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#thank you to the person who suggested the ship name 'tumble' last time it made me really happy lol
miraclesabound · 1 year
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Beyond the Sea
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Summary: This time, it’s Cassian who comes to you, not the other way around - and he isn’t alone. Sequel to “On the Ship”.
Pairings: Cassian Andor/F!Earthling!Reader, mistaken Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Jyn Erso/F!OC
Notes: Set immediately after Rogue One, so Cassian and Reader haven’t seen each other in about four and a half years. Also on AO3.
Warnings: Facing death, recovery from major injuries/rehab, Jyn and Cassian mistaken for a couple and associated angst on Reader’s part, falling in love, hopeful ending.
Tags: @princessxkenobi, @grogusmum, @daydreamsofren​, @daydreamsofthrawn​, @autumnleaves1991-blog​, @morby​, @recklessworry​, @mcbenson25​, @ponyboys-sunsets​
The oncoming blast sends heat out like a furnace. Cassian and Jyn hold each other tight, not daring to look at what’s coming. Instead, Cassian focuses on what he can feel – Jyn’s small frame in his arms, his boots pushing against the sand, and the ache in his head.
A light begins to appear in his periphery, and he braces for the worst, but just when the fire reaches them, there’s a gust of cool wind…
--
Cassian wakes up after what must be less than a minute, and the face above him is that of a stranger. She’s an older woman, maybe in her 60’s – and she looks slightly like Maarva. Is this the afterlife?
“Oh thank God you’re awake, young man – you and your wife scared me half to death,” she says. “My name is Marnie, I’ve already called for assistance for your injuries.”
Cassian realizes with relief that Jyn is right next to him. However, she looks to be in grim shape, which means he can’t be doing well either. “Where are we?” he asks, trying to fight the continuing dizziness. They’re clearly not on Scarif anymore.
His eyes grow wide when Marnie tells him the name of the town, and he tries to sit up. “Please, there’s someone I need to contact; she’s from here.”
Marnie firmly stops him from moving further. “I’ll see if I can find her, but you need to stay still until you can get in an ambulance. What’s the name?”
He tells her the name, and her eyes widen. “How do you know her?” she asks in a wary voice.
“It’s a long story,” he says. “But please, I beg you, Ms. Marnie, tell her that Cassian Andor is here.”
-
When your godmother calls you, you rush to the hospital as quickly as possible. You’re not quite sure you believe what she’s telling you – but there’s no way Marnie would know Cassian’s name if he wasn’t the one to introduce himself. You get to Rosevale Medical, and Marnie is waiting for you with a visitor’s bracelet.
When the two of you get to the prep room, you’re torn between relief and disappointment. The relief comes from seeing Cassian, badly burned, but very much alive. The disappointment is that Marnie didn’t misspeak when she said Cassian was here with his bride. Why would the hospital put him in the same room with a beautiful woman if she isn’t his wife?
“Hey, stranger,” Cassian calls to you. His voice is weak, but he’s able to smile for you. “How long has it been?”
You return the smile, even as your stomach is tumbling. “Hey to you too – four and a half years, I think?”
The woman in the other bed speaks up. “Cassian, is this who you told me about?” There’s a lilt in her voice that suggests she’s of good family.
“Yeah, it is.” Cassian introduces the two of you quickly, and then he and Jyn (you must admit to yourself that her name is lovely) are taken back for surgery. Now all you can do is wait.
--
You made the mistake of not bringing a book, and you’re paying for that over the next several hours. Marnie had to go home, so you’re alone, stewing in your own thoughts.
Your life has been very full in the last few years, especially professionally. You’ve taken over for the boss who tried to mess with you all that time ago – and your CEO is mentoring you to possibly open an independent firm.
On the personal side, your family is thriving. Your brother has had a child now, and your niece is one of the lights of your life. Your best friend from childhood, Alex, has just finished her master’s degree, and when she came out as bi to her parents recently, it went beautifully.
However, you haven’t had a partner to share these victories with. You tried dating a few times, but nothing ever stuck. Perhaps the people you went out with could tell that your heart wasn’t in it – not that you intended to tell them that you had pinned your hopes on a man in a distant galaxy. However, now you feel like a fool for your attempt at faithfulness.
It’s been nearly five years – of course Cassian moved on from you. He’s been involved in a major rebellion, and if Jyn showed up here with him, she must be a rebel too. Surely, she’s more his type – not just in her beauty, but in that toughness in her face that you saw as soon as you met her. How could he not adore her? And besides, he didn’t ask you to wait for him – he only asked you to stay safe.
You don’t realize you’re crying until a nurse comes up to you and says, “Mrs. Andor is awake and asking for you, ma’am. Should I tell her you’ll be a few minutes?”
You nod, wanting to kick yourself for your self-pity. What gives you the right to sob about this? Jyn and Cassian have been through something terrible; they don’t need to be worrying about you too. You tell the nurse you’ll be along, and after you wash your face and get some water, you’re ready to go to the recovery room.
--
Jyn is alone when you go in to see her – the nurse explains that Cassian is still in the operating theatre due to having more complicated injuries. Jyn doesn’t smile at you, but there’s a warmth in her eyes that eases the ache in your chest. This woman is many things, but she clearly isn’t your enemy. The nurse shows you the small beverage refrigerator, and then she excuses herself.
“How are you feeling?” you ask Jyn.
“Mostly? I’m thirsty as hell,” she tells you.
You walk over to the fridge and crouch down in front of it. “I see bottled water, ginger ale and electrolyte drinks,” you say. “Which do you want? Ginger ale is nice if you’ve never had it.” And it’s quite likely she hasn’t, you figure. Who knows what herbs grow in her and Cassian’s galaxy?
“Sure, as long as it’s cold.” You grab the can and open it for her, giving her a straw when she has difficulty tipping the can. She takes a few sips, and she properly smiles for the first time. “You were right,” she says, “it’s delicious.”
She finishes her drink, and though you don’t want to pester her, she can tell that you’re curious. When you ask what happened to her and Cassian, she tells you everything – the plot to find her father, learning about the defect in a new Imperial weapon, and getting that information to the Alliance before the Death Star destroyed an entire mining base. When you hear the description of what the Death Star did, you can’t restrain a shudder.
“I worry about the rest of our team,” Jyn says. “I doubt anyone got off the base alive besides Cassian and me. And even then…” she looks at you with considering eyes. “I think we’re only here because of you.”
“What…did he actually say about me?” You quickly dismiss the flicker of hope bubbling in your chest. Surely Cassian was enough of a gentleman to not wax poetic about an ex-fling to his beloved.
“He said that you were there when he needed you, even if neither of you knew how. He said you were empathetic and sweet – and that Luthen believed you were soulmates.”
That last sentence should elate you, but instead, you feel sick. “I’m so sorry – you shouldn’t have had to hear that,” you tell her. “I never wanted to interfere in anyone’s marriage.”
“Marriage?” Jyn looks confused. “We’re not married?”
“Partnership, relationship, whatever you want to call it…I don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you say.
“But we’re not together,” Jyn says. “Who said we were?”
You’re sure that she can hear the gears in your head grinding to an awful screeching halt. “But…but you two were found together…Marnie said Cassian was scared for you…”
“Then she made a wrong assumption,” Jyn tells you. “Cassian’s my dear friend, but we’re not a couple. I have someone I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid, but…” She sighs heavily. “I don’t even know if she’s real.”
You sink into the chair next to Jyn’s bed, your head and heart both spinning. Jyn takes pity on you and squeezes your shoulder. “I’m the one who should,” she says. “I didn’t realize I was hurting someone Cassian cares for.” After some further conversation, you and Jyn both manage to fall asleep.
Cassian is brought back a few hours later, and he certainly finds it easier to sleep when he sees you and Jyn resting. When you’re all awake again, you get Jyn’s records corrected.
--
You hear a knock on your front door, and you hope your expression of relief isn’t too obvious to Cassian and Jyn. It’s been three weeks since they left the hospital, and while you’re happy to host their recovery, it’s been a hard change to have two other people in your space. As such, your friend Alex’s offer of help for today is much appreciated – she’s worked on a rehab ward before, and she knows that it’s exhausting work.
You leave Jyn and Cassian to their breakfasts, squeezing Cassian’s shoulder as you walk by. You’ll admit it makes your heart skip when he turns his head to kiss your hand. The two of you have fallen so easily into physical affection these last weeks, but sometimes he can still catch you off guard.
When you open the door, Alex wraps you in a hug, and you feel yourself settle a bit into her arms. “How are you and the patients?” she asks.
“We’re good, c’mon in.” You take her coat and bag, and she walks past you towards the kitchen. “We were just finishing – OOF!” Alex is stopped right in the kitchen doorway, and you nearly lose your balance as you bump into her. Over her shoulder, you see Jyn sitting straight up in her chair, her eyes wide as if she’s seen a ghost.
Alex feels you trying to push past, and she lets you through, but only so that she can go to Jyn’s side and crouch next to her. Jyn’s eyes are watering, and she asks in a much smaller voice than usual, “Are you real?”
“Are you?” Alex asks back.
Your own eyes widen, and you say to Jyn, “Is…is Alex your dream woman that you told me about?”
You may have directed the question to Jyn, but you can’t say you’re surprised when both she and Alex answer “YES.” in perfect unison.
--
The day goes by easier with Alex’s help, especially because she and Jyn are completely wrapped up in each other – Jyn takes the chance to fill Alex in on everything she can remember, and you chime in when Alex asks about how you and Cassian found each other.
The evening comes more quickly than expected, and you order dinner in. When the food arrives, you and Cassian opt to eat in the living room, while Jyn and Alex stay in the kitchen, still chatting even as they eat.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jyn talk this much to anyone,” Cassian tells you. He leans against your shoulder, and you kiss the side of his head. He and Jyn have been dutiful in their physical therapy, but you know it tires him.
“I’m glad for them both,” you say. “Alex never told me she was dreaming about someone, but she’s been single the last few years and…I remember what that was like.” You take another bite of your rice and swallow it down. “And I know now that you and Jyn were never an item, but I wasn’t sure she would appreciate us being…” You realize you were about to say “lovey-dovey”, but even with knowing that Cassian isn’t going anywhere, it is far too early to even joke about love. “Well, she wouldn’t appreciate being reminded that she didn’t have someone.”
“That’s fair,” Cassian agrees. “That said, it makes me wonder…”
“Oh?”
“Until Alex walked in here, I thought Jyn had come to Earth because of me holding on to her at the end – but I figure now it’s because of Alex. Two members of the same squad having soulmates on the same planet, in the same distant galaxy? That doesn’t seem like coincidence.”
Your eyes widen, and you do your best to calm your breathing – Cassian has never directly called you his soulmate before. “You mean – you think the others are here too somewhere?”
“I do – but I wish I knew for certain.” Cassian sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Not that we need a big reunion or something – but just to know they’re ok.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Let’s start researching, yeah?”
Cassian smiles and pulls you in for a kiss. “You’re a dream, honey,” he whispers against your mouth.
“So are you, love.”
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youre really my dearest friend
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sour--disposition · 3 years
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Take Me By The Hand
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harry lewis x fem!reader
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requested: Heyy, could you do the ‘take my hand’ concept that you did with JJ, but with Harry?? Love your writing sm! Xxx
please see my pinned post for masterlist and request info!
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One taking the others hand to help them up
You were 4 when you first met Harry properly. You’d been running around the playground, chasing after one of your friends when you’d taken a tumble and ended up in a small heap on the floor. Harry had come trotting over, sticking out a hand to help you up.
“Is your knee okay?”, he asked you.
“I don’t think so. It’s bleeding”, you told him sadly. 
Harry kept hold of your hand, dragging you over to where the teachers on duty were standing. “She hurt her knee”, Harry said bluntly, poking one of the adults and then pointing to your knee.
Harry followed you and the teacher inside, sitting next to you as you had your knee cleaned and a plaster stuck on. The teacher left to fill in the accident book and write a note for you to take home. “I’m Harry”, the boy said as soon as she’d left.
“I’m Y/N”, you told him with a bright grin.
“Shall we be best friends?”, Harry asked with a toothy smile.
“Yes!”.
-
Holding hands whilst one walks on a small wall
You and Harry had stayed best friends from that day forward. There wasn’t anything that you didn’t do together. Harry would always be the first person you’d turn to whenever anything was wrong. He held your hand through every trip you took to the first aid room in your primary school and he shouldered his way through to sit next to you whenever you were in a classroom together.
Harry asked you out on your first date when you were both 15. You’d gone to his house after school, pestering him until he did his homework before you let him outside. He’d been pacing around the lawn in front of you, completely distracted from his kickaround with Josh, as you sat on the deck with Rosie.
“What’s wrong with him?”, she asked from beside you.
“I have no idea”, you told her. “You know what he’s like though”, you dismissed, all the while worrying about your best friend.
Rosie and Josh ran inside 20 minutes later to help set the table for dinner, leaving you and Harry alone in the back garden. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?”, you asked him.
“Do you wanna go on a date?”, Harry blurted, leaving you stunned. The two of you were wide-eyed in surprise, both with words caught in your throat that you were desperately trying to say. 
“Yeah”, you smiled.
A week later you met Harry by the beach. You’d seen each other through the week during school and spending the evenings after school together, but this evening felt different. This evening would be the one that potentially changed yours and Harry’s relationship forever.
You walked side by side down to the sea front, stopping and sitting on a small wall there. The two of you talked for hours, like you always did. Harry telling you about his family, about what happened in the few classes that you didn’t share together, telling you about his day and you returning the favour. You laughed well into the sunset, a soft silence falling over you as you watched the sun dip beneath the Guernsey horizon.
“It’s getting dark, and it’s cold. Let’s head back”, Harry suggested. As soon as you’d stood up, you stepped up onto the wall you’d just been sitting on, making you ever so slightly taller than Harry. With your arms held out for balance, you took a few tentative steps.
Harry reached out, grabbing your hand to keep you steady. You looked over to him, a shy smile on his face that you soon mirrored, paired with a rosy blush. Harry kept your hands entwined as you walked along the wall, matching his pace with yours so he didn’t rush you and cause you to stumble.
When you reached the end of the wall and jumped down, your hand didn’t leave Harry’s.
-
Holding hands whilst driving
Harry had never let whatever Youtube success he was gaining get in the way of the two of you. He always made time for you, always made you feel important. As soon as he’d learnt to drive and got a car, you and Harry would spend hours traversing the coastline, wind pouring into the window and billowing through your hair as you watched the cliffs and waves pass you by.
If you were in his car, Harry would insist on you being in the passenger seat, no matter who else was joining you. His hand would always rest on your thigh as he drove, only ever moving to change gear before quickly returning to its place.
Your fingers were wrapped loosely in his, making sure he was able to let go and reach for the gear stick whenever he needed to. The roads along the coastline were fairly straight, only ever bending slightly and no sharp turns in sight.
With the road empty bar from the two of you, Harry snuck a glance over to you. Your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, hair windswept against the headrest and over your shoulders.
“I love you”, Harry said simply. It was no massive declaration, it didn’t have to be. You and Harry had been friends for 13 years, together for nearly 2. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember.
“I love you, too”.
-
Possessive hand holding
The first time you visited Harry in London was quite the nerve wracking experience. Aside from helping him move his stuff into his flat with Lux and Freezy, you’d barely seen him since he’d left the small island you both called home.
You waited by baggage claim, leg shaking with restless, nervous energy. It was just your luck that your suitcase was one of the last to make its way through and round the conveyor belt, the hall almost empty by the time you’d got your belongings.
Harry was waiting for you just outside arrivals, just as restless and nervous as you were. His eyes had been glued to the door from the minute you’d text him to let you know you’d reached baggage claim. Every person that walked out of the sliding doors that wasn’t you irritated him even further. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen you, and he was going mad.
At last, you trudged through the doors, looking a little worse for wear and incredibly pissed off. But you were there.
Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much”, he whispered into your hair. “The guys are already at my place, I hope that’s alright”, he told you. “They’re really excited to meet you”.
At Harry’s apartment building, he kept a tight hold on your hand as he led you upstairs. “Harry, it’s okay”, you assured him, squeezing his hand.
“Just nervous”, he told you.
Harry led you into the apartment, pausing for a second so you could drop your case by the door and kick your shoes off. His deathly tight grip on your hand never waned, like he was scared you were going to escape.
“Lads, Y/N”, Harry said awkwardly as he led you through the doorway. “Y/N, both of the Cals, Ethan, JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi and Vik”, he introduced, pointing to each man in turn as he said their names.
“Nice to meet you”, you smiled happily.
You sat next to Harry on the sofa, squeezed up against his side. His hand was still gripping onto yours, squeezing tighter whenever any of the guys started to talk to you. “Harry”, you whispered, wiggling your fingers in his grip. “What’s wrong?”.
“Someone looks a little jealous if you ask me”, Freezy poked, wicked grin shooting across the living room.
“Oh, give over”, you scoffed, flicking Harry in the chest. “You buffoon. There’s nothing to worry about. Now ease up, you’re cutting off blood flow to my fingers”, you teased.
-
Rubbing their thumb over the other’s hand 
“I don’t wanna leave”, you sighed, leaning further into Harry’s chest. “I miss you too much”, you whispered.
“I miss you, too”, he told you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you closer.
Harry watched over your shoulder as you opened your phone and pulled up flight times for a few weeks time, scrolling through them to find the cheapest option. Seeing Harry as often as possible was taking its toll on your finances and Harry knew you’d only accept so much help from him.
“What if this was the last time you flew home?”, Harry asked into your hair.
“What do you mean?”, you asked, thumb pausing over the screen.
“I spoke to Cal about it the other day, before you came”, Harry started. “How would you feel about moving to London?”, he asked.
You turned in his arms, facing Harry. “Are you being serious?”, you asked, a blossoming grin eager to bloom over your face.
“As I’ve ever been”, he whispered.
3 weeks later, you waited at the gate in Guernsey airport, surrounded by your family. “I’m so happy for you”, your mum whispered as she pulled you in for a tight hug. When she pulled back, you were both laughing through the tears that had begun to shed. “You and Harry deserve to be happy”, she told you.
They watched and waved as you walked towards the flight bridge, knowing that this would be the last time they’d see you for a while. You sat in your seat, watching as Guernsey got smaller and smaller below you. Although leaving home was never going to be an easy thing, you knew that you could build a home wherever Harry was.
You’d already shipped a lot of your stuff over to Harry, leaving you only to bring a large suitcase with you on your flight. You had no idea what to expect when you arrived, whether your stuff would be in Harry’s room or boxes strewn into whatever corner of the apartment they could fit into.
“Here”, Harry said as you sat in the car in the car park outside of the apartment building. He handed you a key on a keyring. “House keys”, he told you.
“Thank you”, you smiled
Harry pulled your case behind you as you walked up to the apartment. You stilled in front of the door, Harry pulling to a stop next to you. “Are you okay?”, Harry asked, voice filled with concern.
“Yeah”, you assured him quietly. “It’s just a lot, y’know”, you murmured.
“I know”. Harry’s thumb skimmed across the back of your hand in a soft, repetitive, soothing pattern. “I love you”, he reminded you, thumb never halting its soft reassurance against your skin.
“I know”, you smiled up at him. “But I love you more”.
-
Unconsciously searching for the other’s hand whilst asleep
If you were to ask Harry when he knew you’d be in his life forever, he’d have told you when the two of you were 5. Teasing from the other kids about you being best friends with each other was almost never-ending, but you and Harry always found a way to make light of it.
It wasn’t uncommon to see you and Harry playing with the dolls amongst the other little girls or racing around through the mud with the other boys. Everyone quickly learnt that where Harry went, you went and where you went, Harry went.
Harry knew you were going to be his bestest friend forever when he’d sat down on the grass to play and realised that there were no toys left. You’d come and sat down next to him and you’d played in the mud together, making daisy chains and mud pies and potions that you stirred with sticks, never caring about the dirt coating your pretty pinafore dress.
If you were to ask Harry when he knew that your relationship was meant to last, he would fumble and stumble over his words, not really knowing what to say. It was something that brought his friends great joy, asking what he saw in the future for the two of you. After all, you had been together since you were 15.
The night Harry realised you were his one great love was rather anti-climatic. There was no fireworks or mind-blowing kiss or Earth shattering sex. In fact, you were curled up asleep next to Harry, hair piled on top of your head and the hem of one of his Sidemen Clothing shirts riding up on your thigh.
He’d shut his computer down and gotten ready for bed, sliding in next to you as quietly as possible. Whilst he was lounging in bed next to you, attention focused on the screen of his phone, you’d started shifting beside him. Harry laid stock still, not wanting to wake you up with any movements.
Instead, you reached a hand across the bed, seemingly searching for something. When you couldn’t find whatever it was you were looking for, a frown settled itself onto your face. Harry was sure you were dreaming, but couldn’t resist closing the gap between your fingers and his.
The minute Harry hooked his fingers around yours, the frown on your face disappeared, replaced by a soft, blissful smile. Harry had known you long enough and knew you well enough to know that you were still fast asleep, the gentle sighs falling from your mouth being a dead giveaway.
So, if you asked Harry when he knew that your love was meant to last, he’d tell anyone that listened that it was the moment he realised you loved him even in your dreams.
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Our Little Secret
description: you and rudy have been sneaking around for a while now, what happens when you get caught in front of thousands of fans?😳😳
warnings: making out?? ooo and swearing oops (as a british person i can’t just NOT swear)
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            Rudy’s lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily as his arms snaked around your waist. You gasped, arms moving to hook around his neck as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You had to be on set in five, and you were just passing the time with your good friend Rudy in his trailer.
Between the two of you, neither of you were quite sure what you were. So far, all you guys had done was purely physical. Of course, there had been lingering touches, longing stares, stolen smiles. But you hadn’t talked about it. 
It had started with flirty jokes, and then, boom! It just kinda happened, if you were being honest.
Not breaking the kiss, the two of you stumbled backwards until you bumped into the table. You jumped up and he took his pace between your legs, detaching his lips from yours and turning his attention to the skin on your neck. You moaned, heading rolling back to give him more access.
“Hey, Rudy? You in there?” Your eyes widen at the voice outside the trailer door, freezing both yours and Rudy’s movements.
“Uh, yeah?” Rudy says, clearing his throat.
“Why’s the door locked, toot?” You could practically see the suggestive smirk on Chase’s face.
“Cause I’m about to take a shit and I didn’t want anyone to come in here and smell that,” Rudy replies, looking at you with a grin on his face. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, pressing your face up to it to suppress your laughter.
Chase laughs. “Alright, then, but have you seen Y/N? I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”
“Nah, sorry bro,” Rudy calls out when you shake your head at him. “I’ve gotta take this shit or I’ll explode. See you in a sec.”
“It’s good, bro,” Chase replies. “She’s gotta be on set now, though. I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. Probably went off to craft services or something.”
You glare at the door where Chase is stood on the other end, but your eyes widen wen you realise you’re gonna be late to set.
“Cya, man,” Rudy says, helping you down from the counter as you pat down your hair. Chase mumbles a “bye”.
You two wait until it’s clear, giving Rudy a quick peck as you subtlety sneak out the trailer door once you’re sure Chase is gone.
As you walk - more like jog - away, you look back. Through the window you salute to Rudy, and he salutes back with a maniacal grin on his perfect face.
You’ve just finished shooting for the day, and straight away, you headed over to see Rudy. He’d slid you a note earlier in the day to meet him at his trailer once you were done.
Arriving, you were immediately pulled into a kiss by by the blond headed bimbo who’d stolen your heart. You smiled against his lips, happily thinking about the fact that you could finally call him yours.
Around two weeks ago now you two had finally sorted through your shit and admitted your feelings for each other. However, you’d both decided it would be better if you kept your newfound relationship to yourselves. You didn’t want to make things awkward if it didn’t work out, and, besides, sneaking around was fun. “Think of it as our little secret,” you had said.
You pulled away from the kiss and he pouted. Laughing, you pecked him on the cheek and watched as a smile took over on his lips. Rudy’s arms situated themselves around your waist as he laid the two of you down on the makeshift sofa in his trailer.
Rudy was lying on your lap as you played with his hair, occasionally kissing him as some stupid ass movie played on the TV. It was a nice breather from all the crazy scenes you’d been filming and you couldn’t feel more relaxed.
Well, that was until there was a knock at the door. You wasted no time in rushing into the bathroom, hiding as Rudy went to answer the door.
“Yo, dude,” you hear JD greet and you mentally cuss him out.
“Uh, hey, JD, Maddie,” Rudy says. “What’s up?”
“Why’re you being so weird?” Maddie questions, confused as to why Rudy seemed hesitant about letting them in.
“Me?” Rudy asks, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not being weird.”
“Whatever,” Madison huffs. You hear her and JD walk in and mutter profanities under your breath. Thank god you had picked up your phone from the sofa or you would be toast. “We wanted to watch a movie and you have the comfiest couch.”
“What’re we watchin?” Rudy asks, bouncing on his heels. Madison shares a look with JD, confused as to what the hell was up with him.
“I dunno,” JD shrugs. “I gotta take a tinker in your bathroom, though. I’ll be right back.” He says, and your eyes widen.
“No!” Rudy calls out, and you search frantically for an escape route. There’s a window, but it’s kinda small, you’re not sure if you’d fit. Fuck it, you think as you hear JD and Mads confront Rudy about being weird.
“I just mean ... it’s kinda rank in there,” Rudy says, scratching the back of his neck.
“Disgusting,” Madison mutters.
“I’ll just block out the smell,” JD shrugs. “I’m desperate, bro.”
Rudy silently prays to himself as you fumble about the bathroom, climbing on top of the seat. You put one leg through the window as the footsteps land right outside the door, and  try to slyly maneuver yourself out with your phone in one hand. Your plan fails miserable and you tumble to the ground, landing in a bush.
“Fuck,” you mutter, sitting up and pulling leaves out your hair.
The door to the bathroom swings open and you run as fast as you can back to your own trailer. You ignore the confused looks of the crew members, and Drew calling your name as he sees you run past with twigs in your hair.
As soon as you get back to your trailer, you shoot Rudy a quick text.
I jumped out the window ;)
Jesus, Y/N. You good?
Yeah, just thank god for my super rad spy skills.
Sure, baby. Sure.
You giggle as Rudy pushes you down on your bed, peppering your skin with kisses, making you laugh more.
Filming had ended and you were currently quarantined with the cast, stuck in yours and Madelyn’s apartment. After the release of the show, you had gained quite a big fan base and your time had been occupied with online interviews and live streams. You’ve barely had the chance to sneak around with Rudy, not wanting to raise any suspicions since fans had already started shipping the two of you, pointing out the way he looks and interacts with you, and vice versa.
You didn’t want to let your friends catch on. Not yet.
Swiftly, you flip you and Rudy over, straddling him as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You must not have heard the footsteps creeping up to your room, or the door swing open as you kissed your boyfriend.
A quick shriek alerted you of someone’s presence. You scrambled away from Rudy, cheeks red and eyes wide. It was Madelyn, stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Clumsily, she dropped her phone, the object clattering to the floor
“Fuck,” Rudy mutters, pulling on his shirt as you put your hands over your face in attempt to hide you embarrassment.
Madelyn stands dead still, frozen to the spot. “Oh my god, guys, I am so so so sorry! I didn’t know you two were-”
By now, you had alerted the attention of Chase and Drew, who came running over at the sound of a scream. It didn’t take them long to connect the dots, between your rosy cheeks and swollen lips and Rudy’s messy hair and flustered appearance.
“Oh, shit,” Drew swore, eyes wide.
“Uh, guys ...” Madelyn spoke up, chuckling nervously. “I was on live and they saw ...” she motions between the two of you with her hands, “that.”
Honestly, you think you could’ve died, right then and there. You scramble to grab Maddie’s phone from the floor, seeing the comments screaming about what they had just accidentally witnessed and quickly end the live.
“I’m so sorry!” Maddie squeals, cheeks tinging red. “I was planning on scaring Y/N and I didn’t think Rudy would be in here, let alone that you two would be-”
You quickly cut her off, scratching the back of your neck and biting your lip. “It’s fine, Maddie. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah,” Rudy clears his throat. “You couldn't have known.”
“Uh, well,” Drew chuckles. “This is awkward.”
“Honestly, I’m gonna need a good few shots to erase the embarrassment of this moment from my memory,” you state, walking through the door and towards the kitchen where a bottle of vodka awaits you.
“I second that,” Rudy says, following you and lazily placing an arm around your waist.
Chase grins, watching the two off you. “So ... “ he trails off, gesturing between the two of you with his hand. “Are you two, yanno, together?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
You nod and Rudy smiles. “Yeah, we have been for a while now.”
“God, it’s about time!” Chase exclaims.
“You guys were pretty bad at hiding it,” Drew states, a grin of his own on his lips.
You mock fake offence, gasping as you poor the vodka into your shot glass. “We’ve been dating for four months, so, obviously not.” 
Madelyn’s mouth hangs open. “Four months?!” she yells. “And you didn’t tell us?”
Rudy shrugs, kissing your cheek fondly. “Eh, it was pretty fun sneaking around.”
“Agreed,” you say, smiling up at him. He meets your gaze, pecking you on the lips.
“Ew, you guys,” Chase groans. “Just because you’re together now doesn’t mean you can be all openly affectionate.”
Madelyn whacks his arm, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, they’re cute.”
“Nah, they’re gross,” Drew jokes, laughing. “Anyway, I made Mama Starkey’s casserole. Who wants some?”
“Me!” you exclaim, grinning excitedly. If there was one thing you loved it was Mama Starkey’s chicken casserole. Also, eating and drinking would be a good way to get your mind off the fact that practically the entire world saw you on top of a shirtless Rudy, making out with him.
A/N: AHAHAH THE WAY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS SHDJSHJDH also pls excuse the crappy writing this was made at 4am last night😳
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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years
Note
For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️
Here you go!
13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine
The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.
Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.
He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.
“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”
“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”
A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”
Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”
That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”
The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.
Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.
He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.
“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”
“Yes, Seer Cold.”
“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.
Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.
“This is amazing.”
“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”
“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”
“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.
Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.
-----------------------------------------------------
For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.
On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.
“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”
“Uh….”
“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”
“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”
“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”
“I gotta wear anything special?”
“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”
The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.
“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”
“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”
“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”
Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”
The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”
Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.
Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.
He’s really quite stunning.
“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”
“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.
Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”
“What’s the crisis?”
“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”
“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”
Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”
“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”
“Why did you feel differently?”
He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”
“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”
-----------------------------------------------
“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”
“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”
“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”
“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”
“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”
“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”
Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
----------------------------------------------
“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.
“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.
“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.
“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”
“You know it.”
Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.
“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”
-----------------------------------------------
They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.
He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.
Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.
“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.
“Kinda.”
“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”
“Wh-”
Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”
“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”
“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”
“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”
“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”
“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.
The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.
When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.
Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.
“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”
“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”
Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”
“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”
“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”
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charliehoennam · 3 years
Text
in the dark - prelude
A/N: Absolutely no one asked for this. It was supposed to be just a drabble and it turned into a long ass prelude to In The Dark because I can’t contain myself 😁byeeeeeeee! If you liked my work, please show support by reblogging. Thank you.
Warnings: 18 & over only!  (the length of this should probably be including here y’all) NSFW; mature content; cursing and adult language; slightly non-consensual and explicit sexual acts; mentions of death, cancer, pregnancy, ptsd, dominance and traditional spousal roles(?),unprotected sex, size-kink, cock-warming, internal ejaculation, cum play, dominance, impact play and voyeurism. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know. Feedback and requests are always welcome.
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader
Word count: 6,740 
Part 1: In the Dark 
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It wasn’t snooping. You were not snooping. You had no intention of finding that letter and to be quite frank, part of you wished you never did. That part wanted to simply pretend like it was nothing, that it wasn’t any of your business. Whatever it was, if you were supposed to know, Alfie would’ve told you. Your curiosity, on the other hand, would never sit at ease.
Scrutinizing your surroundings, confused and at a lost for explanations, your eyes came across a half-written letter on his typewriter. At first, you thought nothing of it. Until the letters jumped off the paper, snatching your attention like hungry piranhas.
“Last will and testament?” you muttered to yourself. Your eyes dart to the side in wonder, landing on a note written by Alfie’s own hand. Fine-lined scribbles with a date, a time and the name Belle. A name you had never heard your husband mention before.
As far as you knew, Alfie had no reason to be worried about that stuff. Why would he be updating his will? A chill swept swiftly along the trail of your spine. Your hairs stood tall and alert, tiny goosebumps rising to the call of worry echoing from the depths of your core. Limbs cold as if the air had dropped suddenly in temperature and frozen them to the bone. You stared at the desk, trying to make sense of what exactly Alfie was hiding and why.
All you were searching for was a pen. Hardly ever did you enter Alfie’s study, but you figured there must’ve been one on his desk. The faint voice of your friend echoed through the hall in search of you, calling you back to reality. You arduously swallowed the lump in your throat and tried your hardest to calm yourself enough to see your friend out with a requested address to a suggested tailor. All you could do now was wait.
It was well after dusk when Alfie arrived. Lapis blue light filled the room through the tall window, darkening the corners as night began to fall. The rumbling engine of his car gave him away, with a loud click of the car door following close behind once the engine died. Keys jingling as he unlocks the front door. The soles of his shoes scuffing against the wooden floorboards as he shuffles inside. The groan of relief and gratitude to be home as he peels off the long charcoal coat, still drenched in the scents of his routine and workplace. Like a song you knew every word to, every note and every pitch.
“Are you having an affair?” you spat out. The front door had barely been closed, his hands even paused in their movements still attached to the collar of his coat. Impatiently, Alfie craned his neck to peak at you perched in the living room.
“Evening to you as well, love.” His words had no authenticity. The bewilderment on his face proved he thought of something else to say, but quickly decided not to. His shoulders - heavy with the burdens of his exhaustingly long day – straightened as he hung the heavy garment near the door.
“I had a lovely day myself, thank you for asking.” Sarcasm could drip from his words like melting wax from a candle, lit with mockery.
“Fuck off with that, Alf. Be honest with me. I was in your study. I found your will and this note bes-“
“Oh, you’ve gone snooping about again, did ya? That’s what this is about?”
“I was not snooping! Elizabeth was here this morning and wanted the address of my tailor. I was looking for something to write it- you know, that’s not the point! This is our house and I can snoop if I bloody well please. The point is, my own husband is still keeping things from me, with absolutely no concern about leaving me in the dark.”
“Right, right. So are you going to show me what the mysterious note you’ve found ey?”
You were sat calmly on the couch as he approached up the hall. From your armchair, you could clearly straight at the door. It was Alfie’s favorite seat precisely for that reason. With its' back to a wall and clear vision of the front entrance, he could feel safe enough to allow himself a bit of leisure; a small thin slice of peace of mind to enjoy the company of his home and family whilst staying ever alert as if he were still in some sort of battlefield in his mind. Wars aren’t easily forgotten by the ones on the front lines and though he was indeed home, he still lived in the murky mental swamps of warfare.
“Who is Belle?” You held up the unfolded note, pressed between the tips of your index and middle fingers. You tried your best to keep the calm facade that neither you nor Alfie were really buying. He could almost hear your blood boil with jealously at a steady pace underneath your skin like water in a pot. But instead of spilling over and making a mess of things you’d regret, you opted to turn the fire off for the time being because you were surely not the jealous kind of woman. Well… you would die before you ever admitted it at least. You trusted Alfie; you were the only one he truly committed his fidelity to. Other women have tried before to sway this commitment and he always proved loyal. 
“You’ve never mentioned any Belle to me before and I’d like to know why you’ve kept this person a secret from me. I know everyone in your life, Alfie. And as your wife and mother of our son, I strongly believe I am entitled to the truth even if it is an af-“
“Y/N, I’ve got cancer.”
The words just rolled off his tongue in a tired huff as he slid his suspenders down to hang from his hips, too tired to extend the conversation into an argument. The small pause he gave felt like the calm before the storm of thoughts trampling through your mind. How could he be so calm about this? How long has he known? Why didn’t he tell you?
“Belle is a doctor. Went and saw him to fix my snoring, right, told him I feel like I make my lady uncomfortable. Doc checks me out and says ‘Son, it ain’t your nose. It’s your fucking lungs, mate.’ Showed me a picture and all. You’d think I’d be struck saddened by the news. I was desolate indeed, yes. For the unfortunate fact that my dreadful snoring remains incurable. Nothing to do ‘bout that. Then came the crippling realization of the reality I believed I could alter to my own preference in order to omit the truth from you. I’d have to tell you sooner or later. Just hoped it’d go away before I had to tell you.” Or that he wouldn’t have made it this far.
Alfie always had a causal way with words. In spite of his usually calm surface, it was fear that haunted him but he would never admit it. Many nights of peaceful sleep did it steal from him. He never had so much to lose before until he met you. Until he fell under over heels for you and begun a family with you. He couldn’t less about what happened to him. The fear he felt was for things he couldn’t control, avoid or protect. He understood karma would eventually work itself around to find him.  There was nowhere to hide from it, so he had to be sure you and your family would be well taken care of. How could he tell you? How could he lay such a burden on such innocent shoulders? It was unfair to make you carry his cross.
You sat silent in shock, trying to scramble through the mental whirlwind of questions to ask first. The tears brimmed effortlessly in your eyes and quickly raced down your cheeks down to your quivering lips. If before you felt like the floor had been ripped out from under your feet to fall endlessly in a chasm of doubt and worry, now you had finally reached the pit landing sharply on your back and forcing all air from your lungs. Tightly constricted in the cold grasp of reality and its heavy coils of inevitable truth. Alfie’s line of work only increased the chances of early eternal rest, but he was finally preparing for retirement so you could live on with your loving husband. The queen and king finally resting together in the comfort of their fortress. But, stone by stone, it felt like your cozy fortress was beginning to tumble down.
“H-How could you keep that from me, Alfie?”
“I was trying to avoid that very same look you got on. You know very well I do not appreciate seeing you cry, much less being the cause of your tears.”
You weren’t really sure how to respond with such dispiriting candor thrust onto you so blatantly. You obviously prepared yourself to hear something unpleasant but the initial worry you had seemed so silly and immature now, under the grave circumstances. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions all at once. Or bombard him with tears and risk seeding any more guilt than he always had over something so out of his control. The best thing you could do is assure him your feelings and devotion would remain impeccably intact as it always had been. That no matter what, you would love him just as much as the first day and stay by his side through the turbulent waters. Jumping ship was never a considerable option. So you toughened through your tears as you stood to your feet to meet your husband. Your hands instinctively reached for his waist; his, for your hip. He towered over you as he planted his fingertips to the side of your neck. Stern eyes, furrowed brows and lips pressed together. Calm on the outside but on the in, he was beating himself up for making you cry.
“I-I happen to like the man that you are, Alf. A-and in honesty, the snoring never bothered me. I’d rather hear you snore than the silence. When it’s silent, the bed is- is usually empty and cold because you’re not there. Having spent too many nights in such manners, I’ve grown very fond of your snoring. And I can’t sleep without it.”
“Fuck, love. Don’t cry... I won’t be pushing up daisies for a very long time. ‘Til then you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“How long have you known?” you ask, tenderized under his touch.
“A few weeks... It’s not really as bad as it seems, love. I’m going through treatment already.”
“We go through this together, alright? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about things. Especially when it concerns your health.”
He sighed with a nod of his head; it was the closest to a yes that you were going to get from him.
“I know we’re not letting this go and I don’t mean to seem like I’m taking this lightly. But I am starved and I can fucking taste the brisket in the kitchen so can we please discuss this over dinner, ey?”
You nodded in agreement though you weren’t really hungry at this point.  The stress and worry from the whole day accumulated in your stomach like a heavy ball of iron. What you really wanted to do is run upstairs and scream into your pillow, bawling in tears. But every minute you spend with him just became so much more precious than it already was. He won’t want anything to change between you. He knew you’d worry more than usual and take precautions to avoid worsening his condition; accompany him on his treatment and appointments, always providing ever-lasting support. Dependable as ever, he had never loved you more. Although you were thankful for his honesty, he knew it would change things. He could feel like it tightening in his chest and throat, the overwhelming distention rising conflict in his thoughts. His fate was defined and sealed, but his infatuation for you had grown so great for him to allow you to witness him withering away to pain and misery. He refused to hurt you with the doom destined for him. You took him into your arms, hugging him as if it were the last time you could take in his scent and warmth. But there was still an unease lurking within. You know the man you married all too well. You almost see the little cogs and gears rotating against one another behind his silvery pale blue orbs, churning to concoct his plan. Alfie always has a plan.
Today was a different day. A day for happiness and celebration. Your little sweet Isaac was celebrating his 3rd birthday. There was no room for worries or sadness or burdens. Today had to be perfect. Just happiness and peace for your son. The type of day that makes you feel glad you’d live long enough to experience every moment so vividly, forever etching itself into the murals of memories in your mind. And it begun when you awoke, enveloped in Alfie’s embrace. Lying on your front, he had his arm lazily stretched and his head planted at the top of your spine. The hairs of his beard scratched and prickled against the delicate skin there, reminding you of his presence so close. His leg draped over yours and intertwined as if he’d been claiming territory in his dreams, guarding precious treasure with his own flesh.
Mornings like these were so rare between you. By this time, Alfie would’ve already been up and pacing around the room, rummaging quietly to avoid waking you. Mumbling to himself as always, but hushed and low to allow his missus the slumber he wished he could indulge himself with. You’d quickly be up on your feet once you heard him bustling out from the bathroom and into the bedroom despite his efforts to be as quiet as a mouse. He’d apologize and plead for you to go back to sleep, insist that you rest comfortably but you would always ignore him and head downstairs in your pearly white silk robe to enjoy a family breakfast with your boys. Gathering around the table as family had become routine and an important part of everyone’s day. But there was always a bitterness to the sweet moments in the morning. A voice always echoing faintly in whispers, blowing through the halls of your subconscious like an ancient curse.
“What if this is the last time I see him?”
The question always lingered in the dusty corners of your mind, glittering like a trinket on a shelf to remind you of its presence occasionally. When you agreed to marrying Alfie, you knew the price you’d pay for entering the dark waters of his world would involve a change your lifestyle; one you’d welcome at the cost of being his. He’d need you with the children where he could be always certain they were safe. Heavily guarded with his most trustful men and staff, your home was far from a prison or a cage. It was a castle you both needed to protect. So, he did what he figured would be right; taught you everything you needed to know about guns. How to use them, how to clean them. Safety on, safety off. Mount and dismount. Pistols, rifles, shotguns. He showed them all, kept them hidden throughout the house in secret compartments and made sure you knew how to use them. You prayed you never had to, but you couldn’t deny the surge of power you felt shooting his wartime favorite Lee-Enfield. And you had one hell of an aim. Definitely better than Alfie’s. More than just self-defense, he taught the ways of his business. Taught you everything from how to spot paste in jewelry to his mother’s secret recipe to her famous sourdough bread. Yes, you had to know. He insisted on it. He wouldn’t be around forever; teaching you the ways of his businesses was absolutely fundamental, not because he wanted them to go on after his death. Because he wanted to ensure you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone other than your own two feet.
His fingers were firmly laced with yours; you couldn’t fight the beaming grin curling onto your lips. Though he was still fast asleep – the mild snoring that had woken you up as it grew louder being the sign of his deepening slumber – it was evident, at some point in the early dawn of the day, he awoke for a moment and purposely intertwined your hands together and remained that way. Locked and entangled in the comfort of the warm subconscious acknowledgement of your presence ever-near, radiating against his own heat. In the sounds of your quiet breaths inflating your chest and the faint thumping beneath your bones and flesh, he found true comfort and safety. Close and bare, sheltered in the sweet quiet cocoon of your matinal love. Untouched and forsaken by even time itself. The warmth of his body seemed to seep through your pores and into your veins, coursing itself to every inch of your body. You stared at your hands clasped tightly together and took the time to mentally thank the universe and whatever merciful entity that allowed you such a blessing. His fingers thick and calloused compared to yours; the gold bands on your ring fingers gleaming the pale morning light.
The sun was beginning to rise and you could feel the summer air slowly invading the chilly room. Your leg and arm had begun to go numb from his crushing weight. Your husband was strong and well-built growing up on the harsh streets in his early days, but he certainly wasn’t light as a feather now. The sedentary lifestyle over the years and warm pastries shared with you over midnight tea had a hand in changing that. Yet you decided to endure the numbness a little longer, brushing his knuckles back and over again with the pad of your thumb. The volume of the world’s chaos diminishing with every gentle stroke with the exception of Alfie’s snoring but, at the level into your marriage, it had been a lullaby.
You’d recently moved into the new house in Margate and it was everything you could ever want. Alfie loved you unconditionally and spoiled you rotten, there was no price too high to limit his spending until you set your foot down and reminded him how the money should be wisely invested into your future: the family you’d both been planning to have instead of being wasted on jewels and dresses you didn’t need. However, you did both make an exception for lingerie. So Alfie naturally being Alfie found himself the largest house he could find nearest to the ocean. You loved the ocean. Aware of the market value he offered the previous owner to sell it to him for a wealthy amount well above market price. He may have aggressively persuaded, stalked and made the owner’s life hell until he finally accepted but Alfie could only think about everything he’s worked for. A peaceful retirement, his family and old age; free from any financial worry knowing his family would be very well set for the years to follow. Growing up, Alfie had the opposite of that after his father’s abandonment and he promised himself he’d be the opposite. That his own family would be well provided for by a loving father and husband like the man his father never was.
Of course, once you discovered how the house had come into his possession, he was sure you would’ve feasted on his liver after murdering him. There had been few times where your beloved had felt real fear and that moment was one to go down in the books. The deed had already been done and it took you a very long while to come to terms with what couldn’t be undone. And after much making up for and gentle persuasion, you figured it was yours now. Might as well live in it. “The money’s already gone anyway”, you told yourself.
But lying under his heavy warmth, you were secretly glad he insisted. The waves faintly splashed outside, nearly lulling you back to sleep with every pull of the ocean. It wasn’t until your lullaby was interrupted by Alfie’s incomprehensible grumbling about his sciatica – the only word you were able to catch. His grip on your hand tightened as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, refusing to get up and away from you.
“Long you been awake, love?”
“Couple hours.”
“You been under me for hours? You poor thing. Shoulda pushed me off ya, love. I wouldn’t ‘ave mind.”
“I would’ve.” You smiled feeling his soft lips press against your back.
“You like when I’m on top of ya, naughty girl?” he teased, rolling off the top of you to let you breathe again.
“Oh, I adore it. I love your weight on top of me, pinning me down to the mattress.” Two can play this game, my dear Alf. “But I do enjoy being on top sometimes.”
He smirked tiredly turning his head to gaze at you. You shift, still on your front but now on your other side to face him.
“Do you? You never mentioned it before.”
“I assumed you liked being on top all the time, love.”
“I do love pounding you like a fucking drill, I’ll tell you that.” He grinned reaching over to palm the curve of your behind. His palm swept up and down gently, delving his fingertips into the valley between your cheeks; dangerously creeping closer to the plush lips of your mound. “But you know what I also enjoy? Watching you ride me… Yeah, that makes me wild, love. Like a fucking goddess. A face and a body that put Hathor, Aphrodite, Venus and Freya and any other fucking goddess that dare compete with you all to fucking shame.”
“That’s quite a flattering statement, Alf.” you grinned, cheeks blushing pink.
“It’s the truth.”
“So you like it when I get on top of you huh?” You smirked slowly crawling to straddle his hips. He knew you were up to something and hoped it had something to do with the events of the night before. “Like this?” you questioned. With your back arched, you slithered your hands behind you. One planted itself on his thigh to provide balance; the other began palming his sex, forcing a groan out of him.
“Bloody fucking hell, love. Just like that.” You could see his breathing already adjusting to the new pace of the pleasure slowly building up.
“You like it when I’m all on display for you, Alfie? I happen to like this position very much myself.” You chuckled with a wide smile watching his welcoming reaction, his cock twitching under your touch.
“Why’s that, sweetie?”
“Because you know I love to play with your cock. I have more diversity this way. I can play with my hands, just like this. With my cute little bum and my sweet tight cunt.”
“That so? Well, why don’t you demonstrate for us, sweetie?” He smirked breathing heavier with every word. You could already feel his secretion leaking from his tip, coating his hardening member. His hands were all over you, squeezing whatever he could touch. Your plush breasts; your silky thighs; your fleshy tush. The pale blue orbs grew black, encompassed with his dilated pupils. Full of desire and lust.
You smiled as you slip your fingers past your lips, tasting him on your digits as they swirled around your mouth. He locked his gaze on your lips, watching them pucker as you sucked on your fingers to gather saliva before sliding them down your sex. His eyes instantly followed your fingers to watch them work. Your knees spread slightly to show him the full view and you could’ve sworn he had never looked hungrier than now, desperate to bury his face between your lips and taste the “sweetest fruit God ever made’ as he called it. You loved the madness in his eyes, a craziness that twinkled in their gleam just for you.
“Fuck me, love… you look so fucking beautiful, look at ya. Look at that little cunt. All bloody wet for my cock already. Keep going, sweetie. I love this show of yours.” He praised endlessly. His hands took over soon after watching you finger yourself. They sat on your hips while he used his thumbs to part your folds. His favorite little toy which he loved to take his time to appreciate. “Listen to that cunt. Just fucking drenched, aren’t ya? Music to my fucking ears, that is.” You giggled watching him stare in awe, fiddling with your pussy. Moans and whimpers elicited from you as you rolled your hips slowly into his hands. God, you were such a whore for him and you loved it just as much as he did. He alternated from spreading you wide open, smothering your wetness until you were covered in your mess, to pinching his thumbs together to squeeze the meaty flesh together, pressuring your clit without directly touching it. He was torturing you purely for his own entertainment. Teeth clenched to his bottom lip as he moaned, half laughing in fascination almost as if in a trance, hypnotized by your body.“So good to me, love… Fucking  sodden for me, ey? Look at that fucking mess. Get up here, on my face. Right now. Gimme a little taste, won’t you?”
You’d be a fool not to obey his wish. Alfie loved tasting you and he was more than extraordinary at it. His movement was rather limited due to the injuries he’d sustained in the war, but what he lacked in agility he made up for in oral practice. He didn’t really see it that way. He didn’t do it just to make up for anything; he just fucking loved burying his mouth between your velvet lips, probing his tongue into your hole and devouring you like you were his last meal. And he was never content with just forcing the orgasm out of you. He wasn’t content until you were a trembling mess with tears streaming from your eyes from the intensity of your climax. Sometimes, he’d hold your hips down and fuck you with his fingers until you were squirting for him. That was the ultimate prize for him. The bigger the mess, the happier he was.
Curses spewed from your tongue when he held your pussy to his mouth. You squirmed and wriggled but his arms locked around your hips, holding you in place firmly as he lapped up all your juices only to wring more out of you. His beard brushing roughly against your sensitive skin, adding the perfect contrast that you needed. He could not get enough. He knew your cunt like he had a map of it and within minutes, your room was filled with pathetic moans and whimpers of his name repeating over and over again. The sweet addictive tension built in your core finally unraveling at the tip of his tongue. His nose shoved against your clit and huffed warmly as he hummed to himself, vibrations reverberating into you. A low dark chuckle as he shook his head side to side, sucking intensively on your already overly sensitive button which he released with a loud pop. He filled his hand with your mound to roughly squeeze and jiggle the swollen flesh for his own amusement; a couple of stinging wet slaps following close after and a slow gentle one-handed massage. Two fingers slid up each of your outer lips, middle finger nestling itself up between the inner with his fingertip on your clit. He kneaded the tender flesh for a few moments with a dirty smirk and a chuckle, easing you down from your high. He takes so much fucking care of you in every possible way he can.
“Fucking ‘ell, love. Taste like fucking paradise. Sweetest cunt in the world and it’s all fucking mine, innit?” You grinned panting softly as your hips slid down to meet his, leaning down to take his lips in a greedy kiss.
“Yes, Alfie. My cunt is all yours to play with. But I think it’s my turn to play too, don’t you think?”
“You wanna play with my cock? Fine by me, love. Play on.”
Easing your hips down, you carefully lifted his throbbing cock back against his abdomen and pressed your folds against the underside. Earning a deep growl from him, you slowly moved your hips back and forth. A darkness suddenly veiled his eyes as he understood your game. A gleam shining differently from before when his head was buried between your thighs. Brows dropped instantly into a stern frown; eyes wide as he held his breath and stiffened his body, watching you intently like a predator. A hunter rising to self-defense instinctively. Though you were on top of him, he felt it was his mouth that had control of you. He wasn’t wrong, but the power dynamics had shifted. Now you had power over him; you had control of his cock and his orgasm. All he could do now was watch your folds spread around his thickness, lubricating him with your wetness as you ground yourself against his cock. The sensation and the view of your slick lips enveloped around his cock was riveting to him; hypnotized him in a different way. Like he was entirely paralyzed and his cock was a joystick only you could use to control him. This was the true reason why you secretly loved being on top.
“See? I can play with your cock like this. Do you like that, Alfie? That feel nice on you?”
“Fucking blissful, sweetheart. Just like that, on the head-“ he held his breath in before releasing it with a long moan as your folds enclosed around the end of his shaft, head peeking out from under your overlapping lips after every glide of your hips. Palms flat on his broad furry chest, sinking against the rapid beating of his heart while his gripped your thighs so firmly, you were certain they’d leave bruises.  “Fuck, love. Let me in ya, yeah? I’m not above begging.”
“You want my pussy, sweetie? Is that it? Let me hear you, Alf.”
“I’ll say whatever you want, sweetie. Please… I fucking need you.” He pleaded impatiently
“Use your words, love.” You breathed heavily, smirking down at him. You wanted to show him you were honestly relishing in how easily you could make him come undone just as he’d previously done to you. “Tell me what you want ey? My pussy is right here, all nice and wet and tight for you.”
“I’m fucking begging here, love! Quit your gaming and let me fuck your cunt!”
“Manners maketh man, Alfie.” You grinned wickedly, watching the despair and need grow in his eyes.
“Please let me fuck your fucking cunt before I go fucking blind.”
His words came out with a snarling rage as he propped his elbows up behind him, balling the sheets into his fists to avoid hurting you too much from his selfish craving for release. You didn’t need much to know he was really fighting to hold back from imploding on himself. The sturdiness and throbbing of his cock made it evident. Figuring he’d been tortured enough, you obeyed his desire and slid onto his cock to ride him slowly at first, building your agonizing slow pace. Propped up with your hands on his legs, he spread your knees apart to expose more of you to his eye while you leaned back for him. Thanks to the painting done by his tongue, you were slick with readiness for him. The slaps of skin soon began to echo throughout your room. At this point, you couldn’t care less who heard you. It was your home after all. And Alfie was beyond desperate for his sexual release. All you could think about was him right now and what he needed from you. His hand latched onto your mound, teasing your sensitive nub by circling it and swiping the pad of his thumb side to side as your cheeks slapped hard against his groin. Your skin felt like fire. Tiny beads of sweat begun to form at your hairline, trickling down your temples and seeped the delicate hairs surrounded your face. The air was humid against your hot skin and filled with the scent of your active bodies churning together like cogs in a machine, building pressure in your core with every thrust.
“You look so beautiful just like this, love. Bouncing on my fucking cock like a good little angel. Love taking it deep, don’t ya?” he hissed reaching a hand up to grope your breast one at a time. The pinching on your hardened nipples sent electricity sparking up your spine, forcing it to arch into his touch. His hands crept slowly up you like a snake slithering around your chest as it worked itself to coil around your neck while the other pushed two fingers into your mouth, driving them in and out as you eagerly sucked them as if they could substitute his delicious cock.
“You are such a good wife to me, love. Take good fucking care of your husband.” He grunted. “You like being a good wife for me huh?”
“I-I fucking love it, Alfie.” You panted. You wished you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were. “Cum in me, won’t you? Spill i-it all deep inside me, Alf.”
“C’mere, love. Let me take care of you. I know just what you need” he moaned. With a hand on the back of your neck, he gently pulled you down to kiss you feverishly and took a moment to just stop and feel the warm tight hug of your pussy around his cock. “I got you now, love.”he whispered against your lips. His arms circled around your silhouette, locking his grip to hold you firmly in place as he adjusted his footing. The lifting of his hips up into yours pushed you fall with your face flat against his chest and he got straight to it. The combination of his hips thrusting violently into you and his unyielding grasp on your frame left no room for air in your lungs. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes; gasps for air grew shorter as he pounded them right out of your ribs. All you could do was take it; endure the frantic hammering until you could no longer string any syllables together to form a single word. Your body twitched in white hot heat, convulsing in his airtight hold to his body with the tsunami wave of your orgasm that swelled instantly when you felt him coating your walls. The growls from his throats were inhumane. This was something else. It was primitive. Any streak of decency was stripped from the pair of you. All that was left was the hungry need to be downright filthy; completely void of control. You were possessed with something beyond this world, a desire so carnal and primal that took hold of you and claimed your bodies. Once you felt his arms loosen a bit, you pushed your torso up to lean back and slowly lift your hips up until he was fully out of your hole, admiring his load as it oozed out.
“So fucking lovely and wet, you’re dripping all over me. Making a fucking mess in our bed huh? You know I love a good mess, ey?” He smiled devilishly as he pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering the white creamy load to shove it back inside your pussy. “Can’t let it go to waste, love. Keep it ya?”
“Yes, my love.” You giggled delighted with his fascination while you continued to toy with his cock, slowly easing down on it and then back off and back down until he bottomed out. “I love keeping your cock warm. Have to make sure your seed is buried deep in me.”
“Looks like you’re gonna get that baby you’ve been hounding me for.” He laughed, catching his breathe as you peppered his neck with kisses and teased him for a second go at it. He had promised to give you another child, one to play with your young Isaac. You remained on on his chest for a long moment, fiddling with the tuffs of light brown hairs and endlessly chatting about your future second child; about your much-appreciated techniques and outstanding performance in bed; about the plans you had to celebrate Isaac’s birthday throughout the day. Lounging in each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s bodies lovingly. That was until you heard the cries of your little tot calling for his mother. You were instantly up on your feet clothing yourself with your robe, rushing down the hall to your son’s aid.
You spent the day on the beach as planned. The sun was delightfully hot on your skin; sand was warm enough for you to comfortably walk barefoot on. Isaac seemed to enjoy it very much. It was the first time he’d seen the ocean; the first time he’d wiggled his tiny toes into the sand, giggling at the tickling grains. Alfie – being the proud father that he was – couldn’t tear his eyes away from the joy that lit up his son’s eyes. He would never forget that day. Neither of you would. The excited squeals from your young curious child as you both held his hands, helping him leap over the small waves on the shore; your white sundress flowing loosely in the breeze along with your hair; sudden whiffs of the scent of your perfume caught in the wind – the very fragrance that would remind him of that day every time you wore it; Cyril’s grunting as he happily waddled in the water, only to shake off the excess right in front of you three when you sat on a blanket to enjoy the tasteful treats you had prepared.
Isaac went on building sand castles with Alfie’s help and you watched, thinking how lucky you were to have them in your life; about what you had done to possibly deserve a man like his husband. It wasn’t long until he washed the sand from his hands before sitting down, nestling himself between your legs. With his back resting against your front, he brushed his palms over your legs as your fingers combed through his hair while you peacefully watched your son.
“You know something, sweetie? I really do hope you have another child already in your belly.” He was never really hesitant in the first place. Just didn’t necessarily think about it too hard. “It’ll happen when it’ll happen”, he’d say. It was for the best, to preserve your initmate moments together instead of turning into a daily duty with the failing objective of getting pregnant. 
“Why’s that, love?”
“Look at our boy… He’s beautiful and so happy. I think he’d like to have a little brother or sister to play with. Or maybe both.”
“Does that mean what I think it means? Are we officially trying for another?” you smile widely.
“Love, after this morning, I doubt we’ll have to try.”
You chuckled and lounged under the sun, watching the ships and waves rolling in and out. Silence fell among as he closed his eyes to relax. You’d promised yourself there’d be no room for sadness today, but you couldn’t get it off your mind. It haunted you constantly, the thought of not having your Alfie near anymore. You wished you could silence that annoying reminder for good, but it involved someone you loved very dearly and, being his wife for so long, you knew what this was. Just the calm before the storm. You didn’t know when it would hit or what the gravity of its’ consequences would be in the aftermath. What you did know unfortunately was that no moment, no matter good or peaceful, can last forever. All good things must always come to end.
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forlornmelody · 3 years
Text
The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy
Rating: T (suggestive themes, cartoon violence)
Fandom(s): DC Comics
Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Linkage: Ao3
Summary:   Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.
Note:  Commission for @rookie009
~*~*~*
“You’re probably wondering Mr---Watchman--”
“Tockman.” Mr. Watchman spits. “William Tockman.”
“Why I’ve brought you here today.”
Mr. Watchman rolls his eyes. “I imagine you’re going to tell me.” 
“Ah! Good. You’ve stopped struggling. Progress, Mister!” Harley boops him on the nose. Maybe she made the binding too tight? “I’m not cutting off your circulation, am I?” She leans in close. “Are you comfortable? I need you comfortable.” 
“I’m tied up in ropes, wench!”
“Ah, see! This is what I’m talking about!” Harley sits across from him and his fainting couch, pulling her pen from her bun and making a heading on her notepad. “You have a whore madonna complex.” Chewing her pen, she murmurs, “perhaps from the trauma of your wife’s death? Cystic Fibrosis, was it?”
Her new patient says nothing. “Mister?” Harley glances up. “Willy?”
“Help!” William Tockman dangles from his left ankle, suspended in air by a beefy vine.  “She’s gonna kill me!” 
“Oh please. You’re hardly worth the trouble.” Ivy steps around him and the vine, brushing the dust off her hands. “Hi Harls!” How she got the vines up this far on this abandoned apartment building, Harley has no idea. But it sure has a lot of brick to climb. 
“Ivy!” Harley doesn’t so much as hug her as ram her at full speed. 
Her target, used to such behavior by now, braces for impact and manages to hug back. Harley takes a big whiff. “Mm. Jasmine?”
“Lilacs.” Ivy peers over at Clock King. “You...uh, busy?”
“Mm yeah. A little tied up at the moment. Or he is, at least.”
“So I see.” Ivy chews her lip, staring out the window as if she had left a reminder there. She makes a face as the draft stirs some of the painting tarp discarded on the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of town for a bit.”
“HELP.” 
“Are you asking for help, Billy? Or do you prefer Willy?”
“HELP ME! THESE WOMEN ARE CRAZY.” 
“Great!” Harley says brightly. “Admitting you need help is the first step towards healing!”
“Harls? Are you even listening?”
“You need help dismantling another CEO along with his company?”
“No.”
“Fundraiser for conservation efforts?”
“Harley--”
“Pride pre-game with Kitty?”
“Harleen.” That stops Harley short. Ivy never calls her that. Mostly cause she hates getting called Pamela with an undying passion. Probably childhood trauma. But Harley digresses. 
Ivy sighs. “Sorry. Look. I need a vacation. We need a vacation.”
“I need help!” 
“SHUT UP ALREADY.” Ivy and Harley say it together, and Ivy waves a hand, muffling Harley’s captive, er, patient with a particularly broad leaf. 
“Mm... I’m a little busy--”
Ivy glances at Tockman, finally. “I can see that.”
“Lemme look at my calendar. Mmm.. maybe...next year? Definitely the one after that.”
“Harls.”
“I know, I know. But there’s my derby team, missions with Task Force X, the Birds of Prey, my day job--”
“I know.” Ivy takes her hands, gently, and squeezes them. It’s the softness that stops Harley in her tracks. “It’s why you need some time off.”
“But--”
“Shh. I already have plane tickets and a hotel booked. You don’t have to plan a thing.”
Harley can’t help the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Aww, shucks, Ives. When are we leaving?”
“Now. The plane’s departing in--shit. We gotta go.”
“MMRPH.” 
“Oh, right.” Ivy releases Clock King with a patented thud as she shoves Harley out the door. “Bye!”
-----
“So, we’re we goin’?” Harley pushes the arm rest out of the way and rests her chin on Ivy’s shoulder. She glances at Ivy’s phone as if it’ll give her some clues. She spots a sudoku puzzle. “Japan?”
“No.”
“The Amazon?”
“Nope.”
“Themyscyra?” 
Ivy gives her a look. “Really?”
“Er….my mom’s? Please say it’s not my mom’s.”
“It’s not your mom’s.”
“Thank God.”
“Also, why would we fly to your mom’s house when we could easily drive? Or take a commuter bus?”
“Good point. Mm.”
Ivy smooths Harley’s hair out of her eyes. “It’s a surprise.” She snatches a quick kiss before the flight attendant rolls by. “You’ll love it.”
In this moment, Harley’s pretty sure she’d love anywhere as long Ivy’s there with her. She’s lit up by the light of the tiny window behind her, and her crimson locks glow like an angel’s. But Harley knows well enough that neither of them are anywhere close to innocent. “Say, how’d you get us past security?”
Ivy winks at her. 
“No casualties?”
Her lover mockingly brushes her own chest like a scandalized church mouse. “I would never!” she snorts. “They’ll be fine. Just a little dazed and confused.”
Harley leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I know the feelin’.” And really! Harley’s proud of her. Ivy’s never been one to follow rules or care for humans. But she tries for Harley. Why she bothers when Mistah J never seemed to care, Harley has no idea. But it means the world to her. 
-----
The taxi drops them off in front of a large revolving door. But it’s not the gold handles that capture Harley’s attention. 
It’s the lush plants growing from every nook and cranny on the place. Harley bets Ivy could spend an hour naming all of them (scientific names and personal names.) Butterflies and hummingbirds in every color of the rainbow--and the faint buzzing of bees. A solitary stream crosses their path, and a wooden bridge stretches over it. Garden terrace after garden terrace rise up from the ground to an open-air cafe at the top. 
And behind the walls and the hotel proper? A waterpark. 
Harley’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Ivy! You shouldn’t have!” She squeezes her into a hug.
“Thanks, sweet pea, but I can’t breathe.” Ivy manages to get out.
“Oof, sorry. Here ya go.” Harley releases her, and Ivy pecks her on the cheek. 
“Best part is, they’ve a zero-carbon footprint and they’re waste free.” Harley rarely sees her grin so wide.” 
“Whoa.”
“They call it The Greenhouse.”
-----
Their first day at the resort passes in a blur. Harley shows Ivy a good time in and out of their bedroom. They go snorkeling in the ocean, ride the rides so many times Harley ends up upchucking their picnic at the beach, then make love at sunset in their honeymoon suite. Harley wonders if the management thinks they’re--well, they’re as good as, aren’t they? They don’t need rings or a wedding or a place of their own or--
“Harley?”
She blinks. Ivy only calls her that when she’s worried. Harley realizes she’s been staring at the chocolates on their pillows for God knows how long. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Of course!” she says automatically, pulling Ivy into another kiss.
Ivy kisses back, then runs a finger down her cheek. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” The setting sun makes her hair even redder, which Harley didn’t think possible, and Harley finds herself toying with her curls. 
“Hey, I’ve been wonderin’.”
If Ivy notices the change in subject, she doesn’t mention it. “Yeah?”
“How come we haven’t seen any other guests? And how come we haven’t been arrested?”
“Oh! That.” Ivy waves a hand dismissively. “I rented out the whole resort.”
“With what money??”
Ivy shoots her a wicked look that sends shivers down Harley’s spine. “Ace Chemical’s investment fund.”
“Ooooh, you’re naughty.” 
Harley dives in for another kiss but Ivy puts a finger to her lips. And doesn’t let her suck on it. Rude. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Since we’ve got all this extra cash, wanna make a run at the casino? I hear they donate the proceeds to rainforest restoration.”
“Alright.” Ivy sighs and reaches for her dress. Harley has a sinking feeling that she’s going to bring this up later. Maybe if Harley’s lucky she’ll forget about it? Yeah. Ivy forgets things all the time. 
“Last one there buys the first round!”
-----
Ivy and Harley sit across from each other, an immaculate brunch setting between them and two mimosas. Her lover’s plate sits almost empty, and while Harley’s lies largely untouched. She keeps playing with her veggie egg white omelet, but the next bite never seems to make it to her mouth. “And then we can go for a walk on the beach later! Have you seen those beds? Right there on the water? Mm. Do you think anyone would hear us if we--”
“Harley, wait.”
“Like, the sound of the waves would cover it up, right? Mm. Maybe not. I’m loud. Not as loud as--”
“Harley, no. Stop. Stop.” Ivy presses her hands on either side of Harley’s face, drawing her to a standstill and inches away from her. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to!”
Ivy gives her a sad smile, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to impress me, Harls. I love you.”
Harley, in typical Harley fashion, vibrates with energy. “But…I want this to be special. As special as y--”
“This vacation already is special. Cause you’re here with me.”
“But--” I’m not that special, Harley wants to say. But she knows Ivy won’t let her get away with saying that out loud. She wants to crawl underneath the tablecloth and hide until Ivy leaves. They always leave in the end. Once they get what they want. Mistah J--
“I love you, Harley Quinn.” Ivy takes her hand, gently, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And maybe. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know what to do if Ivy stays. It’s easier to love someone who doesn’t love her back. It’s safe. Ahem. Emotionally safe, Dr. Quinzel says inside her head. For once, Harley has nothing to say. She’s too busy trying to keep the tears from falling. 
“You don’t have to do anything. I already love you.” Ivy bites her lip--the way she always does when she’s thinking hard. Like how best to resurrect a drooping petunia or a rose bush that has a pest. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “And if it’s not too much--too early--to say this: I always will.” 
“You proposin’ or somethin’?” The words tumble out of Harley’s mouth before she can stop them. Her cheeks feel like they’re blushing as bright as Ivy’s hair. 
“I…” Ivy’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t have a ring on me.”
Shit. Fuck. ShitshitshitFuuuuuuuuuck. “I’msorryIdidn’tmeanit.” “It’s way too soon.” Harley puts on her best brave face--the same one she always put on when Bats showed up and Mistah J magically was nowhere to be found. “Marriage is so outda--”
“Harley.” Ivy puts her entire hand over her face. “Quinn.” “I never said I didn’t want to marry you.”
“Mmphwr?” 
“Who wouldn’t want to marry Harley Quinn? You’re amazing.” She traces her eyebrows. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Boops her nose. “You’re impossible to kill. Holy fuck.” Runs her fingertip across her bottom lip. “You…” Ivy presses her lips together, looking down at the table. “You helped me love again when I hated everyone.”
“Pam.” Fuck, she’s getting misty eyed. 
“I mean it. I was ready to wipe humanity off the map and start over.” She laughs a little, her voice rough as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But then you came along and nominated yourself my new shrink.”
“Don’t give me all the credit.” Wow, okay. Maybe she’s more than just misty-eyed. “You saved me too. From Mistah Jay. From Bats. From what woulda been a really boring life.”
Ivy’s smile slips slightly. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you Harls?”
Harley squeezes her hand. “Nah. You’re stuck with me.” Her words come out a little thick. “For richer or poorer.” 
Her lover leans in close, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. “That’s usually pretty literal for you.”
“HEY.” 
“It’s true! Guess I’ll have to see if Ace or maybe Lexcorp has any funds they won’t miss. I need to get that ring soon. Garnet? Spinel maybe?”
“Aww, shucks. How am I gonna be surprised now?”
Ivy scoffs. “If it’s a real surprise, it’s not a good time for a proposal.”
“But what if I want to be like those girls in those Tik Toks? Like where you propose to me but like I got my own box in my pocket?”
“Harley. A ring box wouldn’t fit in your tiny ass pockets, and you know it.”
“You know what would fit in my shorts?”
“Harleen Francis Quinzel.” Her laughter dissolves in a kiss and Harley pulls her back to their suite. They got a lot of planning to do. Though Harley has a pretty good feeling they’re not gonna get a whole lot of planning done today. But Harley’s okay with that. Pam’s always been the top of her to-do list anyway.
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blueluneacy · 4 years
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Your Thoughts on Pages
This is the second place fic! It ended up not having sex, but rather just sweet moments and rohan being... weird. Once I finish everything on my list, I might do a follow up to this!
Also on AO3!
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: pining, inappropriate use of stands, rohan majorly overstepping his boundaries, slight angst
“Kishibe, I really don’t understand why I needed to come all the way out here for this…” You sighed, putting your binder to the side as you allowed yourself to sit down for the tea that Rohan had insisted on. Rohan was a nice enough person, but after the time you had worked with him, you could tell that he was a fairly independent kind of writer. Other writers you edited for liked to be in contact with you, or asked for your opinion on this or that, but not Rohan. That’s not to say you didn’t have a good relationship with him, just a bizarre one. The two of you had a nice long chat when you first became his editor, and it became very clear that you were not to mess with any of his vision. No one ever dared to try and give Rohan ideas on what he should do, or try to tell him that what he was writing was not what was wanted for the magazine. You simply collected the pages once a week in a neat envelope, and you would scan it all in. It was a nice, neat and cordial relationship. You never had to get on Rohan’s case about deadlines or the content of his work, to the point where the two of you rarely communicated. It wasn’t like you disliked the man, it’s just that you had a bunch of other artists to hound about this or that, that Rohan ended up as a nonissue. He was ol’ reliable, someone you didn’t have to deal with, the dependable artist. Even if the world was falling apart, Rohan Kishibe got his pages in on time. You supposed that him calling you then should’ve made you worry, but you were too focused on the meetings you had to cancel in order to see him. 
“Oh, come on now, it’s been a long while. I figured I better be kind to my guest. And er… Butter you up before I hand over bad news.” Rohan told you, the last part of his sentence making you freeze up. Oh god, was he quitting? Were his hands broken? Was it, dear god, carpal tunnel? A million scenarios ran through your hand as Rohan sat down across from you, but absolutely none of them were what was actually going on.
“Bad news? Alright, lay it out on me. No sugar coating, the more I know, the better I can fix it. I mean, that’s literally what I’m here for, right?” You tried your best not to be nervous, already mentally writing out all the emails needed to clear out your day for this. If Rohan had bad news, then it was bad for everyone. Dark Pink Boy was easily the reason why most people bought the magazine in the first place, and you weren’t sure how everyone would take a hit if Rohan had to take an extended leave. But, he just sighed, leaning in a little, looking you right in the eye.
“I’ve run out of inspiration. Nothing is working, it seems like there’s nowhere for me to go.” He sighed, and for a moment, you actually… Relaxed. Well, alright. Rohan was going through a rut, that’s all. Perfectly natural for someone working as hard as he was. And, probably more easily fixable than carpal tunnel. Probably.
“I… I see. Well, how do you feel? Have you tried going on walks or something, or just… Well, I don’t know. Maybe reading other people’s work?” You suggested, shrugging a bit. Alright, this you could actually work this. You worked with probably over a hundred artists at this point to help them through writer’s block, and you succeeded most of the time. Why would Rohan be any different? Well, you did forget one detail.
“Other people’s work?” You actually heard him scoff at the very notion. “Of course I wouldn’t do that. My characterization is based on my observations and knowledge of real people, in order to write highly realistic characterization. My writing just wouldn’t be the same if I stooped to actually reading other people’s work. It’s a cycle of tweaking that would lead to me creating garbage.” Ah, that’s why Rohan was so difficult to work with. He was a diva when it came to his work, and it was also why you never had bothered to comment on his work in the first place. You had heard that the previous editor had tried to make Rohan tone down some of the themes in Dark Pink Boy, and it ended up in a fierce battle that left the old editor actually retiring. You didn’t want the hassle, and the readers liked the work as it was. You could hassle to make something family friendly with a smaller mangaka, you weren’t about to offend what was for all intents and purposes, the company’s bread and butter. So you bit your tongue and nodded, trying to think of some sort of solution.
“I see, I see… Well, there are plenty of fans who I’m sure would die to even talk to you, let alone help. Why not set up a meeting with a few and have some questionnaires ready? Or are you concerned they might give false answers because of who you are?” You tried, but Rohan just sighed and nodded.
“You already picked up on my concern. I know that any fan I would go to would ultimately be starstruck. I’ve tried with a few already, but it just never worked out. They were… They just weren’t the type of people my fans would enjoy. But, luckily, I do have a solution to all this. That’s where you come in.” Rohan told you, scooting just a bit closer as you let out a sigh of relief. Oh thank god, you wouldn’t have to write all those emails after all. He just needed your help with something? Thank god, you could easily do a few tasks for him. Beats trying to psychologically get this man through some sort of writer’s rut.
“Really? What is it? Just let me know, and I promise to do the best that I can.” You gave a smile, nodding a bit. Rohan could see the tension in your shoulders relax a bit, causing him to smile a little. Rohan always enjoyed your company, but he knew the relationship the two of you shared as much as he did. It was best if an editor didn’t get in the way. You knew that, and he appreciated that. It was almost embarrassing to him that he had to turn to you like this, but he quickly shed any shame he had for it. I mean, you weren’t really going to help in any way that others hadn’t helped before. If anything, this was more allowed because you were meant to be his resource. It wasn’t like you could complain.
“Well, I know you don’t idolize me. If anything, you seem frantic to get away from me.” Rohan said, a bit teasing. You jumped in to try and defend yourself, only for Rohan to continue. “Don’t worry, I know you’re busy. But, it’s perfect. You’ll be a perfect base to jump off of. Genuine, no need to impress me, and doesn’t care about influencing the end of the story.” He told you. You just sighed and pulled out your phone, already typing out the emails to clear out the rest of your day. You knew Rohan was meticulous, so this was already going to take a while. Might as well give yourself the time now. 
“Alright, ask away then. I just need to clear out my schedule so I don’t have to abandon ship on you. I think the rest of the day should be doable…” You replied, not noticing how Rohan had stood up, an eerie grin crossing his face.
“Oh, that should be more than enough. But I don’t think I’m going to be asking any questions…” You turned to look back at the man, only to find his hand hit your face, your body tumbling onto the floor. You tried to pull yourself up, only to find that you couldn’t move. You gasped, your form starting to tremble as your eyes darted to your cheek, noticing paper fluttering in what used to be the skin of your cheek.
“Kishibe, what is going on-” You spoke out, only for Rohan to climb on top of you, straddling your body. You gulped, already expecting the worst, only for his to take the paper into your hands and start to read. 
“Hmm, interesting. Those are the names of your parents, and… Oh, I see, I see!” Rohan reached over to grab a pen and notepad, jotting down a few notes. 
“W-What are you… What’s happening, why can’t I move? You’re scaring me, Kishibe..” You whimpered out, trying to find some sort of handle on your fear, leaving Rohan only to sigh.
“Of course you wouldn’t understand this. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need some information, and the easiest way to get it is to read it right from you.” Rohan’s voice was cold and methodical, as if he were just telling you the ingredients of a cereal box. You tried to get a reign on your emotions, watching as Rohan read the papers from your face, writing down the information that he liked onto his notepad, before turning the page. He was interesting to watch like this. You imagined that this was probably the way that he was when he was working, his eyes intense and focused. It was a nice look for him, really. You supposed that you never really had the time to appreciate it, but Rohan really was quite pretty. 
“You shouldn’t be thinking those things when it gets written down right before me.” Rohan pointed out, leaving you to sputter as your face turned red. If he was just bluffing, your face gave you away anyways.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! S-Stop being weird!” You tried to bite back, but Rohan just smiled a bit, leaning in a bit to read aloud from the pages.
“‘Rohan’s eyes seem so focused right now, I never noticed how pretty they were. Do you think he uses his own face as a base reference, the lighting right now is actually pretty incredible. If we weren’t like this, I might actually-” 
“Alright, that’s enough of that, I think you’ve read enough now!” You replied, starting to get a bit antsy. Was he just going to read everything you thought of him, because if so… Uh oh. Big uh oh.
Sure, you had gotten over it by now, but there was a major problem. Namely, how you felt about Rohan on a personal level. When you were only a junior editor, you had developed a minor crush on the man, falling head over heels at the first glance you had of him. Sure, you were probably over it now, but at the time, it was bad. You never really pursued it, after all, you were supposed to be working together, but this… This was about to get really embarrassing. 
But your frantic nature regarding your own life story seemed to only egg Rohan on more, determined to read as many pages as he could. So, he flipped through, apparently skimming for his own name, before he finally landed on something. You could tell it was something juicy, reading before his smile seemed to fall and his eyes widened. 
“I… I see. I didn’t know.” Rohan told you, leaning back for a moment and thinking. You averted your eyes, trying to come up with something to say in response. When you finally collected your thoughts and opened your mouth to say something though, Rohan just smiled, grabbing his pencil and instead moving to the page. “Well, we can always make adjustments here, just to see what would happen. Think of it as… Playing out a scenario.” Rohan replied, but as the pencil started to come closer to your face, you couldn’t help but snap.
“Rohan, you can’t just manipulate my emotions, it isn’t right!” You yelled, leaving Rohan to lean back, staring at you for a moment before crossing his arms, looking away as if pouting like a child.
“I thought you wanted to help me with my writing.” Oh, so he was pulling that card? You had had just about enough of whatever strange things were going on with Rohan for a lifetime, with him not even letting you process what was happening before jumping onto the next thing, working quickly and efficiently in a way that made your head spin. “You know… That was the first time you called me by my first time. I used to insist you did, but I eventually gave up. The first time was you yelling at me. Figures.” Rohan let out a bitter laugh, and you started to piece a few things together as he placed down his pencil, shaking his head a bit.
“W-Wait, Kishi-... Rohan. Just, pause for a minute. I think maybe we should… I don’t know, talk? About whatever the hell is going on right here and now?” You told him, only for Rohan to roll his eyes.
“If I tried to explain the concept of a stand to you, it would probably go over your head, and I’m not sure that it would even matter in the scheme of things, considering the-” Rohan started to go off, but you just stopped him, sighing a bit.
“Not about that. About… You. I can’t tell what’s going on in your head, and that hardly seems fair, since you know everything going on in mine. Tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on.” You tried to keep your voice cool and calm, looking over Rohan and even trying to smile just a bit. Rohan sighed, and looked at the ground, his nails digging into his palms.
“It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be thinking these things, feeling any of these things, I don’t know why they’re here and I can’t get rid of them. I shouldn’t have made you come all this way, I…” He drifted off, leaving you unsure of if he didn’t know what else to say or didn’t have the will to say it. Either way, it looked like it was up to you to save this situation. You took a deep breath, looking at Rohan intensely in hopes that it would make you look at least a little more serious.
“Rohan, make it so that I can move again, please.” Your voice was probably a little more demanding than you meant it to be, the please added more to make it seem like you were ordering him to do anything. Rohan froze up for a moment, before reaching in as closing the pages on your face. In an instant, it was like your entire body loosened up, and you looked at Rohan, just examining those eyes you found so beautiful. Rohan seemed so sheepish for his normal personality, starting to scoot off of you to give you a bit of space.
“I should let you go, I’m sure there’s some way I can get through all this. Maybe I’ll even try that reading idea of yours, if all else fails-” Oh, Rohan. You weren’t sure if he was trying to act more pathetic than he was feeling, or this was the truth, but you fell for it all the same. You sat up the best you could with him on top of you wrapping your arms around Rohan and pressing your lips against his. Was this impulsive and stupid? Oh, absolutely. But did Rohan’s lips feel warm against yours, melding together with you in a way that just felt right, like it was meant to always happen? Yes. Yes, of course. 
And Rohan’s eyes widened, his nails digging into his palms as if to make sure this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t some figment here to haunt him. But no, you were real, you were soft, and with that confirmation, Rohan let himself melt into the kiss, moving to wrap his arms around you, to just hold you for a moment. This may be his only chance, so he might as well take advantage of it. When you finally pulled away, Rohan almost felt bad, knowing that this moment might never come again, that this moment might have been out of pity instead of true affection, that everything would now officially be at an end. And yet, wheels started to turn in Rohan’s head as he turned away, his eyes widening. 
“Oh… Now, that would be a perfect arc!” Rohan shot up from your lap, already pacing a bit and snatching up his notepad, making his way to the stairs while talking to himself. “If I take the positioning from the last chapter, we’re in the prime position to introduce a new character, so some sort of design correlating with the current theming shouldn’t be hard, if I take…” He started to go on, and you knew that in a moment or three, it was going to be impossible to pull him out of his haze. You couldn’t help but laugh. Well, at least you seemed to have solved the problem you had come here in the first place to solve.
“Well, I take it you have ideas for your next chapter. That’s good. I suppose then…” You looked around at the now cooled tea that Rohan had offered you, the awkwardness you had just induced into your relationship, and got the vibe that maybe it was time to leave. But as you gathered up your things, Rohan’s head up snapped to you, his train of thought broken.
“Hey, stay. I… I want to talk to you after I finish writing down a few things in my office. About… Us.” You noticed a light dusting of blush over his face, making your own face flush. Oh god, it was like your old crush was flaring up all over again. Lord have mercy. You looked at the ground, just nodding a bit and sitting back down.
“A-Alright. Come back quickly, okay? I… I’m glad that I could at least help you a little bit. I know I’m sort of useless as your editor, but still…” You laughed a bit to try and lighten the mood, but Rohan just shook his head.
“Oh, (Y/n). You always seem to help me. Even just seeing your face is all the help I need sometimes. I’ll be back soon. Feel free to grab what you want from the kitchen.” With that, Roha ran up the stairs to work on who knows what, leaving you alone to your thoughts, sitting in Rohan’s living room.
Leaving you to think about a kiss you probably never should’ve given, and the joy that it was most likely about to lead to.
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undercover-junkie · 3 years
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References: James Morgan
My own list of references and reasoning for certain changes of James Morgan’s character from James Captain Hook. I’ll add more overtime.
-James Morgan’s obsession with mustaches. James Morgan being raised in a pirate culture that rewarded “masculine” looks and behaviors (and James obviously not being that) caused quite a conundrum within him. James does not care to change unless theres a benefit of survival to it. He will not pick up habits unless he needs them. Still, there was resentment and internal jealousy. He wants to be that musclehead pirate that can cause a normal person to pee their pants. A pirate that can actually “be useful” (unlike a cabinboy). Being hairy is just one step to get there, and appeal to his inner flair of fashion simultaneously.
Outside of that: Because Captain James Hook had a mustache herp derp. James Morgan does jokes centered around mustaches please stop him.
-James Morgan playing guitar instead of piano....Because Azul already plays piano and it feels boring narrative wise for two characters to play the same instrument. Plus it just doesn’t fit James Morgan’s character--yes, he has that classiness of Hook--he likes frills, but not to such an extent as Hook. James Morgan has been raised on Pirate Culture, which included Sea Shanties. So he’d be more inclined to “rough n tumble” with a hint of class instrument and music. Nothing more “rough n tumble”with class than a guitar. Also...he likes country which alot of people seem to hate. Country is similar to Sea Shanties--which is why James Morgan is drawn to it.
- Birthday? March 18. In another post I mentioned how 18 is considered a bad luck number for it being an even number, and meant to show the character with it has to balance something. I forgot to mention though how those with even numbers in general tend to be the “rulers” while the odd numbers are the “followers”. The Big Bad, the Villain of their “realm” (dorm in TWST) tend to have even numbers. Because until now the “worlds” of Disney did not collide (House of Mouse & Kingdom Hearts did Universal Connections better and earlier but shush). Actually...they still don’t. The main reason why NRC can’t beat RSA is their lack of cooperation. They don’t mingle with other Dorms in NRC but viciously compete against eachother if Episode 2 is anything to go by. They won’t be “buddy-buddy” by the end of the game I feel, but I feel they will get better to cooperate thanks to MC. (And yes, I know Leona, Epel & Vil are outliers in this theory but i’m not addressing that here--I need to keep this post about James and I already talked too much about this).
Back to what this means for James Morgan. James Morgan is a ruler, a sub-ruler if you want to talk about how he operates concerning Octavinelle. Like Ruggie is Sub-ruler of Savannaclaw (Vice-Dorm Head Until Leona Graduates). The character he’s based on (Captain James Hook) came from Neverland, and was the Big Bad of his “realm”. James Morgan is a pirate--between sea and land but also over (earth) and under (sky). A pirate belongs everywhere and nowhere unless on a ship. They are free from life as people know it. Pisces is considered the end while Aries is considered the beginning of the Zodiac, and James Morgan is balance between end of a new year (Zodiac Wise) and the beginning of a new one. The balance of 18--new and old. At least concerning TWST. From Third Year Aries Vil to 2nd Year Aries Ruggie. 4 Years in NRC, and James is a 2nd Year, half, between sides of old and new. That’s why I picked his date, for Captain Hook--a pirate, was between, all, and neither. Captain James Hook has been through alot with Disney, so it seemed fitting he was picked for this date, this year, for me.
Also because I wanted to ship my shitty OC with Azul and also have him rival him. :’) Ursula and Captain James Hook are all about them contracts so that combined with the closer they are in age the more tension there is.
-Smee is a bird, and not human in TWST. Because if the Leech twins, who were “originally” actual eels and not humans became humans, a rule is suggested with that. Animal characters turn human, and so vice-versa. So Smee is now a pet bird in TWST. My logic made this argument based on my own conclusions. Inanimate objects (Sebek--who is based on Maleficent’s Lightning) & animals (Leech twins) were given character for so why not the opposite for James sidekick?
-James Morgan. Why only switch James last name instead of giving giving him his own first & last name? Because balance of 18, and James (Sebek too) were born on the Cusp of Rebirth (March 17-March 20). In the Professional Astrology Community its considered hogwash (yes, the Astrology Community--who believe that planets miles away affect our human time of birth). Sebek got his temper from his grandfather, James got half of Captain Hook’s real name & then some.
Morgan, btw, means “Sea Chief” in Welsh so do with that as you will. James is Hebrew for “Supplanter”. Morgan was picked as Henry Morgan was considered the first buccaneer in the Spanish Caribbean. 17th Century.
-
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vigilantesanonymous · 4 years
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start me up - poe dameron
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(Title inspired by The Rolling Stones song. I don’t know why, it just came up on my playlist while writing this and I can just imagine this playing in Poe’s head every time he sees you. Especially the lines “You make a grown man cry, you make a dead man cum”.)
Story inspired by this anon: “think about it: poe meeting you for the first time, you're the best female pilot in the galaxy, oh no, not only are you his runner up but you're also incredibly beautiful and poe is a nervous, stumbling and stuttering mess.”
We love when the man who literally cannot stop talking is at a loss for words! Thank you for the suggestion anon!
Word count: 2736
***
You’re the best pilot in the galaxy. Well, okay, maybe not that. But what you are is the best female pilot in the galaxy. And boy, had you made a reputation for yourself. 
You had been running with a Mandalorian for a while, the two of you racing around the galaxy on bounty hunting missions and experiencing the damage the First Order could cause front and center. At first, you really hadn’t cared to take a side. What was yet another war to you? That was, until your best friend was forced to go into the stormtrooper program, and you never saw him again. That first loss was what really opened your eyes to all the destruction that was taking place in the galaxy. No matter how badly you wanted to keep your head down and turn a blind eye to it, you couldn’t. Everywhere you went you saw the intense amount of damage that the First Order had caused. Broken families, dead bodies, screaming babies looking for parents that would never come to save them again. It was then that you decided you needed to do more than be a measly bounty hunter, and with your expert flying skills the Resistance took you in with open arms. 
To say he heard a lot about you was an understatement. You were his runner up, and people all over the Resistance would tease him about being bested by a girl, but for some reason he didn’t mind. Instead, he was excited to meet the woman who was so incredible at the craft he loved more than anything. He liked the thought of having another skilled pilot on the side of the Resistance. Someone who was just as good as he was to keep his friends safe, someone who would care about the good of the galaxy as much as him. But when he first laid eyes on you? Stars. He didn’t know that being the best female pilot in the galaxy also meant being the hottest.
You had your hair in a half up, the top portion of hair pulled out of your face so there would be no distractions while flying (“Being a pilot isn’t the same as being a beauty queen,” you snark at anyone who asked). Still, it suited you, and the few whips of hair that managed to escape framed your face well. It brought attention to your rosy cheeks and your bright eyes, the eyes Poe couldn’t tear himself away from. 
“Poe Dameron,” he said confidently as he held out his hand. Poe Dameron, best pilot in the galaxy. And it wasn’t just something that he said about himself, no. Everyone touted him as the best, even General Leia Organa, for whom he was the right hand man of. Despite the badass reputation, those were the last words he said to you with any amount of certainty to them. Your hand was soft, but your grip was firm. You introduced yourself, Poe feeling himself melt at the sound of your voice. He hadn’t even realized you asked him a question until you repeated yourself. 
“Oh! Where I’m from? Yavin. Y-Yavin 4,” he stuttered awkwardly. He clunkily tells you about how his parents were in the Resistance, how he has a droid (Seriously, talking about the DROID?, he mentally curses himself). He scours his brain for anything to tell you that won’t make you snore, and surprisingly finds himself at a loss for words. Any questions you ask him are an Olympic feat to answer. He can barely open his mouth without stuttering out a weak reply. A wave of relief washes over him as Rey glides over to introduce herself, gladly letting her do the talking so he doesn’t embarrass himself further. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, talk to you, get to know you. But clearly he was not very good at it. No one had ever made Poe stumble over his words like this, or made him so incredibly at a loss for words. He felt as clunky as an outdated sand speeder. 
You liked Poe. He was handsome, sure, but what you found most attractive was the way he cared about his team and friends. The way he took the worries of the war from everyone and put it on his shoulders. The way he hugged his droid whenever the little guy rolled up to his feet, happily beeping at his owner for attention. It was the little things about Poe that made your affection grow towards the man. You were stationed under him, and he was your superior, but Poe never made anyone on the team feel like they were anything but an equal to him. Even with his superstar reputation, you got to see behind the scenes to see a charming man who would do anything for the people that he cared about, and that he loves them fiercely. 
It didn’t take long for you to rise through the ranks on the Black Squadron to be right underneath of Poe. But you couldn’t help but feel like there was a disconnect when it came to you and him. With the rest of the team, he would get really close and personal with them. He had inside jokes with them, his charming grin always readily available to anyone who needed some cheering up. After a mission, he would tell each and everyone how great they’re doing, but when he finally got around to you a strange look would wash over his face and could only stammer out a “Hey, great job kid,” before walking as quickly as he could to Rey and Finn. It was all Poe could do to not stumble over his words when he talked to you. Even after rehearsing them in his mind over and over. Which of course, he would never admit.
Of course he wanted to gush to you about how good of a job you did, how could he not?! And how sexy it was when you took out those Ties in one shot, and the way you were just so good with your X-wing. How courageous and admirable it was for you to take a risk, to risk yourself for others on your team. After a mission, when Snap was the first to congratulate you, and then hug you, well. Poe would be a damned liar if he claimed he didn’t feel a hot flash of jealousy come over him at the sight. But he couldn’t act on whatever this was that he was feeling. No, that would be unprofessional. At least, that’s what he told himself.
But try as Poe might, his feelings progressed. At first for him, it was just a crush. That was all he would allow himself to call whatever feelings he had towards you. You were just a really pretty pilot, and it was a crush, and there was a war to win. He didn’t have time to try to pursue you, or even try to have a relationship. Rey and Finn were exhausted by him talking about how he totally does not have a crush on you, because it seems like anymore you’re all that Poe can seem to talk about. But then you were on a mission and you took out 8 canons on Ren’s fleet all with your first shot at them, one of the shots so well placed that you took out the ship entirely. When you came back to D’Qar, you leaped out of your X-wing almost in slow motion, your hair tumbling out perfectly from your helmet as you pulled it off. The smile that lit up your features was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And then he was done for. Poe Dameron was undeniably smitten with you. 
To add to the misery that is Poe’s continuing purgatory of pining, Leia had decided to put you as Poe’s second in command. Unbeknownst to him, she had told you of the happy news earlier that day, and allowed you to celebrate. You were getting drunk with a few of your friends, blissfully unaware of anything else going on. It wasn’t until later that the older woman called Poe to her private planning room. Poe happily sped to where she was waiting- he would be lying if he said he didn’t get a boylike joy from being called by name for help from the General. He relished being her right hand man and he would do anything for her. Well, almost anything.
“She’s going to be your second in command,” Leia says, mildly amused at the way that Poe’s dark eyes widen in shock. She, along with everyone else on base, knew how he felt towards you. And that Poe just needed a little push, that’s all. After all, she had been married to none only than Han Solo. She knows how these kinds of men tend to work. 
“M-me?” Poe stammers. He gulps- No, he couldn’t allow it. There was no way that Poe could handle having you under him, having to rely on you constantly for missions or planning. How was he supposed to focus when you got that little crease between your eyebrows when you’re frustrated? Or how your face lights up when you come up with a great solution? His heart was racing a million miles a minute, his hands slick with sweat. He didn’t want to deny the General, but he had to. “I- General, I’m so honored, but I don’t think I can-”
“Can accept? Why, of course you can. I already talked to her about it, and she’s extatic to work with you. She said it would be an honor, Dameron. I can’t disappoint her now, can I?”
“No,” Poe sighs, defeated. 
“Besides, I think you and her would work very well together,” Leia says with a knowing glance. Poe gulps- he knows she knows. “Don’t disappoint me, Dameron.”
“I won’t,” Poe promises.
*
It’s a few weeks after your promotion, and Poe is still a little shaky, but at least now he can say a few sentences without stumbling through them. Mostly. You take the fact that he talks to you at all as a win, because it’s a lot of progress from before. It’s your day off- the base is more quiet than usual. Everyone is sleeping in or lazing around, enjoying the fact that they don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn to work on a mission. You like waking up early though. There’s something about the quiet on base that’s nice, and the stillness of the morning. You feel like you can actually have some time with your thoughts before having to whisk off on another mission for the Resistance. You roam until you find your favorite spot on base, the one that has a little clearing into the jungle. You lean against a pillar, letting yourself get lost in thought as you watch the leaves tumble with the breeze. 
Peace never lasts forever. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar whirring of a droid. BB-8 rolls to your feet, looking up at you expectantly. He beeps, but you can only understand a little bit of droid language. “Is it about your dad?”
The little droid lets out a series of beeps and whirs before zooming down the hallway. You grin to yourself- you loved to give your commander shit about the way he and his droid adore each other. You break out into a trot, following BB-8 down the hall to the hangar. Now you know why his droid had come to you for help- it looked like he was working on the compressor of his X-wing, but it wasn’t going well. Something was sparking, the smell of smoke hanging in the air from it. A pair of oil stained legs are sticking out from underneath the ship, and a voice stringing more curses than you had heard came from him. 
“You look like you could use some help,” you say as you hear him spit out another profanity in frustration. Tools and rags are littered by Poe’s workspace in disarray. Poe pulls himself out from under the ship, his expression melting from grouchy to happily surprised. 
“Hey!” he grins. 
“Hey yourself, Commander,” you reply. Crouching down, you root around in Poe’s disastrously messy toolbox until you find what you’re looking for, handing it to him.
“U-um, thanks,” he says, but immediately he drops the wrench you found him. 
“Is everything okay?” You ask as you pick up the wrench he just dropped. 
His brain shorts out at the sight of you. How could he not think you’re stunning? You don’t have any makeup on, but the humidity from the jungle planet is giving you a sweaty sheen that makes you just glow. Your cheeks are flushed pink, you have a few strands of hair that refused to stay in your ponytail, and stars it’s all Poe can do to keep from slamming you against the X-wing to make out with you.
“Poe?” you ask again. He still hasn’t given you an answer.
“Yeah?” he asks, trying to sound fine. 
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” you say finally, sitting down on the ground next to him. 
The words cut right through Poe, straight to the core and making him feel like his heart is stopped. To say he’s nervous is the greatest understatement of the century. “I- I don’t know what you mean.”
“Poe,” you sigh. “Do you not like me? I mean, you always act weird around me, and you never really talk to me, but you talk to everyone on base. Even C-3PO. And you despise that droid! I don’t know... I guess what I’m asking is… Did I do anything to upset you or make you hate me? Because if I did, I’m sorry, I just need to be able to work with you as second in command and not have it be so awkward…”
“No!” he barks out, probably too quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You can tell he means it genuinely, which makes you feel a little bit better. Tentatively, he reaches out to give your arm a reassuring squeeze. “I just- you’re right. I am acting weird. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Why?” you ask innocently. Oh, how he really wishes you didn’t ask him that.
He looks over to BB-8, hoping the droid could give him some wisdom. Like the little orange buddy would know anything about romantic interactions, and if he’s going to epically fuck up everything for the Squadron if he tells you how he feels. He takes a deep breath, sighing quickly. So he’s doing this. “You know, when I heard about my runner up, I never thought she’d be this amazing,” he says slowly with a smile. “But then I met you. And you- I mean, what can I say? I’m smitten, sweetheart. You’re a great shot, you can fly anything, you were friends with a Mandalorian- like how badass is that! The way you know how to work on an X-wing is incredibly sexy,-” he chuckles to himself, you yourself grinning. “But you’re also one of the most kind and caring people I’ve ever met.” Shrugging, he looks up to read your face. “If you don’t want me to be your commander anymore, I understand. But I can’t keep going on pretending like I don’t feel anything for you.”
He braces himself for the inevitable rejection. But it doesn’t come. Instead, you scoot yourself closer to him, placing your hands on either side of him face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek, and your place your foreheads together. “You are the most incredible man I’ve ever met, Poe Dameron,” you whisper. “And I’d be fine with you being something more than just my commander.” Those words are music to his ears. He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet, and the feeling of your lips on his makes him feel like he could finally die happy. 
You two are so engrossed in each other that you don’t hear the footsteps of someone else walking into the hangar. “Oh, come on Dameron!” Snap yells.
The both of you knock your foreheads together once more, giggling like you’ve just heard the funniest thing in the galaxy before he pulls you in for another kiss. 
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fanficshiddles · 4 years
Text
Captain wants an heir, One shot
Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it 😊 I’m not great with pirate-eras so words etc might not be right. But oh well.
Prompt: Hello, may I suggest as prompt; captain/pirate Loki or Tom, who ever you feel like writing? The female character could be wife or hook-up and She meets Loki/Tom after a long time and they have hot sex in the cabin, and I would love for it to include a breeding kink, like Tom/Loki wanting to come back after Some months to see you with child and for you to produce his heir
When Captain Loki and his crew docked at the port, they were met with some of the usual resistance. Everyone quickly turned and rushed the other way while they strolled through the town. Mothers quickly grabbed their children and dragged them inside.
Captain Loki and his crew had quite the reputation, anyone who dared try to mess with them soon regretted it.
They went into the first bar they came across. Their simple presence there caused most of the guests to leave.
The bar maid sighed and put her hands on her hips, glaring at the Captain. He glared back at her with a smirk, then winked at her playfully.
‘You just chased all my punters out!’ She said when the pirates all gathered around the bar and started throwing orders her way.
Loki still had a smirk on his lips as he leaned across the bar towards her. ‘I’d say they were too blinded by yer beauty.’ Loki winked at her.
She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but he was charming and incredibly good looking. So instead a blush crept over her cheeks and she smiled.
‘What are you having?’ She asked.
Loki slid a few gold coins towards her and placed his order, the crew too.
‘What’s yer name?’ Loki asked when the bar maid had finished pouring them all their round of drinks.
‘Maddie. And yours?’ She asked with a half smirk, she knew full well who he was. Everyone knew who he was. The long-haired pirate that looked like a god. Sharp cheekbones, incredibly handsome and tall. There was no mistaking who he was.
‘It’s Captain Loki. But you can just call me Loki.’ He grinned, drinking his beer.
‘I am honoured, Loki.’ She said cheekily.
Loki liked her. She wasn’t scared of him like most women were, they usually fled from him. Or those that were interested in his good looks, didn’t have much personality to them.
For the duration of the night, Loki kept talking to Maddie while she poured him and his crew drinks. Then when her shift ended, she said goodnight to Loki and went out back to leave, but she didn’t get far when long fingers curled around her wrist and pulled her to a stop.
She turned around to be facing Loki, her heart fluttered a bit at the look in his eyes.
‘May I be so bold, poppet. I’d like to invite ye aboard my ship for the night?’ He took off his hat and held it against his chest, looking at her with puppy dog eyes that she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Even if she wanted to…
Loki was ecstatic when she agreed and allowed him to lead her back to his ship. She was amazed at the size of it when he helped her aboard. She’d always wanted to get on a pirate ship, though had of course always steered clear from pirates usually… listening to her parents’ warnings…
Until now.
She was being seduced by the ruthless Captain Loki. And it wasn’t long before she found herself in the Captain’s cabin below deck.
Their hands roamed over one another’s bodies, lips crushed hard together. Loki backed her over to his bed in the corner of the room, they tumbled down and started tugging at each other’s clothing. Maddie struggled getting the various buckles off him, so he helped her out.
Loki had no trouble removing her clothes, soon he had her naked and writhing beneath him. He let out a moan when she reached down between them and squeezed his cock, he already didn’t think he was going to last long as it was.
He swatted her hand away and got pay back, slipping his fingers between her folds. He was delighted to find she was aroused. But he still took his time teasing her, swirling around her opening and then sliding up over her clit.
Looking up at her, his breath was taken away momentarily. Her hair was pooled around her head on the pillow, making her beautiful eyes look brighter. Her cheeks were flushed red in her arousal and her nipples were hard little peaks, he couldn’t resist leaning down and suckling on them in turn.
‘Ye are such a pretty little thing.’ He hummed over her nipple.
The Captain felt a sudden urge, one he hadn’t felt before. Not like when he frequented the whore houses for a quick fuck. He wanted Maddie… He wanted to breed her.
‘These lovely breasts would look wonderful all full and swollen with milk.’ He purred, tugging on her left nipple with his teeth, making her gasp.
He removed his fingers from her and positioned himself between her legs. She felt his cock press against her folds. For a fleeting moment she did think about protection, but Loki’s words had her changing her mind instantly.
‘I want an heir, poppet. I want to see yer stomach swelling with my baby.’ He whispered into her ear, his breath dancing over her made her tremble.
Not even thinking about the reality of his words, Maddie spread her legs wider for him. He grinned down at her and kissed her again as he pressed his cock into her. She gasped into his mouth, taking a little while to adjust to the intrusion of the pirate.
He took her slowly at first, deep and long strokes. Hitting all the spots inside of her that set her body off like a rocket. Loki enjoyed the feeling of her soft walls fluttering around him, squeezing and holding on tightly.
Maddie wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the hard lines of the muscles on his back. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his musky smell as he continued thrusting into her.
His pace started to quicken when her hands wandered down his back, to his bum. She couldn’t resist squeezing, that made him lose control and he started fucking harder into her.
‘Oh god. Loki.’ She whimpered, feeling another orgasm of her own forming.
Loki snapped his hips into her one more time, then he held himself deep inside her as he came.
-
5 Months later
Captain Loki and his crew returned to port, he was eager to see his little bar maid again. To see whether he’d been able to plant his seed so to speak.
He sought her out at the bar, but she wasn’t working there anymore. The owner was shaking in his boots when Loki had entered. But Loki wasn’t in the mood to play and take advantage of that. Instead he scoured the town, looking for any sight of Maddie.
After spending most of the day looking for her, he returned to the ship downhearted. Part of him was disappointed that perhaps he wasn’t going to have an heir. But another part of him was even more disappointed at the fact that he wouldn’t see her again. There was just something about her that had tugged at his cold heart strings.
His crew mates tried to get him to go pillaging in the town, but he declined and told them to go ahead.
He wandered down into his cabin, as soon as he stepped inside, he knew something was off. There was someone there. He drew his sword and grabbed the nearest candle, lighting it and aiming it into the room.
His eyes widened when he saw her. Maddie. She was lying on his bed, the blanket over her. She grinned when she saw him and motioned her to him with a finger.
‘Why hello, poppet. I’ve been looking for ye.’ Loki growled and put down his sword as he crossed the room to her.
‘I’ve got a surprise.’ She bit her lower lip.
‘And what may that be?’ Loki asked, towering over her.
She flipped the blanket away, revealing that she was naked underneath it. But her stomach was huge, clearly with child. And her breasts were much larger than before.
Loki’s cock hardened instantly and his eyes widened.
‘Hello, Daddy.’ She grinned.
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habibialkaysani · 5 years
Text
With the Morning Light (Matt/Elektra; T)
Ships: Matt/Elektra
Summary: Set during the flashbacks of Daredevil 2x05. The morning after their first time, Elektra wakes to find Matthew greeting the morning with prayer.
A/N: Okay! So I have spent the last few months getting into the Marvel Netflix verse and honestly it's been such a ride. Daredevil was the first show I watched after my friend nagged me for ages, lol, and I am now super invested in MattElektra. I didn't think I'd be writing something so soon, but here we are :)
Thanks to Ell/@violetsforgirls for reading this over for me and giving much-needed suggestions. You’re a star!
Read at AO3
Elektra had always been a light sleeper.
She remembered Stick telling her that was a good thing, actually laughing gruffly when she'd woken to the sounds of his footsteps and had pressed a blade against his throat. Where most people would have been affronted, Stick was proud, impressed, even.
(Elektra would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, but she needed his approval. At least, every now and then she did.)
It was that kind of base instinct, he had said, that made her ideal for the Chaste. She'd scoffed at the time when she heard the name, telling him she thought it sounded like some kind of cult of celibacy.
“Ellie, I don't give a shit who you decide to sleep with. For once I agree with you. It's a stupid name. Almost as stupid as the Hand. But that doesn't change the fact that we have to defeat them. Just get the job done and we're good.”
And they had been. Elektra was efficient in her missions, in a way that made her stand head and shoulders above the rest of the Chaste's members.
But then Stick assigned her Matthew Murdock.
From the outset she knew it wasn't her typical mission, because Stick hadn't ordered her to kill anyone. And sure, Stick hadn't said outright that Elektra had to sleep with Matthew either, but really he hadn't needed to - especially when Elektra had found herself falling for Matthew, hard.
And now, here they were, in Matthew's college dorm, spent and aching from their second round of lovemaking - the first being in the boxing ring Matthew used to frequent as a child. When they had reached the dorm, she'd laughed openly at him when he insisted on putting a sock on the door, even though his shaggy-haired roommate had already told him he was away visiting his parents.
(She'd stopped laughing, though, when he'd back-kicked the door shut and pressed her up against it and kissed her so hard it left her breathless.)
But it was morning now, the light streaming through the gap in the curtains. Elektra's eyes followed the path the narrow beam of sunlight made, turning on her side, and she found Matthew was sitting up, having pulled on some pyjama pants but still without a shirt. His head was ever so slightly bowed forward, and in the light she caught sight of the smattering of stubble on his jaw.
It was hard not to admire him - there was something beautiful, in the soft kind of way that Elektra hadn't thought was real, in the curve in his cheek, the way his brow was furrowed in concentration, in the way he slowly, deliberately exhaled. It was like - goddamn it, she couldn’t even believe she was thinking this - like Matthew was emanating light from within. And that made Elektra's breath catch in her throat.
Of all people, she never thought this would happen to her. Elektra had always looked at those lovelorn in disdain, not understanding when people wrote poetry, songs, novels, about this far-fetched emotion she had had yet to feel. But being with Matthew now - it was like a switch had flicked in her head. Like suddenly it all made sense.
Yet it wasn't just the gleaming sun kissing his cheeks and caressing his face that made her see him differently. It was more than that. Matthew had practically bared his soul to her last night. He’d opened up to her and given himself to her in every sense of the word - been vulnerable in a way she hadn't expected. And now, Elektra did not for the life of her know what to do with that, because the mere thoughts racing through her mind felt dangerously like the very love she had been so dismissive of before.
Looking at him now, she wasn't sure what he was doing - he seemed to be steeling himself, trying to work up the courage to do something. She just didn't know what - not until he blessed himself, put his hands together and started murmuring under his breath - and even then, she didn't recognise the words for what they were immediately.
“Dear Lord, help me remember what a difference it makes when I make time with You a priority in my morning. Awaken me in body and spirit each day with a desire to meet with You and to hear You speak words of affirmation, assurance and wisdom over my heart as I prepare to go into my day. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” He blessed himself again, two fingers touching his forehead and chest and shoulders. Then he sighed deeply, before he whispered the final word in the prayer: “Amen.”
And Elektra didn't even realise she was holding her breath until she suddenly found the need to let it out, and that was enough to give her away.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Matthew said softly without turning around.
“Hey,” Elektra replied with a smile.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”
“It's okay.” Elektra paused for a moment, then said, “I didn't know you were the religious type.”
That was a lie. Stick had briefed her thoroughly beforehand, and Elektra probably knew Matthew's life story better than he did.
Almost of its own accord, Matthew's hand went up to touch the crucifix around his neck.
“I'm not always a good Catholic,” he admitted. “Some days… I wonder what the point of all this is.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guilt, the penance, the self-punishment - and doing it all shrouded in ritual and candles and holy water like that makes it all okay.” But then he stopped short, as if he had just recognised the bitterness in his voice. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get all philosophical on you first thing in the morning.”
Elektra just laughed, reaching forward, her fingers grazing against his as she felt the cross too. “That's all right.”
“I guess that means you don't believe in a higher power, then?”
“You say that like it's a given.”
“For me it is,” Matthew countered.
“But you just said -”
“I said I'm not always a good Catholic. That I don’t know what the point of prayer is all the time. That I can get angry at God. But that doesn't mean I don't believe He's up there watching me.”
“How can you be so sure?” Elektra asked quietly.
To her surprise he chuckled. “I will let you know if I ever have a proper answer to that.”
It was then that she said slowly, “In answer to your question… I guess, maybe there is a God. Maybe there isn't. To be honest, I don’t really care either way. But if there is - in my book, He seems like a bit of a bastard.”
Elektra expected him to flinch at that, or otherwise react, and she was surprised to see that other than a slight twitching in the corner of his mouth, Matthew said and did nothing.
“What makes you say that?” he said finally.
“Last night… you said you lost your dad,” said Elektra, “that he was killed by criminals. And I doubt that's the only injustice that's happened to you.”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, there are way too many sequels to that sob story.”
“It's not a sob story,” Elektra said firmly. “It's your life. It’s not been an easy one. And you've been dealt far too many shitty hands. It makes me wonder if the person or being doing the dealing is doing it on purpose when you so clearly deserve better.”
“I have to say, I'm glad life isn't a card game because I wouldn't have stood a chance. Being blind and all.”
Elektra laughed. “True. But I wonder - if we're going to go with that analogy - why keep playing, giving Him the benefit of the doubt, Matthew, when you keep being dealt so badly?”
He shrugged. “I guess I just have faith that I'll get dealt the right cards eventually.”
After hesitating for a moment, Elektra reached out, so her hand was covering his. “Well, for what it’s worth - I may not be a believer, but that’s something I’d pray for. For you to be happy.”
And Matthew smiled now. “See? That’s a miracle right there.” Their fingers laced together as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, then her nose and her lips. There was something so tender about it all - the kind of gentle earnestness that Elektra knew instinctively that she didn’t deserve.
“I'm glad you're here,” Matthew blurted out, almost before he seemed to realise he had done so. His hand dropped to his side.
“I'm glad too. Mostly because this futon is a wonder.” Matthew chuckled as well.
“It's only started to be. Before last night it was always so - stiff and new.”
“Well, then, I'm glad you broke it in,” Elektra said with a smile. She hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you a question? It's possible it might be too personal -”
She was surprised when she felt his lips brush against her cheek, even more so when he pulled away slightly and Elektra caught sight of the slow smile forming on his face. “Sweetie, I think we got plenty personal.”
That helped a bit - him making her smile, distracting her from what was really on her mind. “True.” She leaned over her side of the bed so she could grab Matthew's discarded t-shirt, putting it on.
“I hope that was my shirt,” he said with a grin.
“You know it was,” she teased back. He shrugged at that, letting out a tiny sigh when she put her arms around his bare waist from behind, burying her nose in his shoulder.
“You can ask, you know.”
She didn't need to be told twice. “Have you ever been in love?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and his sharp intake of breath already made her regret asking.
“Have you?” he countered. And for what felt like the hundredth time so far, again, Elektra was thrown, caught off guard, without an answer. Damn Matthew Murdock and his never-ending ability to get under her skin.
“I didn't even think it was possible,” she admitted. “I… didn't think I was built for that, to be honest.” Then she shifted a little, reaching out so her finger was under his chin and she turned his head towards her. “Good job deflecting that question, by the way. Nicely done, Matthew.”
At first he didn't answer, just kissed her gently. Then he said quietly, “I have, Elektra. Been in love, that is.”
“How did it end?”
“It hasn't,” he replied firmly without hesitation, as he leaned his forehead against hers, and Elektra knew that Matthew could have gone on, said more. His lips were parted, the words that Elektra had all but asked him to say on his tongue, but she couldn't let him say it. And it wasn't only because it pained her to see him wear his heart so unashamedly on his sleeve; no, it also pained her when she realised that what she wanted more than anything was to do the same in return.
But she had her mission. Elektra was meant to be the distraction for Matthew, not the other way around.
So she lost herself in him instead, and he in her. And she shouldn’t have, she really shouldn’t have, but as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, she found herself mouthing the words she had stopped him from saying into his skin.
Tagging a few people who might be interested (apologies if you’re not pls ignore): @captainriphunter @therewas-a-girl @moralezmiles @smilinstar
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tintinwrites · 6 years
Text
quixotic | Poe Dameron x Reader
A/N: Ah, hopefully this is as cute as I attempted to make it! Quixotic means exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical. It seemed fitting for such a sweet thing!
Rating: T.
Warning: Falling. Drunkenness. Sexual references. Brief, vague mention of the Star Wars equivalent of a spider if that exists?
Word count: 2,454 is what I’m getting so!
Prompt: “Is this a habit of yours? Falling off of stuff?”
“Only when you’re there to catch me.” (as requested by an anon from this list of Disney prompts)
You were sure you would never forget the first time you had an actual interaction with Poe outside of commands and polite acknowledgement of each other's existence.
It was equal parts embarrassing and sweet. And a little romantic, though you weren't going to say that out loud.
You had just gotten back from a mission, climbing out of your ship, helmet off and tucked under your arm, moving towards the ladder. What you hadn't realized was that you had brought back part of some slimy plant from a planet on the bottom of your boot, which caused you to slip and go flailing towards the floor.
Your helmet clattered to the cement and you closed your eyes in preparation to do the same thing. How many bruises were you going to get from this? Enough to make flying to your next mission very painful, you were sure.
However, rather than feeling the hard ground against your all-too-human body, you felt something that must have been a person's arms.
"You that excited to see me? It hasn't been that long since we left the planet."
You opened your eyes to find yourself in the arms of none other than Poe Dameron. Of course, the guy who slid off his ship like it was nothing.
Like it was nothing. And usually it was pretty seamless and suave, but you had witnessed the few times that he stumbled or landed in a way that had him limping. It was kind of cute, how he'd look around to make sure no one saw. You didn't feel you knew him well enough to call him out, so you just let him continue to believe he was as impressive as he thought he was.
"You could've talked to me on the comms if you missed me that much."
You were definitely blushing since you fell, and such a handsome man was holding you, and he was saying things like that. You pushed at his chest as a signal to put you down, which he gently did.
"—I slipped." You felt quite flustered, dusting yourself off as you tried to appear cool and collected. "What are you doing here?" Your ship was parked in its compartment, after all, separate from the rest. His was a couple compartments down.
"I came to congratulate you on a mission well done." He held a hand out. You, totally cool and collected, stared for a moment before you realized he wanted you to shake it. "Well done and congratulations."
The corners of your lips briefly twitched into a smile. He was smiling as well, but he was looking down in amusement at the hand you were still shaking. You were quick to pull your hand away, wiping it on the leg of your flight suit and blushing even deeper. Had you always been so odd and pathetic or was it the presence of the silly, sexy best pilot in the galaxy?
Both. Definitely both.
"Well, I have to, uh, you know...the debriefing." Any excuse to stop making a fool of yourself.
"Tell Leia I'll be there in a minute, okay? I have a few more pilots to congratulate."
You nodded, moving past him a bit quicker than necessary.
"Hey!" His call had you spinning back around to see him grabbing your helmet off the ground, walking to you. "You forgot something." He put it on your head before you could take it from him. "You should keep this on in case you fall again."
Was it possible to blush deeper? You mumbled your thanks and ran off, fairly certain that you weren't actually that strange and that your behavior was all thanks to the intimidating yet inviting Poe Dameron.
"Just come down."
"No."
"Y/N, it's gone. Just come down."
You had gotten so used to Poe always using your last name, but ever since your first actual conversation, he called you by your name and it always made your stomach flutter.
It was weird.
Even now, as you were up a tree after having to escape something that had knocked away your weapon, hearing him say your name made you blush.
"—I can't."
"You can."
"I can't!"
You really couldn't; the tree had no branches. You weren't even sure how you got up there in the first place. Fear, adrenaline, and pure willpower? All you knew was that getting down was going to end up with you injured one way or another.
The thought of a broken bone or scraped up skin kept you right where you were, arms and legs tight around the trunk.
"Either you come down or we go back to the base without you."
"I can make a nice home up here."
Poe grinned, shaking his head as he looked up at you. "Okay, come on. I'm right here. If you get hurt, I'm gonna fix you up. Just ease your way down...have sex with the tree."
"What?" You sputtered and lost your grip for a moment, sliding a few inches down the tree before you tightened yourself around it again. "What did you just say?" Your voice was a little higher thanks to the fear of almost falling and the shock from his suggestion.
"I promise I'm being professional. Just move your hips like you're having sex and use your hands to help ease yourself down."
"No!" You got bashful enough around Poe. You did not need to make movements like that when he was standing under you and watching intently.
"—hey, don't move."
Why was he taking out his blaster? And aiming it at your head?
You saw something out of the corner of your eye and turned your head to see that it was furry with a hell of a lot of legs, and staring at you.
Between that and the fact that Poe was about to shoot it when it was so close, you didn't even think twice.
You jumped right out of the tree.
You knew Poe was a good shot, but you also weren't an idiot. Unless jumping out of a tree was idiotic.
Whatever you landed on was soft, and warm, and grunted upon impact, and you tumbled to the ground with it.
Him. With him. It was Poe.
"Sorry!" You tried to get up, but your legs had gotten all tangled up and, if anything, you ended up more on top of him.
Parts were touching other parts and that familiar blush was creeping in again.
"Hey, don't worry about it. You're down and you're not hurt." His face was so close and how the hell could someone be this gorgeous so close? "And having someone like you on top of me is not something I'd consider a bad thing."
You nodded, smiling sheepishly, managing to roll off of him. You were sitting up and watching him grab his blaster — he'd dropped it upon having you land on him — when his words clicked. "Wait. Someone like me?"
"Yeah." He looked at you with an expression that seemed to say that what he meant should be obvious. "Sexy. Funny. Honestly, the clumsiest person I've ever met, but that works for me."
You grinned. You tried to keep your face neutral, but the happiness inside you refused to let that happen.
Poe Dameron thought you were sexy? And funny? And liked that you were clumsy?
Best pilot in the Resistance Poe Dameron?
Beautiful, good, kind, brave Poe Dameron?
You were just like every other person whoever met him and fawned over him, and you didn't really care because Poe Dameron thought you were sexy. Sure, you didn't have a chance with him, but still!
He was walking off and you were getting up to follow, only to trip on something and fall back to the ground.
You looked at the culprit to find it was your blaster. Of course.
You were drunk.
So drunk.
Unbelievably drunk.
The kind of drunk where you didn't have a single inhibition and, oh dear, you were dancing on the table like a fool while surrounded by friends and a couple people you didn't recognize.
Were they even part of the Resistance? Did they somehow sneak into the cantina? These were things you would have wondered if you were in your right mind.
At the moment, you just loved the attention.
You didn't care about attention while sober. This is just what was bound to happen when, on a slow night for the Resistance, you agreed to enjoy a drink with a couple friends.
One drink turned to two, then four, then you lost count and now you were dancing on a table.
Not in a sexy way, mind you. You might have imagined it to be sexy, but it was mostly just a lot of flailing and hip shaking.
And falling, when you got to close to the edge.
There were arms around you in an instant and you could tell you were being held against a toned chest before you looked up at the person's face.
"Poe!"
"Out of all the people I expected to do that, you're not top of the list."
You laughed as you were set on your feet and leaned into him shamelessly. No inhibitions meant your desire for Poe wasn't hidden.
"How many drinks have you had?"
You furrowed your brow, holding up your hand to count on your fingers. "How many is that? Twenty-eight?"
"—okay." He seemed to be holding in laughter, which you were oblivious to, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to the door. "Time for bed."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm your commander and it's my job to make sure you're taken care of."
"Oh." You stared at him for a good long while as you walked. "You know, you're beautiful."
"Mm." He seemed amused by your slurred words.
"Yeah. You're so beautiful it hurts, actually. And so nice. You're, like, the nicest guy in the whole galaxy, you know that? And you think I'm sexy. You think I'm sexy and I think you're sexy, and I'm never gonna have you, and that hurts, too." Though your words were still slurred, your voice had quieted considerably.
He remained silent and lead you to the door of your quarters. "You have your card?"
"Uh, obviously." You reached to the back pocket of your pants. Upon not retrieving the card after a few moments, you spun around and around until you finally managed to get it out.
Poe grabbed it from you. "Allow me, or we'll be here all night." He scanned the card and pushed you inside once the door slid open, stopping in the doorway. "Can you make it to your bed?"
"Psh." You were too busy giving him a smug look over your shoulder to pay attention to the wall you walked into.
Now he was laughing, taking hold of you and gently walking you to your bed, pulling the covers back to help you lay down. You grabbed onto his arm before he could move away.
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
"Yes." He pulled his arm away, making you whine as you had tried to bring him closer. "But you're drunk." He then tugged the covers over you and turned away.
"Poe?"
"Hm?"
"I think I like you or something."
"I think you 'like me or something', too."
"Do you like me?"
He sat down on the edge of your bed right next to you with a sigh, knowing that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. "I thought I made it obvious."
"Make it obvious-er."
"Obvious-er." He chuckled. "Okay. I thought you were hot the minute you joined my squadron. Then you fell off your ship and you wouldn't stop blushing, and I realized I wanted to make you blush all the time. It was cute." He looked at you to see you were fast asleep, smiling softly.
He kissed your forehead.
You swatted him away.
You knew you had too much to drink the moment you woke up.
Groaning, you tried to get out of bed, only to get caught up in the sheets and start to slip off the edge.
Imagine your surprise when an arm wrapped around you and pulled you back.
You reacted quickly, sending your elbow back and hitting their ribs. You took a bit of triumph in the pained cry that came from them.
"Hey. Hey! It's me!"
You looked over your shoulder. "—Poe?" There went that triumph, replaced with guilt over hitting him and then panic that you might have done something stupid. He was fully clothed, though, and a glance down at yourself told you that you were still in your clothes from the day before. "Did we—"
"No. You were drunk off your ass." He sat up, rubbing his side. "I stayed to make sure you didn't hurt yourself."
Oh, he was so nice. "I didn't do or say anything stupid, did I?"
"Besides professing your love for me?"
"What?!"
Never mind, he was terrible, with his terrible, teasing grin. "I'm kidding. You told me I was beautiful and had me make it obvious that I like you."
"That's no better than professing love." But you were curious. "How did you make it more obvious?"
"Mind if I give you the short version?"
You shrugged.
He kissed you.
You didn't swat him away.
You couldn't believe it was your clumsiness that won you the seemingly unobtainable Poe.
He was the man everyone wanted. The man who could have whoever he wanted.
Yet something made him see you and go, 'Yes, give me the one who falls off of things and walks into walls'.
You were far too happy to complain.
Oh, and there he was, all handsome, and happy, and rugged yet somehow soft. You weren't sure how he managed to be so many things that—
You had fallen for Poe Dameron and now you were actually falling, again, because why wouldn't you be? The toe of your boot had gotten caught on the edge of your cockpit as you were climbing out, making you tip off the side of your ship. It was getting old at this point.
Until strong arms caught you and you remembered the nice side of falling.
"Okay, seriously. Is this a habit of yours? Falling off of stuff?" Of course it was Poe, with a teasing grin.
You opened your mouth to sass him back, but he was so cute that you wrapped your arms around his neck instead. "Only when you're there to catch me."
"I'll always be there to catch you."
Then he was kissing you and you found it interesting that even though you had him now, he still made your stomach flutter and your cheeks turn pink.
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Text
don’t touch my stuff
Rocket Raccoon x Reader
Summary: requested by anonymous. the milano crew are stuck paying taxi to yondu, who quickly takes a liking to the reader. only problem is, she’s already involved with a certain raccoon, even if the others don’t know it yet.
Characters/Pairings: rocket x reader, peter quill x gamora, yondu udonta, drax, baby groot
Warnings: minor explicit language, unwanted flirting
Word Count: 2,346
MARVEL MASTERLIST
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You sat cross-legged and comfortable on the floor of the Milano’s main room, your paperback laying abandoned by your side. You’d intended just to read for a while, content to keep Rocket silent company as he worked on whatever new device he was creating. The two of you spent a lot of time like that; while neither of you addressed it, the friendship between you had grown into something more emotionally intimate in the last month or so, something neither of you had named. Still, you’d stopped picking up men at bars while at port, and Rocket slept curled against the small of your back more often than not. Whatever it was, you were keeping it to yourselves; you were still trying to come to grips with your feelings for the raccoon, and you didn’t need input from the others until you both knew where you stood.
Nothing had really changed between you outwardly; you still shared a bunk, you still sat by his side at dinner and you were still the one most likely not to suffer a shot from a blaster if a drunken Rocket had to be manhandled out of a bar. The others were in the cockpit, and you’d had about ten minutes of quiet (aside from the quiet backdrop of Quill’s mixtape) with your partner and book before you’d gotten distracted.
Not by Rocket – he was still fiddling with spare parts – but by the tiny tree that shared your bunk and would wake you up at night to beg for candy.
Your hands were raised in front of you, fingers twitching in the gestures you always used to shape and control your projections on a small scale. The mid-level ability to create psychokinetic force fields came with its perks, and while you didn’t have as much control as you liked, entertaining Groot on long treks between planets was definitely one of them. It might not have been the usual purpose, but you could always chalk it up to honing your reaction times. Besides, the little guy loved this game.
You were projecting a small, saucer-sized field about a foot or so above you for Groot to use as a platform. With a joyful cry he leapt off it blindly, and you quickly closed your fist to dissolve it while summoning up another with your other hand. You caught him about eight inches down and further away from you. He giggled as he landed, standing again and jumping on it excitedly. Every time his feet met it, ripples of blue-tinged energy would dance through it. Rocket glanced up at the two of you, an amused, affectionate expression on his face, one that he only let cross it when you were alone.
“I am Groot!”
“Yeah, I saw it, little man.” Rocket assured him, like a dad tiredly watching his kid on a diving board.
You wiggled your fingers experimentally, the shield expanding. Groot bounced around the edges of it happily before leaping off again. You caught him hastily with another projection, a few inches above Rocket’s head. The raccoon smirked up at him as Groot waved at him through it. You bit you lip and released the energy suddenly, bursting into laughter as the Flora Colossus fell straight onto your partner’s head.
Rocket cursed as his little friend tumbled down into his lap, glaring at you. You winked teasingly at him as Groot babbled away laughingly; the little guy immediately began tugging at the edge of Rocket’s jumpsuit, eager for him to join the two of you.
“You’re a frickin’ pain, you know that?” he huffed, trying to hide his smile. He shook Groot off and poked him in the belly when he pouted. Groot laughed again, wriggling away. “The both of ya.”
“Oh, please. You’ve been paying more attention to us than whatever the hell that is.” You taunted playfully, gesturing at the half-finished device in front of him. “Which is…?”
“Prototype.”
“How enlightening.”
“Shut your mouth, I’m workin’,” he grinned.
You snickered, beckoning Groot towards you. He scampered over excitedly. “Again?”
“I am Groot!”
“How about a speed run?” you suggested and he nodded, bracing himself like a runner at the starting line. You turned to Rocket. “Do the honors?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “On your marks… Get set… Go!”
You summoned a force field, dissolving it and creating another in front of it almost immediately after Groot jumped upon it. He ran over each of them, and you both continued all the way to the table in the middle of the room. When Groot’s feet met the tabletop you both cheered, Rocket clapping behind you in amusement. You stood and stretched, stiff from sitting on the hard floor.
“Well, ain’t you just full of surprises?”
You turned around, caught off-guard. Yondu Udonta was leaning against the wall by the cockpit’s ladder. Quill followed him down and gave you a friendly wink, taking a seat at the table and planting his feet on it.
He was doing his old captain a favor – Yondu needed to get somewhere Ravager ships weren’t welcome, but thanks to the events on Xandar, the Milano was the exception. So, you were all stuck playing taxi for a while.
You flushed and stiffened uncomfortably; you weren’t used to people seeing you use your abilities, not in a personal setting. You saw Rocket straighten in your periphery, ears up, no doubt noticing your wariness. “Can I help you with something?”
Yondu smirked widely at you, touching his tongue to a canine. “Haven’t decided yet. I’m Yondu.”
“She knows who you are, ya moron.” Rocket interjected sarcastically as he tossed his work aside and moved to your side, arms folded. You coughed to smother a laugh. “How many ugly-ass blue guys you think Quill knows?”
“Rocket…” Quill groaned, exasperated.
“Missed you too, Rat.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m Y/N.”
“Ain’t you just…” Yondu replied, giving you an appraising look that made you very aware of the tightness of your jeans. It was kind of strange; he had the same kind of charm to him that Quill did, and you had to wonder if Quill had purposely picked up Yondu’s mannerisms, or if it had been subconscious. Either way, it was uncanny; the look he gave you was the same one Peter had once upon a time, and just like then, you ignored it. You saw Quill shake his head exasperatedly out of the corner of your eye. “What exactly is it you were doin’, darlin’?”
“I, uh…” you cleared your throat. “I make shields.”
“Shields?”
“Like… force fields.”
“Out of thin air?”
“…with my brain?”
“You just think it and ‘poof’?”
“Something like that.”
“She’s a hell of an asset in a fight,” Quill interjected, and you shot him a small smile. “Stand out in the open with her and they can’t land a single shot.”
“And what does that make you exactly, girlie?” Yondu asked, stepping away from the wall and towards you as Drax descended the ladder.
“She’s Terran.” Rocket said sourly. He knew, as did the rest of crew, that you’d had a hard time coming to terms with your mutant genes back on Terra. Your time at the Charles Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters had helped you learn to control and appreciate your abilities, but the idea that people would consider you abnormal still stung. “Just like Quill.”
“Except for her mutation. Quill doesn’t have one of those.” Drax pointed out casually, and you glared at him. The smallest of growls rumbled through Rocket’s throat. “What?”
“You one of them mutants, then?”
“If you want to get all technical about it.”
“Wanna show me what you can do?”
“You get any closer and you’re gonna find out.” you dead-panned, and Rocket sniggered. Quill coughed to cover a laugh of his own.
“Is that a promise?” Yondu said suggestively.
“Ugh,” you groaned. “I’m going to my bunk.”
***
Yondu paid particular attention to you over the next few days; dropping comments whenever you came in the room. It was easy to ignore, but you could tell that it was starting to get to Rocket. He tensed every time Yondu came into the room, so you’d taken to avoiding him just to keep Rocket relaxed.
It wasn’t until his third night on the ship that it became an actual issue. Quill, Drax and Yondu had broken out some of the heavier stuff early in what would be considered the afternoon, the roar of their laughter and macho posturing echoing through the ship. You’d eventually convinced Rocket to join them, insisting he have a good time.
You had joined Gamora in the cockpit and taken the opportunity to ride shotgun and get a kind of intro course into flying. You’d spent a few hours with her, Groot scrambling happily underfoot, and while Gamora was quieter than your male cohort, she was wonderful company. She’d watched with interest as you’d tried projecting a shield around Groot instead of in front of him; she’d offered to help with more hands-on training once you were planet-side.
Quill had called you both down for food some time later, and while Gamora had rolled her eyes at the slurring of his speech, she’d set the Milano to auto-pilot and the two of you had gone down to join them, Groot riding on the assassin’s shoulder.
The four of them were sitting around the table, drinks in hand. Rocket stole a quick glance at you as you passed, a drunken, affectionate smile on his mouth and a twitch in his ears. Gamora touched a hand to Quill’s shoulder as she passed, and his came up to brush over it.
“Is this a liquid dinner?” you asked in amusement, noting the complete lack of food on the table. “Cause if you’re expecting us to make it… Well, Gamora won’t be impressed.” You caught her smirking at that.
Quill looked sheepish, but Drax had no qualms about speaking up. “Gamora is too formidable to expect that from, Y/N. But you are much more suited to domestic work.”
Quill let out a dramatic gasp at that and Yondu snorted. They’d had more than you’d thought.
“Thanks, buddy.” You said sarcastically, but you rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen. “You’re gonna pay for that later.”
“I am not afraid of doing battle with you!” Drax declared loudly.
“Oh, not in battle, my friend,” you told him as you returned, hauling with you a bunch of snack food. Not the healthiest dinner, but maybe the salt would help sober them up. “Get used to freezing showers.”
Rocket laughed at that, and you winked at him as you passed around food.
“Thanks, darlin’.” Yondu drawled, and you faltered as you felt his hand caress your backside. You spun around, instinctively summoning up a force field between the two of you. It stretched floor to ceiling and was big enough that it knocked him off his chair, and Drax roared with laughter at the bewildered expression on the blue man’s face.
“What the hell’d you do that for?!” Yondu said, clambering to his feet.
“You don’t touch me,” you said, voice hard despite its wavering. You weren’t used to projecting shields so large, and you realized it had been hours since you’d last eaten. Your head spun slightly.
“What’d he just do?” Rocket demanded, standing on his chair. His voice was still thick with alcohol, but his tone was serious now. “What did you just do?!”
“Rocket, man, what’s your problem?” Quill had straightened slightly in his seat, but Gamora looked surprisingly calm beside him. Maybe even a little proud.
“Did you just touch her?” Rocket was off his seat and in front of you before you’d even realized it. You felt dizzy, and your hand found the tabletop for support. Low blood sugar was a bitch. “You don’t get to touch her.”
“Rocket…”
“Man, relax!” Quill was now out of his seat, hands up in a pacifying gesture. Last thing he needed were holes in his ship.
“You got a problem with that, Rat?” Yondu challenged defensively, ego bruised.
“Yeah, I got a problem, asshole.” Rocket slurred angrily. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine!”
“What’s yours?” Quill repeated, the slightest hint of amusement to his words. “Rocket, have you got a crush?”
Drax’s laughter renewed, almost painfully loud, and he almost fell out of his chair himself. “The rodent has feelings for the Terran!”
Rocket snarled, hackles raised as he turned on the two of them. Despite the increasingly uncomfortable dizziness you were feeling, you held out your hand and projected a small shield in front of him, barely the size of a baseball. Still, he stopped, glancing down at it and then at you.
“It’s okay, Rocket. I’m fine…”
“He’s—”
You closed your hand, the shield dissipating, and reached out shakily to stroke the fur behind his ear. You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”
“Uh, Y/N…?”
You stiffened slightly, hand halting, before turning to face the others. “You got something to say, Peter?”
He hesitated, before shaking his head. “Nope, I’m just very, very, drunk.”
“Good.” You nodded, turning to the Destroyer. “Drax? You laugh at Rocket one more time and I find out what happens when I project a force field inside someone.”
Oh my God, you actually made Drax the Destroyer gulp. Gamora, who seemed to be taking this revelation pretty much in stride, looked somehow more proud than before.
“You—” you pointed a finger at Yondu, who was watching the whole situation unfurl with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Touch me again and we’re gonna have a problem. Otherwise, we’re all good.”
“’ppreciate it.” He replied, nodding and helping himself to another drink. “Tell you what, Rat. You got yourself a hell of a spitfire there.”
There was a cockiness in Rocket’s expression that almost made you roll your eyes, but it disappeared under the blooming affection he wore as he looked at you. “Yeah. She’s got me, too.”
.
.
.
tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @moon-tastic
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missing-marvel · 6 years
Text
Breaking and Entering
Pairing: Peter Parker/Reader
Tags: Angst, Nightmares, Comfort
A/N: Starting off this blog with an angsty one
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“Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go...”
When the moon, Titan, faded away, the dim interior of the bedroom took its place. Peter woke up from the dream again, as he had done so many times since being brought back. Everyone had been resurrected (with use of the time stone, naturally) and Thanos ultimately defeated, but not even Tony Stark could explain how Peter kept dreaming of his own death. The only thing for certain was that the dream never changed, and Peter never forgot it. He used to wake up gasping and shaking, a cold sweat overtaking his body. Anymore, he just woke up.
Since he’d gotten back, he decided to pay more attention to the few loved ones he had. He still went out most nights, but he stayed out of Avengers work. He was just your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man, at least for awhile. He wanted to spend more time with his friends, with Aunt May, and especially with you. He hadn’t told you about his dreams yet, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. You wouldn’t talk about it but from what he heard from Ned and Aunt May, you'd been through a pretty rough time when he died.
‘I was really dead...’ he thought, not for the first time. He could still barely process that fact. He had so many thoughts going through his brain, it felt like his head was going to burst. He just wanted a little peace, and maybe some fresh air...
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to force himself back to sleep, he got up and threw on a jacket before grabbing his mask and web-shooters. He couldn’t leave, however, without leaving a note for Aunt May saying where he was. He quickly scribbled a note on scrap paper and stuck it to the outside of his bedroom door before climbing out the window and heading off into the chilly night air.
——
Somewhere, only a short bus ride away, you tossed and turned, haunted by dreams of your own.
‘Tony! You’re okay!’ You ran up to a dejected Tony Stark and threw your arms around him in relief. You hadn’t been able to join the fight in Wakanda, but you'd watched as people all around began dissolving into ash at random. You had listened in horror as Steve had filled you in on what had happened. You had never seen the Captain look this beaten down.
Now you watched as two passengers stepped out of a spaceship that was barely holding it together. Only two. You barely registered the strange blue and purple woman when you ran to Tony. As you wrapped your arms around the man that was the closest thing you had to a father, you could sense the grief coming off of him in waves.
‘Kid...’ he mumbled, his voice giving out. You let go of him as your mind raced to the worst conclusions.
‘Tony, where’s Pete?” you asked hesitantly, taking a cautious step back. Tony tensed up and refused to make eye contact. He raised a hand to his face in exasperation.
“Tony,” you said firmly, trying not to let your voice waver, yet failing. “Where is he? Where is Peter?!” Knowing you wouldn’t get an answer from him, you quickly marched around Tony and towards the battered ship. You called out for Peter in the hopes that he was just on the ship still.
As you called his name a second time, your voice cracked and you were grabbed by the arm and forced to stop. You turned to see Tony, his face red and his expression darker than you'd ever seen before.
“He’s gone. He’s gone. I lost him...” You shook your head in denial as tears threatened to spill. You tried to speak, but no sound would come out. You weakly tried to pry your arm from Tony’s grasp but he in turn moved to wrap his arms around you, shielding you as you wept. The two of you stayed in grief-stricken silence for what felt like an eternity.
——
You woke up freezing. In your fitful sleep, you seemed to have thrown all of your blankets on the floor. You quickly got up, picked up one of the discarded blankets, and wrapped it around yourself. Still lost in the thought of your dream, or memory, as it had been, you padded through the dark apartment to the kitchen.
You'd only recently moved back into your apartment. After Thanos, the team thought it best if you moved back to the compound for awhile. It was difficult enough for them to let a teenager stay in the city alone, doing so after half the planet disappeared was out of the question.
Boxes that had yet to be unpacked littered the floor of the dark room. You nearly tripped on one on your way to the kitchen, but caught yourself just in time. You made a point to tread more carefully. Just as you reached the kitchen however, a loud crash suddenly sounded from your left, right in the middle of the living area.
Before you even had a chance to think, you picked up the first thing you could reach and hurtled it towards the intruder reflexively. In the commotion, your blanket fell to the floor and with it, your phone. As it clattered to the floor, the screen lit up, briefly illuminating the room ever so slightly. In the dim light, you saw a figure standing by the wall next to the light switch. They let out a cry as the object you threw just barely missed its mark and you immediately recognized the voice.
“Peter, what the hell?!” you shouted, the lights coming on as Peter flipped the nearby switch. You ran to your boyfriend and immediately checked to make sure he was okay.
“That was an idiotic thing to do, even for you! What were you thinking?” You punched him on the arm before pulling him into a tight embrace. Almost immediately, you noticed he wasn’t wearing the Spidey-suit. In fact, he was wearing pajamas, suggesting he came directly from home. Something must be wrong.
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I was just going to wake you myself. I didn’t think I needed to turn the lights on. I think I knocked over a-a couple boxes or something. I hope those weren’t fragile...” Despite being with you for over a year now (well, if you count the time he was dead), he was still as awkward as he’d always been. Under better circumstances, you'd find it endearing.
You let go of the poor guy and took a step back. You sighed and noticed Peter had his web-shooters on and his mask in hand.
“What are you doing here Peter? It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong?” you questioned. Peter sort of sighed and looked down at the floor, almost like he was embarrassed. He fidgeted with the mask in his hands and suddenly wondered if this was a bad idea. He had no reason to be here, he thought. He was being a nuisance, an annoyance, a-
“Pete...” you whispered, placing your hands gently on his shoulders and planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head before taking his fidgeting hands in your own to steady them.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, Peter still keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. “You can tell me anything, remember, but I won’t make you. Whatever you need.” With that, Peter realized, not for the first time and likely not for the last, just how much he loved you. Being over a year his senior, both in age and experience as an Avenger, Peter worried sometimes that you would... outgrow him. You would move on and not need him anymore. It was times like this that reaffirmed him that you loved him as much as he loved you. He responded only by wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he could without hurting you, and you returned the embrace. He held onto you as if for dear life as his emotions seemed to tumble over the proverbial edge.
Every since he’d “come back,” so to speak, it was always "I’m here to talk,” or “Do you want to talk about it?” from everyone. Peter appreciated it, truly, but sometimes it just didn’t help. The thing that you always understood was when he didn’t want to talk about it; when he didn’t want to relive the moment that still gave him nightmares. The moment that all of his senses were screaming at him, telling him what was about to happen and he was powerless to stop it; the moment when he had forgotten everything and all he felt was fear. So no, sometimes he didn’t want to talk about it. That didn't mean he was okay, however, and you could tell. He didn’t have to say a word to you and yet you would just know. Most importantly, you were just there. You were there when he needed you and in turn, he tried to do the same.
Tonight was one of those nights. Tonight he needed you, needed to just be next to you. From the second you laid eyes on him, you understood that. Peter had planned to tell you about the nightmares tonight. He wanted to, really, but now he thought against it. You didn’t need to hear it yet. You would, eventually, perhaps even tomorrow, but right now you both were silent.
You were utterly silent as you held onto the boy who might just be the most important person in your life. You could guess that what had happened was eating away at him. You were determined to help to him, to get him through the difficult nights or the days that weighed on him, and he did the same for you. Peter was the boy that had reminded you that humanity still had hope, that not all was lost. He was your hope, and you would stick with him through everything.
“Come on,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “I’m sure you haven’t hardly slept.” Peter let you go and whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ as you picked the blanket up off the floor and draped it around both of your shoulders. As you made your way from the living room, Peter reached to flip the light switch, plunging the apartment once again into a quiet darkness.
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artistic-writer · 6 years
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Between Now and Nether :: Ch 8 :: A CS AU
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Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer  [full res fanart]
Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?
Rating: T+
AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8]
A/N: Now.  This chapter may shock you.  Twice.  Just when you are getting over the revelation i am about to drop on you, i hit you again, with another shocker.  I seriously thought @kmomof4 was going to have a heart attack when she beta’d this chapter lol  So i hope you like it as much.
Thos looking for it on AO3 will not find it until i am home.  Sorry guys, but i wanted to queue this post for you so you could at least read it whilst I was busy working my ass off! XD
Enjoy your second helping!
Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)
Huge thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @rouhn  and @wordsmith-storyweaver for your advice and suggestions.  This fic would just be so much worse without you guys! <3
Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @resident-of-storybrooke @hookedonapirate  @kmomof4 @galadriel26 @yellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @the-captains-ayebrows  @yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @takhisismb @officerrogerss  @kiwistreetswan @distant-rose  @aye-captn @wellhellotragic  @depechemode75
If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 9!
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There were very few things as satisfying as hearing confirmation of a deed well done.  For far too long, the name ‘Jones’ had given him a deep-seated hatred for all things cop.  Well, being the head of an international crime syndicate was more than enough reason to hate cops, but luckily for him, a deal had been brokered and it was done.
When Jones had relocated to the states and become a cop, he had been on him almost instantly.  It started out small, tit for tat, arresting a few of his men here and there and making his presence known.  Gold knew he was watching him, Jones had even gone as far as to tell him face to face in a very public restaurant, and at first, Gold had found it endearing.  He knew he was untouchable.  He hadn’t built a crime empire because he had been put off by one cop.
Over the years, Jones became a problem.  More than a few of his good men were now in prison, and for their silence and discretion, Gold paid them by taking care of their families on the outside.  It was becoming increasingly more costly to take care of old employees and hire new ones.  And good guys didn’t come cheap, their skills tailoring to one specialty that meant he would have to hire multiple men for a single job.  Gold missed the days gangsters and thieves had their fingers in many, many pies.
And then there were the dirty cops he kept on the books, just as expensive as the next drug runner or hitman.  They helped him out of many predicaments, simply sweeping his deeds under the carpet where they were lost in cold cases.  For years, Gold managed to grow, expanding his reach across America, selling drugs, weapons, people, whatever he could to make a profit.  Mr. Gold was his real name and he lived up to his wealth every single day, appearing only dressed in fine, fitted suits, always cleanly shaven and never without his cane.  It was expensive, one of a kind and custom made, and despite the fact he had zero need for it, Gold always liked to use it to give the impression of weakness.
If your enemy underestimated your strength, it made it easier to overthrow them.
But then, the young rookie with a hero complex named Jones appeared in his life and Gold began to notice a change.  His men began to shy away from his orders, questioning his motives because they were seemingly afraid of this Jones character.  It irritated Gold, so naturally, he had tried to buy the cop off.  Jones declined his offer and with some choice words, the pair began their conflict.
It continued for years and he watched the rookie grow into a detective, given more power with his new job title and more access to dig into Gold’s life.  Jones made it his personal mission to bring Gold down, using every single free moment he had to find ways to mess with him.  
Jones had once said something about killing his parents, believing Gold responsible for the night they were gunned down in an alleyway and stripped of their valuables.  Gold didn’t remember everyone he had murdered when he was starting his empire, especially two nobodies who were probably just a means to an end, so with a sideways smirk and a dead-eye stare, Gold had told him he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger and had Jones escorted from his office.
Finally, Gold had endured enough and wanted Jones gone.  The man couldn’t be bought.  He was a very large thorn in Gold’s side and on top of all of his agitation, Gold had to spend even more money to take him out.
Killing a cop didn’t come cheap.
The office Gold frequented was always dark and cold.  Dust covered every surface and the lights were dimmed all along the hallway.  Gold had no heavies guarding him, his office at the very back of the shop Gold kept as a money laundering front.  It was inconspicuous, a simple antique store from the outside, selling many high priced items that covered part of his underhanded business earnings, and Gold had settled here to be alone.  People always called him The Dark One and it was starting to become clear as to why.  
The door loomed at the end of the hall, one single light hanging over the door frame and shining a spot of subdued orange onto the floor.  It was a mark, the last circle of light in the darkness.  And it was petrifying.
The door opened and Gold stood with a steady grin spread across his face.
“Detective,” he greeted, motioning into the blackened room behind him.
“Gold.”  With a nod, the detective squeezed past Gold, entering the darkened room that instantly felt even colder than the hall.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Gold pushed the door closed behind them, unable to stop the sly smile on his face.  He took a step into the room, leaning on his cane resting in front of him.
“It’s done,” the detective said quickly, looking at his feet and scratching at the scruff on his chin before pushing his hands into his pockets.
“Straight to the point, detective.  I like it,” Gold grinned, enjoying the way he could hear the detective’s heartbeat pounding in his chest.
“I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.  It’s done.”
“Is it now?”  Gold licked his lips, his sinister voice hanging thick in the air.
“I saw the body myself.”
“That was part of the deal,” Gold smirked, watching the detective squirm under his gaze.
“You bastard! He was my colleague, a fellow detective,” the raised tone of his voice cracked under his emotion.
In a flash, Gold was at his side, cane digging into the top of his foot through his boot and a strangled cry tumbling from his mouth.  “You should have thought of that before you joined him in his crusade,” Gold spat.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”
“Uh Uh Uh,” Gold chimed, removing his cane from the detective's foot and grabbing the man by the face, his nail digging into his chubby cheeks.  Gold didn’t have to say anything else.  The detective was silenced immediately and Gold loosened his grip, giving him a playful slap on the face.
“Jones was a good man, a good detective…”
“Jones was hell-bent on ruining me,” Gold growled, banging his cane on the floor with an echo.  “Nobody will know it was you,” Gold assured the sweating detective.  “You’ll get a new partner and everything will blow over when this turns into a cold case.”
“Why me?  I have a family,” he implored.
“We all have our price,” Gold grinned, turning away.  “Yours just happens to be a lot lower than I had expected.”
“So our deal is done now?  Is my debt cleared?”
Gold laughed, a sadistic rumble in the back of his throat and he shook his head.  “I want one more thing,” Gold smiled wickedly, pressing a long, bony finger to his lips and stepping towards the shorter man once more.  When he gave him a questioning look, Gold bared his teeth.  “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say it.  Out loud.  I want to revel in the joy of the words as they fall from your mouth,” Gold twirled his hand in the air beside his head and spun on his heels, his dramatics bordering on joyously evil.
“I…”
“Yes, that’s it, go on,” Gold whispered darkly.
“I...I killed Liam Jones.”
An impish giggle escaped Gold’s lips and he slapped the detective on the shoulder proudly,  licked his lips and looked over at the shaking detective.  God, he loved breaking people.  “There, there, Leroy,” he said in a sickly sweet tone that made Leroy’s skin crawl.  “Now we are even.”
It was not long after the older Jones had met his demise when the younger Jones began snooping around, digging into his brother’s case files, connecting the dots.  Gold had a muscle in his jaw that he hadn’t flexed since the day Liam Jones had been gunned down by an ‘unknown assailant’.  He had learned to relax it, keep his anger at bay and focus on the more intricate sides of his business.  Until now.
Killian Jones was more tenacious, a little smarter and not as hot-headed as the older Jones.  It made him a more dangerous adversary, one that Gold could not give an inch.  Where Liam was a bull, rushing in and aggressively threatening Gold with what little power he actually did have, Killian was a fox, picking off Gold’s men one by one like chickens in a hen house.
If he didn’t stop the younger Jones soon, he could become a real credible threat to the Gold empire.
“They attend the Nolan Charity Gala every year,” his henchman grunted, handing Gold a photo of Killian Jones exiting his home in a fine tuxedo suit and his pretty girlfriend on his arm.  “They have to attend,” he tapped the picture when Gold rested it on the desk.  “This is Emma Swan.”
“The wife?” Gold looked up at him.
“She wishes,” he scoffed.  “Her brother is David Nolan.”
“Interesting,” Gold looked back to the photo.  “And you can make this look like an accident?”
The man, Hyde, nodded confidently.  “Absolutely.  I have the perfect guy.  He owes me.”
Gold’s face lit up at the prospect of a deal.  “You have a negotiation?”
“We will have,” Hyde shrugged.  “Jefferson has a very low price.”
The impish giggle that Gold was so known for escaped through his gleaming grin.  “The Gala is Friday night,” Gold said seriously, losing his smile and sliding the photo back across the table.  “Make sure he does not make it.”
“Of course, Mr. Gold.  Consider Killian Jones a dead man.”
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