining that I’m not in them guts yet Ma.” I shook my head giggling at him. “Matter fact get up we going to bed over here grindin all up in my dick to this music. Later uce.”
“Have a good night.” Cody said tipping his cup to Josh who quickly downed the rest of his second glass, practically dragging me to the bunks. He looked at me as I got in.
“All that shit off now.” He said pulling off his clothes
“You just gonna get-“
“Off wifey.” Josh said tossing the crop top and his gear pants in the bunk across from us taking mine too. He was in Versace boxers as he got in the bunk shutting the curtain and smashing his lips to mine as he pulled my legs around his toned waist. He’d left his bottom grillz in the metal warm yet still cold as he slid the fangs protruding against my pulse point hands caressing from my thigh to my beast and back. I felt him move as much as he could tugging off his boxers before roughly sliding inside me as I moaned in his mouth his groan following as he kept his hand on my ass pulling me into him as he thrusted hard into me. I hissed in pain as he made my head hit the small part of wall behind me and he looked up dark eyes before his hand was over it making sure I didn’t get hurt
“Sorry.” Before I could respond a moan left my mouth. I felt slightly overwhelmed such a small enclosed space and completely surrounded by Josh. Combined with the sense of floating it was a bit much for me. “Fuck you feel so damn good.” He groaned swirling his hips as I gasped his name nails raking into his back. Sex with Josh always amazing and always long but drunk Josh you had about 20 minutes before he’d be busting a nut and passing out. He was grunting the sound heavy in my ear with his breath as he sucked and kissed on my neck swirling his tongue and nipping the spot that drove me insane as I arched into him. “Mmm my pussy feels so good don’t it.”
“Mmm.”
“Daddy’s in that ain’t he.”
“Josh.”
“Mmmm you getting tight fuck come for daddy baby,.” Josh pushed my legs bending it up as much as he could towards my chest as he dug my ass out in the small space. I never would have thought this would work but I shouldn’t have put it past him especially drunk. “Gotdamn.” He reached a hand down finger expertly rubbing and tugging at my clit making my orgasm rise fastly.
“Mmm Josh, I’m close.” He went harder and I knew I was about to explode as I gasped clutching his sweaty body to me. “Daddy.” I moaned in his ear as I came nails scratching down his back as my legs shook. Josh groaned out pumping wildly four more times before cumming with a groan of my name. He collapsed on top of me as I ran my hand over the back of his neck. He rolled to his side pulling me into his arms.
“Mmm wait til I get you in that hotel and I can fuck you like I want, you in for it.” He yawned out “I love you.” He lazily said
“I love-“ I heard his heavy breath and saw even in the dark he’d passed out as I sighed taking out his grill as he groaned and I put it in the box he had. “Love you too.” I said snuggling into his warmth as I used my foot grabbing up the sheet to at had gotten stuffed at the bottom of the bunk during his fuck sesh. I closed my eyes sleep coming quickly, knowing I’d have two hungover guys to deal with in the morning.
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bbrocklesnar · 8 months
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fashionably late
words: 3.2k
rating: E
warning/s: unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling
notes: starter piece for the horror bang exchange hosted by @detectivelokis and also features her own RE ship Albert with her OC and the loml Charlie.
There was a hesitant knock on the other side of the bathroom door.
“Hey, baby, uhm…" came Jack's muffled voice. "Because you asked me to give you a time check, there’s ten minutes until the party.”
Sydney’s brown eyes widened as big as saucers as she just finished putting her lipstick on, looking herself over in front of the fancy hotel bathroom mirror. 
“Yep, yep, yep,” she emphasized the last ‘P’ with a pop, puckering up her lips to set the lipstick.
She hastily fixed her short chocolate brown hair, ticking off in her head if she needed to do anything else in the bathroom before she-
Goddamnit I forgot to brush my teeth.
Ehh, breath spray will do for now.
Sydney was usually on time for parties, and was lowkey annoyed whenever one didn’t start on time just because they were missing a few guests still. 
So, because it was her and the universe liked its jokes, she just had to be late to the party of both Jack’s boss, and her very own bestie.
It was their housewarming party for Umbrella higher-ups. 
Well, more like a mansion than a house, really. 
And a ball instead of a party. 
Albert had bought a rather extravagant new home for his family after the birth of the new Uroboros virus he developed with TRICELL. The company was so satisfied with the potential alone that they paid him a hefty sum in advance. 
After everything her best friend, Charlie, had gone through in Europe with the whole Las Plagas incident, she and the kids deserved a beautiful home away from anything virus or zombie related.
So yes, Sydney was not going to be late to her best friend’s party.
Well, not later.
It was her own damn fault too. The large bathtub just had to be the most comfortable thing ever - bubbles and everything! - that she ended up soaking longer than usual. She even said no when Jack playfully suggested that they take that bath together, when he saw her already naked and lathering. 
“Did you just say no?” He had asked, looking more shocked than disappointed.
“Right? That’s how good it is. Later, baby, promise!” She replied, feeling like she was in absolute heaven, as the lavender aroma of the bath bomb soothed every one of her senses, relaxing her from head to toe.
Every time Jack reminded her of how close it was getting to party time, she always said ‘five more minutes’ like a spoiled kid. 
It was only when her phone chimed beside her and she got a text from Charlie saying ‘Can’t wait to see you!’, and saw the time on the screen that she practically jumped out of the tub to prepare.
So now here she was, just finished hastily getting ready for a party that was in ten minutes, but was around a thirty-minute drive away, even with Jack’s considerable skills. 
She huffed out a breath in front of the mirror, extremely proud of herself for dressing up and putting on makeup in a record amount of time. 
It was a really pretty gown too. A basic strappy and backless blush pink gown, low-cut for her practically non-existent cleavage. 
When she was done inspecting herself, she finally opened the bathroom door, and quickly crossed the room to find her clutch and necklace on the small desk. 
She was so focused on her goal that she only vaguely registered Jack sitting on the bed in his black pants and white dress shirt that looked just about ready to rip apart if he moved his huge arms too much. 
He looked incredibly handsome and now she was regretting not letting him take that bath with her.
If they had time to spare, maybe-
Nope, Syd. Nope, nope, nope. Best friend waiting for you. Stay strong!
“Hope all that time in the tub was worth…” she heard Jack behind her as he suddenly trailed off. She was completely expecting him to be smug about her being the cause of their tardiness, so she was surprised when said smugness just stopped.
She turned around to see if maybe he got a text from Wesker or something, but found him staring at her with wide icy blue eyes and his jaw practically on the floor. 
He shook his head as soon as their gazes met, as if he broke himself out of a trance. 
“Syd, baby,” his husky voice was hoarse and fuck, her own throat was getting dry just hearing him like that. “You look… goddamn how did I get so lucky that a gal like you took an asshole like me back, huh?” 
Her face flushed with warmth at the softness and sincerity of his words, while her heart ached as she was reminded of the nightmare they both went through to get to where they were now.
All the secrets he kept from her for as long as they were together that first time, even refusing to tell her more about Umbrella even after the Los Illuminados captured her as insurance against him. Their inevitable break up because of all of that…
She pushed that blackhole of thoughts away. 
That was over. They were ok now. 
She smiled at him, noticing his dress shirt was only half buttoned up and she got a good look at his rippling chest. 
“Well, my dress may be low-cut but you definitely have more cleavage than I do, honestly,” she teased to hopefully lighten the mood, gesturing between his firm chest and her small boobs. 
Jack hollered with laughter before crossing the short distance to wrap his arms around her and press his mouth to hers for a quick peck. 
He looked her up and down as he pulled away. “But seriously, baby, seeing you like this… maybe we can skip the party and just visit ‘em tomorrow, eh? Whaddaya say?” his grin was absolutely mischievous as he leaned in to pepper hisses on her jaw and neck.
It took soooooo much will power to push him and that incredibly tempting offer away. 
She giggled seeing his exaggerated puppy dog pout as she pressed her hands against his chest. “Unlike most of the people going to that party, we’re two of their actual friends, Jack. We’re going,” she said confidently, chin up as she hoped for a victory.
Jack looked at her like he wanted to protest still, but for a split second, he glanced at the desk behind her, before his blue eyes went back to her brown ones. 
She knew he was up to something when his smile was just a bit too sweet, but they were too pressed for time already for her to question it now. 
“Ok, baby, you win,” he said and oh he was definitely up to something. He never gave up that easily! “Want me to put your necklace on for ‘ya?”
Sydney’s eyes widened as she did remember the pretty pearl necklace Charlie had gifted to her when, well, ironically enough, when she broke up with Jack. Her best friend bought it saying it looked pretty with Sydney’s new shorter hairstyle, and it did perk her up a bit. 
She appreciated having Charlie around, especially when she was pregnant and had to raise Willa by herself for a bit before Jack showed up in their lives. 
So yeah, couldn’t be late for the party!
She nodded up at him, and he reached behind her to grab the necklace. 
He gestured with his head, “Turn around.” 
Sydney did as she was told and didn’t have to wait long before she felt the feathery light weight of the pearls touch her rosy skin. It shifted just a bit before staying still as Jack set it in place, and she wanted to spin and kiss him as thanks, but she completely forgot all higher brain functions as she felt his rough knuckles gently and slowly trace up her bare back. 
She shivered and couldn’t help but gasp softly. 
“Jack…” she whispered.
“Hmm?” he said huskily and fuck, his breath ghosted the shell of her ear and she practically melted.
She felt his lips touch her skin as he pressed kisses to her neck, each one so slow and leaving her needing more.
“We really should get going,” she said, and with lust slowly fogging her mind, she was lowkey proud she was even able to form a coherent sentence like that. 
Jack gently pressed himself against her, and she moaned feeling just how turned on he was. 
He chuckled lowly and nipped at her skin. “That what you really want right now?” he asked, his voice dripping with smugness as his hands slid down to her waist. 
“Jack, please,” she groaned out, heat pooling in her belly as she gripped the desk in front of her tightly. 
He pushed their bodies closer together. “Please what, baby?”
She bit her lip, her fingers digging into the wooden table. 
Her body was ablaze with need, the heat slowly overpowering the little voice in her head telling her they were already late. But the said voice was still insisting, trying to shout over the growing flames.
Jack scraped her skin as he undid one strap with his teeth and the wildfire completely consumed her. 
Like she said, they were already late anyway.
Sydney grinded her hips against him. “Please fuck me…” she whimpered, and through the lust-filled fog she was still able to add, “But quick.”
There. Compromise!
She felt Jack’s laugh vibrate against her. “Knew you’d see it my way, Syd.”
He gathered fistfuls of fabric in his hands and bunched her dress up over her hips. The cool temperature of the air conditioned room didn’t even phase her, what with her body already heating up with a huge fucking need to have Jack inside of her. 
She heard the clinking of his belt and he only took seconds but it felt like an eternity to her that she needed to reach a hand out to slide underneath her panties and touch herself. 
But of course close quarters combat specialist Jack Krauser was much too quick, tugging on her wrist just as she got to the waistband of her lacy underwear.
Jack shushed her gently, chuckling against her neck and fuck, she could feel his hardened cock through the fabric of her panties already. 
“I’m here, baby, I’m here. I know you want to do this quickly but really?” Jack teased. 
Sydney whimpered, writhing against him and wondering why the fuck wasn’t he in her yet. “Jack, I swear, if you don’t-”
Her obviously empty threat died in her throat as Jack released her wrist to slowly tug up on the waistband of her underwear. Sydney groaned in frustration, desperate to feel more friction, to feel him.
“Fast, Jack,” she tried to reprimand him but it came out as a whiny and needy mewl instead.
The stupid handsome jerk laughed before he released his hold all of a sudden, and before she had the chance to scream at him, he finally slid his finger underneath her panties and dipped it inside of her.
Sydney exhaled sharply and loudly as she felt a tidal wave of pleasure hit her.
Jack moaned beside her. “God, baby. You’re fucking dripping.” He pumped steadily inside her before adding a second finger.
She couldn’t even find it in herself to really care if they were being too noisy; not when Jack grinded his hips against her ass, and she knew that he was absolutely sure that she could feel his hardened cock straining against his pants. 
His name fell from her lips as she spread her legs wider.
“That’s like music to my ears,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her skin. “Let me hear you again, baby. Let me hear who makes you feel so damn good.”
“You, Jack. You,” she chanted like a prayer, seeking that he’d grant her the high she was craving.
He kissed her jaw aggressively and possessively, biting into her skin and growling as he pumped his fingers inside her faster, while his other hand slithered underneath her dress through the backless space and started squeezing and massaging her breasts.
She loved it when he was a bit rougher than usual, making her delirious with lust as she surrendered to him, allowed herself to be consumed by everything Jack Krauser. 
Sure her hair was unkempt and unruly now, and she had beads of sweat running down her face despite the chilly room, but fuck she really needed this. Needed him.
She turned her head so she could capture his lips in hers, and she did so sloppily, with their teeth gnashing together, tongues battling, and she was sure her lipstick was all over both of their mouths now. 
Jack growled out Fuck against her lips. Suddenly the fingers inside her pulled away and started tugging her panties down until it pooled onto the floor. 
While she kicked it away, Jack let her go, and she could hear the clinking of his belt behind her.
"Like you said, quick," Jack said playfully before he pushed himself inside her. 
They both hissed in pleasure at the contact.
Jack started slow, before rocking into her at a faster pace. Sydney moaned obscenely, her jaw dropping open, one hand reaching up to tugal at his blonde hair
He filled her up so well that she completely forgot the real reason they needed to be quick in the first place. 
All she cared about was getting fucked hard by Jack Krauser. 
“Jack you - fuck, right there, baby, just like that,” her sentence barely made any sense, as she babbled lust-filled praises.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled against her skin, his nose brushing against her cheek, their sweat mixing together. “I’m a goddamn idiot for leaving you. Shit, you feel so good, baby.” His hands went to her hips, snapping their bodies even closer together as he quickened his pace. 
They only got back together a few weeks ago and though technically Albert was Jack’s work friend - well, boss, but still! - and it was a business trip to Europe, Sydney considered this as their first vacation together in forever. 
And ok, yeah, she really did miss fucking him too. 
Jack's hand stayed on her hip, while the other trailed up to knead her breasts. 
She was basically bouncing up and down his cock now as he thrusted faster and rougher; and she wouldn’t be surprised if the desk had scratch marks and moon crests on them now with how much she had dug her fingertips into the wood.
The pounding was merciless, the sound of their skin slapping against each other so lewd and so fucking hot that she could practically feel the stars behind her eyes just waiting to burst through. 
Her mewls and whimpers became softer and more high-pitched as heat pooled in her belly, like a geyser about ready to erupt.
“I’m so close, baby, please, please, please,” she sobbed, Jack’s almost brutal pace driving her mad with pleasure. 
He gripped her tighter, and she dared to glance down, moaning as she saw red marks forming on her rosy skin, where he dug his fingers into her a bit too roughly. 
But fuck that just turned her on even more.
"I love you, baby," she cried, fingers tugging on his head to pull him in for a kiss.
“Don’t hold back,” he ordered her, his voice hoarse, and he was so fucking close, his blue eyes were so bright and gleaming with lust. “You gonna scream my name as you cum?”
Sydney nodded dumbly, her toes curling as she was getting closer and closer.
Jack's vicious shark-like grin filled her vision. “Good girl.”
That was it for her.
She cried out his name loudly and repeated it like a chant, mumbling Jack and I love yous over and over as she came down from her climax, with Jack peppering her with until her body relaxed and sagged.
He continued to pound into her until his thrusts became erratic, and with a few more deep pushes, he spilled inside her, whispering he loved her.
Sydney whimpered weakly as he pulled out of her.
She was too busy basking in the afterglow that she had no fucking idea how Jack still had the strength to carry her to the bed, wash him, then her, and helped her fix her underwear and dress before he fixed his own unruly state. Perks of having a technically superhuman fiance or something.
Now that they were done, they could finally get to the party, and would probably be around maybe forty-five minutes late. 
Bad but not at least like, an hour bad, right?
“Hey,” Jack called out as Sydney finished putting her heels on.
He helped her stand from the couch, and she was mesmerized by how soft his gaze was now. If earlier they burned bright with an intense desire, now they were warm with such love and affection.
It was a look that made Sydney’s heart jump to her throat and do somersaults. 
It was a look she thought she’d never see again. 
Jack smiled, fingers threading to fix her hair before he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I really missed you,” he whispered softly, like a confession.
And also an apology.
Sydney placed her hands atop his hulking shoulders. “I missed you too,” then her lips quirked up into a smirk. “And I’m sure Willa misses the both of us now.”
The way Jack’s blue eyes softened even more at the mention of their little girl made Sydney’s heart melt. “We did promise to buy her chocolates,” he said.
Sydney recalled how Willa had almost refused to let them go to the party without her, knowing Aunt Charlie and the Wesker girls would be there. She and Jack had to explain that it was a bit too far and it was a party for adults only.
AKA a quaint place in Europe that Albert was still making sure was completely under tight Umbrella surveillance and BSAA-safe before Willa and the twins could come along.
The party was also technically bait to draw the BSAA out, if they knew anything at all. But with a room full of Umbrella agents like Ada Wong, and three superhumans, even if Chris Redfield knew anything, they all doubted he'd move that night.
"C'mon," Jack said rolling her shoulders and fixing his shirt as he walked to the door. "If we leave now, we can still make our mighty leader's big speech."
Sydney hummed as a thought occurred to her.
"Can we stop by a drive-through first? They're serving the food buffet-style and it's all probably cold now."
Jack kissed the top of her head as he opened the door for her.
"Baby that was already on the itinerary before my dick was inside you."
Sydney hollered with laughter.
He put an arm around her waist as they walked down the halls of the hotel, and Sydney basked in happiness. 
Later when they got to the party, they apologized profusely to the Weskers.
Charlie truly was her bestie as the shorter woman simply said "I mean, we kinda did sneak away too earlier ago,"
Albert practically choked on his whiskey as Jack only hummed like a wise sage and said said, "With like twelve fucking bedrooms in here, you gotta at least have done it in half of 'em already."
They definitely had to go on more vacations together. 
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banemmanan · 1 year
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Failed Escape
My first entry for @whumpuary ! I only just came across this, but I'm super inspired to take part. I decided that my new year's resolution was to create all those art and fics that I usually just sit around and think about and never actually bring into fruition. Fingers crossed that I manage all 10!
This is entry No.1, for the prompt: Failed Escape.
Link to Ao3: Failed Escape
Next entry: Held at Gunpoint
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   *click*
   “I got it,” April Dancer muttered to her partner, easing open the cell door just a crack and peering through to check that the coast was clear. She felt a breath ghost along her shoulder as Mark Slate crouched beside her to peek out himself.
   No guard had been posted outside the door and the security cameras were either elusive or non-existent. The two agents steeled themselves, then crept quietly out into the corridor. Hugging close to the wall, they slunk their way along three more hallways and a set of stairs in what could almost be mistaken for an abandoned building. It was as they slunk along their fourth corridor that a distant door slamming broke the illusion. Hearing footsteps echoing from somewhere beyond a bend in the hallway, the two agents quickly ducked through the nearest door.
   The room was pitch black. With nothing to see, the room seemed to fill with the sound of their breathing. A hand fumbled in the darkness, finding its partner’s and holding on tightly. The two agents pressed their ears to the door, listening intently as the volume of the pursuing footsteps rose and fell; passing them by and disappearing around the corner. A minute more of silence passed as the agents waited to see if more footfalls would follow, finally, with a soft squeeze of fingers to communicate that it was time to go, the doorknob was grasped. And twisted.
   And nothing.
   Jiggling the handle confirmed that the door would not open. It was locked.
   Suddenly the lights came on and the two agents had to squint to see through the glaring whiteness.
   The room was bare and grey and rather small, not more than five meters square. A speaker crackled to life in the ceiling.
   “Oh dear, oh dear,” a tinny voice tutted at them from on high, “Did you really think that we’d let you escape that easily?”
   The two agents turned to each other.
   “It’s not one of our finest moments,” April quipped sheepishly, earning her a tentative smile from her partner.
   “You realize of course,” the speaker continued, “that you will have to be punished for this.”
   The smile immediately fell, the agents glanced around the room, their muscles tensing, anticipating some form of attack. A panel sliding away to reveal a weapon, perhaps. Or a hidden door opening up to admit a horde of THRUSH goons. April’s gaze landed briefly on the door through which they’d entred, but there was no lock below the handle in which to jam her trusty lockpick.
   “But don’t worry, I have plans for you, my little friends, so this won’t kill you.”
   A hissing sound filled the room as noxious clouds of gas poured into the room from vents in the ceiling. April and Mark immediately dropped to the floor in a futile attempt to avoid the gas for as long as possible.
   “It will just be very, very painful.”
   The speakers squawk as they struggle to convey the uncontrolled laughter of the disembodied voice of their captor. But the agents weren’t listening. The moment the first wisp of the gas was inhaled, their lungs exploded in pain.
   April would have screamed had she the breath for it. Instead, all she managed was a pained wheeze as she clawed at her chest. Mark grit his teeth and stubbornly refused to breathe anymore, hands balling into fists and diaphragm spasming in protest. The inevitable gasp of air left him shaking as an inferno tore its way through his lungs, ripping a sob from his chest, tears streaming down his face. April coughed wetly against her shirt, pulled up over her nose and mouth to little effect, and curled herself into a ball in a mindless attempt to escape the gas.
   As their lungs struggled for oxygen, the two agents grew dizzy and weak and eventually succumbed to their pain. Already prone on the floor, the two bodies slumped further into stillness. The hissing noise in the room slowed and stopped, replaced by a whirr as a fan somewhere sucked the gas back out of the room.
   The door swung open to admit gas-masked figures that converged on the unconscious agents and dragged them from the room, back towards the holding cells on the floor above. One figure remained in the hallway, face also concealed by a gasmask, giggling quietly to themself as they watched.
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edge-verse · 1 year
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How Our Multiverse Works PT.3
The Au's & Bubbles
The Au's are a series of disconnected translucent bubbles that are in constant motion however they don’t move very fast.
The bubbles vary in size but are still small, the smallest bubble being the size of a volleyball and the biggest size being a normal beach ball.
An example being think of the Au's and bubbles as a cell with the Au being the nucleus and the bubble being the membrane, the bubble protects the Au and the Au keeps the bubble alive.
The size of the Au depends of either popularity or the amount of story in it.
These bubbles have defense mechanism being if any being is close by these bubbles will move faster and sent out a signal that is only detectable by Ink and other bubbles, once another bubble detect’s this signal they would move away from where the signal came from.
Passing into the world itself is done by simply putting your body through the bubble, but you would end up in a random place in the Au however there are some ways to control where you end up like teleportation.
These bubbles can only be destroyed from the inside by corruption/glitches, once everything in the Au is destroyed the bubble will then be destroyed.
These Bubbles sometimes cross over one another, causing crossovers between the worlds like if Underfell and Underswap collide with each other a new bubble is created and its either Fellswap or Swapfell. These Au's are called Combination AUs.
These bubbles also tend to follow one another creating groups of Au's, this mostly happens with Combination Au's and Au's created by the same author
Combination Au's tend to only stick with one of their non combined Au’s, basically the Au that shares the first part the their name
An example being Fellswap will follow Underfell and SwapFell will follow Underswap, however there are some cases on combination Au’s being alone.
There have been some cases where two bubbles collided but instead of creating a combined Au, it creates a rip in space which leads either into the Anti-void or the Au’s the bubble collide with, this is due to The Au's not being compatible or other reasons.
Beings that originate from their bubble/Au can detect where the bubble is however it can be tricky.
An example being if underswap papyrus is lost in the anti-void he will gain a vague sense of which direction his Au is
Unfinished Au’s still exist in the multiverse however the bubble that contains it, is weak and can easily be destroyed, the characters, environment, and etc are also unfinished meaning some places and characters don’t have code, a bubble containing a unfinished Au is much much smaller than regular Au’s
Cancelled Au’s exist in the multiverse but after some time they destroy themselves and end up in the void
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jakei95 · 3 years
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Another artrade by this boi @yugogeer012  This time, a happy family riding a tandem bike because they’re a good team <3
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lovelybucky1 · 3 years
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please please can we get some Wanda x Agatha content? I know that you said that you were taking blurb requests so pretty please!!
Retribution
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DARK FIC, READ WARNINGS
warnings: slight dubcon, dom!wanda, sub!agatha, use of magic, bondage magic, angry sex, face slapping, hair pulling, spit kink, manipulation, mentions of (non sexual) violence,
“You ruined everything!” Wanda yells, sending furniture sliding across the floor and slamming into the opposite wall.
“Calm down, Wanda, it’s just me,” Agatha says in a sickly sweet voice that fills Wanda with boiling rage.
“Everything I built, you ruined! I had a life, a family, and you took it all away!”
Wanda crosses the room in long steps and as she gets closer, Agatha takes a step back. She hits the wall behind her and she puts her hand out to stop Wanda, but she bats it away.
“You’re going to pay for this,” she hisses.
“You know,” Agatha clears her throat, “your accent gets thicker when you’re mad.”
Agatha immediately regretted the teasing remark when Wanda brought her hand up and slapped her across the face. She chokes on a surprised gasp and works her jaw to alleviate the sting.
“You’re quite the little firecracker, aren’t you, red?” she laughs humorlessly.
Wanda, having enough of Agatha’s jibes, covers her mouth with her hand and gives her a threatening glare.
“Speak again and it’ll be the last time.”
Agatha didn’t believe she would go through with the threat, but she doesn’t push any further and only nods.
Wanda releases the other woman’s mouth, then grabs both of her wrists and holds them over her head. Agatha feels a warm tingle, and when she looks up, she sees glowing red chains wrapped around her wrists.
“Come,” Wanda orders bluntly as she walks to the center of the room. Agatha only hesitates for a moment, but it is apparently too long for Wanda. She uses her magic to pull her forward and stops her only inches in front of her face.
Wanda attaches the bonds to the ceiling and starts to pace around Agatha’s suspended body. She admires her former neighbor’s figure; she may hate the woman but she isn’t blind. Wanda reaches out to place a hand on the center of her back, and Agatha jumps, making the chains jingle.
“What are you so afraid of?” Wanda asks, walking back in front of her. Agatha looks down at her with a pleading expression, and Wanda almost feels bad for her. Almost.
“Please let me go,” Agatha begs.
“What did I say about talking?”
Agatha squeezes her eyes shut and forces tears to spring to her eyes. Wanda is mad now, but she’s not an evil person. Her compassion is her weakness, and Agatha knows how to play into it perfectly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t want to do this. He made me,” she says, throwing in a few voice cracks for good measure.
“Who made you?”
Agatha opens her glassy eyes and gently shakes her head, like it would hurt her too much to tell Wanda the truth.
“Who made you?” Wanda asks again, firmer this time.
“Tony Stark,” Agatha breathes out.
Wanda’s stomach drops at the name. In the world she created, Tony Stark didn’t exist. Steve Rogers was a household name, the heroic Captain America who saves the day and is the image of goodness. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, or Uncle Clint and Aunt Nat as her kids called them, lived far away on a nice, quaint little farm with Clint’s wife and his family. All of the Avengers existed in her world somehow, except Tony Stark.
“He blamed you for breaking up the team,” Agatha explains. “It was his last wish to make sure you end up in prison, away from your family just like you took away his.”
The anger fades from Wanda’s face, but nothing replaces it. She stares blankly at the floor as she processes what she’s heard. Tony Stark, the man who’s weapons killed her parents, the man who destroyed her home, and the man who tore apart her found family, blamed her?
“I’m so sorry, Wanda. I didn’t have another choice... he had a team of people come after my family.”
Wanda’s mind raced, thinking of reasons as to why Tony would do this. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve any of this. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe, but she was convinced this was wrong.
“You’re lying,” Wanda says, finally looking up from the floor.
“I wish I was, I really do,” Agatha sobs.
“He wouldn’t have done this.”
“I’m so sorry, Wanda.”
“Stop lying to me!” Wanda screams, the sound echoing throughout the room, making the furniture rattle. “You’ve done nothing but lie!”
Wanda’s hands ball into tight fists at her side and red energy swirls around her. Her eyes begin to glow and for the first time, Agatha feels genuine fear at what Wanda may do. Wanda grabs Agatha’s thigh and sends a hot wave of energy through her body.
It burns her everywhere, making her feel like she’s boiling from the inside. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out; only a red light emanating from her throat.
Agatha thrashes about against the chains, but it’s no use. She can’t escape the pain and Wanda is too furious to show her mercy now.
When Wanda finally lets go, the burning sensation stops and Agatha goes limp, hanging from her wrists as she tries to catch her breath.
“You’re a witch,” Wanda says, making Agatha look at her again. “Tony Stark didn’t send you, you came after my power.”
“Don’t be-”
“Don’t try to lie again, I know the truth. I looked inside your head, I saw the destruction you wish to bring.”
Wanda steps forward and places her hand on Agatha’s thigh again and she flinches, expecting it to burn. When it doesn’t she opens her eyes to find Wanda smirking.
“I’ll make you a deal. You can tell me what I want to know, or I’ll find out myself. One of those will be far less comfortable for you than the other.”
Wanda’s voice is low, almost seductive in a way. Agatha shakes slightly as Wanda looks at her intensely, her gaze unwavering even slightly.
“I’ll tell you,” Agatha says weakly, making Wanda smile.
“Wonderful,” Wanda chirps.
Just as Agatha was about to speak, Wanda trials her hand up her stomach, stopping just between her breasts. Agatha chokes, surprised at the other woman’s actions.
“Don’t mind me,” Wanda says nonchalantly as she lifts the hem of Agatha’s shirt and pushes her hand up, feeling her soft stomach.
Wanda grabs ahold of Agatha’s bra and rips it clean off like it was nothing. She gasps when Wanda pinches at her nipple with cold fingers, instinctively pushing her chest out for more. Wanda raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Instead, she pulls her hand out of Agatha’s shirt and snaps her fingers, and in a flash, all of her clothes disappear.
She yelps when the cool air of the room hits her body all at once, and she squirms to try to cover herself, but there is so use. Wanda grabs Agatha by the hair to keep her in place, shooting her a glare that says stay still.
“Start talking before I do something you won’t enjoy,” Wanda threatens.
“What do you want to know?” Agatha breathes out.
“Tell me everything. Who you are, what you want from me.”
Agatha nods quickly and begins to explain. She tells Wanda she is a witch and has been for four-hundred years. She tells of how she’s been searching for a more powerful being to teach her, to make her stronger, and that Wanda is the most powerful beacon of energy in the entire multiverse.
Wanda listens intently and begins to notice the story does not entirely add up. She decides to give Agatha a little more encouragement to keep telling the truth.
She kneads Agatha’s breast roughly in on hand, and with the other, she slides it between her legs to cup her pussy. Agatha squeezes her legs shut in surprise, which only adds to the minimal friction Wanda is providing. She moans quietly, an involuntary little noise that escapes her throat and makes her chest flush in embarrassment.
“Do you like that?” Wanda asks rhetorically as she slips her fingers between Agatha’s lips to press directly against her clit.
Agatha struggles with her answer. It feels good and she desperately wants more, but she’s also being held captive and interrogated. Squeezing her eyes shut, she nods quickly. Wanda smirks and rubs her fingers over Agatha’s clit. She laughs to herself when Agatha starts to roll her hips, matching her pace.
“If you wanted to learn, why did you come here to destroy me?” Wanda asks as she dips her fingertip inside of the other woman.
“I wanted it for myself,” Agatha confesses, “I knew I couldn’t make this myself, but I could get rid of you and take it for myself.”
Wanda is surprised at the other witch’s honesty. She already knew her intentions, but she wasn’t expecting Agatha to confess so bluntly.
“Was that so hard?” Wanda coos as she curls her fingers inside Agatha, rubbing her wall.
“No, no it wasn’t, I’m so sorry,” she babbles.
Wanda reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of Agatha’s face, a gentle contrast to the rest of this encounter.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Agatha?”
“Yes,” she whines.
“You’d make such a good pet, darling. So obedient and pretty.”
Wanda’s fingers fuck into Agatha’s pussy faster, hitting her sweet spot with each stroke. Agatha’s face is twisted is pleasure and her chest heaves with exertion.
“I think I’ll keep you,” Wanda says darkly. “It will be your punishment for trying to take this from me.”
Agatha can’t hear Wanda anymore, too focused on her own pleasure to notice. She throws her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her orgasm washes over her. It feels like it lasts forever; heat bubbles inside of her and her body jerks with each new wave. Her eyes roll back in her head and she sees a faint image of Wanda standing over her with glowing red eyes, but for some reason, she doesn’t feel afraid.
“This is where you belong,” Wanda says in a booming voice that echoes throughout the vast space in Agatha’s mind. “Helpless and bound at my mercy.”
Agatha doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to fight. She just nods, accepting her role as Wanda’s toy. Maybe one day she’ll be able to overthrow her, but for now, she is too weak to even dream of it.
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asreoniplier · 2 years
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Hollow [Darkiplier & Y/N]
A fic for Dark’s birthday and the anniversary of WKM.
Somewhat angsty, or certainly somber; please be aware the topics may be a little heavy and bleak, including notions of the ideation of non-existence, trauma, hopelessness, unnamed as such but probably severe depression. A sympathetic and very complexly human Dark (emotionally speaking; he is still the same demonic amalgamate as ever).   
Relationship between Dark and Y/N is entirely ambivalent, read it as platonic or romantic as you will.
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Dark had never cared much for his supposed birthday—if one could even call it that, as he said. Creation day, perhaps. He hardly saw it something worth celebrating. Yet others apparently did. Particularly Wilford, who was inclined to latch onto any excuse to be jovial, and Dark generally found no reason to deny him. It did no harm. Sometimes, if he dared be entirely truthful, he found a modicum of entertainment in the ordeal, even if the sentiment behind it was meaningless to him.
Yet this year… it did not feel the same. Gone was the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, lips pressed to hide a smile. The face kept straight and head held high, but warmth in his eyes, and a quiet appreciation in the way he placed a hand on Wilford’s shoulder or nodded to his former DA.
This year, there was only coldness.
When Dark could be found at all, as it was clear he had made it his mission to avoid everyone as much as inhumanly possible. Which, needless to say, was very well indeed.
You had given up far earlier than everyone else—Dark did not want to engage with anything or anyone, that much was clear. There was a difference, you knew it well, between a reluctance that could be overcome with cajoling and allow Dark to enjoy himself in the end, and a genuine discomfort where to persist would be crossing a boundary. His birthday was normally the former. This year, though… the storminess in the air spoke of the latter.
So you had excused yourself—Wilford’s half-feigned dejection and bluster between party preparations and finding the man of the hour had done nothing but unsettle you further. You left only a bouquet on his desk, and a note. “I am here, if you want to talk.”
Dark rarely did. You did not truly expect anything to come of it, and were used to that enough to feel no rejection should he not take up the offer.
Yet it weighed heavily on your heart. This song and dance was nothing new. The moment of Dark’s creation, where two beings were ripped apart and forged anew in the darkness, a shattered amalgamate forged in betrayal and rage and suffering, was hardly a joyful occasion. That was his perspective. You tried to side with Wilford, gently, to say that those circumstances did not define who Dark was now, that he existed, and you were glad that he did.
Over and over. It was hardly even confined to Dark’s birthday; this was a war his self-hatred raged every day. Some days, you could win him over. Others, you could only stay, sitting as close as you dared, while his auras pulsed and raged and shredded at each other with loathing.
He was in the garden, when you found him. When he let you find him, you supposed. Long after the day was done, and you had only stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, to look up at the stars, and try to untangle the knot of sorrow that had twisted into a hard ball in your stomach.
You wondered if he was there trying to do the same.
“We missed you today,” you offered quietly.
Dark’s head tilted slightly, as much acknowledgement as the statement would receive. He seemed unusually subdued, auras barely even visible. Flickering weakly, like slowly guttering candles, and even less vibrant.
“How much longer can we do this.” There was such hollow resignation in Dark’s voice. It was at such odds to his usual being—even in the worst of his self-hatred, there was a rage, an indignation, even if he turned it inwards on himself more than anyone else nowadays.
“Is this about your birthday?”
A vague gesture, to everything and to nothing. “Existence.”
“Dark…” Familiar, yet. The energy of his conviction was different. You knew you were rehashing the same old words, feeling helpless to do anything else. “Whatever may have led to it, you do exist. And all any of us can do is make the most of the existence we have. You are here. That’s what matters now.”
“Would that I did not,” he said. Cold, dismissive, blasé. The silence lingered heavily in the cold night air, but it was not uncomfortable. You knew him and you knew his moods too well, and it was vulnerability, not awkwardness. You waited for him to speak again.
“Perhaps I would like to exist,” Dark acknowledged, correcting his own statement. “But I have long doubted the possibility of it.”
“You do, though. There is no doubt of that.”
“For how much longer.” He folded his hands behind his back. His eyes closed briefly, and an expression flickered across his face that was—not quite pain, for you were familiar with how he wore that, but an abject and genuine sorrow. Mourning. Guilt. “I should never have existed.”
“But I am glad you do,” you replied firmly. “You are worth celebrating.”
“No,” Dark said this time. The rejection was soft, but irrefutable.
“Dark. Don’t you dare say we would all have been better off without you, because I do not believe that for a moment. Do you believe you would have been better off without me? Because sometimes I think so; if I didn’t exist, Mark wouldn’t have leveraged me against you, you would have been spared so much pain. I’ve made shitty decisions too, I’ve made things worse for you at times. But you would not hold that against me. Why, then, is it one rule for me, and another for you?”
His smile was sardonic. “Why is it indeed,” Dark asked, yet it was not yourself he seemed to be questioning. “Tell me; what if I did? What if I held it against you, and tormented your every waking hour with guilt, over things long past, mistakes made in ignorance or innocence. Would you stay?”
You hesitated, trying to read between the lines. “Is this. About Mark?”
Dark did not reply immediately, but the flicker of his auras—finally, a flash of vivid colour to them, of his hurt, his anger, knowing that Mark was the one who did him wrong—told you that you could not be far off.
“In some part, perhaps. But it is all far more complicated than that.”
“Life is,” you acknowledged.
“And nothing is so black and white,” Dark concluded. He stepped forward, shoes scuffing at the grass. A moment of hesitance, then in his indecision and agitation, he took up a steady pace. You hurried to his side, not questioning where you were going—truth be told, you did not know you were going anywhere in particular at all.
But perhaps you were wrong. Dark led you through the winding paths of the garden, growing more untamed and unused as you picked your way downwards, until you were stood at the edge of the lake. The water was black as night, moonlight glittering across its surface as it lapped at the shore.
“It was not this lake, of course,” Dark stated, “but there was one such similar. Celine—” it was barely perceptible, but he struggled a little with name, as though it did not want to come off his tongue, “—threw her wedding ring into it.”
It was extremely rare for him to speak of the past. You could count on one hand the times he had even uttered the names of those whose remnants created him, and though you knew the very basic details of what had happened, back in Markiplier Manor so long ago, it was a tale left unspoken. Dark had certainly never breathed a word of the circumstances leading up to it, nor his—well, Damien and Celine’s—history with Mark prior.
He was not at all comfortable speaking of it now, still, that much was clear; Dark’s lips curled up in distaste, at himself for even mentioning it, before schooling his expression into something more neutral. Forcibly blank, a wall raised between himself and his emotions.
“No, life is not black and white. Yet all my existence—” how bitterly he said it, “—has been the same tale. To be painted as the villain. For a while even, I embraced it. It felt justified. And how I have dearly wished I were only that… perhaps if I were truly evil and truly a villain, it wouldn’t hurt so fucking much.”
“Dark—” You reached out to touch his shoulder, but stopped just before your fingers made contact.
He reigned himself in, realising he was getting ahead of himself. He smoothed down the front of his suit jacket, tugging at his tie; familiar little tics that betrayed his discomfort. “I speak of this only as an example.”
“I understand.”
“Celine and Mark were married.”
“Yes, I recall.”
“And should you listen to his tale, she broke his heart and left him, driving him, in this despair, to end it all and seek revenge on his ex-lover, the man she cheated with, and the brother who ‘took their side’ by attempting to mediate rather than simply agree with Mark. To even the scale and prevent anyone else being hurt by someone so cruel and manipulative. He is the victim, is he not?”
You held your tongue. There was much that could be unpacked from that alone, but you would allow Dark to follow the course of his own reasoning.
“She tried for him, do you know that.” Dark’s stormy tension eased, ever so slightly, as if his side of the story—as loathe as he may have been to recall it at all—were a burden carried for over a century, that he could at last get off his chest.
“Celine was a fiercely smart woman—she would not have married Mark if she knew what he would become. Even she could not see that future. Perhaps, in retrospect, there were the subtlest of signs, but the man he became was someone else entirely. Yet in turn, and I say this with full self-awareness, she was not the easiest person to get along with. A trait perhaps I have inherited.”
Dark shook his head. “Regardless. It is… unpalatable, and unproductive, to pick apart every hurt dealt between them, every misunderstanding and failed attempt at communication. And though I am loathe to admit it, Mark was not a monster. Not then. It was simply a complicated relationship between two people; young, inexperienced, and immature, with differing needs and wants. Differences that grew more and more incompatible, and festered instead of ever coming to an understanding. He… listened, but he never heard her. Not truly. Perhaps he felt the same of her.”
“That is it…? All this hurt, over that?”
Finally, Dark turned to you. “You say that I am good. Mark would say that I am evil. The truth lies somewhere in between; would you not agree?”
You did agree, if somewhat reluctantly. Dark was still good to you, despite his imperfections. “That’s true for all of us.”
“Yes, it is,” Dark acknowledged. “You know. Mark acts as though she were the traitor, the one who left, who cheated. He seems to have conveniently forgotten he was the one who left first.”
There was still a note of bitterness in his voice; he caught himself, waving it away with a dismissive gesture. “Not so literally; it was his house, after all. But he first spoke the words that he never wanted to have anything to do with Celine again. And then, when she had left, tried to move on and find a new place in the world – yes, with Wilford – he returned out of nowhere and demanded she be held accountable for his pain, as if his abandonment did not nearly destroy her. Not that she would ever have admitted such at the time; she was too proud for that. So much needless mess…”
“Is there anything that could have been done?”
“No,” he said darkly. “Mark… was already gone. He was unrecognisable. He had been consumed by his anger and grief in the meantime, he had demonised her and destroyed her reputation for anyone who would listen. Even if she had tried to apologise as he wished, it would have done no good. He was not open to it, so entirely convinced of his own narrative. So she refused him; all he seemed to want was to hurt her more, the way he was hurting, else to twist her every word to fuel his distorted vision of her. He always did cherry pick her words and decide his interpretation of them was correct, even when she clarified clearly her intent and meaning. And still yet I—she—wonders, if she had tried one last time…”
Despite his blank mask, speaking of such things impassively for most of the part, there were still traces of regret, guilt, in the tense of his shoulders and the twitch of his fingers.
“It’s not your fault,” you assured him. “It wasn’t Celine’s then, and definitely not yours now. You are not her. And even if she were still here, what’s done is done. Whether it was the right thing to do, or there was another way, whatever mistakes may have been made along the way. That’s past. We all make mistakes. All we can do is learn from them and grow.”
Dark smiled, yet it was a hollow and haunted expression.
“He will not let me. No one. Will fucking. Let me.”
What could you say to that? Your heart broke for him, all the more because… it was a sweeping statement, yes, catastrophising, maybe, and yet. You knew it was not entirely unfounded. And you knew how much it hurt him.
He was not the same man as back then, and he was not the same man you knew when you first found him again, after the fragmented memories of your past life had returned to you. You were far from the same yourself—even putting aside any existence at the former DA, for that was to you as much a remnant as Damien and Celine were to Dark, it was not you, here and now. These last few years alone, you had changed. With Dark. Because of Dark.
You always tried to speak of hope, and growth, that life was more than suffering. You had promised him he was not bound by his creation. To solely be Mark’s villain. Yet, what if all of it had been a lie. For every good intention, for as much you had believed it with all your heart, it was still denied him at every turn.
All you had ever wanted was to see him live.
“And so it goes. Over and over and over again. The details change, the people, and yet. What you and I see as complex, nuanced shades of grey are instead thrown into the sharp relief of black and white, and I—” he raised his hand, staring at it as though it belonged to a foreign being, and one he regarded with disgust at that, “—I am always to be in the wrong. As if it were that simple.”
You knew where this thought led; it was not the first time Dark had spoken such. Though never with quite such defeated openness before.
“You are not inherently wrong, nor inherently bad,” you stated firmly, brooking no argument, before your tone softened. “It is not fair, but it’s not your fault either.”
“It is enough to make one wonder.”
“No. Because if you were evil, if you were the villain he says you are, you would revel in causing hurt and not feel this guilt over the mistakes you have made. And those that you were blamed for but were never your responsibility as well.”
“Be that as it may,” Dark acquiesced, “what difference does it make, when no one cares to believe it.” In the depths of the night, his eyes seemed as black as the water of the lake before you, but bore none of its light. “I almost did not believe it of myself, for a time. Mark spun his tales, of how it was the worst of Damien and Celine, and the vile energy of that place, that formed this mangled amalgamate I am. All that was bad and nothing more… how he had us all fooled.”
This time, you did place your hand on Dark’s shoulder. That seemed not enough. Fingers gently tracing down the sleeve of his suit jacket, you touched the back of his hand instead. His brows furrowed, and there was an uncharacteristic slump to his shoulders that worried you deeply.
“I played my part, and though I have never meant malice—barring towards Mark, perhaps, at times—people were hurt. I cannot deny that.”
“We’ve all hurt people. We’ve all made mistakes, or been stupid, wounded, lost, just didn’t know better. That life. That’s being human.” You gave him a sad, bitterly wry smile. “For the supposedly inhuman one, you are the most human of us all.”
“Yet not human enough. You have the right to move on. For me, there is no forgiveness. There is no mercy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” The words were bitter, yet the anguish that belied them was far more telling. “But I know this. There is simply no place for me here anymore; that is all that it is.”
“So,” you stated, drawing away from Dark and folding your arms. “Is it not truly that you do not want to exist, it is that you feel you are being forced from existence.”
“And I am aware,” Dark rebuffed, “that such a situation is not fair. But it is what it is, and tell me, what am I to do when the battle is already lost?” He stared across the lake with a grieved yearning, the still, dark waters beckoning. “Perhaps it is simply time I followed Celine and… went back to sleep.”
“Dark…”
“Let everyone else have their possibilities, their complicated relationships, their love, their hate, their sorrow; I just want darkness and cold and peace.”
“…I don’t want to lose you.”
And it hurt, because for a long time now, that was truly all you had wanted. Peace. People sometimes called Dark ineffectual, or acted like it was some sort of failure, that he had never succeeded in taking down Mark. But you didn’t think that was the case at all. Even at the heights of his rage, Dark had stayed his hand. Because hurt only beget hurt. And after a century, he was done with cycles of hatred.
You could have let the past lie. You were perfectly content minding your own business, building a life afresh. You and Dark. Wilford. Whoever of the egos remained and cared for him, though they were scant few now.
But there was no peace while Mark’s vendetta remained. Him. How many others. Who had been hurt, who felt Dark had failed them.
‘She tried,’ Dark had said of Celine. You believed him, for you saw the same yourself. Sometimes it made you feel like you were crazy, the only one who did see it at all. There were so many demands made of Dark, so much that people wanted from him; time, attention, closeness, emotional fulfilment. And he couldn’t provide that. They called him selfish, for failing to meet their needs—yet was it not selfish to expect something he was not equipped to give? And when he did all he could, in his own way, how he was able, it was thrown back in his face.
Dark was both all too human, yet not human enough. Perhaps you were the same; perhaps you had left some part of your soul back in that mirror, when you had been reborn. Perhaps that was why you understood.
No one else seemed to, though. No understanding, no compassion, and no peace.
It hurt to hear Dark talk of it, darkness and cold, but how could you blame him for craving what peace he could find there? There was none to be found in this life.
“What if we ran away?” you suggested. “Let’s just. Get out of here, start over.”
Dark’s expression was worn. “I can be nothing but who I am. I am bound to this place.” He turned and gestured back up through the gardens, towards the manor. “And it only falls deeper into dereliction each day.”
You could not deny you had seen it yourself. The once bustling corridors were deserted. Wings closed off and empty rooms. Some parts had begun crumbling in on themselves, and much that remained was overrun with trails of grimly tenacious brambles and poison ivy.
Even if you dreamed of fixing things, restoring it to what it once was, it was not a task Dark could ever accomplish alone. The damage was too extensive, the rot too deeply rooted. Even if you could salvage something, keep a wing of your own – as indeed you had been trying to all this time – it was only a matter of time before the decay tore at all you had built.
“I hate this,” you announced abruptly. “Why are things so hopeless. It’s not right, it’s not fair.”
The corner of Dark’s mouth twitched in a wry amusement as he looked at you. “You are cute. To still hold on to any notion things could be otherwise.”
“No.” You poked Dark’s chest, not hard, not cruelly, but it was nonetheless a gesture very few could get away with. “You were the one who gave me hope first. You were the one who taught me kindness and compassion—and I don’t know what that says about me, but that’s not important. It can’t end like this.”
Dark turned back to face the water, and you turned him away from it, grabbing his arm in desperation. You would not normally be so careless, knowing he was often extremely tentative about touch, if not outright averse to it. But you knew what the water meant to him, the promise it offered, and you couldn’t bear the idea.
“I know—you can’t live for me. You can’t live to please other people, not in the long run, because that’s no life at all. You need your own reasons. And I could love you to the ends of the earth and back, but this isn’t a fairytale and the love of others won’t fix things. I know all of that… I know. But. Please.” Your head hung, not daring to look him in the eye—weren’t you the one being selfish now? But still you held tightly to his arm. “Don’t leave me.”
He was already miles away.
“It sounds just, does it not? Righteous. That people pay for their sins. But who of any of us have the right to balance those scales? How much must I suffer until these debts are repaid? Why are they to be mine alone?” Dark’s auras stirred in a twisted, macabre dance, jittering and fading again, reeling with him as his mood violently buffeted between that hopelessness and an ember of anger, of injustice, that still remained smouldering.
“When is it ENOUGH.”
He sighed, then placed his hand over yours and gently removed it. “I do not wish to leave you,” he said. Then he straightened, held his head up, shoulders back. There was the detached impassiveness he had utilised before, a distance to allow him to speak of things—but this was a new blankness. Shut off entirely, his mask in place once more. He had let it fall aside far too long.
It still made your chest ache, there was a weight of dread you could not shake, because it remained like an icy undertow to drag either of you under at any moment. But cracked his neck, and made one of those little gestures with his hands, and carried himself once more with something that was not quite confidence, not arrogance, but an innate power that was both imperceptible and undeniable.
Inhuman, yet all too human. Yet in the end, he was simply… Dark.
“Wilford will be upset,” he sighed.
Perhaps so. Though, disappointed though anyone may have been at Dark absconding from his own birthday, it felt churlish to hold it against him when Dark was—
Dark was dying.
Maybe. God, you prayed not, but still his spirit felt faded and worn. Jaded and torn.
Lost in your thoughts, it took you by surprise when Dark took your jaw in his hand and lifted your head to face him. There was a comforting familiarity in the coolness of his skin, the soft static of his auras where they brushed against you. What ought once have been a strange and disturbing sensation, but had long since felt like home.
“Forget this,” Dark commanded.
“I won’t forget.” You turned your cheek, leaning into his touch. “But. I won’t tell anyone. You should, though.”
A short laugh, derisive, but it was not directed at you and you took no offence. “There is nothing to be gained,” he dismissed. True or not, it was clear the matter was closed.
“What do we do now?” you asked. Quietly, far more to the question than simply immediate concerns. However, those were all Dark addressed. Neither he nor you could have answered the wider, deeper matters waiting to be answered to anyway.
“Come. You will get cold out here if we stay much longer.”
Dark led, and you followed. It was a little easier to see than when you had stumbled your way after him on your descent; his auras where more vibrant, enough to offer some guidance through the darkness. They were steady, but an artificial steadiness that only came when Dark was very consciously holding himself in check.
It did little to ease the heaviness in your heart.
You knew this man. From the cut and stitching of his jacket, the soft waves of his hair, the shape of his heterochromatic eyes and the weary lines around them. To his soul; and despite everything, despite how shattered and how unrecognisable it had been left, despite being forged in hurt and hatred—for it all, his true nature still bubbled back to the surface. A mask could only be worn so long, after all. An act failed eventually. But what you saw was not at all Mark’s villain, but the one man—even in all his imperfections and mistakes, and knowing full well he had made his share—who you had yet seen offer the most kindness and forgiveness of anyone.
There would be gifts waiting, when you got back to the manor. The cake Wilford had baked, with the frosting starting to go just a little stale. Decorations, unused, lingering like desolate spirits in the dark of night.
What gift could you have possibly given him. What good were flowers, when the world was quietly crumbling to ruin. All the things you wanted to give him were far more intangible, and even if you tried, you didn’t think he could receive them. Hope. A moment’s peace. To feel cared for, to know he was not alone, when all the rest of the world stood against him.
Even the words of it felt ashen. Too many times they had been spoken, and too many times twisted into vitriol. How could you expect him to believe them.
“Dark…” you began, slowing to a halt.  You were nearly back, and somehow you didn’t want to return behind the walls just yet. You didn’t want Dark walled off just yet.
The courtyard closest to the manor was still in decent condition. It was where Dark retreated to most often, you with him sometimes. You tended the garden here, as best you could. There were still cracked pavers and sections of rotting trellis you simply had not the means to replace, but the roses were kept watered and neat, fallen leaves cleared away, new bulbs planted. It was a small space, but private, and yours.
That was where you stopped.
“One dance,” you requested. Dark raised an eyebrow, but he obliged.
He slowly drew you into a loose waltz position, but it was not in hesitance; more the way one might run their fingers along the spine of a well-worn book, an old favourite not touched in many years, and savour the scent and texture of forgotten familiarity.
There was no music, of course, but you hummed. He knew the song. In the crisp night air, painted with whisps of cloud but still clear enough to reveal the glimmering expanse of stars beyond. In this one small piece of garden, your secret garden, just about reminiscent of the grandeur of old times. The familiar movements, this old game of back and forth, charm and enticement, though there was no chase anymore. No need.
You were there.
He was there.
What gift could you give him… you couldn’t give him back things the way they were. It wouldn’t be the same. Even this small moment, if you could spin together beneath the moonlight forever, would still ache.
But you stayed until, as he had worried, the chill started to settle into your bones. You stayed, memorising the sharp curves of his jaw and cheekbones, the weight of his hair as it fell across his face, the lines of his palms and the firmness of his touch.
Dark was more than perceptive enough to feel when you shivered against him. He drew back, and this time, you thought, perhaps it was reluctance.
“Inside.”
It was beyond late, and deathly silent as you made your way through the doors. You ought part, and sleep; exhaustion had settled into your bones as surely as the cold. You knew it and Dark knew it.
He nodded. “Goodnight.”
“I see you,” you blurted. Fearful to let the silence linger, that he would be gone, and you would have done nothing, given him nothing. You repeated it, slower, with the reverence and weight you meant it with. “I see you.”
Dark paused, gazing over you with eyes that had seen a century pass and suffered enough for several. Then he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I know.”
A moment later and he was gone.
“Happy birthday,” you murmured to the bleak, hollow manor hall.
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Their Doll 5
Throw a punch
B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader
series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.
Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing
Chapter Summary: y/n finally beats Bucky, he has a surprise for her when she returns from her first mission.
Warnings: smut, violence, mention of death/murder
A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)
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3 years. 3 godforsaken, bloody torturous years. That's how long I'd been in this hell hole. How long I'd been repeatedly beaten up by my only form of solace daily. How long I'd been whipped for simply not being good enough to beat a super soldier. How long I'd endured endless torture. And today, today is the day that it will all end.
If there was one thing the last three years taught me, is that I should duck and run rather than throw a punch. At least that's what I thought, and I'd never really been willing to risk a broken jaw to prove my theory. That is, until today.
Come on, y/n, you can do this. The words were repeated in my mind, my own mantra, in order to psych myself up for what I was about to do. There was a fire grip on my arm - arguably much tighter than necessary - as the guards dragged my down the hollow hall to my training session with the Winter Soldier. Pft, more like two hours of humiliation and a sore ass, I though, a little smirk spreading on my lips at my own joke.
"What're you laughing about? Something funny, Stark?" The guard who had the grip on my arm spat through gritted teeth and the smirk was instantly ripped from my lips, instead reverting back to the hard expression I had been trying to maintain while around anyone who worked for HYDRA.
So basically everyone.
We walked in silence the rest of the way, like normal, and the guard roughly shoved my into the room by a hand between my shoulder blades, like normal. But today wasn't like normal - no, today was the day I was the one to throw a punch.
They removed the silencer from my head and let me take a gulp of water before The General was barking the order for us to begin.
I walked into the centre of the room, shoulders back and stare cold. The soldier's gaze matched mine as his cerulean eyes bore into my own, his jaw clenched and hands already curling into fists as I stood before him. We maintained the stare for a moment - almost as if the other was waiting for the other to make the first move, an open opportunity to take the win.
And so I did.
Using the speed I'd worked up to over time, I farted towards the soldier, ducking on a seconds notice as his metal fist flew out. I landed a jab to his stomach, one hard enough to make him cough slightly with the knocked up air but far from hard enough to actually make him stumble. Distracted, he barely noticed me as I slipped under him - through his legs out by his back, which I was quick to jump on. I let my legs wrap around his muscular waist and my left arm wrap around his throat, making the soldier grit his teeth and attempt to pry my arm away from his neck as he began to choke.
When he attempted to fling my forward, I tangled my right fist into his brown locks, yanking painfully and making the soldier cry out as I lowered my lips to his ear. Another thing I'd learnt in the past three years is that the soldier was only affected by my powers under two conditions:
One, he was off-guard or vulnerable - hence the choking - and two, I was as close to him as I could possibly get.
I began to him a soft tune - one I had discovered was most effective in lowering my opponent's defence and lulling them into a false sense of security. I practically smirked irksomely when I sensed his eyes rolling back in defeat and his assault on my arm falter - body falling limp and relaxed under the quell of my voice.
When I was sure I'd lowered his defences enough, I slowly climbed down from his back and admired my handy-work.
The Winter Soldier, stood dopey and barely lucid before me, without so much as the energy to even move his arm, let alone land a heavy punch like he normally would. I took my chance, the man nothing more than a pile of flesh and bones as my leg swept through his, bringing the soldier down the the ground with a loud noise that resembled a mixture of a crash and a thud.
Of course, the impact made my tune immediately ware-off and the soldier was now fully lucid, but I could barely contain myself as I punched my fists into the air triumphantly and a grin curled across my lips.
A lonely applause filled the tall room, bringing me back to earth as I realised the situation. Footsteps angled towards me, slow and calculated as the claps slowed to a stop, The General standing before me with a tight-lipped smile.
"Well done, Miss Stark." He congratulated, looking around him and outstretching his arms. "It only took you, what? Three years?" He mocked, the taunting laughter of the guards making me feel nauseous. But I kept my composure, returning his mocking, tight-lipped smile that didn't even dare go near my eyes - which were alright with anger. "And now your training is complete. We shall have to teach you how to use a gun, I suppose?" He said lazily. I clenched my jaw.
"I knew how to use a gun perfectly fine, General." I gritted and his eyes brows shot up as he turned to face his comrades.
"Did you hear that, gentlemen? Looks like she doesn't need another three years to learn to fire a gun? My, my, haven't we lucked out with this one?" He mocked cruelly, coming back to face my burning eyes. He smirked, grabbing my chin between his thumb and his finger and angling my head up to meat his eyes. "Take her away, and get her ready for her first mission." He demanded, eyes churning with something that resembled pride, but darker. He kept his eyes on me as he spoke, before roughly jerking my chin away and letting the guards refasten the silencer over my mouth before they were grabbing and arm each and dragging me from the  training room.
The pulled me back down the hollow hall - passing my usual cell.
"W-where are we going?" I asked, swallowing heavily as they halted to a stop in front of an unfamiliar door and we shoving me inside. There was nothing gentle about the HYDRA guards, not that I ever expected there to be.
Once I was in one of them tugged the door shut, the other throwing a bundle of clothes at me, which I fought as the flew at my chest. I opened the ball of fabric out, finding a skin-tight leather tactile suit - red HYDRA symbol embellished on either arm and over my heart - along with underwear and some black tactile boots.
The men stared at me expectantly, eyeing me up and down by never making the move to leave.
"Aren't you supposed to give me privacy to change?" I asked sheepishly. As humiliating it had been to be whipped for three years the sight toppled in front of these men, the idea of willingly getting changed while they were stood staring at me like I was a piece of meat made bile ride in my throat.
"I highly suggest you get to it, unless you'd like us to help out, of course." One of the guards said with a sickening expression, making me grimace and begin to tug my shirt over my head.
"And how about you do it...slowly, if you don't mind, Miss Stark." The other remarked, arms crossed over his chest as he bit his lip and glued his eyes intensely on my body.
I gulped, continuing to pull the shirt over my head. Oh boy, this was gonna be a long day.
Blood and soot cakes my nails, the icky feeling of the grime a haunting reminder of what I had just done. I was in the shower room, scrubbing the mud and blood from my body as quickly and efficiently as I could. I was used to cleaning my own blood from my skin, but the feeling of someone else’s just made me want to-
I shivered, hands shaking the the brush tumbling out of my grasp and clattering to the floor. I braced a hand on the wall, letting my head hang forward as I took a deep breath, before looking back up and wincing as the cold water streamed over me.
No hot showers at HYDRA. I hadn’t felt the feeling of warm water rush over me since the last time I had a long bubble bath back home...
I shook the thought off, carding my fingers through my hair and attempting to pick the dirt and gravel out of it. My breath was ragged as I felt a hot steam of air on my neck, the faint tickle of fingers brushing over my hips and up my body until two large hands - one flesh, one metal - caged my head to the tiled wall.
“Soldier...” I moaned breathily, letting my eyes slip shut at the feeling of his hot breath hitting the back of my neck. It was an intoxicating feeling, really, especially after being void of affectionate human contact for so many years. The soldier buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply before bringing his lips to my eye.
“I can’t stay away from you.” He murmured, flesh hand coming down to grab a handful of my ass roughly before letting go. I almost whined at the loss of contact before I felt a harsh spank against my right ass cheek. What surprised me the most was the expected cry of pain did not escape me, but rather a moan of pleasure.
I could feel the soldier’s smirk against my skin at my reaction, my eyes still shut as his hand trailed over my hip once again, before slipping down my front and running a finger through my wet folds. I jerked away as his fingertip brushed over my sensitive nub, pressing my lips together to surpress a needy groan at his low chuckle, the sound going straight to my core and causing a pang of arousal to dance through me.
“Ever been touched here before?” He husked in my ear and o shook my head, almost in embarrassment. “No?” He checked and I shook my head again. “I’ll try to be gentle.” He muttered, but before I could protest his cold with gliding through my folds, now coated in my wetness and slowly sheathing itself inside of me.
A raspy moan tore from my throat, the soldier groaning behind me as his hand moved to my hip in a vice-like grip. His cock stretched me beyond my limits, and to say it was painful was an understatement. After a moment of keeping his cock fully seated within me, the soldier pulled his hips back slowly before slamming back roughly. A burn formed in my cunt and I let out another moan, dropping my head forward to to cool shower wall when he thrusted into me again.
After a few more thrusts the pain started to dissipate, instead turning into a delicious and pleasurable burn that sent tingles through me. When one of my hands reached backwards to grip onto the soldier’s thigh, he took it as a signal to speed up snapping his hips into mine until the only thing that could be heard were our skin slapping together, my breathy and broken moans and the soldier’s frankly feral and animalistic growls and groans in my ear.
A sharp gasp crawled up my throat when his hand transferred from my hip down to my core, two fingers flicking at my bungle of nerves. I could feel every vein, every ridge, every part of him as I clamped down around him, throwing my head back to rest of his shoulder as his pace somehow increased again - fingers drawing tight and fast circles on my clit in time with his thrusts.
My knees buckled as I came with a shout, falling back into him as my legs gave up on me. He let out a growl as his thrusts faltered, a few more strokes and he was shooting his load deep into me. I winced as he pulled out, falling forwards into the wall as I tried to catch my breath - breathing laboured.
As I turned to face the soldier, maybe pull him into a kiss, he disappeared. It was like he had gone into thin air. The only trace of him left was his cum dripping down my thighs, tickling my skin.
297 notes · View notes
oddarin · 4 years
Text
It is one of the most meaningless thing I’ve done in time - all least-to-most ranks and just characters’ fact answers (those that with no pictures) from oficial Ask Arcana gathered in one place. Have no idea what that information could be used for and if it even useful but it kept me occupied and distracted from some life shit for a while, so let it be.
who is most to least likely to enjoy the movie Frozen? Lucio, Portia, Julian, Asra, Muriel, Nadia
Out of the cast, who is the most to least likely to be the jealous type? Portia, Lucio, Muriel & Nadia (tied), Julian, Asra
would you like to rank the characters from who cries most to least ugly? like from sniveling to shoujo manga tears? Muriel, Lucio, Julian, Portia, Asra, Nadia
who is the most to least superstitious Portia, Julian, Nadia, Lucio, Asra, Muriel
most to least excited to be at a WWE event Portia, Lucio, Asra, Julian, Nadia, Muriel
From worst to best at handling children Nadia, Lucio, Muriel, Asra, Portia, Julian
From worst to best for alcohol tolerance Muriel, Asra, Lucio, Julian, Portia, Nadia
Character ranking from best at keeping secrets to loose-liped gossip? Asra, Muriel, Nadia, Lucio, Portia, Julian
best to worst dancers? Asra, Portia, Julian, Nadia, Lucio, Muriel
Most to Least likely to slap you for stealing a mcnugget Nadia, Lucio, Asra, Portia, Julian, Muriel
Least to most likely to eat something weird (read: probably shouldn't be eaten) because of a dare? Nadia, Julian, Muriel, Lucio, Portia, Asra and not even on a dare
how old are each of the revealed characters? everyone is old, but in order of least old to most old: Asra, Portia, Muriel, Julian, Lucio, Nadia
Who's the best kisser? Who's the worst? Best kisser: Faust (good snake smooches) Worst kissers: Mercedes and Melchior (too much cronch)
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If the main 6 played MTG what color decks would they play? Asra: Blue Nadia: White Julian: Black (Portia made his for him) Portia: White/Green Muriel: Green Lucio: Red
How did cast look as babies? Nadia: The best baby, perfect in form and function Asra: A cute baby, always looking around Julian: Not the most handsome baby, a little gangly Portia: Round, squealing delightful baby Lucio: Red-faced screaming awful baby Muriel: Sturdy and well insulated for the long winter
Of the main six characters, which ones are capable of juggling and which ones would absolutely love doing needlepoint? capable of juggling: Portia, Asra, Muriel absolutely love doing needlepoint: Nadia, Julian incapable of juggling/ absolutely hate doing needlepoint: Lucio
what would the cast choose as their job in the mmo final Fantasy XIV? Julian: Dragoon Asra: Astrologian Lucio: Ninja, but he messes up the mudras Nadia: Machinist Portia: Summoner Muriel: Paladin
What would be the favorite attractions/rides of the cast at Disney? Julian: Pirates of the Caribbean Asra: Astro Orbiter Lucio: Tower of Terror (RIP) Muriel: Matterhorn Portia: California Screamin' Nadia: Carousel of Progress
What do the rest of the cast smell like? Nadia: Les Larmes Sacree Du Thebes by Baccarat Asra: Lord of Misrule Lush Shower Cream Julian: Leather seats in a rental car Portia: Cocoa butter and laundry soap Lucio: Fireball, Axe body spray & ass Muriel: myrrh
What board game would The Arcana gang be? Nadia: Clue Asra: Twister Julian: Sorry! Portia: Mouse Trap Lucio: Monopoly Muriel: Guess Who
Who do all the cast main in over watch? Nadia: Ana Asra: Sombra Julian: Reaper Portia: Zarya Muriel: Bastion Lucio: Genji
If everyone participated in a Winter Olympic sport, which one would they be in? Nadia: figure skate (singles) Asra: snowboarding Julian: alpine ski Portia: freestyle ski Muriel: luge Lucio: ice hockey
Main casts Starbucks orders? Julian: Black coffee and he flirts with the barista until it’s ready. Nadia: London Fog Latte. She comes in at exactly 8 every morning. Asra: Matcha latte unless there’s a new radioactive-looking Frappuccino flavor and then he gets that. Muriel: Waiting outside in the car, asks Asra to get him a water. Asra comes back with a hot chocolate and a cake pop. Muriel grumbles but accepts them every time. Lucio: Salted Caramel Mocha extra whip extra sprinkles nonfat no foam soy upside down actually coconut milk instead and then he yells at you if you get it wrong. Portia: Pink Drink and all the baristas get excited when she walks in because they love her and she always tips.
The cast as Kanye songs Nadia: Power Lucio: No Church in the Wild Asra: Love Lockdown Julian: Heartless Portia: Paranoid Muriel: Coldest Winter
Which characters would be in the fire, water, earth, and air nations? Slightly different from what you asked, but: Asra - waterbender Nadia - airbender Julian & Portia - non-benders Muriel - Earthbender Lucio - Firebender
What kind of parents are the cast at their child’s soccer game? Nadia: standing on the sidelines in sunglasses and heels biting her thumbnail and watching every move on the field because she doesnt trust the ref Asra: cheers whenever anything happens, takes as many kids as can fit in the car out for ice cream but doesn’t check with the parents Julian: chats up the other parents relentlessly and isn’t watching when his kid gets hit in the face with the ball Portia: “cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon cmon AW WHAT WAS THAT” Muriel: watching from the parking lot inside the car Lucio: yelling on the phone the whole time, spills all 24 oz of his salted caramel mocha on the bench and doesn’t do anything about it
Which Disney movie is the favorite of each of the cast? Nadia: Fantasia 2000 Asra: The Emperor’s New Groove Julian: Muppet Treasure Island Portia: Muppet Treasure Island Muriel: The Fox and the Hound Lucio: Cinderella 2: Dreams Come True
what kind of youtube channel would each character have (letsplay, cooking, craft, etc)? Asra: very unstructured mostly-cooking channel that also features videos of him just eating weird things, and videos of Faust existing and being cute Nadia: beauty guru with very polished high-end editing Julian: doesn’t know how to use youtube but Portia made an account for him and uploads her shaky/blurry phone videos of his jazz performances Portia: likes and comments on all of Nadia’s videos while occasionally posting cute cat vids Muriel: does not have an internet connection Lucio: extremely loud letsplayer, mostly FPS
What would the cast be as animal crossing villagers? Muriel: Cranky Bear Julian: Smug Eagle Portia: Uchi Cat Nadia: Snooty Ostrich Asra: Lazy Wolf Lucio: Jock Goat
What Fire Emblem Fates' classes would each character be? Asra - Diviner Nadia - Priestess Julian - Adventurer Portia - Maid Muriel - Wolfskin Lucio - Berserker
if the arcana cast were naruto characters, which ones would they be Portia: Naruto Muriel: Gaara Lucio: Orochimaru Julian: Itachi Asra: Kakashi Nadia: Fancy Shikamaru
If the characters of arcana watched rupaul's drag race who would be their faves? Nadia: bebe, raja, peppermint Asra: yara, aja, adore Julian: nina bo’nina, sasha, raven Portia: chichi, bob, ginger Lucio: willam, kimora, mimi imfurst Muriel: Latrice Royale
WHAT ARE THE CHARAS PREFERRED FLAVOR OF ICE CREAM? Nadia: Lavender Lemon Asra: Rainbow Sorbet Julian: Pistachio Portia: Cookie Dough Muriel: Rocky Road Lucio: Red Velvet
Please please arcana cast as mcr songs Lucio: It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Deathwish Julian: Thank You For The Venom Asra: Welcome To The Black Parade Muriel: House of Wolves Nadia: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison Portia: Give Em Hell Kid
What are the characters going to be for Halloween? Asra - glow-in-the-dark mermaid Nadia - [elegant ballgown interpretation of] a swan Julian - tortured vampire/werewolf hybrid Muriel - sheet ghost Portia - ninja turtle Lucio - slutty angel Faust - a very long hot dog
If you had to assign the characters from the Arcana to characters from Labyrinth who would they be? Nadia: Jareth Asra: Sara Julian: Sir Didymus Portia: Hoggle Muriel: Ludo Lucio: The Chilly Down birds
What's each character's favourite fruits? Nadia: Concord Grape Asra: Blue Raspberry Julian: Fig Portia: Banana Muriel: Lemon Lucio: Pomegranate
what's everyone's favorite season? Asra - spring Nadia - summer Julian - autumn Muriel - winter Portia - spring Lucio - summer
Who would the Arcana cast be in a cliche Noir Film? Nadia: boss with kinetic ball bearing desk ornament and brandy in the drawer Asra: first love turned old flame that you run into halfway around the world Julian: haggard scientist with an unbuttoned shirt scribbling on the walls Portia: wisecracking secretary who takes a bus a train and a ferry to work Muriel: ominous farmer that lets people use the phone after a car breaks down Lucio: raging starlet shattering a vase after being blacklisted by every studio
The Arcana cast as Michael Jackson songs? Nadia: Man in the Mirror Asra: You Are Not Alone Julian: Smooth Criminal Portia: Will You Be There Muriel: Ben Lucio: Bad
What would each character be in cats? This probably wasn’t supposed to be Cats the musical but if you think i’m gonna pass this up Nadia: None they’re all awful/ Munkustrap Asra: Mister Mistoffelees Julian: Macavity Portia: Jennyanydots Lucio: Rum Tum Tugger Muriel: Grizabella
what would their favorite emojis be? Asra: 🌚 Nadia: 🍷 Julian: 🎷 Portia: 👀 Muriel: 👁 Lucio: 💃💸😏👑
What panic at the disco songs describe each character best? Julian: Death of a Bachelor Asra: I Write Sins Not Tragedies Portia: She’s a Handsome Woman Nadia: Northern Downpour Lucio: Victorious Muriel: From a Mountain in the Middle of the Cabins
What stereotypes for a super cliché highschool do the characters fall into? Nadia: Valedictorian who has been doing independent study and hasn’t set foot in the building for the past two years Asra: Shows up late every class with loud ass Sunchips, does homework in glow in the dark gel pen Julian: Eats lunch with his teacher so they can keep talking about mitochondria Portia: Gets really hype about dances, always ends up fighting at dances Muriel: Puts away all the folding chairs that everyone left behind Lucio: Gets on the intercom to talk shit about the teacher who gave him a D+ on his plagiarized essay
What sports would the characters play? And would they be any good at those sports? Muriel: Any solitary sport. He likes track and shotput. Nadia: Swimming. She isn’t on a team, she just likes the water. Portia: Wrestling. She’s got a few championship belts. Julian: Grandma Devorak forced him to take One Sport in high school, and he chose long-distance running. Asra: Beach volleyball and snowboarding. He’s just there to have a good time. Lucio: Ice hockey, but he spends it mostly punching other players.
what dragons from books/movies/games match each character best, would you say? As for dragons, one of our writers plays Flight Rising obsessively so here’s every character as a Flight Rising breed. Asra: Fae Nadia: Imperial Lucio: Wildclaw Muriel: Guardian Julian: Skydancer Portia: Snapper
What is each character most likely to do with the mc when they're feeling 'unusually affectionate'? Nadia: feed them champagne grapes and engage them in conversation so she can watch them try to talk with their mouth full Asra: stare at them and stop acknowledging anyone or anything else Julian: preen and spoil them to the point of being a public embarrassment Portia: constant cuddly contact Muriel: follow them at a respectable distance Lucio: belt out an aria at the sight of them
What's everyone favorite manga if they read any in this world? Nadia: Rose of Versailles Asra: Yugioh Julian: Blackjack Portia: Ranma ½ Muriel: Hunter x Hunter Lucio: Berserk
how much does faust like all the characters? like, who does she like the most/least? does she like the main character at all? Faust adores the main character almost as much as she loves Asra. But if she had to choose from the rest: Most good smelling: Nadia Most fun to squeeze: Julian Most too big to eat: Muriel Most hard to hide from: Portia Most attackable: Lucio
what kind of drunk is everybody? Nadia: capable, professional drunk on the move. Never in the same room twice Asra: touchy-feely but won’t leave the couch, still somehow manages to catch on fire Julian: morphs into The Storyteller, everyone in earshot ends up caught in a dramatic reenactment of his life story waiting for him to take a breath but he never does Portia: makes 6 new friends in the bathroom line Muriel: moody, talks to no one, keeps taking everybody’s empty bottles out to the trash Lucio: the loudest, the drama, the legend, the first to dip out when the cops show up
Of the Characters: Who tells a dirty joke? Who doesn't understand it? Who is disgusted? Who laughs? Who hides a smile? Who gets annoyed? Lucio: tells a dirty joke Muriel: doesn’t understand it Julian: is disgusted Asra: laughs Portia: hides a smile Nadia: gets annoyed
What are the characters usual reactions when subbing their toes? Nadia: It Does Not Happen Asra: hops it off Julian: hissing, closes his eyes while he savors the pain Portia: (string of curses) “ok………. i’m fine” Muriel: doesn’t notice because his toes are too far away Lucio: shrieks, revenge kicks the wall, shrieks harder
what you think everyones deadly sin would be? the deadly cliches: Nadia - Pride Asra - Lust Julian - Wrath Portia - Envy Muriel - Sloth Lucio - Gluttony
On a scale of good to bad, who sings karaoke? Nadia has a silky voice with impeccable vibrato. But she only sings karaoke alone in the bath. Asra has an airy, intimate voice. He’s the worst at karaoke because he doesn’t even get up off the couch. Julian has very limited singing ability, but he will talk sing the whole way through if he has to. He’s great at duets, somehow. Portia has a throaty, powerful voice. She brings the house down with Heart and Bonnie Tyler ballads, even if she squeaks on the high notes. Muriel has a gravelly grumble that he is convinced is useless for singing and if you hand him the microphone he’ll drop it and go stand in the corner. Lucio has an overdone musical theater voice but he is tone deaf. He will shout out the high notes and power through the rest and if you try to skip his song there will be hell to pay
which social media platform which each character Prefer™ ? Asra - twitter (RTs a lot of memes and shitposts, posts incomprehensible dril-like tweets at 3am) Nadia - instagram (flawless makeup and aesthetic™) Julian - yahoo answers Portia - snapchat Muriel - what is social media Lucio - LinkedIn (you will NEVER stop getting email notifications from him)
what dnd classes would the cast be (like mage, assassin, cleric etc)? Nadia: Paladin Asra: Warlock Julian: Rogue Portia: Bard Muriel: Fighter Lucio: Barbarian
what would each characters spice girl name be Asra: Mystery Spice Nadia: Boss Spice Julian: Suffering Spice Portia: Sassy Spice Muriel: Surly Spice Lucio: Spicy Spice
how complicated is each character's personal hygiene routine? Nadia’s personal hygiene routine: an exact science and takes a practiced team of servants to execute. Julian’s personal hygiene routine: splashing his face 5-7 times and gargling with his famous mint vodka peroxide formula Asra’s personal hygiene routine: sticking his head underwater until he’s awake Portia’s personal hygiene routine: putting her hair in a bun and scrubbing herself with a cloth and bucket down by the frog pond Lucio’s personal hygiene routine: milk and caviar bath every 13 hours Muriel’s personal hygiene routine: standing in the pouring rain
What's everyone's favorite alcoholic drinks? Asra - St Germain, tequila, blue curaçao,  lime juice, hibiscus syrup (serve in a champagne flute or martini glass, garnished with a wildflower or tiny umbrella) Julian - whiskey, Kahlua, Grand Marnier, lemon juice (serve in a highball glass) Nadia - Chambord, white wine, seltzer (serve in a wine glass, chilled or on the rocks) Portia - beer & apple cider with a shot of rum (serve in a lowball glass) Muriel - Baileys, butterscotch schnapps, hot chocolate (serve warm, in your coziest mug) Lucio - Jägermeister & Goldschläger topped with overproof rum (serve as a flaming shot)
what would be each of the characters' favorite genre of music? Asra: Bossa Nova and EDM Nadia: Obscure Opera and Calming beach sounds Julian: 20 minute tracks of Quality Jazz Portia: Reggae and dad rock Muriel: New wave and white noise Lucio: Top 40 and Dark Funky Disco
who would the arcana characters be from mean girls?? Asra: the guy who asked what day it was Nadia: cady Julian: gretchen weiners Portia: janis Lucio: regina george Muriel: damian
Which Hogwarts house would each of the Main Cast belong in? Asra & Julian - Ravenclaw Nadia - Slytherin Portia & Muriel - Hufflepuff Lucio - Gryffindor
What would the characters modern!au job/career of choice be? Lucio owns and manages several nightclubs and has a trashy daytime talk show Asra does really low-budget magic shows at kids’ birthday parties by day, and DJs at one of Lucio’s clubs at night Nadia is the city mayor, an international chess champion, and concert pianist Portia works at Home Depot (used to be a waitress at Red Lobster but the tips were terrible), but she wants to be a zookeeper Julian is a doctor at an underfunded hospital with lots of drama Muriel lives off the grid in a broken-down van in the woods
Just due to mild curiosity what would be the casts favorite musicals? Asra - Legally Blonde: The Musical Nadia - Chicago Julian - Les Mis Muriel - Wicked Portia - Cats! Lucio - Phantom of the Opera / Kinky Boots (it’s a tie)
what cryptid is every character Asra = Chupacabra Julian = Mothman Nadia = Nessie Portia = Loveland Frog Muriel = Bigfoot Lucio = Jersey Devil
how would the game's characters celebrate the MC's birthday with them?? Asra would take them on a long journey without telling them where they were going (but would keep them entertained with riddles) to a scenic oasis, where he would pretend to drown so MC has to dive into the water and at the bottom is a magic flute that can summon a swarm of bees (their favorite!) Nadia would throw a tastefully brief festival in their honor. MC would be lavished with pampering (by professional pamperers) from dawn to dusk and when the clock struck midnight, they would be presented with seven bejeweled eagles (one for every day of the week) Julian would meet them for dinner in a shady tavern, bring them heaping plates of food and offer unsolicited advice for the coming year. About halfway through the meal he would have to scramble out the back door because law enforcement arrived on the scene but he’d put it an order in the kitchen to bring them something for dessert Lucio would declare the day a holiday and call it Day of the Beloved One of Lucio. They would have to sit uncomfortably still while a master artiste painted their portrait and a mile-long line of peasants laid gifts at their feet. Muriel doesn’t celebrate birthdays because time is a human construct Portia would throw a big loud party with a barbecue :D
Since it is soon, what would the characters do for Valentines day with us (the MC)? Nadia would take you on an elegant river cruise stocked with 130 varieties of tiny cake and a private crooner hired to serenade you but she would end up throwing them overboard for not hitting the high notes Asra would take you to the mall and splurge on all the stuff you both can’t afford but wait way too long to get lunch so you get into a fight and he proposes in the food court Julian would show up on the 15th after with all the candy he scored at 75% off, pretend it was on purpose that he got the day wrong, and wake you up at 3 am to come clean because the guilt was eating him alive Muriel would light some scented candles, cook up a sensual meal and throw a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace for you to enjoy alone while he escapes into the woods Portia would pack a picnic of chicken and tortilla chips, take you to the beach where you could splash around until the sun goes down and lull you to sleep on the sandy blanket with her acoustic guitar Lucio would have servants fill your room with floor to ceiling flowers while you sleep and wait impatiently for you to wake up like
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Would you roommate with any of the characters? it’s hard to decide, so here are some pros and cons Asra - pro: never home / con: leaves dishes in the sink for weeks Nadia - pro: your home will be spotless / con: it’s spotless because she orders you to clean it for her Julian - pro: medical professional / con: half of your apartment is now this
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rate the characters on how #extra they are Muriel: 4/10 Lucio: 13/10 Everyone else: 10/10
Which character could be best described as "tender"?? "Spicy"??? “tender”: Muriel “tender”/“Spicy”: Asra, Portia “Spicy”/”tender”: Julian, Nadia “Spicy”: Lucio
what the favorite Pokemon of all the characters were. Asra - Ekans, Delphox, Espeon Nadia - Noctowl, Gardevoir, Musharna Julian - Absol, Bisharp, Murkrow Portia - Chansey, Politoed, Hoothoot Muriel - Pangoro, Aggron, Wigglytuff Lucio - Houndoom, Pyroar, Skarmory
686 notes · View notes
stolethekey · 3 years
Text
i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side
hello! this is for the (final!) @b99fandomevents—i can’t believe how far these two (and this show) have come, and i’m gonna miss them so much. i got to write this for @amydancepants-peralta, who wanted a fic where jake and amy have a disatrous first date, and then amy decides to transfer to chicago—jake has three days to convince her to stay.
enjoy! (you can also read this on ao3.)
It’s their first date, and it’s a disaster.
Neither of them has said anything in the ten minutes since they’ve sat down. Jake buries his nose into the menu, hoping that he looks occupied enough with choosing an entrée to excuse the heavy silence that has settled over the table. A few feet away, in the other side of the booth, Amy does the same thing.
A young man in a pressed suit and tie approaches their table, a small, nervous smile on his face. “Are you all ready to order?”
“Yes!” Amy nearly leaps at the chance to talk to someone who is not Jake. Jake tries not to feel too hurt by the desperate excitement in her voice. “I’ll take the chicken piccata, please.”
Jake lingers around the chicken parmesan but ends up going with a steak, because he’s determined to show Amy and maybe himself that he can eat like an adult. They pass their silk-embossed menus to the waiter, sip their waters, and suddenly it’s too quiet again.
“You got a haircut,” Jake notices, wringing his hands nervously under the table.
“It looks nice.”
“Thanks.”
There is a beat of silence that stretches just a little too long, and then Jake says, “This is awkward.”
Amy chokes out a laugh. “Yeah.”
Another moment passes. Jake swallows the non-existent saliva in his mouth. Their waiter, mercifully, returns with their food a few minutes later. Jake doesn’t want him to leave. He does, of course, and then they’re left in that terrible silence again.
Jake makes it through half his steak before speaking again. “Should we, um, just get really drunk?”
Amy grimaces, reaching for her water. “I don’t think so.” Her voice is quiet, almost defeated. “If we can’t do this sober, what’s the point?”
Something twists uncomfortably in Jake’s stomach, but he stabs his fork into his a piece of broccoli anyway. - It’s the day after their first date, and Amy asks for a transfer.
Jake learns about this through a wail from the evidence lockup that he hears from a good twenty yards away. He bursts through the door, frantic, to find Charles curled in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.
Charles gets out the details in between sobs, or at least enough details that Jake gets most of the picture. Amy put in a transfer to Chicago, it’s been granted on account of an emergency vacancy that needs to be filled, and she has three days left at the Nine-Nine.
“Three days,” Charles gasps, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Three days, you have to convince her to stay, Jake, you have to—”
“Hold on,” Jake says desperately, watching Charles dab at his face with a completely saturated tissue. “Let me get you another box of Kleenex.”
He opens the door to leave and runs straight into the source of Charles’s despair, in the flesh.
“Oh,” says Amy.
Jake closes the door behind him before Charles can see her and have a heart attack, then crosses his arms. “Is it true? Are you leaving?”
Amy has the grace to look self-conscious, shuffling her feet and shoving her hands in her pockets. She nods, and Jake feels strangely like the walls are swimming around him.
It just makes sense, she says. She has family there, and New York is too crowded, too expensive, and maybe Chicago is a better place to live anyway.
“Is this because of me?” Jake demands. “Because of…you know…our date?”
“No, of course not.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.
Jake scoffs before stalking past her into the bullpen, ignoring her half-hearted call of his name. He blinks back the hot, furious tears forming in his eyes, and internally he starts a calendar. - On Day One, Jake calls in sick to work.
He responds to the “r u ok??” texts from Charles, Rosa, Gina, and Terry with a copy-and-pasted “I’m ok. Just feeling gross.” He ignores the ones that mention Amy. He also pretends like he doesn’t notice that Amy hasn’t sent him anything.
The morning is spent mindlessly scrolling through his social media beneath his blankets, with no regard for time or his grumbling stomach.
At noon, Charles posts a picture of the squad from Halloween with the caption “Gonna miss my favorite Halloween-hater. #SayonaraSantiago.” Jake decides he’s had enough Instagram for the day and finally hauls himself out of bed.
He orders a pizza, then turns his phone off and the TV on. Inadvertently, the pizza becomes both lunch and dinner and one Die Hard movie becomes a marathon—and before he knows it, the sky outside his apartment is dark.
“Well, that was productive,” Jake mutters, brushing the pizza crumbs off his lap before standing up to toss his trash into the garbage.
On Day Two, they aren’t talking to each other.
Amy looks up almost timidly as he walks out of the elevator, then waits until he reached his desk to let out a small, hesitant “Hi.”
Jake grabs the file waiting for him on his desk and walks out of the bullpen without looking at her.
So, strictly speaking, this is mostly his fault.
That fact does not do anything to quell the mixture of anger and hurt writhing in his stomach. He spends the day furiously completing paperwork in an empty interrogation room, jabbing his pen so furiously into the paper that he rips a hole in an I-918 and has to start over.
At noon, Rosa stops by with a turkey sub, which she drops wordlessly on the desk in front of him before sliding back out the door.
At five, he has completed more paperwork than he has in the last month combined. He drops the stack of files on Terry’s desk, forces a smile, and says, “Finally caught up on all those forms you’ve been hounding me about.”
Terry, his eyes piercing and slightly concerned, does not laugh. “Dismissed.”
It’s Day Three, and Holt has had enough.
He assigns Jake and Amy to label evidence in the lockup together, much to Jake’s chagrin. Amy turns and speeds off without a word. Jake turns towards Holt with a big, reproachful protest on the tip of his tongue but is cut off by Holt’s raised eyebrows and stern expression.
“Peralta, you need to get over yourself.”
“What?”
“You need to get over yourself,” Holt repeats. “Your partner of six years is leaving tomorrow, and you haven’t spoken to her in three days.”
Jake snorts, crossing his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, she’s leaving because of me, so—”
“I’m not sure that matters,” Holt says, not unkindly. “If you let her leave like this, you might never get the chance to talk to her again.”
Jake stares at the ground, furiously attempting to dig a hole in the ground with his toe.
“I know you don’t want this to be the way things end.” Holt’s voice is gentle, and Jake can’t bring himself to look up. “It would be unwise to let your pride get in the way of your last chance to save your friendship.”
“Whatever,” Jake mutters irritably, but something uncomfortable has begun to form in his gut. “Gimme that Sharpie so I can go write case numbers on a bunch of ziplock bags.”
Jake does not, in fact, get over himself—at least not for the first few hours. He chooses to instead label evidence in the same furious silence that has occupied his past three days, pretending he doesn’t see the furtive, almost timid glances Amy throws his way every few minutes.
Then he walks to a bodega for lunch and realizes mid-chew that this is Amy’s last lunch at the Nine-Nine, and the uncomfortable thing in his stomach grows a lot bigger.
He finally swallows his pride on his walk back to the precinct, and when he re-enters the evidence lockup the thing in his stomach has started feeling a lot more like guilt.
Amy walks in a few minutes after him, tossing a balled-up sandwich wrapper into the trash, and notices that he’s watching her. “You have something to say to me?”
“Yeah, actually,” Jake says quickly. “I do.”
She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, and Jake’s heart sinks a little.
“I—uh—I’m sorry,” Jake says. “For how I reacted, and for icing you out the past few days. It was immature of me, and stupid, and I should’ve been an adult about it, but—well, I guess we both know I suck at that sometimes.”
Amy snorts, but her expression has softened slightly. “Thank you.”
“And I’m gonna make it up to you,” Jake continues, almost determinedly. “We’re gonna make this the best day you’ve ever had at the Nine-Nine.”
Amy laughs slightly. “I don’t think that’s possible, given the amount of work we have left.”
“Who cares?” Jake shrugs. “The best part of work has always been the people anyway.”
And for all the organizational skills Jake may lack, he sure knows how to delegate. All it takes is a couple text messages to a new, Amy-less precinct group chat and the rest of the Nine-Nine is off. Gina cashes in on a favor and gets Shaw’s to close its doors for the evening. Rosa makes a last-minute motorcycle trip to a local party store and uses a sizable amount of cash and her surprising aesthetic skill to acquire a large box of decorations. Charles says, “leave the food to me,” and no one is brave enough to question him about it.
Jake stays with Amy on the floor of the evidence lockup. They talk and laugh as they work, reminiscing about their years at the Nine-Nine and the particularly memorable perps they’ve brought in.
There’s also a supercut of the stuff that wasn’t work at all—the precinct parties, Charles saving Thanksgiving, the Boyle-Linetti wedding. There are the Halloween heists, the Jimmy Jabs, and there’s the Bet, with a capital B. Neither of them mentions the last one, but Jake is definitely thinking about it.
“Remember that time Terry tried to do the full bullpen and almost knocked a tooth out?” Amy asks, grinning widely. “I thought Sharon was gonna pull him out of the force immediately.”
“You have no faith,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I knew she’d let him stay.”
“You did not.” Amy points at him, narrowing her eyes. “You were so scared when she came to pick him up.”
“I was not—”
“So scared. I’ve never seen a grown man visibly tremble like that, but—”
“God, shut up.” Jake throws a balled-up piece of tape at her, and she laughs. It’s a real one, this time, one that’s bright and infectious.
They let it fade into a gentle silence, one that’s more comfortable than the ones of the past few days.
There’s a beat, and then Jake says, “Don’t go to Chicago.”
He expects Amy to be surprised by this change of subject—to recoil and give an affronted, “what?”
Instead, she sighs, long and slow, and closes the manila folder in front of her. “Jake—”
“I mean, I know it’s your decision, and I respect that,” Jake says quickly. “And if you truly meant what you said to me earlier, about how it’s important to be near your family and it’s a better place for you to live and you’ve grown out of New York—if that’s really the reason you’re leaving, then that’s fine. Just tell me, and I’ll shut up about it and we can just have a big blowout goodbye party and you can leave.”
Amy picks at the edge of her boot and says nothing.
“But if it’s not—if you’re leaving because of what happened on our date—I don’t want to be the reason you give this up, Amy. I know how much you love it here, and this place loves you too. Captain Holt is a phenomenal mentor to you, we both know that, and you might not get that in Chicago—you’ve done so much good work here that I know you’re proud of, and I can’t be the reason you don’t have that anymore.”
Amy looks at him, her eyes a stormy mix of unreadable emotions, but still doesn’t say anything.
“Look,” Jake says, splaying out his hands in front of him. “That date was kind of a disaster, we both know that. And I think it’s because we were both trying too hard, because we cared too much. Because we’re friends, Amy, and that’s what’s most important to me.”
He takes a deep breath, then says, “I don’t care if we never date. I don’t care if I never get to hug you, or kiss you, or do any of the things I’ve so desperately wanted to do. I just can’t lose your friendship. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, and an even better friend, and I would be more than happy to just be friends with you for the rest of my life. God knows it’s more than I deserve.”
“You deserve plenty,” Amy says softly.
Jake swallows the way that makes his chest flutter. “I’m just saying—I’m laying my cards all out on the table, here. I want you to stay, and I respect it if you don’t want that. But please don’t let me be the reason for you leaving.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Amy gives him a small, wistful smile that says everything Jake needs to hear.
“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Party at Shaw’s it is, then.”
Amy slaps the last label on a duffle bag, checks her watch, and stands. “I’m actually taking off early—I need to clear up some stuff at City Hall before I leave. I’ll meet you there?”
“Oh,” Jake says, a little dumbfounded.
Amy notices his expression and shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s not—I mean, this has been settled for days, Holt knows, I was always leaving at three today. So it’s not, like, spontaneous, you know. I would’ve told you earlier, but—"
“I was being an ass. Yeah.”
Amy gives him that little sad smile again, and Jake wants to kick a wall. “I’ll see you at the bar,” she says, almost gently.
Jake forces a smile and nods. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.” - When he pushes through the doors of his favorite bar a few hours later, Jake is expecting loud music, streamers, and—if Gina’s Instagram stories were credible—possibly Mario Lopez. Instead, the bar is completely empty.
There are no balloons, no decorations—the only set table is in the middle of the floor, and on it sits a pizza, two salads, and two glasses of water.
“What—what is this?” Jake mutters, mostly to himself.
“A dinner between two friends,” Amy says, emerging from behind the bar. She gives him a small, slightly nervous smile. “And if it goes well, a second date.”
Jake blinks.
“You were right,” Amy tells him, carrying a bottle of wine and two wine glasses to the table. “Our friendship is the most important thing, here, and it means a lot to both of us. I mean, that’s why we were trying so hard in the first place, right? Neither of us wanted it to fail.”
Jake nods in silent assent, not trusting whatever his mouth would say if he let it.
“But it did fail. Miserably.”
“Uh-huh,” Jake says, somewhat stupidly.
“So the worst thing that could happen has already happened, and we’ve gotten through it. And I think—I think, now, having gone through the past few days, we know enough to give it another shot. As long as we set very clear boundaries.”
“Boundaries,” Jake repeats. “Boundaries are good.”
“Yeah,” says Amy with a slightly amused smile. “So, we’re friends. Really good friends. And that’s what we have to protect, above anything. So this is not necessarily a date. It’s a dinner, and we’re a pair of very good friends who are gonna eat it. And if we want to, afterwards, we can decide to call it a date.”
“Can you do that?” Jake asks. “Label something a date after it’s already happened?”
“Who cares?” Amy smirks. “Since when have you followed rules?”
Jake swallows and shrugs.
“Anyway, if it’s awkward, or weird, then we move past it. It’s a slightly awkward moment between friends that doesn’t have to mean anything. No more silent treatment, no more rash decisions, just two friends who are still friends afterwards. Got it?”
“Afterwards,” Jake says slowly. “So—Chicago—”
“Yeah, I’m not going,” Amy says, her eyes sparkling. “That was a dumb thing I did to avoid this guy I went on a terrible date with.”
A broad grin starts to make its way across Jake’s face. “He sounds like he sucks.”
Amy laughs, then pulls out a chair and points at it. “So—pizza?”
The grin on Jake’s face softens into something smaller, something gentler. “Definitely.”
They each take a slice, then a bite, and Jake will never admit it—but it’s the best Meat Supreme he’s ever tasted.
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hawksward · 3 years
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Wolves in Sheep's Clothing Ch. 3: Let the Games Begin (Childe/OC)
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Since being granted a vision at the tender age of 10, Irina has owed her life to the Tsaritsa and dedicated herself to rising through the ranks of the Fatui. In becoming a top-ranking diplomat she’s received her easiest assignment yet: ensure the 11th Fatui Harbinger remains ignorant of La Signora’s plan to obtain the gnosis of Rex Lapis. A simple task for someone who’s made a career out of lying.
Unfortunately, even the simplest tasks can go awry when feelings get in the way.
Rating: E (For eventual smut)
Warnings: Violence, there will eventually be smut
The next morning came too quickly. She had plans to run a few of her own errands before the boat arrived. It seemed like bad karma when she overslept and had to rush out to make it in time. Irina maneuvered through the crowds with ease, her pace quickening as she continued down the slope to the wharf.
By the time she reached the bottom the boat was nearly completely unloaded. She looked for anyone free, or even a stack of letters on a crate.
“Are you here for the letters, miss?” An older man stepped from behind her holding a large pile of envelopes wrapped in twine “Ekaterina mentioned someone different would be picking up today”
“Yes. That’s me.” She took the stack of letters and casually flipped through the recipients. There were plenty for people she was unfamiliar with, most likely those who were on assignment further away from the bank as she didn’t get out of the city much. A letter for Ekaterina, most likely from her grandmother that she spoke of often.
Then at the very bottom, there was a small stack solely for Childe. She knew he had a large family waiting for him back in Snezhnaya, courtesy of Ekaterina and her extensive knowledge of everything that had to do with his business. Including the number of zeroes attached to his bank account. She peeked at the return addresses, all of which were the same. His family must have written him one letter each.
“Did we miss one for you?” The man asked, “It looks like you didn’t find what you were looking for.”
“No, none for me. Not a big mail person. Thanks for the hard work. Safe travels back to the motherland.” Irina gave him a curt nod before making her way to the lower market by the docks.
The letters weighed heavy in her arm as she stood in line for pastries. It never mattered before that she didn’t have anyone back home. She served the Tsaritsa. if anything not having a family made her a better tool for the woman she owed everything to.
Irina left the docks with a large basket filled with almond biscuits when she was knocked out of the way by a child sprinting through the crowd. Shortly after the girl disappeared from view a millelith soldier rushed after her, pushing bystanders out of the way.
“Stop! Thief!”
It’s not your business. Take your biscuits and get to work.
She let out a loud sigh as she followed through the openings in the crowd the soldier left. When she finally reached the end of the market, the soldier had cornered the girl, who was clutching something in her hands.
“Give it here, kid” the man held out his hand to the girl, who couldn’t have been older than 10, but she continued to hold the object even tighter.
“Is there an issue here, sir?” Irina walked up next to the man, her eyes on the girl in front of her. She recognized the fear. It wasn’t of being caught, it was the fear of having whatever was in her hand ripped from her.
“Nothing we need the Fatui to deal with.” He grumbled, “When the thief gives back what she stole I’ll be on my way.”
Irina ignored the soldier as she knelt in front of the child “can you show me what’s in your hand?”
The girl released her fingers around a small pouch filled with coins, “I need it. My brother is sick and he needs food”
“Typical lying street vermin. All the same lying about some non existent sick family member.” The guard scoffed
Sure, the girl could be lying. But her clothes were ratty and her shoes looked like they were a day away from falling off her feet. Even if she didn’t have a sick brother, she desperately needed the mora.
Irina stood, pulling the pouch of coins from her pocket before shoving it at the officer “That should be more than enough to cover the small amount she took as well as compensation for the victim. We’re done here.”
“Wait just a minute- you don’t get to decide that the kid doesn’t get punished.”
“Oh but consider this. I do.” She began, a sadistic smile creeping over her features “If you push this any further I will find every skeleton in your closet and expose them for the world to see. Even if you don’t have anything too interesting, I am Fatui after all. I can be creative.”
“You can’t do that. I’m a member of the millelith. You can’t just blackmail me without consequence!”
“But who would believe you? Your only witness is a child. I’m an esteemed guest of the Qixing. Who do you think they will side with to avoid diplomatic incident?”
The air temperature dropped ten degrees around her, she could feel the itch in her hands to use her power. Her patience was wearing thin.
“Fine. I’ll pay back the victim with your blood money.” The officer spit on the ground in front of her feet before turning and walking away.
Irina turned back around to the girl, grabbing a handful of almond biscuits and placing them in her hands. “Get back to your brother. Next time you need mora come to the Northland Bank. We have plenty of letters that need to be delivered around the harbor.”
“Thank you miss.” The girl looked up at her before immediately averting her eyes again “I will.”
——
The moment Irina stepped into the bank she didn’t have time to breathe. Ekaterina was on her before she could say a word about the giant pile of biscuits in her basket.
“There you are! Master Childe has been looking for you.”
Irina placed the basket on the counter before the woman “He’s looking for me? He’s the one who told me not to come in until after I’ve gotten the mail from the boat.”
Her mind was already cycling through every possible scenario. The millelith guard had already somehow managed to report to the Qixing and now Childe had heard. He found out about the contract between Signora and Zhongli. He was pissed about her showing up 30 minutes late with biscuits.
“Well the basket is filled with almond biscuits for everyone. Also here’s this weeks mail. I’ll take Master Childe his since he’s apparently dying to see me.”
Most likely she would be the one dying after this exchange. She quietly ascended the stairs, wondering how the rest of the staff would react if their boss murdered her in his office. Childe’s office was at the very end of the curved hall. She took a deep breath before knocking loudly on the elaborate door.
“It’s open.”
Irina carefully pushed the door open, stepping into the room. Childe’s office was easily five times the size of her own, with plenty of space for meetings with large bank clients. A lot of space to make them disappear as well.
“Ekaterina mentioned that you were looking for me. I brought some almond biscuits for the staff on my way back from the boat.”
Childe looked up from his desk, a large grin spread across his face. Irina’s heart sunk further into her stomach.
“You took your time. Are those for me?” He stood from his desk and closed the distance between them with his long strides. He plucked the small pile of envelopes from her hand before flipping through them, “I can always tell by the seal they use on the back”
“Are we getting to the part where you tell me why you were looking for me?”
“So pushy.” He gently tossed the letters on the desk before turning around to face her again “I need a sparring partner and all of the other vision users are on assignment out of the city. So, I’ve cleared your calendar for the day.”
“You did what?” Irina was horrified “I had a lunch set with the Qixing, they’re not going to take a last minute cancellation lightly! I’m not even combat oriented!”
Childe let out a sigh, crossing the room again to stand in front of her “As a vision holder I know you’ve received basic Fatui combat training.” He tapped the cryo vision centered at her clavicle “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
Her body moved before she could even think, her right hand grabbing his in a vice grip. She could feel the ice tingling in her fingertips as she moved his hand away from her chest before letting go. His hand red at the sudden cold.
“I have work to do here. In Liyue Harbor. I can’t just drop all of my responsibilities at your whim.” Her hands returned to her sides as she balled them into fists. She was sure she’d pissed him off at this point.
“You can because I say so. I’m Tartaglia. This is my jurisdiction. And what I say goes.” He took a step back, looking down at her, “You also now owe me for giving me mild frostbite.”
——
The view from the mountain overseeing the city would have been beautiful if she wasn’t dreading the reason she was there. Childe dragged her up a mountain, insisting that it was the best place for a sparring match. Less collateral damage that way.
While she could appreciate Childe not destroying the city on a whim, she wished he wouldn’t have decided to destroy her as well. He was a harbinger. One of the Tsaritsa’s elite warriors. She was a diplomat and a military dropout.
Everything Signora said about him flooded back as once. He was an eye of the storm. He would rather solve problems with a sword than with words. Zero tact. A brute.
“This will work.” He took a look at the surroundings before bringing his attention to Irina “What do you say, Aster? Ready to fight me?” He pulled his bow off his back, knocking an arrow made of water.
She let out a long sigh. The short answer was no. She pulled her catalyst from her bag and allowed it to float beside her. She tossed the bag to the side, bringing her palm across her face to form a mask made of ice. Maybe if she felt like she was back in a combat role she’d fare a little better.
Doubtful.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The moment the last word left her mouth he released his arrow straight at her chest. Irina summoned a large wall of ice, causing the arrow to shatter on impact. She watched as Childe shot off more arrows only to continue to shatter on the ice.
Eventually, he grew bored of arrows and tossed his bow to the side. He manifested two short swords out of water, holding both in a reverse grip. The smile on his face grew bigger as he closed the distance between them. Slowly at first, then with a quick lunge that shattered her ice shield on impact.
Irina stumbled back before regaining her footing. She threw another shield to block the next incoming blow. Once again it shattered. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up.
With a flick of her hand, the shards from the shield flew at him. He parried every shard with ease, the smile never once leaving his face.
“Yes! Just like that!” He spun a sword in his hand “and she says she can’t fight!”  his normally bright laugh put her on edge.
She suppressed a chill that wasn’t from her vision. Irina took in a deep breath before using all her air to blow a stream of cold. The water in the air before her quickly turned to ice, dropping in pellets as it continued toward her opponent.
Childe watched in amusement as his feet froze to the ground, the ice crawling up his legs to hold him in place. It was certainly impressive, but he could see its weakness with ease.
The force of his forward momentum broke the ice holding him to the ground. It happened so quickly. Irina quickly turned to see him coming with his sword at her neck. She quickly summoned ice to her hands and up her arms, hardening it as quickly as she could.
Her arm came up to block the blow from her neck. The ice covering her arm cracking beneath the pressure, but still managing to hold. Her eyes were wide. A half-second slower and he could have killed her.
She didn’t have time to process what that meant before a blow came from the other side, followed by another and another. Irina had both her arms up, desperately trying to block each blow, being forced back with each consecutive hit.
Was this the difference in strength between a normal vision user and a harbinger? He wasn’t even using his delusion. He probably wasn’t even using his full strength with his normal vision.
She felt the ice on her left arm shatter with the last blow. The force pushed her back again, but this time there was no ground underneath her foot. She was too busy trying to dodge sword strikes to notice that she’d been pushed back to the edge of the cliff.
She felt her center of gravity shift backward, followed by down. A terrible way to die really. During a sparring match because she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.
Her momentum stopped abruptly, her arm nearly jolting out of its socket before she was pulled back from her imminent demise. Straight in the arms of something far more dangerous.
Her face smacked straight into Childe’s chest, his hand still gripped around her arm. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.
“You…” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath “You nearly killed me!”
“ I nearly killed you?” He laughed “You managed that all on your own.” He let go of her arm.
Irina pushed herself off him, careful to make sure that she was no longer near an edge. “I might be a diplomat but I can sense intent to kill. You took a sword to my neck. It’s lucky I managed to block in time.”
“A sword made of water. You think so little of me.” He made a show of summoning a sword into his hand, only for it to disappear into a puddle on the ground.
Irina threw her hands up in frustration and sat herself down by the cliff she nearly fell off moments prior. She refused to believe that even he had the control to disappear his sword when everything was moving so quickly.
Childe sat down beside her on the cliff, both of them staring off into the distance “Would it make you feel better if I apologized?”
“No.”
“You’re a better fighter than you give yourself credit for. There must be something you’re very good at if they let you leave combat forces”
“My specialty has always been in information” Irina began “Tugging at threads until I can find one that causes everything to unravel.”
“Is information really necessary with the amount of mora the harbingers throw around?” Childe asked
“Everyone has a price. Not all of it can be paid in mora.” She turned to look at him “Lets take you for example. There’s no sense in trying to bribe you since you already have more money than you know what to do with.”
“Alright. Let’s hear it. Work your diplomat magic.”
“The letters from this morning. I’ll start with an assumption as the simplest answer is usually the right one. Since I doubt each letter is from a different mistress back home, I’ll assume each is from a different family member.”
The two locked eyes as she spoke, Childe listening intently
“Here’s where it gets interesting. All the envelopes are the same, so clearly it’s family still living together and each one is addressed to ‘Childe’. Makes sense considering they would know better not to use your real name on any correspondence. While each envelope was marked to you in a different handwriting, there were two that had the same. One of your family members doesn’t know about your code name. They don’t know you’re a harbinger”
Irina studied his face closely as she made the accusation. Throughout her speech, his face might as well have been carved from stone. However, when she mentioned that he had a family member who didn’t know about his job, the right side of his mouth twitched slightly. Easy to miss, but a confirmation.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t until I made the accusation. You were stone faced the entire time I was talking until I mentioned it. People are easy to read once you know what you’re looking for.”
He seemed to mull it over before standing back up “In that case let me make some observations about you. Starting with how despite claiming that you have no heart, you gave all the mora in your pocket to make sure a kid eats”
Irina let out a sigh before standing as well “That didn’t stay quiet for long. Who told you?”
“There’s a great saying in Liyue. The walls have ears.”
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Blossom
pairings: logan/patton (logicality) (because im trash) words: 2776 warnings: swearing, panic attack, implied toxic parental relationship, mention of an implied suicide attempt, fighting summary: 
blos·som /ˈbläsəm/
verb - to produce flowers or masses of flowers. - to develop in a promising way
Or: the five times Logan couldn’t see the flowers, and the one time he did.
a/n- hello! i hope you are all doing well during this strange quaran-time! i present to you, my first non-golden slumbers flower-related fic (still logicality tho,,, y'all can rip that pairing out of my dead, cold hands :pp). i had a really strange dream last night that had something to do with this concept and hey, you know what i do with dreams :p
i hope you enjoy it ^v^
read on ao3~
---------
dedicated to the one bit of starlight that always remembers to water my garden 
~*~
1. 
Logan was halfway up the porch stairs when Patton mentioned the flowers for the first time. 
“I’m telling you, Lo!” Patton followed Logan into their new house, carrying boxes behind him. “They were little yellow daffodils, just sprouting behind you as you walked! It was so pretty!” 
“Patton, it takes twelve to fifteen weeks for daffodils to bloom after chilling,” Logan said pointedly, setting his own boxes down by an old, tattered couch in the living room. “Besides, even if there were some growing, I would be more concerned that there is something prompting growth underneath our house.”
Patton giggled, putting his boxes down beside Logan’s. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist from the back, going on the tips of his toes to kiss the back of his neck. 
“Our home,” he murmured in Logan’s skin. Logan smiled. 
“Yes,” he said, looking around at their surroundings. “It is...a start.”
“It’ll be more than that soon enough!” Patton chirped, taking Logan’s hand and spinning himself underneath it with a squeal. Logan couldn’t help smile, moving his arm more purposefully to properly spin Patton around until he was standing right in front of him. 
“I’m so happy,” Patton said with a sigh and that lopsided smile; the smile that proved to Logan that he could at least feel love. 
“I am happy that you are happy, dear.” He pressed his forehead against Patton’s and kissed his nose lightly. “Now, we must continue on, or we will be late to the neighbourhood barbeque Janene invited us to.”
“Janene?”
“Our neighbour, remember?” 
Patton made a small ‘ah’ noise and nodded enthusiastically, already skipping past Logan to grab some more boxes outside. 
As he watched him go, Logan sighed; he could definitely love. He could love with all of the love the world had to offer him, for as long as they were offering. He could love the softest, most gentle creature he knew; one who moved with such grace and one whose mind and heart and soul was overwhelmingly admirable.
Yes, he could love him. 
And he loved him. 
“Logan! There’s pink roses on our roof!”
---------
2.
According to Janene, the whole neighbourhood could see the flowers. 
It was a special kind of phenomenon that no one outside the small town of Khloris ever noticed. But if you had a house on its terrain, you apparently had flowers growing underneath your feet. Upon mentioning Patton’s observations at the neighbourhood barbeque, Janene had explained the rumours that it was the land’s way of “observing” or “understanding” its habitants. Whatever that meant.
Logan found it borderline infuriating that no one had pursued further research on the matter; that people just walked around their neighbourhoods, complimenting each others’ seemingly magical gardens.
What was even more infuriating was that everyone just...accepted it. Embraced it, even. As if it was normal to hallucinate flowers growing on vines across your windows.
He was still unable to see these flowers, if they even existed. And while he wasn’t keen on keeping a sense of distrust between himself and his partner (he would have stopped playing along if Patton shared his same view) he couldn’t help but remain skeptical. 
(He would never admit it to Patton, but the reason he had purchased that rather expensive machine off of Amazon was so he could test the contents of the air in certain areas of the town. It didn’t prove anything abnormal, but it was an interesting experiment. 
He read his findings out loud to Patton one night, and Patton listened to every word.
And when Logan left for work the next morning, Patton complimented the chrysanthemums trailing behind him.)
Still, he didn’t have much choice other than to embrace the absurdity floating in their town. Besides, it was mostly harmless. And, more often than not, it served as the backdrop to some of the most joyful moments they had. 
“Why, yellow!” Patton exclaimed as he greeted Logan on the steps to their house. “Someone has an extra poppy in their step today, huh?”
“First of all, I believe you mean ‘hello’; the standard greeting which is first exchanged between individuals seeing each other,” Logan hummed. Then, he leaned over to kiss Patton’s cheek. “Second of all...hello, dearest.”
“Hiya!” Patton giggled. Logan watched as the spot he kissed flushed a soft shade of pink. “How was work?”
Logan couldn’t help but smile. “It was...very satisfactory.”
“Very satisfactory?” Patton rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet, immediately ecstatic. “Not just satisfactory?”
“Mhm.”
“Ooh that and the yellow poppies behind you! You must have good news!” Patton beamed. “Come, come sit with me! Tell me all about your very satisfactory day!”
Usually, Logan would politely decline, telling him that he had to first shower and prepare dinner as he always did after work. And it was almost second-nature to ignore the ever-growing amount of flower observations from Patton. 
But he couldn’t help but oblige upon seeing Patton rush over to their small, wooden porch swing, nearly knocking into his ball of yarn and newest knitting project. That and he did have good news. Very good news, in fact. 
“Tell me about your day first,” Logan insisted as he sat down beside him, setting his briefcase at his feet. “I would rather celebrate a mutual achievement than selfishly intrude with my singular one.”
“Intrude?” Patton nudged him lightly. “Well, you’re not being int-rude if you do! So don’t worry about that kind of intrusion-confusion you’re on about, mister!”
“...did you eat the cookies Janene sent us?”
“Several.”   
Logan shook his head. “She puts too much chocolate in those, you know. And those pastries surpass the recommended amount of sugar one should digest in a day.”
“I know! ”
Logan couldn’t help but laugh at how starry-eyed his Patton looked. Patton gently rocked the swing back and forth, then lifted his legs to sit cross-legged on the cushions once it gained enough momentum. 
“Anyway, my day was alright!” Patton chirped. “Had a breakthrough with a client today! It’s been a slow couple of weeks, but I think things are looking up!” 
“That is fantastic news, Patton.” Logan leaned his head against Patton’s shoulder, placing a hand on his thigh and smiling. “You’re doing an exceptional job.”
“Aw, Lo!” Patton giggled again. “You’re gonna make me grow peonies everywhere.”
Second-nature. Logan just chuckled.
“Now! We must celebrate you!” Patton lifted Logan’s head off his shoulder and held his hands into his own. “Tell me everything!”
A pause. Logan felt as if he too was holding his breath.
“Well, do you recall that promotion I recently inquired about at my work?”
Patton’s eyes widened. 
“Shut up.”
Logan broke into a wide grin, finally exhaling as he nodded. Patton squealed, practically lunging at Logan to give him a tight hug.
“Shut up shut up shut uppp!!!”
“Do you...actually want me to–”
“No!” Patton gasped, pulling back to hold Logan in front of him by his shoulders. His grin almost hurt to look at. “Never ever ever shut up!”
“Then why did you–”
“I’m excited, you goofball!” Patton brushed the hair out of Logan’s eyes with a small giggle. “Besides, if I’m shushing anything, it’s the guilty feeling in your head that I can hear from a mile away.
(Fuck. He could love him forever.)
“Be proud of yourself, silly.” Patton wrapped Logan into another hug. Despite being shaken around so much, Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “Gosh, you deserve this so so much– I’m so proud of you.”
Logan’s breath hitched. 
“You…” 
Patton drew himself back ever-so-slightly, leaving a mere inch between him and Logan. He smiled. 
“I’m always proud of you, Logan.” He kissed Logan’s nose, sending a rush of warmth throughout his entire being. 
He then looked down at the spaces between each wooden plank of the porch and smiled. 
“Peonies,” he whispered, resting his forehead against Logan’s. “I’m happy too, Lo. So so so happy.”
---------
3.
“Patton, take a deep breath.”
“He–” Patton gasped, wrapping his arms around himself– “how– I can’t–”
“Patton.” Logan took the phone out of Patton’s hand and held them, squeezing gently. “Patton, let’s sit down, please–”
“Don’t touch me!“ Patton sobbed, pulling his hands back and covering his mouth. Tears rolled down his cheeks and over his hands. He began backing away from Logan. “It’s– I’m a– I’m–”
“Patton–”
“Fuck,” Patton choked out, stumbling past Logan and heading in the direction of their backyard. “I can’t– I need–”
Logan just nodded, carefully catching up to him and clearing out as much clutter as he could so Patton wouldn’t get hurt. He slid open their backyard door for Patton to rush through. 
The cool, evening air hit Logan almost sharply, and he hoped that Patton could feel the same thing. He watched from a hesitant distance as Patton fell to his knees on their grass, folding into himself like a ball and clutching at each strand. 
(He doesn’t need you to make this worse.  "You don’t know how to feel, after all.”)
 “Hey,” Logan finally said. He walked over to the grass and sat a comfortable distance away from Patton. “Is this enough space?”
Patton didn’t lift his head, but he nodded. Logan sighed. 
“...What happens outside your workplace is not your responsibility.”
Patton let out a huge sob; one that felt like it echoed through the whole neighbourhood. 
Fuck. Logan cleared his throat.
“Tell me about the flowers,” he blurted out. Patton lifted his head slightly. 
“The–”
“The flowers,” Logan said again, even less sure of himself. “Tell me what they...what they look like to you right now.”
Patton let out a scratchy laugh. “You don’t believe in the stupid flowers.”
Logan’s heart broke. 
(He didn’t, but he believed in him.)
“Tell me about them anyway,” he said insistently. “I assume they are in our presence, no?”
Patton sighed and, after seemingly deliberating his offer, sat up; his hands firmly gripping the grass they were sitting on. He looked around him, all spacey in that way that used to scare Logan. (It still does, but he at least knows enough about it that it’s not as worrisome.)
Finally, he spoke up. 
“I– I see marigolds,” he whispered. “And– and yellow carnations.”
Logan closed his eyes in thought for a second and then opened them with a sigh. 
“My dear,” he whispered, scooting a bit closer to him. “It is normal to feel grief and disappointment. Those are common reactions to a tragic occurrence such as this. I am so deeply sorry that you have to experience this because you do not deserve this, my starlight.”
Patton curled even more into himself.
“But what is important is that he is still here,” Logan continued. “And I am going to be here to assist you with whatever you need in order for you to cope during this difficult time.”
He watched as Patton took a deep breath; the first one in hours. When he exhaled, he felt as if the air around him grew still and less frigid. 
“I already know with absolute certainty that I will witness you lift yourself up when we make it through this; stronger than you were ever before.” He moved closer to him again. “You did not fail, no – we are simply just trying again.”
A beat of silence. Patton sniffled. “T-There’s purple hyacinths now.”
Logan sadly smiled. A common one with Patton.
“You do not have to apologize.” He patted the space next to him. “I’m here. And so are you.”
Patton sobbed a bit more, but eventually smiled through his tears and curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan held Patton and leaned over to press a kiss in his hair. 
“I got you,” he murmured in his curls. He felt Patton settle into his lap, the tenseness in his shoulders loosening. He ran his hands through his hair, kissing it again and again every few seconds. 
“Forever?” He heard Patton mumble. He smiled. 
“And a little bit after that,” he whispered back. 
And they sat there for a while, underneath the starry skies above them, in what Logan assumed was a sea of yellow and purple flowers. Though, he was never really sure.
Later on, Patton asked him how he knew what each flower meant. And Logan, who would never admit to researching floriography (or to any accomplishment at all), just said it was a coincidence.
---------
4.
Patton rarely got mad; but when he did, Logan could only assume there were petunias everywhere.
“You–”
“Patton, please, not today–”
“NO!” His voice bounced off the walls and hit Logan in the chest. He shut up immediately. “Just...please– please tell me you’re joking.”
Logan averted his glance. “...I had to speak with them.”
“With your parents?! “ Patton screamed. “Who– who haven’t even bothered to call you in the last, what, five years?! “
“Patton, I–”
“You promised you’d never talk to them again,” Patton hissed. “I thought we agreed that– that it’d be wrong to. Because they were miserable people– people who– who made you miserable.”
He stung more than any thorn ever could. Logan tried to imagine some growing through the floors, as if trying to sympathize with what he could be experiencing. Of course he was angry. What Logan did was stupid. And he didn’t even mention the outcome…
“They’re my parents, Patton,” he said instead. He tried to plant his feet to the floor firmly, but Patton’s pacing made him shrivel up where he stood. 
“They are not your parents,” Patton snapped. His breathing was sharp and quick. “Parents–  parents don’t just tell their kid that they don’t have the capacity to feel– parents don’t kick their kid out of their fucking house and– and abandon them and leave them to be fixed by someone else.”
Logan’s breath hitched. 
“I…” He tried not to let it hurt him, but seeing Patton also wince at his own words made him feel somewhat validated in his pain. Still, he stood his ground. 
“I did not ask you to fix me,” Logan whispered, just as sharply; as if to get him back. 
Stupid.
“Logan.” Patton’s voice was even more troubling when it was quiet. “How could you...”
“It’s true.” (Why was he still talking?!) “I didn’t need you to–”
But he never finished. 
Because that’s all it took for Patton to leave.
-
5.
Patton found Logan outside in their backyard, surrounded by roses.
Roses of every colour; yellow, pink, blue, black, and white. The grass underneath his feet was bright green– in fact, everything around him was bright. 
“L-Logan, what–”
And that was when he saw the ring.
“Patton.” It came out as a loud, choked sob. 
Patton took a shaky step towards Logan, who shakily got on one knee.
“What are you…”
To his surprise, Logan laughed. 
“We– we were never really good at appropriate timing, were we?” 
Patton covered his mouth with wide eyes.
“I called my parents,” Logan began shakily, “because I wanted to tell them that I was going to marry you.”
Patton’s breath hitched. 
“You were right,” he continued, wiping his eyes. “Parents don’t do any of the things you had mentioned a-and I know I broke that promise we made out of good intent but…” He sighed. “But they are my parents. And I wanted them to be part of this moment.”
He closed his eyes, almost shamefully.
“Ultimately, it was out of spite, wasn’t it?” He laughed quietly. “In the end, I just wanted to prove to them that I could.”
“C-Could what?”
Logan stood up from his place and smiled. “That I could feel.”
A wide grin spread across Patton’s face.
“Oh, Logan…” He sobbed, rushing over to hold Logan’s hands. He giggled as Logan’s glasses fogged up from him crying, and he reached over to take them off, opting to rest them lopsided on his head. Logan laughed again through his tears. 
“Patton,” he whispered, looking up in his eyes. “I feel everything with you. I– I feel perfect, unadulterated happiness and love when I am with you. I feel joy, I feel peace, I feel...I feel things that I didn’t even know exist– ”
He held Patton’s hands and took a deep breath.
“I feel everything for– for you.” Logan rested his forehead against Patton’s and broke into laughter as their tears fell to the ground. “I want to feel everything with you– the ups, the downs, everything– for the rest of my life.”
---------
1.
And as Patton kissed him, Logan watched as a rainbow of colours blossomed around their home.
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writingithink · 3 years
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If the Doctor Dances Rated: T Word Count: 4402 Summary: After Canary Wharf, the Doctor has a lot of regrets. Notes: This is a fic for @sunniebelle ‘s prompt at @doctorroseprompts. The prompt has tons of spoilers so I'm just leaving it as a link :P. sunnibelle, I hope you like the fic! All of the gratitude to @hey-there-juliet for being the best beta ever! All mistakes are mine, as per usual.
READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link] -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631036
The moment the TARDIS had safely entered the Vortex, the Doctor wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to refuse Donna’s offer of Christmas dinner. It would have hurt, spending the holiday without Rose, trying to keep up the facade that everything was okay, that he was fine . Then again, he wasn’t sure that it would have hurt more than this.
Alone on his ship, the TARDIS’ hum was the only thing keeping the silence from becoming truly oppressive. Even so, he felt like he was being bombarded with her absence.
The Doctor glanced down at the controls. At any given moment he usually had countless ideas for where to go next, an unending list of places and times and historical figures it would be interesting to see. He still did.
It was just …
What was the point?
What was the point, if he couldn’t show it all to her ? Experience it with her? View the wonders of the Universe through Rose Tyler’s eyes, their hands clasped together as they ran through time and space?
None of it felt like it mattered anymore.
Over nine hundred years, and he had lost so much, been through so much. He didn’t know how he was possibly expected to get through this.
His anguished cry echoed through the room as he pushed himself violently away from the console and forced himself to march down the corridor before he did something that he would likely regret later - like destroy the last TARDIS in existence. Right now he wouldn’t put it past him. He couldn’t trust himself.
The Doctor paused outside of the galley. Maybe a nice cuppa would help him begin to sort through the pain that was threatening to rip him into pieces. He opened the door, took a step inside, and then froze.
Rose’s favorite mug sat on the counter next to a plate of half eaten toast. Three open jars of jam were near it - they had been taste testing.
Throat tight, he turned around, fleeing the room.
Without too much thought, mind forcing him to relive memories of Rose bringing him cups of tea while he worked on repairs, the Doctor entered the library. Before he could collapse onto the sofa, his eyes locked on her favorite throw balled up near the armrest. On the coffee table sat a complete collection of Shakespeare’s work. They had been reading Much Ado About Nothing - she enjoyed the plays more when he read them aloud, said that the strange words made more sense that way.
With each breath he took it felt as though shards of glass were piercing his lungs.
He ran out, not paying attention to where his feet were taking him, vision blurred with tears that he foolishly tried to hold in. Was there nowhere on the ship that didn’t ring out with her absence? The Doctor blindly opened a door, eyes closed as he gave in.
I love you, she’d told him.
He would never see her again.
It had been his last chance to say it. His last chance, and he’d run out of time. Now she would never know that he loved her, too.
The Doctor dropped to the floor, legs messily criss crossing as he covered his tear streaked face. He didn’t want to know where he’d ended up, certain that wherever it was would only echo sharply with it’s lack of Rose Tyler. It certainly smelled like her, and that was bad enough.
I love you, she’d told him, and why couldn’t he have just said it back?!
Then at least she would have known. Because he’d known how she felt even without the words - Rose had shown him constantly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for himself.
Sure, more recently he’d begun to try, but his attempts were laughable. Any chance to really show her, and he would deflect, make a poorly timed joke, or run away. Always running.
They should have had more time.
He’d been so afraid of the mere decades she’d had left to live, certain that they would ‘only’ have years together before Rose would be too old to want to run around the Universe with him - that even though she’d promised him her forever, she would need more than he was able to offer her.
Now the Doctor wished that he’d given in to every human-y impulse he’d had, because holding back obviously hadn’t lessened the pain of losing her. They could have had so much more.
With a sharp breath, he opened his eyes only to immediately scrunch them closed, hands curling into fists, nails painfully digging into his palms.
Her room.
He was in her room.
His insides felt hollow as he stood, fully intending to run out, but instead found himself clumsily crawling onto Rose’s bed, wrapping himself in her duvet, and burrowing his face into her pillow. If nowhere on his ship was safe, then why shouldn’t he stay here?
Gripping the blanket tighter, the Doctor couldn’t help but let out a few choked sobs as he rolled to the side and took in the mess she’d left.
He’d never get to tease her again about making so much clutter.
They should have had more time.
Not just more time, even. He should have used the time they’d already had better , instead of being scared of what it would do to him when this day came.
His eyes landed on a dress strewn haphazardly over the chair in front of her vanity. She’d worn it out the last time they’d landed on a peaceful planet for an evening. Had actually convinced him to go back to the TARDIS to change when they’d happened upon a restaurant with dancing. Rose had, of course, asked him to dance that night.
She always did, despite the fact that he refused her every time.
He’d thought it would be too hard to pretend they were nothing more than the best of friends, that he didn’t want anything more than that, if he were to hold her close like that.
So he always refused her, and she always let him. He had spent that evening leaning against the bar, pretending not to be scowling everytime she looked his way as she’d danced the night away, a line of pretty boys always seeming to be vying for her attention. He used to slip away, telling her there was maintenance to be done on the ship (usually there wasn’t).
It had been awhile since he’d been able to do that. To leave her. The Doctor had been certain that soon he would break - they would dance together, and she would just know. It hadn’t stopped him from trying to hold out for as long as he could.
He should have never tried to begin with.
They had danced together once … but only once.
It was - and would likely always be - one of his favourite memories. Everyone had lived, and he had danced. And spinning around the console room with Rose Tyler in his arms, he had finally admitted to himself that his hearts were no longer his own.
But it hadn’t changed the fact that she was human, and he was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords.
And as he sat in the console room that night after Rose and Harkness had gone to sleep, he had been terrified . Certain that if he gave in, it would break him.
So; no more dancing.
No giving in.
Yet here he was - broken.
It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. He loved her, and just because she didn’t know hadn’t stopped her from consuming him.
They should have had so much more time.
His brain was a broken record, stuck on the thought. How many changes he would make if he’d known how short their ‘forever’ would be.
The Doctor hadn’t thought he’d be able to stop crying now that he’d started, but his next sob cut off with a gasp.
He was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords. So what was stopping him from changing it?
Sure, he couldn’t actually go back and do it all over again - it didn’t work like that. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make one teeny tiny paradox, now did it?
His ship screeched in his head as he raced into the console room, lights flashing in distress. The Doctor ignored her, inputting coordinates. She was just kicking up a fuss - there was no harm in planting a teeny tiny suggestion into his past self.
“Stop being so dramatic,” he said aloud, voice rough.
He was a Time Lord - he knew what he was doing, and he had perfect recall - knew the first time Rose Tyler had asked him to dance after the Blitz, and knew just when he would be able to get himself alone.
Harkness had suggested it and he’d, of course, refused. Unfortunately, Rose had managed to flutter her eyes and he’d ended up caving. So here they were, at the Moulin Rouge of all places.
The Doctor crossed his arms, doing his level best at projecting an air of unapproachability. It wasn’t as effective as usual, with how intoxicated most of the patrons already were. Jack had already gotten himself a bottle of absinthe, and he was just thankful that Rose had refused to join him, content to drink only non-hallucinogenic alcohol. On that end, she was currently walking towards him with what appeared to be a glass of champagne.
“So, are any famous people here?” she asked as she sidled up to him and took a small sip of her drink.
He made a show of looking around, and while he did think he recognized a few patrons, the Doctor couldn’t be sure and also was aware that Rose was unlikely to know their names.
“Naah,” he said. “It’s early days, May of 1890. They only got their first review a month ago, and it won’t be until the fall that the Prince of Wales visits. By next year, Toulouse-Lautrec will release his first poster. Got us in before the crowds, me.”
“And before that show Jack wanted to see. I’m pretty sure I recall him specifically requesting 1893,” Rose smirked. “Mentioned something about Cleopatra and naked ladies. Think he knows the date?”
The Doctor shrugged, looking around again to locate their companion. It wasn’t hard to find him, and while they hadn’t even hit the half hour mark yet, it seemed as though his drinks were kicking in.
“I don’t know,” he told her, “but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care if you told him.”
She followed his gaze, giggling as they caught Harkness lean towards an attractive French bloke and nearly trip over his own feet.
“Think this is the start of another one of his stories where he ends up starkers somewhere?” Rose asked before quickly finishing her drink and sitting the glass on the tray of a passing waiter.
“Fancy making a bet?” he laughed.
“Mmm no. I think we both know how it’s going to end. Now c’mon, let’s dance,” she grinned, taking his hand.
The Doctor frowned, looking down at their clasped fingers. The music was fun and bouncy, and Rose looked beautiful, as always. But …
“No,” he forced himself to say, “think I’ll pass. You go on, though. Have fun.”
His smile felt wrong on his face, like baring teeth. He doubted he was fooling her.
“Why not?” she asked, frowning.
He wished she wouldn’t frown. That just made it harder.
“You know me, not much for dancing. Best save it for a special occasion,” the Doctor lied, because he couldn’t tell her the truth: that he was afraid to ever dance with her again. Afraid of what would happen if he continued to let his guard down.
Rose didn’t look like she believed him, but shrugged her shoulders anyway, letting him off the hook.
“Suit yourself,” she said, before walking up to the dance floor.
It was mere moments before one of the pretty boys that she seemed to draw in like a moth to a flame walked up to her, and then they were dancing. And of course she would choose him, why wouldn’t she? It’s not like she’d needed him to dance with her. She’d just been being nice. The Doctor was sure that Rose was much happier with her current dance partner than she would have been with him.
Scowling, he turned away from the dance floor and tried to relocate Jack.
It took a little longer this time, but he eventually found him sitting at a booth in between two dancers, seemingly telling them a story. The Doctor rolled his eyes, and seeing as he didn’t fancy getting dragged into a can-can once all of that started, and he hadn’t wanted to go to the cabaret to begin with, he quietly left the building. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten separated, and everyone knew to meet at the TARDIS - though he hated to think of how long he’d end up waiting on Harkness.
It was a warm night, summer quickly approaching, and he strolled leisurely in the direction of his ship. No matter what he tried to think of to distract himself, he couldn’t manage to get the grimace off his face. Really, Rose Tyler made it awfully difficult for him to ignore how he felt about her. Lines of potential suitors seemed to follow her around, none of them good enough for her in the slightest.
Not that he was. He would be the worst for her of all of them.
The Doctor turned a corner and then slowed - someone was leaning against the building right in front of the alley where he’d parked the TARDIS. Probably harmless, but best to act inconspicuous.
“Beautiful night,” the bloke commented as the Doctor walked past.
“Yup,” he agreed with a noncommittal shrug.
“You’re wasting it,” the man snarled before he could turn the corner.
“Excuse me?” The Doctor paused and turned, looking him up and down. Their eyes met and he realized exactly who he was speaking to. “What are you doing here?!”
The future him didn’t deign to respond, instead turning his head to stare in the direction the Doctor had just come from.
“C’mon, then! There must be a reason you’re risking a paradox. Get on with it!”
“I’m sorry,” the future him - another bloody pretty boy out to ruin his night, of course - sighed before refocusing. He hadn’t seen such a melancholy look on his face since the first time he’d looked in the mirror after-
After.
“It’s fine, just tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I’m sorry,” the other him repeated, scuffing his trainers against the wall before standing up straighter.
“Yeah, I got that, b- wait. Are you trying to tell me that you traveled back in your personal timeline to apologize?! For what?!!”
“I don’t know. It’s … complicated.”
His eyes were black holes, but … they really didn’t seem to carry the years any more than his own did.
“Complicated. Right. Just how far into my future are you?” the Doctor asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” his future claimed, shaking his head of ridiculous hair.
“We both know I’m going to have to forget this, so if you could stop trying to act all mysterious, that’d be great, ta,” he huffed, crossing his arms.
“You know what, fine ,” the pretty boy wearing plimsolls with a suit snarled. “Not long. Maybe about, ohhh, two, two and a half years? Turns out we’re quite jeopardy friendly ourselves. Happy? Good.”
His future self spun around and began walking away, toward the cabaret.
For a moment, the Doctor stood there, stunned. While the other him hadn’t said when it was that he regenerated, it was a very small window. This body should last him hundreds of years! Really, he’d barely used it.
Thankfully, he snapped out of it and quickly caught up with the next Doctor, who was walking stiffly, hands shoved into the pocket of the coat Janis Joplin had given them. It was the only part of his ensemble that the Doctor didn’t necessarily hate.
“Just where is it you think you’re going?” he asked, letting his tone communicate the implied accusation. 
There was something … dangerous … about this version of himself. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. At least, not yet.
“Earth, Paris, 1890 - I’m taking in the sights. Get a croissant, catch a show, maybe even check out the Eiffel Tower. It’s brand new, you know. The possibilities are endless.”
“You’re heading toward the Moulin Rouge, I’m not an idiot - though I don’t look forward to becoming one. All looks and no brains, the Universe is going to fall to pieces. What’s going on? Is Rose in danger?”
His future self stumbled, an audible gasp escaping before he corrected himself.
A sinking feeling washed over the Doctor as he asked his next question.
“Where is Rose? Your Rose.”
This time the other him stopped completely. They were both silent for far too long as the Doctor waited for his answer.
“I lost her,” he finally choked out. “She’s trapped in a parallel world. We- we can never see her again.”
The pretty boy in pinstripes offered no resistance when the Doctor immediately gave into the urge to punch the tosser he was about to regenerate into right in the face.
“You lost her ?!” he found himself shouting. “ How?!”
The future him covered his cheek, an unsettling look of determination in his eyes replacing the former hopelessness. He didn’t answer the question.
“I have so many regrets,” he said instead. “We wasted so much time.” His future self looked around him as if really seeing his surroundings for the first time, a manic gleam in his otherwise dead eyes. The Doctor took an involuntary step backwards, a natural reaction to seeing a Time Lord that seemed to have gone insane. “We’re in France?!”
“Yeah, France. That is where the most famous Paris on Earth is, and the original Moulin Rouge,” the Doctor said slowly, if not more than a bit cockily.
“But Rose hates France. Ah, wait. No. Will hate France. My bad. My fault, actually, if we’re being honest. So many regrets,” the other him groaned, ruffling his hair before whirling back around and picking up the pace as he continued toward the cabaret.
The Doctor clenched his fists. He had a general idea of what his future self had in mind, of what he was capable of if there was no one around to stop him. If there was no Rose Tyler.
“You can’t take her,” he all but shouted, grabbing the next him’s arm in an attempt to stop him only to get shaken off. His whole being tingled in a bad way as the temporal disturbance worsened.
“I’m not going to take her. She isn’t even going to know that I’m me. You. Eh, you know what I mean,” the pretty boy said with an absent wave of his hand as the Moulin Rouge came into view.
The Doctor was running out of time.
“So what exactly are you doing, then?”
“I’m going to dance with her,” he stated, matter-of-fact.
“You’re going to put the entire Universe at risk for dancing ?!” the Doctor exclaimed. Of all the stupid, ridiculous, idiotic things!
The other him simply shrugged, and the Doctor could tell that he really didn’t care. None of it mattered to this broken version of himself, shattered in a way that he didn’t believe he’d ever been, even right after he’d ended the Time War.
“Alright, tell me this,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “All pretty as you are, were you and Rose- ?”
“No,” the future him breathed. “You know us. Cowards, every time. I just wish-”
The Doctor didn’t find out how that sentence would have ended, as he’d finally found the stun gun he’d confiscated from Harkness the day before, and now the other Doctor was a crumpled heap of pinstripes on the dirty cobblestones.
“I’d say I was sorry, but I’m really not,” he grunted as he struggled to get his future self into a fireman’s carry. “More trouble than you’re worth.”
It didn’t take him terribly long to find the future version of his ship, where he left the next him leaning against the door after carefully entering his own mind and forcing him into a regenerative coma in the hopes that when he came to he’d be sane.
Finally, after all of that, the Doctor reached his TARDIS. Exhausted, and quite ready to forget that he’d ever run into a future him, he slid his key into the lock, and … nothing.
He pushed at the door. Nothing.
He pulled on the door. Nothing.
“What are you playing at?” he scowled at his ship.
In response, he received a hum that managed to be both smug and irritated. The Doctor jiggled the key, trying to get it to turn - it didn’t. He scanned her with his sonic screwdriver - all of the readings were normal.
“He’s fine ,” he assured the TARDIS, taking a guess about what had her so upset and rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe not fine . Off his rocker, but I don’t know what more you expect me to do about it. I’ve maintained the timeline, that’s all I can do.”
Another frustrated hum, and then a vision of him and Rose dancing together.
“What, you think I should have let him?!”
The hand he had still pressed against the door was zapped, and the Doctor quickly removed it as the vision played again, this time with a focus on him . This him.
“You want me to dance with her? Why ?!” he asked, boldly trying the door again. “Of all the- if I wasn’t going to before, I certainly can’t now. I’ve got future knowledge that says I never-”
His eyes slid shut and the Doctor slumped against the TARDIS as she helped him initiate a memory lock. A minute later he jolted back up, furiously pushing at the door of his time ship.
“Of all the meddling-”
Zap!
“Since when do you care if I-”
Zap!
“Bloody hell! Fine! One dance. And it’s not going to be the can-can!”
The Doctor walked back to the Moulin Rouge, muttering unflattering things about his interfering ship the whole way. When he re-entered the cabaret, Jack was nowhere to be seen - not surprising. He quickly spotted Rose, still on the dance floor, smiling at a different pretty boy.
He frowned and crossed his arms, wishing for once that the alcohol on Earth affected him the way it did humans. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it. One dance, just to make the TARDIS happy (and what was that even about, anyway?) and then he’d leave again. The Doctor dropped his arms, straightened his shoulders, and marched into the fray.
“Oi! Mind if I cut in?” he asked once he reached Rose and her overly friendly dance partner, though ‘ask’ was a strong word - he pushed the bloke to the side and took Rose’s hands before either of them had time to respond. “Didn’t think so. Go on then,” he told the man, gesturing with his head toward the bar before managing to spin himself and Rose away.
“Hey!” she complained, “What the hell was that about?! I thought you didn’t even want to dance?”
“Changed me mind,” was all the Doctor said in response, as he didn’t really have an answer for her first question.
Well, he did. It just wasn’t something he wanted to admit to.
For a moment he was absolutely positive that Rose was about to start shouting at him, but then she sighed, cast her eyes skyward, and then … smiled.
“Fine. Not that I want you makin’ a habit of this, but alright. Let’s dance.”
 The Doctor came out of his healing coma slowly, disoriented as his brain sluggishly came back online. He panicked for a moment, not knowing where he was or how he got there, calming only when he realized that he was leaning against the TARDIS.
Streets seemed Earth-like. European, late 19th century.
Paris. He was in Paris.
Why was he in Paris?
The last time he was in late 19th century, Paris was-
His eyes widened and his respiratory bypass kicked in as the Doctor as it all came back to him. He remembered, and was horrified .
How could he have done that?! Why had the TARDIS let him?!
Well, maybe because it had already happened. Circular paradox. Thank Rassilon his past self had been able to stop him.
The Doctor still couldn’t remember what exactly had been going through his mind when he’d decided to cross his own timeline. All he knew was that it had something to do with Rose.
He braced himself for the crushing pain that filled him everytime he thought of her … but it didn’t come. Before he could properly wonder why that was, new memories began to unlock in his mind, running parallel to his original memories. To his original timeline.
While he’d thought he’d been disoriented before, it was nothing compared to this. Still, he slowly rose from where he’d remained leaning against his ship, only stumbling once as a wave of vertigo hit him.
What was true? What was reality now that he’d managed to alter it, despite knowing for a fact that his past self had repressed the memory? Was the Universe even safe? Or was time about to unravel around him?
The TARDIS hummed soothingly as he slowly pushed open the door.
“Doctor?”
His respiratory bypass system kicked in, and for a moment he stared at the grating, afraid to look up.
“I’ve been lookin’ for you all over. Where’d we land?”
It was the voice of a ghost. But not. The Doctor closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.
“Nowhere,” he answered, finally raising his head. ��Got the date wrong. Have to try again.”
Rose Tyler looked stunning, dressed in a denim jacket, a floral dress, tights and some boots. She always looked stunning, no matter what she was wearing. And now he was going to make sure he told her. That he always told her.
“Alright then,” she laughed. Such a brilliant laugh. “And where are we supposed to be going?”
“How do you feel about dancing?”
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jawritter · 4 years
Text
The Arrangement
Chapter 11
Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.
Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!
Chapter Warnings: Angst, fighting, accusations of Infidelity, domestic violence (a slap), reading getting caught up in her own headspeace, insecure reader, Danneel being a raging  bitch, manipulation, distrust, feelings of abandonment, language, I think that’s it.
Word Count: 2710
A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!
Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!
Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader
Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!
***MASTERLIST***
***SERIES MASTERLIST***
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Three months.You and Jensen  had been married for three months. 
It felt like only yesterday that you closed the door on your parents house for the last time. Now here you are, stirring  tonight's supper, waiting on your husband to get home from his meeting with his agents. 
They had flown in to Austin last night to meet with him today about his 'future.' Jensen said that means that they wanted him to try out for some other acting roles, which he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to do. 
You told him that you would support him in whatever decision he made, though you knew that acting meant relocating if you wanted to be with him while he was filming, because the likelihood that he'd get a role that filmed in Austin where basically non existent. 
You'd never lived outside of the state of Texas. 
Actually, you'd never been outside of the state of Texas period, which was quite contradictory to your husband, who has literally been almost everywhere. 
Sometimes he made you feel like such a child. 
You knew that was never Jensen's intention. He never looked down on you or degraded you, at least not to your face. He even stood up to Jared three months ago. The two of them hadn't really spoken since, and you felt horrible about that. Even though Jensen had repeatedly told you that it wasn't your fault, and that Jared was being a child that needed to grow up.
You were lost in your own thoughts when the door opened and closed loudly, alerting you to Jensen's return. 
"Y/N? You home?"  You heard his voice ring through the house as he made his way toward the kitchen. 
"Yeah in here!!" you yell over your shoulder, trying to compose your own thoughts before you had to come face to face with him.
His arms encircled around you, pulling your back tight to his chest. You instinctively leaned your head back against his shoulder. 
There was something about his  presence that just seemed to calm you. The way he smelt, the way his solid body felt up against your own, the way he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight; like if he let go of you, you'd disappear, and he just couldn't have that.
"How did your meeting go?"
"Not bad, not great, but not bad. They want me to try out for more roles, which I already knew. They didn't seem too happy when I said I wanted to work on my own album. One just by myself, and then maybe... I don't know."  He sighed deeply against your neck, making you shiver. 
"I got time to figure it out. I really am not sure I want to go back fully into acting, maybe just an appearance here and there, I really want to do my music. They said I had plenty of time to think about it."
Kissing you on the forehead, he takes his phone and wallet out of his jeans, then sits them on the counter next to you. 
"I'm going to go grab a shower real quick, then after we eat we can lay on the couch and binge watch Friends, preferably naked." he said, winking at you and making you blush, before turning back to your task at hand.
Turning on the dishwasher after loading it, you heard the ding of Jensen's phone on the counter next to you. 
It was a text. 
You weren't trying to snoop , but you saw it anyway. When you heard the phone go off you imminently looked up at the phone. 
It was his publicist Brian. 
Jensen, call me. Someone took a pic of Danneel kissing you today. They turned it into TLC. Got to do damage control man.
You stood there staring at the phone on the counter, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't believe what you had just read. He had said she cheated on him, that they were done. 
Your vision starts to blur and burn as tears brimmed their way to the surface of your eyes. 
'No it's just a joke, or a mistake, he was meeting with his publicist and his agents today. He was nowhere near Danneel. It's a lie...' 
Just as you had almost convinced yourself that it was bullshit another text came across the screen. This time it was the picture. 
There they were, standing in front of a building, her mouth locked to his. You closed his phone and stumbled your way to the kitchen table that was just a few feet away.
You felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. Every fiber of your being felt like it was crumbling. 
You hadn't realized until that moment how much you had really fallen for the man. Right now though, all you could really register was the inexplicable hurt, and feeling of being betrayed. 
You wanted to leave, but had nowhere to go. You couldn't get out of a marriage like the one you and Jensen found yourself in easily. You were literally stuck unless Jensen released you. Even then you were back to where would you go?
Your thoughts weren't coherent anymore, just pain, and confusion.  She was stunning compared to you, worldly, she could probably do a lot more for him than you could. 
With that thought,  the shame really hit you. You obviously weren't satisfactory to him, otherwise he wouldn't be going to his ex wife to get what he needed.
Tears were flowing down your face in earnest now, hurt, embarrassment, and your own insecurities eating away at you down to your very core.
How were you going to face him when he got out of the shower? What were you going to tell him? You didn't know how to handle this. 
Hearing the bathroom door close you knew you needed to get yourself under control, but you couldn't, the hurt was just too much.
You tried desperately to dry your face so that he wouldn't notice you had been crying. You didn't know how he would react. You weren't intentionally standing there looking at his phone. You were just there when it went off, and crossed the screen. It wasn't like you were looking on purpose, and if you had your way, you'd never have seen it, and continued to live in ignorance. It would have hurt a lot less. 
You heard him come into the living room, looking around for you. 
"Baby? Where are you?"
You could hear him getting closer to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath you didn't know what to do. You wanted to yell, you wanted to slap him, which surprised you, you wanted to scream, you wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The overwhelming emotions are too much for you to compute all at once.
You heard him come up to the table and pull a chair back. You must have looked as horrible as you felt on the inside because he immediately reached for your hand, which you jerked away from harshly. He sat there for a moment looking you over, not sure what to say or do, completely unaware of what caused this outburst from you.
"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me sweetheart?" 
He pushed the chair back, and moved to get on his knees in front of you, reaching for you. Your body reacts before you could even process what you were doing, shoving your chair back away from him harshly. You couldn't look him directly in the eye, but you didn't miss the flinch in body language when you pulled away from him so harshly. You’d never done that before. 
"Come on baby, please talk to me. We were fine when I went to take a shower, what happened? Tell me so I can fix it, I don't like us like this." 
Standing before he could finish his pleas, you cross the room to the counter and take his phone in your hand,walking halfway to him and throwing it at him before exiting the room to lock yourself in the bedroom that you shared with Jensen. 
You didn't know where this kind of aggression came from, it wasn't in your nature. You slid down the door after locking, sitting with your back to the door as you fell apart, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 
You thought for a moment that your heart was going to stop beating. You had never felt so completely broken.  
You could hear him calling for you. The sound of him running closer to the door and jiggling the handle. You couldn't make yourself move. You couldn't face him, or the fact that you were not good enough for him, or the fact that he was probably very angry at you for throwing his phone at him, or looking at his text message, or a multitude of reasons your mind was conjuring  up.
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Jensen's POV:
Jensen's heart was pounding in his ears. He wanted to literally murder Danneel, and if it wouldn't be the fact that orange wasn't actually the new black he probably would have tried, and made it look like an accident. 
She had been texting him for a week now. Saying how much she missed him, and how much of a mistake she had made, how she wanted another chance, how she wanted him back and for them to be a family again.
He had nothing left for her, he literally felt nothing. He knew she was full of shit, that she just didn't want to be brought to court over the children, because she knew if she lost, she would lose a pretty good bit of his income with it. 
So he just ignored her, not answering her text messages and just deleting them. Seeing as she couldn't get through to him on the phone, she jumped up and followed him to his meeting with his agents this morning, and when he walked out of the office she had ambushed him, grabbing him and kissing him hard before he had time to react. 
She must have had a photographer hiding in the street. He was pretty sure he'd figured out that she was jealous and trying to ruin his marriage toY/N. If it would have been a regular photographer, then the photo of him yelling at her and pushing her away would have followed, but nope. Just the one of her kissing him. 
Anger boiled under his skin. Her narcissism knew no limits, and once he fixed this shit with his wife, the woman he actually cared about, he was filing for a restraining order tomorrow. 
Jiggling the door knob again he spoke through the door. Everything in him wanting to hold her, to tell her it wasn't him, that he'd never do anything like that to her. He'd never hurt her. He wanted to shield her from shit like this, and had failed measurably. Now she thinks that he's cheating on her. 
"Come on Y/N, open the door baby. This isn't what it looks like. Come on, let me in."
Nothing. 
"Baby,you know I can pick a lock right? I want you to let me in though, I don't want to force my way in... Come on sweetheart, you got to believe me. She followed me to my meeting and kissed me. I didn't even know she was there until she basically jumped on me. Please sweetheart, I would have never, NEVER have done that to you."
Nothing. Jensen could feel the anxiety tightening in his chest like a vise. 
He couldn't lose her, not over this. Leaving the door only long enough to get something to pick the lock on the bedroom door. He was starting to feel short of breath. Like he was about to have a full on anxiety attack. 
He'd been afraid to admit he had real feelings this early in their marriage for Y/N, more than just basic lust. Funny how you don't really know what you have until you stare at the possibility of losing it.
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Your POV:
You could hear Jensen messing with the lock on the door. You had thought he had just given up and walked away from the door. You had moved from your spot on the floor, and literally crawled your way to the bed. You didn't have the strength to get up to your feet to walk. It was like something in you had died.
You knew you really cared about Jensen, you knew you were quickly ‘falling’ for him, and wanted to make a good wife for him, but you didn't realize you had feelings this deeply for him. 
You wanted more than anything to believe what he was saying, you wanted to believe it was all Danneel. You wanted to believe that she had jumped him outside the office building, and that he had nothing to do with it. She kissed him.
There was a part of you though that was screaming men lie when they get caught. He broke your trust. You're not good enough for him. You will never be good enough for him. You're a sheltered, overgrown child, that he hasn't even tried to take out in public with him since that fiasco at Jared's house. 
You're nothing but something he's ashamed of. 
A burden.
With every horrible thought that ripped through your head, it felt like your chest would cave in. Believing your own thoughts, the worst one yet ripped through your subconscious before you could stop it. 
'You have no family left, and now you're about to not have a husband. You're too sorry to even hold on to an arranged marriage. Your father would be so disappointed. You are a disgrace, and a shame to your family's memories.'
The door burst open before you had time to even react to your own thoughts. Jensen's heavy footsteps moved quickly around the bed. He  kneeled down in front of you. 
"Baby please, I didn't kiss her. They didn't show the whole story. That's the media, they do shit like that to make drama for themselves. She jumped me outside the building when I left my agents meeting."
You couldn't look at him. Just continued to give a dead, heartbroken look at the wall. 
"Y/N, please look at me. I'm not lying to you.. She's been texting me for days saying she wants me back. I've been ignoring her. That's why she did that."
Nothing. You couldn't make yourself respond to him. You felt like you had the grand canyon in your chest where your heart used to be. Your body refuses to function.  Your mind told you to reach out to him. Even though something deep down in you told you that he was telling you the truth,  an even louder voice in you told you that he's lying, and you will just get hurt if you believe him. That he's going to leave you. One way or another.
"Sweetheart please.. I love you, I'd never do anything like this, I don't want her.."
Was he really going to sit there and tell you he loved you? After what he'd done?
Something snapped in you then. Anger you hadn't expected flooded through you from the top of your head to your feet. Before you could even register what you were doing you reached out and slapped him hard in the face, knocking him from a kneeling possession to a sitting one.
A look of shock, bewilderment, and another look you couldn't recognize crossed his face as he sat there staring at you with his mouth hanging slightly open, staring at you.
"Don't you dare.. You don't have the right to come in here, and tell me you love me after what you've done..." 
You sat there staring at each other for a moment, neither of you saying a word. 
Jensen after a moment composed himself. Got to his feet, and walked out the bedroom door. Slamming it behind him. 
You laid back down on the bed and cried yourself to sleep. 
Why was God doing this to you? Why did he keep taking everything from you?
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collidingxworlds · 3 years
Text
Dreams and Doors
Semi-plotted starter for @wingsxcrossroads
He truly should stop doing that, before it became a recurring thing. Or, even worse, a habit. One time had been not just enough, but also too much already and one would have expected him to learn from it, since he had just barely made it worked.
It turned out that he hadn’t, not really. He had been stupid enough not to listen to Hela and wait until he was fully recovered before going back to Earth. Look at where that had landed him. Betrayed by Loki, who had showed no hesitation to exploit his weakened state instead of offering him asylum, and straight into Asmodeus’ clutches. Both had been dealt with as they deserved, but the concept still stood.
And now he was stranded in a parallel universe, without a vessel, his Grace so reduced that he had to make an effort just to keep existing. He had no idea of what gruesome end his counterpart had met in that reality, but he had the feeling that he hadn’t been a pagan god, because that alternative version of Michael hadn’t even bothered to check if there was anything left of him.
As for Lucifer...The bastard had probably assumed that he couldn’t have managed to pull a similar trick a second time. And he couldn’t exactly blame him, because he was having a hard time to believe it too.
Gabriel shifted, his presence nothing than a mere shimmer in the many layers of the fabric that composed reality. He wasn’t even sure of how much time had passed since his second “death”. Days, perhaps weeks? It was hard to tell. Time moved differently when you were so close to dissipate into non-existence.
That wasn’t all, though. There was something else he had noticed, even if he hadn’t been able to put it into focus. The barrier between realities felt...thinner in some moments. Perhaps it was because the rip Jack had made the first time had never fully healed, or maybe it depended on the fact that the threshold had been crossed so many times in such a small period of time. He wasn’t sure and he didn’t particularly care. What he knew was that, at times, it was as if he found himself floating...somewhere else.
Like it was happening in that exact moment. He was no longer surrounded by the ruins of that fallen, rotting world, but by something more alive and yet, at the same time, that felt less real.
Dreamscape...?
The fleeting thought crossed his mind, quick and ethereal as he himself was. It could be, but whose? And could he even communicate with them, when he probably looked like just a small ball of golden light? Well, everything was possible in dreams.
Someone here? I took the wrong turn...at some point. Probably a few millennia ago.
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