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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

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let's talk about lily evans and the marauders, aka moony, wormtail, padfoot and prongs. given that i didn't use their actual names, i think you can figure out where this is going. it's also long as hell, so. canon vs fanon, marauder edition, except snek is sleep deprived.

now, before we begin, i don't dislike the marauders. or lily, tbh. if I'm being perfectly, genuinely honest, i still go back and forth sometimes but they've been growing on me for a while now. the canon versions, at least. fanon does them real dirty, and that's part of why i'm writing this, because i'm genuinely tired of it. it's an injustice.

you can at least make excuses for james and lily, who were so undeveloped that jkr practically dropped a fill-in-the-blank sheet of character information in our laps, but sirius, remus and peter were around long enough for y'all to get real acquainted with them.

in canon, sirius black is an unhinged mf. genuinely. this isn't to say he's a bad guy, in fact, we see that he's still capable of doing good things, still capable of love, still capable of all the things that prove he's actually not bad at heart, just,,, severely traumatised and very steeped in negativity from his time with the dementors. what i'm saying is that this man is absolutely, no questions asked, no holds barred demented, and how could he not be? the guy sat wrongfully imprisoned in azkaban for twelve years, a good portion of which he spent as a dog in order to protect himself from the dementors. he certainly wasn't completely insane, but you cannot tell me that he was all there. he got out of azkaban fuelled almost solely by the intent to get revenge on pettigrew, tried to commit murder in front of three witnesses who were also children—one of whom was his godson—ate rats and was also malnourished, which i'm certain did not help the situation any. this man is off his goddamn rocker, and you know what? you love to see it. good for him.

oh, but, snek, that's what he's like as an adult. what about when they were at school? before azkaban? my guy, the reaction he has to grimmauld place is not the reaction of someone without trauma. i don't believe that walburga and orion were the type to physically abuse their children, but whatever happened in that house helped to fuck him up enough that he skipped the joke of part of practical joke, and pranked snape by telling him how to meet a werewolf that he knew would be fully transformed and dangerous to humans. more than that, the werewolf was remus, whom he's friends with, and who—best case scenario—would be facing a trial if james hadn't stepped in. you can say that maybe he didn't think about or understand the gravitas of his actions, but at the end of it, that's not how properly sane people react to people they dislike, and that's not how they treat their friends. if anything, it reads like he was in the middle of a breakdown and absolutely losing his shit and he wasn't thinking at all.

my guy went through some serious shit, and was in no way completely mentally stable. we can see pretty clearly that he's got a serious dark side to him that probably would have gone unbridled had he not disagreed with his family, and yet, fanon took one look at him and went, "teehee, uwu bad boi go vroom."

fanon said padfoot is a pretty boy with nice hair who is tastefully traumatised from his horribly abusive household. sirius rides his motorcycle and plays jokes and flirts with anything that moves, but he can do no real wrong and always comes back to his soft, bookish, chocolate-loving boyfriend remus, who will laugh about his lycanthropy and quietly disapprove but secretly laugh at his friends' antics while hiding his smile in his cardigan.

respectfully, what in the absolute fuck.

i'd put that meme in here if i could, the one that's like, "well done, you've broken _______ down to its bare essentials," but no. i can't bc it doesn't even apply. this isn't a meme, it's theseus' fucking ship.

fanon broke it down, and replaced the pieces one by one until we got to this point, where we need to sit down and ask ourselves, "is this even the same character?"

the answer is no, by the way. it isn't. when people talk about woobifying characters—you know, taking away every flaw they have, romanticising everything they do and making them only capable of doing good, wonderful, lovely things?—this is what we mean.

and it'd be one thing if it was just the one character, but, no. fanon went all in and made them all squeaky clean and boring, especially peter, who draws the shortest of the straws.

remus got fucked, too. not just because fanon insists on sticking him into a relationship with sirius. which, we'll tackle wolfstar in a bit, but that's not even the worst of it. here, we have yet another example of blatant, rampant woobifying. again, is he a bad person? no. we know he's a good guy, we know he's generally kind and well-mannered, we know that he wants to fo the right thing but hey, fun fact. did you know that you can be nice and a coward? did you know that you can be benevolent and good and kindly and have the greatest of intentions and still be shady as fuck? no? ask dumbledore. the man played people like chess pieces when he needed to, and he was a twinkly grandpa. these are things that can coexist.

teenage remus is a coward who, understandably, does not stand up to his friends, likely for fear of being ostracised, and doesn't uphold his prefect duties as he should and takes part in their bullying of snape as a result. he lets them romp with him in werewolf form while they are in their animagus forms and then, he lets them continue to do so even after they have multiple close calls, which, again, had anything happened, would have resulted in a trial in the best case scenario.

grownup remus is still a coward, he tells no one that sirius can move about the school in his animagus form despite wholeheartedly believing that he's a mass murderer, he tries to run out on his wife and unborn kid. he isn't deliberately making attempts to harm anyone, but he's content to sit back and let things happen to him and around him so he doesn't rock the boat, although he is capable of action, which we see when he is more than willing to help sirius merk pettigrew in the shack. he can be careless, he runs out to the shack knowing he hasn't taken his wolfsbane and ends up transforming in front of the students he, as a teacher, is meant to be protecting. of course, this doesn't negate his good qualities, it just bears repeating that his flaws do exist, and they're pretty serious.

fanon moony is always pleasant and kind and soft-spoken and bookish, and he always has to have his chocolate. he knows when to tell off his friends, and he'll do it, even if he's secretly amused by everything they do and laughs about it with his best friend, lily evans, who coincidentally spends all her time with them so he and sirius can go on double dates with james and lily and no one has to remember peter exists.

why. theseus' ship 2.0. does the actual character still exist or is this something entirely different thing bearing the same name?

as for peter, who needs peter pettigrew, the actual, legitimate, fourth marauder when you have lily evans? canon pettigrew is opportunistic as fuck. he's latching himself to the biggest bad on the block and he's going all in. for teenage peter, that was james and sirius, and for adult peter, that's voldemort. canon peter is good enough at transfiguration to master the animagus transformation, just like his friends, and he's good enough at potions to brew the potion that gives voldemort a body. and honestly, you can't say he wasn't brave. he could've run off somewhere and died, or changed his identity or something after he faked his death and framed sirius, but, no. he goes and resurrects voldemort. that's fucked up, yeah, but it happened and honestly, i respect that it. he stuck to his guns.

fanon wormtail is lucky if he exists beyond being a spineless sycophant for james and sirius, or an evil conniving little rat who's looking to toss his entire friend group to the wolves at eleven.

of course, this isn't meant to negate his bad qualities, he still murdered people and framed sirius and sold out the potters to die, but his good characteristics do exist, and james, sirius and remus genuinely were his friends.

and now, we get to lily and james.

we have hardly any information on either of them. they're a pair of cardboard cutouts that we can paint and stick flyers to and colour outside the lines however we want. we can do whatever the fuck, as long lily is brave and smart and somewhat kind and james is brave and willing to die for his family. we were essentially handed a pair of ocs.

and yet.

what little bits of canon we have are thrown out of the window regardless.

james is privileged and rich, and he throws hexes for fun. he's willing to hex lily when she disagrees with him, and then, he goes behind her back to continue hexing snape after she believes that he's stopped doing so. and that's all we know about him until he dies for his family at twenty-one years old. once again, say it with me: this does not negate his good qualities. he definitely had them, he took sirius in when sirius ran away from home, he became an animagus to keep remus company as a wolf, and he saved snape in the shack, thereby saving remus and sirius by extension. him having flaws does not make him a bad person.

fanon prongs is a feminist. he fights for equal rights for women everywhere, and he constantly treats his girlfriend, lily, like an absolute queen. he's the hottest boy in school and everyone claps when he walks through the halls. mcgonagall and dumbledore are always patting him on the back and making jokes with him. he has a built-in dark detector that helps him sense when someone is a evil and needs to he punished.

give me a break. the dude's cool and all, but was the gary stu treatment necessary?

...oh, he needed to match fanon lily? right, right.

canon lily is a contradiction unto herself. she's supposedly a great friend, but since we see her at a point where they were already drifting apart, we see her putting little effort into keeping their friendship afloat. she victim blames based on rumours, she doesn't seem to care over much about what snape has to say about the people who have been tormenting him since day one. and she's justified, of course, she doesn't have to stick around. canon lily is a bit of hypocrite, she says that snape calls everyone of her birth mudblood, but then that begs the question why she still hangs around with him if that's the case. he calls her mudblood, she retaliates by calling him snivellus, and finishes up with a dig about his underwear, which, sure, it's kicking a man with a rusty spoon and pouring salt in the wound, but she's, again, justified. i get where she was coming from. and then, of course, she dies for her kid after marrying the guy who relentlessly bullied her quote-unquote best friend for their entire school careers. but, like i said, canon lily is, in many ways, a contradiction.

lily is basically a plot device. she pushes everyone's narrative but her own, and does little else.

of course, this trend would continue in fanon. fanon lily exists to be the perfect girl who gets really angry over the slightest injustice, and of course, she gets to be one half of one of the oldest enemies-to-lovers "it was just sexual tension" cliche pairings in the book. she's just,,, a mary sue. in so many fics, so many headcanons, she's just pettigrew's stand-in, a girl to form a gang with marlene, mary and dorcas—who happen to be more undeveloped ocs who also get the woobify mary sue treatment—to parallel the marauders. there is nothing compelling about her character when she's presented as a saint, and even less when she's supposedly the other moral compass for the marauders that doesn't actually work because she thinks that james is cute.

and this brings me to the next topic. jily. what, why, how. this was supposed to be a healthy, happy relationship that would have lasted in the long run? absolutely not. even for its time, i can't say that i see it lasting.

first of all, jkr presents james' crush on lily as just that: a crush. a mildly obsessive one, but a crush nonetheless, which she tries to liken to the pulling of pigtails. and then, we see that james' way of getting her to go out with him consists of blackmail, and when that doesn't work, he resorts to threatening her. this could have been set aside if he had actually, genuinely changed when they started spending more time together, but as we're told by sirius and remus, he didn't. he just got better at hiding what he was up to. and it has to be that he hid it, because if she knew, this further damages the character that she's set up to have and paints her out to be either unable to stand up to him or an enabler.

regardless, they get married. and while i have trouble believing that it was out of genuine love, there are scenarios that could make some semblance of sense. it's wartime, after all, and maybe lily is worried about her stability in the wizarding world, so why not marry into an established family whose son is already showing interest? or perhaps, she falls into the trap of every bad boy cliche ever, and she thinks to herself, well, i got him to be better then, maybe i can get him to do even better in the future. or maybe, she doesn't get into a relationship with him immediately and sees him on and off, until eventually, she accidentally gets pregnant and they scramble to have a shotgun wedding so as not to leave lily alone at nineteen with a baby. or maybe they marry each other because they're there and sure, neither of then is ready and they don't know what love even is but what else is there to do when there's a dark lord about? anyways, the point is, they get married.

and then what? if we count pottermore into canon, he goes on to further damage her relationship with petunia and vernon, to the point where she ends up crying. if we don't, she fades into the background enough that nobody has anything to say about her. she's harry's mum, she's james' wife, lily potter, she was kind and smart and brave and that's it. her agency is gone, anything else we have of her personality is gone.

jily just,,, wasn't built to last. and, yeah, this,,, this is a hill i'll die on.

same with wolfstar, honestly. there are so many reasons why it wouldn't work, but fanon has made it so fucking prevalent that it's literally everywhere no matter where you look.

first of all, i've said it before and i'll say it again. sirius is more likely to get with james that he is to ever end up in a relationship with remus. their chemistry is just,,, underdeveloped. net zero for a relationship.

secondly, sirius instigated the werewolf prank, and lupin would have paid the price for it. this could have been overlooked, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit guilty about any of it when it's brought up in poa. he could have been responsible for lupin losing the security of his place at hogwarts in the best case scenario, and in the worst case, his life. and he seems to look forward to full moons, even though they clearly aren't pleasant for remus, which,,, yeah, you're going to have fun, but like, maybe be concerned about the fact that your friend undergoes excruciating pain and it isn't a pleasant time for him? read the room, my g.

thirdly, they don't trust each other as much as fanon seems to think they do. they were both willing to believe each other the traitor before ever suspecting pettigrew. sirius thought remus gave away the potters, hell, he thought remus was a spy for voldemort, and remus was convinced that sirius was a mass murderer. neither of them needed to be convinced.

fourthly, maybe i'm reading too much into it, but like. sirius had money. remus had no money, since, yk, he was a werewolf and struggling for cash and still, sirius,,, did not leave him any money. i feel like if you had money to spare, you would give to your friend who is literally poor. but, again, maybe i'm reading too much into it and this isn't as valid a point as i think it is.

and ehh, the fifth reason is that it's,,, actually very much not the representation for the ltgbt community that fanon says it is but y'all aren't ready for that conversation.

anyways, just,,, even when you set the couple shit aside, the power dynamics between everyone here is fucked. like, james and sirius are clearly at the top of food chain calling the shots and egging each other on. then there's lily, who isn't even a marauder, but is always ever-so-slightly above remus but still not on their level, because, well. neither of them actually listen to her. remus is the novelty friend, the friend who's,,, alright, i guess, but you keep them around specifically because they're funny or they can dance or they have something that you can either show off to other people or keep as your little inside joke, your little secret, yk? and peter is just sort of there. like, yeah, he can do what we can but does that make him as good as we are? no. does he have a funny little something about him that we can exploit? nah. therefore he sits at the bottom. and like, yeah, james and sirius are on the same level, but james is yanking sirius' chain, not the other way around. anyways, like i said. power dynamic's fucked and it bothers me that we were given all of this, and fanon decided to take it all and throw it away so they could give us flamboyant!badboi!sirius black x softboi!motherhen!remus lupin going on double dates with feminist!trustfundbaby!james potter and saint!lily evans while ignoring peter pettiwho?

theseus' fucking ship, indeed.

anyways, this needed to be said. it might not make as much sense as i want it to, considering it's 4:12 in the morning as i'm posting this, after taking a break from writing to do some research and coming across way too much content about fanon marauders, but it's here and it still makes enough sense that you can read it and understand what i mean. and like, at the end of the day, you can go ahead and headcanon whatever you please, you can write fic and make art and do whatever you like, just,,, remember that they're exactly that. headcanons. stop presenting fanon as canon. please. i'm literally begging. we actually have evidence against it. just,,, acknowledge that they're headcanons and stop putting them forward as though they're able to fit into canon. please.

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tatiana-petrovna · 3 years

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Come Away To the Water. Book III

(book 1) (book 2) (book 4) & (book 5)

Come away little light, come away to the darkness To the ones appointed to see it through In the shade of the night we'll come looking for you Come away little lamb come away to the water Come away little lamb come away to the slaughter Give yourself so we might live anew fandom: midnight mass pairing: Father Paul x 2nd person OFC (Helena Belleforest) summary: "That's my job. To know the people in my community." “You mean the sheep in your flock.” “Especially the little black ones that like to wander off.” His voice is so tender. You wonder if Jesus spoke with this same tenderness. You think, if he did, you would've defied Rome for him too. a/n: I couldn't fully confirm if Bev is a Deacon but I grew up in church like, she seems like she's a Deacon so we're running with that. taglist: @shannon-posts

The first knock comes at 5pm.

And like clockwork, it’s the Virgin Mary herself.

“I’d imagine you have more important matters to attend to than me, Deacon.” You can’t even look Bev in the eyes, gaze scanning the path behind her, fearful of the entire congregation following after her to finally drive you out.

“Well, it was a busy afternoon.” She offers you a sickly sweet smile, full of poison. “Noticed you were kind enough to grace us with your presence in service today. My, you know… I think it’s been at least three, no four years since we last had the privilege. And here I thought your soul was just beyond saving. It’s truly a miracle what prayer can do, isn’t it?”

Blinking slowly, it takes all your strength not to close the door right in her face.

“It’s so kind of you to pray for my soul, Deacon. When there are so many others, far more deserving of your attention. I thank you.” Your tone is anything but thankful.

“Oh, of course. I always had so much respect for your family. Your grandfather in particular, God rest his soul. Well, you know that. You saw the way I cried at his funeral. I felt so silly. But he was such a good, God fearing man. Never missed service. And always helped us hand out sandbags in a storm. He deserved as much and more.”

“Well, I imagine he’s at peace now.”

“You are so right. I’m sure he’s smiling down on you, so proud that you finally made your way back to the flock…” Her eyes flicker with hunger, dying to know what it is that you must know. And finally, she breaks, unable to stand the mystery of it any longer. “Forgive me but...I must ask, given recent events, what it is that Father Paul suggested might happen at mass today that inspired your return? I mean, today of all days. Well, it just begs such curiosity. Surely, you understand.”

Ahh, there it is. The reason there isn’t a burning cross on your lawn right now.

Dragging in a deep breath, your fists ball for only a moment before you flex your fingers back outwards by force so you can’t punch her. Though it doesn’t stop a few silent hexes from whispering around in your mind.

“Father Paul had no idea I would be in attendance. In fact, I didn’t either.” She opens her mouth to contest your statement, but you raise a hand to stop her. “And I know you don’t believe me, but… I woke up this morning and… Gosh, you know, I guess Holy Spirit was just alive and moving inside me. Telling me to get up and go. So I listened. Guess I was meant to bear His witness, Deacon. Just as you were.”

You can tell from her stunned silence that she doesn’t appreciate this accusation. That God sees the two of you on any sort of equal footing. But that’s exactly why you said it and you can’t help savoring just how uncomfortable it’s made her.

Good, you think. It’s your turn to squirm, you self righteous bitch.

And you feel no guilt for these thoughts. You outgrew feeling guilty for your sins a long fucking time ago.

“Well, I do hope we’ll continue to see you at mass. I truly think it’s just what you need. God can forgive anyone you know. Even you.” There’s that Willy Wonka smile again.

Dragging in a breath, you can’t help leaning out of the doorway just slightly as she turns to go.

“Beverly?” The sun has dipped low enough to set the sunlight softer among the clouds. Like brush strokes of oil paint lovingly caressed across the sky. On the breeze, you can hear the horn of a ferry calling out its goodbye as it starts back towards the mainland. You hate to ask her anything. But you can’t help worrying. And crossing the island to check on Paul yourself seems like a stupid idea given the circumstances. If Beverly thought your timing was suspicious, surely she’s not the only one. “Is he alright?”

“I’ve attended to him.” She assures you with a small but proud smile, as if this answers your question. Animalistic jealousy flares in your veins as if she’s stolen a privilege from you. But if you’re honest with yourself, she can’t steal something from you that isn’t yours. “He’s resting now. In peace. And we should let him. He’s had a very long day. The last thing he needs is more trouble.”

Bobbing your head in understanding, you close the door.

Tonight, you double check the locks, before going upstairs to dig out your cleansing sage. You are not letting her sociopathic energy infect your house. Not even the front step.

~~~

The second knock comes just after 7pm.

Hope runs unbridled through your chest and you nearly jump off the floor.

You’d been sitting by the fire looking at star charts, trying to figure out if there’s something going on astrologically that could explain anything you saw today. Trying to ignore the bible your grandfather left on the table by his chair. Trying to ignore the impulse to march across the island and demand answers from Paul. To check on him. To cradle him and swaddle him and pet him until he falls asleep, with you guarding his doorstep. You’re sure half the town has been biting at his ankles today. You know now isn’t the time to ask more of him. But it doesn’t stop the wanting.

You fight hard not to let disappointment drain your features when you open the door to find Erin Greene on your step. You’re never sure if it’s the pregnancy or just her own natural beauty, but sometimes you catch yourself staring at her. The woman is like a damn Botticelli fresco. She’s also your only real female friend on the island and you cherish her company. You just know she doesn’t have the answers to any question clawing around inside of you. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe you both just need to talk it out. That’s what the women of the village do, right? Talk it out of themselves until that something is no longer clawing around on the inside.

“Don’t look so excited.” She chuckles, observant as ever despite your efforts.

“Sorry, just been a long day.” You offer her your best smile and step aside, ushering her past the threshold. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of.” She shrugs, wandering in. “I mean, yeah...Today was weird, right?”

Apparently, you’re not the only one struggling with how you’re supposed to feel. Of course, you’re happy for Leeza. Everyone is happy for Leeza but... what the fuck?

“They talk about misdiagnosis in pre-med a lot. Maybe...I dunno…” Your head feels fuzzy from lack of sleep. You’ve never been a morning person, barely functional before 10am and always awake past midnight. But you were up at a blistering 8am today and you haven’t been able to nap. It’s only then that you remember you haven’t eaten either.

“Mm,” She nods in agreement, moving to stand near the star maps laid out across your wooden floor. You can see her head tilt as she tries to make sense of them. “Riley mentioned something about that… but then…”

“But then how did Father Paul know?” Digging through your fridge, you pull out the leftover vegetable soup you’d thrown together last night. “I’m dying to ask him.”

“So...he didn’t tell you anything?” She catches your arched eyebrow from across the kitchen and throws her hands up in surrender. “I just know you two like to talk. He… seems like...he confides in you.”

“Trying to convert me, more like.” You scoff, ladling soup into two bowls. “There’s a decent amount of salt in this, is that okay for…”

Your eyes drop to her belly and she laughs.

“Salt is the least of my worries. Hell, I live on a little salt rock in the middle of a salt-water desert. I sure hope it’s alright. Did you know that? That the ocean is actually a desert.”

“I did not.”

“Yep. There’s no drinkable water and you can’t grow agriculture on the open ocean.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting.”

“I mean, it was. But then I watched a paralyzed girl get up and walk today so my range on interesting has shifted significantly.”

For the first time all day, a laugh bubbles up out of you and it’s only then that you realize how badly you needed it. Thank the goddesses for Erin Greene.

“Do you think our grandmothers were friends?” You muse her way, setting the bowls in the microwave with a paper towel over them. “Or maybe our great grandmothers?”

A bright smile tugs at her mouth and takes over her entire face. The thought clearly warms her as much as the fire she’s lingering by.

“I hope so. I hope they sat by the fire and gossiped about everyone in this town and laughed at how crazy this place is.”

“And helped each other clean up after storms.”

“And took turns watching each other’s children so they could bathe and eat and sit in quiet for a few minutes.”

“I hope they helped each other feel understood. You know? I feel like women never got to explore who they were beyond what they could do for their families back then. Jesus, sometimes even now.”

“I hope they were happy.” Her eyes are on the ocean now, staring out the big windows that face east. The moon is rising steadily over the water, creating ripples that reflect her light right back and make her seem even bigger than she is.

“Who couldn’t be happy here?” Your playful sarcasm tugs her out of her thoughts and the two of you share a soft laugh.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Her big sea green eyes search yours as the truth finally settles in that you hadn’t shown up today to watch a miracle happen. “Everyone thinks you know...so...if you didn’t show up for Leeza, then...”

The recognition that flickers across her face triggers an eyeroll from you, followed by a gentle laugh.

“That’s not it. It’s not.” You shake your head, knowing full well that you’re lying to her face. Before this morning, you might’ve told her the truth. That when Paul looks at you, speaks to you, you feel so much more than holy.

“I mean, if anyone could make a man break his vows of celibacy…” Her smirk is infectious and you shake your head, setting her soup on the round kitchen table by the east facing windows.

“That is not what is happening.” Heat creeps up your neck and you can feel a burn in your cheeks.

“Yet.” Sitting at the table, she plays her spoon around in the soup and eyes you playfully through the rising steam. With a heavy sigh you sit down beside her to eat your own soup. Under the table your foot gives her ankle a friendly kick and the two of you share a laugh. You wonder if your great-grandmothers’ friendship ever included teasing each other about the handsome men around town and kicking one other under the table for it. You sincerely hope it did.

~~~

The final knock comes at 1am.

You’ve just fallen asleep, curled up on your bed in the pale moonlight with star maps scattered across your blankets.

But you know this time. The second your eyes fly open, you can feel every cell in your body stand at attention. You know it’s him.

And you know this is a little stupid. He should be resting. You should be keeping your distance. Still, you pull on a robe and brush the maps over onto your desk and scurry to the door like a moth eager to let the flames consume her.

His forehead presses to yours as he steps over the threshold. His hand is big and warm as it rests on your waist, curling into the thin fabric of your robe in sync with the deep breath that expands his lungs.

“I can’t sleep.” It makes your knees tremble the way his voice rumbles in his chest. So low and private, his words meant for no one on this earth but you.

“I thought we couldn’t…”

“We can’t.” He swallows hard, clearly struggling with this fact and hoping that saying the words out loud will strengthen his resolve. “Believe me when I say it’s not because I don’t want…”

“I know.” The pads of your fingertips rest against his perfect mouth, hushing him. You fight hard not to show what the feeling of his lips on your skin is doing to you. Taking a step back, you force him to follow if he wants to keep any distance between your bodies closed. And he obliges. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay. We can just… I don’t want to be away from you either. We’ll figure it out, hmm?”

Paul uses his foot to nudge the door closed and you reach around him to do up the lock. The action triggers a small chuckle in his chest and he pulls back to find your eyes in the pale moonlight.

“What are you so afraid of out here, hmm? Nothing is going to get you. I won’t let it.” On pure instinct, you lean into the brush of his knuckles across your cheek. Hum softly as his fingers comb up into your curls, just as his nose dips into the warmth of your neck. “You looked different today…”

“I straightened my hair. Dug out some make up.” You muse softly, stretching an arm out across his broad back. A moan slips out before you can stop it at the heat of his breath on your skin as he nuzzles into it. Drinking you in like your scent is a drug.

“For me?”

“No, for Jesus.” Your trademark sarcasm earns you a firm nip to the neck and you squeal breathlessly in surprise. Giggling softly, you shuffle backwards on your tiptoes towards the spiral staircase that leads to your bedroom. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Painfully.”

“Well, it could be worse. I could’ve promised my whole body to him for life…oh wait.”

When you pull back to gauge his reaction, you find his eyes narrowed playfully up at you while you navigate the stairs. His grip on your waist tightens, keeping you fixed in place for a long, breathless moment.

“You looked beautiful…” He whispers across your lips, cradling your neck as he gently guides you down to meet him. His mouth catches yours and it’s like a thousand champagne bottles pop off inside you. Like the piercing heat of a shower spray streaming over your spine. Like warm honey dripping down your throat and through your core. But better.

Despite the tension, you can feel this kiss is anything but sexual. Nothing but attachment and neediness and pure intimacy. If you could, you’d rip open your chest and let him burrow inside your ribcage. But kissing him is a sufficient alternative. Particularly when you never thought you’d get the chance.

Without warning, his hands grip your waist as if that’s what they were made for, and lift. Your legs wrap around his middle and he carries you the rest of the distance.

“Why did you come today?” His voice is muffled, buried in your hair as you wrap your arms across his back. He’s stronger than he looks. And it’s only now, with his body pressed right to yours like this, that you’re able to appreciate how much bigger he is than you.

“I wanted to see you.”

“It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you make it a den of thieves.” He sighs playfully, feigning Jesus' disappointment upon finding merchants in a temple.

“I didn’t steal anything!” You laugh in response.

“Didn’t you?” The smirk is evident in his voice and you giggle at the implication. Stole the priest’s attention from mass? Stole Beverly’s place at his right hand? Stole the man away from God himself? All of these accusations delight you if you’re completely honest. You revel in the unholiness of being his darkest temptation.

“So you want me to lie to you on top of it?”

“No,” Now standing in your room, he pulls back to caress the back of his knuckles along the underside of your jawline. With his arms still around you, Paul slowly lowers himself to sit on the edge of your bed. He keeps you in his lap, hands brushing down your spine and then back up. Somehow the electricity in every small touch is more erotic than anything else you’ve felt in your life. “I never want you to lie to me. Ever. Your honesty is…not just refreshing. It’s intoxicating. Brutal. Blistering, even. But… that’s why I trust it. Trust you. I trust you even more than I trust myself. That must sound childish, but…”

“It doesn’t.” Curling your fingers under his chin, you lift his head until his eyes find yours. Gently holding his jaw in place, you lean in to kiss him again. Soft but deep. Humming low in his chest, Paul caresses a hand up along one smooth thigh until his touch is edging under the fabric of your robe. It’s enough to make your toes curl and your spine arch a bit.

“If I stay here…”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” You flash him the smile of a child who's been promised ice cream if she's very good, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. The thought of keeping him all night thrills you like the unexpected sight of a shooting star blazing across the sky.

“Trust me when I tell you, I’m more worried about my behavior than yours.” He chuckles under his breath, before carefully shifting to stand and lay you in bed. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch him tug his cardigan away. Then undo his shirt cuffs. “If I stay here… would it be too much to ask if I wanted to hold you? All night.”

“I’d be very cross if you didn’t.”

“Scoot over.” He nudges at you with a smile, toeing his boots off. Something about the sight of his priestly collar being stripped away and set on your bedside table makes your stomach tighten.

“What happens if I don’t?”

Arching an eyebrow, Paul rolls his sleeves up slowly. One knee dips the mattress beside your right thigh. Then the other, as he crawls over you like he’s sizing up prey.

“I thought I was promised your best behavior, little girl.” A shiver rolls down your spine at how low his voice can get when he means to weaponize it against you.

Eyes wide, you can’t quite think of anything smart to sass back at him when he’s straddling you and calling you ‘little’. Wetting your lips, you manage only a shaky nod. Following closely on its heels is a sigh of relief when he rolls off of you, a knowing smile on his lips. You scoot across the bed willingly this time, resting your head on his chest and stretching an arm across his ribs.

“Good girl.” He muses low, nuzzling into your hair as one arm wraps around your back, clearly cognizant of his effect on you. The other works to pull your thick comforter blanket up so you’re both swaddled in warmth against the wet, cold chill of March. “Sleep now, hmm?”

You try and fight it. For once, not to be stubborn, but to savor the feeling of his chest warm and solid and as close as you’ve ever had him. The feeling of his lungs rising and falling with each breath. The feeling of his hand covering your arm. Of his nose buried in your hair. Just for one moment more.

Then one more.

Then one more…

#father paul x reader #father paul imagine #father paul #helena x paul #story: come away to the water

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alygatorwrites · 3 years

Note

zeke fluff zeke fluff zeke fluff

please literally no one ever writes fluff stuff for my monke man😭

anon, you spoke nothing but facts 😩 don’t worry, ive got your back with monke man <3

Breakfast In Bed

It’s seven A.M. when you find yourself at the stove with a frying pan, swirling butter around the cast-iron middle and adding in pancake batter.

You wouldn’t usually be awake at this time on a weekend, but it’s your four year anniversary with Zeke Yeager. It just had to start off special. Breakfast in bed is one of the godsends of the Earth, right?

Doesn’t help that you’re half asleep though.

The abrupt sound of approaching footsteps is what effectively snaps you out of your thoughts, coaxing you to throw a look over your shoulder.

Zeke is walking toward you, wearing that same-old nightshirt and a pair of checkered pajama pants that hang low on his pelvis. The way his wavy hair is all mused from sleep is an ... interesting image to say the least; you love it though, because he’d never let anyone else see him like this.

Just you.

“Looks like we had the same idea.” Zeke’s powerful arms thread around your waist, tugging you backward against the expanse of his muscled chest. His bearded chin settles onto your shoulder as he speaks, a timbre of velvet. "And here I was thinking that I’d be a step ahead.”

“You should’ve gotten up earlier, then.”

“Guess so. The bed was warm though.” Zeke pauses for dramatic effect, and he smirks against your jugular. “I also didn’t have to deal with you breathing in my face.”

You’re too tired to say anything, so you give him the most threatening glare possible. He just throws his head back and laughs like the bastard he is.

“My bad,” Zeke says, pulling away to move beside you. He snatches the spatula and nudges you over with his hip. “Scoot.”

You shift to let Zeke do the rest, watching as he flips the batter to reveal the cooked, golden side. The way he hums to himself is intimate and domestic, and it’s a privilege to bear witness to it all.

“Monkey see, monkey do,” you tease, making Zeke give you the stink eye.

It doesn’t pack a punch though, because his glasses have fogged up with the steam rising from the griddle. It’s hard to take him seriously. “Keep up that attitude, and four years is the most you’ll get with me.”

The playful quirk of your lips is beaming, and it’s somehow enough to soften the lines along Zeke’s sour expression. His one and only kryptonite has always been that smile of yours.

Zeke uses the spatula to point at you, wiggling it around with each word. “You’re lucky I’m a patient ass man.”

“Patient? Yeah, right.”

It has you grinning a little wider, and you wipe the fog away from his lenses with a finger. You can now see a sparkle behind his gaze: silvery and luminescent and radiating with a love that’s visible even through the black of his pupils.

“What?” You finally ask. Zeke shakes his head with a sigh, setting the flipper down.

His palms find their way onto your jaw — coarse, yet tender — and he swipes his calloused thumbs along your cheeks. The yellow light that reflects through the window sets his eyes ablaze, and you feel yourself shrink beneath his shadow.

“It’s nothing,” Zeke says, breath skittering against the slope of your nose. “Just admiring what’s mine.”

No words can explain the sentiment that paints your bones in strokes of gold in this moment — and it doesn’t matter. The looks you give each other convey everything you wish to give utterance to. Simple as that.

A sparkler twinkles in your ribcage when Zeke suddenly kisses you, mouth soft against your own, and the sparks continue to grow as he reels you into a hug.

Four years with this man, and he still acts like you’re in the honeymoon phase. For such a person who acts as if he doesn’t give a shit most of the time, he can actually be a sap when he wants. You’re lucky to have him.

“You’re burning the pancakes,” you realize.

Scratch that. Lucky sometimes.

“Get ready to go out to breakfast, then.”

#SOFT MONKE BEHAVIOR???!!!!?#who wouldve known #nah he has a soft side fr #man loves you too much #orangutan luvin <3 #zeke yeager x reader #zeke fluff #zeke jaeger x reader #aot x reader #aot #snk

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scripturiends · 3 years

Text

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;)

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy!

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.”

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked.

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.”

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.”

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed.

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now.

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder.

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted.

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.”

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it.

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.”

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?”

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal.

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her:

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.”

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.”

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company.

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing.

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.”

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death.

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.”

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath.

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?”

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.”

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

Send me your thoughts here!

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #kim bum #ryu hye young #kang sol a x han joon hwi #fics #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama #mine #otp: why couldn't you be here sooner

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wincore · 4 years

Text

youngblood | lee donghyuck

pairing: haechan x reader

words: 9.1k

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: language, juvenile crimes (do NOT try shoplifting, speeding and vandalism, kids)

a/n: okay omg i finally got around to editing this and you guys should know by now this au doesn’t mean he’s bad and just.........annoying........... (also it follows troublemaker’s style but like............it might just be my fav troublemaker part aaaa)

The first day you meet Lee Donghyuck, he picks a fight with you. Or you pick a fight with him.

That’s not how the first day of high school should have gone.

It surprised you, just a little, to be toe-to-toe with someone so easily. Did he like picking fights for fun? You looked him up and down, the ink over his forearm meant to be shown and a strange friendliness in his eyes. Not exactly the bully type, you weren’t sure what to make of him. Movies spoil reality when it comes to things like this. Rumors are even worse. You took a slow gulp anyway, Donghyuck’s eyes on you unnerving.

He leaned in slightly to match your height. His tone was lilting and he phrased his words light-heartedly, a pretence you found funny. “I have no interest in you, kid. I’m going to keep it that way.”

“We’re the same age, you know?”

Your reply went unheard. It was just misunderstanding that got you there—you mistook his locker for yours and it’s not your fault you happen to have the same passcode (a little weird though, definitely). Lee Donghyuck said if you were allowed to take what’s his, he should have the same privilege, the word thief at the tip of his tongue. He was a little daunting, you suppose—taller than you were, in all black and several piercings and tattoos poking out on wrists. Maybe it was the undulating rage of being fourteen and at the stage of heavy regret in later years, maybe it was the wariness around strangers. You weren’t quite afraid of him; just that a fight on your first day didn’t seem like a very bright start in a new city. Although you assured him you didn’t touch his stuff, you handed him your bear-shaped keychain. (“You can have this if you want a gift so bad.”)

When Donghyuck laughed, giving it back almost immediately with a cheeky grin—you couldn’t decide whether to let the confusion show on your face.

“Don’t be a pushover, newbie.”

You frowned. “Who’re you calling a pushover?”

You don’t remember the rest of it but you found it very hard to not have mixed feelings about him. You’re trying to have a normal fun high school life for fuck’s sake. You didn’t think he was the awful sort of person—but it was almost as if he was trouble’s very own lovechild. There are better weapons against him than falling into pointless playfights.

Lee Donghyuck. Funny guy.

The school bully image was a lie, no doubt spread by someone more than annoyed with his antics. Of course, Lee Donghyuck either didn’t care or didn’t know, wits always about him like some sort of eccentric defence mechanism.

You admire him in a way, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling him that.

Lee Donghyuck is popular, full of jokes and fun but a little rough on the edges all the same. But you have to assume he must have some demonic heritage. You could say you have a strange relationship—friends but not. You hate him but don’t. While you’re sure there’s at least a little bit of sunshine hidden beneath those black T-shirts and inked skin, there’s a bit more than hidden sides to young troublemakers—things that don’t involve misunderstanding.

Lee Donghyuck looks like danger. (And danger attracts attention of all kinds, you’d noticed in a few unfortunate heart-eyed classmates.) You’ve seen him in enough fights to have respect for him, making you wonder why he doesn’t join the debate team already. It might have something to do with how his victorious smile gets on everyone’s nerves, the way they groan at Donghyuck’s sudden affections afterward. They don’t hate him—mostly. He’s honest and he knows exactly how to press people. That doesn’t change the innocence in his arrogance or the clear distinction of his spirit.

Of course there are bad people; Donghyuck just isn’t one of them. He just tries too hard to look cool. (“Sunflower,” he’d called you, pulling a face. “I know you’re dense. But maybe start being afraid of me so you don’t ruin my reputation.”)

The sunlight falls against the web of your thumb, your fingers rapidly moving to match the pace of the game on your phone. Five minutes to class, you’ve got nothing better to do.

“What, trying to beat my high score again?” Donghyuck pulls the chair beside you to sit, his arms resting on the desk as he continues to stare at you.

“Believe me, Donghyuck, not everything I do is for you,” you chuckle, tapping on the play again button, catching the look on his face out of the corner of your eye.

Donghyuck looks visibly irked and you think maybe your decision to be so annoyingly passive has been the right one if it bothers him. Ah, but you won’t tell him that. You’re having the time of your life this way.

“Well,” Donghyuck begins but frowns instead. “Whatever.”

It’s not every day you get to win—Donghyuck does get under your skin. You just don’t have to show it. Sometimes his own friends decide they’ve had enough, the classroom shenanigans making you laugh. You don’t want to get started on the chaos that unfurls every time Donghyuck walks into class and straight up picks a fight with anyone in his eyesight—even Jaemin has his “Lee Donghyuck!” moments. Donghyuck is friends with everyone and that means he gets to get on everyone’s nerves.

You smile to yourself thinking of Donghyuck yawning deliberately at Renjun trying to make a point. Call him a demon, call him a disgrace; he knows how to make people laugh.

You pass Red’s diner on your way back home, as usual, the unusual red and white checkers replacing the normal concrete sidewalk by it. It’s always soothed you to see bright colours in this side of the city, the beige and coffee aesthetic far too dominating for its cause—something to keep up with the larger, fancier (more pretentious) metropolises. It’s also the oldest; your friends told you the number of baby pictures everyone has on the wine-coloured couches is, in more appropriate words, fucking astounding.

You wish you’d moved here earlier. The thing about little cities is just that—they’re not all that little. Something everyone seemingly loves to boast about, the romance of a small town and its delicate simplicities. It’s nothing alike. You’d know. You enjoy it more here. You like all the food outlets and stores lining the streets and further up, less congestion and more dog parks—all places you love breezing through in your free time. There’s an amusement park too, a forty-minute drive away into the middle of nowhere and if you’re not mistaken, the city centre has the best clubs and bars. Sunshine drips through every nook and cranny—it’s everything you’d expected a city to be.

You stop in your tracks at the sight of distinct brown curls in the alleyway between buildings. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be in the best of situations, a tougher, much larger guy shoving him against the wall. They seem to be speaking, and something about Donghyuck’s smile doesn’t give you a good feeling about what’s going to happen.

Before the guy’s fist meets Donghyuck’s cheek, you yell, two pairs of eyes shifting focus to you. You feel your heartbeat quicken, Donghyuck raising his eyebrow and shooting you a confused look.

“Don’t- don’t hurt him,” you say, cursing at the meekness of your voice.

The larger man laughs, a sound like nails on a chalkboard and you cringe. Donghyuck mouths at you to get away but immediately shuts up when the man turns to him again.

“You got a little lover come here to protect you?” he says, looking at Donghyuck with amusement.

“No, that’s not—”

“I hate little brats like you,” he huffs, shoving Donghyuck once more, this time a little harder. He lets out a pained whine, eyes squeezing shut as he drops on his knees.

You take a hesitant step back when the man makes his way to you, blood rushing to your ears when he raises his hand. Your arms go up by instinct and you’re met with a hard push, falling to the ground with a whimper.

You’re picked up by the collar, struggling to not let fear show on your face.

“Tell your boyfriend to stop messing around my store, okay, sweetheart?” he threatens, voice lower.

With that, he drops you and leaves, the adrenaline in you not quite down yet.

“Donghyuck?” you call, worried as you spot him lying still in the alleyway. You’re about to get up and go to him when he responds, whimsical as ever.

“I’m okay!” He raises his hand with a peace sign and you sigh, annoyed.

“Really?! What were you even doing?”

“I ate some cookies for free, big deal,” he says before he suddenly raises his head with a lopsided grin. “Is sunflower worried about me?”

You groan, dusting yourself as you get up and walk over to him. You throw him a light kick at the side to which he whines overdramatically and scrunches his face into something pained. Lee Donghyuck could be hit by a bus and he’d play it off with fingers guns and eyebrow wiggling.

“Become a chainsaw-juggler or something if you want to do something dangerous,” you complain, “And get up!”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “As always, you have such boring ideas.”

He does get up the next moment, although with a large show of holding his back and several whines about near-death experiences as if he’s not the one bringing it upon himself. You’re sure his back is bruised but he doesn’t acknowledge it as anything more than a joke. There’s also a gash on his cheek he must have received earlier. It’s no surprise he has a fresh batch of wounds—you think he spends more time in the nurse’s office than in actual classes.

“Why do you pick fights with people clearly stronger than you?” you grumble as he dusts himself off.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Donghyuck says, straightening, “I would’ve got out of this pretty clean without you.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure thing.”

Donghyuck frowns, a huff leaving his mouth.

“I don’t mean to brag but that guy would have been running for his life if you hadn’t butt in,” he shrugs, trying to sound less ruffled.

You laugh at his expression, forgetting about your bruised arms for a moment.

“You should treat me,” you say, the thought passing your head. You don’t have change and you’re really craving some strawberry milk.

He scoffs. “For what?”

“For saving you.”

You expected a retort, at least. Donghyuck pauses for a moment before a worrying grin floats up on his face. “Sure. Come with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him but follow nonetheless, walking side by side. The sunlight makes his skin glow, the hue on his cheeks perfect were it not for the dried blood from the gash. His eyes shine when he smiles, mischief or not, when he’s telling you about how you should try vandalism and robbery sometimes, they’re pretty fun. It’s a Donghyuck trait—to be able to live like this and still call it fun. You look at his lips once and immediately look away. What a silly thought. They’re regrettably pretty, though, despite being busted often. The sun has been kind to Donghyuck, with the colour of his skin full and the confidence you’d only find in someone made of sun flares.

So that’s why.

You stare at the motorbike parked at a clearly No Parking area, the metallic red gleaming under the late afternoon sun. You’ve never been on one before but something tells you Donghyuck would traumatise you far too much to try again. You cannot agree to get on that.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You hesitate. “Where are we going?”

“To the centre, of course.” He smiles brightly. “There’s a bunch of bakeries and eateries over there.”

“You can just buy me some strawberry milk from a vending machine around.”

“Well, I forgot my wallet,” he says, looking up to think, “I left it at my job.”

You furrow your eyebrows, not believing a word. It’s Lee Donghyuck after all, the opposite of predictable, and arguing with him will only cost you your breath.

“A motorbike and no leather jacket?” You smile, regaining your composure. “I mean, not everyone can pull off the leather jacket, of course.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes overstatedly. “I don’t expect you to be smarter but stereotypes? Wow.”

You do get on the bike, however, with some pushing on Donghyuck’s side. More importantly, you somehow don’t end up traumatised despite what you supposed. It felt good, wind in your hair and although your legs were stuck to the sides of the bike like glue, you found yourself enjoying the scene around you speeding by. The fact that Donghyuck can be careful was beyond your knowledge and understanding.

The buildings are a little taller here and while you’ve been here before, the sight never fails to make your heartbeat quicken. There’s something inevitably calling about this place. You’d love to explore when there are nightlights around each corner.

“Your wallet?” you remind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck feigns surprise, gasping. “Right! It was in my pocket. But I have no money.”

“What? We came all the way here for nothing?!”

“No. I have a plan.” Donghyuck grins, pointing towards the pretty glass door of the bakery across the street.

“Oh no,” you say quietly as the realization dawns, “We’re not stealing.”

“Then you came all the way here for nothing.”

You sigh heavily into your hands as Donghyuck tries to sweeten his grin, clearly trying to convince you.

“You really don’t have to be this annoying, you know that?”

“It’s a choice,” he says, pulling a face, “And I do it because I excel at it, thank you very much.”

You reluctantly follow Donghyuck into the bakery, people bustling in and out, mostly for their fix of evening coffee or tea. There are photo frames around pictures of coffee beans, tea leaves and pastries, all against a soft orange wallpaper. It’s not as small as it looked from outside, you realize, with its capacity for people quite enough. The smell of chocolate is predominant, hazelnut and coffee wafting in from the left side.

“Free samples!” Donghyuck gasps, before turning to whisper to you, “You know we can try one of each, right? That saves us some trouble.”

You’d be lying if his lips so close to your ears didn’t make you jump a little. You take short steps behind him as he eagerly walks to the counter.

“Ah, is this a new type?” Donghyuck asks, beaming at the woman behind the counter. She raises an eyebrow at the ear piercings and tattoos, gracing him with a smile nonetheless.

While he’s engaged in conversation, you stare at the two of them confused till you’re met with a light kick at your foot. You give Donghyuck a dirty look, who keeps pointing towards the samples with his hands under the counter.

“You’re supposed to shove some into your bag, you know?” he leans in to whisper, exasperated, when the lady leaves to enter the pantry.

“Well, how was I supposed to know, genius?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

Donghyuck looks around nervously before taking a few of the tarts and carefully placing them in your bag.

“Don’t move too much or you’ll crush them,” he warns in a hush.

The woman returns again, with a warmer smile and Donghyuck goes back to his clever, silver-tongued words. He’s so awful, you think. But you can’t deny the exhilaration in your chest, a giddy feeling of doing the wrong thing in a way that feels right.

You end up having the free samples afterward, pretending to contemplate buying as the woman looks at the two of you expectantly. It’s delicious, sweet chocolate manipulating your taste buds to want another bite almost immediately after you’re done.

“We do offer couple discounts, too!” she says, beaming.

There it is again, the unsettling implications—accusations almost. Since when do the two of you look like a couple? You’re obviously too young to be looking the sort of way most lovers do and where the fuck do they see any love anyway?

“Uh,” Donghyuck begins but can’t seem to form a sentence.

Before either of you can say anything, the woman is called by another customer and you look at each other at the same time.

“We should go,” he says, quickly, “before they realize we’re not buying anything.”

You nod and sneak out of the shop as quickly as you walked in, Donghyuck suddenly picking up the pace till you’re at least a few blocks away.

“You’re so slow,” Donghyuck teases, laughing when you reach him, out of breath. He adjusts his shirt, dark as always, such that it doesn’t stick out of his pants awkwardly anymore. The tattoos on his left arm catch your eye, muscles beneath flexing as his moves his arm, a strange pattern of ink. You don’t think they’re real if you’re being honest—that field of sunflowers. They’re too pretty.

You’re so annoying, you think, despite the smile forming on your face as you follow him down the lane.

What a frustrating personality, the thought crosses you at night, as you kick away the blanket at your feet. He ended up paying for some ice cream at a nearby shop anyway, right after you’d finished having your stolen goods by the dog park. He said summer needs some ice and he’ll oblige just this once with whatever few notes he has left. (“Summer just ended, idiot.” “I can’t hear you.”) The first bite had immediately given him brain freeze, a whine escaping his lips as he held his head in an attempt to soothe it. You found it cute—yes, cute, a terrible choice of words for him. It doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself. It’s almost within his personality to intrude upon your thoughts like this—gods, you hate even the letters of his name that form so easily in front of your eyes.

The buzz from your phone gives you a fright as you quickly open it to two texts from Donghyuck. You adjust the brightness before you read it, your heartbeat embarrassing you at its rate.

demon child, 11:36 PM

btw today wasn’t a treat you still have to pay me

food is expensive you know

You smile. A part of you warns you shouldn’t.

demon child, 11:37 PM

or you can pay for next time

Your smile drops. Next time? What is this, a date? You shake your head instinctively. Like you’d make it out alive of a date with Lee Donghyuck.

you, 11:37 PM

sure thing little stingy man

demon child, 11:38 PM

wow that was fast do you like me or something

You roll your eyes. You might have really decked Donghyuck in the jaw in another timeline, where you knew how to deck someone in the jaw.

You feel a certain static in your heart, hoping you’re mistaken as you respond to his texts for the rest of the night. Lee Donghyuck needs to have the last word all the time, and you lose count of how many times you huff, only giving in when the tiredness in your eyes seeps to the rest of your body.

You think you smile in your sleep that night but you can’t be sure.

The thing about bad days is that you notice nothing outside of them when you’re having them—but you forget you ever even had them when you’re not.

You end up at school with a lack of will to pay attention to classes. It’s well into the semester, and that means it’s time for you to get to some serious studying, except, well, you can’t. You’re decent at academics—or so you’d like to think. You’re average at best and there’s a nagging thought eating away at your brain at a painfully slow rate.

The college application deadlines are near.

It doesn’t help to be second and third best at almost everything. You nod along to everything Jihyun is saying; really, he aces every subject without trying. His words aren’t exactly…encouraging. You thought his notes would be your ticket to a dream college except he’s not quite the person you should be asking help from.

You’re suddenly not sure about all the friendly competitions you’re running.

You’re starting to feel too worked up these days, worry tugging at the back of your head every moment. It’s lonely when your friends are busy with their own struggles so you stay quiet. You’re a big kid, you tell yourself, you got this.

Except you really don’t.

“Woah,” Donghyuck interrupts you and Jihyun. “You look like you used the dryer on the wrong setting.”

Sometimes, it’s really not the best of situations to have your seat beside Donghyuck. You glare at him, keeping your notebook on the table with a loud ‘SLAM!’ You turn your head to find him smiling. Oh, he better not start now.

“Ah, (name),” he says, grinning, “what’s got you so upset today?”

“Nothing,” you insist, trying your best to control your scowl.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘hung out’ (committed minor crimes) at the bakery. Your friendly bickering since then has been not-so-friendly, you think with a grimace. He’s been getting under your skin—not a favourable thing when you’re against Lee Donghyuck.

“(name).”

You look up to see Jihyun, almost always devoid of any emotion behind the eyes—even if he’s smiling.

“The notes you asked for,” he says, keeping the notes on your table and turning around, almost as if he’s glad to be rid of conversation.

“Oh, and,” Jihyun turns back around. “If you’re hoping to get into any college at all, I hope you keep the right company.”

There’s contempt in his voice and your eyes trail to Donghyuck’s, a little confused if not bothered. You shouldn’t be surprised to find him grinning, laughing almost. You think Donghyuck’s confidence is a good substitute for a leather jacket.

“Hey, come on now.” Donghyuck leans back in his seat, smiling like a kid. You wonder where all that sunshine’s coming from. “Are you still mad about me beating you at that MUN thing?”

Jihyun smiles. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I wasn’t referring to you, of course. And there’s worse things you’ve done.”

Your teacher walks in, drawing everyone’s attention instead as they scurry back to their seats. Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a second longer, his face blanched before he turns away and rests his chin on his palm. You think you weren’t supposed to steal so many glances at him throughout the class.

The day somehow manages to draw energy out of you even further. Worries aside, Jihyun’s been strangely demanding—are you even that close? Should he be asking you to bring things this way? Should he be making you run errands? You’re so close to losing it before you realize you can’t. He’s helping you, sort of. You groan into your hands during break, ignoring Donghyuck’s eyebrow raise from beside you. It’s unfair and while you’re sure it’s all light-hearted, you have another name to curse when you run into a problem. Ah, the scorn of high school kids is truly incomparable.

You almost sigh in relief at the last ring of the bell for the day, getting up a little too enthusiastically. You get some admonishment from the teacher at that but you forget once you’ve reached the gates, almost running out faster than your friends. They let you go with a laugh, your desire to get home and take a nap triumphing every other thing on your mind. Some days are meant to be forgotten.

Cursed as you are, you bump into Donghyuck a few blocks from the bus stop. He adjusts the collar of his plaid shirt in a hurry, the black T-shirt underneath so worn out, you wonder how many years he’s been wearing that. The symbol on his baseball cap is probably related to a demon cult, you think. It being related to a metal band is also a possibility.

“(name),” he says, grinning. “What a coincidence.”

“Don’t pick a fight now, demon,” you huff before he can continue.

“I didn’t even say anything.” He raises his arms defensively. “Yet.”

You have the intense desire to punch him. When did the tables turn to this? Weren’t you supposed to be the calm one?

“You had fun running errands for President Snob?” he snickers.

“Well, I didn’t want to,” you say, your shoulders dropping, annoyed as you are. It makes you a little upset for something to affect you that much. You wish you were like the kids who barely cared about things like college applications, enjoying life either way. You wish you didn’t have this strange pretence of a person you are. You wish you were like Donghyuck.

There’s a pause.

“Come on. Don’t let anyone push you around like that.” His voice comes off as exasperated. Donghyuck isn’t the kind of person to let worry show.

You look up, a little surprised. Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.

“There’s some festival going on at the centre,” he says with a shrug. “Lots of food trucks. Wanna come?”

You furrow your eyebrows, a frown taking shape over your lips.

“Stealing off others doesn’t exactly make me feel good about myself,” you say, hugging yourself. As fun as the adrenaline rush was, it’s better to stick to morals, whatever they may be.

“I’ll pay,” he says, his smile incredulous. “I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you got a credit card lying around somewhere?”

“Nope,” he responds, rolling his eyes. “No credit card. Don’t believe in money.”

“Then how do you plan on paying?” you ask, frustrated.

“Trust me,” he whispers, urging you to follow him.

It turns out Donghyuck happens to know every food outlet in the city and also happens to have been kicked out of half of them, which is oddly impressive. He’s also worked several jobs in local eateries, the old ladies more than fond of him. (“Who wouldn’t find my charming smile adorable?”)

“You hobgoblin,” you exclaim, huffing. His story about vandalism on the bleachers shouldn’t have been as amusing, or endearing, for that matter.

“According to our lovely folklore, hobgoblins can warm your heart,” he replies, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“That is definitely not true. You just have to respond with something, don’t you?”

“And what of it?”

A (surprisingly) within-speed-limits bike ride away, you end up in a flurry of colours and crowds—you gasp at the large line of food trucks lining the pathway leading to the people’s square. You’ve never seen this before, looking from place to place. A lot of them look like they’ve come from pretty far.

At the square, there are wooden stalls of food out for trial by the people, shopkeepers encouraging the few tourists there are to try the local food. You spot various fishcakes, dumplings and street toast with glimpses of strawberry and banana milk decorating the stands in between. There are old upbeat songs playing through the speakers attached to the electricity poles, faint enough to be drowned out by crowds but loud enough to enjoy a little dance to. You didn’t realize you were smiling till you turned around to see an amused look on Donghyuck’s face.

Time only seems to fly—like when you’re done with your favourite song and it just wasn’t long enough so you hit repeat. The truth is, a song is barely four minutes—and yet you feel like you saw a movie, a story in it; so very curious because you were so sure it was too short.

Donghyuck walks side by side with you to where his bike is parked. (You wonder if he ever travels without it. Gas isn’t exactly cheap.) There’s little distance between the two of you, something neither of you seems to notice. You bite into the sugar candy, the sudden crack sound in the quiet lane making the two of you laugh despite the surge of sugar on your tongue. You forget what you were talking about.

“Why do you even steal, Donghyuck?” You ask softly. You paid for some food today, some were free samples and mostly, there was nothing illegal involved. Donghyuck didn’t particularly want to cause trouble either. You don’t want to be a bad judge of character.

“Because I can.”

What an expected answer. Is there anything Donghyuck can’t do?

“Don’t you feel bad?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s always been so confusing, but when he starts to make sense, you feel like you should’ve seen it that way in the first place.

“Are you talking about our sweet bakery? You really think a company as big as theirs would notice some free samples are missing?” Donghyuck says, making a face. “In a city no one cares about?”

You don’t say anything, puffing your left cheek in contemplation.

“Look, I could spend the rest of my life looting as much as my arms could carry and I would never be able to make my crimes pose even the smallest threat to a single shitty millionaire.” Donghyuck waves his hands about in a gesture that implies indifference.

You suppose he’s right, walking up to him and continuing your journey up.

“I’m not justifying myself,” he says, voice softer, shoulders relaxed. “Stealing’s bad. Other people are affected. I know. It’s just that I like having more choices than they give us. We should try everything we can, you know?”

Is that why he’s always up to something? Flitting from club to club in school, running around the entire city like it’s his own?

He shakes himself immediately, cringing. “Ah. Ew. I can’t believe you’re getting to my head, sunflower. Yuck. You’re ruining me. Did I just monologue?”

“Oh, okay.” You cross your arms. “That’s my fault now. It’s a good thing to be honest, asshole.”

“La, la, la.” Donghyuck puts his fingers in his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Can’t lecture me if I can’t hear you.”

You punch his shoulders, his laugh accompanying the evening blooming in full colours above you as you forget you’re already on your journey back.

You reach Red’s before nightfall, a sort of pitstop for kids like you when it’s time to go home before the night soaks into you. Donghyuck feels lighter in his chest as he enters, the jingling pleasant and the smell of waffles even more so. He just can’t believe you’re the reason he’s here.

“Obviously, we’re going for chocolate waffles,” he says, crossing his arms.

The tables outside are better than the stuffy humid air inside. Donghyuck’s complaining didn’t let you take even a step inside.

“We just ate,” you reason, your eyebrows furrowed. “And honey is always better!”

“Eh, what do you know?” he says, resting his elbow against the table. “I was raised in this diner, newbie.”

“Yeah, you and a million other rats.”

He presses his tongue against his cheek to stop the smile, although he reckons he’s doing a terrible job of it.

Get yourself together, one voice pipes up in his head.

Or say it. Ask them out. Yeah, the other voice is a piece of shit. That’s not going to work out.

Donghyuck didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, a daze over his eyes. He blinks a few time to regain focus, the peach hue across your cheeks coming to his attention. It’s adorable, if he could just reach out and place his palm against your cheek, just lean over the table and—

Fuck. No way.

“Stop staring at me like some sleaze,” you huff, eyes flickering between him and the table.

“Why would I stare at you?” he retorts, resisting the heat on his face. “You’re not that pretty.”

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes as you hold your arm.

The lights lining the eaves flicker on almost at the same time, the sky still in transitionary lilac and you look up with your lips parted, something akin to curiosity in your eyes. Pretty. It could just be the reflection of the lights though—Donghyuck’s not exactly the poetic type. He wants to curl his lips at the notion, but it’s not very smart to have all his thoughts show up on his face.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” you say, eyes still on the lights, occasionally shifting to the sky.

“Your parents will worry.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment before mumbling, “It’s not safe.”

“Then drop me home,” you say, your eyes shifting to meet his, an unusual confidence in them.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the skip of his heartbeat.

Donghyuck thinks he should pat himself on the back for not speeding all the times you were with him on his bike. He loves the thing to death, although he’s had it for barely a year. The jolt of adrenaline and the freedom blooming in sprouts within his ribcage should be a dead giveaway to what he feels about speeding. Donghyuck’s never really cared about rules. Break them, bend them—it’s up to him and he loves that feeling of control. Whatever people think of him, they’re nowhere close to the truth. They’ll never know just how much he has everything under control.

Except you.

How annoying, he thinks to himself as he feels the speed picking up and your distant warmth behind him. He feels a little tingle in his chest, the way he always does when he gets the urge to do something reckless.

What if he were to speed up just a little? No, that would be childish. He should definitely not do that.

You wrap your arms around his waist with a squeak at the sudden jerk as he revs up the bike, a grin growing on his face despite his attempts to hold it back. You’re warm, compared to the sharp winds grazing him and he wants you to hold onto him like this a little longer. If he’s not childish now, when else will he be?

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep, faint sunlight hiding behind the curtains ready to present the evening to you. A celebratory nap for the end of the deadlines that’s been haunting you overextended a little bit more than you’d anticipated. Just a few more weeks and it’s the finals and then, it’s all over. You stretch your hand out to switch on the lights, groaning when you can’t seem to reach it and reluctantly getting up.

You startle, a little yelp leaving your mouth at the knock on your window. What in hell? Either you haven’t slept enough or you slept too much.

You let out another yelp when you see Donghyuck’s face. There’s a band-aid over the line of his jaw starting to peel off and another one over the bridge of his nose. His hair looks recently washed, underneath the cap he’s wearing the right way for once, a pleasant smell wafting off him. You wonder what the occasion is for him to have cleaned up like this.

“Did you just climb up to my window?!”

There’s a pause.

“Yes.”

There’s another pause.

“Anyway,” he continues, “Since you’ve been enjoying my premium Haechan recommendations lately, I’ve got another plan for you.”

“Haechan?” You tilt your head. “Full sun? Is that why you call me sunflower?”

Donghyuck’s cheeks colour. “That’s- That’s not- We’re going to the club today!”

You find the sudden fluctuation in his voice cute. You suppress your smile, before giving in to his constant nagging for you to hurry up and follow him. (“Why would I get out through the window?” “Won’t your parents, like, kill me if they saw me at your front door?”)

There’s no bike today. In a way, you’re sad it isn’t there; the memory of your arms around Donghyuck making you feel hot in the cheeks for wanting it again.

“I finished my budget for fuel because of you,” he complains.

“No one asked you to be a show-off,” you retort.

He opens his mouth but says nothing, resorting to pull a face at you instead. Public transportation it is today. Even if there’s, what, nine subway stations in the city, Donghyuck seems to have already planned out the route. He walks with a bounce to his steps, turning around to walk backward facing you just to laugh and call you slow.

You run up the stairs to the station, another evening beginning something yet anew. The clouds disappear, replaced with the tiles of the station roof as Donghyuck eyes something in the distance.

“Oh no,” you say, your gaze traveling to wherever his is fixed. “We’re paying for the tickets. Hell, I’ll pay.”

Donghyuck grins at you and before he can make the stupid decision of jumping over the faregate, you grab the back of his collar, a choked sound leaving his mouth. You pull him by the sleeves of his hoodie to the ticket machines, relatively empty when the old folk use the ticket booths instead.

“You’ll go to jail if you murder me,” Donghyuck says, whining as he massages his neck. “It’s not pleasant, let me tell you that.”

“You’ve been?”

“Not yet.”

The club Donghyuck was talking about turns out to be more of a music joint, really. The letters ‘No Smoking’ spelled clearly beside the entrance, you eye the guard nervously. A rather skinny man who seems to be in his early twenties, you wonder how Donghyuck knows him as he lets the two of you in. You don’t have time to ask as you’re pulled in, a gasp barely leaving your mouth at the force.

It’s different inside. It’s not as dark as you’d expect, a rather mellow set of colours spread through the place. There’s a band playing songs from the 80s, the sound of indie rock pulsing through the place. Some people are dancing, some sitting at the round tables, looking as if they’re waiting for someone or, at the very least, a pretty stranger.

You look up at Donghyuck, a hum on his lips as he thinks.

“The song’s so boring,” he says finally. “Let’s change it.”

“It’s a live band, Donghyuck.” You deadpan. “You can’t press next here.”

“It’s called requesting, stupid.”

Donghyuck runs off before you can say anything, suddenly awkward about standing alone in a room full of people. You look around—the amount of people isn’t too much but at the same time it’s much more than you see in your average crowded room. Most of them are sitting, now that you see clearly, some with ramen on the tables, some with beer and chicken. There’s a bar at the other edge, people joking with each other over drinks.

You’re not sure how you’d describe it but it smells like people in here.

You look around further, curiously, at the beige wallpaper and vines decorating the edges—it’s larger than you thought a club would be. (But really, the only images you have are of purple and blue lighting on giant drunk crowds when you think of clubs.)

“Hey, pretty.”

You startle at the voice, an older man standing beside you. He seems to be a little old for a college kid, a rather impish look on his face with a very prominent grin.

“Uh, hi,” you say, unsure.

“You don’t come here often, do you?” He leans his left side against the wall.

“No, not really.” You’re a minor. Technically, you’re not even allowed in here.

Your nervousness seems to have shown up on your face because the guy straightens, a little smile on his face.

“Woah, don’t look so worried.” He laughs a little. There’s a scent of alcohol in his breath. “Will a friendly handshake make you feel better?”

You look on, a little unsure but definitely surprised. You go along with what he says, the movement of your hands in the childish pattern bringing a smile to your face till eventually, you’re laughing.

“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he says, “But you’re, like, a kid, right?”

You straighten, stammering out words of denial. You don’t want to be kicked out. You’ve never been kicked out of anything before.

“And that’s your boyfriend right there?” He asks, pointing over to Donghyuck having a conversation with the bass guitarist.

You think you turn pink, but you shake your head vehemently.

“Well, don’t worry, kid,” he says, laughing. “Enjoy it while you can. Not everyone gets to have a partner in crime.”

With that, he walks off to the bar after a wave of goodbye and a smile, making you wonder if adults really are the same as you. You smile a little to yourself.

You yelp when you’re grabbed by the arm, Donghyuck’s own arm linking through it.

“I’m gonna teach you how to dance,” he says, grinning. “Be prepared to thank me.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him and right when you open your mouth the next song starts with a drum solo. You look at the band, confused. They’re all grinning, however, and soon the song steadies into an upbeat sort of mood. You think you smile, but it’s probably just in the eyes.

“Eyes on me, loser,” Donghyuck says, smiling wide at you.

You turn back to him, an indescribable amount of emotions surging into you. Lee Donghyuck is a phenomenon of a person, you think, almost ready to voice it out loud.

More people join in with the dancing, the place seeming much fuller now that you see everyone up. You catch the man from earlier throwing you a wink and a finger gun in a friendly gesture. You laugh in response, Donghyuck complaining about your lack of focus. (If you’re being honest, you think he meant your lack of attention to him.)

You can’t count the minutes or hours—what’s the difference, really? Donghyuck smiles through his eyes, telling you you’re a terrible dancer (and that, of course, not everyone is born perfect like him). You learn to love the unknown songs, each note catching on to a new piece of your heart as Donghyuck shows you a move to copy, singing along gibberish lyrics to the songs he doesn’t know. It’s weird how you can mould into songs like this, songs you don’t even know—their beats pulling out different people and melodies making that person familiar.

There’s a soft halt when Donghyuck catches something through the corner of his eyes. He makes a face that spells out ‘yikes’ before leading you off the dance floor, snaking through the crowds till you’re back to the entrance.

“What’s wrong?” You say, eyes scanning his face.

“Oh, nothing, really,” he says, an unsure lilt to his voice.

Your question answers itself at the gruff voice barely audible over the music, a notch louder than when you’d entered.

“Hey, kid!”

Your heart jumps against your ribcage at the uniform of a police officer by the entrance, thinking whether everything really had to go wrong right now. Is underage dancing a crime? You didn’t drink and—oh, the entrance probably said 19+.

Donghyuck’s eyes flit from place to place looking for an escape when the officer confronts him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“You’re the kid that’s been stealing around the shops, aren’t you?”

“Uh, no?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, the expression on his face almost comedic. “You’ve got the wrong kid, officer.”

“And what might you be doing in a club? Where’s your ID?”

“About that…”

Donghyuck pushes the man with his elbow, leg extending to trip him, catching him off guard. You’d even be impressed if the loud crash didn’t make you yelp in surprise, looking at the two of them with terrified incredulity.

Donghyuck takes off running almost immediately after before backtracking and gesturing at you exasperatedly. “You know you’re supposed to run when I run, right?”

“What the fuck just happe—”

Donghyuck doesn’t wait to explain, gripping your hand in his and tugging you to match his insane pace as you exit through the entrance.

It takes a while to reach the subway station even at that speed and with the distant shouts of the police officer prompting you to move faster. The sky’s much darker now—you think it must be well into late evening before night gets ready to clutch the time. Donghyuck moves with careful calculation, taking turns in places you have no clue about and soon you’re running up the stairs with your breath barely caught in your throat.

The station lights are dim but you’re good as long as you don’t trip over something. You turn to the ticket machine in panic when you hear the officer’s voice by the gates.

“No time!” Donghyuck pulls you away, effortlessly jumping over the faregate and looking at you expectantly.

“I can’t do that, Donghyuck!” you complain, panic rising in your chest, adrenaline drowning the rest of it.

Before you can say anything more, Donghyuck reaches over the gate, pulling you up by the waist and grabbing your hand all over again to run down the stairs to the tunnels.

“Hey!”

You hear the shout of the lady behind the ticket counter, clearly having seen your misconduct as you pray for her to forget your face. You’d like to be able to use the subway for future travel.

The train’s about to shut its door when you reach. Donghyuck treads quickly on the stone before he jumps on, pulling you in just in time to avoid getting caught in between the sliding doors.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and the movement of the train on its tracks, the burning in your throat drowning out other senses. You slide down to crouch on the floor, your face hot and sweat drenching your forehead and neck. Your shoelaces are undone, you notice, no energy left in you to reach out and tie them into your perfect knots.

There’s a few moments of silence as you regain your composure.

“What was that?!” You laugh, unable to control yourself as you clutch your stomach. “You almost got arrested!”

He joins in with his sunny laughter, crouching down beside you. “Man, I really thought I was done for.”

After a few moments, Donghyuck sits with his legs crossed atop the passenger seat, the coach mostly empty save for you and an old couple at the far corner. He animatedly recalls a story of another near-arrest he had, with you laughing beside him.

A thought passes you in between jokes and stories—what if everything was like this always? Just the two of you, in a room full of people, in a room without people. You think you’ve started looking at Donghyuck a bit too much. You’re not sure about regretting it.

Donghyuck’s been getting the strangest of impulses these days.

He tilts his head away from you to check the time on his watch, the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder reassuring, even if it’s hard to admit. It’s half-past ten and he’s been staring at you for a little over an hour now. Who falls asleep in the subway? Sure, there being not many stops, the journey between each is longer but Donghyuck wouldn’t be caught dead drooling on someone’s shoulder like this.

You shift, Donghyuck immediately moving to cradle your head with his hand so it just doesn’t drop off. Your lips are puffed even in sleep as if you’re still caught in an argument with him. He chuckles to himself. It’s so like you.

Cross the line. The voice in his head says. Just dip your head a little and…

Your head leans into the skin between his neck and shoulder, a shot of electricity pulsing through him at the contact. There’s a race of thoughts within him, thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

What is he so afraid of, really? What is he, Lee Donghyuck, so afraid of? Love? That’s the lamest thing he can think of.

It’s true, though.

Fucking voice of his conscience—loud thoughts are more a pain in the ass than anything else. Donghyuck will resort to cowardice if it be so. He’s not going to be reduced to something he’s not just because he’s head over heels in his own feelings for you.

Donghyuck pushes the hair from your face, craning his neck to be able to see you better. Wanting to love, wanting to be loved—what a stupid thing to fear. He sighs, closing his own eyes and checking the time once again. He’ll wake you up in a few minutes when your station’s near.

You stop at the medicine to store to buy antiseptic cream and some band-aids. Donghyuck says he doesn’t need it, he has some at home but you must be good at convincing. There’s a little garden of scratches on his palm even he’s not sure when he received.

You sit in the empty parking lot, under the only streetlight that seems to be working in the area. The convenience store beside you is there to provide its twenty-four-hour lights if not anything else. There are some people out on nightly walks, you notice when you look at the sidewalk. It surprises you a little to see shapes of people against midnight blue.

You’ve never been out so late. You text your mom to remind her you’re still alive before you can turn your attention to Donghyuck.

“Okay! Enough!” He retreats his hand, complaining. “My hand smells like a pharmacy at this point.”

You lean back against the streetlamp, sighing.

“I can’t believe we ran away from a police officer,” you say, a goofy smile on your face as you stretch your arms in front of you.

“There’s always a first.” Donghyuck grin. “You don’t have to thank me for that, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll regret it. How long do you plan on being reckless?”

“How long do you plan on pretending you don’t enjoy it?” He asks, face leaning in with a sly smile.

You think you feel heat on your cheeks, you can’t be sure, but you end up scoffing, a rather losing response to someone who’s used to winning.

“You’re clearly into my devilishly handsome face,” he continues with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Does my recklessness turn you on? Don’t you think I look good? You can’t blame m—”

This brat.

You yank him by the cloth of his hoodie to get face to face, noses almost touching. Watching the confidence drain from his face, you’d laugh but it’d just give away the sudden adoration you feel. What a shame this demon was blessed to be so cute.

There’s a pause the length of a breath.

Donghyuck’s eyelids flutter close just as he presses his lips against yours, a soft sound escaping yours. He places a hand against your cheek as nimbly as possible, something pushing him to deepen what you have. You give in, humming into the kiss as you pull yourself closer.

For all the havoc he wreaks, Donghyuck isn’t necessarily a bad kisser. His lips are soft—his investment in lip balms improved since you first met him and the scent of whatever he used is delicious.

It’s a few moments of kissing when Donghyuck suddenly pulls back.

“I don’t deserve this,” he says, eyes flickering.

You look on, unsure. It’s not like him to falter. “What- What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he responds, looking at his hands, “that I’m really not good enough. I’m just- I’m not who people think I am. Hell, I don’t know who I am. It’s just- I don’t-”

You place your hand against his cheek, his rambling fading away as he looks into you.

“Even if you like me because you think I’m fun,” he continues, “I mess things up, you know? I mess things up really bad. If you get hurt- If- Ah, I don’t know what to say.”

“I really like you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, “but you’re making no sense right now.”

There’s a pause within the night air.

“I…I put a kid in the hospital,” he says, voice low and upset. “In middle school. I- I didn’t mean to! I can’t remember what happened but…we had to pay the bills and- and we’re still recovering.”

There’s a stifling silence. You lift his chin up so he faces you, the inability to see his expression troubling.

“I still feel guilty,” he whispers. “I do things for fun. And I fuck up the consequences.”

Donghyuck’s calculating and careful. You already know that.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, not finding any better words. “We’re big kids now.”

“But that doesn’t mean—”

“I’m not saying anything like that,” you interrupt. “We’ll still fuck up, you know? Adults fuck up. Doesn’t mean we don’t do things at all.”

“God, I hate you lecturing me,” he groans, looking away.

You crack a smile, still holding his face, the side without the band-aid. Donghyuck doesn’t say you’re right, a short chuckle on his lips instead before he leans in to peck you on the mouth, slowly turning into another kiss.

You think you hear the buzz of fireflies, spring’s darlings, although you didn’t know they’d be found here. Donghyuck looks pretty under the streetlight, as you connect mole to mole, an airy feeling in your chest, almost bubbling over.

You want to tell him he’s amazing, but you figure you’d tend to his ego some other day.

“Hey, you got that leather jacket!” you exclaim when you walk into class, Donghyuck’s head in Renjun’s chokehold.

He’s quick to defend himself, shaking Renjun off him and scoffing. “I didn’t get it because you said so, obviously.”

You shake your head with a laugh, sitting at your place. Donghyuck smiles to himself before dropping it to shoot some comments at Renjun.

“Nothing going on with our precious demon there?”

You look up to see Jaemin smiling at you, clearly onto something. You haven’t told anyone yet, every rendezvous a ridiculously honest secret.

You turn your head to see Donghyuck consuming a bag of hot Cheetos in what seems to be a competition with Zhong Chenle. You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the scene. What’s even going on in their heads? If anything at all, that is.

Jaemin clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him. He has some sort of expectation in his eyes.

You laugh, more than enough to answer him. Really, being fond of Lee Donghyuck shouldn’t feel so much a crime as the city lights in his eyes do.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | A MYSTERIOUS INTERLUDE

first time reader click here

This is a scrapped chapter. Originally, I was planning to 1) give Reader a longer, more intense destructive streak before her ending up with Tony. I planned three or so chapters that involved an abusive Quentin Beck, but, ultimately decided that to be too cliché. 2) I had planned to write at least 30% of the fanfic in Tony's/third person POV. This chapter would have been number 11/12 - Tony would have rejected her advances in the lab & she would have got hooked on Beck's charming facade.

Why am I publishing this? It seems like a waste if effort to shelf it, plus, it's Tony's POV. You can skip it since it has no relation/bearing on the current story. Just a tiny "what might have been" tidbit.

It was a moment's notice. One second, they're standing in a group, laughing, soaking in the warmth from the fireplace, chattering amongst themselves, telling tall tales and sipping their liquor. It all goes black briefly, and then they are surrounded by darkness - it's nearly impenetrable, so thick that their voices echo in it.

Tony's body was encompassed by the nanotech suit immediately after his eyes and his brain adjusted to the rapid change of surroundings. His teammates, too, had their skills honed on an instinctive level - the faint thump of Mjölnir in Thor's hands, the golden-green glow of his brother's magic, whirring of Barnes' prosthetic arm. Steve's shield stayed tucked behind the living room couch but his enhanced physique and readiness to fight 24/7 has him covering the unenhanced Clint and Natasha in mere seconds.

Tony was mostly angry rather than afraid. The team was having a good time at his party and the chance encounters of weird shit like this had been reduced to nearly zero percent possibility thanks to Friday's screening process: supervillains, Hydra agents and the likes strictly prohibited on Stark-owned premises.

It was a strange coincidence Banner had to take a break to check up on one of his experiments not even five minutes before the rest of the team was experiencing the strange change in scenery. Speaking of Strange, the sorcerer also was nowhere to be seen - Tony distinctively remembered seeing Stephen ten feet away from the bar, engaged in a hearty debate with the lead of SI's Medical Engineering department.

"This is not magic," Wanda piped up from behind him, confused. "I don't feel anything on the usual frequency. It sounds more like Friday humming in the walls, like electricity."

Good to know, Tony thought. It was nice having someone who was familiar with the undiscovered side of science - after all, Tony had always considered anything 'magical' to be science he had not personally understood yet. Wanda's most redeeming quality in Tony's eyes was the fact that more often than not she seemed to be as clueless as everyone else when it came to her powers and didn't act so high and mighty as some other people. Cloaked people, and horned people, for example.

"The fuck, man? I was hoping, just one evening, one normal evening with my beer and wings," Clint whined. Tony could hear Natasha huffing in annoyed agreement.

"Mr. Stark, what are we going to do?" His very own spider-child, on the other hand, sounded distraught. Peter's voice has this funny thing it does when the boy is upset but tries to hide it: it quivers on the vowels, wobbles slightly.

Tony had to blindly grope the air for a moment before his arm found Peter's shoulder. The boy was shivering and took the offered comfort eagerly, folding into the older man.

"Okay, whoever is pulling this stunt, my advice is: don't," Tony sighed, 12 000% Done With This Shit™, exclaiming loudly. "If that's a prank, stop it or speak up. If you got beef, then you got some nerve doing this in my tower. Show yourself."

He could feel the fine hairs on his neck stand up as the team tensed next to him, readily gearing up to pounce. Peter was vibrating in Tony's arms and the billionaire suddenly remembered the curious side-effects of Peter's powers, the spidey-sense. It must have been going absolutely haywire - the kid nearly hyperventilated himself into a heart attack.

"Stark, I must apologise for the uncomfortable circumstances. Believe me, it was a necessity - you always demand attention, whereas I need people to pay attention to me for a moment. Don't worry, you'll get yours when the time is due."

The voice was vaguely familiar. Male, slightly nasal but quiet and creeping. Insinuating. It lacked the usual boisterous bravado of a mid-grade bad guy, Tony had to take an educated guess that the owner of the mysterious voice was well-off, white. Privileged. No hint of desperation in it, as if the man was pitying everybody.

"The fuck? Q, is that you?"

Oh shit, Tony realized in muted horror. She must've been hanging around somewhere in their vicinity - which wasn't unusual, the girl usually orbited around Barnes, Wanda, Peter or Bruce. All of whom were present at the party. Tony had forgotten about her, to his shame, somehow having had automatically assumed she trotted out of the room on Bruce's heels. His science bro and her acted like conjoined twins when it came to their scientific ventures.

"Stop talking," The man growled, the voice suddenly coming from a very different direction. Tony heard a distinctively feminine yelp, albeit muffled. Peter violently jerked in Tony's arms. The engineer put the superstrength of his suit to use, holding the teenager down.

"Aw, hell no!" She yelled, the indignant shrieking followed by the sound of a moist palm slapping something glass...y? "What the fuck? I am asking you again. Are you... Oh my God, are you wearing a fishbowl on your head? Ow, motherfu-" The rest of the sentence is muffled, garbled. Whoever this "Q" was, she obviously knew him and he had silenced her. And, apparently, Q had an uncanny choice of headwear.

Tony was sure the rest of the team had followed his lead on doing a spit-take. They've fought enough supervillains with more than questionable fashion sense but a fishbowl? That was new.

"Be quiet, baby. It's for your own good. I don't want to hurt you if I can help it," The Fishbowl chastised her.

Tony's confusion once again returned to irritation at the frivolous way the villain addressed his science buddy. Peter's friend would have been more accurate but Tony had put her into the 'science bro' category not too long ago. They were close, as much as they could be, with the age gap and totally different interests and... The immense amount of guilt Tony felt for his attraction towards the girl. He was a dirty old man and she was barely an adult.

Every damn day Tony did his best to avoid making a shiny, big, new problem. Yet her brains and her wit and the uncanny ability to pull anybody into a conversation had a firm hold on his attention.

"Leave her alone," Stark angrily declared, powering up a repulsor. "What do you want? Party crashing isn't allowed in my tower anymore."

"What I want, Stark, is for you to give credit where it's due," The man answered simply, giving Tony just enough time to shove Peter behind him towards Natasha and take a tentative step forward.

The soft glow emanating from the repulsor illuminated barely two inches around his hand. The darkness surrounding it seemed to swallow the light. Tony moved on quiet feet towards the voice, easily avoiding furniture. His memory was good and he knew his tower, his home, better than anyone else.

"Did I hear that correctly, you're accusing me of plagiarism?" Tony tried for indignant, hoping to provoke the man into an inevitable, drawn-out speech where he lists all the wrongs Tony ever did him, giving the team precious time to regroup and form some semblance of a plan.

"Yes," Q simply answered, pausing for a second. "I hope you enjoy your next adventure. It certainly will show you the potential of my creation."

Tony shared a muted sound of confusion with the rest of the team.

"Q, I am very disappointed," To Tony's horror, th girl stared talking again. She sounded somewhat breathless, and closer to him than before. "Stop it with the dick measuring contest, you're a grown ass man. Go work for OsCorp, or Hammer, drink your sorrows away." She sounded so tired. And even closer to him.

"This is not a dick measuring contest!" Q roared suddenly and wow, that man was unstable. "This was my life's work, my creation, he insulted, berated and threw away!"

"I get it, I really get the whole 'being discarded and thrown away' thing," She replied, somewhat sarcastically. "But you know what? I'll be damned and I'll be fucked if I give some piece of shit any more of my undivided attention. They don't want me? Fine, they can fuck off and take their complaints with them." Her speech was periodically interrupted by shuffling noises.

Tony didn't dare to interrupt, seeing now the possibility of Q being actually calmed down by a teenager (probably) quoting some teen drama TV show.

"But going full Joker? You're a brilliant man, Quen, I wouldn't even look at you twice if not for your brains and your baby blues, however I don't fuck with the bad guys. That shit kills," The hand that rested on the wrist cuff of Tony's suit unmistakably belonged to her. She had the remnants of some sort of wire around it, sleek and quicksilver-shiny, irritating the tender skin under it. "And I want to live. You've gone and pissed off an entire crew of supers and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think, Quen," There was genuine sadness in her voice.

Tony stood silent in confusion.

Whoever this Quen was, they obviously shared a close relationship. Tony's brain ran through the list of her friends, her relatives - there was nobody named Q, Quen or even remotely similar. Natasha had mentioned a possible boyfriend at some point but the man sounded too old for that, he was at least thirty. Or maybe? Tony wouldn't put it completely past the girl, if judging by the blatant way she flirted with Bruce. With himself.

"Baby, this is not about you. I don't want to hurt you," Quen replied, a hysterical edge to his voice. Something began flickering in the distance, attracting Tony's attention to the shape of a man with a round sort of helmet and a red, billowing cape (hello, 2012-Thor!).

"Too late, Quen. You've tied me up and you went on to attack my friends. I've already told you that if you yell at me one more time, I will leave you. So I guess this is it," Her voice broke at the end, pitiful sniffles following the statement.

Tony watched the exchange, mildly uncomfortable and very concerned. The man yelled at her? That was absolutely unacceptable, however, what else could one expect from a maniac with a flair for the dramatic?

The girl bodily placed herself in front of Tony, standing, doing nothing but rubbing her wrists. It was then that the engineer noticed Q nearing them, the shape becoming distinctively closer. And - yep, there it was - the fishbowl on his head. It completely obscured him, making his face invisible, unrecognisable.

The man seemed rather fixated on the girl standing in front of Tony. He floated in front of her, ignoring Tony, taking her bound hands in his own. A brief click and a hiss later, her wrists were released and the contraption fell freely to the floor where it landed with an oddly heavy thud. Tony hoped there was no lead in that thing - supervillains were dangerous but lead poisoning was cancerous and fatal.

"Baby..." Quen timidly touched her face with a leather-bound glove. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry." Tony took the chance to examine the man's costume. If anything, it looked somewhat steampunk-y? There was a lot of bronze, and the chest brace had some sort of glowing lines on it. Power storage units?

She stared up, towards the man's hidden face. "M'sorry, Quen," She mumbled, going in for a hug. Or that's what Tony thought. The majestic cape that billowed behind Quen was unceremoniously yanked from his body as the girl ducked, covering herself with it, yelling: "TONY, NOW, SHOOT, SHOOT!"

Tony did just that, shot Quen flat in the chest and the man stumbled backwards, tripping on the cape - such a stupid, unexpected thing. But Tony knew, his girl was clever and resourceful. Pride swelled in his chest as he shot the man again, Rogers running out from behind him blindly, body-slamming Quen into the ground for good measure. Two hundred pounds of supersoldier later, the battle was over before it even started.

"No!" The villain shouted as Steve pressed and popped the hilarious glass contraption on his head. The accessory was no match for the Captain's super strength. Tony immediately recognised the man as his former employee, Quentin Beck, and it clicked for him. It was totally a personal vendetta.

"This stuff is tough, plexiglass, maybe," The Captain remarked, pointing at the scattered shards around Beck's head. "It appears to be augmented too, some kind of tech, I don't know. You're good at this, Tony," Steve chuckled humorlessly, roughly turning Beck around and securing his hands with a pair of vibranium-reinforced handcuffs. God only knew where he'd gotten those from.

"Good at what? Making enemies?" Stark couldn't resist the self-depricating joke.

"Stop it, Tony," Natasha's gently admonishing voice interrupted Steve's incoming lecture. Tony, for once, was thankful that the Widow interrupted. He was in no mood to listen to another one of Steve's speeches.

"Who do you work for?" That deadly gleam in Natasha's eyes was terrifying and Beck was only a man.

"I don't work for anyone but myself, thanks to Stark," He spat venomously.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow in Tony's direction.

"Fired him years ago, this guy was going nuts. Brilliant but crazier than a bag of cats," Tony replied, feigning nonchalance. He could feel a mild headache begin to gnaw at his skull. "We worked on a project together, he got upset that I refused to weaponize it. We had a falling out. End of story." With that, Tony stood up, retracing his suit to only leave the gauntlets on his hands, gathered the various pieces of tech the good captain had removed from Beck's persona and made way towards the nearest table.

Or where he thought it was. All of them were still surrounded by the uncanny darkness. The anxiety that Tony forcefully shut down reared it's ugly head as soon as he lost physical touch with his teammates. He stumbled, his foot catching onto something on the ground.

"Ow, motherfucker!"

"Buttercup, I haven't fucked your mother nor I plan to," He snarked back automatically, flooded with relief at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Hope so. She'd probably bite your dick off if you try," A hand was groping his calf and then she stood up in front of him, still clutching the ridiculous cape. It appeared to be a source of light, which was very strange. The girl looked positively demonic, illuminated by red light, face scrunched up, eyes puffy, and clothing in disarray.

"You good?" Tony managed to choke out, confusion and worry and anxiety making his chest tight.

"Balmy. My boyfriend is a homicidal maniac with an inferiority complex," She sassed, an edge of panic to her voice. "Oh, and he tried to kill one of my best friends. I am fine and dandy."

"Your boyfriend?" That was the only thing Tony heard. Bat-shit crazy Beck, his babygirl's boyfriend? There was no way in Hell he'd allow such a thing...

"My ex-boyfriend, I guess," She sighed, removing the cape from her persona. Refusing to meet his eyes, fiddling with the hem of her top. "Here," The girl abruptly thrust the cape at him. "This is a funny thing, it's like a hologram but you can actually touch it. You should, uh, probably disinfect it, or something. I've been on-uh, around it many times," It was so unlike her, the fumbling, the embarrassment, Tony wanted to wheel her straight to medical to check if she's gotten concussed again.

Then his brain caught up and all he saw was red. Figuratively and literally - the cape was still in his face, loosely hanging from her outstretched hand. She must've seen the look on his face.

The step she took back was quick and worrying. "Forget I said that, I don't know why I said that. Oh, god."

"What were you thinking?" Tony inhaled a solid lungful, prepared to make his opinion very clear. "Getting involved with a lunatic! For a second I actually thought you were smart, there isn't a chance you missed that the guy is short of a few marbles," His voice was quiet, the one of a calm fury. His words cut deeply and he could see the hurt, the shame in her eyes, on her face. Tony knew he'd regret it later however his brain insisted it was a necessary evil. He continued ranting until he ran out of breath. "Not to mention he's, what, twice your age? And he yells at you and tells you to shut up? It didn't ring any alarm bells in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Tony, stop," Steve's hand landed on the engineer's shoulder and he simply shrugged it off, staring at the quivering girl in front of him.

She was crying, silently, few tears pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, leaving ugly streaks in her make-up. Tony expected her to sass him, to argue back, to yell obscenities like she usually did when something or someone upset her but he was met with hurt, stunned silence. His worst fear came true when she looked away, shrugging.

He'd seen this sort of dejected shrug the time her father drugged her and... She just took it. She expected it, even, his outrage, his disappointment. Being hurt and mistreated was the norm for her, Tony realized belatedly. There were too many parallels between them both that made him uncomfortable deep inside. His chest felt tight, regret washing over him like a tsunami wave.

"I'm turning on the lights, close your eyes for maximum comfort," Strange's voice announced suddenly, causing everybody to jump and shudder. Tony complied begrudgingly. The sudden influx of light was painful even from behind closed eyelids. His headache became a full-on dull throb.

"What happened?" "Are you okay?" "Is everybody alive?" Resonated across the room. Tony spied several small drones smoking and crackling next to the exit door, Stephen Strange closing a portal he must've used to evacuate the civilians.

The puddle of red holographic cape on the floor. And her hastily retreating back. Damn.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

#party favours #bun writes #Quentin Beck #tony stark fanfiction

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belovedrival · 3 years

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I’m waiting for the washer’s cycle to get done, so I might as well get some thoughts out:

Jonas has been suuuuuuuuuper cranky/clingy/crying loads for several days. I think it’s a combination of factors: we were at my parents’ house for a week, in which his normal schedule was completely thrown off, not to mention the overstimulation of eleven cousins in the house; the day after we got home from Missouri, I went back to work, so in Jonas’s eyes, Mama just vanished during the days, which had to at least be a huge change (not saying Mister doesn’t take care of our baby - it’s just Jonas was used to seeing me most of the time); my in-laws arrived a week ago, which is nice because they’ve been helping with the move and looking after their grandson, but it’s another disruption. He’s been waking up more at night as well, and he fights sleep and nap time during the day. This is why I really just want to be moved and the transition over. I want to be settled so we can establish a routine.

On to other thoughts…

My dad has always had a temper. I know, I inherited it. He’s mellowed a LOT since I was a kid, but he still flares up sometimes. I forget what that looks like to someone who didn’t grow up witnessing it - namely, Mister.

Right before we left Mom and Dad’s (literally, we had packed up and we were walking out the front door) Dad blew up at one of my nephews. He and a couple of his brothers were looking at a frame on the kitchen counter that shows pictures…we all upload them to a website and Mom and Dad get the pictures on this thing. All I saw was the boys leaning on the counter, looking at it. I have no idea what D did, but Dad just exploded on him, hollering to get away from the counter.

Later in the car Mister explained how he saw it. “The older boys had this look on their faces, like they wanted to get far away from your dad - and they looked like they’d seen that kind of thing before and were glad they weren’t in the firing line. And your dad didn’t give D ANY time to react, he just screamed at him.”

All of the above is true.

I don’t tend to react when Dad does that kind of thing; I definitely think I feel a combination of waiting for the sudden thunderstorm (so to speak) to blow over, surprise that he still can react so strongly to something that, at least, doesn’t appear to be a big deal at all, and, like my oldest nephews, I feel a certain amount of self-preservation is in order. “Better them [the other person/people] than me.”

That was the second similar incident we’d witnessed during the week. Dad had apologized to the grandchild he’d yelled at earlier in the week, and his apology was before a meal, in the presence of everyone. I do give my father credit for admitting that he’s wrong, and apologizing in front of everyone.

To Mister, that isn’t enough. “It would be better if he didn’t explode at all, rather than having to apologize after the fact,” he said. While I agree with him on the merits I wonder if it’s wise to expect a 65 year old man to stop acting like - well, the same way he’s acted for at least sixty years. Human nature being what it is, I think the best I can expect is that such incidents will diminish. They HAVE done so over the years. I know. I grew up with the man.

All of this is not to say I condone his behavior. I recalled to Mister a similar incident when I was a child (and was bearing the brunt of my dad’s anger), and I remember what I told myself in that moment: “I will never be like you.”

Bold thoughts, especially for a child, and probably premature, being that it’s rare for an adult to keep promises, even to herself, that she made as a child - and long before she became a parent herself. But I am going to do my best to keep that promise to my twelve year old self. I do not want Jonas to have a memory of me losing it, and him thinking, “I don’t ever want to be like her.”

I have a choice. I don’t have to say, as Mister heard my brother say after the earlier incident, “well, that’s what it was like for us growing up”. That is true, but it seems to be giving a sort of “what can you do?” sort of vibe. We can do better.

Some people might read this and think I grew up in an abusive home. I did not. Not at all. I grew up in a loving home with flawed parents, who made mistakes (both of them). They taught us the importance of apologizing fully for one’s mistakes, and not making excuses for them. I learned the value of forgiveness. True repentance deserves real forgiveness.

I want to be better. I also don’t want to fear that when I make mistakes, that I’ll be judged for them with no possibility of forgiveness from those I’ve wronged. It is a two way street: we can’t expect perfection from imperfect people, and if someone asks for forgiveness and we refuse (for any reason) it will harm us as well as the one who’s done wrong.

Also, to be clear: as a Christian, yes, it is an obligation for me to forgive fellow Christians. (And anyone else who asks sincerely.) Forgiveness does NOT mean being absolved from all consequences. My dad asked for forgiveness from all of us present for the first incident when he lost his temper; and it was given to him. The pattern of him losing his temper, however, also means that at some point in the not so distant future I and my husband will have to talk to him. We do not want our child, his grandchild, to be at the receiving end of his anger as Jonas gets older. We do want Jonas to know and love his grandpa. We expect my dad to keep his temper around him. If he doesn’t, he will not have the privilege of having Jonas stay with them alone. I will most certainly have that conversation with my mother present.

As I said in a previous post, lots of thoughts about our week at mom and dad’s. I did stop thinking about our move for awhile, though! 🙂

Be well, friends.

#thoughts #so many thoughts #moving #jonas #poor little dude #he’s going through it #so is mister #mister #me and mister #family #my parents #mom and dad #dad #my temper

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meet-the-decoy · 4 years

Note

Hey Decoy! What exactly is your role on the battle field?

MEET THE DECOY

Description

It isn't hard to see that she is the fairest one on the team. Decoy isn't afraid to use her feminine touch to her advantage and being on a team with mostly men has it's perks. But don't be fooled, this girl isn't as sweet as she looks. She's a babe with quite a bite.

Primary

Stock

- Duel pistols: (ammo 12/36 each)

Craft

- Boxing glove gun: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to punch an opponent with as much force as a Heavy.

- Pole vault: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy a 20% boost on acrobatics.

-Mini canon: (ammo 20)

Is similar to Soldier's rocket launcher. Each shot takes several seconds to reload but gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down agility.

Uncrate

- Chainsaw: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage at close range. Won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Bear trap: (ammo N/A)

Traps enemies for several seconds while giving mini crits. Can only be used once every 30 seconds.

- Water pistols: (ammo 100 each)

Counteracts Pyro fires. This weapon extinguishes teammates that are ablaze as well as sapping the enemy Engineer's buildings.

Secondary

Stock

- Hand grenades: (ammo 20)

Craft

- Fireworks: (ammo 20)

This weapon creates flash bangs and blinds the enemy for several seconds and can also light enemies on fire depending on range.

- Taser: (ammo N/A)

Electrifies enemies and paralyzes them for up to 3 seconds. Effects enemies differently. Has a cool down time of 3 seconds.

- Sling shot: (ammo 20)

Let's Decoy launch grenades just as far as a Demoman, letting her throw them farther then she originally could. It can also be used to launch health kits to teammates.

- Water Balloons: (ammo 20)

Extinguishes teammates who are on fire. It also washes way Jarate from teammates who may be covered in it.

Uncrate

- Throwing knives: (ammo 12)

Allows Decoy to trick stab like a Spy but at longer distances. Can be used during acrobatics.

- Playing cards: (ammo 3 decks)

Cards can slice enemies to inflict damage. Cards can be boomeranged back to be reused if thrown correctly.

- Grappling hook: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to get to higher nesting spots with ease. Boosts acrobatics by 5%. Grapple can be shot at enemies to finish off kills.

Melee

Stock

- Bullwhip: (ammo N/A)

Craft

- Chain: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down acrobatics by 15% as a result.

- Spider net: (ammo 8)

Bounds enemies for several seconds. This also leaves the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical damage.

- Roller skates: (ammo N/A)

Allows Decoy to match the speed of that of a Scout. Decoy won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Megaphone: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's vocals and lures enemies easier.

Uncrate

- Lipstick: (ammo N/A)

Ables Decoy to give a teammate ÜberCharge for 3 seconds by kissing them. This weapon also restores a teammates health by 50%. Gives critical damage to enemies.

- Mirror: (ammo N/A)

Blinds the enemy for 3 seconds by shining light in the enemy's eyes. This weapon is most effective on Snipers.

- Ribbon wand: (ammo N/A)

Steals 15% of an enemy's ammo. Ammo can be given to other teammates or can be used personally.

- Perfume: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's lures. Perfume can also be used to disorient enemies for several seconds. No man can resist the smell of flowers and gunpowder.

PDA

Primary

- Acrobatics

Secondary

- Vocal

Special Taunts

• Song Bird

This taunt makes enemies vision blur whenever they get to close to her singing. This makes the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical hits.

• Damsel in Distress

This taunt gives Decoy the ability to make enemies hurt their own teammates. Every shot that hits a teammate will lower their health depending on distance different variables. Can only be used once every 3 minutes.

• Blowing Kisses

This taunt has the Decoy blow a kiss at the enemy. Whoever the kiss lands on receives critical damage. If the kiss lands on a teammate, it restores their health by 15%.

• Love Me, Love Me Not

This taunt has Decoy pick pedals off of a flower. If a heart appears, then the enemy walks free. If a broken heart appears then the enemy receives critical damage. This taunt gives a 50/50 chance each time it is used.

• Love Potion No.9

Can be slipped into any food or beverage. Once consumed, the enemy cannot hurt Decoy up to 10 seconds. This taunt can only be used 3 times during a match.

• Milkshake

In this taunt, Decoy pulls out a tray and proceeds to make and serve milkshakes to anyone who takes them. Decoy serves any flavor of milkshake to her teammates to boost their health level much like Heavy's Sandvich, but is far sweeter.

Achievements

• Master Maiden: Achieve over 50 'Blowing Kisses' taunt kills.

• Golden Gal: Seduce kill each class in one round.

• Lucky Lady: Dodge 5 airblasted rockets using acrobatics.

• Flirting with Death: Lure a Scout over 100 times

• Here to Save The Day: Protect a struggling teammate more than 5 times in one round.

• The Angelic Acrobat: Save a teammate over 20 times by throwing back a Demoman's grenade using acrobatics.

• Dangerous Dame: Seduce kill 500 times.

• Kiss it Better: Heal over 75 teammates using 'Blowing Kisses' taunt or by using Lipstick melee.

Domination Lines

SCOUT

"So you're the fastest man alive, huh? Is that why you can't get a date?"

"Why so red tough guy?"

"I like a guy who can make me laugh."

"Hey, my eyes are up here scooter."

"Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth."

SOLDIER

"If I threw a stick, you’d leave, right?"

"Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once in awhile, but you really abuse the privilege."

"You look good with black and blue."

"Are you always such an idiot, or do you just show off when I’m around?"

"I was hoping for a battle of wits but it would be wrong to attack someone who’s totally unarmed."

PYRO

"I AM a woman, what's your excuse?"

"Still think your on fire?"

"What in the hell? What are you supposed to be?"

"Did things get really hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Earth is full. Go home."

ENGINEER

"Whoopsie, did I do that?"

"Look at the cute little toys! Can I play with one?"

"You only annoy me when you’re breathing, really."

"Your birth certificate is an apology to your parents from the hospital."

"How impressive! You can put your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass at the same time!"

HEAVY

"So... do you name your guns because you can't get a real date or?..."

"Oh wow, this must be pretty embarrassing for you."

"Are your compensating for something?"

"Jesus christ, You’re so fat you could sell shade."

"You are the human version of period cramps."

DEMOMAN

"Sorry, but you won't be able to drink away the alcoholism."

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, you'll lose your accent."

"*sad crying that turns into cruel laughter*"

"You’ll never be the man your mom is."

"Nice onesie, does it come in men's?"

"Aww, Do you need me to kiss your boo-boo better?"

MEDIC

"Excuse me nurse, could you take a look at this for me?"

"They took your license away for a reason doctor."

"Oh! I like your dress!"

"If laughter is the best medicine, your face must be curing the world."

SNIPER

"That's disgusting."

"Isn’t there a bullet somewhere you could be jumping in front of?"

"Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you need to act like one."

"I’ve been called worse by better."

"There’s no doubt about it. Your father should have pulled out earlier."

SPY

"Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey croissant, your fly’s undone."

"If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."

"Acting like a prick doesn’t make yours grow bigger."

"Je n'ai jamais pensé rencontrer un homme sans couilles."

DECOY

"You're not cute sweetheart."

"See, this is why the men don't take us seriously."

"Nice outfit. I bet if you stood on a street corner, you’d make some money."

"Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because your boyfriend thinks so."

"I’ve seen your kind before…but last time, I had to pay admission.

Backstory

Decoy (Delilah Lou Rose) was born April 1st, 1941 in a backstage tent and grew up as a acrobatic clown in the Canadian Circus.

She was brought to the Administrator's attention when she slaughtered a total of 12 men with ease during a break in and attempted assault. A meeting with Saxton Hale eventually led to a job offer. Needing the money, she takes a job with the Gravel wars, thinking it was a show. Once she realizes that it is in fact not a show, but a place where men kill each other, it's too late.

Delilah Lou became a new class called the Decoy, where she would lure unsuspecting men to their death. It wasn't long before she fell in love with the job and grew strong friendships with her coworkers.

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Sweet sin.

She sensed his presence in her vicinity before he actually approaches her, the way she always has ever since she locked her eyes on him. Raven detected a shift in the air and then he is at her back, her skin immediately feels him breathing on her long neck. Her shoulders sag in relief but she does not dare turn around, in case it will shatter everything.

There is something different about him. But then again, she supposed there is something different about them now as well. "Raven” her breath hitches as he pronounces her name like a prayer, quietly and her eyes fill inexplicably. There are suddenly a thousand things to tell him, as there always is when they spend time apart. And it had been an unconscionably long time for her liking.

He abruptly grabbed her tiny hand to pull her closer to him and she exhaled. "Brother in law.”

The soft exhale through his nose indicates his arrogant smile. They stand there completely still, as if making sure the other is truly there before Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other and bends his head to speak to directly to her small ear. “Could you get away tonight?" Jason whispered eagerly, breath hot against her throat. She so many questions but realized it is not the time, and they have to be careful, there’s no handmaidens or servants around fortunately, but one must be wary at all times, so she swallowed hard and nodded instead.

There is a window in the room, facing the setting sun. It bathes the room in golden light, seemingly setting her dark hair on shining like night sky. The light makes her skin look luminescent, soft and playful and perfect. And he wished they were alone, to let his hands and lips roam freely the smooth skin he has kissed innumerable times, yet he couldn’t get enough. He can’t help it as his left hand settle on her waist discreetly, pulling her closer. His thumb grazes the underside of her breast, because he is wicked and can’t think to stop himself. She silently removes his hand from the side of her breast, and his eyes spot the exquisite gold band in her ring finger, reminding him at the eyes of the world she was not his. He knitted his brows instinctively, in frustration, wild anger.

Wide dark blue eyes, almost violet, those enigmatic orbs he adores lock with his, and he can tell the exact moment when comprehension settles in, when she understands just how much he hates being forced to share her with his own brother. He suddenly feels he’s too greedy, burdening her with this knowledge. But he wants her like no other, and she was belonged to him in ways his brother would never have her.

“Come to my room when your husband is asleep, little bird.” He waited for her to nod again, subtly glancing at the corners in case there’s a spy or unwanted witness and then he is gone in an instant. They couldn’t let anyone suspect. She held in the gasp that almost escapes her mouth when he is no longer pressed against her back, pushes down the urge to whirl around and run after him and profess her longing for him all those weeks he was gone. Raven Wayne stands tall, looks down the corridor for her husband. Richard was too concentrated reading a book when he half consciously catches her eye, smiling at her immediately. Sweet and distant Richard never said a word about her close relationship with his younger brother. Jason.

~~~

Jason couldn’t stay anymore, having her so close in proximity, yet so very far away, left Jason filled with something like despair. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to watch her anymore. He ached to touch her, publicly claim her as his. It had been so long, and yet the memory of her under his fingers occupied his every thought.

Contrary to popular belief, Jason Wayne was not accustomed to sharing the bed of beautiful women. Not the whole night at least.

Being a loyal customer to the finest brothels in Rome, he had learned that money only granted you a certain amount of time and services and cuddling your beloved of the night in the aftermath of lovemaking wasn't one of them. Not when she was married to your older brother. There had been other women, of course, before her, the world wasn't divided between noble ladies and whores, after all. But Jason had never spent the entire night through the morning with one of his conquests. There had been kisses, primitive passion, and many goodbyes. He was a warrior of the nation. But there was no other like her. His little Raven. She was different in a very unique way.

He wasn’t granted the privilege to spend lazy mornings with his secret lover, explore her body until he was terribly exhausted and make her scream his name until there was no doubt she was only his. That wasted honorable and admirable Richard’s right. It makes his skin burn with anger, blood rising to the surface. His hand itches towards his sword, closer every second, to cut anyone who was close enough neck and he decided training with Timothy outside for most of the day, would relieve some pressure, to avoid the house and the people within it. Specifically his brother and wife together.

~~~

Later that night after welcoming his brother in law back. Raven slides carefully out from under the white sheets, not glancing at the husband she is leaving in his bed alone. Their bed, she reminder herself. No, she thinks sternly, its his. There is a moment when she paused, almost turns to look at Richard with guilt and regret. Sweet and kindhearted Richard, who smiled cheerfully whenever she walked into a room and kissed her tenderly as if she was made of glass. In that moment, she considers what her life has become, what she has become, and wonders what is going to come next. If only she had married Jason, but her betrothal had been decided before he came back from France, before they had time to suggest a different suitor. Her eyes flutter closed, begging one day God forgives her for her adulterous sins. She leaves in the silence of the moonlight. In minutes, she’s at the massive wooden door of his bedroom. Their bedroom she said in her mind.

“I do not think I was followed.” she admitted nervous even after numerous nocturnal encounters. She finds herself unease somehow, unable to determine why exactly. Her lover seemed different, more serious, as if he had matured while he was away from her. Raven remembers the young boy he was once dressed in red tackling her to the ground playfully, childhood playmates, eyes still full of hope and naivety. The promise of a future they could choose a partner, no worries or concerns for political marriages or brutal and devastating wars. She had a spouse now. His brother.

There is a moment of silence before he sighed “Its not the first. I trust you were careful enough, as always.” He made a gesture inviting her to sit beside him with his open arms. She obliges, her mind imagining the things they would do in that bed, noting how his gaze never leaves her, drinking her up as she is drinking him. They say nothing for minutes. Leaning in, Raven kissed his cheek affectionately and his hand tightened on her hip possesively.

She saw the shudder in his throat as he swallowed. He tilted his head down, towards hers, until their foreheads leaned together and she could feel his nose to the side of hers, his breath on her mouth. That was not new, either, but nevertheless something in her belly fluttered after being weeks apart. “Did you miss me sweetheart?” He rasped, and the crack in his voice stirs her stomach and she clings to his neck like it’s the only thing she can hold onto, before he leaves for a battle or under his father’s command.

Raven gave a solemn nod and set her hands on his broad shoulder. She dutifully closed her eyes, when he kissed her slowly but with ardor at the same time, and she kissed back giving into the pleasure of his mouth, feeling his lips give way just a little under the pressure. Excitement burned through her veins once more, to be in her beloved’s arms once again. She tried to mimic the slow press of his lips, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her heart was pounding. Then his thumb ran down her throat, almost to her collarbone, and Raven gasped against his mouth. “As always, my love.”

“You’re playing with Fire, sister in law.” He muttered smirking at her mischievously. He felt fever mad with endless want for her. His skin must be as warm as hers. Raven burning him up, both of them burning each other up.

“Then burn me with your touch, Jason.” She whispered with heat and desire, pressing a hand to his solid chest. “I never wanted his heart, I wanted yours.” Forgive me Richard for I am falling into sin again with your brother. But I cannot say wholeheartedly I regret it, nonetheless.

@ravenfan1242 @niahti I blame youuuuuu 🙈😂😂😂

Sneak peek 👀👀👀👀 🙈🙈🙈

#jayrae #raex #jason todd #raven roth #red hood #robrae #teen titans #batman universe #dc universe #dc fandom #sneek peak #writing #italy au #dick grayson #batsiblings #nightwing

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kiarcheo · 4 years

Text

Hidden Histories - There Is No Future for Us as a Pair

The one where Katherine Howard and Catherine Parr meet during the early days of Anna’s marriage, they keep making plans and the king keeps messing them up.

Also on Ao3

AN: This was way bigger in my head, but my imagination is leagues ahead of my writing skills and this is all I could do.

Historical accuracy? Never heard of it. Timelines are skewed and tweaked, I mostly made Cathy younger and moved forward some events in her life. Should go without saying that while I used historical events as main guidelines and framework, I ignored some and invented others.

English is not my first language and I didn’t even try to attempt a 16th-century English. Also royal life and Tudor times in general are not my expertise.

TLDR: it’s a fanfiction, bear with me and my inaccuracies.

We all know how Katherine’s story ended so…yeah. There is that too.

———————————-

‘Lady Herbert, your presence is required.’ The two women who had been walking arm in arm in the royal gardens stop.

Lady Catherine Latimer pats her sister’s hand. ‘Go, Anne, don’t worry about me.’

‘Lady Howard, I entrust you with my dear sister.’

Catherine holds off her tongue to remind Anne that she is the oldest and doesn’t need looking after as she would have had if they had been alone. With her husband’s reputation in tatters, the last thing she wants is to undermine her sister’s position at court in any way. Not after she had managed to maintain her position as lady-in-waiting to the new queen Anna von Kleve after having similarly served the three previous queens.

‘Lady Latimer.’ The young girl offers her arm.

‘I do not wish to take you away from your duties.’ Catherine nonetheless takes it as politeness demands. ‘And please, there is no need for such formalities.’

‘My presence is not as necessary as Lady Herbert’s.’ Between Anne’s experience and the queen’s limited knowledge of English as well as of the working of court, Anne had taken on more responsibilities in the Queen’s household. ‘I dare say my absence might not even be noticed.’

‘Her Majesty seems to appreciate your presence.’ Catherine had not been at court for many days, but she has already noticed how the queen seems to favour the young maid of honour. Malevolent chatter is that it is because the queen sees something of herself in the girl, both floundering in roles they are not fit for, Lady Howard’s missteps and the queen’s chuckling reactions attributed not to benevolent demeanour but rather to ignorance that a blunder has been made in the first place.

‘It’s a pleasure and an honour to serve the Queen.’ It is probably the first time that Catherine is tempted to truly believe such words are said in total honesty.

‘The Queen is fortunate to have such a loyal lady at her service.’

‘Your words flatter me, Lady Latimer- Lady Catherine.’ She corrects herself at the pointed look she receives.

‘I’m merely stating what I observe, Lady Howard.’

‘Katherine.’

Catherine barely manages to avoid stumbling, surprised at the familiarity of being addressed by her first name.

‘I mean, my name is Katherine, if we are avoiding formalities.’

Katherine’s presence is indeed not as frequently required as Anne’s is, and while Catherine would object to her sister that she doesn’t need a chaperone, she doesn’t mind as much when it’s Katherine. The two quickly establish a friendship, Catherine finding out why the Queen seems to enjoy the younger girl’s company so much.

‘I see you have made a friend.’ Anne had commented one day as Katherine had warmly bid farewell to Catherine after Anne had informed her that the Queen had called for her.

‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘It is simply…unexpected.’

‘I thought you liked her.’ Anne isn’t one to speak ill of anyone (likely wouldn’t have been able to keep her position in the royal household with four different queens if she had been), but Catherine knows her sister and her tell-tale signs of silent dislike.

‘I do. She is a lovely girl. A bit flighty, but she is still young. Just not…particularly bright.’

The more time Catherine spends with Katherine, the more she disagrees with her sister. Except on the lovely part. While Katherine is younger than both of them, she is not even the youngest among the queen’s household. Anne had started at Queen Catherine of Aragon’s court at thirteen, but the usual age for appointment as maid-of-honour is sixteen.

Her vivacity, which got her reprimanded more than once by older attendants, rarely fails to put a smile on her companions’ faces, whether they are her fellow maids-of-honour or the Queen herself. Catherine has little doubt that it is often done on purpose, as when spending time together Katherine tends to be more on the quiet side.

And the last part of Anne’s assessment. Catherine wonders if perhaps her sister is conflating education and intelligence. Few women (and not many men, if you ask Catherine) are as educated as Anne and Catherine had the privilege to be and Catherine often despairs over how many brilliant minds have been squandered because of it. Katherine has a hunger for knowledge that Catherine is only happy to help satiate, and she is quick on the uptake. While not particularly scholarly her contributions to their conversations are usually thoughtful and intelligent…once she gets over her reservations over sharing her thoughts. Catherine would like to have a chat with whoever had repeatedly told that she is stupid and nothing more than a pretty face. Catherine had even witnessed Katherine trying to learn German while helping the Queen practicing English. Having learnt foreign languages herself she has doubts on the effectiveness of the methods used, but she commends the attempts nonetheless.

While Catherine enjoys their intellectual conversations, the ones that she treasures the most are more private, personal ones. It surprises even herself when the subject turns to the Pilgrimage of Grace and she doesn’t shy away from the topic, despite it bringing up less than pleasant memories (or downright terrifying).

It’s during one of those chats that Katherine confesses that life at court is not what she expected and perhaps not something she would choose again, if given the choice. Catherine offers her a position at Snape Castle, mostly in jest. Katherine however expresses real interest in the proposition.

‘I thought you liked your duties.’

‘Oh, I like serving Her Majesty very much.’ Sometimes what it is not said speak louder than what it is. ‘Do you think your husband would have any objections?’

‘I would need to ask, but I do not think so.’ They don’t exactly have people rushing to work for them after what happened, the family reputation still tarnished even years later. ‘But leaving court for…It would be a demotion.’ She feels the duty to remind her.

Katherine doesn’t seem to mind too much and in her mind Catherine agrees that her friend is not well-suited for life at court. And not because she is not educated or smart enough or anything of that sort. The thought had been cemented the day Catherine had learned of what had happened while Katherine was under her step-grandmother’s care. Katherine had just vaguely hinted at it, but unfortunately Catherine thinks that there is no woman who would not get quickly what she was talking about. Which was dangerous and what worried Catherine the most.

Everyone knew about the uprising in the North and the rebels taking the castle and holding her and her stepchildren hostage, and what she had shared, while deeply personal, could not damage her reputation (not more than it already was due to her husband’s somewhat hazy role in the rebellion, at least). But Katherine’s past, if known, could ruin her. She supposes this is where the naivety of young age came to play. While touched by the trust showed, Catherine had made sure to impress upon Katherine that she was to not talk, mention, or even hint at it with anyone else ever again.

Catherine is aware that she can’t change the past and protect the younger girl from those men, but perhaps she can help now. If she moves in with her at Snape Castle, she would be safe from the nest of vipers that it is the court, always ready to stab you in the back. Maybe she could even find her a nice husband. Perhaps even her stepson John; they are close in age and it would allow Catherine to keep Katherine close.

—–

Catherine watches as the red-haired child dances, carefree, under the loving gaze of the girl playing the lute. Lady Elizabeth had been called at court by her father, the king, to meet his new queen, and Katherine had told Catherine how she had quickly came to care for the young girl, who was also her first cousin once removed.

Katherine halts the music when she notices Elizabeth has stopped dancing and is looking behind her. She turns around, standing up once she sees who their spectator is.

‘Lady Elizabeth, this is Lady Catherine Latimer, a good friend of mine.’

‘Have I been summoned?’ Elizabeth asks sending a disappointed look towards Katherine, after the protocol of introductions and greetings is over.

‘No,’ Catherine sends her a comforting smile. It seems that the affection her friend feels is reciprocal. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye as I’m about to leave.’

‘Is the King sending you away too?’

She is left speechless for a second before recovering. ‘No, I was visiting, but my presence is now required at my husband’s side, he’s unwell.’

‘Where?’

Catherine welcomes the childlike curiosity with a smile. ‘Yorkshire.’

‘I’ve never been there.’

‘You’re always welcome to visit.’ She exchanges a look with Katherine. Hopefully she will be visiting both of them there.

‘Would you like me to leave?’ They look at the seven-year-old as if they had forgotten she was there. Elizabeth doesn’t wait for a reply, she bids farewell to Catherine and turns around. The adults share a guilty glance as the child starts pickling at the lute.

Catherine grabs Katherine’s hands. ‘I will ask him as soon as I arrive. And I’ll write you.’

Katherine impulsively draws her into a hug. ‘I look forward to seeing you again soon.’

The situation, however, quickly spirals out of their control, too fast for their letters to keep up with. In a little more than a month Queen Anna is first asked to leave court, then her marriage is annulled, and the king gets married again.

Catherine finds herself visiting her sister, who is once again lady-in-waiting for a new queen, this time Queen Katherine Howard. And it’s her sister she has to thank if she is currently spending some time alone with her friend, after Anne had led Elizabeth away.

‘She seems happier.’ Catherine comments. The child had greeted her as cheerfully as protocol allowed, asking if she had come to visit her new mother.

‘One of the few good things to come out from this situation. And you visiting, of course.’ Katherine attempts to put back a smile on her face, which had fallen as soon as the company left and the door had closed behind them, leaving them alone. ‘Mary hates me.’

‘Katherine.’ Catherine frowns. She hates to see the younger girl like this.

‘I don’t blame her.’ She shakes her head. ‘She liked Anna. And doesn’t like having a step-mother several years younger than herself.’ She sits down. ‘I just hoped she could be a friend. God knows if I need one.’

‘I’m your friend.’ Catherine sits down next to her and takes her hands in her own.

‘And yet when I think of you as a friend, I feel oddly disappointed.’ Katherine squeezes her hands, before slowly and purposely leaning in. The intentions are clear, there is no need to have been married twice to get it, but she is giving Catherine all the time needed to move away. She doesn’t.

Their lips press together in a chaste kiss.

‘We can’t.’ Catherine leans away abruptly. ‘You are-’

‘Don’t say too young. If I’m old enough to be queen, I’m old enough to…at least for once I wanted to see how it feels to kiss someone because I want to.’ She trails off, defeated. ‘I apologise for making you uncomfortable.’

‘It is not that.’ And it’s not. She is not uncomfortable. Not because of her age, at least. The reason why she, and many others, are uncomfortable with the King marrying Katherine is not necessarily her age, but rather his. After all, Catherine herself had been Katherine’s age when she married the first time….but her husband had been in his twenties, not one year shy of fifty. And also, not the King. ‘You are my queen. This is treason.’

‘Forgive my foolishness.’ Katherine makes to stand up, but Catherine holds her down, not letting go her hands.

‘Perhaps we could revisit our plans in the future.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘In my personal experience, husbands too often leave their younger wives alone too early…and if such a terrible event happened, it would be my duty to offer consolation and support to a dear friend-’

‘How come kissing the Queen is treason,’ Katherine hisses, leaning closer even if they are completely alone in the room, ‘but talking about the King’s death is fine?’

‘It was just a general observation. And taking an interest in the king’s age and health is not a crime.’ Catherine also lowers her voice. ‘Besides we know what happened to your cousin.’

Katherine pales, realisation dawning on her. ‘Forgive me, the last thing I ever wanted was to put you in danger.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself which such thoughts.’

‘You should stay far away from me.’

‘Katherine.’ Catherine cups her cheek to turn her head so she is looking at her. ‘I do not wish to.’

‘Me neither. I had planned to ask you to move to court.’ The younger girl chuckles bitterly.

‘I have plans to join Mary’s household. I am not sure how long John is going to last and-’

‘That is a way to make sure that we will not meet too often. I am sure Mary will do her best to avoid my presence as much as possible.’ Katherine tries to joke.

Indeed, they will not meet again.

It is Mary who brings Catherine the news of Katherine being stripped of her title and imprisoned. Mary considers Catherine a friend and knows of her soft spot for the young queen. Between Catherine and her sister Elizabeth, Mary doesn’t know whom Katherine’s strongest supporter is. And she doesn’t know who is going to take the news harder. Her sister, who loves to call the Queen mother, to their father’s apparent delight, or her friend, who had relentlessly tried to convince her to give a chance to the younger girl. Even as she is clearly trying not to crumble, Catherine takes the time to defend her friend after Mary makes a dig about Katherine’s age. They might have settled into a cordial relationship, but that is still a sore point for Mary. Catherine agrees that indeed Katherine had been quite young…how old would have she been at the time of the first ‘indiscretions’? She can see the realisation on Mary’s face, that either those accusations are false or they are true, and then she had been a victim and not at fault anyway.

Catherine spends two months hoping against reasons that Katherine will be spared, but as the Parliament introduces a bill that would make failure to disclose the sexual history of the queen consort to the king within twenty days of marriage treason and punishable by death, she knows it is only a matter of time. A bill of attainder is soon passed declaring Katherine guilty.

And if it was not enough, Catherine is not even able to mourn (her Katherine in secret, her husband – by now also dead – openly), because Henry chooses her as his next wife.

She can’t say no. Not to the king. Just like Katherine couldn’t. So she gets married once again, on 12 July 1543. The only thing that could have made it worse would have been marrying on the four months’ anniversary of Katherine’s death instead of the day before.

There are two constant thoughts in Catherine’s mind.

One is the promise she makes to herself, and in her heart to Katherine, to do her best to take care of and love Elizabeth and Edward and be a good friend to Mary, just like Katherine would have tried and would have wanted.

The other is that Henry can’t die soon enough.

In the first year of Catherine’s marriage a new act of succession is introduced, which makes Mary and Elizabeth part of the succession once again.

Both Edward and Elizabeth would consider and call Catherine mother.

Ten years after Katherine’s death Queen Mary I will reverse the Act of Attainder against her, albeit on the basis of a technicality and not of her innocence.

#parrward #I might write a short alternate (happy) ending if you'd be interested in that...#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #howard x parr #parr x howard #six fic #six the musical fic #six katherine howard #six cathy parr #mywork #my six posts #six writing #my posts #my ideas #six fanfic #six au #six the musical au

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bi-naesala · 4 years

Text

Dismas and friends

9. Houndmaster

First a bounty hunter, now a copper.

It makes sense since it’s usually good people - and not scum like him - that take care of a town’s problems no matter their nature, but he still doesn’t like it.

He knows he’s protected by the Heir, so he shouldn’t be able to touch him, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely safe.

No, he doesn’t trust this new arrival, but there’s a problem: he has a dog.

Sure, Dismas has already seen her tear through the enemies, but she’s still a dog.

It must be a tactic the cop uses to get people to lower their guard and to get into everyone’s good graces. Cops are corrupt and they corrupt people, so it wouldn’t be weird if that was the case.

Dismas won’t fall for it. He won’t…

He’s approaching the end of his guard shift, but Dismas doesn’t feel tired.

Even if he was, he’d be too tense to sleep. It’s always like this in the cove; if he closes his eyes he can feel the sea calling to him, so similar and yet so different from anything he feels in the other horrible places they venture to. Needless to say, he hates it.

He has no idea how the others manage to fall asleep here. He envies them, to be quite honest, but in the end it’s good that at least one of them is more wary.

Besides, he’s not alone.

He has to give it to the hound: he thought she was going to make a fuss and get them all jumped on, but she stayed in her place, quietly keeping watch as well.

Slowly, as not to alarm the beast, Dismas stretches a hand towards her.

“Come here, girl,” he calls for her, whispering in order not to wake up the others, “Come here.”

The hound, whose name is Fergus, if Dismas has heard correctly, eyes at him with what Dismas assumes is suspicion, but eventually she gets to him. By the way she’s wagging her tail, Dismas can only assume she’s happy to receive some attention.

“You’ve been awake for such a long time,” he says, petting her head with a smile on his face, “You’re such a good girl.”

“She is.”

Dismas pulls away from the hound like he’s been bitten, but that still doesn’t stop the copper Willam from sending him an amused glare.

Damn it, that wasn’t something he wanted anyone to witness.

“You can pet her, I won’t tell you off,” Willam chuckles, and Dismas doesn’t really want to listen to him, but if he says it’s fine…

As he goes back to pet Fergus, he understands why Willam would want to keep her around. It’s soothing.

He still makes sure to keep an eye out for the cop, just in case he tries something, but unfortunately it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“There’s no need to look at me like that. We’re on the same team.”

For now, Dismas thinks, but he’s smart enough to keep it for himself. Things are already hard on their own, there’s no need to make matters worse.

He just shrugs them, focusing his attention on the dog. How can she be so cute in a moment and then deadly the other? Dismas doesn’t know, but he appreciates it.

… There’s something he’s been wondering for a while, since the time when the cop made it clear that he wasn’t interested in bringing him to justice, something that at the time Dismas hadn’t believed.

Getting to know him better to discern whether he was actually telling the truth, however, implicates having a conversation, something Dismas doesn’t want.

Still, it may be the hound’s influence, but he feels almost relaxed and safe enough to do it.

Ah, what the hell, might as well satisfy his curiosity now that he’s still alive.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be hunting down criminals and apprehending them?” Shouldn’t you be hunting me?

That earns him a snort from Willam.

“I’m not a gendarme anymore. I left,” he says, barely doing anything to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“You left?” Now things are getting interesting. Why would anyone leave a privileged life such as the one of a cop? Seems pretty stupid according to Dismas.

Willam nods.

“Yes, I did…” he pauses. “In the end, cops are just another kind of brigands.”

“That’s why you left? Couldn’t bear some corruption?”

Dismas doesn’t know if he believes him; it seems too convenient that he’s so morally pure that he’d do something like this. Nobody is that incorruptible.

“Something like that,” is all Willam says.

It’s obvious that there’s more to the story than what he’s letting on, although if he wanted to share it, he would’ve done so, so Dismas doesn’t ask. Maybe another day, if they survive this hell that is.

He was probably one of those corrupt coppers before realizing the error of his ways and he’s here to repent or something like that.

He still doesn’t completely trust him, because he’s not a fool, but if what he says it’s true, if he really saw the corruption within the law system and decided not to take part in it, then at least Dismas can respect him.

#darkest dungeon #dismas #willam #highwayman #houndmaster #dd hughwayman #dd houndmaster #dismas and friends #my fics #mine

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xingplytwelve · 4 years

Text

𝟛𝟞𝟝𝟚

Author’s Note: I actually don’t recall how this story became like this I was just trying to write something these few days but also my first time writing such genres, is probably weird Pairing: Yixing x Reader, written in yixing’s POV Genre/ AU: Angst, Deity AU Rating/ Warnings: mentions of torture, grieving, death Word Count: 1.8k

I still remember that very fine day when I first met her. It was just me, being a brat as usual, and had came down to the mortal world just for the fun of it. Little would I have known that it’ll have so much impact on my life.

My father had many wives, and naturally, many children. I had eleven brothers, and five sisters, each of us gifted with a power that are meant for us to do good for Heaven, our home, and also for the mortal world which was controlled by my father. I was the third youngest among all of us, though often neglected by my parents, but I knew, both Heaven and mortal would be in chaos if I wasn’t here. I was gifted with the power of healing, nothing ever dies here in Heaven, because of me. Healing brings me joy, and I’m sad that I can’t say the same for the mortal world, for father had told me that every single life over there had a definite lifespan. I was closest with two of my younger brothers borne by the same mother, Baek and Hun, and they were gifted with the power of light and wind respectively. Mother had always told me to take good care of them, as they were the youngest among all of us, which I had tried my best to do so. I remember there was a time when brother Yeol had accidentally hit Hun with streaks of fire while playing, in which he cried in pain and I did whatever I could to help him ease it, but was still reprimanded by mother. At times, I couldn’t help but to wonder what it would be like to live life as a mortal, instead of what I was. Whenever I felt like these, I would quietly sneak down to the mortal world, and simply observed how it was like.

That particular day, mother had yelled at me for not taking care of Baek when he had accidentally fall into the lake taken care of by other deities. ‘Sorry, brother Xing. I wasn’t being careful,’ Baek apologised the minute after mother had walked away. ‘It’s fine, Baek. Just be more careful next time ok? I’m heading out for a bit,’ I answered as I patted his head. I knew clearly it wasn’t his fault, but I just had to leave home for awhile for a breather. This is where I called home, but sometimes, it just didn’t felt like it. There was this village that I especially liked, though rural and small, it was calm, quiet, and very peaceful. It felt more like home to me. I went there, and sat by the gentle stream alone, before deciding to take a bath since I knew that there won’t be anybody around. I undressed myself, folding my clothes neatly and putting them by the side, before diving into the crystal clear water. Looking around, making sure that there was nobody, I spread out my wings, giving them a proper cleanse in a long time. Just as I was about done, I heard noises coming from beneath the trees that was surrounding the stream. It was weak, but I could recognised such sounds anywhere. It was the sound of a dying life. I hid my wings and got dressed quickly, before hiding behind one of the trees to see her running over to the stream, a sickly kitten in her arms. I looked at how she was treating the kitten as though it was her child, trying to save it’s little life. I couldn’t bear to see her grieve, and though I knew that it was against the rules of Heaven, I plucked a feather out from my wings, walked towards them, and placed it over the dying kitten. She looked at me with eyes full of innocence and purity, something that I seldom, or had almost never came across back home. And that was when I realised, this must be it. This must be how love felt like.

The kitten was jumping around the two of us playfully the moment it had it’s life back, while we continued staring into each other’s eyes. Neither of us spoke, but I knew she must have felt it too. Just then, a strong gush of wind blew past us, it was Hun calling for me. I must be wanted back home. ‘I’m Xing,’ I managed, before asking for her name, and disappearing into the woods as I spread my wings and went back to Heaven. ‘Brother Xing! Father is looking for you,’ Hun said quickly and meekly the moment he saw me. I nodded, before I went over to where father was. I knew father had caught me, I had it coming. ‘Father,’ I called softly. Father was sitting in his throne, intimating as always. I had expected him to shout at me the moment I appeared in his sight, but yet, there was nothing of such sorts. It was, eerily quiet. So quiet, that it was starting to creep me out. ‘Xing,’ he started, finally. I looked up, to find no presence of anger in his eyes. He was very much unreadable, but not like I could read him on normal days anyway. ‘I have many children, but I know every single one of you inside out. I know your heart moved, but I can’t let you go. Both Heaven and the entire mortal world needs you. I know it’s unfair, so I’m giving you a chance to fight for it,’ he said, his tone strangely calm. ‘What is it, father?’ I asked, hopefully, as my eyes lit up. ‘You will have to pass ten challenges. If you managed to pass all of them, I’ll let you go. But be prepared, none of these are easy tasks,’ he answered.

The challenges father had for me were spread over ten different days, which I had gladly agreed. I was then held in a confined room, it was so cramped, and so dark, I never knew this part of Heaven existed. Anyone who was in here long enough will eventually lose their minds, this place barely had any signs of hope, any signs of life. Mother had came to visit me, and the way she looked at me was something I’ve never gotten from her before. I could tell from her eyes that it was full of sorrows and heartache. It was as though she knew what father was going to put me through, as she told me to give up the set of challenges before they’ve even started while she patted my head gently. ‘But mother, are you happy here?’ I questioned. I have no intention of giving up before it had barely started, I don’t know if I will be able to get past all, but I know I had to try, at the very least. I had to try and fight for what I want. ‘I’ll say I’m happy, Xing. Just not all the time. All of us are made for greater things, and love, is something that we just don’t have the privilege of,’ she replied solemnly and left, before I can probe her any further.

Just then, I saw brother Yeol. He was strangely silent, and a stern expression hanged on his face. ‘Sorry Xing, father had ordered me to do so,’ he apologised, before doing what he was told to. I yelled in pain before I could even realised that parts of my wings were in flames. The burning sensation was excruciatingly sharp, and so intolerable that I nearly fainted from the pain. He stopped immediately, and checked if I was alright as he wiped the off the excessive perspiration dripping from my face. ‘Why do you want to do this?’ He mumbled, but I was in too much agony to make out any sensible words let alone sentences. And this was only the first challenge.

By the fourth day, I already felt like giving up. I felt like, maybe I just couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe I should have just known my place from the beginning. Maybe I shouldn’t have even met her at all. I was consumed by the negative thoughts of my own, until the fifth day came. There was no pain inflicted on me physically, but what was shown to me had caused me so much more torments than what I’ve felt in the past few days. People were dying, and grieving over their loved ones. There was so much suffering, and all of these, solely because of my selfish actions. If I left Heaven, there would only be more of whatever I was looking at. I just couldn’t let that happen. I love her, I really do, but I realised I love the world much, much more. Mother was right, we were all made for greater things, greater things than love. I was born to heal, to make this a better place, and not to have people suffer and grieve. I had to let it go.

‘I’m sorry, father. I realised how selfish I was in the past five days,’ I admitted, when I was brought back to him. ‘It’s fine, Xing. Some of your brothers had been through the same thing, but I am glad that you’ve realise how crucial your role is,’ he answered, his voice gentle and husky. I’ve seldom seen this side of father, and it made me bold to ask for something more. ‘I only have one wish, father. Can I go and see her? Just once every year?’ I requested. Father sighed, and it made me think that he had experienced something similar before, but I chose not to question about it. ‘You may. But remember Xing, a year here is ten years over there. You’ll see her age, and soon faced with death,’ he replied sternly, sadness overflowing in his tone.

That very year, I saw that she had found someone else, someone who was able to give her a normal, simple, yet blissful life. The following year, I saw that she had two lovely children. And the next, I saw that traces of age were starting to catch up with her, but she was still beautiful. The purity in her eyes was always there, even with the loss of time. And eventually, like what father had warned me about, I was witnessing her on her deathbed. Her husband, the first to send the love of his life away, and her children, now grown-ups, were grieving. I had to resist the urge to disobey the rules of Heaven again, for I know that it was already a privilege that father had granted me to see her, once every three thousand six hundred and fifty two days. I saw her passed, as a tear fell from my eyes. I plucked a feather out from my wings, and yes, they still hurt from the burns sometimes, and placed it on her grave when I visited her another year later. I stood in front of her in silence, the only sounds coming from the steady, slow-moving stream, when I felt something ticklish brushing against my ankles. Intrigued, I looked down to find myself forming a smile unknowingly. It was a cat, that cat.

#exo fanfics #exosnet #exowritersnet #yixing angst #yixing fanfiction #yixing scenario #yixing #zhang yixing #exo angst #layonyixing writes

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shootwinterfest · 4 years

Text

WINTER MYSTERY - NEW STORY from ASLEEPINAWELL for Shoot Secret Santa!

Winter Mystery by @asleepinawell

also here on AO3!

"The snow is really coming down now," Reese said as he shut the door behind him.

Shaw inched slightly closer to the fireplace to escape the cold air that had invaded the room when Reese had opened the door. "At this rate we're going to be stuck here tomorrow."

"At least tomorrow," Root agreed as she swept into the room. She handed a mug down to Shaw before settling in front of the fire herself on the other side of Bear. "The Machine says the snow plows won't be able to get through up here until Tuesday."

Shaw took a cautious sip of her hot cocoa. Yep, definitely spiked, thank god. If she was going to spend the next few days crammed into a cabin in the middle of nowhere with the whole team, then she was going to need some alcohol.

"How're we supposed to help our number if we're stuck here?" Fusco asked from the chair in the corner. He'd tried to sit by the fire earlier, but Shaw had sent him away for hogging all the heat. Root only got fire privileges because she'd resorted to cocoa bribery.

"Well, the good news is that our number is snowed in as well," Root said. "It'll be hard for anyone to get to them with all the roads closed." She reached across Bear to try to steal Shaw's mug, but Shaw saw her coming and pulled it back out of reach with a warning glare.

"Good thing I packed some extra snacks," Shaw mused as she sipped her cocoa. "The freezer here is stocked full of nothing but microwavable mac and cheese. Gross."

"What'd you bring?" Reese asked, a little too innocently.

Shaw's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "None of your business and no, I'm not sharing. You should have thought of it yourself."

"You're not sharing?" Fusco asked, outraged. "We could all starve here, you know?"

"Way too much shitty mac and cheese for that to happen," Shaw assured him. She eyed the others, looking for any suspicious expressions. Maybe she should hide her food stash before she went to bed, just in case.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Root said, patting her on the knee. "There's only one snack I want in this house."

Shaw choked on her cocoa.

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

It wasn't that Shaw hadn't trusted the Machine when she'd assured them (through Root) that the house was well-stocked with food in the event of them getting stuck, it was that she hadn't trusted the Machine's taste in food, a fear which had turned out to be correct. Thus the small pack full of supplies Shaw had brought for herself. None of it was too fancy: coffee, tea, and cocoa packets, trail mix, a couple types of jerky, a chocolate bar, some pop tarts, cookies, marshmallows (for the cocoa), and a bottle of whiskey. Certainly not fancy dining material, but still, it was stuff with more flavor and texture than frozen dinners and tap water.

"You know, if you hide that somewhere I won't be able to make you surprise spiked chocolate again," Root pointed out once they'd retired to the room they were sharing.

Shaw hesitated over the bag. Root had a point. But…. "That sounds like something someone would say if they were planning to steal my food."

Root paused in mid-stroke of brushing her hair to cast a disdainful look at Shaw. "Sweetie, I'm not interested in your pop tarts."

"That's just what you want me to think." She zipped the pack up and looked around the little bedroom. It was the largest bedroom in the place, but it was still tiny and there wasn't anywhere obvious to hide anything.

Root set aside her brush and sat down on top of the heavy wool blanket on the bed. "When you're done being paranoid about your snacks, come to bed and I'll show you what I'm actually interested in."

That was too good an offer to pass up and Shaw ended up shoving her pack under the bed. If someone wanted to steal it they'd have to get in here without waking her up and good fucking luck with that.

She did make one detour before joining Root, though, to twitch one of the curtains aside and look out at the snow falling.

"We're going to be lucky if we can even get the front door open tomorrow." She could barely see the trees through the heavy snowfall.

"Being stuck here for a few days doesn't have to be the worst thing ever," Root said as Shaw shut the curtains. "I can think of plenty of ways to pass the time."

"Be a lot better if we weren't sharing a tiny cabin with the boys," Shaw said. She walked back to the edge is the bed and, when Root tugged on her arm, let herself be pulled down into the warm blankets and a tangle of limbs. "Guess it's their own damn fault if they didn't bring earplugs though," she decided.

"They'll get over it," Root agreed.

They were both thoroughly exhausted by the time they finally fell asleep. Root, always the late sleeper, might have slept until noon if she hadn't been awoken by Shaw's outraged yell. When she rolled over to see what the fuss was, she found Shaw standing next to the bed looking grim.

"My pack is gone."

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

Root was tired, cold, and (because of the first two things) grumpy. She'd had a lovely evening with Shaw in their isolated snow-bound cabin, gotten to go to sleep in a very warm, soft bed, but then been rudely awoken and dragged downstairs to the living room with the boys and accused of petty thievery. The only upside to the whole thing was that Shaw was currently being unbearably adorable in her efforts to unmask the supposed criminal.

"The facts are these," Shaw stated as she paced in front of the fireplace. "Last night I put my own personal pack with my possessions in it under my bed."

"Our bed," Root corrected.

Shaw rolled her eyes. Her hair was still messy from sleeping but pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands escaping everywhere, and her whole face still looked soft from sleep despite her current level of focus. It contrasted nicely with her stern tone and Root couldn't help but smile fondly while she watched her even if it made Shaw look more annoyed.

"Fine, the bed Root and I both slept in."

There was a soft snicker from behind her in the room. John, probably. Neither he nor Fusco had been awake when Shaw had announced the mandatory team meeting.

"Despite the fact I didn't hear anyone come into the room all night, this morning, my pack had mysteriously vanished. Since we're currently snowed in at an isolated cabin, the only viable suspects are the people in this room."

"You seriously think one of us took your food?" Fusco asked. "Seems to me that the most likely suspect was the person already in the room with you then."

Shaw turned her suspicious stare on Root for half a second and then shook her head. "Everyone is a suspect right now. The door was open this morning when I woke up and it was definitely shut when I fell asleep."

"Oh, that part was definitely my fault," Root admitted. "Bear was scratching at the door and I let him in. I left the door cracked in case he wanted to leave."

"He was?" Shaw looked down at where Bear was snoozing near her feet. "I don't remember hearing him."

"Yes, well, you were pretty worn out," Root said, perhaps a bit smugly.

"If the door was already open, then anyone could easily have snuck in," Shaw said. "Or Root could have smuggled the pack out when she let Bear in."

"Or Bear could have stolen it," Root pointed out.

"Bear would never! You take that back!"

John cleared his throat. "It's six am. Can we go back to sleep and sort this out later? You can search the place while we're passed out so you know no one will be eating your stash."

"No one is sleeping until the thief comes forward and returns what they took." Shaw turned her full attention to John. "Where were you last night?"

John was sprawled on the couch wearing pajamas that looked like...a suit. "In my room with headphones on until I fell asleep. I only left it to use the bathroom once."

"And do you have any way to prove that?"

"How would I do that?"

Shaw looked back at Root. "I'd like to call the Machine as a witness."

It was Root's turn to roll her eyes. Shaw was being very cute with this whole righteous detective act, but she was really tired and would rather go back to bed and continue using Shaw as a heat source. "She's been having a hard time maintaining a clear signal with the storm, and also there's no cameras set up here so Her information would be limited."

"Reese and Fusco both have phones."

"True."

"Skynet spies on our phones?" Fusco asked in horror.

"There's a total of twenty three different organizations spying on the average phone at any given time. Trust me, She's not the one you need to worry about. She doesn't care about the websites you visit that you delete from your phone history." Root smirked at the terror on his face. "Private browsers tabs aren't really private, Lionel. How long have you been working with us now?"

John looked thoroughly amused by Fusco's discomfort, so Root added, "And John is no exception, though I'm disappointed in his taste." She didn't have any clue what either of them looked at since the Machine actually believed in privacy for some reason, but she must have hit a nerve because the smile fell off John's face.

"None of this matters," Shaw cut in. She pointed at Fusco. "What did you do last night?"

Fusco was bundled up in a threadbare purple bathrobe in an armchair in the corner. He looked even more tired than Root felt.

"Me? I tried to get my beauty sleep and regretted thinking Reese was kidding about the earplugs thing."

"And you didn't leave your room at all?" Shaw asked.

"No, I...wait, I did. Got up to use the bathroom some time in the night, no clue when. I did see someone else up and about but it was dark and they were at the far end of the hall so it could have been anyone."

"The far end of the hall, as in near the door to my room?" Shaw asked. "Did you see how tall they were?"

Fusco squinted at her. "Yeah, now that I think of it they were really short. Maybe about five foot three. Sound like anyone here?"

"Maybe you stole your own food in your sleep, Shaw," John said, amusement in his voice.

Shaw crossed her arms, her biceps flexing in a threatening way that caused both the boys to stop laughing and Root to have a sudden shift in reasons for wanting to go back to bed.

"This cabin isn't that big and there's nowhere to hide," Shaw said with way more icy intensity than Root thought was strictly necessary for the situation even if it was extremely hot. "It's only a matter of time before I find out who took it." She turned and headed back up the stairs, leaving the others in uneasy silence.

"Shorty really likes her pop tarts, huh?" Fusco asked.

"And how did you know she had pop tarts, Lionel?" Root asked with a smile that was mostly teeth.

"Because I saw when she bought them at the rest stop on the way here," Fusco said, trying to inch his chair away. "Why don't you go talk to her instead of threatening me? You know none of us did it."

"I know nothing of the sort." She stood up and brushed herself off. "I suggest that if either of you are responsible, that you make her pack reappear before she comes back downstairs."

"And how do we know you aren't the one who took it?" John asked.

"You don't."

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

Shaw returned to her room after she finished her second sweep of Reese's room. Root had come upstairs while she was away and was fast asleep in bed again, curled up on her side under all the thick blankets with Bear next to her. The whole scene was kind of endearing despite Shaw's general state of annoyance.

It wasn't like a bunch of junk food even mattered that much; it was the principle of the thing. She doubted Root was the culprit, even if she would have had the easiest access. Though she wouldn't put it past Root to cook up some trouble to keep her entertained while they were stuck. She'd probably consider it some sort of cute gift or something.

There were several feet of snow on the ground outside now and the house was chilly as fuck and Shaw was tempted to crawl into bed next to Root and sleep in the warmth and forget about this whole thing, but.... But she really wanted some goddamn coffee and the almost-acceptable instant coffee she'd packed was worlds better than the shit in the kitchen.

She decided it was time to be practical about the whole thing. The next step any sane and logical human would take at this point would clearly be to draw a detailed diagram of the crime scene and map out all the possibilities.

Root knocked her map on the floor when she rolled over fifteen minutes later. Shaw cursed and reached down to retrieve it. It wasn't her fault that there'd been nowhere else to spread out her research.

"Sameen? What time is it?" Root still looked cranky and her eyes weren't quite open yet.

"It's nine."

"That's still too early," Root grumbled. She rolled over so her head butted up against Shaw's leg and cuddled grumpily against her.

"You tell me who took my food and we can nap all day." That was a lie, but Shaw felt entitled. She was the victim here.

"If I admit to it, can we go back to sleep? It was terrible of me, and you can spank me later."

Tempting for several reasons, but…. "Did you actually?"

"No." The one word was infused with infinite crankiness.

"Then no deal."

Root sighed and then opened her eyes. "Fine, let's get to the bottom of this then."

"That's what I've been saying--" Shaw trailed off at the look on Root's face.

Root flung back the covers and jammed her feet into her bunny slippers with murderous intensity. Shaw watched in fascination as she pulled her oversized fluffy robe (pink, with a hood that had bunny ears to match her slippers) around herself and tied the sash like she was preparing for war. She grabbed her taser from the nightstand and raised an eyebrow at Shaw.

"Well, are you coming or not?"

Shaw trailed after her, half-impressed, half-turned-on, as she hunted down both the boys and corralled them back into the living room.

"Let's start with the obvious suspect first," Root said, her voice full of that cheerful homicidal glee that did things to Shaw. "Lionel."

She rounded on Fusco, tapping her taser against one palm while grinning at him.

"Why am I the obvious suspect?" Fusco protested, looking around nervously.

"You're a police officer," Root said as if the answer was obvious. "Now, where did you put Shaw's pack?"

"I didn't--"

The taser crackled threateningly in Root's hand.

Fusco looked at Shaw desperately. "Hey, can you maybe keep your homicidal girlfriend from killing me?"

Shaw shrugged. "Root does what she wants. You should probably answer her question." She'd stop Root before she could do anything permanent.

"I told you, I didn't take it! Sure, I thought about it. You were so uptight about it who wouldn't have?" The taser buzzed violently again and Fusco leaned so far back in his chair he almost tilted over backwards. "I didn't touch it though! I'm not crazy enough to go into that room. Who knows what I would have walked in on?"

Root paused and tilted her head. "That's actually believable. He is pretty spineless."

"Hey!"

On a different day, Shaw might have defended Fusco from the insult, but he'd just admitted to thinking about stealing her pack to annoy her so he was on his own.

"That leaves you." Root turned on John with a bright smile. He failed to look concerned.

"Why would I take it? I actually like the microwave dinners."

"John, you're going to need a more believable excuse than that."

"No, that actually checks out," Shaw said. "He has the worst taste ever."

"Well, if none of us took it then where is it?" Root asked.

"Hey, why are you suddenly free from suspicion?" Fusco demanded.

Root raised her taser threateningly, but Shaw waved her down, suddenly concerned by something else.

"Where's Bear?"

A quick search of all their rooms turned up no Belgian Malinois.

"Did he get outside?" Shaw wondered. She hoped he was okay out there. His paws might get cold.

"Maybe he's in the basement," Reese suggested.

"There's a basement?" This was news to her.

"Yeah, it's kind of hidden away, but I had to go down there to fight the furnace last night."

"Show me."

The door to the stairs down was hard to spot in a tiny alcove off the kitchen and Shaw had overlooked it last night. The door was also open.

"I think the mystery is about to be solved," Reese said as he led the way down.

The basement was a small, dirty room with a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and in the middle of the floor was Bear, chewing happily on a piece of Shaw's jerky. Her backpack was lying ripped open nearby, contents strewn about the floor. Bear wagged his tail nervously when they approached.

"Looks like someone was a very naughty a doggy," Root said.

"It's not his fault," Shaw protested ad she surveyed the damage. "He must have been hungry. Poor guy."

"So we get tasered, but the dog gets a pass?" Fusco grumbled.

"Let's go back upstairs," Reese said hurriedly before Shaw could react.

Shaw bent to see what was left. Fortunately Bear seemed to have ignored the chocolate and cookies and other things that might be bad for a dog's stomach, though there was drool all over everything.

"You're a smart boy, aren't you?" she said, scratching him behind the ears.

"Maybe we should bring everything out of the dirty basement," Root suggested. She had stayed behind when the other two left. "He can keep eating your food in the kitchen."

"Yeah, okay."

Twenty minutes later, Shaw was back upstairs and in bed with a mug of hot chocolate (the cocoa mix had been declared salvageable). Root was mostly asleep next to her again and Bear was at the foot of the bed snoring. Life was okay again.

Shaw felt content enough that she even allowed Root to snuggle up next to her without complaint.

"Sameen, I have a confession to make."

"Hmm?"

"I may have seen Bear take your pack last night."

"What? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

"I was going to, but your little detective routine was adorable and then I got to threaten the boys and that's always fun."

Shaw was tempted to pour her chocolate on Root, but that would have been a waste.

"Well maybe you get to sleep on the couch the rest of the time we're here."

"Is that really what you want?" Root snuggled closer and brushed her lips across Shaw's neck with just the tiniest hint of teeth.

"Maybe," mumbled Shaw without much conviction.

"I'll make it up to you if you let me sleep for another hour."

"Fine. Better be a really good apology."

"Mmm." Root was already drifting back off, her head on Shaw's shoulder.

Shaw sipped her hot chocolate, listened to the soft sounds of Root breathing, and watched the snow fall outside the window. All things considered, it was a pretty nice day.

#shoot secret santa #root x shaw #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIFTING US WITH THIS WONDERFUL STORY!!!#person of interest #sameen shaw #root

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holylulusworld · 5 years

Text

How to kill your wife – Part 20 – An eye for an eye

Summary: When his father makes a deal with his business partner Dean must agree to an arranged marriage. Hating the thought with every fiber of his body he plans to get rid of you.

Pairing: MobsterDean x Reader, John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Novak, Benny Lafitte, Arthur Ketch, Cole Trenton, Asmodeus, Eldon Styne, OFC Christine (Gabriel’s widow)

Warnings: angst, fluff, comforting, daddy!Dean, pregnant reader, implied characters death, blood, violence, gun shots, funeral, grief, sad reader, torture, knife play (non-sexual)

How to kill your wife Masterlist

You always hated funerals. The first one you had to attend was your great-grandmothers. Memories of your grandmother’s tears, her sobs and the smell of the flowers surrounding the coffin haunted you for years.

Then you had to bury your mom. That was the day you swore you never want to attend a funeral ever again. You avoided attending your father’s burial. Dean asked you more than once to say goodbye, but you just couldn’t bear the thought showing your father respect, not after all he did to you.

Dean is standing next to you. His arm slung tightly around your waist, hand resting onto your belly he watches his father checking his eulogy for Gabriel. You are covering Dean’s hand with your own, giving him strength only by touching him. Gabriel was an old friend.

Everyone is here to say goodbye. Benny and Castiel are flanking John’s side, prepared to strike if anyone dares to disturb Gabe’s funeral.

Tears slip down your face as you look at Gabriel’s wife and children. John made sure they are safe, just like everyone belonging to his family. You can’t believe you hated John some months ago. That you thought he’s the big bad guy in this sick game your grandmother and father were playing.

Your eyes drift toward Sam who is holding Eileen’s hand. Praying he will be able to move on and find happiness with her you give him a shy smile and Sam smiles back.

Dean leans closer to you, kissing your hair softly and you close your eyes at the gentle gesture.

When John finally starts his funeral oration, everyone looks at the former leader of this family.

“Friends, loved ones and family…” John begins. “It is an honor and privilege to pay tribute today to a very special person. Gabriel was remarkable in so many ways. He lived his life to the full and touched so many people during his time here with us. Gabriel was always reliable, till the end he protected his family, including all of us. I’m glad I was able to meet this magnificent man and I’m proud I was allowed to call him my friend.” John needs to compose himself before he looks at Gabriel’s wife and children.

“Go on boss,“ Benny whispers.

“We are here to say goodbye to one of our best, to one of our friends…to a member of our family. Christine and her children are part of this family too so we will make sure they are not alone during these hard times. I promise Gabe’s death will be avenged soon. No one will ever hurt my family again. Today I say it out loud…we will take an eye for an eye. Rest in peace my friend, Gabriel…you’ll be missed.” John ends his speech.

There’s a moment of silence as the priest says some words, prays for Gabriel’s soul and you all bow your heads to remember your friend for a moment. A sound, a clicking catches Dean’s attention as the priest gets a gun out to aim it at John.

Benny is much faster. Using his full weight, he tackles the smaller priest to get hold of his gun. Gunshots echo through the air and Dean spins you around to push you down, covering you once more with his body.

Castiel and Sam grab Gabriel’s widow and children along with Eileen to hide them behind one of the parked cars.

Benny is back on his feet after he broke the ‘priests’ neck. Storming along with Cole toward Dean he helps you getting up to lead you toward the bullet-proof limousine.

“Get them away from here,” John yells as more men storm toward the cemetery. Asmodeus is chuckling loudly as John simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Didn’t think you are one to disturb a funeral.” John chuckles as the doors of the church burst open and Michael along with Ketch and ten men surround Asmodeus and his men. “But ya know I’m always prepared. Better safe than sorry, Asmo. This is the end of the line my friend.”

“Arthur, what a pleasant surprise to see you alive. How is your love life? Do you miss Matty boy?” Asmodeus chuckles and Ketch narrows his eyes. Years ago, he would’ve attacked the enemy without thinking twice but now, he smiles at Asmodeus.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Asmo. I’m glad to tell you we found your beloved lover and I must admit she’s one hell of a woman. Pure aggressive red-head…well, at least she was till I was done with her.” Arthur says coldly. There’s no emotion on his face right now.

“That so? Need to find a better pussy then. Not a great loss. She was old, boring and too clingy either way. Thanks for getting rid of her for me.” Asmodeus chuckles and Ketch starts grinning.

“Did you hear that, Rowena?” Cole asks showing Asmodeus the phone he’s holding. “I bet now she will tell us every dirty detail about your organization.”

----

“Dean, are you okay?” You ask checking your husband. “Did you get shot, hurt…anything?” Your hands are trembling as you touch his cheek softly.

“I’m fine, Baby Girl. You?”

“You were right about the bullet-proof vest and security. I can’t believe these men attack us during a funeral. They have no shame or honor.”

“Hey, we are fine. No one got hurt. I want you, Eileen and Christine to drive back with Cas and Benny.” Dean says softly caressing your jawline with his thumb.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” You whisper as a single tear slips down your cheek.

“Y/N, I know you want to be all in but…” Dean’s voice cracks as he knows what will come next. “Dad wants to see blood. An eye for an eye…literally…Ketch will have his revenge and he won’t go easy on Asmodeus. Arthur will avenge his first love and it will get ugly. I don’t want you to see any of this.”

“Call me Dean. Please call me when it’s over. I can’t sit home and wait, worried to hell and back.” You beg and he gently slides his fingers through your hair.

“I promise I will call you…soon.”

----

A pit in your stomach you look out of the window as the limousine drives away.

“Dean and the others know what they are doing, Y/N. Ketch will do this, not Dean.” Castiel says softly but your hands won’t stop shaking.

Eileen is nervous too, you can see the fear all over her face, so you take her hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“Our men will be back soon, Eileen. Don’t worry.” You say softly and she nods.

“I wasn’t able to tell him, Y/N…” Eileen sniffs. “I’m…pregnant.”

“Oh my god! Eileen! Sammy will be so happy.” You squeal hugging her tightly.

Your eyes drift toward the children sitting in the car and your wonder. “Where is Christine?”

“You see…” Benny coughs. “She asked us to take the kids so she can witness what Ketch will do…”

“She wants to watch?” Gasping you look at Benny.

“I told her to leave it be, to not watch. John guaranteed revenge. He always keeps his word, honey.”

----

“What is this place? Who’s that guy?” Asmodeus gasps fight against the chains holding him. Hanging from the ceiling, toes barely scraping the floor he looks at Eldon lying on an old mattress.

“This is my dungeon, Asmo. Thought you should see what you turned me into. This is Eldon, one of my favorite toys. Say ‘hi’, Eldon. Don’t be impolite.” Arthur chuckles.

“Hi…” Eldon chokes out, throat dry the man tries to warn Asmodeus but he can’t bring another word out.

“Good boy. Let me handle you some water and food.” Ketch says tossing a sandwich and a bottle of water at Eldon. “He’s barely interested in getting cozy with me lately. Always nagging about ‘I’m not into men…I don’t like you touching me…’.”

“You’re sick, Arthur.” Asmodeus grunts. “What happened to the fine, smart and deadly man I formed?”

“Well, Asmo you took away the only person keeping me going. You killed Matt believing it would make me a better killer for you. Sorry, but this is what I became. A torturer, a killer. I do anything to punish people only to feel again.” Arthur snarls as he cuts Asmodeus shirt open. Not caring he cut deep enough to draw blood.

“You will regret this, Arthur!”

“Ready if you are, Asmo. John, Christine you can come in. I got everything prepared for you.” John walks into the room, alone. “I told her to stay outside. It’s enough to hear him scream, Chrissie doesn’t need to see it, tho.” John sighs and Arthur nods.

“Better this way. I will cut him open like no one before. Any special wishes, John?” Ketch is looking at John, waiting for his order. “This is your endgame, Arthur. I want an eye for an eye. You can have the other one. The rest is up to you.” John says knocking his friend onto his shoulder.

The tall patriarch sits down onto a chair. Even while his stomach churns, he needs to witness every little detail…

“We should get some answers out of him first. After that…I’ll have my way with him.” Ketch snickers and Eldon flinches. “Don’t worry, baby boy. Daddy will not touch this bastards ass. I would never put anything into this rotten body.”

“Sick bastard!” Asmodeus spats, spitting into Ketch’s face.

“Is that all you’ve got, Asmo? Did you believe you can provoke me to kill you? I've waited for years for my revenge.”

----

Pacing around the bedroom you look at Eileen sitting on your and Dean’s bed. She’s nervous, just like you. It’s been over an hour and Dean still didn’t call.

Hands shaking and legs wobbling you want to sit down as the door to your room opens. Stepping inside Dean looks at Eileen on your bed.

“Why is Eileen here and not in Sammy’s room? I bet he’s looking for her.” Dean says and you slap his chest. “Never worry me like this again.” You sniff and he gently strokes your cheek.

“John told us to drive home. He’s at Arthurs place to witness everything. Cole and Michael are with him. Thought you need me here to make you feel safe…” Dean whispers as you rest your head against his chest.

“Eileen! I was looking for you. Never scare me like that again.” Sam pants as he ran through the hallway.

“I need to tell you something, Sam. I don’t know if you will be happy or get mad but I’m…pregnant.” Eileen chokes out and Sam rushes toward her to scoop her into his arms.

“If you excuse us now. I need to take care of my fiancée.” Sam sniffs as he walks out of the room with Eileen in his arms.

“She’s pregnant?” Dean asks. “Yeah.”

“Damn, Sammy and I are good. Knocked our girls up at the same time.” Chuckling Dean looks down at you, a cocky grin on his face.

“I was worried, Dean….love you…”

“I love you too, and the little bean.”

----

“You know, John…Mary always loved me more. It was a stupid decision to choose you over me.” Asmodeus pants as Ketch slides his knife over his chest. He already cut half of Matt’s name into his killer's chest as John clears his throat. “Mary was never interested in you. She was frightened, scared to hell and back. Don’t tell me shit about my wife!”

“Your wife? She was mine before you even laid eyes on her. Mary was mine! Her father promised her to me, but Henry had to interfere and make sure his Johnny gets another toy.” Asmodeus spats and John shakes his head.

“My father didn’t do anything. Mary told her father and grandfather about her fear and the way you treated her at your first meeting. Samuel was a hard man, but he was righteous, and he loved his daughter. He willingly agreed to let me marry her. She loved me, not you. Sick piece of shit.” John yells.

Ketch is busy cut the last letter into the man’s chest, but he doesn’t even flinch. Used to the pain he grins at John.

“You know it was a pity. That night I wanted to fuck her, wanted to bring her away but then the fire happened. What a waste of beauty.” Asmodeus snickers and John nods at Ketch.

“I know all you did was to punish me for loving Mary. For taking her away from you, but she was never yours…only mine. You will die knowing she only had one true love, and this was me, John Winchester. I was her first and only man. Ketch…an eye for an eye.” John orders and Ketch gets one of his special tools…

“What’s that for?” Asmo asks and for the first time, John can hear the fear in the man’s voice. “An eye for an eye Asmodeus. Ketch will use this nice tool to…remove your eyes…have fun, Arthur. He’s all yours…”

----

Outside the room, Christine glances at Cole who is gulping hard at the screams coming out of the room now. His blood freeze as the screams stops, but a moment later the same noises leave Asmodeus lips and Cole shudders.

“What is he doing?” Christine asks.

“Boss said an eye for an eye. I think he meant it literally…Chrissie.” Cole says and Christine nods. “Good…her deserves all the pain Arthur can cause.”

----

“Look at you, Asmo. A brand-new style.” Arthur snickers. “OH, right…without eyes, it’s hard to look at anything.”

“He’s unconscious, Arthur…” John says squeezing Ketch’s shoulder. “End it as you want to. He’s all yours now. Maybe we should send a warning to his friends and allies.”

“The same message he sent to us with Gabe?” Ketch asks and John nods.

“Great idea, Ketch. When this is over you will never have to do any of this. I promised you retirement, you’ll get it.”

“I’ll take the position you offered to me. Mick wants to settle down. I think he deserves this. He helped me seducing Michael to help us once again after all.”

“How’d he do this?” John asks.

“Mick said it’s his secret and I didn’t ask.”

John is walking out of the room, glancing at an eyeless Asmodeus once again.

This way to do business has to end now…the good old times are over…

How to kill your wife Tags

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