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takamikeiigos · 3 years

Note

Okay I know made an ask already like 2 days ago🙄 but what if hawks s/o had to fake their death on a mission for like a month or 2😮‍💨 and when they come back the first thing they do is look for hawks even though they’re tired, beaten and look like complete shit😩😩 I’m just such a sucker for these kind of tropes !!!

Also how’s ur day been :))

ayo i got you fam!!!

this was legit all i could think of for like 3 days so i hope it's okay!!

Title: "You Came Back to Me"

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (for now)

Relationships: Hawks x Reader

Tags: temporary character death, violence, drinking as a coping mechanism (minor on hawk's part), emesis

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3

You look up at the villain who currently has you pinned to the floor, your ragged breaths leaving your mouth with every rise and fall of your chest.

His vibrant green eyes are piercing as they stare down at you, his expression wicked and merciless as he presses his foot harder against your throat as a warning.

"Here are your options, darlin'," he pulls his foot away, instead opting to sit back on his haunches. He brushes your hair from your face and rests his hand on your cheek. It makes you flinch and your breath hitch.

"You either find a way to dissappear, or I'll track down that precious little birdy of yours and take his wings for myself."

○ ○ ○

- three weeks prior -

"Let me come with you. Please."

"Kei.." you say softly as you back the rest of your necessities in your bag, finally turning to look at him.

He's on edge, you can tell by his posture. His wings are drawn tight to his back, but his feathers are puffed out. It reminds you of how hair stands on end and goosebumps make them selves known under fear and stress.

"You know I can't.."

"This is too much for one person to handle." His arms are folded across his chest now as he leans against the doorframe of your shared bedroom.

"You don't think I can handle myself?" The words leave your mouth sounding offended, and he instantly deflates.

"That's not what I meant. If you didn't know what you were doing, you wouldn't be working for one of the top agencies in Japan." Keigo steps forward, now in your space, and you can see a faint trace of fear flicker across his face. "I just.. this man is very dangerous, y/n. And if anything happens.."

"Hey. It'll be okay. It'll only be a month and I'll be home before you know it. I won't let anything happen, I promise." Your hand falls against his cheek and he nuzzles into it, both of his hands coming to rest against your own.

"You promise?" he asks quietly, needing one more confirmation that you'll be home and safe in a couple weeks.

"I promise."

○ ○ ○

"Have you made your mind up, sweetheart?" Kimura, the man who has had the utmost pleasure in beating you within an inch of your life, asks. He slams you against the brick wall of the alleyway one more time for good measure, his hand wrapped firmly around your throat.

"Please.." you gasp out, your hands coming to wrap around his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure against your larynx. "P-please promise me you won't hurt him, that you w-wont lay a hand on him.."

He chuckles darkly, tossing you aside onto the cold, dirty floor of the alleyway.

Your vision is blurring, slowly darkening at the edges, but you manage to see him move a few feet away, bending down to pick something up off the ground. You blink sluggishly and suddenly he's in your space once more, holding the object, which you soon realize is your phone, in your face.

"Go ahead, songbird. Give him one last goodbye."

You cringe at the abuse of the nickname that you hold so dear, but weakly reach out and take your phone from his hand, Hawks' number already dialed.

All you had to do was hit send and that would be it.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the brick wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You can feel tears burning as they make themselves known, clinging to your eyelashes and not yet falling to your cheeks. You blame it on the amount of pain you're in, but you know the true reason is because you're absolutely terrified.

You press send.

As it rings you notice Kimura bringing out his own phone, holding it up and aiming it in your direction.

What a sick bastard.

"Baby bird!" Keigo's voice comes cheerfully from the other line. Though it warms and calms your senses, it still makes you sad knowing that he's completely oblivious to what's about to come.

"H-Hey, Kei.." you try your best to keep your voice steady, but the damage from excessive force to your throat is unforgiving and the words leave your mouth sounding raspy and distant.

"Y/n, where are you?" Keigo's voice drops an octave and you can tell his worry has set in, which was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

"I'm okay, just uh," you pause mid-sentence, your throat tightening around the words as tears threaten to spill again, "just got knocked around a lil bit."

Your laugh comes out bitter. You hate the sound of it.

"Y/n. Tell. Me. Where. You. A-"

"Kei, listen. I need you to know how much I.." your voice betrays you and cracks, and you suddenly find that you can't fight the overwhelming fear and sadness coming over you. You weakly bring a hand up to wipe at your battered cheeks, tears continuing to fall and mix with the grime and blood that covers your skin.

You try again to steel yourself, another deep breath falling from your lips shakily, making your lungs rattle. It's becoming harder each second to keep your eyes open and your mind focused, but if you make it through this one phone call, you know you'll be able to rest easy.

"I need you t'know how much I love you. 'N that everything's g'nna be fine. That you'll be okay. And to not c-"

Suddenly a gunshot rings out and your whole world stands still for a split second, before turning completely sideways.

You register warmth blossoming over your abdomen, spreading and soaking your hero uniform. You can hear Keigo frantically yelling from where your phone slipped from your hand and landed on the concrete next to your head. And the last thing you see is Kimura holstering his gun with one hand, tapping away on his phone with the other.

"What a shitty ending for a hero, don't you think?" Kimura grins down at you.

Yeah. What a shitty ending for a hero.

○ ○ ○

The quiet trickle of water finds its way to your ears, and the feeling of something cold and damp against your forehead is a soothing contrast to how hot your body feels.

Opening your eyes feels as though it takes half of whatever strength you have left, and your vision swims. Suddenly hit with a wave a nausea, you lean over and vomit over the edge of the bed you're laying on. Luckily there's a bucket on the floor, and you assume it was placed there for a reason.

That someone placed it there.

In a panic you sit up, your wounds pulling tight and your body protesting. Your vision swims again and it takes you a few moments to ground yourself.

"Ma'am, please don't move too fast. You'll re-open your wounds and you're already in bad shape," a quiet voice projects throughout the room. You look up and notice an older man, probably in his sixties, sitting in a chair next to the bed you're currently occupying.

"Who are you? Where's Kimura?" You grit out, grabbing the edge of the blankets and tossing them off of you. The man in front of you is ready for your attempt at escape and he places steady hands on your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed.

"Please! My name is Daichi Tanaka, I am a doctor! I found you in an alleyway near Higashiosaka. I would have taken you to a hospital but you begged me not to," the man pleads, his hands persistent on your shoulders.

You glare at him momentarily, before relaxing back onto the bed, still weary of his intentions.

"Kimura? Is that the name of the person who did this to you?" The man - Tanaka - asks hesitantly.

You ignore his question in favor for asking your own, "How long have I been out?"

Tanaka stares at at you, seeming to contemplate answering, but you figure he finally realizes you aren't taking any shit because his answer comes out with a sigh.

"A little over a week. You've been in and out, your fever finally broke this morning."

Over a week. You've been out for over a week and you don't know where you are, where Kimura went, and where Keigo-

Keigo.

It all comes crashing back to you and you lie back, your hands resting over your eyes.

Tanaka seems to have been reading your mind, because he pulls your phone from the nightstand next to you and passes it over.

"I wiped as much blood from it as I could. You have many new notifications and quite a few missed calls. I wasn't able to unlock it to call anyone, but it seems there are many people worried about you." Tanaka stands then, making his way toward the bedroom door.

"I will give you some privacy for now, but expect me to be back in twenty minutes to check up on you."

With that, Tanaka leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You stare down at your phone, the screen cracked and a few specs of blood and dirt tucked into its crevices. You type your pin in and pull your notifications up, Keigo's name amongst others filling the screen.

You don't realize you're crying until a small hiccup forces its way from your mouth, your cheeks wet with tears.

You notice a voice-mail from him, and though you know it's only going to make you more upset, you force yourself to open it to make sure he's okay.

His voice floods the room and it immediately breaks your heart at how wrecked he sounds. You can tell he's been crying by how gravelly his voice sounds as the message plays out.

"You know," Keigo laughs bitterly over the phone, "I punched Ryosetsu in the face for letting you go on this mission alone. Gave 'im a real nice shiner on your behalf."

The message goes quiet and you can hear what sounds like a glass bottle being opened in the background, Keigo's quiet sniffles also making themselves known.

"Fuck, y/n. They didnt even.. they didnt even find your body. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, huh?

"They wouldn't even let me anywhere near the scene, I had to sit back at the office while they kept me informed. He said there was uh.." you assume Keigo pauses to take a swig of whatever he's drinking based off the tink of the glass bottle, "heh, he said there's a low chance you're even alive because there was so much blood. Fuck."

You grimace at how blunt he is with the statement and how distant his voice sounds. You can only hope that he hasn't been drinking as often as your thoughts are telling you.

"Please come back to me," he whimpers over the message, and a new wave of tears fall down your cheeks. "Please.. I can't do this without you."

○ ○ ○

A few days pass.

Tanaka refuses to take any of your shit.

He most definitely refuses to let you leave until you had one more solid meal in you, and one more day of rest.

You're still a little weak, bruises and abrasions littering your skin ( not to mention the nasty bullet wound Tanaka managed to sew up for you ) but you finally have enough strength to stand and walk on your own.

He pleads with you to stay one more day, just to ensure you're strong enough to be by yourself, but you shake your head and bow before him.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanaka, but I have to keep moving. It might be unsafe for you if I stay."

So instead he writes down his phone number on a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you, patting your hand briefly.

"You're a strong one, just be sure to take care of yourself." He smiles kindly at you, and you nod before taking your leave.

○ ○ ○

Days go by as you hop around from town to town, only stopping for food and rest.

It's been a little over two weeks since you made the decision to distance yourself to ensure the safety of your friends and Keigo, and nearly two months since you were assigned the mission. While you knew faking your death was the only way to keep people from asking too many questions about why you suddenly disappeared, you weren't expecting to actually get shot and almost die.

You keep up with the recent events as best as you can, continuously watching news coverage and especially keeping tabs on Keigo's agency.

Your breath catches in your throat one day while you're moving through a rural seaside town, large red wings and a familiar hero uniform immediately catching your attention.

A flood of emotions run through you and it takes everything in you to not run up to him and hold him. But the fear of Kimura's prying eyes hold you back, and you steadily remind yourself that you're doing this to protect him.

You keep your distance and watch his every move. He's staring down at his phone for a while and after a few moments it rings. He brings it to his ear and though you can't hear what he's saying, it must be something important.

Because soon enough his wings are spread out and he's taking flight into the afternoon sky.

○ ○ ○

'Pro-Hero Hawks makes appearance in. Tanabe - finds lead on hero killer'

'Hanamatsu hero case still under investigation'

'Top Hero Agency in Japan pursuing hero killer - Kimura'

The news headlines on your phone cause your blood to run cold. How foolish of you to think Keigo would let this go so easily.

To think he wouldn't trace every piece of evidence and go to the ends of the earth to take down someone who hurt you.

○ ○ ○

You keep tabs on him as best you can. It begins to feel like you're stalking him, in a weird way, but you'll be damned if you did all of this just to put his safety on the line.

Keigo stays in Tanabe for the time being, the week passing by in a blur as you track his movements.

You figure Kimura went into hiding since his criminal activity fell flat after your encounter with him, but Keigo is as persistent as he's ever been, nitpicking every lead that comes his way.

A few days later word gets out that Kimura has been spotted in the village of Hidakagawa, just thirty minutes northwest of Tanabe.

You only hope you can get there before Keigo does.

○ ○ ○

Hidakagawa is exactly what you pictured, a perfect little town for a low-life criminal to live under the radar.

Its quiet and rural, its occupants living their lives happily tucked away from the bustling life of the city.

A few squad cars rush past you as you look at the map you have pulled up on your phone. It seems a little out of character for such a small town, so you push yourself forward and follow them.

○ ○ ○

When you finally catch up to the squad cars, the scene before you makes your hair stand on end.

Keigo has Kimura pinned to the ground, battered and bruised, his fist closed around a one of his feathers that he's currently wielding as a blade. A few dozen officers surround the scene, guns drawn and on edge.

Kimura smirks up at him and whatever he says is out of earshot, but its enough to piss Keigo off and send him into a frenzy.

"Kei, stop!" You find yourself yelling shakily. You finally manage to push through the barricade of officers and it's then that Keigo makes eye contact with you, his closed fist halted in the air.

Kimura takes the split second of distraction to knock the blade from Keigo's hand, flipping their position so the winged hero is pinned to the floor of the temple. He pulls out his gun and cocks it, pressing it to Keigo's forehead.

All the while Keigo keeps his eyes on you.

"I thought I told you to stay away, little one," Kimura grits out, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth, "Now it looks like your little hawk is about to lose his wings, all because someone can't listen."

You move on impulse when Kimura turns his attention back to Keigo, and you grab the handgun from the officer closest to you.

You waste no time in firing a bullet, hitting Kimura right in the temple. But as it strikes he squeezes the trigger of his own gun on impulse, which is still trained on Keigo, a second round going off.

- to be continued -

tbh i was super nervous to post this bc im so new to the fandom but here we go!!

also i just made up random characters bc im not quite caught up with the manga, and also picked random spots in japan that i know absolutely nothing about

rip to my writing skills lmfao

♡ ky

#im terrified to post this lmaooo #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #mha hawks #mha keigo takami #bnha takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #hawks #ky writes #ky answers #fanfiction #you came back to me

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maybe-theres-hope · 3 years

Text

Tarlos Fic - Dinner Date

3.2k | T | Warnings: Blood, Injuries (mostly minor) | Contains: Judd/Carlos friendship, Tarlos being perfect, blue Camaro (rip)

Read on AO3

“So, what are your plans for the night?” Nancy asked as they exited the ambulance, their shift nearly over as long as the bell didn’t go off in the next ten minutes.

TK smiled to himself for a moment before he spoke. “Well, Carlos is taking me to Jeffrey’s, so…”

“Holy mother,” Nancy breathed, looking at him with obvious envy. “Do you guys have a ten year anniversary or something coming up? Did he get some kind of commendation at work? Because I know your last one was like a month ago, so.”

“No, no anniversary, that’s in a couple of months. And its three years, Nance.” He chose to ignore her muttering about their mushiness ‘aging me ten years’. “And nothing from work that I know of. Maybe he just loves me?” TK couldn’t stop grinning while they stocked the bus and readied for the handover.

“He loves you crap ton! Their wagyu strip steak is a hundred and twenty-five dollars!” Nancy had her phone out, obviously googling the menu.

“Well at least we’ll save money on wine,” TK said with a chuckle.

“I’ve heard of the place by reputation but like, dude, who ever gets the chance to actually go there?”

“TK it seems,” Tommy cut in. “Why don’t you go on? We got it here and you’re gonna need at least an hour to pick out an outfit.”

“And gel your hair. You and your dad are way more alike than you want to admit,” Nancy added with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You sure, Cap? I can stay and help?”

“I’m sure, kiddo. Go get dolled up for your man. Eat a few bites for us, yeah?” Tommy yelled at his retreating figure. She and Nancy looked at each other with grins as they caught the little skip in his step.

“So, what do you think the occasion is?”

Tommy looked back at Nancy with a gleam in her eye. “I can wager a guess, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Nancy just gave her a look and went back to restocking.

Around 8 p.m., Owen was sitting in his office toying with his phone in his hand, smiling at his last text exchange.

we’re just leaving the house now, wish me luck!

you’re not gonna need it, kid :)

“Not if I know my son anyway,” Owen said aloud to the empty room. He wondered if it’d happened yet. No incoherent string of emoji’s from TK yet, so he doubted it.

He was shoving the phone back into his pocket with the bell went off.

“Alright guys,” Owen said into the mic from the Captain’s chair. “Dispatch says three vehicles involved, two still on the road and one went over the side into the ravine. Police are on their way but we’ll probably beat ‘em there. Strickland, Marwani, soon as we get there I want you to harness up and get down in that ravine. Judd, you too. You’ll be in command down there and I’ll stay up top with the other two vehicles. Everybody else you’re with me, got it?”

A chorus of “Copy that, Cap,” and suddenly they were on the scene.

“Marjan, Paul, we’re goin’ down!” Judd called to them as the rest of the crew went over to the silver Prius and black Mazda that were crumpled in the middle of the two-lane highway. Judd wasn’t a prayin’ man, but he sent up a little something to the man upstairs that this went their way. It looked bad.

Paul arrived at his side first, strapped into his gear. “Marjan’s grabbing the bag from the truck, she’s coming.”

“Alright. We’ll go down this way,” Judd said, pointing to a safe-ish stretch of hillside. “Can’t see the other car from here but dispatch said bystanders saw it go over. Probably just hidden in the trees.”

“Okay guys, let’s do this!” Marjan called, harnessed and carrying the medical bag and a backboard. “TK’s gonna be sad he missed this. Medical doesn’t get to harness up a lot and I know he loved it. He coulda helped.”

“Nah, he’s got better things tonight. Carlos was takin’ him to Jeffrey’s,” Paul said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ohh, fancy,” Marjan said with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”

They’d reached the bottom and were starting to look through the brush and low-hanging trees for a vehicle.

“Don’t know,” Paul answered. “But I think Cap’s in on it somehow.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Judd cut in as he whacked a few branches out of his way. “Carlos came by the station a few weeks ago, and they sat up in Cap’s office for an hour before he left grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Hey guys, look!” Marjan called from a few yards to the left. The other two went to her position and saw what she’d found. A track in the underbrush where it had been torn at and flattened. “Think this is the place.”

“Let’s go,” said Judd. They followed the path through the brush for a couple of yards before they caught sight of it: taillights. “Alright, Marjan you go on the passenger side, I got the driver. Paul you see if you can clear some of that brush off the back in case the doors are jammed and we gotta get ‘em out that’a way.”

Visibility was still low despite the lights of the car and their flashlights, but as they approached they saw the car wrapped around the trunk of a tree on the passenger side. “I don’t know if I can get in there, Judd, but I’ll try,” Marjan said as she broke out into a jog.

“Wait!” Paul cried. Judd looked over at him, and he would have said such a thing couldn’t happen to a calm and collected person like Paul, but his face had gone ashen. “That’s Carlos’s car,” he said on a breath.

“What?” In the dark, now that he was really looking, he could see they were coming up on—what used to be—a blue Camaro.

“I’m sure of it. TK bullied him into putting that sticker on the back because he said it was too pristine and it needed personality.” He shone his flashlight at the rear bumper and sure enough, there was a SXSW sticker half ripped off from the path the car had taken to get there.

“Come on,” Judd said, heart rate kicking up.

“Should we call Cap?” Paul asked.

“No, we stay down here and do our jobs, and he stays up there and does his. We’ll get ‘em.” His voice sounded numb even to his own ears, but he was determined.

“They were on their way to dinner,” Paul said lowly.

“Yeah, probably takin’ the backroads to avoid traffic,” Judd said, shaking his head. Fate was hell sometimes.

When they reached the car, Marjan was yelling. “TK! TK can you hear me?” She turned to Judd. “I can’t get in there. The tree trunk is halfway into the car, probably pinning him to the console. He’s unresponsive.” Her face was also pale, but determined.

Judd went to the driver’s side and saw Carlos, head hanging to the side facing the broken window. He tried the door as he called out. “Carlos? Hey Carlos, come on buddy. Can you hear me?” The door wouldn’t budge; Judd figured the car had rolled a couple of times coming down the hill, crumpling it like a tin can. Then he heard a soft groan.

He looked up, and one of Carlos’s eyes was trying to open. The other was swollen shut, where he’d probably hit his head on the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. Half his face had burn marks from it.

“Hey, hey Carlos, look at me, that’s it.” That one eye tracked around before it landed on Judd, drawn to the light of the flashlight on his helmet. “Hey man. We’re gonna get you out okay? Now, can you move your fingers and toes for me?” Judd stuck his head into the window to see down in the floor boards. “Alright, likely no spinal damage. How’s your head?”

“Hurts. Shoulder, too.” His voice was barely audible.

“Okay, it looks like you dislocated it,” Judd said as he prodded his left shoulder. “I don’t see anything broken but we’ll have to get you out to determine that.”

“TK—“ a wheeze, “TK…first. Been out…a while.”

Judd peered over to the passenger side, where TK was shoved almost fully into the center console, head laid back on the headrest and his face covered in blood. Marjan and Paul were still hard at work outside trying to clear a path into the car.

“We can’t get to his side just yet, but we can get you out first and then we’ll be able to pull him out this way, okay? We wanna focus on you right now.”

“Alive.”

“Yeah, you’re alive, Carlos. You’re not gonna leave us yet,” he said as he assessed the door panels where they could cut through with the saws they brought.

“No. TK. Weak, but…alive,” Carlos breathed out, coughing through the end.

“We’ll make sure he’s alive, okay?” Judd said, trying not to lose his professionalism at this whole messed up situation.

“He is.” Judd stopped looking around and looked back at Carlos. The man raised his right hand just as much as he was able, showing where he had two fingers on TK’s radial pulse.

“Good, that’s good Carlos,” Judd assured him. That meant Carlos had had some minutes of consciousness after the accident before they showed up. “Was he talking at all? After you hit the tree?”

“Little. Minutes, maybe.”

“That’s good, that’ll help. Alright Carlos, we’re gonna get this door off so I’m gonna cover you with this while we do okay?” Judd waited for a small nod before he covered Carlos’s face and torso with his own turnout coat.

After an agonizing four minutes, the door popped off in a shower of metal and broken glass. Judd removed the coat and went back in to assess. “Carlos? How you doin’?”

“Tired. But won’t…sleep. Promise. That’s bad.”

“You learn a few things from your Paramedic boyfriend?” Judd said with a watery smile.

“Mmm.”

“Judd, I got the back cleared. Maybe we can get in there to at least check TK’s vitals,” Paul informed them.

“Get on it, I’ma try to get Carlos here out onto this backboard. Marjan, radio for another backboard and have two RA’s ready to go topside!”

“Copy that!” Judd had to admire those two. They never let their professionalism slip too far, though he could see they were worried sick. He could relate. He wouldn’t relax until both of the boys were back up the hill and on the way to the hospital.

From the looks of things, maybe not even then. But he had hope.

“Alright, Carlos, I’m gonna grab your legs and behind your shoulders here and pull you out, okay? It’s gonna hurt like hell, but it’ll be quick.”

“Wait.”

Judd stopped cold.

“Left…pocket. Please.”

“You want me to get at your left pocket?” A nod. “Alright, hang on.”

Judd carefully shifted Carlos’s leg so he could reach into his slacks, which had probably been part of a very nice suit at the beginning of the night. His fingers searched until they hit a small bump, an object no bigger than a baseball, soft velvet over a hard shell. He sucked his lips between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pulled it free in his hand.

“Keep it…safe…for me?”

Judd looked down at the little black box for a moment, then clutched it tight in his hand before transferring it one of the innermost pockets of his turnout.

“Of course, man. I will guard this with my life.” He looked up and saw Marjan coming back with another backboard. “Alright, buddy. It’s go time.”

Carlos gave a weak nod and winced when Judd started to pull.

“Welcome back, man. You had us worried there for a bit.”

Carlos opened his good eye to see Judd sitting at his bedside, smiling softly. It took a moment to remember where he was. Hospital. Accident. Tree.

“TK—“

“Is fine. Banged up and will need crutches for a few weeks, not to mention a killer headache with no meds, but he’s fine. All things considered.”

“Where is he?”

“On his way, so you just stay put, okay? You’re pretty banged up, too, ya’know.”

Carlos shifted a bit and winced. His left arm was in a sling, his head bandaged over his left eye, and his right side hurt like hell.

“Broken rib when the tree went into TK’s door, door went into TK, TK went into the console, then the console went into you. He’s got a femoral fracture in his right leg but like I said, all things considered, you’re both pretty well off for how far you fell and probably rolled.”

“Yeah, he said his leg had gone numb but he could still move his toes. He made sense for about five minutes, then started talking all jumbled, then went quiet. I uh…freaked out a bit after that. I thought he had…” Carlos trailed off, looking haunted.

“Yeah, and you kept your fingers on his pulse that whole time. What you were able to tell us at the scene helped us treat him. You did good, Carlos.”

“Not good enough to swerve in time,” he said.

“Not your fault. And don’t you dare go thinkin’ it is. I don’t wanna hear it, Carlos,” Judd said in what TK called his Dad Voice. Stern and no room for argument. Carlos just nodded.

“And uh, hey. I been waitin’ to give this back to you.” Judd stood and walked over to the bed, holding out a tiny black box. Carlos took it and cradled it against his chest. “It better be a nice one, cuz I about had a heart attack while I was showerin’ thinkin’ someone was gonna come get my pile a’clothes and take ‘em to the laundry while I was gone.”

“You didn’t open it?”

“Nah, I figure the big reveal? TK deserves that all to himself.”

“Owen’s seen it,” Carlos countered, smirking.

“Uh huh. He approve?”

Carlos laughed. “He whistled and said I spent too much.”

“To impress the Cap it must be a lot,” Judd said with a small whistle of his own.

“Well, what was it Michael Scott said? Three years’ salary?”

Judd’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and Carlos laughed harder before wincing again at his broken rib. “I’m kidding, Judd. But I can tell you, no matter the cost, TK deserves the best and that’s what I hope I got.”

“You gonna make another reservation? Soon as y’all get back into fightin’ shape?”

Carlos looked down at the box again for a moment, contemplating. “I…don’t think so.”

Judd had a confused expression on his face but at that moment, a nurse was wheeling TK into the room, followed by most of the 126. Carlos’s face lit up like starlight at the sight of him.

“Hey, babe,” TK said with a smile. His leg was in a full cast, so the nurse was careful in maneuvering him around to Carlos’s bedside.

“Hey, I feel like you should be the one in bed! Why are you out and about?”

“Because you were still asleep and he’s an absolute menace. We made multiple apologies to the staff on his behalf for the last hour,” Owen said as he walked into the room behind his crew. “He’s a stubborn little shit. Always has been, always will be. You sure you’re up for that?” He asked knowingly. TK was still looking at Carlos, blushing at his dad’s ribbing. Carlos met his eyes and said, “Yes.” He blushed more.

“In fact,” Carlos continued. “I’m ready to get started. I’ve waited too long anyway. I mean, how many times do you and I have to beat death before I get the nerve to do this?” He said, looking into TK’s beautiful eyes which were looking confused.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“Look, I’m sorry this didn’t go how I planned. And I’m sorry I can’t get down on one knee right now, but. I hope you love me enough not to mind.” He lifted his good arm, his hand holding out the box. “A little help, Judd?”

“It’d be an honor,” the man said before leaning in and opening the box, since Carlos only had one good arm.

At the sight of the contents of the box, TK’s eyes went as big as saucers. Surprise was written clearly over every inch of his features, which were all still beautiful even scarred and stitched up as they were at the moment. God, Carlos loved this man so much.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, you are the love of my life. I tried so many different scenarios in my head of how this speech would go, before I just said screw it, I’ll speak from the heart. You’re kind, funny, sexy, sweet, and everything in between. You can’t boil water and you absolutely can’t properly separate laundry. I have a dozen pink shirts as proof of that.” At this, the gathered group chuckled and TK went bright red. “Ah, but you also know just how to ease the tension from a long day just by hugging me on the doorstep. And I can always count on you to be there for me when the world gets too much, when what we see out there creeps in too far. And I want you to know, that I want to be that for you too, for the rest of our lives. So, TK. Will you marry me?”

The room was silent, apart from the hum and beeps of the machines. Everyone on the edge of their proverbial seats, but no one having any doubt to the outcome.

“Oh, my God! Of course I’ll marry you! Yes, yes! Yes!” The last was said through TK’s fingers covering his red face, hiding the few tears that had started to fall. He held out his left hand to Carlos, who Judd had kindly helped by removing the ring from its box and handing it back to him. He slid it over TK’s finger, smiling like an idiot the whole time, barely registering the whoops and hollers of the 126 throughout the room.

He only had eyes for TK.

“I love you,” TK breathed through his happy tears.

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

“Oh, my God, dude, were you seriously surprised?” Nancy asked incredulously once the commotion had died down.

“Well…yeah? I didn’t expect this at all,” TK said, looking sheepish.

“TK…my dude…he was taking you to Jeffrey’s! How could you not know?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter and TK ducked his head again. Carlos reached out and touched his chin, catching his eyes again.

There was nothing but love there.

CLEARLY every Tarlos fic I write has to have a proposal in it *shrug emoji*

Also I wrote this in like an hour after I had a dream so please excuse any typos I didn’t catch!

Please reblog if you liked it! I would really really appreciate it :) Thank you for reading!

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #brooke writes

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potionsprefect · 3 years

Text

One Split Second

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: An incident in the hospital sends shockwaves

Rating: T

Category: angst/trauma (but there’s a happy ending)

Victoria Clarke walked the corridors of Bloom Edenbrook, smiling to fellow doctors and nurses who were attending to patients. She headed over to the admin desk to pick up a new patient chart, having previously discharged her last one.

“Hi Ines. Any interesting cases come in today?” Victoria asked as she approached the doctor.

“Hiya Victoria. Take your pick. The sooner we discharge these patients, the better. How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Ines replied brightly.

“We’re getting there. These last few months are stressful making sure everything’s in order. I’ve already fallen out with my sister-in-law twice over my nieces bridesmaid dress.” Victoria sighed.

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. What was it over? Angie had a similar problem with hers and opted for none in the end!” Ines laughed slightly.

“I wanted my niece Isabella to wear a headband on the day but my sister-in-law disagreed saying she would find it itchy. She wanted her to wear a flower crown but I’m not a big fan of those. This was two weeks ago and we haven’t really spoken since.” Victoria sighed.

Victoria loved her sister in law Erin but she really wished she had listened to what she was trying to point out. Erin was adamant that Isabella wouldn’t wear the headband but Victoria had said she had worn them before. Erin said she knew her daughter best and that she wouldn’t wear one and Victoria couldn’t persuade her. They hadn’t spoken since.

“Oh I’m sorry. Nine times out of ten the stress leading up to a wedding is usually always something to do with bridesmaids. But all of that won’t spoil your big day! I’m so excited for you!”

“Thanks Ines.” Victoria smiled.

“Instead of taking your pick, I’ve got one case here for you.” Ines pointed to the whiteboard. “It’s just been assigned to you which I found a little strange but I guess it’s nothing abnormal. Here’s the chart.” Ines handed Victoria a standard looking chart.

“Thanks Ines” Victoria smiled as she walked off down the corridor and into the elevator to see the said patient.

Her route to the patients room took her past her fiancé’s office. She saw him through the window, working away at the laptop in front of him. Victoria made a mental note to go visit him once she has assessed her new patient.

Finding the correct room, Victoria opened the door and noticed the curtains were drawn around the bed.

“Mr Embleton?” Victoria pulled back the curtain and froze in her steps.

“Well well well. Hello Victoria. What a nice surprise seeing you here.” A young man smirked from his bedside.

“George Embleton?! What are you doing here?” Victoria stepped back.

“What does it look like I’m doing here? I’ve injured my leg. I need stitches.” George pointed to his leg. “And you’re going to be the one to do it.”

“Why me?”

“Because I said so.” George replied.

Victoria eyed the young man she had once been at school with. He had always been a nasty piece of work. What was he doing in Boston?

Victoria grabbed the suturing kit and pulled up a stool and set to work on stitching George’s leg. Victoria could just see out the corner of his eye him watching her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake.

“So what are you doing here in Boston?”

“A simple hello would’ve sufficed. But as you’re clearly so desperate, I’m here for a conference. Not that it’s any of your business.” George replied.

“Part of my job is to make conversation to keep the patients at ease, whether I know them or not is irrelevant.” Victoria replied not looking up from her work.

“You always were a mouthy little cow at school, shame your attitude hasn’t changed.”

“And you’re still treating me like you did all these years later. And for the record, the Wilkinson School of Dancing thought I was amazing, no matter what your little friends told you.” Victoria looked up at him.

“Keep telling yourself that Clarke, I’m not the one who fumbled up a big performance.” George shrugged.

“Only after you shouted out that you’d seen less fat on a piece of steak than my thighs.” Victoria said eyes burning with tears.

Dance used to be her life. She thought about becoming a professional dancer instead of a doctor but that one performance shattered her confidence that she never danced in front of an audience again.

“Wasn’t lying though was I?”

“Not even your friends could persuade you to dial it down a bit. Did someone hurt you in another life and you were reborn so you could be hellbent on getting revenge?” Victoria hit back. He wasn’t going to come here and terrorise her. Not now and not ever.

“Shut your mouth.” George snapped.

“Luckily for you I will. Because I’m done. I’ll get you your discharge paper and you can get the hell out of here so I never have to see your face again.” Victoria said standing up.

As Victoria turned her back, what she didn’t know was that George had a lighter in his hand and a cigarette in the other. She also didn’t notice when she originally walked into the room that he had an IV in his arm.

What happened next, seemed to happen in slow motion. George flicked the lighter and Victoria found herself thrown to the floor, her ears ringing, vision blurry, she could just about make out an orange flame before everything went black

— — — — —

Ethan headed down the stairs, a small spring in his step. Life really couldn’t be much better. He was about to marry the love of his life in a few months and he was looking forward to starting a new life with her.

“Doctor Ramsey!” A voice called behind him. Ethan turned round to see Sienna walking towards him, chart in hand.

“Doctor Trinh.” Ethan nodded as she came and stood next to him.

“I just wanted to check that you are ok. Victoria mentioned she was having a slight disagreement with her sister in law over wedding planning and I wanted to check that you’re not caught in the middle.”

“That’s very kind of you Sienna.” Ethan chuckled.

“Just trying to be a better person every chance I get.” Sienna shrugged.

“There’s a lot of people out in the world who would be grateful for you checking up on them. I am definitely one of them.” Ethan smiled.

“Thank you. So tell me. Has the storm weathered or are the clouds still rolling?” Sienna laughed a little.

“To be honest it’s just raining at this point. They haven’t spoken since but the storm clouds have evaporated. William and I are trying to make peace but Erin is standing firm by her decision.” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sure she’ll come around. It’s Victoria’s and your wedding in the end. What Victoria wants should be the final decision.” Sienna said.

“I hope so. I just don’t want that to overshadow the big day.”

“It won’t. All that matters that day is you two and your happiness. Besides, we’ve all been planning a special present for the two of you so even if the wedding goes wrong, you’ll have something to cheer you up.” Sienna laughed a little.

“Thanks Sienna, although I hope-“

BOOM!

The noise was deafening. Everyone within a few feet of the blast were thrown off their feet. Glass shattered everywhere and there was the smell of smoke and a bright orange flame.

Ethan lifted his head and saw others slowly getting to their feet. He looked round and saw Sienna lying a few feet away, covered in blood.

“Sienna! Are you okay?” Ethan moved over to her, helping her get to her feet.

“Yeah I think so. Is that blood?” She felt her forehead and felt something sticky. “Oh god.”

“Go and get yourself cleaned up.” Ethan said.

“No no I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Sienna insisted. “Where did this explosion come from?”

“I don’t know. We need to open this door.” Ethan said.

He decided to break the door down not knowing what to expect behind it. Once he kicked the door off it’s hinges his heart stopped.

There on the floor, laid his beautiful fiancé. Ethan dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his hands, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Sienna cried. “I’ll go grab a gurney!” She hurried off and came back with two nurses who were pushing a gurney.

“Do blood work and get her vitals. And we need a head CT just to be sure.” Ethan barked as he picked up his soon to be bride and laid her gently on the gurney.

“Got it, we’ll look after her.” Sienna reassured him. She knew he wanted to stay but his anger was high. He needed to stay calm and seeing Victoria how she was wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Sienna-“

“No Ethan. She’ll be okay. She’s in safe hands. Help others who are injured and find out what the hell has happened.” Sienna instructed as she wheeled Victoria away to a trauma room.

Ethan watched her be wheeled away by the nurses, panic still rushing though his veins. His thoughts were interrupted by an object approaching him out the corner of his eye.

“I am here to help. Please do not interfere with my work.” Binx’s cheery voice echoed.

“Yes yes carry on you overgrown pile of nuisance.” Ethan huffed.

“You sound angry. I am trained to-“

Ethan punched him.

— — — — —

The bright lights were beginning to irritate her, voices swarmed around, not to mention the pounding as if someone was hitting her head with a hammer.

“I think she’s waking up!” A familiar voice said. Victoria opened her eyes to see a dozen pair of eyes looking down at her.

“Victoria? Can you hear me?” Sienna voice said.

“Yeah I... what happened?” Victoria said groggily.

“There was an explosion in one of the rooms. Luckily you’re not too badly injured.” Sienna replied.

“Shame about the other guy.” Jackie said.

“Other guy?” Victoria asked. Then it hit her. “Oh my god! My patient!” Victoria sat up.

“Woah Vic calm down! He’s okay. Well kind of. He wasn’t badly injured, but he was arrested.” Bryce said from the foot of the bed.

“What?!”

“Yeah it turns out the saline bags had ether in them, one spark and then everything just blew up. He apparently had a lighter in his pocket.” Elijah said.

“He said he knew you. Who was he?” Rafael asked from where he was sat.

“I... I went to school with him. He used to bully me relentless.” Victoria sighed.

“So how comes you were assigned to him?” Sienna asked.

“I may have an answer to that.” Jackie said. Everyone looked at her as she turned to Victoria, looking at her sympathetically. “You know the lab technician Eliza Fitzgerald? Turns out they’re cousins. She was the one who put the saline bags in even though he didn’t require them. And she put your name on the board at his request. They’re both in custody now.”

“But why?” Bryce said.

“Because he hates me. And he clearly wanted to step everything up a notch.” Victoria said tears rolling down her face.

“We’d never let anyone hurt you. You’ll always have us and Ethan.” Sienna put an arm around her.

“Speaking of Ethan why isn’t he round my bedside? And where’s Aurora?”

“Patching up your fiancées hand. He and Binx had an unfortunate encounter earlier.” Elijah chuckled.

“It was quite a sight to see.” Rafael laughed.

“He’s also barking out orders to the hospital board about employee safety. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Naveen look so wary of him.” Jackie said.

“I’ve made a mental note to never cross Ramsey’s path.” Bryce chuckled.

“I’ll page him, we’ll come by and see you tomorrow.” Sienna gave Victoria a hug. The rest of the group filtered out the room as Victoria gazed out into the dark sky, the city sparkling under the moonlight.

“You need to stop scaring me Rookie.” A voice suddenly said. Victoria looked towards the door to see her fiancée hurrying over to her bed, wrapping her up in his arms when he got close enough.

“I’m so sorry Ethan.” Victoria sighed leaning into his embrace.

“What on earth are you apologising for? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Ethan said kissing her cheek, running a hand through her hair. “Dr Varma explained everything to me.”

“I thought I could handle it. I had no idea what he was doing.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. He’s locked up, far away from you, he can’t hurt you again.”

“I know and I’m glad. Although from what I’ve heard, it sounds like I’m not the only one who ran into an old foe today.” Victoria chuckled slightly, picking up Ethan’s hand that was wrapped in a bandage and kissed it.

“That calculator made its final equation.” Ethan chuckled resting his chin on top of Victoria’s head.

“I wish I was there to see it.” Victoria smiled.

“You wouldn’t have stopped talking about it for weeks.”

“Of course. And I think everyone would be gossiping as well. I heard you went to the boards and gave them a tough time.”

“I did what I was obliged to do, not just as your fiancé but as your boss. Our doctors should be safe when they are in work, everything could’ve ended up so different tonight.” Ethan sighed.

“Luckily it didn’t.” Victoria smiled.

“Indeed. I love you, you know.” Ethan looked at her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to marry you.” Victoria smiled.

“And I can’t wait to marry you.” Ethan smiled kissing her passionately. The two began to lose themselves in each other’s kiss before the vibrating of a phone forced them to break apart.

“Who’s that?” Ethan kissed her cheek, nuzzling his nose there.

“It’s Erin.” Victoria said confused. “You were right, I’m sorry.” She looked at Ethan.

“Sounds like she’s willing to compromise about the headband.” Ethan chuckled tightening his arms around her.

“Sounds like she is.” Victoria stared at her phone.

“Come on, you need sleep.” Ethan took her phone and put it away and forced Victoria to lie down before he laid down next to her.

“Are you staying the night?” Victoria looked up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ethan replied.

“Good. I want a cuddle.”

“You always want a cuddle.”

“You give the best cuddles, I always want more.”

The couple drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

— — — — —

Well that was a ride! But we love a happy ending!

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#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke #Ethan x Victoria #playchoices #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #angst #fluff #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #choices: open heart

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vintage-squid · 3 years

Text

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together Word count: 10 363

-----

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

#anxceit #healthy anxciet #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #fae au #eros and psyche #squid scribbles

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 10

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, introducing more Marlene, unreliable narrative-ish Author’s notes: Ngl, I had to rush this one.

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 9: One Hundred and Fifty Points

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

November rolled around signifying the start of the new Quidditch season. Inside the great hall was flooded with the smell of sausages and fried eggs along with the cheerful chatter of students looking forward to the first match.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first teams set to play and their relationship had never been so tense until now; even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who liked to join in on the playful raillery decided not to participate.

Whenever a Gryffindor was to pass by the Slytherin table to get to their respective seats or simply walk through the entrance, a hassle of insults and boos would follow and vice versa.

While both houses had their own tactics to mess with each other, the Slytherins had tactics that transpired off the pitch and were brought into daily life. It was a smart move, and some of the newer Gryffindor players allowed it to bother them even before stepping foot onto the field. The insults built over the past couple of years, largely because Gryffindor had yet to lose a single game since James joined the team a little over three years ago.

And since James was newly appointed captain, they were relentless.

In the days leading up to the match, whenever Y/N accompanied James through the halls, whispers of childish remarks like, “I bet Potty is going to go to the potty after Talkalot throws him off his broom,” and other insults follow him, varying from his abilities or his capability to lead his team to victory.

Despite the relentless jeers, James managed to take them in stride, constantly donning a bright smile. Not once had it wavered him or chilled his blood. If anything, he took it as a compliment and even bounced off of it with a witty response. A few times, he even repeated the insult, announcing it loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear before turning the joke on them.

But today, he finally cracked. Marlene, who joined the team last year as a chaser, was beyond ecstatic while James’ smile was non-existent. It was fairly evident to everyone who knew him that his smile and body language faked confidence in an attempt to mask nervousness.

As his first year as captain, James had an extreme burden on his shoulders. Stakes were at an all-time high to continue the three-year-long title holder of the Quidditch cup. He was under a constant microscope. Everyone was curious to see how James led his team. Not only did he have to prove his abilities as a leader but was also in jeopardy of staying captain for next year. His status depended on these games.

Additionally, the potential loss would be devastating. James was not the first pick as captain for this year. Charlie Bell, a seventh year, was supposed to take his place with James coaching the year after he left, but Bell stepped down, preferring to spend his time focusing on NEWT revisions. Although due to his time studying, Bell’s abilities were admittedly sloppy and began to worry James as he was not up to his standards.

Although in Y/N’s (biased) opinion, James had nothing to worry about.

He insisted on daily practices ever since try-outs were held in early September. It was even hard to catch Marlene who’d been James’ left-hand man of sorts. Today, the two players woke up bright and early in preparation for the first game. They woke up at six o’clock in the morning, to Marlene’s dismay, and went for a light jog and a quick exercise. The rest of the Gryffindor team was there and went over their ground plan again.

Y/N had seen a few of their practices to support them and bring any food incase they missed breakfast or dinner. James was absolutely merciful. Like any good captain, he listened and attended to the needs of his players, but he held Marlene’s opinion higher than the rest.

Rumours floated around the two and she was excited to see if they held true. Both players had become great partners and were almost unstoppable on the field. Because of this, it was highly anticipated that Gryffindor was going to win, especially with how gruelling James’ coaching methods were compared to former captains. Bets were placed ranging from Knuts, Sickles and Galleons.

Due to the overwhelming pressure, James was at a loss for words, for once. His anxiety spiked and the only person who could talk any sense into was Marlene; both sharing an odd, yet special bond.

Even in the days leading up, Mcgonagall, who she’d found out was very gifted and a huge fan of the sport, took notice of his unusual and quiet behaviour. McGonagall let loose, avoiding giving out homework for the week. She had even opted to avoid giving James any.

It was quite clear McGonagall had a soft spot for the marauders, often letting them do as they pleased while at harshest, taking away house points and sparingly handing them detentions. James, of course, had been using this to his advantage as he pleaded to give the entire Gryffindor team no homework using the famous ‘but we have practice!’ excuse.

When she arrived in the hall with Dorcas, the moment they walked through the entrance, the Slytherin table booed in their direction but was rivalled with a thunderous welcome from the Gryffindor table. Everyone in sight wore red and gold.

James had a vice-grip on Quidditch Through the Ages while in the other hand, tried but failed, to shovel potatoes in his mouth. Marlene sat on his left, reviewing several techniques they could use last minute that the Slytherins may not expect coming. They were already wearing their jerseys. Plastered on Marlene’s chest in bright yellow was the number 6 while James was 7. Their uniforms were identical aside from the pin on James’ shirt that caught everyone’s attention. A shiny new captain’s badge sitting proudly on his chest.

Both were talking to each other rapidly, barely registering their friends sitting down beside them.

“Don’t be thick,” said Marlene, “This is going to work. Stop second-guessing.”

“I’m mental. Abso-fucking-bloody-mental … What was I thinking?”

“Potter,” she scolds, “get it together. Now, in about an hour, we’re going to be walking on the pitch. We’ve practiced for hours — days even — much more than the Slytherins have. You were made captain for a reason and we have back-up plans. We’re beyond ready.”

He sighs, taking a deep inhale. “Okay… Okay.”

Within a few seconds, the air around him shifts and James' assertive and authoritative side takes over. “What were you suggesting earlier?”

“We have to go underneath and cut them off. Trust me, they won’t expect it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“What broom model do you have?”

“Nimbus 1984.”

Marlene scoffs, “Should’ve known, Mr. ‘Trust fund’ Potter. Anyway, yours is the fastest and newest — ought to be the first one to cut ‘em. Lead the way.”

James stops to ponder before bobbing his head in agreement, “Sounds good, but Bell?”

“— do you think he can do it?”

“Not sure. Maybe he will once the rush comes — no — we can use him as a decoy then.”

The sudden uproar of cheers and boos of both Gryffindors and Slytherins attempting to drown each other reached the table’s ears again, James looked down at his lap. Even Marlene’s leg started bouncing up and down.

Lily was about to make a harmless jab before Marlene’s eyes shot up to her, shaking her head warningly.

James was truly losing his shit inside and out.

“Mental,” he grumbles out. He barely registers his body move on its own accord. Marlene followed his lead, getting up with him before his attention was drawn back to everyone in front of him.

“You coming, right? Gotta see my moves,” James tries to joke, looking at Y/N.

“She better or I’ll drag her onto the field.” Marlene cuts in. Judging by the burning look in her eyes, Marlene was far from joking.

“Of course I will.” She then directs the next sentence mostly to James, “You’re going to crush them.”

A nod of approval comes from both players. Marlene’s chest puffs out from the praise, even going as far to dramatically flick her hair over her shoulder while James seems to relax considerably.

“Of course we are. You are talking to the King of Quidditch.”

“Hem hem — and queen!”

“My bad — and queen. We’re going to win.” It was nice seeing his arrogant side back.

“Pff— that’s not even a question,” Marlene says, “I’d rather fling my body off a tower if we lose this game.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At eleven o’clock sharp, the entire school sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. From there, she could smell the fresh-cut grass, filling the air as cold steel filtered through her lungs. It was refreshing and tickled the inside of her nose. The seats were raised high, a warming charm placed on them, courtesy of Flitwick.

Flakes of dewey frost coated the field and stands. The wind howled as a few brooms whipped back and forth, checking to see if everything was in proper condition before the start of the game. Unfortunately for the players, stormy grey clouds were raised high and there was a high risk of rain or snow. It surely was going to make catching the Golden Snitch harder.

All the girls were there to support Marlene. Lily and Dorcas went all out and brought a huge poster. Streaks of red and gold were painted underneath their eyes as leftover gold tinsel from the Halloween party was woven into Lily’s hair. Many other students also held large signs, waving flags; even Y/N and Mary had binoculars secured around their necks.

A large lion was charmed onto the sign, moving back and forth before opening its mouth to roar. In bold letters, it read Gryffindor’s Weapon, McKinnon! Dorcas placed another charm on so the letters interchanged between red and gold, flashing similar to a new-maj diner sign.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the pitch. In a flash, the two teams came out, shouldering their brooms in a single file line from two hidden doors beneath the stands. At the front, the team’s respective captains led them to the middle. A deafening applause greeted them. Some players even waved back to the crowd for louder cheers.

A few rows down, sitting in the very front was Sirius and Peter, rapidly waving their arms around and cheering. Peter bent down, pulling up a sign that read Potter’s Preeminence . Even with the distance, Y/N could hear Sirius’ screaming. He wore a paper mache lion head while Peter wore the body of a lion.

‘YOU GOT THIS PRONGS! FUCKING CRUSH THEIR TINY LITTLE SNAKE BONES— LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR, LET’S GO WOOWOO!”

What caught her eye was Remus’ absence. She was under the impression that he and James were close friends, so surely he would have been there in support knowing that this game was immensely important to him.

Back on the field, the captains shook their hands. James’ head was held high, determined not to break eye contact first. However, the other captain simply smirked and leant in to whisper something in his ear before Hooch scolded her. When she pulled back, Y/N could hardly see James’ expression but she managed to catch a small glimpse.

He looked, well, she didn't know what his expression meant. Angry? Nervous? Annoyed?

This was her cue, “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU JAMES!” She shouted so loud that it managed to travel down to him. Sirius’ head whipped back, even looking appreciative at her encouragement.

James managed to hear and his head perked up. His head swivelled towards her, his frown wiped off as his confidence returned. Behind him, Marlene looked up to the stands and Y/N, along with the other girls, shot her a thumbs up.

Madam Hooch continued to give her speech. James looked determined, his head tilting towards Marlene as they nodded to each other in encouragement. Y/N was unfamiliar with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, but surprisingly, Regulus Black was standing there. Unlike the other warm brown and golden brooms, Regulus’s broom was black, accented with silver metal. An odd mark was engraved on the widest part of the base.

Due to the distance, it was hard to make out what was engraved or what position he played before Madam Hooch grabbed her silver whistle, which was comically too big.

“Mount your brooms,” she said, the entire crowd hearing. She lifted the whistle to her mouth and gave a loud blast. The game began.

Fifteen brooms flew high into the air. The clouds covering a couple of players passing by.

The announcer’s voice fills the air. “Anddd we’re off! Gryffindor’s newest captain, James Potter, 7, has the Quaffle and— he passes it to Charlie Bell, 2. This is his last year on the team so everyone give him a loud cheer— he sends the Quaffle back to Potter— and he passes it over to Marlene McKinnon, 6, and— no— the Slytherins swiped the Quaffle! Captain Emma Vanity, 21, flies away and she dives— she passes it to Rhys Calwald, also a seventh year— McKinnon comes back and takes it! She’s— a Gryffindor is down! Bell was hit by a Bludger and— he’s back up, perfectly fine— Potter is by the goalpost and blocks off the Slytherins, speeding up. Above, Phoebe Dawson, 1, joined as the Gryffindors newest seeker. She’s high in the clouds, neck and neck with Regulus Black, 8, Slytherin’s seeker and— there’s a clear shot to search for the Snitch. The Quaffle is taken by Bell and— Slytherin’s chaser takes it! Chaser Lucinda Talkalot, 4— their beater bats it away from an incoming Bludger— Talkalot is rounding on Gryffindor’s goalpost— she’s close, Vanity is there— she dives— she shoots— and… and— SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

Gryffindors groan while Slytherin cheers and wave their signs higher. A roar of claps goes around.

Now Lily is screaming, her hands are stretched out, waving her large sign above her head, blocking the unlucky students sitting behind her. “THAT WAS ONLY TEN POINTS! GET THEM MARLS— YES! LOOK AT THAT DIVE!”

Down below, Peter and Sirius are mirroring Lily. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT POTTER?! COME ON WE KNOW YOU CAN GET EM! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING! FUCKING CRUSH THEM!"

Y/N grabbed her binoculars, bringing them to her eyes. Marlene was high up, open for James who had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He does not look over to her, but rather looks at Bell before he throws it to her, his eyes still trained on Bell. Marlene catches it and from the trick James pulled, she has an extra few seconds before the Slytherins catch her. Marlene speeds away as a Bludger is directed at her. Luckily, one of Gryffindor’s beaters already flung it away as Charlie came rushing close to Marlene’s side, warding off any Slytherins as best as he could.

The commentator cuts in again. “Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. McKinnon and Bell are flying closer to the goalpost—Slytherin's keeper is standing tall at their net, Ashworth, 3— they’re speeding towards— look! It’s the Snitch!”

The two seeker’s heads shot up. A low murmur spreads through the crowd as they caught sight of a flash of gold. Only for a second, they saw the little ball, its wings fluttering madly before it disappeared back into the clouds.

Slytherin directs a Bludger towards Phoebes before Gryffindor’s beater comes rushing up to swat it away.

Gryffindor still is under the possession of the Quaffle. Marlene and Charlie have been passing it back and forth while James comes back around. His body is pressed close to his broom. He does a funny hand movement, signalling to the rest of the chasers before they swoop down suddenly. Everyone is confused and Charlie is flying in the opposite direction, some of the Slytherins follow him before Marlene passes the Quaffle at James and shoots.

"— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Another round of cheers echoes through Gryffindor’s side. Lily’s clapping slowed. She wanted to show support for Marlene, her house, but not for James. As the Quaffle is sent back up to the air, James and Marlene high-five each other discreetly before returning to their positions.

The Slytherins rush back towards Gryffindors goalpost; they're zigzagging through the air, violent swishes to avoid chasers from cutting them off again.

"Slytherin's in possession. Vanity is on Talkalot's right— passes it to her— shots— misses! Talkalot gets another rebound—

Y/N's attention is drawn back to the seekers. A beater is rapidly swatting away Bludgers as Phoebe is neck and neck with Regulus. Her eyes are stuck through the binoculars.

All of the sudden, a Bludger collided hard with James' broom, so strongly that Y/N swore a chip of wood was knocked off. His broom vibrates hard but his grip is still secured tightly to prevent bucking off. The Bludger was so close to his face that for a split second everyone thought it might've broken his nose. The crowd was cheering on intently while Sirius and Peter screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. Gryffindor gets a free score on Slytherins goalpost. Marlene is the one to score.

"NICE JOB MARLS!" Lily bellows. Her voice is high-pitched and cuts through the air loud enough that Marlene looks over and gives a thumbs up.

By now, Slytherin has scored eleven times while Gryffindor was merely in the lead by ten points. Slytherin was rapidly gaining on them. Vanity and Talkalot were great at their positions.

"Gryffindors in possession! Bell’s got the Quaff— a Bludger is coming towards Potter again—” The iron ball was barrelling towards him, again. A beater shouted, warning him before James zoomed across the field as fast as he could. A beater trailed after him and swatted it away, narrowly avoiding being hit.

James ducked as another Bludger was rocketed in his direction.

"— BLOCKED! YEAH, SCUMBAGS — Sorry McGonagall!— Bell is gaining on the Slytherins and aiming at Ashworth. McKinnon is seconds behind— the seekers spotted the Golden Snitch!"

There was an edge of panic that soared through everyone’s hearts as both of the seekers dived down so fast that the chasers and beaters had to move out of their way. It was neck and neck, both flattened to their broom and the crowd only saw the glimpse of golden sparkles. Both reached out their hands.

It was only then a Bludger hit the back of Phoebe's broom, similar to James, causing her to lunge forward and off her broom.

Both seekers were laid on the ground. Everyone peered at the crash worried about their safety before Regulus lifted his hand, waving it above his head.

"I got the Snitch!" Regulus pants out.

James came rushing down to his teammate's side to make sure they weren't badly injured. He screamed for Madam Hooch.

After careful deliberation, Hooch ultimately decided that Slytherin won, awarding them the extra one hundred and fifty points. Gryffindor lost by thirty points.

"That was an illegal Bludger attack!" Marlene says.

"What the fuck?! That's rubbish!" Sirius screamed. Mary, Lily, Dorcas and Y/N groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins chanted, waving their banners around and screaming as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped.

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!” The Slytherins sang.

James, while still upset at the ruling, was more upset at his team member’s pain. Nobody knew what happened, but James seemed to leave Phoebe's side once he knew she was okay and stormed off in the direction of Vanity. Marlene grabbed a hold of his uniform to pull him back.

“James, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethes into his ear, "Don’t start muggle duelling!"

“Are you fucking joking?” He bits back, “I’m not going to hit a woman!”

“Then calm down now.”

Whatever it was, James felt himself cool down considerably as he looked to Marlene. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to talk some sense into her.”

“Dreadful temper you’ve got there Potter.” Vanity spits out. She walks up to him, a pitiful smile on her.

“You need to keep your beaters in check,” he spits. Sparks fly from his nose as he marches back to Phoebe. By now, Madam Pomfrey has her laid back on a stretcher. James helps her, picking up the other end and walking back through the hidden doors. The team shuddered, trailing after them.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It was a devastating blow for Gryffindor. Everywhere Y/N looked, angry or disappointed faces would pop up. The team themselves were dejected while the Slytherins have begun planning a party.In the halls, students that made bets disappointedly slapped money it into the palms of students.

Nobody had seen James for hours. He’d left right after the game and all the marauders had disappeared, only reappearing for dinner. Only Sirius and Peter were at the table.

“— We were so close,” said Marlene numbly. “It must have accounted for something, using an illegal move like that.”

“You did amazing, it’s not your fault.” Lily cuts in, patting her on the shoulder.

“Now Potter is going to be ruthless for the next practices.”

A roar of laughter came from the Slytherins, a song chanting from their lips.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor! He calls himself the King of Quidditch, well we call him the second option! Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

“Shut it!” Sirius yelled, “You cheated! Bunch of gits.”

“Knock it off!” Followed Peter.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor!"

Marlene cringes, watching the scene play out. Her grip on her fork tightens that for a moment Y/N thought she would have shattered the metal pieces. “They already won, what more do they want? A bunch of ugly toads...”

“Just ignore them,” Dorcas says. Marlene looked back at her, smiling reassuringly but with effort.

“He calls himself the king of Quidditch, well we call him the second option!”

“I don’t even like him,” Lily says dully, “But this… this is just mean.”

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

No wonder James skipped dinner. Y/N turns her head to look at Sirius and Peter, both upset. A thought passes, perhaps it would be good to see how James was doing, but a small seed of doubt settled in her. If his best friends weren’t with him, then it probably would be better to leave him alone. But starving himself shouldn’t be the other option. As the Slytherins continued to sing, with teachers and prefects starting to get up to stop them, Y/N grabbed a nearby empty plate before piling on spaghetti and bread along with slipping a few utensils in her pockets. She excused herself, nodding to Marlene for comfort and slipping her way out effortlessly as teachers swamped the Slytherin table.

The common room was empty aside from James who was huddled up with his invisibility cloak, staring miserably out a window. Only his head was visible, the rest covering his body. It made her feel a bit queasy.

The fireplace crackled with every step she took. There were a few options Y/N could broach this situation,

She could walk around him like there were eggshells,

Or treat him normally.

She sat down beside him, a bit unsure, handing him his plate. His gaze moves to her, a quick smile flashes.

“Thanks.” He says, taking it from her. He ate in silence for a while, Y/N deciding to talk to fill the silence.

“I was thinking we should play exploding snaps-”

“Hey, look, “ he cuts off fast, nodding stiffly. His smile faded and a hard edge crept in his voice, “you don't have to try and cheer me up—”

“Relax, I’m not here to baby you. You’re doing that already.”

A small huff of amusement comes out, “Well then, mind if I play with you?”

“Of course!”

Whenever James won, and quite honestly he wasn’t the best, he’d make a small whooping sound. Even a few times she lost purposely so he would win.

That is until he spoke again, almost inaudible “You know… I care what people think of me- well certain people and I let them down today.”

“James, you didn’t.”

“I did —”

“Nobody is mad at you. If anything they’re mad at Madam Hooch.”

“Still,” he looked down embarrassed. “What are they saying about me down there?”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment; he would have to find out eventually. “They’re singing.”

“Great.” Although he didn’t look bothered, just annoyed. However, he gained a rush of enthusiasm with his next sentence, “Whatever, I’ll show them next year.”

A few games later, James left before the swarm of students came back to the common room. Again, he covered himself with the cloak and disappeared into the hallway. The spring in his step was noticeably lighter.

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Snippets From My Drafts That Have Been Collecting Dust

(but I don’t know what to do with them and they’re going to waste so..,)

Head propped up on a thin throw pillow, Hotch is laying out on the cheap carpet of the motel floor. One of his elbows rests leaning against the couch beside him. This arm holds the majority of the weight of the book he’s reading. Which he holds up over his head. The hand not holding the book, rest leisurely along its side. This hand loosely leafs a single page free from the other’s behind it, waiting for him to turn it over when he finishes it.

The end of the cigarette bobbing loosely between his lips lights a dark orange as he inhales its fumes. Embers. Reid can hear it sizzle, crack. Before Hotch’s face lips part once more and the smoke comes out his nose. It’s a slowly released force, a patient exhale. Relief.

Without a word, he shifts the weight of the book and reaches down to take the cigarette from between his teeth to pinch it between his fingers. Emily, who lays with her head propped up on his stomach, glances when she senses the movement. Without so much as a word, she takes the cigarette from him. Placing it in her own mouth she hands him the wine she’s eloquently made easy to drink via a tasteful neon pink straw.

He takes this without comment, sipping at it. He grimaces as soon as it hits his tongue, making a distinctly unsatisfied “ech” sound. “I thought you were making a screwdriver,” he mumbles, still grimacing but taking another sip.

Emily looks up and over at him. She shakes her head and her reply comes in a puff of smoke. “I was,” she mumbles, voice thickening with the smoke coating her throat. “Dave said we had to finish this before he was letting me near the vodka.” She returns to her own book, thicker than Hotch’s. With a cover, that’s effortlessly recognizable: Dr. No. James Bond. “I know you don’t like white wine. I wouldn’t have even poured it if Dave had let me pick.”

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

(for “100” Season five episode nine)

Jack hands JJ a Captain America doll. “For daddy,” he instructs with a nod of his little head. His mother and father’s blood has mixed into his cotton blend baby blue t-shirt. An intangible stain on his most prized possession. His Captain American shirt.

JJ cups the figure in her hands, tears swelling in her eyes. His traditionally blonde hair has been crudely drawn over by a sharpie. Making it black.. “I’ll give it to him.” she promises. Lightly, she touches the tiny details of the figure. The belt and features that have worn down with use. With Jack’s love.

“Miss JJ?” Jack’s sucked his thumb into his mouth. A habit she remembers Hotch having a hell of a time getting the boy to kick only a few short months ago. A time that feels so far from now. Another lifetime. Today has been enough already, this isn’t a fight worth having.

JJ’s jogs him up in her arms, holding him a little tighter to her chest. His head having found her shoulder he swings his little legs as he looks up at her. “Yes, Jack?”

He yawns and rubs at his eyes with his fist. “How much longer tell I can see Daddy too?”

Hotch had been taken away in the ambulance. Nearly drunk with confusion he’d gone where directed with no complaint. Raspily asking Dave questions as the EMTs had strapped him to the stretcher, he hadn’t even been aware of the tear streaming down his face.

“In a while,” JJ whispers. She hopes.

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

(I might have used this one in a fic already but I don’t know and can’t find it if so…)

Jack is a baby when Emily Prentiss dies.

Independent, for a five-year-old, Jack still has no formal grasp on what it means to die. He knows Mommy is dead. She’s sleeping in the cemetery and sometimes he and Daddy dress up and go put pretty flowers on stone that says her name. Aunt Jessica tells him Mommy isn’t with the stone anymore but Daddy still talks to it.

Jack doesn’t understand death but he doesn’t have to.

Aunt Pen holds him for a moment too long. His chest feels wrong, his little heart pounding because people hold him like that when something’s wrong.

Uncle Derek’s hand rest on his shoulder, his eyes wet.

JJ presses a kiss to his forehead and sends him to play with Henry. Jack loves Henry but he gets the feeling today isn’t a playing kind of day.

Eventually, Daddy comes and gets him. They sit on the floor-- despite the fact that Jack remembers his father playfully grumbling that he’s getting a little too old to play on the floor anymore. That was only just last week but Jack as the faintest memory of visiting his father in a hospital. Meaning, he understands how things can change very quickly.

And Jack knows. He knew the minute he had to put on the itchy shirt with the collar even though Daddy said they were only going to Uncle Dave’s.

“Buddy--” Jack crawls into his father’s lap and Hotch’s breath is knocked from his lungs. Emily used to fuss with him, constantly reminding him that children are smarter than they’re given credit for. Hotch knows now, as Jack curls his tiny body around his own, that in some small way Jack already knows. “Emmy... Uhm, Emmy’s gone.”

He remembers Daddy was gone once too.

He and Mommy went on vacation. The mean man found them. Then Mommy was gone and Daddy wasn’t.

He’s not so sure that’s what his father’s trying to say.

It’s all he says though because they’re talk it interrupted by Uncle Dave.

“Come here, bub.” Rossi picks Jack up, balancing him on his hip. “Let’s give your ol’ dad a minute, huh?”

Until then Jack hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down his father’s face.

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

Every time Hotch asks someone to come to his office there’s a split second- no matter who is it- where they just sit dumbstruck and anxiety riddled because all they can think is “Am I about to be fired?” Then logic kicks in.

Hotch hasn’t fired anyone. Never. Not even when they deserved it.

Tell that to the seven coffee machines Reid and Prentiss have broken.

The time Morgan took his shirt off and did a hand-stand in the middle of the bullpen- of course, he thought Hotch wouldn’t look but that mother hen sees all.

Garcia’s, very much so, against regulation outfits and sexual innuendos that not only has he been on the receiver end of but also Strauss and the Director.

And he’s Hotch. Those perfectly manicured suits can only do so much to hide away his soft heart and goofy laugh.

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

His fuse is running low. A candle drowning in it’s own wax.

Jack’s sick on the one day off he’s had in two weeks and so the one night he had procured for sleep has just been swept out from underneath his feet. Another cruel joke the world seems to love playing on him. Not that he can be mad at a toddler for being sick.

The team notices the next day. The bags under their eyes have dulled to light bruises, nothing a cup of coffee or two can’t fix. Hotch is late. Not actually late but late for his standards. For the decade or better that Derek Morgan has known Hotch, he gets to the office at 7:30, makes a pot of coffee, and hides in his office until 9:30. Today, he’s nowhere to be found.

When he comes trudging in at 10, two black eyes half-lidded and his suitcase nearly brushing the ground as he makes his way to his office. It’s the kind of sight that makes the busy bullpen sputter to a stop.

He sighs as soon as he notices the attention has shifted to him. He knows today is about to get 10x worse before it gets any better.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareua #emily prentiss #david rossi #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia

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crystalessenceswrites · 3 years

Text

Shadows- Chapter Two

*not my gif* I’m using a Javi one because the vibes match the chapter, sue me

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing (like a lot, I’m sorry), dark themes, attempted drugging, mentions of drugs and alcohol, canon-typical violence, death of a background character, mention of blood Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: yeah I’ve got no chill this week apparently

Chapter Two

A long five weeks pass without any major incidents. There were sightings around town of the mysterious Mandalorian, but everyone went out of their way to stay off his war path. He was busy, sticking his nose in many known crypto communities and businesses. The hunter leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. It was obvious he was getting information for someone, but no one had been able to locate an informant yet. With how accurate his targeting was the assumption was he had another crypto tipping him off, though others were skeptical. Who in the right mind would help a Mandalorian? Everyone was on edge; five weeks was too long for a lone wanderer to stick around and the longer he was in town the higher the risk there would be another run-in. The only upside to it all was that even after all this time he was still alone.

You went about work as close to normal as possible. Zachriel was still in the wind so whatever lead he could have given you was moot for now. There were plenty of other bounties to work, plenty of other criminals and scum to deal with. The jobs went smoothly but you could not help but look over your shoulder every step of the way. It was like you were expecting the Mandalorian to burst through the door again, try to kill you for doing your job. Even after five weeks the paranoia was still there. You were getting rather tired of it. Kira was too. She’d gone on about it all afternoon, saying your stress was stressing her out. Insisted you needed to relax. It had been weeks, you lived and worked in a large city, you did not need to worry about seeing the Mandalorian again. So, with cash in hand from a successful bounty Kira had convinced you to come out for a bit and unwind. Some greasy food and drinks in a mediocre pub was apparently the cure for what ailed you. It had been too long since you’d spent time together outside of work, so you agreed, sliding onto the barstool next to Kira at the waterfront pub.

“See? You don’t spontaneously combust when you take a break,” Kira jokes, bumping shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you flag down a bartender. “Just like you don’t spontaneously burst into flames when you come into work.”

“Rude. Not everyone is a workaholic like you,” the woman pouts. “Plus, I’ve got a niece to look after. Ally’s shop has been doing well so I get to babysit more.”

“That’s good to hear! I’m always saying I need to stop by more, get some flowers for the house.”

“Ally would love to see you, I’m sure. Kayla too. She misses her other aunties.”

“I miss the little angel too. I’ll have to come by next time you’re watching her.” You adored the little bundle of energy that was Kira’s niece. Going on five years old she was incredibly well behaved and beyond sharp. Kira credited her mixed bloodline, thinking Kayla carried more magic in her blood that her mother. Not that Ally didn’t have a little something, there was no way her success as a florist wasn’t in part due to her fey bloodline.

“You can take her instead-” Kira grins- “little squirt tiring you out might do you some good.”

“Not sure why you think wearing me out would be a good idea-” you pause as the grinning bartender approaches.

“What can I get you lovely ladies?”

You shiver as the man blatantly looks both of you over. Kira rolls her eyes at him before passing along your orders.

“This is why I hate going out.”

Kira makes a gagging face when the pasty man turns his back to you. “I can’t blame you there.”

Sighing you glance out over the growing pub crowd. It was still early in the evening; you were sure the place would fill up soon and you would rather finish up and go home before that happened.

There’s a strange prickle of familiarity as your gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered in the back corner by the pool tables. You look over the group again, picking out a broad-shouldered man with a mop of dark curls and neatly trimmed facial hair.

The universe had it out for you, didn’t it?

Kira picks up on your sudden tension, “what’s wrong?”

Spinning back around to the bar you bury your face in your hands. “Five o’clock. Heavy grey jacket, dark curls and facial hair.”

The blonde fakes a laugh, causally looking out over the crowd, “spotted him.”

“That’s the Mando from Lunar.”

“Well shit.” Kira turns back to you, “do you think he’ll recognize you?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth you nod. “If I can pick him out of a crowd my best guess is, he could do the same to me.” It was not as if you’d been wearing anything to disguise your identity when you’d gone to Lunar.

Kira groans.

“We need to leave. Neither of us are armed enough to deal with a Mandalorian.”

“We’ll attract too much attention,” Kira shakes her head. “Just keep your back turned. We’ll have our drinks and then we can leave.”

You were so screwed.

“It’ll be fine. He won’t attack us in public.”

Kira’s point is not all that reassuring. He’d shot at you feet from a crowded crypto-bar. Didn’t seem all that worried about it then either.

With perfectly awful timing the bartender returns, grin still plastered on his face. He passes you both your drinks with a wink, “enjoy ladies.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, absentmindedly passing him a few dollars in tip.

Swirling the drink in one hand you stare vacantly at the glass, no longer in the mood for alcohol. Kira gags at the retreating mans back again. You can’t help but give a halfhearted chuckle at her antics. She always was one to diffuse tense situations.

Kira goes to take a sip of her drink, a sharp acidic odor reaching you as she raises her glass to her lips. You nearly slam her hand down onto the bar top to stop her.

“What in the actual fuck?” She hisses at you.

Wordlessly you swirl her glass around, look for the source of the smell. The slight tinkling against the glass is barely noticeable above the din of the pub crowd.

The bartender was more than just a sleaze.

“There-” you swirl the glass around for her so she can see the last of the opaque orb dissolving into her drink- “succubus tears.”

Human date rape drugs were bad enough. Crypto drugs were beyond insidious in their effects. Was this what the Mandalorian was here about?

Kira’s lip curls into a snarl, “son of a bitch.”

“I’d heard there was something hanky going on in the neighborhood, but his face isn’t on any of the bounty lists.”

If looks could kill the bartender would be long dead from Kira’s piercing gaze. Not that she wouldn’t actually kill him with her bare hands without so much as a second thought. “I’m sure I’d remember his ugly mug if it was. Drugging patrons’ drinks, fucking monster in a target rich environment.”

He had been kicking around the pub for over an hour when Din began to doubt Karga’s information. There had been more than a handful of women who had come and gone at the bar with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Din wondered if Karga was just trying to get rid of some local competition. The police reports he’d supplied Din with were the only reason he stuck around. Six women had disappeared in the last three weeks, all of them had last been seen at the bar. The bartender on shift was a known narcotics dealer but the police had not been able to pin anything on him. Karga had suggested maybe he was using some sort of drug humans wouldn’t know how to look or test for. It was entirely possible. So, Din kept sipping at his beer, watching the crowd with his back to the wall.

A sudden movement at the far end of the counter caught his eye. The two women who had come in maybe ten or so minutes ago were talking rather hurriedly, leaning in with their gazes fixed on the bartender. Din perked up when the man noticed their stares. He could see the sweat forming on the man’s brow from his vantage point. Had these two caught him in the act?

Eyes glued to the floor the bartender skitters away to the back of the venue, Din moves to follow, only pausing when he notices the two women also rushing after him. The blonde has a piercing gaze that could kill, only confirming his theory. Din’s whole body tenses when he catches the profile of the second woman, the same cold look on her face as when she stared him down, sword in hand.

What was she doing here? What was she doing with his suspect? Again.

Karga had looked into her after the events at Lunar but had come up empty. He didn’t even have a name for the mysterious woman, just a series of security cam photos from outside the club every few months over the past few years. She was obviously doing business with the bar owner but Karga had been right, she left him with more questions than answers.

Din pauses for a moment before following the three into the back. He clears what appears to be a storeroom and the office before coming up on a busted loading dock door.

“You know all we wanted was the night off.”

Din inches through the dark dock, following the voices to the back alley.

“Then walk away, bitch!”

Crouching behind a pillar Din can make out most of the scene. The bartender stands next to a second, knife-wielding man with greasy grey hair. The mystery woman and her friend both have swords drawn and pissed off looks in their eyes.

“Slayers don’t walk away until the bounty’s dead. You should know that,” the blonde taunts.

Slayers? Bounties?

“You two are gonna’ be the dead ones!” the bartender shouts, pulling a handgun out of thin air, and aiming for the pair.

Din allows himself a moment of awe as the women spring into action. They’re well trained and comfortable with the weapons they wield. Swords were not Din’s preferred choice for a gunfight but the two were fast. Inhumanly fast. Although Din had yet to identify what species they were, he knew they were not human.

Despite the inherent disadvantage the blonde woman appeared to be fending off the bartender without too much sweat. His mystery woman on the other hand almost appeared to be toying with the accomplice. She had him cornered and disarmed; the corner of her lips ever so slightly quirked up.

“Last chance to surrender or I’m collecting the bounty on your corpse.”

They never surrender but you offer anyways. If you didn’t have to deal with a dead body, you’d gladly take it. The idea was particularly tempting considering you were not exactly prepared to dispose of a body right now.

The man snarls and gnashes his inhuman teeth at you, façade slipping off his visage. You’d take that as a ‘no’ on the surrender.

“I hate imps,” you mutter, lunging at the bounty. A gunshot echoes through the alley as your sword pierces the heart of your bounty.

“Shit!” Kira spits, her blade clattering on the pavement.

“Serves you right, bitch!”

You spin around to find the bartender aiming for Kira’s head, feral grin splitting across his face as she clutches a now-bleeding arm to her chest. No matter how fast you were, you couldn’t get to him before he pulled the trigger. What a great situation you two had unknowingly walked in on.

Every part of you freezes as another shot reverberates in the alley. It takes you a moment to process it wasn’t aimed at Kira.

The bartender stumbles back, hands scrambling to put pressure on the new hole in his leg. You track backwards to find the Mandalorian standing on the loading dock, smoking gun hanging loose in one hand.

“Fuck,” Kira notices him too, clumsily grabbing at her sword with one hand.

Before you can blink, you’re at her side, helping to put pressure on her upper arm. The wound doesn’t look life threatening but that doesn’t mean you want to wait around for blood loss to kick in. You need to get Kira back to the clinic.

“So, what, the Mando is gonna try and kill us now?” At least she’s lucid enough to have an attitude.

“Mando?” The bartender’s eyes go wide, “hell no.” And he was gone, his blood the on the pavement the only indicator he had occupied the space before you’d blinked. Damn handy dark magic.

Kira rolls her eyes, “coward.”

The Mandalorian scoffs, dark gaze still trained on the two of you.

“What?” you snap back. Two run-ins, you were beyond sick of this guy.

“Since when do you go around killing your own kind?” His gaze flickers back to the body behind you like he could not believe you’d skewered a man through the heart moments ago.

“First off, don’t lump us in with criminal’s-” you sneer- “two, it’s our job.”

You wish you could savor the look of pure confusion that passes over his features, but you are too tuned in to the way his grip tightens around his gun.

“You hunters think just because you know we exist, you know everything,” Kira snickers.

Shaking your head, you try to put yourself in between Kira and the armed man who had no qualms with shooting cryptos. This was not the time for Kira’s abrasive personality. “We’re not your enemy, Mandalorian. Slayers and hunter have essentially the same goal.” That was a bit of stretch but you couldn’t care less. The blood running down Kira’s arm was your first priority.

Kira scoffs, “nah, (Y/N), they kill indiscriminately- they’re the enemy.”

Mando quirks an eyebrow but does not make any move to shoot or approach.

“Kira, enough. We aren’t allowed to kill humas. That’s that.”

She rolls her eyes, “he’s tried to kill you twice. I think that counts.”

“He’s not trying to kill me right now-” you glance back at him- “right?”

The Mandalorian shrugs but slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Maybe this day wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

#fic: Shadows #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #modern au #enemies to lovers #monsters and monster hunters #chapter two #crystalessences writes

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

Text

Horror story 👻

Creepy Things Kids Say

Creepy things kids say to their parents. An internet forum posed a question: “What is the creepiest thing your child has ever said to you?” The responses were scary, spooky, disturbing and chilling:

A friend of mine’s child told him, “Daddy, I love you so much that I want to cut your head off and carry it around so I can see your face whenever I want.”

My 3-year old daughter was standing over her newborn baby brother, looking at him. Then, she turned to me and said, “Daddy, it’s a monster… We should bury it.”

My cousin used to freak he mom out as a child. Whenever her mom would ask her why she did something mean or wrong she would whisper, “The devil told me to do it!”

I was babysitting for a little girl and she asked where I had parked my car. I pointed out the window to my car across the street. She looked at me and said, “Go to it without looking both ways.” I asked her why and she replied, “I want to see someone die.”

One night, I was tucking in my 2-year old son. He said “Goodbye, Dad.” I corrected him, “No, we say goodnight.” He replied, “I know… But this time it’s goodbye…” I had to come back and check on him a few times during the night to make sure he was still there.

My 3-year old son was cuddling with his grandmother. He took her face in his hands, and stared straight into her eyes and said, “You’re very old and you will die soon.” Then he made a point of looking at the clock.

My little girl went through a phase where she would just constantly say ‘Hi’ to things. “Hi hi hi hi hi hi” One day, it sound sounded strange, so I asked her, “What’s that you’re saying?” She turned to face me and just whispered “Die die die die die diiiieeeeeee…….”

My niece was sleeping over at my parents’ house one night. She had all the lights on in the spare bedroom. I asked her if she was afraid of the dark, and she said, “No. I am afraid of what is in the dark.”

My 5-year old daughter said, “Mommy, when you die I want to put you in a glass jar so I can keep you and see you forever!” My 6-year old son laughed and replied, “That’s stupid. Where are you gonna find a jar that big?”

My 3-year old daughter was holding her newborn baby brother for the first time. She looked up at me and asked innocently, “So, I shouldn’t throw him in the fire?”

My sister was pregnant and we were having a conversation at the dining room table. My 4-year old son asked my sister if there was a baby in her belly. She told him there was. He slid out of his chair and headed for the kitchen, saying, “We need to get it out. I’ll go get the knife.”

When my son was little, I would sometimes hold him down and pretend to eat his face, saying, “nom nom nom.” One day, he said, “I’ll never eat your face, Mommy. I’ll cut it off and wear it as a mask…”

My 5-year old cousin drew a picture of a hideous, black monster. Then, she looked up at me and said, “He told me to draw this… He’s coming for you… You better hide…”

When I was about 3 years old, our cat had kittens, but they all died. I asked my father if we could make crosses for them, which he did. As he was making them I asked, “Aren’t those too small?”

Dad: “What do you Mean?”

Me: “Aren’t we going to nail them to them?”

(Several moments silence)

Dad: “we’re not going to do that”

My mom loves to tell this story: Apparently when I was 5 or 6, I told her that aliens had stolen her real son and replaced him with me, an exact copy. I said that someday, I would return to my home planet, but she shouldn’t be sad, because her real son was having a good life in our zoo.

My little cousin was thrown out of a Catholic preschool because he took off his shoe and told one of the nuns, “Shut up or I’ll take out your eye with my shoe, because I’m the son of the devil!” Apparently that was the last straw.

I was awoken from a deep sleep at around 6 AM. My 4-year old daughter was standing over me and her face was inches from mine. She looked right into my eyes and whispered, “I want to peel all your skin off”. For a few seconds I was terrified. In my sleep addled state, I didn’t know if I was dreaming or what was going on. Then, I realized what she was talking about. I had been sunburned the previous week and my skin was starting to peel.

My niece was sitting on the couch with a weird look on her face. I asked her what she was thinking about and she said, “I’m imagining the waves of blood rushing over me.” As it turns out, they had just come back from a local science museum. There was an exhibit on the circulatory system of blood in the human body.

My 3-year old son was telling me there was a man in his room. “Mommy,” he said. “The man has big yellow eyes and he is looking at you.” I tried to tell him there was no man and my son just told me, “Oh he is hiding now.” Two minutes later, he said, “Oh no Mommy, you made him very mad. Now he says he will come when you are sleeping.” Some time later, he told me, “I’m not going to be four. I’m doing to die and you will put me down, down, down in the hole.” I assured him that wasn’t true and asked who had told him that. He got very quiet and replied, “The man told me. But I will be scared, so after three nights you will die too and come with me.”

I was in the basement of my friend’s house with her 2-year old son. He took my hand, led me over to a brick chimney that had a rusty metal door on it and said, “That’s where the dead babies go…”

I was looking at houses with my brother and his 3-year old son. As we passed the school, the little boy said “If you buy a house here, that’s where your kids will go to school!” Then, we passed a pool and the little boy said, “And that’s where your kids will go to the pool!” Then, we passed a cemetery and he said, “And that’s where you’ll bury your kids!”

One night, when my daughter was 4, I overheard her talking in her room. I poked my head in and asked if she was talking to me. “No,” she replied. “I was talking to the little boy who lives in my closet… He’s dead.”

I jokingly asked my little cousin, “What’s the best way to get a girlfriend?” His response was, “Tell her to be my girlfriend or she’ll never see her parents again.”

One day, totally out of the blue, my 5-year old son said, “Before I was born here, I had a sister, right? Her and my other Mom are so old now. They were OK when the car was on fire, but I sure wasn’t!”

One day, my 3-year old son hugged my wife and said, very seriously, “Mom, I promise I won’t ever chew on your bones…”

My 5-year old daughter had night terrors and she would sometimes scream in her sleep. One night, I said “Mommy’s here. It’s OK.” She looked right at me and screamed, “Mommy? But who is that behind you?”

A few months ago, my 3-year old daughter was playing outside in our backyard. My wife was sitting on the back step and my daughter came up and asked her if she could play with the little girl on our slide. My wife said, “I don’t see any little girl” and my daughter said, “She’s right over there on the slide, Mom. Can’t I play with her?” My wife said, “I don’t see anyone” but my daughter kept insisting, “She’s on the slide and she is blue. Can I play with her?” My wife was freaked out said, “Let’s just go inside and get a snack.” For the rest of the day, my daughter kept looking out the back door, telling my wife that the little blue girl was lonely.

When my brother was very young, he was sleepwalking. My mom was trying to get him to go back to bed. He said, “I would, but the devil is behind you…”

One day, my 4-year old son said, “My brain is telling me to do things I don’t want to do.” I just hope his brain wasn’t telling him, “Burn them! Burn them all!”

As a child I would tell my parents daily that they were not my real parents and that my real parents died in a train accident. At first, they thought it was cute, but after a few months of this, they had to put a stop to my story.

Out of the blue, my 2-year old daughter said, “If you’re quiet you’ll stay alive.” I still have no clue where that came from.

My daughter and her friend were talking about dinosaurs. I asked her, “If you were a T-Rex, what would you eat?” She got very serious, looked me right in the eyes and said, “Children… I’d eat children.”

Last week, my 5-year old son asked me, “What do you see through the black circles in my eyes when you’re controlling me when I’m at school?”

My 5-year old son gave me a card he’d made at school. On the front, it said, “How you see yourself”. He had drawn a picture of me walking in a meadow. I was surrounded by blue skies, a blazing sun, green grass and butterflies. There was a big smile on my face. Inside, it said, “How you really are”. There was a picture of me in a jail cell, gripping the bars and crying.

I work in a preschool there is a small toy kitchen in our classroom that the kids use for playing house. There was one little girl who was playing with a baby

, rocking it back and forth and singing to it. Suddenly, she shoved it into the toy oven, slammed the door shut, turned to me and said, “Sometimes bad babies go in timeout!”

My mother told me that when I was a little girl, I saw some guy at the grocery store and started screaming and crying. It was so bad we had to leave and when we got back to the car, my mom asked what was wrong. I told her he took me away from my first mom and hid me under his floor and made me sleep for a long time until I woke up with my new mom. It totally freaked my mother out.

My daughter told me that there is a woman in her bedroom who watches her and sleeps on the ceiling above her bed. She also says the woman doesn’t like me and wants to eat my heart.

A few days after my dad passed away, my mother and I were awoken in the middle of the night by a furious banging noise. We went downstairs to find my little sister desperately trying to open the back door, yelling, “He wants back in! We have to let him back in!”

We had a small fire in the backyard and my baby cousin picked up a branch, lit it on fire and stared at it for a few minutes, muttering “burn…..burn….BURN!” Eventually, as the whole stick caught fire he started laughing maniacally and yelling in a deep demonic voice, “BUUURRRNNNNINNNGGGG! BUURRRNNNINGGGG! BUUURRRNNN!!!!” It was terrifying.

My mother told me that, when I was a child, I asked her what it was like to die. When she said she didn’t know, I told her not to worry because I’d find out when I was 21.

My aunt was very sick and my wife and I were talking about the cost of making arrangements for the funeral. Our 4-year old son walked in and said, “Why don’t you just set her on fire?” As it turned out, that’s how he thought cremation worked.

We were collecting my mother-in-law at the airport. While we were waiting, my husband picked up our son and joked about tossing him over the railing. On the way home in the car, our son spent the next 3 hours making a booklet titled, “All the Times My Dad Has Tried To Kill Me”. There were illustrations showing him in all sorts of peril, including being flushed down the toilet by my husband. My mother-in-law was horrified.

I was making dinner and my 5-year old niece casually walked through the kitchen and said, “I’ll get you, and I’ll make it look like a bloody accident”. It scared the heck out of me, but later I found out she was quoting a line from The Cat in the Hat.

I asked my 3 kids what they wanted to do when they grew up. My 10-year old said, “I want to be a teacher!” My 8-year old said, “I want to be a writer!” My 6-year old said, “I want to run the machine that cuts the heads off chickens!”

I was giving my 6-year old daughter a bath and she a couple of Barbies in the tub with her. One of the Barbies had no head. The head was floating in the water. I asked her to reattach the head because it was creepy. She responded, “Why Mom? It’s not REAL. If it was real, the bath would be full of blood, and THAT would be creepy…”

One night, I was reading my 3-year old niece a bedtime story and I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark and eerily silent. There was a nightlight on. I turned over and saw my niece. Her eyes were wide open and she was staring at me. Then, she whispered, “How did you get out of your box?”

I asked my nephew what he was drawing and he replied, “A skeleton-making machine”. On further inspection I saw that he hadn’t drawn a skeleton making machine but rather a flesh removal machine, complete with screaming naked men and a channel for the blood. Creepy.

My wife and I were giving our daughter a bath one night, when all of a sudden, she said, “You humans brought me here!” It took us four months to figure out that it was a line she heard in a movie.

Late one night, I was sitting at my friend’s kitchen table when her daughter walked into the kitchen and said, “Mommy, when I was older I crashed the car and died. Can I have something to drink?” My friend calmly gave her daughter a glass of milk and sent her off to bed. It gave me the chills, but my friend didn’t want to talk about it. She started crying and told me never to bring it up again.

When I was 6 years old, we moved house. I said my mother, “The lady who use to live here told me that she hates the wallpaper and you are covering up her note.” She just thought it was childish rambling and forgot all about it. Twelve years later, my mother was redecorating the house. She took down the wallpaper in the attic and found a suicide note scratched into the wall.

When my mother was pregnant, my little brother came into the room and pointed a nerf gun at her stomach. “Oh, no! Don’t shoot me!” my mom said playfully. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he replied. “I’m not trying to kill you, I’m just trying to kill the baby.”

A friend of mine brought her 3-year old son over to my apartment. I asked him what his favorite holiday was. He replied, “I like Halloween because I like candy and death!”

I was minding my own business, working in the garage when the door creaked open and my 2-year old son popped his head in and asked, “Daddy, are you dead yet?” I replied, “No…?” and then he just slowly closed the door.

I was at a friends house when his 4-year old cousin was getting ready to go to bed. He walked around, giving everyone a goodnight hug. I said to him, “Sweet dreams!” He stopped at the top of the stairs, turned around and with a very serious face said, “I’ll control your dreams and make them nightmares…”

My son was 4 and his sister was almost 2. I had to go to a meeting and I couldn’t read them a bedtime story. I promised I would read them two the following night to make up for it. My son said, “It’s ok, Mom, Auntie Tracy will read to us”. I felt the hairs go up on the back of my neck. “Who?” I asked. “Auntie Tracy, Mom,” he said. “She looks just like you. After we go to bed she reads and sings to us”. I had never told them that I was an identical twin and my sister died at birth. Her name was Tracy.

My wife was making a sandwich for our 4-year old son. He was watching her really intently and she asked what he was doing. He replied, “I’m watching you make a sandwich… so I know how to do it when you die.”

While I was cooking dinner one evening, my 4-year old daughter came in and wanted to help. “You’re not going to touch the stove, are you?” I asked. “No,” she replied. “Do you know why you shouldn’t touch the stove?” I asked. She looked at me and, in a very serious tone, replied, “Because I might get burned and die and then you’d have to eat me.”

I was blowing my nose into a tissue and my 6-year old daughter asked if she could see it. I said no and she responded with, “I promise I won’t eat it”.

#horror #horror community #creepy #creepy photo #scary kids #spooky #creepypasta #ghosts #ghost adventures #ghost stories #horrorkiller #horror kingdom #horror stories

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 4 years

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Three AM, Aching and Tender

A Jason Todd x reader oneshot

the title is a bit fucked, but my inspiration ran out, so here we are

warnings for a character getting triggered, and also SMUT

*edited because I added a tag and tumblr decided that meant it could delete the whole fucking post

***

Jason aches.

Aches. All over, everywhere. He aches, and he’s so, so tired. Standing in the dark hallway in front of his apartment door, he can almost feel the exhaustion enveloping him, a physical wave threatening to pull him under as he fights for lucidity. He’s got the achy sort of tired that comes from a mission, a deadening of senses that just spent hours of hyper-alert, of muscles that were overstretched and overused. Half his body seems to be twinging lightly, sending minor flashes of pain that glimmer faintly in his soup-slow brain that’s doing it’s damndest to focus up enough to unlock his fucking flat.

The weariness is so pronounced that he couldn’t be bothered to enter his apartment like a proper vigilante and had walked in the building’s front door. He isn’t too worried, it’s 3:15am and the streets outside are nearly deserted. Besides, Babs has alerts on all CCTV cameras two miles in every direction, she’d scrub the footage if any of them caught the Red Hood waltzing into a building like he lived there.

After digging through his pockets for a few seconds, Jason gets his keys out and unlocks his door, flicking on the living room light. He sets his rucksack on the floor by the kitchen island, running the zipper down and taking out the few sets of dirty clothes from the top of the bag, putting them aside to wash later. He’d packed light for the two-week job with Roy and Kory.

Frustration edges in on the exhaustion lightly fogging his mind as he thinks over the mission itself. The drug sting on Santa Prisca had taken out some major players, but on their way out Roy got hit by some trigger happy idiot. Jason and Kory had had to perform emergency first aid on the helicopter ride off the island. It was touch and go for a bit, but eventually they’d dug the bullets of out his shoulder and thigh, and Kory cauterized the wound with her powers. Jason was taping gauze over her handiwork not twenty minutes ago. Roy will end up with two new scars and nothing more, but it wasn’t exactly how Jason preferred to end his missions.

He sighs, trying to push the days’ events from his mind. Giving himself a shake, he starts stripping down, taking off his helmet and body armor and placing them on the countertop, a tarp he’d laid down keeping his kitchen clean. His guns and miscellaneous other weapons, knives and the occasional batarang, make their way onto the tarp as well. Once he’s down to his pants and undershirt he surveys the counter, wondering what he can get away with just wiping down with disinfectant and what he’s going to have to soak in bleach overnight. As he eyes a particularly grimy blade a noise makes his way out of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to guess at what it is, and sure enough you appear a moment later, wearing an overlarge t shirt and hair mussed from sleep.

He grunts in your direction, mood still black from Roy’s close call. “Hey. You didn’t have to get up.”

“S’okay.” You softly pad over and take a seat on one of the barstools ringing the island. Neither of you say anything for a bit, silence stretching comfortably as you watch him in that even way of yours while he cleans and puts away his gear.

It still makes him pause, seeing you in his kitchen like this. This isn’t the first time you’ve graced his apartment in the early morning hours, kitchen light flickering over your head. You’d stayed over a few times since Jason had started sort-of-dating you a month and a half ago. He had actually handed you the keys when he left for Santa Prisca, you had asked if you could crash at his place while your landlord fumigated your apartment. He knows you’ve been here for two weeks, and you seem comfortable enough in his space, but Jason doesn’t think he’ll get used to moments like these. To having you here, clock ticking low while you huddle up on his barstool, streetlights outside bouncing through the window and shining hazy light on your skin.

In the month and a half that he’s known you, you’ve proven soft and sweet. Can you really fit into the seedy grooves of his life? He’s admiring you while he cleans his fucking guns at three in the morning for chrissakes, do you really belong here? Stills of you in his apartment drift across his brain, he imagines you having breakfast here in the morning, cleaning your teeth in front of his bathroom mirror, laying in his bed with your head resting on his pillow. Can he really have you like this?

Six weeks since Tim introduced you, and Jason still feels uneasy with these moments of quietness stillness, of just being together. He likes spending time with you and he’s happy you’re seeing each other, but Jason feels like he’s missing a trick, here. Something isn’t right. Maybe that’s the problem, not whether you belong in his life at all. It’s that something’s out of place with the two of you, with your relationship, if he can call it that. You text back and forth often enough, you go on dates, you fuck, but something doesn’t sit well with him. Maybe it’s that, for all the time you spend together, neither of you have actually ponied up and admitted some real feelings. It’s almost as though you’re settling into a routine of a long relationship before you’ve put in any of the grunt work, before you’ve run the risk of being vulnerable with each other. The two of you are groping blindly in the dark, hoping the other person feels the same way but never reaching out to confirm it, only to be pleasantly surprised when you bump into each other, wordlessly. It’s setting his teeth on edge, because it’s pretty clear to him that he likes you, and quite a bit more than a lot. He’s not great with emotions, hasn’t been since the pit and even before that, but he’s getting the sense that this thing with you might be starting to brush up against something big. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“How’d the job go?” your voice is a murmur in the dim light. For all his misgivings about whether his life can fit someone like you, you’re still choosing to sit next to his vigilante gear with no comment. On your second date, you had dropped the bomb that you know about his nightlife, and for a split-second Jason had frozen, ready to wallop Tim for clueing you in, or at the very least ignore his calls for a few weeks. Before he could even open his mouth to deny it, you told him you’d figured it out from Tim’s schedule back in college. It didn’t take a genius to make the leap from Tim to Bruce Wayne and his brood.

Jason knows you’re hazy on the details about his death and then non-death, but he isn’t in any hurry to bring you up to speed. He’s quietly grateful that you haven’t pressed.

He sets a gun down, stifling a wince at the sight of blood on the muzzle. You know about his night gig and his methods, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing blood coating a deadly firearm. A quick glance in your direction reveals that you don’t seem disgusted or repelled at all. He’s not even sure you’ve noticed it, from where he stands it looks like you’re keeping your gaze on him. You’ve drawn your knee up to your chest and are resting your chin on it, eyes wide and open as you wrap your arms around your bent leg.

Jason takes a deep breath, thinking on how to answer your question about the mission. He wants to grunt his way out of this and into the shower so he can wash the day off him, but your sweet concern deserves at least a response. Squeezing his eyes shut, he says “the sting went okay, but on the way out Roy got hit in a few nasty places.” He hears you shift in your seat. “Oh no, is he alright?”

He starts to shrug a bit as he opens his eyes. “He’ll be okay, but performing emergency surgery while under fire was—”

The last word comes out clipped and awkward as Jason catches sight of the shirt you’re wearing. You’d brought your leg down to the chair, leaving your chest open. Now he can see the shirt properly, and his gut sinks as he realizes that it’s his, that it’s one of his old ones from before, one of the ones Dick gifted to him while he was still Robin, while he was still with Bruce. His body turns stiff as his eyes trace the faded Haley’s Circus logo. Jason remembers admiring it every time a teenage Dick Grayson wore it around the manor, remembers admiring the teenage Dick Grayson himself, and his throat goes tight. Memories of who Bruce used to be to him, of what he used to be to Bruce, flood his mind and he finds he aches in a different way, more urgent, as the past takes over.

“Jay?” you ask, and there’s no way you could have missed that, the way his body locked down. “Is everything okay?” You’re moving again, hands braced on the counter like you’re about to get up and go over to him, which is the last thing he wants right now.

He can feel old defense mechanisms whirring into place. “What are you wearing?” he says, voice curt, instead of answering.

“What?” You glance down at yourself. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to bring something to sleep in so I just—”

“Where did you get that shirt?” Somewhere in his brain Jason feels guilty for making you recoil like that, but it’s lost to the wash of anger that had welled up so suddenly.

“I—I found it in your drawer, I’m sor—”

“So you were snooping through my stuff?” What is he doing, what is he doing? He doesn’t care if you went through his fucking sock drawer, why can’t he stop lashing out at you? But he knows why.

“No, of course I wasn’t snooping, I… I just,” you’re stammering in confusion. “I didn’t know the shirt was…I can go change if you want?” you offer, trying to placate him.

Jason takes a deep breath, trying desperately to get back in control of himself. He thought he was past this, he thought he was past turning into a crazed jackass any time Bruce pre...pre-Death came up, but apparently not.

“Jay?” You say quietly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he abruptly turns around, facing his back to you. “Just,” he manages to grunt out, “just give me a second.” This isn’t their fault, he hisses in his brain, they don’t deserve his temper. Flailing about, he finally remembers a breathing exercise Dick taught him years ago. Breathe in one two three four out one two three four five. In one two three four, out one two three four five. After about a minute or two, he feels in control again.

“No,” he says out loud, turning around to face you again, anger leaving him in an exhale. “No, you don’t have to change.” The tired ache slowly creeps back in. “I’m sorry, doll, I shouldn’t’ve gotten angry at you, that wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay,” you say after a moment. Your shoulders don’t relax from where they’re bunched up around your neck, though, and Jason wants to kick himself.

“Seriously,” he says instead. “You’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who was wrong for shouting at you.” He needs to make it clear to you that he knows he was out of line, and that there hopefully won’t be a repeat performance of this. “It’s not even about you, it’s just…” He sighs. “Dick gave me that shirt, before. When I was, you know…”

“Still with Bruce,” you supply for him. That was much nicer than ‘When I was still on life number one,’ which is what Jason had been thinking. “Oh, Jay, I’m so sorry, if I had known…” and the compassion in your gaze is so bright he almost wants to take a step back. “You couldn’t’ve,” he says instead, because of course it wasn’t your fault. “It just took me by surprise, is all.”

You nod. “I understand.” And you don’t, not really, but he appreciates the effort. "I can try to be more...aware of stuff like that, in the future."

And Jason wants to say 'don't worry about it,' but what comes out instead is "thank you."

After a few moments of silence, Jason picks up the dirty gun and gets back to work, glancing at you worriedly every few moments. Your eyes follow him for a while, bright and sharp, but eventually you stretch your arms over your head and leave the chair. Jason expects you to go back to bed, and half wonders whether he should offer to take the couch, especially after what just happened, but instead you step into the living room and sit on the sofa, legs stretched out over his coffee table.

Jason cleans and stows the rest of his gear, washes his hands, and wipes down the countertop for good measure before collapsing onto the couch next to you. You turn your head to look at him. Your hackles are still up, and Jason feels sick with himself. “Are you sure you’re okay, doll?” He asks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s okay, I promise.” You flash him a smile, quick and dry, but he notices some of the tension leave you. “So I, um,” you clear your throat, eyes darting away from his. “I really missed you, while you were away.” You hold his gaze then, drawing your lower lip into your mouth, which always drives him a little crazy.

He’s bad at this feelings stuff, he knows he is, which is why he surprises himself when the words “I really missed you, too,” roll off his tongue, easy as anything.

Your lips curve into another smile, syrup-slow this time. He’s momentarily stunned, and when you bring that smile closer to him and peck him on the lips, he has to remind himself to kiss back.

Jason thinks you’ll stop after a minute, and it surprises him when you don’t. Instead, you let a soft sight escape and tilt your head for a better angle, licking sweet into this mouth. He’s not complaining, Jason loves kissing you, so he follows your lead and brings a hand to your waist. You hum when he does, and press yourself closer to him, almost climbing into his lap. Jason’s never been one to miss an opportunity, so he grabs you by the hips and pulls you squarely onto his thighs.

The movement startles you enough that you break from his lips, panting slightly as you reorient yourself. “Hi,” you say, still catching your breath. “Hi,” he answers, then surges up slightly to kiss you again. It’s filthier this time, your breath coming fast as you wind your arms around his neck and start running your fingers through his hair. Jason loves it when you do this, loves feeling your small hands make their way over his scalp. Any remaining tiredness flees in the face of his slow-building arousal. How can he be tired when he’s got your ass in both hands?

When he squeezes lightly you exhale into his mouth and roll your hips against his. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs in your ear, smiling against it. “Don’t worry, I know how to make you feel good.”

Your triumphant smile catches him off-guard. “I know you do, baby,” you purr, placing your lips at the juncture of his neck.

His instincts ping lightly. You’re grinning like you’ve won something, or something has gone right. Jason thinks for a second, remembering your soft, too-innocent step out of the bedroom, hair perfectly out of place, at almost the exact moment he came home. This setup seems too good to be true, or at least unplanned. He reaches under your borrowed shirt and confirms his suspicions: you’re not wearing any underwear.

“You were after this the whole time, weren’t you?” You pull back and oh, your grin is wicked, lips cherry-red and glistening. In retaliation, Jason snakes a hand up your chest and pinches your left nipple, lightning-fast. The soft “oh!” you make in surprise is entirely worth it.

“This whole time, you just wanted to get in my pants?”

“Guilty.” There’s a smirk in your voice as you roll your hips again. “You don’t sound too upset about it,” you tease, and you must feel his hardening cock through his pants.

He’s not upset, but he can’t resist the opportunity to tease you a bit more. “That’s what the shirt was about, wasn’t it?” God, it’s so hard to make fun of you when you’re squirming in his lap. “You were trying to do that thing where you wear someone else’s clothing and they find it really sexy and all?”

You slow down there, stop rolling your hips. Shame coats your face as you direct your eyes at the floor. “Jay, I’m so sorry.”

Your shame doesn’t belong here, and Jason’s quick to ease it away. “It’s okay, doll.” He tugs the offending shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the side. “Besides, I happen to prefer you like this.”

You’re a sight to see. Completely naked, sitting pretty on his lap, and fixing him with a look he finds almost challenging. He wants to wipe it off, so he brings his left hand back to your breast, and this time his palm meets skin.

Your eyes flutter shut. “You ‘happen to prefer me like this,’ hmm?” you murmur, arching your back into his grip. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, I think you can,” Jason says slyly, but you’re not listening, you’re too wrapped up in what his hands are up to. He loves it, loves touching you and knowing it’s driving you wild, so he gets his forefinger and thumb around your nipple and pinches lightly, how you like it. He looks up to see your eyes still shut. “Aren’t even looking at me, huh, princess? Can’t even look at me when I’m giving you what you want?” He mock sighs. “Is this it, then, you manipulate me into getting you off but then can’t even look at me while I’m touching you?”

You open your eyes and huff at him. “Yes, Jay, that’s it.”

He grins, and keeps going. “Is it that I’m piss ugly? That’s it, isn’t it, you don’t want to look at my fuck-ugly face?”

“I wish your fuck-ugly mouth would shut up,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Jason moves his hand back to your waist, and you pout at him. It looks so attractive on you.

“C’mon, Jay.” You yank at his hair. “You know you’re stupid hot,” and you’re right, he does know, but some of his scars are ugly and they tend to itch. But you know that, which is why your face softens. “You’re stupid hot, and it’s very distracting. Just shut up and kiss me, you’re being annoying.”

“Okay,” he says, easy, but instead of going for your lips he licks a stripe up your breast and closes his lips around your nipple, the right one this time. Your breath leaves you in a rush, and Jason thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, but then your breathing comes back online a moment later. It’s punch-drunk and delicious, and gets to him in the best way. His cock is becoming harder and harder to ignore. A few seconds later and you’re making these small moans that are almost obscene, so he stays right where he is, with his hands alternating between giving your ass more attention and running up and down your back.

“Fuck, Jay,” you pant, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “Knew it, knew you would make me feel so good.”

Something occurs to him, and he sucks lightly one last time before pulling back and licking his lips. “Did you touch yourself, doll? While I was gone? Did you make yourself come?”

He has his answer when you look down and bite your lip again. “No, I, um,” and the innocent act you’re pulling is completely ruined by the small smile you’re fighting to keep off your face, but Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. “I wanted you to do it, so I saved it for you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Your words go straight to his groin. The only thing he can think to do is to roll his hips against yours. You meet him there, moving torturously slow against the blunt head of his cock that’s now painful against his zipper. That bit of pain makes it so, so good, and for a few minutes he just moves with you, enjoying the feel of your body against his. Soon, you start talking again. “Jay, Jason, please, touch me,” you beg, your voice going tight as he rolls his hips.

“Where? You have to tell me where, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You stay silent for a few seconds, and then—

“My cunt. My cunt, Jay, and my clit, please.”

You never talk like that, ever, and the filth coming out of your mouth sends electricity crackling through his brain. He immediately stands up, taking you with him. You shriek a bit at being suddenly airborne, then crowd even closer to his chest and start sucking a hickey on his neck. Thoughts hazy, Jason makes for his bedroom and deposits you on his bed.

You quickly collect yourself, stretching out and preening on his rumpled sheets. Jason decides he needs to be naked immediately, and busies himself shucking off his pants and underwear and tearing off his shirt. When he looks at you again, night air cool against his skin, he sees your hand moving between your legs.

Quick as a flash, he darts onto the bed, grabbing your hand with one of his own and placing himself squarely between your thighs. “No, no,” he chides you, pressing your hand into the mattress above your head. “Come on, doll, you’ve waited this long. Let me.” And he brings his free hand to your crotch, finding your clit and rubbing the pad of his index finger against it.

“God, finally,” you hiss, bucking your hips against his hand. He chuckles at that. “Love how impatient you are, love how slick your pussy is.”

You look him in the eye, then. “For you, Jay.”

Well, hell's bells.“For me,” he agrees, then neatly slides his index finger into you. “Ngh--!” He smiles at the aborted sound you make. Jason spends a few minutes here, moving his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you’re shivering under his touch. Eventually, your voice stops him.

“Fuck me, Jay,” you plead. “Fuck me with your cock.”

He growls, then reaches for his bedside table. Yanking open the drawer, he fishes out a condom, then backs up to open it and roll it on. When he looks back at you he sees your eyes are wide. “You sure you want to do this?” He asks, just to check in.

You nod, then scoot back so you’re flush against the pillows, laying flat on the bed. He moves back over you, coming to rest between your thighs again, one hand on the wall above the bed for support. You gasp as he slowly pushes into you, a bit at a time. “This okay?” He asks.

“No,” you say shortly, and then you hook your legs around his waist and drag yourself toward him, taking him inside entirely. He narrowly misses biting his own tongue as sparks fly behind his eyes. “Go faster,” you order him.

Jason looks down at you. “You’re six different kinds of crazy, doll,” he says, but he smiles in spite of himself, heeds you and starts thrusting, pulling out of you a bit only to fill you again as his hips snap against yours. “You like it,” you say. He can’t believe how good you feel, how tight you are around him.

“Yeah, I do.” And of course he does.

The two of you spend a few minutes trying to match each other’s pace, hips stuttering in the face of your fragmented concentration. Eventually, though, you’re moving together again, and every time you meet one of his strokes you start to make a low sound in the back of your throat. Jason a;ways makes sure to keep his eyes open when you're fucking, and he's had them trained on you from the start. He loves how you look stretched out below him, how your breasts jump lightly when he fucks into you, how your mouth is shaped into a perfect o with lust. It’s a heady feeling, knowing he can do this to you, and he feels almost drunk with it.

Not that the lust and desire is at all one-sided. Suddenly, your muscles squeeze tight around his cock and he almost loses his mind. Before he starts to go completely he reaches a hand between you and starts rubbing at your clit.

“Ah-ah!” you shout, hands moving to his shoulders. He barely registers the feeling of your fingernails biting into his skin, all he can think about is how good you feel and how he can make you feel good. He starts swiping a thumb across your clit every time his hips slam against yours, and the string of swear words you let out in response is delicious.

“Ff-fuck. Fuck, Jay, I’m going to come,” and suddenly you do, face scrunching up below him as you ride the crest of your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him, and Jason thrusts once more, twice, three times, and then he follows you blissfully over the edge. For a few moments, the two of you keep still, panting together and staring sightlessly into the dark as you wait for the waves of pleasure to subside enough for you to surface. Eventually, Jason wakes up and out of himself to the feeling of you planting a kiss on his lips. He gives himself a shake, then kisses back eagerly. It’s sloppy, but you don’t seem to mind, pulling back after a few seconds to sigh contentedly. “Well,” you say, dragging your arms down his shoulders, “that was nice.”

“You’re being stingy, doll,” Jason berates you lightly, pulling out of you and removing the condom. “That was a few levels beyond ‘nice.’” He ties off the condom and drops it neatly in the trash, before rejoining you on his bed and pulling you to his chest. You waste no time snuggling against him, fitting your head into the hollow of his neck.

Jason feels brave, so he says “I’m really glad you’re here,” before dropping a light kiss to your hair.

You reach up to stroke along his forearm where it rests on your chest. “I’m really glad I’m here too. And, um, I’m really glad we’re together.” You tilt your head up at that, shy eyes peering up to gauge his reaction. It’s almost too easy to meet you halfway. “I am, too.” A beat, and then “does this mean I’m calling you my girlfriend now?”

You smile pleasantly at the ceiling. “I like that.” And Jason does, too.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #batboys #batboys x reader #DC imagines #smut #jason todd x reader smut #dc comics #dc #dc comics imagine #kira writes

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23 | AO3 link

“Wait, really?” Marinette’s mouth droops. “But he promised you could come to the concert!”

“I know he did,” Adrien’s voice says rather bitterly through the phone. “Apparently, I’m not good enough for him.”

“That’s rubbish!” If Marinette’s hands weren’t occupied with her phone and a cardboard box, she’d either be crossing her arms firmly or tugging on the hair that she’s left loose around her face today. “You’re a better pianist than half the people our age put together!”

“To be fair, I’d probably be better if I’d stop playing recordings to pretend I’m practicing while I actually go see – uh, go and do other things.”

Marinette snorts. “You sure you can’t sneak out? Put your foot down? It just won’t be the same without you here.”

“I would if I could. I’m sure Gorilla would cover for me if I asked, but there’s no getting past Nathalie. And she wouldn’t cover for me this time. She saw how annoyed Father was at my performance. Even if I could sneak out through my window, he’d know where I went, so there’d be no point. I wouldn’t want him to ruin your concert.”

“I’m sorry, Adrien. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, well…I’d better go practice. Maybe if I’m up to his standards, he’ll let me come near the end. Better than nothing, right? And I was really looking forward to seeing Luka.”

“Luka? Who?”

“Juleka’s brother.”

Marinette blinks. “Juleka has a brother?”

“That was my reaction too,” Adrien says. “But he saved me and Kagami when we snuck out of fencing the other day and nearly got mobbed.”

“I’m not sure why they think chasing you down and demanding you marry them will make you want to do that,” Marinette snorts. “Anyway, good luck with your piano. I know you’ll smash it!”

“Don’t tempt me,” Adrien jokes. “Have fun, Marinette.”

“I will.”

The line goes dead a moment later. Marinette sighs and pockets her phone.

“Cap’n Anarka speakin’ to ya!” announces a rough woman’s voice. Marinette whirls around to see Juleka’s mother standing next to Rose with her hands on her hips, making Rose jump while adjusting the microphone stand with her sudden appearance. “So, how’s it comin’ along, me young pirates? Ready to celebrate the –”

Marinette gulps when Anarka’s blue eyes narrow at her. The older woman adjusts her red glasses before striding straight over to Marinette.

“Whatcha up to there, lady?” she says, snatching the box from Marinette. When Marinette explains that she’s cleaning the houseboat for the concert, Anarka laughs long and loud and then starts scattering the contents of the box everywhere on deck. “We never pick up in this house! Didn’t me daughter tell ya? We love the lived-in look! We have no rules on the Liberty! Out of chaos comes creation! Messiness is life!”

Huh. Maybe that’s why Marinette’s a hot artistic mess. With a smile, she heads with Alya and Nino into the steering room for a few minutes of quiet while Rose, Juleka, Mylène, and Ivan continue their loud preparations outside.

“Dude, don’t tell me Adrien’s dad put him on lockdown again,” Nino complains while Marinette rifles through a box on a shelf. She grimaces when a layer of dust billows out and coats her pink wrap-around top, white T-shirt, and blue jeans

“Afraid so,” she says, frowning as she pulls out a strange metal statue of a hand with its index and pinky fingers out. Nino groans.

“Bummer. I was lookin’ forward to hanging out with him for once.”

“We all were,” Alya says. “Man, and I thought my older sister was overprotective.” She takes the statue from Marinette, squints at it, then dumps it on the compass. “Wow, that’s creepy. I see where Juleka gets it from.”

“Juleka’s not creepy!” Marinette says. “She’s just…quietly punk.” When she reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, her bracelet gleams in the sunlight, and her eyes are irresistibly drawn to it as it brings back the vivid memory of Chat Noir and his confession to her on her birthday over two weeks ago. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’s got strong feelings for him, but she also hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’s not completely sure of their nature yet, although she’d be deceiving herself if she insisted that they were definitely not romantic.

And yet…she can’t get Chat Noir’s confession out of her head. The thought of him is enough to send tingles down her skin and butterflies through her stomach, but what if this is just a rebound thing? The only downside about romance built on friendship is that if the romance goes sour, what if the friendship does too? And she’ll be damned if she loses Chat Noir’s friendship, especially after all the nights they’ve spent together being utter dorks.

And none of this would have happened if not for André. She never would’ve had that conversation with Chat Noir when he came to comfort her. He never would’ve tried to start moving on from Ladybug and fallen for her instead. Heck, he probably wouldn’t even have been as cool as he was on her birthday.

What if…André’s ice cream hadn’t been referring to Adrien, but rather to Chat Noir? After all, Chat Noir’s lips are also peach pink – not that she’s been thinking about them, ha, not at all – and his hair and eyes are also gold and mint green. In that case, is André’s ice cream really magical? Had he really been predicting her soulmate?

“Oh, ho ho, sailors!” Anarka once again appears out of nowhere, this time to snatch the statue off the compass as Marinette and Alya jump and clutch their chests. “Never put a metal object next to a compass! Ya hear, lass? Metal attracts the needle just like a magnet, which is why ya can’t get ‘em anywhere near each other.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a deep literary metaphor in there somewhere,” Alya says sarcastically. Marinette and Nino conceal their laughter behind their hands.

“We’re ready, captain!” Rose salutes from the foot of the stairs, Juleka just behind her. Marinette can’t help but smile at what a cute couple they make. “Uh…but Luka’s missing!”

Anarka squints at Marinette. “Marinette, right? Since you’re free from yer cleanin’ duties, could ya go and tell Luka that we’re waitin’ for him to start rehearsals?”

“Of course!” Marinette says, then frowns. “But, uh…where is he?”

“In his cabin, of course!”

It’s a treacherous journey through the living room of the houseboat, what with the various musical items and other items scattered all over the floor. But there’s something comforting and warm about the mess; something that invites you to come in and revel in it. Marinette shrieks and jumps when she slips through a doorway and comes face-to-face with a boy sitting cross-legged on a bed, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his knees. Between his thumbs and index fingers are two black guitar picks, which make a lot more sense when Marinette catches sight of the black guitar next to him.

She jumps again when she realises that he’s opened his eyes and is staring straight at her with a smile. His eyes are the same shade of blue as his mother’s, also matching the teal tips of his black hair, and he’s wearing ripped black jeans and a short-sleeved blue jacket over a white Jagged Stone shirt.

Holy crap. He’s gorgeous.

“Hey!” Marinette blurts out. “My name’s Mama – Ma-Ma-Marinette!” Oh god, she’s stammering again. Why is this her life? She takes a deep breath to compose herself and pushes on. “Your mum sent me down here. The groove – ah, the group’s waiting for you.”

“Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” the boy – Luka – says in a cool voice, then snickers behind his hand. Marinette’s heart drops. Great. He’s gorgeous, but he’s also a jerk. This is really Juleka’s brother? Her feelings must be painted across her face, because Luka’s smile vanishes, and he adds, “Sorry. I tend to make more sense with this.”

He pats the bed next to him. Marinette accepts the invitation, while he slings his guitar around his neck and then strums a few chords.

“That’s strange.” Luka frowns at her. “It seems you have something like this in your heart.” He plays a short tune, rising and falling in pitch, somehow exactly matching the utter chaos that’s currently got Marinette’s heart in a vice grip. She closes her eyes and rests a hand on her heart, losing herself in the sweet melody, and it takes a moment for her brain to register that Luka’s stopped playing.

“How do you do that?” she says in awe. Luka smiles at her when she opens her eyes.

“Music is often simpler than words,” is all he says. Marinette hums and jumps up to get a closer look at the pick collection underneath his Jagged Stone poster. Her eyes are drawn to a pick with Jagged Stone’s face, which she grabs so that she can get a closer look.

“You like Jagged Stone?” she says.

“He’s my favourite singer.” Luka slides off the bed to stand next to her.

“Mine too!”

Luka’s smile widens, and he looks at the pick in her hand. “You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”

“Thanks!”

“I think I’d better go and join the… “groove” you said,” Luka says, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Marinette whines and facepalms.

“Did I really –? Oh no! At least Adrien wasn’t here to see that. He’d never let me live it down, the dork.”

“Adrien?” Luka tilts his head. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s one of my best friends. You’re the guy who saved him from being mobbed, right?”

Luka nods. “He wasn’t ready for a child just yet.”

“Uh…what?”

“An inside joke. One of his fans was screaming for him to have her babies.”

Marinette shudders. “Ick. I can’t believe I used to be like that.”

“That’s not the impression I get.” Luka plays a few oxymoronic notes, somehow both chaotic and gentle. “You have a passionate heart. You just struggle with your chaotic brain. You’re not the kind of person to behave like that.”

“Seriously, how do you do that?” Marinette complains as blood rushes to pool in her cheeks and stomach.

“Just like I told Adrien, I can hear people’s heart songs,” Luka says. Whoa. Seriously? That’s…how is that possible? “And just like I told Adrien, I talk to Juleka. You’re a funny girl, Marinette.”

With that, Luka heads out of the room, leaving Marinette scrambling to catch up so that she’s not left all alone with her whirling thoughts because nope, nope, this is not happening. Although what happens only minutes later is enough to push all thoughts of Luka from her mind, when Anarka is reprimanded by Roger Raincomprix for pretty much blowing the sound barrier with Kitty Section and their instruments. Apparently, Hawkmoth doesn’t take a day off, because Marinette can’t even enjoy a music festival with her friends without him being a bastard and akumatising someone. Before anyone can so much as blink, Anarka has became the pirate Captain Hardrock, with a sentient ship totally under her control that chains up Marinette and her friends when they try to reason with Captain Hardrock and point out that maybe Roger had a point about the volume.

“Ow!” Rose cries when her head knocks against the wood. Groaning, Marinette struggles to sit up, pushing back against Luka to as a counterweight; thankfully, he catches on and adds his force to the equation to help them sit up. Around them, the other bound pairs are doing the same.

“Well,” Alya says when they’ve all rolled to a stop in the ship’s hold. “That was fun. Now what?”

“I guess we wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Nino says. Marinette’s eyes dart down to her purse, not that that’ll do much good since she can’t very well transform in front of a bunch of people, especially someone she’s only just met. Luckily, Tikki’s skills extend beyond magical transformations, as she’s able to zip out of the purse and phase through the padlock securing the chains around Marinette and Luka.

“Wow!” Luka exclaims when their chains fall away. “How’d you do that?”

Marinette freezes and fumbles for an explanation. She dips her hand into her purse to make sure that Tikki’s back inside, and her fingers close around the pick that Luka had given her. Perfect! “Uh…with this!” she says, showing him the pick. Luka smiles as he climbs to his feet.

“You’re a real magician, Marinette,” he says, helping her up. Marinette scoffs.

“Oh, it was nothing! Just – you know –” Her face grows warm under Luka’s awestruck gaze.

“Ahem.” Alya clears her throat. “When you’re quite ready?”

But before Marinette and Luka can work on freeing the others, Captain Hardrock comes stomping down the stairs. With a hasty apology, Marinette and Luka sprint through the door behind them and secure it shut with Luka’s guitar, and while this isn’t enough to keep Captain Hardrock out, it buys them enough time to get the window open. Luka immediately pushes Marinette towards the bed and points at the slim but long drawer built into the base. Catching on, she races over and shuts herself inside, and not a moment too soon.

“Run, Marinette! Quick!” Luka calls when the door smashes open. Marinette’s heart leaps into her throat at Luka’s pained cry when Captain Hardrock’s chains capture him again, but his sacrifice works; Captain Hardrock storms out of the room a moment later, clearly under the impression that Marinette had escaped through the window, dragging Luka with her judging by the scraping sound that accompanies her.

“Phew! That was close!” Tikki says when Marinette pushes the drawer back open and clambers out.

“I have to save my friends!” Marinette clenches her fists. “Tikki, spots on!”

Chat Noir’s already arrived when Ladybug finally manages to sneak up to the deck. Although the battle against Captain Hardrock and the Liberty is fairly straightforward as far as akuma fights go, it’s made far more difficult by the fact that Ladybug’s got a constant chanting of don’t flirt with the cat in her head to keep her on track because if Ladybug is one thing, it’s not a hypocrite. She can’t exactly flirt with Chat Noir after lecturing him about inappropriate timing in the wake of Green Giant, especially since he doesn’t even know that it’s her civilian form that he’s caught feelings for and vice versa.

With the help of the metal clasp of her Lucky Charm chain and Chat Noir, they chain Captain Hardrock to the ship’s compass and, just like when Alya had put the statue on top of it, the compass goes haywire around the clasp. This time, though, the entire ship is affected by the compass going out of control, and they manage to steer the ship up one of the slopes on the bank of the Seine and crash-land on a patch of grass. With the ship out of commission and the prisoners in the hull no longer in danger, it’s a simple matter for Chat Noir to Cataclysm the compass and disintegrate the ship, freeing the akuma for Ladybug to purify.

Pity, though, that Chat Noir has to book it as soon as Captain Hardrock turns back into Anarka. Ladybug wouldn’t have minded a bit of post-battle banter with him, along with asking what was up with him earlier. But really, it’s probably for the best for her headspace, considering that she’s only ninety-nine percent sure that she wants to be with him and it’s that one percent that’s shrieking inside her skull that she’s going to mess everything up.

“You okay, girl?” Alya says when Ladybug’s detransformed and re-joined everyone as Marinette.

“Uh huh,” Marinette mumbles. Alya raises an eyebrow but she thankfully doesn’t push the issue.

An hour or so later, while Kitty Section is still rehearsing for the music festival, they’re pleasantly surprised by a familiar face boarding the houseboat, waving and beaming at everyone.

“Adrien! Hi!” Marinette bounces on the spot and waves. Adrien’s face lights up and he waves back, then immediately trips and sends a long, thin black case flying, and Marinette can’t help the flutters inside her and the giggle that escapes her at what a dork he is.

“Adrien!” Nino runs over to help Adrien sit up. “You okay, bro?”

“Nah, it’s all good, I –” Adrien pauses rubbing his head to open the case he’d knocked over, revealing a keyboard inside. “Whoa, an original ZX20.4? I love the sound of this instrument!”

“Aww, that old thing?” Anarka scoffs. “No one knows how to play it.”

“I know how to play it,” Adrien says.

“Great.” Luka holds out a hand to help Adrien to his feet. “Welcome to the band, Adrien.”

Adrien beams. “Really? Thanks, Luka!”

Luka and Adrien still haven’t let go of the other’s hand. An odd look passes between them, making Marinette squint, until Adrien catches sight of her and quickly lets go of Luka’s hand.

“Looks like I could make it after all!” Adrien says to her. Marinette grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

“Your dad caved in?” she says. Adrien shrugs.

“Yeah. I think I impressed him enough.”

“Can’t wait to see how you impress us, then,” Luka says. Adrien jumps, his cheeks pinkening, and Marinette raises her eyebrows and bites her lip when Luka smiles and winks at him as well as her.

Well. One thing’s for sure: the future’s going to be very, very interesting.

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dickmedownmendess · 5 years

Text

His Lucky Charm

I’ve never done an imagine so I’m just taking a stab at it. I’ve really taken a liken to Baby Brash™ so I figured why the hell not, I’m just going to write an imagine about loving on him and see where it takes me.

Connor x Reader

Summary; when the going gets tough, the tough get going...or snuggle with their girlfriend to make it better.

Warnings; fluff (as fluffy as I can make it), maybe a tad bit of smut (because i'm a freaky girl *wink wink*) & minor cursing

Words; 3.1k

I do not own this photo.*

To express the day Connor was having into a couple of words would be: a Monday. From the start of his day he was rushing, because his alarm didn’t go off since it died—as a result of falling asleep on FaceTime with you—so he skipped out on breakfast to accommodate with the schedule. Haven been on the tour with Shawn for quite sometime now, he was accustomed to Shawn’s busy agenda. However, today he just couldn’t fall into pace with what was going on.

The gym they went to was fairly pack, and all he wanted to do was jog a little, but everyone decided cardio was their main focus, leaving only free treadmill available, and it didn’t even work properly. At the time, to take the edge off of his rising blood pressure—and growling stomach—he ordered a smoothie. It was terrible. And as if the morning couldn’t get any worse, he left his phone at the hotel to let it charge. The morning felt like a full day alone, as he awaited his team members and Shawn to finish lifting.

The rainy afternoon brought a small amount of better luck, his phone had enough juice that he could talk to you. His first message being;

Brashy: I’m tired of this fucking day. I need you back.

You were immediately enlightened to the kind of day he was having. Also answering why he took so long to text you. (Not that you were upset, he just had a routine of sending you a good morning text at the same time every single day since you two have been dating).

Babygirl; aww B, stay strong, it’ll get better. You need a booty pic to take the pain away?

He knew your sense of humor, so the likelihood of getting an actual ass pic was slim (although he actually could use one), but it was still soothing to him that you knew how to put a smile on his face during troubling times. It did make the rainy day relatively more gloomier, his desire to be snuggled with you in a comfortable bed, listening to the rain, and music—it was strong enough to have him calling quits on this tour, but that was just his crazy mind-talk.

While out for lunch with Shawn and the crew, the waitress served everyone’s food, placing a plate in front of him, he looked at it confusingly. “I, um,” he stammers glancing over at Shawn who was equally confused as to what they gave him, “I didn’t order this ma’am.” He politely informs, handing the plate back to her. She was extremely apologetic, and reassuring that they would get his correct order out straight away. He tried his best not to look frustrated, but his patience was wearing thin.

“You’re just having one of those days, aye?” Shawn questions after noticing the annoyance that unconsciously displayed on his blemishless face. He had witnessed all the mishaps that came at the young photographer.

Sighing heavily, Connor rolls his eyes, “you have no idea. It’s like if it’s not one thing, it’s another.” He mutters.

“Well be glad there’s no concert today, so after this we’ll have one more meeting and you’ll be free as a bird to go hide in a box before any more bad things happen to you.” Shawn teases earning a nudge from Connor.

Connor finally received what he ordered, and as he expected, it wasn’t good. He still ate it however, not wanting to go into the last meeting hungry since he overheard Andrew saying it would be a longer one.

“To kill two birds with one stone, we’re deliberating on the documentary progress, and plans for the next leg of the tour.” Shawn told him as they traveled to the building.

The meeting was a little delayed since they had to wait on men they are partnering with to produce the documentary. Connor’s knee bounced in anticipation, his fingers tapping on the wooden table. He was mostly fidgety because he was freezing, with the combination of rain that got on him and the cold air conditioned room, and the lack of extra layers he wore—it was the middle of summer, he dressed according to the season—he was inconveniently underdressed. But as time went by his shirt dried, and his body adjusted to the climate. The meeting was going smoothly, to his dismay. He had earned a few compliments for his excellent videography, and he hadn’t made any mistakes, or caused any accidents as the men talked amongst the large round table. His hopeful thinking was thought about too, however, because as soon as the time to review the documentary he was producing came up, the lack of good luck he was having refreshed his memory. It took an IT technician, and fifteen added minutes—to an already prolonged meeting—to get the video working, but ultimately they were able to watch, discuss and critique what changes should be made. Ending the meeting to everybody’s relief. Especially Connor’s.

“Hey Con, we’re going to change and go to a club here in town. You tagging along?” Shawn asked on their way out of the conference room. Connor glances down at his silent phone, a trace of concern rising since he hadn’t gotten a single notification from you.

“Nah, I’m going to sit this one out and check in on y/n.” He ensures with a soft smile.

Shawn purses his lips, giving a cheeky grin, “aw, young love. You gotta love it man.” Connor pushes off his mockery, but the burn in his cheeks only intensifies the tall singer’s notions as he messes with him all the way to the truck.

On the way to the hotel Connor checks his social media in hopes of finding you on there doing something that would justify why you haven’t replied to any of his messages. He wouldn’t usually obsess over your whereabouts, trying to keep an open mind that you are as equally busy as he is. But today was just a tough day that required your attention a lot more than what he was receiving. This was also the first time that he had spent more than a week away from you, seeing as you had came on the tour with him for the first couple of weeks, but you had to return home for summer classes.

The downpour had intensified since the meeting resulting in Connor’s entire body getting drenched on his way into the hotel. The exhaustion weighed heavy in his limbs, with the amount of misfortune he dealt with in one day, he felt like he ran a marathon. His only request at this point was to hear your voice, take the dripping clothes off, and try again tomorrow.

As he made his way to his room, he could hear the muffled sound of music being played inside. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he glanced to the other unbothered guys entering their own rooms in a hurry to get out of their wet clothes. Shawn and Brian were the only ones who stopped briefly to flash him their goofy smiles.

His breath hollowed out as he quietly pushed the door open, the sound of the vinyl player increasing from across the room. A smile spread across his lips immediately as he closes the door without disrupting you. His heart fluttered as he took you in where he stood in the entrance. A t-shirt of his adorned your torso, stopping just short enough that your butt was peaking out, and your legs were bare extended up in the air, crossed at the ankles. You lay on your stomach, your eyes cast down at the book, scanning intently across the pages, engulfed into the text.

Clear of disturbing the peace, he slips off his shoes, his cold, wet socks squishing across the ground as he peels out of his shirt. Before goes to interrupt you his photographer-sensors go off, knowing he has to capture the palatable moment on his phone.

You were far too deep into the world of literature to detect his presence, until the warmth of his body weighs into your backside. Your body twitches under him in surprise, before you breathed out a muffled laugh into the book your head was pressed into.

“Hi precious.” You mumble, your laugh growing as his fiery kiss heated the side of your neck, shoulder, ear...everywhere. You felt acutely ridiculous for how excited your body was reacting in his grasp, as though you weren’t being held by him not even a full week ago-as it seemed.

He lifts his face from your neck to a breath, “hi baby.” He whispers close to your ear. You take the time he breaks away to turn your head, peering at him from your peripheral. The grey sky illuminating light from the drawn back curtains, splashed over his marvelous features. You loved what you saw even in your strained view. He lays his hands on either side of your head to hoist himself up so you could spin into a more comfortable position underneath him.

His jean clad legs itched atop yours, the wetness you felt from them diverted your attention away from his warm lips pressing into yours.

“Mm-Connor.” You mumbled under his velvet lips. He ignores you, positioning himself so he had even more access to your mouth that he so deliciously worked on, tongue playing with yours strategically. You couldn’t deny the very-missed kiss was pulling your attention away from his wet jeans, but as he pressed his erection directly at your core, which was only covered by the skimpy panties, your attention was back on the minor issue.

You gasp into his mouth, grabbing his cheeks and pushing his face back. “Connor David.” You exhale, laughter lacing your words.

His cheeks are red, and his eyes vivid even in the dimly lit room. “What babe.” He says almost impatiently, but in a soft tone.

“Your jeans are cold as fuck, and itching me.” You giggle, rubbing your hands across his wet jean clad butt, he moves away from your touch also snickering.

Removing himself from off of you, your body shivers at the discard of his warmth. He tugs the belt, keeping his eyes steady on you, you smirk scooting back on the bed until your back is against the headboard. You watch intently. Admiring every ounce of your boyfriend.

“Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again.” He demands gently.

You cock a brow at him, confused by his meaning. The jeans fall to his ankles, his tight boxers and erection greeting you at eye level. “I thought something happened to you when you hadn’t respond.” He clarifies, at which you almost didn’t comprehend, too mesmerized by the v-lines dipping into his erected boxer.

You blink back into reality, nodding your head with understanding. “I’m sorry baby, I just figured, why give you a booty pic via text message when you can have the real thing right here in front of you.” Your voice dips into a seductive tone, eyes lowering in a sensual way. He loved the way you lowered your eyes and looked at him through your long lashes.

He wonders how his dick and heart hasn’t fell out of his body, but he puts it to the side as he crawls back into the bed so he could be with you.

The lust that coursed through him, subsides as he takes in the harmonious voice of Daniel Caesar, singing Best Part. He replaces your spot, leaning against the headboard as you rest your head on his chest. His muscles loosened instantly, heartbeat decelerating like he just got shot by a tranquilizer.

Caressing your cheek, he looks down at you. “I’m so glad you’re here. You really do make hard days better.” He admits never breaking his gaze on you.

You two were still fairly new in your relationship; you guys talked for several months while he was still attending classes at UCLA. But then he had to tie you down, proposing going steady a few months before he started the tour with Shawn. The sweet confessions came, but they were only occasional. And by occasional—you mean when you two are posting sweet little nothings about each other on social media. Although you both were sincere in what was posted, you two rarely voice how much you really do care for one another. Even if it’s visible how much you do.

It made your entire body hot, your heart fluttering as he places a chaste kiss on your lips, almost in a way to let it be known it wasn’t his dick talking, or any lust attached to how he felt. You bit your lip, fluttering your eyes open to his stunning ones. No matter how long you two will be together, the vibrancy of his eyes will be something you’ll never get used to.

“I’m glad you chose me.” You admit, smiling. You and him both knew he had his fair share of women who wanted that throne you proudly own. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you, however, that he wanted you. It took a lot of convincing, dates and actions that matched his declaration of how badly he wanted to be with you. He enjoyed the chase, but he cherished having you to himself far more.

The bad day that he had sheds away from him as he held you in the silence, the grainy vinyl and soothing rain making you guys placid.

Eventually, he decided he should shower, the rain not sporting the best smell, although you didn’t mind. His scent was something you’re accustomed to, no matter how it’s manipulated the soothing natural odor belonging to him was still present.

As he showered you took the initiative to join him. His surprised expression photo-worthy as you pushed inside. After a half hour of frolicking in the hot shower: Kissing every thirty seconds, while telling each other reasons why you like each other so much: Washing his back and him doing the same (which results in him feeling on your ass): To attempting to have sex, but stopping after he trips and nearly kill both of you. You two are barely dried as he carries you to the bed.

His body, which was only covered by a towel, falls on your hardly covered one as he drops you down on the sheet. You giggle into his continuous gentle kiss. “Why do you keep kissing me?” You say in between pecks.

Connor feigns offense as he leans back. “You’re kissing me.” He retorts earning your roll of eyes as she tuts. “Did you really come all this way because you knew I was having a bad day and you wanted to give me the booty via-reality?” He asks after silence fell.

You laugh at ‘via-reality’ holding his squishy cheeks squared to your face, “no baby. I had it already planned to come. It was just a coincidence that you weren’t having a good day. So call it good luck that I was able to rescue the day.” You reassure pecking his nose.

Pondering for a moment, he looks at you through his thick eyelashes, the arrays of blues and greens in his irises nearly beamed at you, “you really are the luckiest thing that has blessed me. Honestly. I’ve been blessed.” He says it with almost disbelief.

The sweet confessions are all so overwhelming you couldn’t help yourself from climbing on him. The towel hiding your body slips a little, your cleavage coming into view.

“You’re literally the best Brash.” You mumble into the side of his neck as you hold him close to you. You leave a hot kiss on his neck, traveling up until you hovered over his ear, “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else right now.” You meekly say, breathing softly as his hands cupped your ass, you lightly nibble at his earlobe.

He groans, hands tightening. You could feel the response to your actions in his lap as he pressed his erection up into you. Carefully, he peeled back the towel, his breath fanning over your collarbone as he left wet kisses across it, until he dips down to take an erected nipple into his mouth. You instantly moan, hands rising to grip his wet hair.

Just as the intensity of both of your touches and kisses grew a knock at the door disrupted it all. Connor all but screamed as he leaned away from you.

Cez’s voice sounded at the door as the muffled, “I only need you for five minutes. Bring your camera please.” confirmed it was important. He scurried out of bed to slip on a pair of shorts, leaving his chest bare.

“Do not move.” He instructs with his hand held out. You giggle and nod your head obediently. He sighs inspecting you once more. You looked like a renaissance painting, perched up in the bed with the towel loosely hanging at your hips, hair gorgeously messed up around your shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to ignore his bosses and stay in bed.

By the time he was finished showing Cez and Andrew photos from the last concert, you had dozed off. He doesn’t try to wake you once he’s back in the room, he takes another photo from his camera instead. Your hair covered your face, and your bare back was the only visible thing. The photo looks staged, even in your natural unconscious state was it easy to capture your beauty. He gets his phone and puts the new photo on his Instagram story (which is a bold move for him since he’s never posted a photo of this sort) captioning it with:

“No matter how bad a day can be, she sure can turn it around.”

Placing the phone on the bedside table, he cautiously press down on your back, giving you a gentle kiss right behind your ear, before snuggling in beside you. You stirred a little at his suddenness, but fell right back asleep, him doing the same.

——

So it’s not my best work and I’m sorry about that. I’m not really used to writing in second person point of view so it’s something I’ll probably only do occasionally. But we all want CONtent so I just wanted to share a little.

#connor brashier #connor brashier fic #connor brashier imagine #connor brashier blurb #connor brashier smut #connor brashier fluff #shawn mendes imagines #coNtent ;)

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thenewlarislynn · 4 years

Text

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 15

Possible TW: Needles

~~~

Agreeing to the terms Bucky had set, you met with Wanda later that same day. Having both the powers and history that most closely reflected yours, she was selected to help you train. You went back to the training room, but when you returned most of the equipment had been pushed to the side and in its place were several flammable objects, and somewhat reassuringly, a fire extinguisher.

Arriving before Wanda did, you had a chance to fully scope out the gym. One thing you picked up in your training with Natasha was to always find the closest exit. That way if your position was somehow compromised, you could get out as quickly as possible. The gym had two exits, one was the main door and the other was a fire exit that led to the stairs. All the floors in the tower had stairs in case of an emergency. For that you were grateful, because it would be awhile before you took an elevator again.

You heard the door open behind you and saw Wanda enter the training room. “Hi, Y/N, I’m Wanda. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet,” she said with a smile. Immediately you felt drawn to her, and returned the smile. “So, I was told I’m here to help you with your powers. Something about a dangerous mission?” she questioned with a chuckle.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well then we’d better get started. I’m not a pyrokinetic but I can mentally manipulate things, so I could give you some pointers. Can you make those wires there start sparking?”

You closed your eyes and pictured the wires sparking to life and starting a small fire. A minute later you heard the quiet crackle of flames and knew you were successful.

“Good, but you’ll need to be quicker, if you’re in a battle and need a fire, the enemy won’t wait for you to get it started. Put it out, and try again, faster this time.”

You closed your eyes and pictured the fire going out, and it did immediately. You then tried to reignite it, but it still took some time.

“Have you tried to do it with your eyes open?” Wanda questioned.

“Uh, no, I guess having my eyes closed just felt right, but I can try.” Staring directly at the fire, you told it to go out and it did. Then, you told it to ignite with a large spark, and instantly it did.

“Very good,” Wanda smiled. “I think you might have your new strategy. Now make everything catch on fire.” “Are you sure? If I can’t put it out-” “We have the fire extinguisher here for a reason.”

You took one look at the flammable items in front of you and commanded them to ignite. They did, and before you knew it, there was a great blazing inferno in front of you. Then, as quickly as the blaze started, you put it out.

Wanda had you repeat the exercise a few times to get it down to an exact science but then she said, “That was perfect! Now, I did hear you were able to set not just things on fire, but yourself too. Or is that just a rumor?” “Nope,” you smiled, “it’s true.” In the blink of an eye, you felt heat spread over you, and Wanda beamed. “I knew you could do it, that’s incredible!” She paused for a moment to think, then asked, “Have you tried using the fire to make yourself fly? I don’t know if it would work, but since heat rises, maybe you could make it lift you off the ground?”

“I mean, it might work?” You were uncertain, but eager to try. Sending a mental message to the flames surrounding you, you soon felt them begin to lift you up. “Oh my God,” you exclaimed, “I’m actually flying.” Coming back down to the ground, you put out the flames.

“We might only be scratching the surface of what your powers can do,” Wanda said, “but what you did here should be more than enough for your mission.”

“Thank you so much!” You knew for sure now that Bucky would be more at ease with you going on the mission.

“Oh, before you go, Natasha told me that there’s a possibility that you may have been given the serum?” “Well that’s what she believes,” you said, trying to make your disbelief clear, “but personally I think I would know if I was given some kind of superhuman powers.” “You didn’t know about the pyrokinesis until recently though, and you had that your whole life, so there is a possibility. Stark developed a test for it, I just have to get a little sample of your blood.” “Is there any other way? I’m not big on needles, not after what happened before.” You shivered as you recalled being injected and falling under HYDRA’s mind control.

“There isn’t any alternative, I’m sorry,” Wanda replied, sounding genuinely concerned. “It’s just a small needle though, and then we’ll know for sure about your superhuman status,” she said good naturedly.

You flinched as the needle pricked the skin on your forearm, which was still slightly sore from your training with Natasha.

Wanda then took the blood sample and put it in a test tube filled with a bubbling liquid and mixed it carefully. “You know before all of this, I wanted to be a chemist. Growing up, I would help my mother cook. Perfecting recipes was kind of like balancing chemical reactions. It won’t happen now, but sometimes Bruce lets me use his lab to conduct experiments.” She wore a sad smile on her face, and it made you feel sorry for the girl who lost herself in all this mess. “Well, Stark said when this is done reacting it will turn either green or purple. If it’s green, then you’ve been given the serum.”

You felt dread creep over you as you waited for the reaction to end, and finally it did. Except it wasn’t purple like you expected. It was green. Stumbling backwards, you felt panic seize you, This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be possible. Just a week ago you were a normal college student. Now what are you? Some kind of pyrokinetic super soldier? No, it had to be some kind of twisted dream. Sitting down near the treadmill you squeezed your eyes shut. You pinched the skin on your wrist, but nothing happened. “This can’t be real, this isn’t real,” you whispered to yourself.

“Maybe try saying ‘There’s no place like home?” Wanda suggested as she sat down next to you. “Hey, it worked for Dorothy.”

“I thought, maybe, even if I was an Avenger, I could have some kind of normalcy. Maybe settle down with someone, live a regular life.” “Clint has something like that, he has a wife and kids, and a place out in the country. You could too.” “Not if I’m going to live to be, I don’t know, what, a hundred and fifty?”

She looked genuinely puzzled for a moment and asked, “Oh, so you and Bucky aren’t together then?”

“No, we aren’t, why does everyone keep asking me that?” You blushed, but couldn’t quite place why that made you feel flustered. “But I should probably go let him know what happened. Thank you for everything, Wanda.” She nodded, “Of course, and if you ever want to practice with your powers again, just let me know.” “Thank you, I will.” You walked out of the room and felt the tightness in your chest building again. You made it around the corner and the stairway before breaking down. Tears streaked your face as you felt everything you knew starting to slip from your grasp. Sitting down on the steps you put your head in your hands and began to sob. You should have been excited. People would kill for a dose of that serum, and that just made you feel worse. To be honest, you thought it was a bit exciting, but you mainly felt the loss. You never really thought about your future other than wanting to complete law school, maybe start your own firm. But now, with basically all options taken from you, the only thing you could think about was what could have been. Soon after, your mind started to shut off and you passed out on the stairs.

Bucky was heading down to the gym to check on your training session when he saw you lying on the steps, completely unconscious. “Doll? Hey doll?” He gently propped you up against the wall. “Come on, doll. Stay with me, it’ll be alright, I’m here.” Stirring slightly, you began to open your eyes. “Bucky? Where am I?” “In the stairway, you must have passed out.” His voice was laced with concern, “What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing, it’s silly, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” You didn’t want him to know you had gotten upset about the serum. “If something caused you to completely pass out in the middle of a stairway, it’s not nothing.” You took a deep breath and then blurted out “HYDRA injected me with superserum.”

“How do you know?”

“Natasha had a feeling about it this morning, so Tony developed a test that Wanda administered. I know I should feel excited but I just feel even more different.” “Hey, it’s alright, doll. When I first fully realized I was given the serum I had just fallen off a train and thought I was dead. You might be more different, but that doesn’t change who you are. You’re strong, and you’re brave and you’re kind. Those are qualities that you have already, and no serum altered that.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and he froze for a second before putting his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll be alright, phoenix. So, what did Wanda have to say about your powers?” “She thinks I’m ready for the mission. I can set things on fire and put it out instantaneously. I also figured out how to control the fire enough for it to make me levitate.” “That’s incredible, doll. But are you still sure you want to go? Fury could still send a SHIELD operative. You’ve only been an Avenger for a day.” “I trust myself. I may not have all the experience in the world but Wanda said my powers are strong enough for the mission. And, to be honest, it almost feels as though it’s my destiny to complete this mission. Alicia lied to me for years, pretended to be my friend. Who knows how much of my life she shaped? I have to be the one to bring her in. For good this time.”

“If you trust yourself, I trust you too. Fury got a lead on the murderer, by the way. He wants to brief us on that before we leave in the morning.”

“Do they know who it is?” A knot formed in your stomach, wondering if there were any other traitors in your life.

“They do, actually. But I don’t think you’re going to be too happy with the answer.”

~~~

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Hope you all enjoy this midweek update! Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

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valleyofearthsbeginning · 4 years

Text

The Only Home She Knew: Ch. 1 Almost Mrs. Merlotte

Delia Reynolds has been missing for 10 years. Now she finds herself coming back home a little different but the only thing that has stayed the same is the town of Bon Temps and her love for Sam Merlotte. Does Sam still love her after all these years? Can he forgive her?

_______________________________________________________________________

It was like nothing had changed, in ten years nothing had changed. Bon Temps was just as bland and dull as it was when she left it. The wind stirred against the willows, bringing up the smell of rancid swamp water and whatever animal was dying close by. It burned her nostrils given that her sense of smell was in overdrive. She was close to a restaurant of some kind; the odor of meat grilling was at least a mile away. It was dark, the kind of dark that seemed to never end in the south.

It was the kind of dark that could send chills down your spine, whether you were human or not. The only glimpse of light was the little flickers from the fireflies buzzing around, the aura of the restaurant ahead, and the moon. She decided to run ahead.

‘ Merlotte’s ’, she read. Her face lit up brighter than the moon above her. She knew once she opened those doors, she was home.

She stood there amazed at everyone and everything. The people of Bon Temps were laughing and drinking themselves to death, like she never left. She scanned the room, until she recognized a loud mouth and a head full of bright crimson hair. Arlene. She made eye contact with Arlene and suddenly, the pitcher Arlene was holding crashed down to the floor.

Arlene just stood there, not moving a single muscle, like she was frozen in time. ‘Ho-ly shit’, were the only words that managed to escape her lips. Soon the whole room went silent. Another voice emerged from the back.

‘Arlene, you can’t keep droppin’ the-‘. She took a step back. It was like going back in time, he still looked exactly the same.

His hair was exactly the same, maybe a little longer and definitely a little grayer. Damn, that man knew how to wear a pair of jeans! Everything fit perfectly. She met him in the eyes and instantly she felt drawn to him like she never left. Just like the last ten years never happened. She could see the look of anger, disbelief, and hurt all in one glance. But she always got weak in the knees for Sam Merlotte .

‘Delia?’ He sputtered.

She found herself gushing with excitement. She walked towards him, arms open. She wrapped around him tight him, breathing in his scent. Even though everything was so strong to her this was so different. It was comfortable. It was home.

‘Sam’, she whispered longingly into his ear.

‘ How did you- where did you-‘ He responded the way she expected him to, the way she expected anyone to respond but the thing was that she knew Sam. She knew what made him happy, what made him tick and she would never forget.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ she asked him. He nodded.

Nothing was said as she followed Sam towards his office, they walked in silence. The crowd was still quiet but, she could hear the gossiping whispers. As she passed the kitchen, she saw an uncooked hamburger being slapped on the grill. It only reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in about three weeks; the ringing in her ears began. She was used to not eating for long periods of time. It was how she learned to curb her hunger for human flesh. At first she fed on squirrels and other animals, but they had a gamey taste she really didn’t care for. Once True Blood came along she found the transition a lot easier.

She entered his office and he closed the door behind him. She started to feel faint, soon enough she was starting to look at the ceiling.. ‘Whoa, hey!’ Sam caught her just in time before she hit the floor. The nosebleeds began. This always happened when she didn’t feed well, not only her but, every vampire got the bleeds. Sam ushered to the chair at his desk and gave her a towel for her nose. ‘Have you eaten? You look-‘

She giggled at him. ‘What? Sick? Pale?’

‘No, you look the same, exactly the same.’ He said as if he just said an ugly secret out loud. She looked at him and sighed.

She realized that she had a lot of explaining to do, not just to Sam but to everyone. She looked at him in the eyes. He was giving her the same look he had ten years ago. Her eyes began to drift to the box of True Blood on the floor. Sam followed her eyes to the box. It took him a minute to figure out why she was looking but it all came together.

‘You’re a-?’ Once again like letting out a dirty little secret. She saw the anger and pain rise in him.

Sam, I promise I will explain everything to you, I promise. Just let me eat , okay?‘ She gathered enough strength to walk towards him. She kissed him gingerly on his cheek and smelled his scent once more. Sam closed his eyes.

“Who the hell does she think is, she comes here after ten years and I’m supposed to wait until she decides to get good and ready to tell me the truth?” he thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

He loved that girl more than anything in this world. Hell, he would give her the world if he knew how. He nodded his head and remembered that he had a restaurant to run.

`‘We can talk when I close up. Take my keys, there is a string a housing complexes just down the road, mine is the second one on the left. Take as much True Blood as you can carry and just wait for me there.’

Sam really didn’t know why he was so trusting of her, he didn’t know where she had been or who she could’ve possibly become while she was gone. ‘Sam.’ She called out after him.

‘Thank you’ She honestly didn’t know what else to say, she knew she was asking a lot, especially after what she put Sam through. He nodded and walked out. He began to think, ‘Is this why you couldn’t pick up a fucking phone? Huh? We have been looking for you for ten years, Delia, I thought you were dead.’

He couldn’t keep his mind on anything else. Especially since Arlene kept staring at him, he swore she was burning a hole right through him. He knew what she was getting at, she was wondering what he was going to do now. The answer was that he didn’t know and he was pretty sure there were no self-help books on what to do when the girlfriend you intended on spending the rest of your life with, disappears for ten years and comes back as a vampire. For right now he was going to keep it as normal as he knew how.

Delia walked up the steps to the house. She reached for the screen when the dog on the porch seemed to feel threatened. ‘Shhh, hey now its ok. I’m a friend, I promise.’ She gave the pup a straight look in the eyes and a rub behind the ears. Immediately, the canine rolled over onto its belly, waiting to receive all the scratches it could get. Delia smiled from ear to ear like the pup before her.

She opened the door into Sam’s house. It was rather un-homey. Other than the god awful wallpaper, which she knew Sam probably picked out, he never was never one for decoration. He had no sense of style really, for goodness sakes all he ever wore were jeans and t-shirts or whatever awful button up he could find. But that was Sam.

Other than a few boxes there really wasn’t any sign of anyone living here. She looked around to see what kind of man Sam had become, while she was gone. She wanted to see vacation photos, photos of friends or even ex-girlfriends hell, even current girlfriends. Thinking back, she realized that Sam was always alone. If she wasn’t with him, he was alone. She couldn’t help but think if he had been alone the whole time while she was gone.

She walked into the kitchen to look into the fridge. Nothing. She put the four cases of True Blood onto the floor and put one bottle into the microwave. It really didn’t taste any better hot but it tasted better than cold blood. She soon wandered into the back bedroom. The bed was unmade.

“Maybe he slept here,” she thought.

She placed the bottle of True Blood on the nightstand and knelt down, she could smell him on the pillow and sheets. “He definitely slept here.” She breathed him in. She started to think of the days she would spend in bed with Sam. She would first spend a few hours with him but he would wrap his arms around her waist and pepper kisses on the back of her neck.

‘Baby, please don’t go. Please just a few more hours. It gets so goddamn lonely out here, baby please!” He begged and pleaded.

She loved being alone with him. They would always joke about getting married and starting a family. They joked about going around the world and one day opening a restaurant. They joked even though every time she could tell Sam Merlotte wasn’t joking. Next to the bed was a box of old t-shirts. She dug deeper into the box to see if she could find anything else about Sam. Found a picture. Nothing new, just a memory, something she had almost forgotten.

It was her and Sam on a lake outside of Shreveport. It was after college finals and Sam wanted to reward her or more like reward himself, because they could start the next phase of their life together. He was holding onto her hips tight and kissing her cheek, while she smiled into the camera. She also remembers the fight they had right after that picture was taken. Sam was ready for their lifetime adventure, while Delia wanted to take her time and start things slow.

‘ What about our plans, baby? What about what we talked about?’ He protested.

``I know, I know. We could still do it. You can come with me and get an apartment. And hey, since you got your GED, maybe you could take a few classes –‘

‘I don’t have the money for schools like these. Why can’t we just do like we planned?‘

She wanted to go with Sam so bad but she knew if she didn’t get a diploma for something that she could really get a job, that also paid well, she would be kicking herself for the rest of her life.

‘I’m not saying we still can’t do it, im just saying if I get a decent education then that would make the future so much easier. We wouldn’t make that many mistakes later on.’

‘What do you mean by decent education? Mistakes? What mistakes?’ His blood was boiling. ‘Look just because I didn’t go to any tight-assed college doesn’t mean –‘

‘Oh yeah because I forgot you’re the Lone Fucking Ranger! I get it Sam, AUTHORITY BAD! I’m not asking you to enroll in fucking Oxford, I’m just asking you to do something that’s going to help us-‘

‘Well you sure as hell wasn’t thinking about us when you decided to get rid our baby.’

He said it to spite her. He knew that ate her up inside, he knew that she hated herself for what happened but it was too late for him to take back what he said. He saw the tears and hate swell up in her eyes but he was mad at her, he was mad because it seemed like she was trying to destroy the family that he wanted, the life he wanted to have with her.

Tears fell from her eyes like a stream. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t even know what to feel. She couldn’t be mad at him for saying it; it hurt him as much as it hurt her but the way he said it like he was using it to make her feel guilty. That baby didn’t ask to be conceived, it was too many tequila shots and Delia feeling needy.

‘Fuck You.’ It came out like she couldn’t breathe

She took one of the oars. Sam thought that he was going to end up in the lake. She pulled the boat towards the dock, which was a lot harder than she thought, she usually let Sam row. All he could do was watch her because God knows what she’d do to him if dared to try to talk to her right now.

Once the boat reached the dock, she hoisted herself up on the ladder and ran. She really had no idea where she was going but she didn’t want to look at Sam Merlotte. Her tears flew back against the wind making it hard to see where she was going. She decided to stop in the middle of a meadow of dandelions not to far from the lake. She collapsed down into the ground hard. Her body was shaking from crying.

She jumped when Sam came and put an arm around her, she could barely hear him through her sobbing. He rocked with her back and forth.

‘Shh baby it's okay. ‘ he whispered to her. ‘It’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t.’

He peppered kisses all over her neck. His shirt was soaked with all the tears but he didn’t care, he was holding onto someone who loved him and she loved him right back. Delia managed to catch her breathe for a moment.

‘I’m sorry Sam, I’m sorry I fucked everything up for us. I’m-‘ he interrupted her.

‘Hey, you didn’t fuck anything up okay. Hell, if anything was fucked up it was because of me, I was being selfish. I wasn’t thinking about you and how you felt I was thinking of myself and I’m sorry. I love you Delia. I love you more than anything in this world. You are all that I have and I appreciate you sticking with me, I really do. I am always going to love you okay. Now I brought you out here to have a nice day with my favorite woman and to-‘

She kissed him. He was all that she wanted right now in this moment and that’s what she had. She was never going to love anyone the way that she loved Sam.

‘I love you Sam.’

‘Love you too baby’.

Drops of blood began to drip down onto the picture. She touched eyes and found them wet. She looked down to her fingertips and saw the same red that was dripping on her hand held memory. This photo reminded her of a promise she made to herself, a promise that she made to Sam and now, many years later she realized that she had broken that promise the moment she had a choice. The choice was to go back home Bon Temps and seek help from her family, from Sam or to stay away.

Her eyes began to pour down blood. That feeling came back to her. That feeling she had they day she went to the clinic pregnant and left pregnant free. That feeling she had that day on the lake when Sam dug up the guilt she had. The feeling that the world would be better off without her and that Sam would be better off without her. She set the photo on top of the night stand next to her bottle of True Blood which was now only a little warm. She walked into the bathroom. It was vacant of everything. Everything in it was stark white; the sink, the toilet, the walls, the floor. The blood seemed so red, so fake once it dripped onto the white tile.

She looked at the mirror. Her cheeks seemed like they had a blush on her chestnut skin but, it was only the blood stains she got when she cries.

‘He deserves more than this, he deserves more than you.’ She said to herself in the mirror.

Wanting to kill herself was nothing new. She wanted to do it the night she was turned but, that only makes her a coward. She looked at herself in the mirror once more. She was dirty, hungry, and she smelled so bad that she was beginning to be repulsed by her scent. She turned to the shower and turned on the hot water. She had always been that way. She had always liked her showers and baths hot. She checked to see it was hot enough it burned her hand but it healed in an instant.

She took off her rancid clothes and stepped into the shower. She let out a wailing sound of pain from the hot water. It kept burning and burning her skin but her skin just kept regenerating. She wanted to be numb to it. Numb to the pain, the hurt, to everything. Blood kept falling from her eyes and onto the bottom of shower, only this time the water made them more pink. All she could do was cry now how hard she tried to stop, all she just wanted to do was cry. She crouched down and curled her knees toward her chest and rested her head against the shower wall and let the blood stream down her face.

#sam merlotte imagine #true blood imagine #true blood #sam merlotte x reader #black reader #eric northman

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darthlorddiamond · 4 years

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The Comeback

This is the tenth episode of the Black Diamond story, if you want to read the previous episode or follow the next ones you can check my Masterlist.

Summary: After Keldo's murder, Diamond's life on Parnassos was no longer meaningful, so when a ship from her past requested permission to land, she found an option to leave the planet.

Words: 2,471

Reading Time: 10 min

Category: Bio

Warnings: Blood, Muder

__________________

The Comeback

I took one of the vehicles that Keldo had brought and raised his body into it. Before I started my way back, I stayed for a while just holding the steering wheel, Keldo's body lay in the back seats. I tried to regain my temper a bit before I returned to the clan, I didn't want my anger to manifest in the same way as it did in Hoth, however, it was obvious that something in me had just broken and it would be very difficult, if not that impossible, get it back.

When I reach the clan, my men already were there, with the troop of Phasma surrendered. They had lined up all of them, tied hands and knees to the ground. I also saw that Balder had already arrived with several of his men very well-armed.

I got out of the vehicle and immediately Balder approached me with a firm step "I demand that you give me an explanation at this very moment!" I simply ignored him, so he chose to follow in my footsteps by positioning himself behind me. When I opened the back door, Balder tried to hold me down to look at him, but stopped as he watched my load "Help me carry him", I whispered to him. I stepped aside so Balder could get into the back of the vehicle to hold him down.

Keldo's body dripped into Balder's chest, his arms dangled at his sides, while his back and knees were supported in Balder´s arms, when the other members of our clans watched us, included the Phasma troop, they hold their breath, while some of them began to whisper. We approached were the traitors of our group were, picking up my pace and still with a pain in my leg, that was minimal compared with my rage, Ylva slowly approached me and she held me by the shoulders while she saw the wound on my leg, which had already stained my pants with blood, I covered my wound with one hand and she returned her gaze to mine, whispering slightly "Where do you want us to place him?" I looked Ylva in the eye and a few seconds after, I directed to Balder "Leave him here, in front of them, I want them to see well what they did..." Balder stood in front of me and deposited Keldo's body on the floor, he crossed his hands over his chest and with a paternal caress, closed his eyelids. For a moment I couldn't take my eyes off of him, the way he seems to be sleeping, he stayed calm, a completely different picture from the face he had when I found him, a face full of confusion, full of betrayal.

"Diamond..." Torben tried to get up off the floor when one of Balder's men grabbed him by the shoulders and whipped him on the floor again "I swear none of us knew..." by this point Siv and Gosta had already burst into tears "I swear this was not what we wanted..." anger began to flood my chest again, my fists were so tight that I could feel my nails breaking the skin of my palms "Please Diamond! I need you to listen to me for a moment..." Torben was still trying to get my attention, so I started to advance towards him, gently moving my hand towards the hilt of my saber "Believe me, we never wanted that Keldo..." his name was the drop that filled my glass and with a subtle but precise movement, Torben's head rolled on the ground.

Torben's blood began to spill all over the ground and a gurgling came from his mutilated neck. Between cries, screams and desperate pleas, the heads of each one of them fell to the floor "I'm so sorry, Diamond, I never thought this would happen!" Siv shouted as she stared at my eyes while my saber impacted her neck. That silence, that has always been by my side, was present again, nobody dared to approach me, to drop a word, there were even those who tried to hold their breath while I walked in front of them.

A few seconds, minutes, hours passed, time became unimportant to me, when I felt Balder's hand holding my shoulder "We have nothing to talk about Balder..." I turned to look at him askance "The same betrayal you suffered, we also suffered it..." I put my saber in its holster "Our pact continues..." and I started walking towards the cabin that once, I shared with Keldo.

Life in Parnassos became more insufferable day by day for me. I had no reason to join the clan anymore and it was obvious that my compatriots trembled at my presence. The only person who continued to frequent me was Balder, who some nights visited my cabin with a bottle of rum and cigarettes so that we could spend the night in silence. It was rare the occasion in which one of the two said something, these visits of his only made notorious that we were trying to make our miseries felt accompanied for a few hours.

During one of our meetings, Balder let me know his concern regarding my isolation "You know, it's not good that you spend every day locked up here..." he was filling our empty glasses "I know perfectly well that you go out at night, although I don't know very well where or why..." extending his hand, he passes my glass "If life here in Parnassos no longer makes sense to you, then I don't know why you continue here" I turned to see him completely while lighting a cigarette "Explain Balder, what are you trying to tell me?" I took the glass and gave it a sip "I only say that, if one day arrives a merchant ship..." he continued to smoke, acting with some disinterest in what he said "Which happens to be interesting for you..." he drank from his glass while I looked at him raising an eyebrow "And, I don´t know, maybe, out of curiosity, you entered on it to see how is inside..." I let out a puff of smoke while a smile was drawn on his face "And without realizing it, I don't know, maybe the ship take off with you inside..." I gave one more smoke to my cigar and laughed out loud "Do our nights together bore you, Balder?" I continued laughing as he lit a cigarette "Don't misunderstand me, dear, you are the best company I had in years to get drunk!" we both started laughing as we collided our glasses "It would be a pity if you left..." his gaze changed, and his words became more serious "But if, any other night, I come to your cabin and you're not here anymore..." he let out a deep breath that made his whole chest fill "I´ll understand it perfectly..." and we both returned to silence, fixing our eyes on the fireplace in front of us.

An entire week went by without Balder coming to visit me, a week in which his words were spinning in my head over and over again, so, one night I sneaked out to the lookout post to see which ships were scheduled to land in Parnassos during the following days and I found one that caught my attention: a certain merchant ship registered under the name of the Hutt Clan. It was a mere coincidence, or perhaps it was fate speaking to me, while deciphering this, I wrote down the ship's data and returned to the cabin, the ship would supposedly land at a midpoint between our clans in 3 days and stay a single day in Parnassos, so if that was my way to leave, I should make a quick decision.

The next night, Balder came to my cabin, and after a few drinks, I decided it would be fair to tell him what I had discovered the night before "I want to suppose, from the fact that, while Egil was still with us and you decided to stay away from any event that involves interacting with external agents, is that you’re not well informed..." he said as he crosses his arms and played with his cigar in his mouth "On one occasion, Egil told me that he saved you from those merchants..." he puffed on his cigar and released the smoke "I want to think that you chose that ship for any reason other than the fact that it belongs to the Hutt Clan..." he put out his cigar and immediately lit another "And I want to think that you didn't choose it for wanting to unleash an ideological backward revenge..." he stared at me "Because if that's the case, I must tell you dear, that the Hutt Clan no longer exists".

I almost spit out my drink when I heard the final sentence that Balder had for me "What do you mean!? The record indicates that the ship belongs to the Hutt Clan!" I made my whole body forward, like a girl intrigued to know the answer "The Hutt Clan disappeared a few years ago..." he lit another cigarette and passed it to me “Now, they’re led by a dangerous mercenary and smuggler named Rinnrivin Di…” Balder's words were causing an unusual emotion that made my heart beat strongly “If we gave them permission to land, it was to avoid some type of punishment for this man, he's completely crazy!” my eyes kept on him, I wanted him to tell me more, I wanted to know more “Please Diamond, don't do something stupid” and putting out his cigarette, he got up from his place, walked towards me, gave me a little kiss on the forehead and walk out of my cabin.

It was decided, a merchant ship, a smuggler ship, Hutt Clan or Rinnrivin Di, it no longer mattered, it no longer mattered at all who it was from, I had to get on that ship.

The next day, I spent the morning packing essentials in my backpack and I dressed myself in my most comfortable combat clothing: black leather pants, combat boots, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, a black tunic of a porous material that reaches to the floor that was open on both sides to my hip and my belt, in which I put my saber and some knives. When I finished, I left the cabin, causing that everybody on my way turn their gazes to see me, I was heading to where Ylva was.

I knocked on the door of her cabin and almost immediately she opened, as soon as I saw her, I threw myself into her arms and I held her as tight as I could. I buried my face in her chest and Ylva took her hands to my hair, stroking it, I could feel her tears falling on the top of my head. We held each other like that for several minutes and I separated from her, looking into her eyes, I went over to kiss one of her cheeks and started my way back to my cabin. We didn´t know what to say and yet we said all, from that moment on, we both knew that we would never see each other again.

Back at my cabin, I grabbed my backpack and headed to Keldo's desk. I opened one of its drawers, from which I take out a necklace with two charms hanging, one of them was a ring that belonged to Egil and that was the only thing that I could retrieve from him after the fire and the other was an arrowhead, that Keldo had carved when we started our training. I went to the kitchen, opened one of the cabinets and took out a bottle of rum, which Keldo had obtained from a merchant and was saving for the night of our wedding, I took the bottle to the main room and placed it in front of the fireplace, eventually, Balder would find it. I walked to the door, opened it, and left the cabin, leaving behind me everything and everyone that was part of my life in the Scyre Clan for the last three years.

It was starting to get dark when I reached the dunes between our clans, the place where the pseudo-Hutt Clan´s ship should land the next morning, so I looked for a nearby shelter and I sat to wait, taking time to meditate.

As expected, at dawn the ship landed. I began to circle the dunes were they were, while they unwrapped and began to put out their goods, in a matter of an hour, everything around them was already a small market. While some crew members continued to load and unload crates from the ship and place merchandise at their stations, I split something interesting in the distance. At the end of the day, it seemed that, despite what Balder told me and said me not to do, this was going to be a small revenge after all.

Standing by the hatch, lighting a cigarette and giving orders, was Liam. This was already becoming a game for me and I couldn't wait for it to start! Little by little people began to arrive at the merchant stalls, so I took advantage of the crowd to sneak into the interior of the ship. I walked through all the corridors, room by room, until I found one that contained a familiar desk, so I went in, sat to the foot of the bed, unsheathed my saber, placed it between my legs, and waited.

After several hours, I began to hear the hustle and bustle of the crew carrying the merchandise back in, shortly the ship was ready to take off. I could feel the movements of the elevation and the breaking of our atmosphere. My pulse fluttered, possibly my pupils were dilated, adrenaline was running through my veins, I was insatiably licking my lips, and, while my thoughts appeared chaotically facing each other, the door of the room opened.

Standing in front of me without moving a single muscle, was Liam, with his pale face and full open eyes. In a second he tried to bring his hand to his waist to take his blaster when I raised one of my hands and Liam flew through the room, hitting the door. I got up from his bed, saber in hand, walking slowly until I was a few inches of him. I could feel his racing pulse and how his thoughts were filled with fear and fury. I bring my face to his and start licking him, starting at his chin, going up to his left cheek until I reached his ear, and with my best effort of not killing him, I whispered... "Take me to Rinnrivin Di..."

Note: I would like to especially thank @kyloren-theprince, @thetorturerwrites & @kylorengarbagedump who took time to read this first part of my saga and sent me observations with all the patience in the world.

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beautifulandbleeding · 4 years

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I’ve been writing about Valery for a few weeks now, and I’ve finally decided that I want to post some of it. Like all the best stories this is really just an excuse to write about someone getting hurt haha

Summary: Private Investigator gets kidnapped after looking too deeply into things that he shouldn’t have. It is to his horror that one of his captors is someone that he knows. Captivity, sadism, torture, rich people being awful, and maybe a bit of a conflict of interest. Absolutely not written or posted in chronological order, but I’ll try to indicate when everything happens.

* * *

Valery Meets Earnshaw For The Second Time

< | One Month After Being Kidnapped | >

After only half an hour Valery’s knees hurt from kneeling on the hardwood floor. He couldn’t adjust how he sat, as every attempt to shift his weight in any direction just earned a jerking pull at his head; the security guard that Earnshaw had ordered to stand with his hand twisted through Valery’s hair to keep him still apparently taking his job far too seriously. Valery knelt on the ground between Earnshaw and the woman that he was entertaining, just out of the way enough that he wasn’t in the way. His hands were cuffed on his lap, and by now his shoulders hurt. The ground pressed up against his shins, and he was sure that he’d be bruised later.

More bruised, anyway.

“Is he another one of your projects, Henry?” The woman asked randomly, after a brief silence where she sipped her tea. Her hand briefly rose to gesture towards Valery, before returning to the arm of the settee. A prickle of heat rose to the top of Valery’s back and across his neck, and he grit his teeth. She’d not even looked at him.

“I haven’t decided what I want to do with him,” Earnshaw said. “Why, do you like him? Do you want him?”

The woman huffed. She was beautiful like a gun was beautiful, with her white-blond hair pinned at the top of her head and a suit that was also white. She had green eyes that looked like sea-glass. She held a delicate china cup with her delicate hands. Valery didn’t miss how they shook; had been watching them, so that he had something to focus on. She acted like she didn’t notice.

“You know that you and I don’t share the same tastes.”

“So you don’t think he’s interesting,” Earnshaw said. “Will you be more interested when he’s another broken, simpering idiot? Come on, Gail. I know you.”

“What will you do with him?” Gail asked.

Earnshaw sat back in his seat, turning his gaze towards Valery. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Valery glared. “You won’t do shit to me.”

“I’ve already hat a lot done to you,” Earnshaw said fondly. “Or do you mean that I won’t do anything new? In which case, you’re wrong.”

Valery laughed until a sharp jerk at his scalp cut him off, and Earnshaw turned back to Gail.

“He was a private investigator. I’m sure that you can imagine how he fell into my hands.”

“What could he possibly have wanted with you?” Gail asked drily.

“He thought that I had something to do with this missing girl, you know the one—Maria, Martha…. What was her name, Valya?”

“Valery.”

“I don’t think that it was, actually.”

“That’s my name, you fucking—” A jerk of his head again, and the press of the guard’s knee against the middle of Valery’s back. Like a warning. So far Earnshaw had yet to be alone with Valery. Valeyr clung to that. There was no end to what he would do to Earnshaw. If he just had the chance—

“What was the girl’s name?” Earnshaw repeated.

Valery glared, and Earnshaw just shook his head. “It doesn’t look like he wants to cooperate, today.”

“You don’t say.”

“I dare say that he’s making me look bad.”

“Marissa Shale,” said the man holding Valery’s head said. Valery closed his eyes, shuddering at the voice. Just another security guard. Just another one of Earnshaw’s goons—didn’t deserve to even sound like he had a respectable job. Who cared if the voice was a familiar one? He was no one to remember, no one for Valery to be twisted up about.

“Thank you, James,” Earnshaw said. “Yes, that’s right. The girl’s name was Marissa. From what I gathered from Valery’s notes, she went missing almost a year ago. The police didn’t think that her disappearance was suspicious—she was over eighteen, and her relationship with her parents wasn’t the best anyway. Of course, they thought that something was up. I believe they suspected her boyfriend at the time—they didn’t like him much—and so they hired a private investigator to help. That would be our Valery, and something in the investigation led Valery to me.”

Had he read through all of Valery’s notes, or did one of his goons do the reading and just report back to him?

“God knows what that could be,” Gail said with a little laugh.

“Truly,” Earnshaw said.

Valery rolled his eyes, although neither of them saw. His heart beat harder, and he swallowed down the dread that had managed to sneak up on him. There was no way that anyone would ever have him so afraid that he didn’t even dare do something that came as naturally to him as rolling his goddamn eyes. He’d kill himself if he reached that point.

“For now I’m just letting the boys take care of him,” Earnshaw went on. “It’s good to let them have their fun. As long as they don’t kill him while I decide what I want to do with him.”

“You’re so generous.”

“Do you want to know something really interesting? Do you see James there?”

Valery couldn’t tell what changed, but something in the way that the man stood behind him shifted, such that Valery was suddenly more aware of the guard than he was of Earnshaw or Gail. James had been behind Valery the whole time, and it wasn’t possible to forget about his hands twisted in his hair, but at the sound of his name Valery suddenly felt how solid he was. Like he suddenly became a real person, and not just another body. Someone with a face and not just a feature of Valery’s nightmare.

“He and Valery knew each other before Valery decided to start investigating me. Isn’t that right?”

Silence from James. Valery didn’t say anything either; wished that he could see James’ face.

“I’m hoping for something interesting,” Earnshaw went on. “How did you know each other again?”

“We dated for two years,” James said. “We split up three years ago.”

It hadn’t surprised Valery to find that James was working for Earnshaw. No, in the course of Valery’s investigation he’d learned that relatively early on. He’d not known what to think. He still didn’t. James had a good punch and Valery knew it even before they’d split up. Did it change anything to know that he was working for a fucking scumbag like Henry Earnshaw? Did it change anything that James had beat the shit out of him multiple times since he’d been taken?

Valery didn’t know.

But traitorously, he ached for wanting to lean against James. Even now he was still the most familiar thing in the room, even if he wasn’t the safest.

“Do you want to kill him?” Gail asked James. “I can think of a few ex-boyfriends that I’d want to put through the wringer.”

When she smiled it was horrible. Valery wished that he’d never seen that. He wished that he could turn away, but James was holding even more tightly to him, keeping him in place. Dimly Valery thought that he should be fighting harder, but it was impossible to imagine actually doing anything. Sitting here he felt more like the audience, watching a movie and screaming at the main character to just do something while knowing that it was hopeless. What was going to happen was already written, and he couldn’t look away from her face.

“I don’t need to kill him to put him through the wringer,” James said, with a laugh.

Earnshaw waved the air dismissively, like brushing away James’ words. “It doesn’t matter. Listen. Let him stand up, there, that’s good. Valery, stand over here.”

James untangled his hand from Valery’s hair, and Valery reached up with his cuffed hands to rub his scalp. It itched and burned. He pushed a few loose stands of black away from his face, then froze.

Earnshaw was pointing to the space directly in front of him, next to the table on which he was serving Gail her tea. “Come on. Get up.”

It was only a few feet away from where he’d had Valery sit, but he may as well be asking Valery to step into an open fire or lay his hand down on a burning stove. He couldn’t do it. His legs were cramped and the blood was rushing to his head for the effort of standing up. Valery felt first lightheaded, and then angry.

“What the hell are you playing at?” he snapped, drawing on some well of anger like he might have once drawn on his water-bottle replaced vodka to get through a particularly difficult ordeal. “If you want me to stand there, you’re just going to have to make me.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Earnshaw said with a glee that Valery hated. Earnshaw’s wide, open face was the epitome of an almost-fatherly patience. He looked at Valery as if he wanted to believe in him, as if he didn’t want to be disappointed. His expression was calm and that made Valery immediately suspicious, because no one in this world had any reason to look so at ease and excited.

“Fuck off,” Valery muttered. He couldn’t stop himself from hunching his shoulders.

“Really?” Earnshaw asked. “I’m disappointed. You’re making this harder for yourself.”

“You have me chained up in a dark room, being tortured!” Valery shouted. If James wasn’t standing right behind him, Valery would have hurt him. He felt his hands wanting to. “You said yourself this is some kind of entertainment for you! How much harder can it get?”

The woman snorted.

“Do you really want to ask that question, Valery?” Earnshaw inquired—and this time there was something darker on his face, a hint of malice to his smile. He might have hidden it before, but it had always been there. Of that, Valery was certain.

“You’re either going to hurt me again or you’re not,” he said, which later he thought might have sounded brave if someone else said it, but really it just sounded afraid. It was more like a bargain against the inevitable, a justification for what was about to happen. And the worst part was that he wanted Earnshaw to prove him wrong. He wanted James to prove him wrong, to help him—

But James wouldn’t do anything for him ever again.

“Get over here, Valery,” Earnshaw snapped. “Gail wants to say hi.”

The woman raised a hand in a mock-wave, and Valery was thankfully overcome with a wave of hatred towards her. It was enough, at least, to push himself up to his feet and take those two steps over to the side of their little coffee table. The room almost toppled, all the weeks that he’d barely been fed everything definitely catching up to him, but Valery pushed past that. Gail was right there, and he was so far in shit that it didn’t matter if he tried to kill her. What would happen then? He thought that he could walk up to her and rip her face apart. But then she looked at him with such a hunger on her face that Valery froze, his blood suddenly running cold. It was like for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

He forced himself to hold onto the anger and to turn to Earnshaw. Something familiar sang at the back of his thoughts: Do you worst, you asshole. What are you going to do to me? As Valery watched, Earnshaw stood so that he could better face Valery. He was a good few inches shorter than Valery, although he was wider, with broad shoulders and a haircut that made him look practical instead of elegant. Everything about him looked modern, the kind of person that Valery would have pegged as being this close to stockpiling his yacht for the apocalypse. When Earnshaw raised a hand Valery flinched, and Earnshaw laughed.

He touched the side of Valery’s shoulder, crawling his hands along the bare skin of his neck before reaching the side of his face. He cupped his hand around a large bruise, almost covering it completely.

Valery’s breath hitched.

“You’re nervous.”

“Don’t know how I’m supposed to act in this situation,” Valery murmured.

“Try opening your eyes.”

Valery laughed brusquely, tense and waiting for whatever was to come. The only warning that he got was Earnshaw’s deep sigh, like he was disappointed, and Valery pulled away but he wasn’t quick enough. Earnshaw wrapped a fist through Valery’s hair and with a practiced grace slammed his head against the table, driving him unconscious.

#whump #writing tag #captivity #valery #james #earnshaw

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